McDonnell Place

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Freeing Up Brain Space

So I know. The blog-aholic who normally resides here has now seemingly dropped off the face of the earth and the assumption is that this third addition must really be a doozy...

But he's not. Actually, he's the easiest baby I've had (which I'm hesitant to say as we're not safely out of the colic-zone just yet.) But so far there's no sign of it setting in and Jack is one star newborn, getting up twice a night max, going right back down after each time, and sleeping through clatter and crashes and yelling that are more disturbing to our neighbors and any passerbys than they are to him. (Madalyn is the lightest sleeper God made, and so this is quite a treat.)

I guess I haven't written because I don't have a single creative juice flowing. In fact, the only thing flowing around here is milk, and spit up, and you get the idea-

The daily grind, though never dull, is on high demand, and its sucking every thoughtful cell right out of my brain. (Not that there were that many to begin with.) Like just now- as I was writing that last sentence- I had to go dish out two spankings to the toddlers standing on their headboards and chanting war cries in the room next to me. My hand is stinging as I type, and to go from Jekyll to Hyde and back again like this in attempt to write anything worth reading might just be enough to generate some sort of multi-personality disorder.

I mean I've started to compose posts in my head for weeks now, but then later when I sit down to write any of them, they seem very strange things to actually write about, like a Kandinsky picture contrived in the dream world (which they are) only minus the brilliance.

Like I said, it's not that Jack's at all difficult, but rather that after 3 weeks of no more than 3-4 consecutive hours of sleep at a time, well it can make a person a little loony.

For example, we were at the playground- E. and M. and me- and it was HOT. Not an inch of shade in sight. And I discovered that if you happen to be wearing parachute pants and get on a swing, angling your legs at a particular angle towards the sky and going a particular speed, you can get a nice parachute effect going- and in result, a nice breeze up your pants. A beautiful ventiliation system of sorts that can be a real life saver when you think you just might melt right into the dry mulch but feel too guilty about making your kids turn around and go home right away.

And so there I am- experimenting with the perfect angle and thinking very deeply- WAY more deeply than anyone should think on parachute pants- and I actually begin to think these thoughts might make for an interesting read.

RIGHT... I mean you're yawning already, aren't you? That is, if you didn't close your window sentences ago...

Then there was last night, when I was nursing Jack on our bed, watching some re-run in the dark while Shaun talked on the phone in the other room, and I hear a BZZZZZZZZZZZZ- whap! Just like that, right by my right ear.

Now I'm a well-known, self-proclaimed bugapohobic and so I thought maybe I'd dreamt it or imagined it, but still couldn't resist sitting up and turning to look at the pillow I was propped on, just in case. Sure enough, an ugly bug was perched right next to where my head had been on the pillow. And for some reason I took it very personally.

So WHILE NURSING I go and get a tissue and flush it and begin to think on bugs, and how the real reason they freak me out so much is because I have five facial cavities they could crawl into. If I were earless, mouthless, noseless- no big deal. (Oh, and maybe without eye sockets, too.)

I then sit back down and- what do I do next- I begin to think up a post about bugs and orifices- really believing this is eye-opening, insightful thinking on why bugs freak us out- the whole hole thing- and then hours later realize- um- who wants to read THAT??

Other thoughts from the Twilight Zone have centered on my new-found tv friends- (well actually just friends rediscovered since the last breast-feeding marathon;) Regis and Kelly, Ellen Degeneres, Paula Deen, Beth Moore on Wednesday mornings, and even the high-strung, about-to-crack (as Shaun puts it) Sandra Lee on Food Network. I also am intrigued by Emeril. Mostly because he irritates my grandfather and I like to try to figure out why- pinpoint exactly what irritates him. Is it the "BAM"s or the hair plugs...? I'll never know. But I prefer it that way. Makes it more fun.

Still more thoughts- MOST thoughts- have centered on coffee. Is it a miracle juice or sleep aide? Because when I'm not tired it makes me tired- but when I'm comatose-tired it's the best thing since sliced bread and Starbucks doesn't seem so over-rated. Why IS that?

