Of course I wanted to bawl my eyeballs out

Tonight Troy prayed his first little prayer.

His FIRST PRAYER. Lisps and all.

Absolute sweetness epitomized.

He's loved praying with us for months, readily folding his hands, closing his eyes and saying, "Eh-MEN!" at the end. At dinner, he's often asked me to pray after John does... then John again... then me again... and so on, with gigantic smiles, as long as we'll let him.

And, come on, how do you tell a toddler that we can't pray anymore?

But tonight, when we came to the praying part of our nightly bedtime routine, he folded his hands, closed his eyes and said, "D'Jee-SUSH!"

Which, roughly translated, means "Jesus" around here.

So I asked him if he wanted to pray. He nodded his head.

We've tried this before, and though he often talks about Jesus and has just started singing "Jesus Loves Me" on his own, he's never wanted or understood the concept of HIM actually praying.

But, tonight...

Mama: "Okay, you can pray. Can you say, 'Dear Jesus...'"

Troy: "Deeeee D'Jee-sush."

M: "I love you, Jesus."

T: "Luh loo, D'Jee-sush."

M: "Please keep..."

T: "Plee teep..."

M: "Daddy safe..."

T: "DadDY sae-fuh..."

M: "In Iraq."

T: "Ih Rack."

M: "Please keep..."

T: "Plee teep..."

M: "Mama and Troy and Merritt..."

T: "MomMY, Too, Mer-Mer..."

M: "...safe tonight."

T: "sae-fuh nigh."

M: "Thank you, Jesus."

T: "Tank tank, D'Jee-sush."

M: "In Jesus' name..."

T: "D'Jee-sush naaaaaame..."

M: "Amen."

T: "Eh-MEN!!"

Then he giggled loud and long.

And I kissed him and cried.

We've prayed since the very first moment we knew we were expecting him that the Lord would draw Troy's little heart to Him from his childhood.

But oh, THE TEARS. Tears of joy to see it begin and tears of being completely and utterly overwhelmed at the responsibility we have to lead him to Jesus.

Praise the Lord that it's Him working through us, because if it was up to me alone, I'd just sit and cry every time that little guy says Jesus' name. Which, you know, might give a toddler the wrong impression about Him. I think I might have to work on that one.

But my baby praying? I hope I never get over that.

What we do on Rainy Days

The rain started on Sunday and only let up for a couple hours here and there... until this morning. We've been trying to keep busy--the days sure go by faster that way!--but it gets a leetle hard when there are cats and dogs falling out of the sky.

Er, uh, not literally, of course, which we all know, but Troy didn't when I mentioned the cliche the other day. He looked up and asked, "Daw-g? Kit-ee?"

He now pays very close attention to every. little. thing. any of us says. And then he repeats it.

Which means, we've officially entered the spelling years.

As in, "I'm going to put the boys down for an N-A-P," and, "Do you want some I-C-E-C-R-E-A-M?" or, "I think he wants a B-I-G-C-R-A-C-K-E-R."

And that last one is further evidence that we've also entered the adults-talking-like-the-toddler years. Because in this house, a "big cracker" is, apparently, the new name for graham crackers. Of course, if you really want to say it correctly, you must say, "Beeg Cackuh." Proper pronunciation and all that.

Now what was I talking about? The rainy days--that's right.

So it's true we've been cooped up a little, but we still manage to find things to do...

Like, spend fifteen minutes playing with the rain dripping off the roof during a downpour.

Then we come inside, change out of the now-wet clothes, and make colorful pictures to send to Daddy. We never, ever tire of coloring pictures for him.

This provides at least one solid half-hour of intense concentration. Stickers are very, very difficult to maneuver with chubby, dimpled hands.

Meanwhile, the littlest member of the family is very busy. He does the job Daddy gave him before he left extremely well. Namely, the job of just looking cute.

Oh, and hanging around.

Literally.

After lunch and naps...

(Praise the Lord for inventing nap time! He knew mommies would need it)

...we take advantage of a lull in the fall of said animals from the sky, and go for a short walk.

And we all know what rain means...

...puddle-jumping.

The littlest one is also taking seriously the job Mommy gave him. Namely, to carry in his stroller the pictures we are going to put in the mailbox for Daddy.

Then we go home, ready to tackle the longest and loneliest part of the day--the evening.

