GIRL!

The ultrasound was definitive – I saw the girl parts myself. (And that old commercial was wrong. Parts are not parts.) She was really super duper active, too. So much so that the tech wasn’t able to get all the views he needed – I have to go back for another one in a month. One of her hallmark moves was to curl up in a little ball and put her chin on her chest whenever he wanted a shot of her spine. (They don’t call it the fetal position for nothing.) Belligerent from the start.

The ultrasound guy was really nice, too. One of the only rotten things about getting this done is all the water they make you drink (and hold) waaaay before you even go in. About 15 minutes into the scan he said, “Wow, your bladder is just screaming full. Would you like to get rid of that?” Oh, yeah.

The very best, though, was that they brought the Princess and the Bear in for the last 15 minutes. We had been praying since the night before that they would bend their “NO CHILDREN!” rule for the Princess. When we showed up for the appointment, the nurse went and offered to bring them both in, before we even had the chance to ask. Isn’t God good?

The Princess is ecstatic to be gaining an eventual roommate, and to chalk up more girl units in the house. The Bear, true to form, is refusing to accept it most of the time. How could this happen, when he specifically ordered a brother? I’m sure he’ll be fine, as baby crazy as he is.

Only 20 weeks to go, now, before we see this little critter in person.

Tonight was the annual barn party hosted by our church’s Silver Eagles group. Remember last year?

What a grand time! Food as far as the eye can see (I’ll take some of that, mmm! and some of that, and that and – oooh – coleslaw!) and a sing along of old hymns, led by my dad’s bluegrass band, New Creation.

That’s him! And no flicking your lighter and yelling, “Freebird!” There’s the dry hay to think about, you know.

We look forward to this the whole year. It’s like having an extra holiday every summer. Kids run amok over the area, and the neighboring cows saunter over to the fence to see what all the noise is about, and to see if they can wrangle a treat out of the visitors. And the music, the communal singing, is not to be had like this anywhere else.

As an extra treat, our friend L came. She is a hoot! And even though this is her first, she let the Princess and the Bear take turns holding her two month old son. They were so thrilled.

The weather cooperated, too. Oh, it was hot – it must’ve climbed way up to 85! (She said, as she ducked nasty e-mails from folks across the nation whose brains had been steamed in their skulls like English pudding. Listen – I can’t help it. I’m tired of wearing long sleeves all summer. Ducking again.) It was hotter inside the barn, but we sweated it out on the bales, anyway, singing and eating bean salads. What’s a barn party, if you’re not in the barn?

Such a wonderful way to spend an evening. I’m already waiting for next year.

A little over a year ago, the Princess got her first glasses. This kid, who sat unmoving at age two for an hour of Sesame Street now couldn’t keep her buns in the chair for five minutes of video time. But now, it was just so blurry, she couldn’t stand it and had to wander closer. Her scrip was -1.00. Not too bad, although I didn’t get there until fifth grade.

She loved her new glasses in a way only a myope could. Suddenly, the trees had leaves!

But in the last couple of months, I noticed she was having a difficult time reading the words on the powerpoint at church. Sigh… Back to the optometrist’s. (She had a dental appointment this week, too. So I got the satisfaction of knowing that it was not just my imagination: she really did need to have her head examined.)

I knew she was in for a higher correction, but not that high. She has popped up to a -3.00. In just over a year. Wow! Visions of retinal tearing dance in my head.

Part of it is certainly genetic – every adult in her family has glasses. But a lot of it has to do with her habit of reading for hours without a break if she’s not interrupted. So she got some bifocals to ease the strain, and orders from the doc to take a break and stare out the window for every 20 minutes of reading.

The Princess is happy, though. She gets new frames out of the deal, and the promise of crisp foliage in her future. And how often is a kid commanded to stop reading and stare out the window? Lucky girl!

So, Kate asked me “what’s the haps” with the up-and-coming baby.