I'm also catching myself forming some unusual habits like making lists of things Shaun and I will do when we're retired empty nesters; things varying from going to Aerosmith concerts, to joining James and Betty Robison to dig some water wells around the world, to entering ballroom dancing competitions... and on and on...

Perhaps this is some sort of two-fold, self-soothing technique to tell myself 'life won't really be so unbearably dull when these precious moments with our babies are far behind us as nothing but memories,' and somehow at the same time I can hear 'one day I will have all the time in the world to do what I WANT TO DO.'

OH DON'T WORRY- I'm stopping the madness here. But there you have it.

There- you- have it. Everything I wasn't going to write about after all, after all...

I figure I should keep up the practice of writing even when I don't feel like it because this month's nothing compared to what's around the corner in August, when Evan starts school for two days a week and turns 4 on the 30th. (I'm not going there yet- I don't have tissues on hand.) Meanwhile, though, I'll be attempting to attend three Bible studies at about the same time because I can't pass any of them up! I'll be in prison with Paul for the BSF study on Romans, and then Break Free with Beth... again... and then who knows what WIC will have me doing when they announce their fall studies.

This brings me to my final recently recurring random thought which is how I've gone from feeling rather isolated and unconnected in one city, to having to narrow-down social activities in another. There was purpose in the wait for friendships like the several God's given me here, but I'm so glad that wait is over. I'm so glad God sent people bearing pot roasts and lasagna and beef strogonoff and chicken tetrazzini and sweet and sour chicken and stuffed peppers to my door after I had the third baby, when Shaun had to head off to DC. (Thank you- all of you.) I'm so glad my children have friends their ages and I have friends like hearted and minded. But if I don't slow down long enough to record something- anything- during the frenzy of fellowship and living, then it might not ever get recorded... and then what memories will I have to draw back on when my kids are grown? When I'm pulling on my leather lace-up fly pants for an Aerosmith concert trying to remember what life used to be like way back when...

Monday, July 24, 2006

What We Were Doing During July of '06

Saturday, July 22, 2006

There's Something About Larry

For those who are not aware, barely one week after the birth of Jack, I got a call from my boss saying that he really needed to me to fly to Washington, D.C. as soon as possible (as in 'go to the airport and get on the next flight') to work on a document to be sent to the Pentagon (that's about all I can say). Oh, and he wanted me to stay for 5 days and 4 nights in order to complete this task.

Considering everyone at Portal Dynamics has treated my very well, I knew that they wouldn't be asking me this if they really didn't need me there. So, I left the next morning much to Katie's bewilderment.

However, even though my company called me out of town during a critical part of my personal life, I have to admit that they handled it well for me. The next day, Katie received a vase of flowers from my boss saying, "Sorry we had to take Shaun away so soon. Thank you for letting us borrow him during this precious time."

And then just yesterday, she received another large vase of flowers from all of the executives at my company thanking her again.

All of that definitely helped smooth things over for my overwhelmed and hard-working bride.

Anyways, while I was in D.C. (Alexandria, Reston, Herdon, and the Pentagon) I decided to leave my handicapped and smoking room (all they had available) to go get some dinner in Old Towne Alexandria.

I found a small hole-in-the-wall pizzeria off of Duke Street and when I walked in, I saw a familiar figure sitting down and eating his pizza - all by himself.

It was Larry David - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Larry_David.

Being that I am a huge fan of HBO's Curb Your Enthusiam and Seinfeld, I went up to him to say hello. He was very kind, stood up to shake my hand and seemed honestly interested in my critique (all positive) of his show on HBO.

After a few minutes of talking, I asked him if I could get a picture of us together using the camera on my phone. At first, he seemed like he would have no problem with it. Then, he stared at me for a second with this bewildered look on his face and then stormed out of the pizzeria leaving his plate and newspaper on the table. He didn't come back.

Needless to say, I couldn't figure out what had happened. He was very cordial, kind, and forthcoming and then he just left without a word.