But first we spend some silly time taking funky-looking pictures for Daddy. He says that if he doesn't see people for a long time, he forgets what they look like, which is an occurrence we'd rather avoid when it comes to the three of us.

Even to the point of taking said pictures with, AHEM, no make-up on. We don't want him to forget what some of us look like when we've been so busy playing in the rain, coloring pictures, napping, puddle jumping and mail delivering that we haven't even had time to take a shower yet.

Troy and Merritt want to make sure everyone knows they don't always look like this, of course.

They want you to know they are usually much more put together. Just to be clear on that one.

Ahem.

And, yes, one of these was taken on a different day. A slightly more "put together" day. You are not seeing things.

But most importantly, Daddy can see that we are still smiling, even though we miss him terribly.
We'll make it through, rainy days and all. Because God is sufficient and is often proving His faithfulness through the amazing people He's put in our lives... but that's a WHOLE 'nother post, peeps.

Hello my name is Ashleigh and my favorite scent is my husband's deodorant

I thought I must be a looney toon, but I guess I'm not--as much, at least.

Last night at church my friend M, whose husband left in August for the Sandy Spot, was telling me the wonderful news that no matter how long he's gone, the I-miss-you-a-million-oodles feeling never gets any better.

I was thrilled.

Or, you know, not.

Not that I wanted to stop missing him at all, but I'd kinda hoped the ache would... I dunno... be soothed a little. But, M says, nope.

So anyway.

We stood by the nursery, holding our babies, talking about life with husbands on the other side of the globe. And the fact that we are both doing the same crazy things as the wives back at home.

Not changing his pillow case--CHECK.
Using his bodywash in the shower--CHECK.
Putting off going to bed because it's too hard to fall asleep alone--CHECK.
Sleeping sprawled out, diagonal across the bed--CHECK.
Hugging his clothes in the closet--CHECK.

But the best one of all?

Standing in the bathroom, eyes welling up, with his deodorant stick stuck to our noses.

We decided it must be that we spend a lot of time with their arms around us... which would put our heads... right in their armpits.

Oh, the romance!

Interested in hearing another observation I've made this week? I'll tell you anyway.

Junk food is no fun when eaten alone.

Since Troy went to my parents' for a couple days, I'm just here with twelve-week-old Mr. Easy-Going, and we're not sure either of us likes so much quiet. But to pass the time, I'm hanging out, watching TV, crocheting and blog-hopping to my heart's content while he sleeps, plays on his activity mat and nurses now and then.

But I've been thinking I really should eat some good junk food. Because isn't that what you're supposed to do on these kind of weekends?

Get some fast food. Eat bowl-fulls of Extreme Moose Tracks ice cream. Drink a 2-Liter of diet Coke. Go through a bag of Chex Mix--both the regular as well as the chocolate peanut butter variety. Finish the big bag of peanut M&M's.

But it's definitely not much fun to pile on the pounds all by my wee little lonesome.

Not that I'm not going ahead with a little indulging anyway--though definitely not in nearly the same quantities I would if I had someone to chow down with me--it's just not nearly as much fun.

I'm thinking perhaps that's a very good thing. It'll probably be the saving of my resolution to lose BLANK number of pounds while John is gone.

Goodbye, fun junk food eating.

Hello, armpit-scent-reminiscing.

Heartbreak

We found out this morning that our precious unborn niece, Adyson Celeste, who was diagnosed six weeks ago with Turner's Syndrome, went to be with Jesus at some point during the past few days.

My heart is just breaking for my sweet sister and brother-in-law.

Thank you to those of you who were praying for little Ady. She was a part of our family for 23 weeks and oh, how the Lord used her in that short time. Trust, surrender, knowing the All Things are in His hands. I can truly say that because of Ady, I'm closer to Jesus than I was before. I think our whole family can say that...

Tomorrow morning Sarah will be induced. Please pray for this first-time mama and daddy, as well as the rest of her family. We're all feeling hit a little hard right now... we can't even get in touch with John today to let him know.

But especially pray for Sarah... I cannot even begin to imagine what she is and is about to be going through.

We love you, Sarah and Josh.

Hanging In There

This morning I sat sipping a mocha in Starbucks for almost three hours, reading my Bible and writing John a long letter, and repeatedly told myself that one week ago he was still home. But the thought remained in the world of surreal... it has to have been longer than that...

