Lit-tle girls, lit-tle girls, everywhere I turn I can see them...

As we have been settling into our new home in Hampton Roads, Virginia (we found a great rental in Yorktown), we had a very shocking but pleasant surprise. Another addition is on the way! John was in shock for nearly as long as I was, but came to when the "macho" factor kicked in. Due to PCOS (polycystic ovary syndrome), I was told for years that having children would require some significant medical intervention. Thanks to God's grace, that was not the case with Emily! And thanks to God's humor, it's not the case with this one, who we temporarily named "Skippy" (if male) and "Missy" (if female). While not discrediting God's hand in all this, John does seem pretty pleased with his fertility track record. This is certainly a family trait on his side in particular: at his grandmother's funeral mass earlier this month, all of her 11 surviving children as well as a huge chunk of her 35 grandchildren and 51.5 great-grandchildren were present. That's just his dad's side...

I'd just had laser vision correction this winter and had unfortunately not been healing quite as well or as completely as we'd all expected, so realizing I was pregnant as I was scheduling the enhancement to fix my eyes was not the most pleasant of surprises. Given that I can't have the surgery for several months after being pregnant or breastfeeding, that nixes the next few years. YIKES! But I quickly made peace with less-than-fabulous vision if it's the sacrifice necessary for another blessing. Heaven knows the first one turned out pretty wonderfully.

Emily is beside herself with joy and excitement, asking the most hilarious questions: does de baby yike pizza rolls? is it dark in there with the baby? I haf to get a bwanket to keep de baby warm, Mama! John frequently laughs that this poor kid will have two mommies.

And great news--it's another GIRL!!! We had a thorough ultrasound last week and are really delighted that we'll be having another daughter. People kept asking me what I wanted, and I could truly say that I was thrilled with either one. I would dearly love to have a son, yet I also have loved every moment of having a daughter. Talk about a win-win. John very diplomatically (and I believe honestly) answers: "Happy healthy mom; happy healthy baby". (The guy is still recovering from the rather terrifying experience we all had during Emily's birth, but I keep reassuring him that there's no danger of a repeat for many reasons.)

Amusingly (shockingly), a week and a half ago I gave into John's lobbying to adopt a cat from PetSmart. I can't believe I gave in to this, as I now have 2 and sometimes 4 children, and now 3 furry critters as well. Smudge, as we've named the fuzzy black/gray cat, is a truly hilarious cat and also a male... now that we know which flavor o' kid this one will be, I suspect John was just trying to boost the testosterone level in his life, given that he is now afloat in an ocean of estrogen. Poor guy. But I don't worry too much as I watch the way he and Emily each have the other wrapped around one another's fingers. Everything they say about daddies and their daughters is true.

This one is due in November, literally a few days before Emily's due date. If she is anything like her big sister, we may well wind up with all four of us having October birthdays! John is certainly hoping for that, as dates are not his strongest suit. Having all the birthdays in October would at least narrow the field for the poor guy. We'll see what happens!

You give me fever...

Scarlet fever? Are you serious?

Well, thank God that during last month's Kawasaki Disease scare I had a chance to read about scarlet fever. My association had previously been that Laura Ingalls' sister, Mary, went blind after contracting scarlet fever. (Interestingly, this happened in between books 4 and 5 and was just matter-of-factly mentioned at the beginning of By the Shores of Silver Lake. "Yeah, Mary's blind now." Wierd.)

Turns out scarlet fever is essentially strep throat that involves a rash due to the toxins of the bacteria. It's still effectively treated by amoxicillin, the ubiquitous pink stuff in the fridge that we all used when WE were kids, and thankfully it will also treat the otitis media that she developed as a complication. Poor kid never gets ear infections and that one came as a total surprise to me.

I am frustrated that once again I couldn't get her into the military clinic we're assigned to. I always had this problem at Hickam AFB, given that there were two pediatricians for the gazillion kids running around that place (we military families procreate like bunnies). There are certain things for which a child does indeed need to be seen that day, and scarlet fever is one of them. There were no appointments available, none coming open, and I didn't hear from the nurse consult who might have been able to open one up. I was advised that we could go to a civilian emergency department to be seen. Huh?