Now, if you don't know much about Larry David, one thing he is besides an excellent writer, actor, and comedian, is a raging left-wing liberal. I have always known this about him but still like his work.

It wasn't until after I had eaten and was walking back to my rental-car when I realized I was wearing my Rush Limbaugh 'Club Gitmo' T-Shirt that says, "Your Tropical Retreat from the Stress of Jihad."

Larry must've seen my t-shirt and been so horribly offended he stormed out.

I love that shirt.

SM

Friday, July 14, 2006

How to Bind When in a Bind

Yesterday was Shaun's first day back at work. While he was gone we ran out of diapers for Madalyn. I was lamenting this to him on IM when he suggested an alternative to a trip to the store: swim diapers.

"Swim diapers? Everyone knows swim diapers don't do anything but give everyone else in the pool a false sense of security."

"Really?"

"Well they don't hold pee."

"Okay, so then do this... take one of Jack's diapers and put it inside the swim diaper like a liner."

"You know that just might work."

And it did. So all I had to do was replace the newborn diaper throughout the day. BRILLIANT.

Shaun's grandfather invented the thermostat, so it's only natural he would have a knack for innovation. When he first told me about his grandfather I remember saying, "You mean a certain brand or type of thermostat...?"

"No. The thermostat."

And suddenly, as I sit here and recall this conversation, it's all falling into place. The reason my 3 1/2 year old is smarter than me. The reason for all my parenting frustrations. I'm like one of those really skinny girls who marries a hulk and has to have a c-section because the baby's too big for her small frame to get out. Only replace skinny with conventional and hulk with avant-garde and you'll see what I mean. I married up. We disrupted the laws of nature... or evolution, that whole rule about how 2-rated people marry 1's or 3's but never 5's... we disrupted something and now I've given birth to children who have the ability to outwit me. So essentially what I'm suffering are the biological consequences of a terrible mismatch.

Thursday, July 13, 2006

This Magic Moment

Brought to you by Johnson & Johnson...

Yesterday morning Jack's umbilical cord fell off in his diaper. I've been waiting for this moment ever since I started running my fingers through his dark hair, turning him into a little grease monkey- which is what easily happens to newborn hair when you can't keep your fingers out of it- the cord falling off meant he could now have a real bath and a good hair-washin'.

So being the meticulous and thorough mother that I am (ha!) I devoted myself to cleaning the bathtub with a hard scrub of Tilex before bathing him last night. (I don't do baby tubs because it's one more thing to keep clean, so we just bath him on our legs, facing us... the very same reason I don't do training potties- they frighten me- and I choose not potty train until they're big enough to climb on the tall toilet.)

Tub cleaned and sterilized, I started a bath and Shaun undressed Jack and brought him to me. We laid a warm baby wash cloth across his chest and drizzled him with water. He LOVED it. My other kids cried or at least whimpered through their first bath, but not Jack. It's like he was born understanding the concept "getting a little R&R." So relaxed was he, that he sprayed a gleeful fountain of joy two feet into the air; the sweetest fountain to ever grace a bathtub, and a phenomenon that never ceases to get a good laugh out of the doting parents.

So we break out the camera and coo and goo over him in sappy high pitches. He eats it up. He stretches and kicks in the literal lap of luxury. And then comes the next sign of true relaxation- the kind that doesn't so much fountain but surprises underwater like the explosion of squid ink and quickly spreads in rapid contamination.

Third time parents that we are, we both panicked. Okay, well not really. It was really more of a fun and humorous sort of what now frenzy; a can you believe this is really the last time we're going to have this much fun in the newborn realms moment.

Shaun started a shower. Thus, Jack had his first bath and his first shower all in one night... all in the same 10 minutes or so. What an accomplishment. Kudos, wee one. Wee wee-weeing one.

And he loved the shower every bit as much as the bath, bobbing his head back to look up at me and identifying the sound that once sprayed him through the skin of my stomach every morning.

When the tub had drained it was quite a sight. Hard to believe something so tiny can make such a mess. It was like the cake ring the Cat in the Hat left in the bathtub... only more like mustard instead of pink icing. That breast milk is something, I tell you- an entire bottle of condiment could've done less damage.