But no, it was only a week ago tomorrow my beloved headed off on a bus toward the Sandy Spot on the other side of the globe.

The hardest moment, by far, was seeing his camouflage-clad arm waving in the midst of a sea of hands as the buses drove away... around the corner... and were gone. The best part--getting his phone call to tell me he was safely at his base a few days later.

God's grace is an absolutely amazing thing. It is never-ending, the supply can never be exhausted and He always gives more in accordance with our need.

For weeks--more like months--I'd been dreading that day last week. I'd been trying to imagine spending our last day together, kissing him goodbye, hearing Troy tell him bye-bye, watching him walk away and onto the bus. Many were the nights I fell asleep with tears on my pillow.

But in all my imagining, I didn't see the grace my Jesus would supply when the time actually came. I didn't know that He would wrap His loving arms around me when my beloved's arms had to let go. I didn't see the peace He'd give. I couldn't feel His gentleness as He dried my tears. I didn't realize the enormous amount of support He'd pour on us through dear family and precious friends.

Now I kinda wish I hadn't spent so many hours trying to imagine a feeling I couldn't possibly feel, having never been through it before. The imagining was truly worse than the reality has been--but only because of Jesus and His comfort.

I'm missing my husband terribly, even though he's been gone much longer than a week before. Knowing it will be over a year makes it harder somehow. Both boys are having a hard time with the transition. Merritt, little as he is, has been extremely fussy and not wanting to nurse, and Troy has been having nightmares, crying for Daddy.

We expected it to be hard--but once again, God's grace astounds me. Our transition into life-with-Daddy-gone-land has been nice and slow. Except for a few hours on Monday, I've had some member of my family here since John left. I usually talk to John's mom at least once or twice a day. Troy is now spending a couple fun-filled days with my parents and I have a few days to re-group a little, think through how to get started with "normal" life next week, and finish the blanket I'm crocheting for John--he says it is very cold over there.

So we're hangin' in there. It's a rainy night here and I'm curled up under 2/3 of that partially-crocheted afghan with my lap top and a handful of peanut M&M's. Merritt is crashed for the night. I'm re-reading the oodles upon oodles of sweet comments and emails you all sent me--your love and prayers on our behalf is completely overwhelming. I can't tell you what it has meant to me to have my inbox fill with your words of kindness. You bloggie peeps are the greatest and I'll be responding to each of your emails one by one.

(Speaking of emails--to the friends and family who would like John's email and mailing addresses, email me and I'll get that to you right away. He'd love to hear from you and is pretty good about writing back. :) )

All I have to say is that if the Lord has given us this much strength and comfort in the first week... I can't wait to see what He'll have done a year from now. He is good. So very good.

And so... He's Gone

See you in thirteen months, my Beloved...

Encouragement

While our little family savors these last few days, here are a couple posts that I've enjoyed reading this weekend--the kind I print off and put in my little "To Ponder" folder to read during naptimes later in the week...

One day, as I was walking and pondering, it was as if the Lord said to me, “Sally, if I took everything away from you that you hold dear, would you still believe in me?” It was suddenly as though God was shining a spotlight onto the deepest part of my soul, and I found at the very bottom of it, that with all the difficulties that a fallen world could throw at me, I would still rather hold on to my faith in God and believe in His love and goodness for the rest of my life, than to choose a life of existentialism and despair. But a realization came to me that this choice would require constant vigilance–that I would have to guard my heart and feed it with the truth of God’s word and His constance in my life...

--from this post by Sally Clarkson

So life goes on, with bumps in the road that vary from pebbles to rocks to impassible boulders. I will get my share, and you will get yours, because somehow in His wisdom that's what He has decided, and it's not going to be any different until heaven. There the streets are paved with gold, no bumps allowed. It changes things, when I think about it. Maybe it is fair, after all. I live a life of less than a hundred years, occasionally dealing with hardship on varying levels, and then I transition to an eternity where there is no hardship, no tears, no hives. No, that's definitely not fair. It's way better than fair. I guess I don't want my "fair" share after all.

--from this post by Sarah at In The Midst of It

And so I think I have it pretty easy

I thought I was doing good today as I walked out of the commissary.