I'm pretty old-school about stuff like this. The ER is for emergencies--you know, something involving not breathing or severed limbs. I loathe tying up those types of resources for something that is not a bona fide emergency, knowing the same care is costing several times more than it would at a regular clinic. Add to that the fact that you sit in a germ-ridden environment with a very sick child for multiple hours and it's a lose-lose proposition. But if that is the only way I have to get care for my daughter, then it's something about which I have no choice. I just can't stand contributing to the health care crisis.

Honestly, though, I've had enough of illness. Since we first arrived back on the mainland in late October:

1) Emily got sick in Nashville (upper respiratory gunk). Conveniently, we were staying with her Uncle Jim, who is a pediatrician. Life is good sometimes.

2) Then she started vomiting while driving from Nashville to Atlanta. But we stayed with Gramma, who is a nurse. Life is good again. Much, much vomiting the morning we were supposed to leave for Langley again. Yikes.

3) Around Thanksgiving, she started getting sick with something that morphed every time we thought we had a handle on it. Cough, then respiratory, then strep-looking throat, HIGH fever barely controlled, mouth sores, vomiting, swollen gums, and so forth. Unbelievable. At the third visit to the ped office (at which we'd asked to see a different doctor), a very concerned doc called for an ambulance to bring us down to Portsmouth Naval Hospital to test for Kawasaki Disease. Bless him, he spent about an hour and a half on the phone with Infectious Disease in San Antonio (suspected measles) and the pediatric cardiologist in Portsmouth. No definitive diagnosis, but she eventually recovered after a long few weeks.

4) Then John got pneumonia.

5) And I got bronchitis.

6) And Papa wound up getting quite sick while here for Christmas. Oddly, my mother was the healthiest one in the house.

7) Then I started throwing up last week.

8) And now scarlet fever (strep), and a tertiary ear infection. And Emily was so pleasant that we had no sign that anything was really wrong until she started vomiting during the Steelers game.

I'm honestly about to boil everyone and everything in the house. It's disturbing to have this all going on, although with the move to a different geographic location and Emily's sudden exposure to lots of new people at church and the YMCA, I realize it's not completely unreasonable. But it is tiresome and enough to make an exhausted mama a little paranoid.

Despite my occasional frustrations with military health care, however, I am grateful beyond words that we have access to doctors and medication. There are so many mothers out there who don't have the options I do, and I praise God for providing a career for my husband that allows for this and thank my husband for working so hard to provide for his family.

Off to snuggle my feverish little pumpkin.

On the road again....

I just can't wait to get on the road again....

Well, yeah, I probably could. Gearing up for Move #4 (Location #5) in five years can compel me to run out of the house and leap into Pearl Harbor if I let myself think about it too much. But I'm trying to focus on the positive.

One of the best things is running into this blog during my search for a home: "It's Lovely, I'll Take It!" (http://lovelylisting.blogspot.com/). It's poorly chosen photos from actual real estate listings that had me laughing so hard I almost wet myself. Seriously. I dare you to get through a month's worth of archives without laughing out loud many, many times.

John is on a short TDY, and of course that's when the fun things happen. Last year it was the house getting fleas. No, just the house, NOT the pets. I had no idea that was even possible. This year it's Emily discovering art and spreading it all over the world. Ballpoint ink all over the loveseat in the lanai and herself, marker all over the kitchen counter. While the ballpoint ink made my life miserable for the better part of the day (hair spray really DOES work pretty well, though), I could absolutely make out with whomever at Crayola came up with washable markers. Whatever they paid you, my friend, it isn't enough. But the markers are now in an indefinite time-out since Miss Emily is disregarding my edict to color ONLY on "special paper". At least it's good to see that we've instilled the value of taking pride in one's work. *sigh*

She's also taken to watching The Little Mermaid, which is a big switch (and a special treat since Daddy is away and therefore the world just ain't right). Forks are being sacrificed at an alarming rate as she reenacts the scene in which Ariel mistakenly uses a fork as a comb for her hair, but at Emily's young age, she doesn't quite catch on to the faux pas. Life imitating art. Oh, joy.

