One week left...

Moving day is upon us... Friday, April 29th, this circus is heading north. And there is so much change in the air around here, it is fast approaching too much for my emotional and hormonal self to handle.


Moving from the house we started our married life together in, started our family, etc... it is a little bit difficult for me. God has shown me over the past couple of months though, with Alan being away so much, that it isn't the house that makes us... it is the four of us together. I tend to get a little too attached to inanimate objects as it is. Even though we are moving into a larger house, with more room, nice things, and all of the personal touches Alan has been working so hard on... I still get a tad teary eyed when I visualize us pulling out of the driveway next Friday. 


Then there's Aaron - somewhere in the span of the last three days he and I decided it was time for him to start going peepee in the potty. He's been doing his "serious business" in the potty for a couple of months now, but the frequency and unimaginable amount of pee that boy is capable of have kept us from being successful thus far. So, here we are, in the middle of packing up the last seven years of life and every time the potty watch goes off, yea, it's time to go peepee in the potty! [A hint of sarcasm, if you didn't catch it]. I knew if we didn't try soon, it would get put off until after the essentials were unpacked in the new house and then there would be the non-essentials, helping with projects, etc. etc... So, now seemed as good a time as any. Plus, he's getting to be an old man, it is high time he takes care of his own business. Which brings me to the emotional part. Oddly enough while I was standing outside the bathroom door (Aaron says, "Mama, please leave" before he is able to go), listening to him pee, I thought... Wow, my little man is growing up - he's standing up, peeing in the potty all by himself. Deep breaths, this is a good thing, less diapers, less potent pee smell in the house, happy little man, etc. etc. This is a good thing. Plus, I've still got one more baby to squeeze and snuggle with - one who can barely walk on his own, let alone pee in a potty.


Which brings me to more change... Adam has finally decided to start getting serious about the sippy cup full of milk. I've been giving him the sippy cup for a while now filled with either milk or water - to get him accustomed to it. He usually plays with it a little, drinks a little, then plays a little more. A few nights ago while nursing him before his bed time, he pulled off, pointed to the supplemental sippy cup full of milk on the nightstand, and made the "more milk" sign. Initial reaction - that's fine, so long as you get plenty of milk that you sleep soundly until morning, I don't care from where you get it. A day or so later I'm thinking, oh my goodness, it's the beginning of the end of my breast feeding career. I knew it was soon because he is such an eater and I was really just waiting for him to become better friends with the sippy cup. So, in (perhaps?) a few weeks you'll probably read something more about me mourning for my mammary glands, and my little baby sucker. 


With Aaron I was not fazed by the end of nursing because my reason for stopping was that I was pregnant with Adam... so there was plenty more to keep me occupied. I've spent just under three years of my life breast feeding our boys. Probably sounds ridiculous - but when neither of them drank from a bottle, ever, it consumed me... and yet it has been a greater blessing - for both them and me - than I ever imagined at the start of this whole thing. But, it will open up our schedule a little more, help Adam transition into a toddler, and gives me my body back (so to speak)... except I may actually have to start paying attention to what I eat considering I've either been pregnant or nursing for the last four years. I think it is great that God enabled us to have them so close together so that we could do back to back baby phases.


So, there's just one more thing from the past twenty-four hours that made me emotional... We have been working through the Bible stories with Aaron at night before he goes to bed and lately we've been ready the ones leading up to the Easter story. It is such an overwhelming concept and most adults can't grasp it, so how one is supposed to explain it to a three-year-old is beyond me... so I'm doing the best I can and using the stories, written for children to help. One of them explained at the end that Jesus died for us because he loves us so much (in so many words)... so last night I had my head in my hands after the boys just completed one of their screaming conversations (once they get going, they feed off of each other and the noise just gets louder and louder and it is difficult to stop them - because Adam doesn't understand just yet).... and Aaron comes running over to me and says "Mama, stop it, put your hands down. Look at me Mama. It's okay... God loves you so much." It was all that I could do to hold it together. It was a little bit of punky, mixed with some drama, sweet innocence. That little turkey had once again come up with the perfect thing to say to remind me of how precious they are (regardless of how loud they can get), what amazing gifts they are to us, and the sacrifice I willingly and (most of the time) joyfully make has absolutely nothing on what Jesus did for us.


In case I don't make it back in time, Happy Easter. God loves you so much.