The whole morning sickness thing has disappeared. Now I want to chow down all day long. (Right now: home made buttermilk biscuits and honey. Thus the sticky fingers.) Here in Washington we have the very best strawberries – no, really. They have such a high water content, they will mold 24 hours after they’re picked. They melt in your mouth. They make California berries cry in shame for their woodiness. Alas, the season only lasts for 3-4 weeks. But while it did, I ate strawberries every waking moment. That’s not true… I stopped eating them long enough to eat salmon burgers by the gross, slathered in ginger wasabi sauce. And strawberry season may be over, but now it’s cherry season! And our local peaches and plums are debuting at the farmer’s market! And let’s talk about Mexican food! And -

Sorry. I’m just kinda hungry. (Still can’t handle sugar, but at this point, it doesn’t matter as much.)

I have to be careful with these sticky fingers, though, since I have developed an abnormally early case of PUPP. Almost all cases are first pregnancies, almost all are in the third trimester, but my iconoclastic self went and broke out the welts anyway. I want to take a bristle brush to myself. My midwife said she has had clients have good results with light therapy, but I doubt I’ll go that far. I’d like to avoid seeing my name in the paper under the headline, “Blotchy Naked Pregnant Woman Arrested for Indecent Exposure.” I’ll just sit here and scratch, thanks.

The kiddos are very excited. The Bear has switched and decided he wants a boy, but the Princess is insisting on a girl – even though she knows it means eventually sharing her room. Next week, if the little critter cooperates, we will know one way or the other.

But I think I’d better sign off for now. I’ve finally got the stickies taken care of, and there are some jalapeno potato chips calling my name…

So I sat down to nurse the new baby. Did I tell you? Just gorgeous. The biggest, hugest blue eyes and totally bald, unlike my other two who were born with full heads of dark hair.

Anyway, I sat down to nurse him, and flipped on some program on Discovery about the Falklands. Beautiful vistas, terrible battles, formidable weather. Really fascinating stuff! But I could feel that the baby was restless, so I went to adjust him.

It was at that moment that I realized my infant son had become a penguin. And he was restless and squirmy because he didn’t like my milk. I could not get him to latch back on! Instinctively, I knew that it was because someone had been slipping him formula. I was heartbroken because he wouldn’t get the right nutrition. Then I thought, well, who gives a rip if he likes formula better? He’s a penguin.

The tremendous mother guilt was unbearable. Because I knew deep down that I would never love this creature like I love my other children.

And then I woke to the Bear singing “The Laughing Policeman.”

How did you start your day?

9-Year-Old Girl Gives Birth in Brazil

“It’s very rare, and we have to investigate whether it was rape,” said Marina Mota, a press officer for theNational Health Foundation.

Gee…ya think?

On Tuesday, our friend Renee succumbed to her fourth battle with cancer.

It’s a hard thing to understand. Because she loved Jesus with a faith that was truly inspiring. She often taught the Princess’ Sunday school class, and was a cornerstone in the homeschool co-op. Our area lacked a Christian homeschoolers support group, so she and some friends started one. And even as she fought pain and fatigue, she would tell of how many ways God had blessed her lately.

She loved educating her boys at home – right up through high school – and loved teaching others, as well. The Princess always came out of her classes on fire for what was taught, whether it was Gothic architecture or missions. And any time I had a question, Renee had time to teach me, too.

So many times I saw her love of homeschooling, her love of family, and most of all her deep love of God and I would think, “I want to be where you are someday.” I want that confidence in teaching that only comes from years of doing it well. I want that stability in my family, giving my kids a launch pad into the world. And more than anything, oh please can I have that faith in the sovereign will of God through all things, without bitterness.

Well, Renee, more than ever – I want to be where you are. Because I know that you’re seeing Jesus face to face, and the struggles and the test of endurance is over. I cry for myself right now, because I’ll miss you in the interim. But I know that someday I’ll get to where you are.

And it will be so good to see you again.

From the always brilliant Cox & Forkum: