Legacy of Swarthy Eyebrows

Yeah, so I changed my layout. I did it here on Shabby Blogs (Thanks Virge) and I love it (if you're on FB and want to see my fabulous new blog background, click on the original post thingy at the bottom). It was the least complicated background change I've ever done. Most erase everything you've done (like in the sidebars), but this one was super easy.

I've been thinking about having a daughter this week. And also about ants, which have raided our house this week. But mostly, I've been thinking about having a daughter. I have visions of a dark-haired little girl, with an easy smile and a winning spirit that attracts many friends. And she may be sweet, but she could possibly be bossy (I'm a bit bossy), she could be neurotic (ahem- let's not even go there), she could could be manipulative (not me!), she could be overwrought and emotional and snotty (visions of myself when I was fourteen) and she could have dark, swarthy eyebrows. You may be thinking, "What? You don't have dark, swarthy eyebrows!". Oh, yes I do. I carry tweezers and a mirror with me at all times (just in case I have an eyebrow emergency). I still have visions of being called Kim Dukakis in 1988. Do you remember him? Allow me to remind you.

Michael Dukakis has swarthy eyebrows. Just saying...
Anyway, why does this matter? It doesn't. Except that I'm vain and neurotic and self-righteous and want her to beautiful and winning and sweet (See? That reflects how good of a mother I am). I've never thought about any of those things when I've been pregnant with the boys. My only thought when I've been pregnant with the boys is, "Wow, I wish I would stop throwing up." But now we've introduced a new element in this life and that is how I (ME) could affect my daughter. Will she watch me obsess about food when I feel out of control? Will she see that I'm more conscious of my appearance that I should be? Hmmm... How irrational my expectations are! I am a sinner raising children! My human-ness affects everything I do. Really, the only thing I know that I do right is saying to my children, "Hey guys, Mom's not good enough on my own effort to get to heaven, thank goodness for the sacrifice of Jesus and the grace of a loving God. I'm gonna screw up big-time (and do all the time), but Jesus is perfect."
And we've already raised (practically speaking and with the help of her mother) one little girl and I'm watching her be an adult with exceptional interest. She's beautiful and kind and we're awfully proud of her. She's our girl.

Maybe she could help us out a bit with baby girl #2... What do you say, Rach?

Ups and Downs

I should be unloading the dishwasher. And throwing in another load of laundry. And possibly sweeping the floors. Definitely packing my suitcase. And yet... here I sit. Well, I did clean the lint from the dryer so I'm good, right?

I've been a range of human emotions this week. On Tuesday, Quinn and I went to have a sonogram done of the baby. I've been dreading this appointment, more so than previous pregnancies, not because I've experienced problems, but because there reasonably could be problems. And I'm getting more neurotic as I get older. This actually has been my easiest pregnancy and THAT, my friends, is saying something. Anyhoo, the sonogram technician was fabulous and the appointment went off without a hitch. And I found out I'm having a GIRL! I was surprised and elated. How fun! Oh, the bows and shoes and dresses... You know I'm going to love it. Possibly the best part has been telling everyone I know. It's been good and my smile has just nearly hurt my face. On Tuesday night, I came home from Back to School night at Silas' school and our good friends, the Speeces, were here and had brought a lovely pink, smocked dress for our baby girl and strawberry icecream (pink) with pink tablecloth on the table, pink napkins, and a It's a Girl! balloon hovering over the table. What a lovely surprise!

And then on Wednesday my Pappy died. He was diagnosed in August with pancreatic cancer and then he died Wednesday. It was very fast. I knew it was coming. We all did. And then it happened. And now I'm flying out tomorrow morning, without my husband and children, to go to the funeral with my parents and sister and two of my nieces. And today I've been a basketcase. I burst into tears during carpool duty (which, by the way, if you burst into tears in carpool duty, then you are done with carpool duty for the day), and really just wanted to come home and sit next to my husband on the couch and not think about anything. Which is kind of what I've done, except that I can't stop thinking about the trip and the baby girl and my sweet little family and death and Pappy's amazing imitation of Donald Duck. He always smelled of pipe tobacco when I was a little girl, which I loved.

Sigh...

Somehow, Christ is glorified in this melting pot of emotions. My only consistent hope in this world of constantly changing happiness and sadness is Christ. And the tears will fall (from both happiness and sadness), but He is still my hope.