Speaking of hair, my baby got her first haircut Monday. *sniff* Yes, she finally, at the age of 2.5+, had enough hair to need a haircut. I was pretty bittersweet about it, but her curly cotton fluff had to be trimmed in the back to ease the tangling that was driving both of us crazy. We went to a franchise called Pigtails & Crewcuts, which is a fantastic, kid-friendly hair-cutting place. Emily got to sit in a red airplane as well as grab a lollipop at the end of the adventure. (Yeah, she wasn't quite sure about the whole thing, but she did very well. Much, much better than at the dentist last week. MUUUUCCCHHH...)

I should probably rescue the cat, who is currently being earnestly and lovingly covered with a red blanket for "seepytime". Now she's being patted. Now kissed. Now admonished to "put yoo head down. Seepytime." Okay, kitty's good.

Well, in hopes of a good night's sleep as well as a nostalgic look back at a slightly younger Emily, I share part of her bedtime routine, taped by John last spring.

So long, farewell...

Emily is currently obsessed with "The Sound of Music". I infinitely prefer this to the recent obsession with all things Disney princess, specifically Snow White (d*** you, Michael Eisner!!! Those ubiquitous little princesses!!!), who aren't my idea of a prime female role model for my daughter. Belle would be the exception, though. Rather than simpering around for some perfect man to come make her life fabulous, she's a regular girl who rises to a great challenge, sees beyond the superficial, and shows some courage. But it was Snow White Emily latched on to. I learned to live with her. She spends a lot of time singing about this guy she's only met briefly but will live with forever, but at least the girl knows her way around a broom. I'll admit to pretty significant amusement over my little pumpkin sticking her head into any type of hole--shower, trash can, dryer--and singing:

"I wissing... I wissing...
forrrr, wunnn, yooove...
to fine meee... to fine meee...
to-day.... to-day..."

I'd made it through Emily's first two years without her being aware of the Disney princess phenomenon. However, last Christmas, shortly after she turned 2, her Uncle Jim and Aunt Teresa sent her a Disney princess seek-and-find book. Within a few months, she was utterly obsessed with all things princess, which is easy enough to do given that these bloody girls are EV-ER-Y-WHERE. Really. Home Depot, electronics stores, and goodness knows Wal-mart. Emily would go bonkers when I was sifting through Sunday coupons because she saw a tiny little princess figure on one of those checks by mail flyers. *sigh* And every trip to every store brought more of the neverending magic that is all things Princess. Ugh. Emily's soaring joy at the spotting of a princess led to Daddy--the softie--getting her a "pincess piyyow", "pincess hairband", "pincess steeker book", etc., which I didn't protest because she didn't ask for them but did light up like a Christmas tree when her daddy showed them to her. I told John, however, to warn his brother that one of their kids would be getting a drum set from us sometime this year.

But much to my relief, she has transitioned back into "The Sound of Music" in the last few weeks, which is fine because her mother can lip sync the entire movie. After tucking her into bed, we hear her upstairs singing "Doe, dee-ah, lala dee-ah... Rayyy, dwop gunnen suuuunnnn!!" Memories of years in community theater are coming back to me and I'm imagining the two of us in a local production of musicals someday.

Seems today that her favorite song is the "So Long, Farewell" song. You know, the one with the cuckoos. Our babysitter, Becca, told us that Emily was upstairs singing many cuckoos after she was supposed to go to bed. Today as I got her room ready for her nap, I heard her slowly making her way up the stairs by scooching on her bottom like Gretl, singing:

"Suuuunnn... goooonnne... bed, so muss I-I..."

I hid behind the doorway and laughed silently until the tears rolled down my face. Then she was quiet and I peeked to find her lying on the top of the landing the way Gretl does. Oh, the toddler drama.

Speaking of farewells, major event last night. Becca, Emily's beloved babysitter, came over so John and I could attend a retirement dinner over at the Pacific Aviation Museum on Pearl Harbor. (Very, very cool.) Emily was so excited about Becca's arrival that when John and I walked out the door to bye-bye waves and the signs for "I Love You", we looked at each other and laughed. John remarked, "She doesn't give a flip that we're leaving!". I noted that we must be two of the only parents on the planet who were delighted at that development. For so much of her life, Emily was very much a koala baby who really didn't handle being left well at all, so this is a thrilling and freeing step for us. I only wish Becca weren't PCSing next week--this cheery, warm young woman is going to be sorely missed.

In Memory of Maria Sue Chapman

I don't have the words to articulate how my heart aches for the family of Steven Curtis Chapman, a beloved Christian music artist, over the loss of their youngest daughter, Maria. I've signed every blog or post I could find, prayed in rambling words for their comfort, and wondered what in the world I could do. I'm not generally very impressed by "celebrity", but the thing is... he's not. He's a genuinely devoted man of God, husband, and daddy whose music has been a major part of so many believers' lives for years, and somehow the loss of this precious child seems so personal to tens of thousands of people across the world.

This tragedy just knocked us all breathless, and it comes on the heels of the death of a little boy hundreds of us online moms knew during his four-year struggle against leukemia. Samuel Backus was beloved by countless people who never met his family, and the brutal final weeks before his death--which eclipsed the horror of the previous four years--has left us grieving in a profound way. (Please visit www.samuelbackus.com for a gut-wrenching journal of courage and love in action.)

The work the Chapmans have done for international adoption over the years has made an eternal impact for God's glory, and in my overdeveloped sense of justice, I don't understand how this could happen. I trust, I TRUST, that God will turn this unimaginable loss to His glory and somehow bring beauty from ashes.

Chapman family, you don't know me, but I'm one of so many who feels like she knows you. Your marriage, your parenting, your living for Christ have been part of my life for so long that it feels like extended family. Three of your songs were even used in our wedding, including the precious song you wrote for the children born in your heart, (When Love Takes You In). We deeply grieve your loss, desperately wish we could do anything to ease it, and surround you in prayer and love.

I'm just so very sorry. I'm so glad you know without question that you will be together with your baby girl again. May God bring that day soon.

Mortified to be a Pennsylvanian

I'm usually quite loyal to my home state. Green, rolling hills; gorgeous rivers; fairy-tale snowfalls and lush summers; good people... there's so much to love.

But I'm horrified at Hillary Clinton's win in our primary today. It's killing me. I even changed my party affiliation from independent to Democrat just so I could vote in the primary... against her!

Anyone who knows me will know that I'm pretty riled up to even say this out loud. As a social studies teacher, I was very careful to keep my political views to myself and not inappropriately influence my students. They knew I despised Bill Clinton, but other than that, I kept it private. Even if I had had a strong inclination to a political party, I intentionally remained registered as non-affiliated because I felt it appropriate given my subject area. Then I married a military officer and felt the same choice would be prudent. This primary was sufficient reason, however, to reneg on that policy.

Now, in my state's defense, the Pennsylvania primary was not a fair contest for these two candidates. Clinton tends to be backed by hard-core Democrats, while Obama appeals to middle-of-the-roads, independents, and liberal Republicans... who generally aren't registered Democrats, in which case they are not eligible to vote in the primary. This gave Clinton a HUGE advantage in the primary. I notice I'm not seeing much discussion on that fact at present.

Well, I did my best. And I'll have to wait until John comes home from a TDY to Japan to rant about this. At the moment I have my hands full with a toddler suffering from a bad case of tonsillitis--high fevers, copious amounts of gunk flowing from various orifices, and a "tummy huut".

