It’s funny how God works.

Waaay back last year I mentioned to Mr. MG that it might be nice to have another youngun around. I could tell by his look that he was not on board for this.

“I think we’re doing fine.” he said. He is the little brother to an older sister, and for him this was the right size family unit. (I am an only child, and I was the same way about having more kids after the Princess. I agonized over it for almost forever. The night I went into labor with the Bear, I crawled into her bed and held her sleeping little self and bawled.) He also worried about being outnumbered. And the financial stuff. And couldn’t I just leave well enough alone?

Unlike my usual tactic of being a big mouth and following him everywhere so we can “talk it out,” (also known as “sit there and let me word you to death until you agree with me just to get me to shut up.”) I decided to keep quiet and pray. Pray that God would change either my husband’s heart, or mine. And for strength to pipe down and not bug him about it.

Once, months later, I asked about it. Same quiet, trapped look.

A month or two later, he asked if I was still thinking about it. I said I was. Stony silence.

And I began to let it go. Maybe we were better off as a unit of four. Maybe the Bear was meant to be the baby. Maybe this was God saying enough. And I didn’t feel bitter. It was okay.

In February, Mr. MG said it seemed like a good time to try for another.

When I picked up my jaw off the floor, I smiled. I said that I liked odd numbers, three would be nice. And after that, I was pretty comfortable with a more permanent solution to family planning.

“Why stop there?” he said. “We can keep going and farm out the oldest ones to the grandparents.” Hmmm, I don’t think so.

A month later, here we are.

Now he has turned into one of those dads-to-be that you read about in pregnancy books. He’s announcing the baby to every person he talks to. He’s planning. The other day, when I was flattened by fatigue and a caffeine withdrawal headache, he went out and got Tylenol, a Coke Slurpee, and picked up a pregnancy magazine just because he thought I might like it. I am fairly reeling. He was already a wonderful husband and a great dad, but I think we can all agree that this is above and beyond the call of duty.

When God moves, it is big and it is multidimensional. He didn’t just change the heart of my husband, He changed mine, too. I wasn’t so desperate to have another, so I can relax now that it’s happening. Which gives Mr. MG room to be excited, now that I’m not taking it all up. God fit us together like puzzle pieces. And I already thought we were a good fit.

Tell me again why I homeschool.

Second-Graders Stab Classmate with Needle Found on Street

Kindergarten Student Expelled For Bringing Gun to School

Ah… right.

Because I am incredibly sleepy, and because I can’t seem to keep a thought straight in my head for more that two seconds, I give you the Kitten Cannon, emailed to me from Mr. MG.

He said, “Here, honey. This will help you feel better the next time the cats yack on the bedspread.” He is a sick, twisted, brilliant man.

Whoa.
Two lines.
The stick has two lines.
Wow.
What if it’s a girl?
What if it’s a boy?
My mom is going to totally plotz.
I wonder if I still have the number for the Mohel?
I’ll be second trimester during peach season!
Man, I’m hungry.
No candy for 10 months! Arg!
No coffee! Double arg!
So glad my midwife is home again.
Glad we got a bigger house.
Painting the kitchen will have to wait.
Those teeny diapers sure are cute.
I love odd numbers.
The Bear is going to be so happy.
The Princess…hmm. We’ll see.
I love getting big.
Labor!
Did I choose that for a third time?!
Gonna block that out for a while.
Mmm, soft sweet-smelling baby heads.
Chili fries!
That’s what I need!
Now!

I’ve gotcher affirmation right here…

I am so enamored with mom blogs. I love to read the different voices of women with widely varying family situations and backgrounds sharing about their lives. It’s so much more authentic than the whole “hear me roar” hubbub. I am woman, hear me blog about spit up, politics, homeschooling, marriage, dinner disasters, and religion, perhaps.

Anyhoo, I’ve got questions. I’m specifically tagging Donna, Kate, Monica, and TD, and the rest of the mothering universe. Post in the comments or leave me a link to your post.

1. Who or what inspired you to start blogging? Was it a whim, or a carefully thought out leap?

2. What bloggers inspire you now? Why?

3. What subjects do you enjoy writing about most? What subjects are the easiest?

4. If you could pick only one post to print, frame, and say, “That’s me,” what would it be?

5. What is your favorite flavor of cheesecake?

Update: Okay, Monica, I’ll go ahead and answer, too:

1. In 1999, when the Princess was a baby, I stumbled onto Lileks’ blog, The Bleat (which he then refused to call a blog). I love that he shares his family life, but never posts dirt about his wife, family, or kid, aside from the usual parenting foibles. As far as you know, his marriage is fabulous, he adores his wife and in-laws, and his child is smart, witty, and beautiful even on her wickedly goatish days. I’ve never forgotten his example.