But when Shaun dressed him in a clean cotton sleeper that smelled of Dreft, when his hair was brushed and he was good and tired from wailing in the cold air, it was all worth it. When I nursed him, I looked down on a peaceful face and soft, shiny hair. Clean hair. And then he slept. The perfect ending...

And then he slept.

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

A Litte Bit of Stir and A Lot of Crazy

We knew it would happen. They're so spoiled about their daily outings; the library, the grocery store, the park, the pool, a friend's house. Shaun and I are enjoying the down-time... if you could call it that. And Jack is just peachy. But the other two- OH the other two... where to begin?

Well, for one, when Madalyn kissed me a few minutes ago she smelled of coffee and aftershave, which says what she busied herself with this morning. That and paint. Blue paint. Blue paint that she and Evan painted the walls, the window sill, the secretary's desk, and the carpet with... oh and a pink kickboard?? Then Evan told on himself. Then they both sat side by side in their naughty chairs- paint head to toe and greatly resembling members of Blue Man Group- while Shaun and I cleaned. Then they got their spankings, then a shower... where Evan had the nerve to request a cup. Of course, your Highness! And his kickboard. Will that be all, your Majesty?

Evan is even asking to go back to the doctor again, like he did for his pink eye, because apparently even that was a step up from this ole' joint. And after all, he did wrap the entire place around his pinky finger with conversation fit for Kids Say the Darndest Things. When the doctor told him he had handsome eyes Evan added, "They're green" like yes they are handsome, but did you take note of the emerald abyss that lies therein? Then to the nurse, who was writing in his charts, he said, "are you writing down numbers about me? HEY! You have crocs!" He held up his shoe, "I have crocs, too!" Which is why he got delightful responses from the staff there, which is why he asked to go back to the doctor's, "the ones with the crocs." We tried to remind how in the depths of his pink eye misery he complained pathetically, "I don't want to be like this!" But to no avail- the doctor's office still trumps home. So today Shaun's taking him down to the parking lot to help him vacuum the car and move carseats around. For entertainment. For fun. This is what it's come to.

Madalyn is getting attention any way she can muster. She's putting the art in con-artist. Like last night, when she developed some pain in her hands. "They huuurt. Hands hurt, hands huuurt." She became limp-armed and pathetically ate her lasagna (thanks, Dana!) from Shaun's fork. She didn't even finish her garlic bread but weakly requested a shower. She got a shower. Then a movie.

During the movie Shaun moved her arms all around and not a sound, but as soon as it was over again, the acting resumed. We put her to bed while she continued to complain of pain, and even though we'd tested her, she was still so convincing I was actually considering the all-hours clinic. Evan was already asleep at that point, but soon her whimpers were echoing from their monitor, so I went in to check on her. She seemed to think that if I would just coat her with enough butterfly kisses and Eskimo kisses and fishy kisses, the world would all be right again, her hands healed. Come morning she'd forgotten all about her ailment and so in my eyes had put on a truly Oscar-worthy performance. But I don't care. The cuddling with her was worth it. The moment when she looked at the streams of light that floated over her curtain rod and grabbed at the ceiling with shimmering fingers and exclaimed, "Oh my goodness, it's so pretty!" was worth it.

It's funny because I know most do go kind of crazy under confinement. But I'm not all that much of a social butterfly anyway. My tendency has always leaned more towards being a hermit. I like entertaining myself, having time to think and read and just "be." So I rather enjoy this time of lockdown, even if the kids don't. Shaun seems to be enjoying it, too. The memories made this week, and the slower pace Jack's brought with him is appreciated, and even treasured. It's like this little package of everything that really matters in life arrived at our door; it breathes peacefully, it sleeps peacefully, it's fragile and even sacred... so much so that it inspires everything around it to slow down and take on the same sort of reverence for life and family. For a parent, it inspires the opportunity to start fresh, the time to remember where things started with the others and what really matters.

Or as I described it to Shaun the other day in less grandiose terms; "It's like I look at him and I see a clean slate. Like we haven't had a chance to mess him up yet."