Speaking of which, a note to self: Don't wear a white shirt when dealing with a very sick toddler. Between the nose running like a seive, buckets of tears at the trauma of the pediatrician's office, and a child whose primary source of comfort is snuggling into her mother, it was not a pretty sight. Wet t-shirt contest, Mommy-style. Oh, my life is ever so glamorous...

Okay, so I've been MIA

It's amazing how time goes quickly when you're really not doing anything exciting at all. I could kick myself for missing some interesting opportunities to reflect, but when you're chasing a toddler, those opportunities are few and far between. And over quickly.

Emily has now turned two, and somehow she got the memo. Look, I'm familiar enough with toddler behavior to realize that she's REALLY on the mild side compared to just about every child out there... but it's hard to see my generally sweet-tempered, compliant little one throw a fit about something. It's really quite shocking! Where did my baby go? It's hard to keep it in perspective, but other moms usually look at me like I've been smoking something when I talk about her being crabby.

Much as I hate the quick passing of time with my daughter, I really do love this age. I miss the "baby" season and already ache for more little ones (but as long as she's not sleeping, that's not practical), but it's such an adventure to hear her forming words and learning what's going on in that curly little head of hers. She tenderly covers a doll--or the cat--with a blanket, "sings" along with me or any other music going on, and is enchanted by the light-up angel just outside her bedroom window. She incessantly repeats "stars, angel; stars, angel" to explain that there are stars in the angel. Hey, who am I to explain astronomy to a toddler?

I'm so grateful for the privilege of caring for one of God's children. How awesome is it that He gave His Son in such a way that we could all understand? Now that I've held and loved a precious child of my own, it's brought home this powerful gift and God's incomparable love in a way that I feel in my gut. What a merry Christmas.

Reflections on 9/11

It's hard to believe it's been six years. Since then, I've gotten married, moved three times, and had a baby, so it feels like a world away. In many ways, it was. Living in the DC area at the time and being a middle school teacher was an experience nearly impossible to describe, but I think it's time I tried.

We were in our second week of school, and as a second-year teacher, I was helping the kids settle into a rhythm. That Tuesday morning was a glorious one--the kind of robins-egg blue sky and warm sun that makes me love early autumn. My fourth-period class was about to enter when I saw an email in my mailbox from a Canadian friend of mine with a subject line saying something about "Amy, a plane has crashed into the WTC". I didn't have time to look at it with the transition of classes, but as my gifted class began to enter, some of them were already asking me what was happening.

She loves me, she loves me not

Our formerly public-loving baby, who'd never met a stranger, has entered a shy phase. It coincided, of course, with her daddy's departure out of the country and has become a great source of angst for the Japanese women all over the island who take great delight in hugging her, exclaiming over and stroking her sandy blond curls, cooing a word I can't spell which apparently means something like 'cute' or 'sweet'. Rather than leaning toward them with arms outstretched like she used to do, she now covers her face with both hands and peeks through her fingers with a coy little smile. It's cute and fairly flirtatious on its own, but heartbreaking to the child-loving Asian women here who beg to pick her up.

Thing is, this shyness has also extended to talking with grandparents on the phone and looking at their pictures. She's excited about it, but has to cover her face for some reason. This is understandable, but...

She's now even doing it when we're talking to John on the phone. Uh-oh. I'm somewhat concerned that, after missing him for a month, she's going to be kind of shy with him when he arrives home tomorrow. I know that he'll be very understanding of this, knowing that it's temporary and developmentally normal, but he's gone through enough in one lifetime. At least it was only one month. What would happen if it had been longer?

Being a military family is kind of like living with a ticking bomb. You know a deployment is coming at some point, and the longer you go without it, the more the reality looms. John semi-volunteered for one while I was pregnant since it would have been shorter than ones are now and gotten one out of the way before our child arrived. His colonel wasn't willing to let him go and nixed the orders, so to some extent, I feel like we're on borrowed time. I look at my friends and their families in other branches--Army, who are gone for eons; Navy, who are a special breed to be out at sea; and Marines, who need no explanation--and am in awe of their strength and courage. Love and prayers to them all.