It was my first trip to the grocery store with both boys, by myself. I know, pathetic, considering that Merritt is two months old. But, the reality is that John's had an unbelievable amount of time off the past two months (but, hey, I'm certainly not complaining) and I just haven't had to go on my own yet.

But today I did. And I'd have to say we did pretty well, what with two under two and all. Despite the fact that our infant carrier seems to be the only one in the world that doesn't sit nicely and securely in the seat area of the cart and must instead sit IN the cart (why did I forget my sling? I have no clue), Troy reached for every food item he saw and screamed its name with glee at the TOP OF HIS LUNGS about fifty times after we passed each one that caught his eye, Merritt woke up half way through the trip and decided to add to the chorus--but not with just the happy and excited holler of his older brother, and I received several looks of... whatever it is... judgement? disgust? disdain? horror?... from the young, childless Marine wives, and a multitude of sweet looks and compassionate and understanding comments from the older ones who undoubtedly have children, Troy messed up my transaction at the cashier's counter by pushing buttons on the debit machine, and I completely forgot what the "loaner car" (from the shop where our truck was having maintenance done) looked like upon my exit from the store--although Troy soon fixed that, in that he was now screaming "DRIVE! RED! DRIVE! MCQUEEN!! DRIVE!!", a la the Cars movie, which reminded me that we'd been driving a small red car... all in all, I thought it a pretty great trip for the first time out as a regular ol' mom of two. I was feeling mighty fine about my mommy-ness right then.

Then I found the RED! DRIVE! MCQUEEN! we'd arrived in, and noticed the big SUV beside it. In one corner of the back window was a common sight around here--a sticker that read, "Half my heart is in Iraq."

But in the other corner--a big black rectangle that said, "Got Triplets?" in nice white letters.

I laughed.

Yeah.

Triplets.

HAHAHAHA!

I think a little less of my hold-it-together abilities now and think a WHOLE lot of the mama who was in that grocery store right then with not just two children of two differing ages and harried-moment-making-abilities, but three. Of the same exact age. Maybe even Troy's age. Trying to "help" put things in the cart, squealing at every exciting thing along the way, wanting to eat the crackers in the aisle displays, and pressing buttons on the debit machine. Or maybe Merritt's age. Three infant seats? Yikerdoodles. But even if they were older and all in school somewhere--they used to be little.

Marine Corps Mama of Triplets, I applaud you.

And need a nap just thinking about you.

What Goes Around Come Around--oh, wait, that's not it...

I think what I mean is that There’s Nothing New Under The Sun.

Shortly before Christmas, John and I went to Walmart. This can be a scary thing on a Christmastime evening--what with all the masses displaying the "true Christmas spirit", ahem--but we were waiting to get the oil changed in our truck before our trip (and also to get the truck in the system at their Auto Center there before John leaves… because I don’t think I’ll be able to keep up on changing it myself like he does while he’s gone. Just a hunch I have…)

We ended up waiting for over two hours, and consequently being able to finish quite a bit of Christmas shopping in good ol’ Wally World.

We were perusing the toy aisles, looking for gifts for our three nieces and the baby niece on the way when we noticed something odd. Something very odd indeed.

These were John’s thoughts on the matter: “I think the toy makers are tired and have run out of ideas. So they’ve tweaked the old ones and brought them back.”

We saw Cabbage Patch dolls, Polly Pocket, Littlest Pet Shop, Strawberry Shortcake, Pound Puppies, Baby Alive and Glow Worms—and that was just in the little girls’ aisles. A large display in the middle of the toy area showed Hungry Hippos, Mouse Trap, Hi-Ho Cherry-O, “Classic” Operation and several others under a big sign shouting, “Hot NEW Games!”

We were cracking up.

Perhaps these are all considered NEW because they spent about ten years off the shelves, but, honestly… are the parents who buy this stuff letting the kids think they’re all new, never-before-seen toys? It’s hilarious.

Because who among us (okay, most of us, at least—or perhaps your children) hasn’t spent hours setting up Mouse Trap, and to this day has no idea how it’s actually played? Or treasured the name and birthday on a Cabbage Patch doll’s birth certificate? Or lost all the pieces to a Polly Pocket set (who, by the way, is much bigger now than she used to be. I think the toy people realized that the little girls were losing those ½ inch Polly’s and her accessories)? Or jumped a foot to the sound of the buzzer while carefully pulling out “bones” in Operation?