And all of the sudden I find myself watching FOOD network and HGTV and I'm never felt so domestic in my life... and not because I'm scared of messing up or because I have a warped 1950's view of what it means to be a mother and wife, but because I want to serve my family. They are my greatest treasure.

And I start rethinking parenting philosophies and praying for them more often. I start noticing things like how selfish parenting resorts in either over-reacting to situations because they inconvenience you, or under-reacting to situations because it would inconvenience you... how being a really good parent means being a really mature person. I've heard it said that sometimes people have kids because it makes them feel young, but I like how it makes me feel old. How it calls me to something higher than serving myself and reminds me of what a sacrificial life is all about even the third time around, because what they say is true; the third time really is a charm.

Monday, July 10, 2006

Slideshow: Jack's Birth

Sunday, July 09, 2006

Welcome Home

Jack,

It's hard to believe you've been with us for nearly a week already. You still seem so fresh and new; the excitement of your arrival more than tarries- it thrives. Let me tell you about your birth day...

One week ago today, Sunday, July 2nd, your dad and brother and sister and I got up and made our way to church, followed by naps, and then finished the day at the Old Fashioned Independence Day Celebration at church where your brother went down the 10ft inflatable slide into a pool 500 bazillion times with kids twice his height. Your daddy took Madalyn to the inflatable jumping room where she repeatedly beckoned, "watch, daddy, watch!" and chanted "jumpin' monkeys," a song she and your brother often sing when they jump on our couch. (That's a no-no, for future reference- jumping on the couch.) While daddy watched Madalyn and I watched Evan, the contractions first began to set in... you were on your way!

I didn't mention it, though... Madalyn's early labor had been proglonged and I expected the same from yours. Didn't want to cry wolf. But I went from walking your brother up the slide line and making him stay in place, to letting him have a free for all. He quickly learned how to bypass the entire line, flitter up the ladder past the others, and scoot down the ledge past the four up front to have another immediate turn at it. I figured by the time you're doing it, I won't bother to get on to you at every turn, so why nag him? The other kids could fuss at him and he could fend for himself... a feat he was surprisingly successful at, by way of playing deaf. Some kids complained to him, but others encouraged him because he was so much smaller than the rest. And really, what kind of 8 year old gets bent out of shape over a three year old going ahead of her? Still, there were those. But I'm getting off track... the point is that this was when I first knew it wouldn't be too much longer... couldn't be too much longer...

So we headed home and put your siblings to sleep. We baked the usual late night cookies and sat at our computers like the usual nerds that we are, when I could tell the contractions were coming on more regular and labor was definitely impending. So we called in the troops and told them that even if you didn't come that night, it would probably be good that they headed down from Ocala.

They arrived, and the night passed with little sleep and much snoring on your father's part. Morning came, and still the contractions were 7-10 minutes apart with no sign of intensifying. Your dad and I went for a walk- four times around the apartment complex- and I got contractions on the same two hills every loop. Come noon or so we just couldn't wait any longer. We would go to the hospital and state our cause for them keeping us there. We weren't sleeping, we had help on hand, and daddy was missing work... it was high time.

The receptionist and nurses laughed at us when we said I was in labor. "You don't look like someone in labor," they'd say. "She's just tough," your daddy would insist. But like I was saying, the truth is that they weren't yet intense. I guess that's just the way this body works.

So they stuck us in a check out room and took a look. 5 cm dilated and they spotted your hair- dark she said- which supposedly meant my water had broken. A few hours later, in an official labor room and permitted to stay, much to our relief, the midwife made a visit and announced I was 7 cm and my bag of water was still very much there. It ended up all being perfect timing, though, because without Pitocin or any other aid, the labor picked up speed and around dinner we were ready to push. (I say we because your daddy always seems to push harder than me.)

You were harder to push than your sister had been... easier than your brother. You came out "OP"- (translation: face-up)- which explained the difficulty, and had a cone head to boot. They put you from my womb to my chest and you buried your head in my gown and cried out soft sounds of newness. Your cry seemed softer than I remember Evan or Madalyn's being. You still (so far) don't cry as much as they did. It takes you a lot longer to work up a good wail. You'll even- GASP - sleep on your back at times.