Things will right themselves in time. John is the sun of this baby's world, and she won't be able to resist her hero for long.

What's in a name?

Oh, you have to read this. http://online.wsj.com/article/SB118247444843644288.html?mod=most_viewed_day

Just when you think we haven't succumbed to enough silliness as a society, we now have baby-naming consultants. Don't get me wrong, it's a difficult and weighty decision, but paying a ton of money to someone to determine your favorite name's numerological vibe is, well, huh???

Naming a child makes planning a wedding seem like a walk in the park. You're saddling some innocent new life with something he/she has to carry through life, and you have to come to agreement with someone who may have a radically different view on the matter than you do.

We still didn't have a name when Emily was born. I'd brought up the topic several times throughout our pregnancy, but John kept saying how we didn't need to worry about it yet. Suddenly, at 36 weeks, he got a burr in his saddle about it and proclaimed that we had to come up with the list that weekend. (Not a moment too soon, as it turns out, since she decided to show up 3 weeks early.) I'd already made a tentative list of first and middle names based on things we'd tossed around over the years, but he had something different in mind.

Ever the enginner and electronics nerd, John came home with--I kid you not--an Excel spreadsheet. In and of itself, that didn't surprise me. The multiple pages with different iterations of the aforementioned spreadsheet did. He had various pages on which he'd matched the favorite first names with all the different middle names so we could see how they looked and sounded together. There were columns for his names (straightforward A, B, and C list) and my names (A, A-, somewhere between A- and B, B, B-, 'C-ish' list) and the names were given scores depending on where they were. X number of points for being on John's top tier, same number for my top tier, etc. Then they were given a combined score.

After that, though, he did the same with the middle names and made additional spreadsheets where he combined the names and it took a life of its own from there. The names wound up with various scores depending on how much each of us liked the first name individually, the first and middle together, the first and last together, and the whole shebang. However, these were then weighted depending on the relative importance. In other words, how much we liked the first and last name together was weighted more heavily than first and middle.

And after pages of spreadsheets and statistics, we wound up with... well, pretty much the same list I had sketched out in my laissez-faire, touchy-feely way.

While zipping up the Autobahn just before The Great Naming Weekend, I casually mentioned to John that, "I wish Eowyn were an actual name, you know? It's so beautiful, and she is far and away one of my favorite literary characters... strong, feminine, loving, brave." For anyone who knows John, this next part should come as no surprise, given his obsession with all things Lord of the Rings; watching the movies--extended version, of course--involves the use of the Tolkien atlases and other reference materials. After several quiet kilometers, he looked at me and said slowly and in a measured voice to carefully restrain his excitement, "Soooo... is that saying that you would consider 'Eowyn' for the baby?" How could I say no to that? Yeah, we considered it. Quite seriously, as a matter of fact. But I just couldn't do it to her, knowing she'd forever be explaining it and spelling it for people who were somewhat less obsessed with J.R.R. Tolkien.

But we still couldn't decide on a final one. We wanted to wait until we saw the baby and see which one of our short list fit. I'll post the story of her birth some other time, but suffice it to say I was not conscious for it and didn't meet Emily until quite a few hours later after we'd been stabilized. When she was finally brought to me and held where I could see her, I gazed at her face for the first time and waited for the light to shine, the angels to sing, and the epiphany to descend. It didn't, much to the consternation of the German hospital staff, who was shocked that the child had not been previously named or, for that matter, delivered on her due date.

We wound up naming our daughter Emily Grace, a name we had both loved since I'd had a dream about it while John and I were dating. But it was hard. With names like "John" and "Amy", I really didn't want to saddle my daughter with the most popular name for the last umpteen years. This frustrated me, because I've loved this name all my life. But we just kept coming back to this name for our child. And despite my hesitancy in naming my child a popular name, saying it throughout the day makes my heart sing. And I suppose that's worth quite a few points on an Excel spreadsheet.