From there I eventually found LGF, and from there the rest of the hawk blogs. But I was really discouraged that there weren’t any homeschooler blogs – I mean, I even Googled it! Bupkis! Finally, I stumbled onto Blogger (notice how much stumbling I do? Yeah, I’m like that IRL, too…) and tentatively started up. I Didn’t think anyone was reading it – except for my mom – until Thicket Dweller commented. Through her, I found the homeschool and mom blog community.

2. Like I said at the beginning, mom blogs really amaze me. It’s like sitting down to coffee every day with a bunch of fascinating people. I still love the political blogs for their fire, too.

3. My favorite subject to talk about is food. Oh, food, how I love thee! Food, food, glorious food! But the easiest is daily life, and especially my kidlets. They are walking post fodder.

4. I cried the whole time I wrote it, but I like this post the best. And I’m a cat person.

5. After 11 years of marriage, Mr. MG – cheesecake connoisseur – has won me over to the merits of plain cheesecake. We can sit there and discuss it like fine wine: Too much lemon? Smooth or grainy? And what is it with people not using graham cracker crusts anymore? Are they on crack? It’s not just dessert, it’s cheesecake.

Thanks to all who played along! What fun.

Wonder woman and generally all-around amazing person, Wandering Midwife is home! I talked to her on the phone today, and she sounded tired. (She only got in on Thursday or Friday – she couldn’t remember which.)

So here’s the update on her blog: A tiny local paper had e-mailed her, asking ten questions, and with a request to peruse her blog. She said sure. She never got to see the piece, but the online version had a link to her writings.

One post out of many (in case you didn’t get to read it) mentioned a woman requesting an abortion, which WM assured her she was not there to do. But with the newspaper’s link, the post got the attention of the Afghan government, and she was asked to wipe it out. The folks over there are very upset, the woman’s identity is not altogether safe, and WM left earlier than planned, under armed guard. A truly awful, awful situation for all the women involved.

I told her she has a story to tell for the rest of her life. She sighed, “I wish I didn’t have that story to tell…”

Please keep the women of that area of Afghanistan in prayer, especially the one most at risk. And lift up WM, too. May she get some much needed rest, and may her work have far, far reaching benefits to those she met.

Well, after months of tiny fever cycles, the Princess finally popped up a good, solid bout this weekend. It never got above 101, but she’s plenty achy and tired. The worst part was that it has been absolutely beautiful outside.

“Why does it have to be nice out when I’m sick?! Why can’t it be rainy and nasty, so I couldn’t go outside anyhow?” she groaned. Today, her temp is back down to almost normal, but her adenoids are still swollen (she looks like a really annoyed chipmunk) and it hurts to swallow. Hopefully tomorrow the worst will be over.

I don’t get to tuck away the fever journal yet.

I should have known that it was never going to be a happy relationship.

The day I hooked up that stupid printer, it went crazy – spitting out page after page of gibberish. Line after line of 0066%d uivmn8% %888 4nncyhc5r 533!!45b8v^. Right out of the box, it was already unstable. I would have sent it away to a nice facility with good drugs, but I needed it to work. A quill and a pot of ink are not an option.

After many fascinating hours on the phone with HP support, the problem seemed fixed. Well, mostly. Because if I ever got uppity and sent it a big job – oh, say, more than twenty pages – it would resume speaking in tongues. Other than that, smooth sailing!

Until Monday. Only three years after I brought this fiend home (notice how an extended warranty would not have helped at all), out of nowhere it became catatonic. No test page, no random signs and symbols. If I sent it something to print, it would freeze in its tracks and blink at me. Blink. Blink. Blink. But no page!

Turn it off. Wait. Turn it back on. The carriage would ride back and forth, and the poor thing would docilely roll out a blank sheet of paper. Is this what you want? No, hon, I really need my art class schedule. But thanks for trying.

Now I’m talking to a machine.

Time to call HP again.

After trying a few things they suggested, the carriage began to zoom back and forth, slamming violently from side to side as if possessed. The tech said, “Good luck with that. You’re on your own.” Okay, not really. At least, not in those exact words.

So the old printer has been sent away where she can mutter to herself in the dark of the back of the closet. She’ll be happier there, I think.

Meet the new printer! Oh, it’s fast. And it’s sleek. But best of all, it prints.

“Professional Artist.” Like “Professional Surfer” and “Professional Fire Eater,” it brings to mind someone who has both feet planted firmly in reality. (And – just so we’re clear – I’m all for artists earning a living with their talents. But it’s not earning if you put out your tin cup marked “NEA” and government thugs force me to contribute.)

Actor Baldwin, Other Artists Lobby Congress for Arts Funding

WASHINGTON — Actor Alec Baldwin joined other professional artists on Capitol Hill Tuesday to kick off Arts Advocacy Day and lobby Congress for arts funding.

Because, you know, Congress isn’t spending nearly enough money already.