But when they placed you there on my chest, how do I describe what washed over? Joy, pure joy... magic... heart-shattering, earth-quaking bliss? And how do I describe you? Beautiful, utterly beautiful... exquisite, whole. A masterful creation we feel humbled to have entrusted into our care.

You weighed in at 7 lbs, 4 oz., and measured 21 inches, making you the longest of the three McDonnell newborns. What fun it would be to have you all the same size for just a moment (HA- definitely just for a moment,) to compare your features, your similarities and differences. Sometimes you look like Evan and some features say Madalyn... but mostly you have your own look. A "Jack" look.

The pediatrician who saw you in the hospital said you looked like a boy. "The kind to come up to you with frogs and lizards in his pockets," he said. I heard our nurse tell you, while she was changing your clothes, that you won the prettiest baby award, then she corrected herself- the handsomest baby award. When my friend Leslie was visiting (I have a witness) a random staff person stuck her head in the room and said she was told she just had to come get a look at baby Jack. Then this same thing happened again when another staff member entered the room. At the mandatory class- the one where they tell us things like not to put a baby on their stomach (this will result in SIDS) and not to let them sleep at night but wake them to feed them (or they will starve) and how to not get pregnant again (birth control)- and while we sat through this patronizing session, twice people identified you as baby Jack. First the instructor, "Ohhh, this must be baby Jack," and then the nurse she was learning under, "yes, that one had a circumcision- that's baby Jack, right?" The other affirmed that it was him, and then turned to tell us, "Baby Jack's famous here... nobody can get enough of baby Jack." (This almost started a fist fight among other attending mothers... one who even voiced that she wanted to know why they all knew who Jack was, what was the big deal while your daddy and I tried to distract her with quick compliments over her little Anthony, although inwardly I couldn't help but wonder if the child was named after a Sopranos character because the parents were somewhat mobsteresque.)

But you see, it's not just me; at two days old God gave you favor with all of the hospital staff, and whether you continue to find favor among men or not, may you always find favor with God.

After your delivery and your first feeding, daddy brought Evan and Madalyn to meet you. Orlando was celebrating the 4th early with a firework show at Crane's Roost- precisely situated between our house and the hospital- making precisely the worst traffic situation possible. So after much anticipation, and long past their bedtime, they arrived at the hospital to meet you- you who they've been waiting to meet for nine long months, (and at least they got a wonderful view of the fireworks out the hospital window as a bonus.)

Evan was more tender, more sedated by your splendor than I ever could've imagined, or have ever seen him. You were everything he'd waited for and more it seemed. He just stared and smiled and kissed and kissed and stroked and talked. He asked you what you dreamed about and told you he was sorry your water broke. On his second visit he began to sing Jesus Loves Me to you when we laid you back in the bassinet, like we sing with him at bedtime. He sang the whole song, heart-filled and clear, and then he began to pray, unprompted; "Thank You for baby Jack. Dear Jesus, thank You for baby Jack." Amen, sweet Evan, Amen!

Madalyn was sweeter towards you than I expected. She kissed your head and nuzzled you, and talked in a sweet, nurturing voice to you. Mostly, though, she was leery of all the hospital equipment she associates with her catheter exams and exhausted as it was so long past her bedtime hour. She and Evan each went into other patient's rooms at this point and that, and Evan even climbed into bed with a woman and her baby, thinking he was approaching his baby.

The first night at the hospital was constantly interrupted, as is routine, for vital sign checks, form fill-outs, and other things of the sort, but you slept. The second night you slept, too. On my chest. Your father kept the whole maternity ward awake the night before with his snoring and I insisted he stay home the next night, which meant I had no help in getting you down, which meant you slept on me... which I loved.