My point exactly.

But here, HERE is what gets me most.

What on earth has happened to Barbies of today? Because, oh my goodness, their FACES! What happened to the real Barbie face? It’s gone, apparently.

I loved my Barbies when I was little… until I was about nine or so. That’s when I decided, on my own, that they were “bad toys" and promptly sold my entire collection (which was substantial) in a garage sale to a guy with two daughters. I’m not entirely sure, looking back, whether the driving force in this was truly the worthiness of my Barbies (and, the accompanying fact that several of my friends weren’t allowed to play with them and I didn’t want to look like a bad person... which is a WHOLE ‘nother issue, peeps) or the money I knew I’d gain by selling that big box.. But, either way, I sold ‘em. Which has no relevance at all to this story, except for maybe to prove that it’s been a while since I’ve had much exposure to Barbies.

But looking at these dolls in their clear plastic boxes the other night gave me a shock. These dolly girls (who have apparently had a body makeover, supposedly to look more like “real” people than they used to… which could certainly still be debatable) look like cartoon characters, what with the abnormally large heads and gigantic eyes and wide smiles. And they all look different—I mean, they actually have individual features of their own. I’m sure that to the rest of the world, that’s a good thing, because little girls shouldn’t all be growing up expecting to look like Barbie… but I never said I liked change. I didn’t see one face I could smile at in recognition of an old friend. Although I did see several 12-inch dolly girls who, if they were my old friends, I’d have loved to sit down with and have a heart-to-heart on the issue of, you know, modesty. But that’s not what we’re talking about here.

The fact of the matter is that, with the exception of Barbies, who have never been off the shelves and have only undergone several makeovers, it seems the eighties and early nineties have returned in the toy department. And I find it quite comical.

Because what better marketing ploy is there? The kids think they are being given a whole new set of fun toys, while their parents get all nostalgic upon seeing their old toys come back to life, and consequently spend oodles of money buying said playthings for their eager little people.

I know I was tempted. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of you have been too. As it was, we walked out with a couple toys for our nieces that bore the names of some of those aforementioned toys.

What we absolutely will not bring up here is the return of the eighties and early nineties in the clothing department. The issue is being handled well by a few other bloggie peeps and there just isn’t sufficient room in this post for opening THAT can of worms…

Tonight

Tonight we ate warm chili and sweet cornbread and laughed at Troy's faces when he tasted the tomato-y goodness.

Tonight I hand-washed dishes because the dishwasher needed to be run.

Tonight John talked with his brother and his mom, trying to solve computer problems.

Tonight Troy spun in circles for five minutes while Patch the Pirate crooned in the background.

Tonight we made a small dent in the on-going process of taking down the Christmas decorations.

Tonight Merritt coo-ed and smiled at his daddy, getting excited then looking away bashfully.

Tonight we both got quite wet when Troy splashed water out of the tub during the boys' bath.

Tonight Troy wanted a few more bedtime stories, and tried to put off bedtime prayers, knowing that his crib was the next thing on the agenda. But a moment later he sweetly folded his hands, closed his eyes and said "A-MEN!" when Daddy finished praying.

Tonight Merritt is laying in his bassinet, about to fall asleep, I'm sitting here keeping an eye on him and listening to Troy's lullaby cd playing through the baby monitor, and John is finishing cleaning up the million-and-one needles left by the noble fir that just left our house.

Tonight...

...is ordinary.

We have very few nights filled with The Ordinary left before The Ordinary takes a thirteen-month-long "vacation" from our home. I know you will all be understanding if posts are a bit sporadic around here for a bit while we savor each ordinary moment with all four of us still here. (And to those who know me personally, if my brain is rather... gone... out the door... somewhere in space... these days.)

And anyway, regardless of the soon-upcoming Big Event around here, it's an accomplishment just to get a shower each day with two little people who, you know, are just SO demanding.... I mean, come on... they actually want their diapers changed and food in their tummies.

Outrageous, peeps.

So, blogging tends to take a back seat. With all the adjustments going to be made here in the next couple weeks, you may see a whole bunch of posts for a couple days, then none at all for a while when making those meals and changing those diapies takes all the time I've got.

See ya when I see ya...