Exactly 48 hours after your birth, on Wednesday evening, you had your PKU and we were allowed to return home to your two anxious siblings, a home-cooked dinner from Honey, and a beautiful welcome sign and cake made by all. Your brother and sister were SO EXCITED to see you and hold you. They couldn't believe you were here to stay. I still can't.

Since that day you've slept in the co-sleeper next to our bed, and on my chest, and in your crib for naps. Your daddy has slept on the couch. Still snoring. Now considering surgery as he reads it's genetic and hits at a certain age.

You definitely know who I am. When you hear my voice you calm- you're more tuned in to me than the others were, I think... hard to remember exactly how it was. But if you're upset just the sound of my voice settles you, which is amazing considering the tone you've heard my voice take- and the volume- for over nine months now. When you're awake, you're very alert. You take everything in as if you're processing each sound that you've heard in the womb for so long. The dryer door slams or disposal turns on and your expression says I know that sound. You may even sleep best when your siblings are rowdy because that's what you've known.

Since that day we came home, Evan's developed pink eye and has to refrain from touching or holding you for 3-5 days. Since that day, Madalyn wants someone to hold her whenever you're being held. Since that day, she's discovered a wasp nest under the window eave outside our bedroom window where she marvels over the wasp family that resides there; "Ohhhh, look! Waps! What color are they? Are they BROWN? Watch, watch!" The sentences she's formed over the Wasp Family has drawn much attention from us and, though last summer I cursed the Wasps, this summer I can't help but think God lured them there just for Madalyn's pleasure and the attention that pleasure draws from us. And although she wants to be held and is a bit jealous of you taking over her place as the baby of the family, she does love you. During a big thunderstorm the other day she coaxed you continually saying, "It's okay, Jack. It's okay." Since that day we brought you home she's inquired about you frequently and when she wants to hold you she holds out her hands, side by side, palms up, as though you were about to drop some M&Ms in her hand, as though you were that little.

But Jack, since that day, the thing I most know is that my life's never been so rich.

Mommy

Tuesday, July 04, 2006

Jack Walker McDonnell

Jack Walker McDonnell was born into the McDonnell Family on July 3rd, 2006 at 6:43pm. He weighs 7 pounds 4 ounces and is 21 inches long.

He's healthy and perfect just like his wonderful and beautiful mother.

SM

Saturday, July 01, 2006

Happy Birthday, Madalyn!

Madalyn,

Two years ago this afternoon you eased into this world with a round face, alert eyes, and a precious cowlick on the right side of your forehead. You slept five hours a night almost from the start and, with the exception of when you were put into your carseat, made a very quick transition into life outside the womb.

One year ago you were this perfect a baby.

And now at just 2 years of age it is already clear to see that you are more wonderful, more exquisite a person, than I could have ever imagined or dreamed into my life. This past year with you has been golden; watching your personality develop; a good dose of spunky, and a great heap of tender. You're both the house clown and the house nurse; filling our home with laughter, hugs, and kisses. You're an outstanding sister and have enriched your brother's life as much as ours. My heart overflows with gratitude that the Lord has already made you the closest of friends. It's absolutely ridiculous for me to pretend I could put into words the joy you've brought into my life...

Today is your brother's due date and I hope, for both of your sake's, that he doesn't show on time. The fact that I'm even vocalizing such an idea shows how much I love you because there isn't much I wouldn't do to get him out RIGHT NOW. But for you, I'll wait.

The arrival of your birthday also means it will soon be time to get more testing done on your kidneys. Praises to our great God for giving you a whole year without an infection. I pray that the test results show He has healed you in full and- regardless- what a relief to know He is holding every fragile inch of you in the palm of His hands.

We love you, Madalyn. Four simple words but my chest aches and contracts just to write them. If I enjoy your personality this much now, I can only imagine the blessings God has in store for me. I'm so humbled to know you; a wonderful little reflection of God's joy, humor, and tenderness, all bottled-up in a precious 29 lbs of softness.

Love,

Mommy

The Subconscious of a Genius

Shaun had a dream that Bill Gates called him up with the news that he would be doing away with Windows and introducing a whole new system. The new software was to be called- are you ready for this- drum roll, please...

Doors.