Girl Elevators.

Contrary to popular opinion in Indiana, Kansas is part of the Midwest. I know this because of the following:

1. Kansas is actually west of the Mississippi. 
2. We like to eat our chili with cinnamon rolls.
3. You don't have to drive too far before you see a grain elevator. 

I'm pretty sure that it has been scientifically proven that these are the requirements for saying you live in the Midwest. And I know that you are all sick of me waxing eloquent on the virtue of chili and cinnamon rolls. 

Therefore, my focus for today is on grain elevators. They aren't much to look at, but I like them. I think that is because I grew up within a few miles of one...this one to be precise. 

As a native Kansan, it warmed my heart when we were driving in town today and Sophia pointed one out to me. The conversation went something like this. 

Sophia: Mom! An elevator! An elevator!

Me: You're right. That is a grain elevator.

Sophia: Yeah. It's for girls to ride in. 

Me: Girls? No, it is a grain elevator, not a girl elevator. 

Sophia: Yeah, but girls ride in it. 

Me: No, it is for grain...like for bread. 

Sophia: Bread? You so funny mom. Bread doesn't ride in an elevator. Girls do. And babies, but only if they are in the stroller. 

Well...at least she thinks it is perfectly normal to eat chili with cinnamon rolls. 

Of Mom Awesomeness and Bath time.

You know those moments when you feel like for just a few seconds in time you were an awesome mom? This doesn't happen very often for me....mostly I feel like a really super okay mom. But occasionally, I have a moment of Mom awesomeness. A moment where I feel like I own this whole being a mom thing. Fortunately, the real world is there to kick me in the teeth before I get too full of myself, but these moments do exist.

Last night during bath time I had one of those moments. I put the girls in the tub, got them the appropriate number of bath toys (at my house this is roughly fifty million), washed their hair, and then proceeded to sweep, mop, Lysol, dump trash, and clean the entire bathroom while they happily enjoyed their playtime.

I even was so productive during that fifteen minutes that I was able to snap some pictures of my little girls splashing around.

Not to worry. This moment of Mom Awesomeness lasted just as long as bath time. After which both of the girls threw fits while getting their pajamas put on, screamed while getting their hair brushed, and sulked as they were put to bed. We were obviously back to our normal scheduled programming.

Roommates

When we got back from Fort Wayne we had a massive cleaning party. The type where I do all the jobs I've been putting off for way too long. Everyone got new bedding, bedrooms floors were found, closets were cleaned out, clothes were hung up, and socks missing their mates were sent packing. 

In the midst of this frenzy Ben and I had the same exact thought at nearly the same moment. I don't know if this happens in any one else's marriage, but it happens in our's frequently. I realized while cleaning Sophia's room that we had all just spend a week living in the same room. I started to think about making Elinor and Sophia share a room. 

As we were cleaning out around Elinor's crib, Ben looked at me and said "Would we be crazy if we moved Elinor into Sophia's room?" After telling him that I was just thinking the same thing earlier that day, we decided to bite the bullet and do it. Besides, we need to make some room in our space for the newest Ockree addition before this summer. 

The first few nights were a bit rough. Elinor still wakes up usually at least once a night and sometimes, like when she is teething (like right now), she wakes up several times. Elinor would wake up and cry, then Sophia would wake up and complain that Elinor was waking her up, and then Connor would wake up and wonder what all the "sister drama" was about. 

But everyone told me that it would be fine and that she would sleep right through the crying. And...it turns out that everyone was right. After just a few nights of crying, I went in to take care of little one to find that her sister was passed out. She did not even notice the crying. At. All. 

Here is to new roommates and successful room sharing!

 

Satan is a fool.

He really is. He doesn't get it. Satan didn't get it on Black Friday when Jesus took our own sins upon Himself so that He would suffer the punishment we deserved. Satan didn't get it on Easter morning when Christ rose from the dead, conquering forever sin, death, and the devil. Satan doesn't understand that this battle for the souls of the elect has been won. And, he doesn't get that he isn't the winner. 

We spent last week in Fort Wayne, Indiana. Fort Wayne isn't a perfect city, it can be actually quite annoying, there is a lot of traffic, and people don't really stop to say hi to each other. But, nestled in what feels like the secluded woods, you'll find Concordia Theological Seminary, a little spot of wonderful. At least, it is a little spot of wonderful to me.

Even on a cold January day it is still beautiful. 

Imagine a place where everyone agrees that Jesus Christ is the true Son of God, that He lived a perfect life for you, that He died a perfect death for you, and that He rose again so that you too can have eternal life. Pretty wonderful, right? Now add to that a place where everyone agrees that abortion kills babies, that traditional marriage is great, that children are a blessing, and that we should love and care for our neighbors. You are feeling the wonderful, aren't you? Then....top that off with a handful of people who think that Arrested Development is by far the funniest television show that has ever been created and can quote it on queue, and I think I've made a pretty convincing argument. 

"The seal is for marksmanship, and the gorilla is for sand racing."

Last week, the seminary held its annual Symposia. It is a week of papers and presentations, of liturgy and theology, it is a week of awesome. A week to be surrounded by super Lutheran people saying super Lutheran things. I told Ben that it was a week to get our Lutheran on, get re-energized  for his vicarage, and get ready for his pending call. And last week was all these things. It was so good that on the way home we were already talking about how would could manage to do it all over again next year. 

Last week, was also kind of a stinker. We ended up having to take our van into the shop and drop some major money on repairs only to have it continue to malfunction on the way home. Now we await our appointment at the shop here in town on Thursday to see what else is wrong and how much that is going to cost. In addition, after we got home Ben's laptop quit working, the hard drive just completely went out. There were other things too. A lot of things to bring us down and flood our newly re-energized minds with worry and doubt. 

Which brings me back to my original point. Satan is a fool. Satan hates the fact that Ben is going to be a pastor. He hates the fact that my husband is going to proclaim God's word each Sunday to all who will listen, he hates that we are raising our children to believe that what the Bible says is true, and he hates the fact that we are baptized children of God. He also hates the fact that last week we had a solid week of theology and friendship, and little bit of Arrested Development one liners. He hates that last week we were super happy and excited for the future. So he does the only thing he can do: he tries to make us despair. He heaps burdens on us. He takes away our security. He thinks that if he can just take away some of our blessings that we will curse God and will fall away from our faith. 

Satan is a fool because just as he didn't realize that Christ on that cross was God's victory, he doesn't realize that suffering only drives us to that same cross. When I have doubts, I do not despair, I pray...fervently. When my securities are stripped away, I do not curse God, I rely on His generous and constant care of my family. Satan is a fool because he doesn't realize that when he takes away some of our blessings that it reminds us of our true blessing: that we have been given faith in Jesus and that one day we will live with Him in heaven, our true home. 

Two isn't all bad.

I gave Sophia a hard time the other day for her general two-ness. I don't think that is a word, but I don't let a little thing like that stop me. 

It turns out that as hard as two can be, it isn't all bad. 

Also, there is nothing quite like a sleeping two year old to make your heart melt...and your neck to ache in sympathy. 

Ugh, I had forgotten about this.

I had a two year old about five years ago. I remember that it was terrible and awful, but I've spaced out a lot of the more grueling details. I think that may be because that two year old grew into a horrible three year old, and then an even more challenging four year old, and then slowly started to get better. By the time we got to five, two was just a distant memory and pain and suffering.

I have a two year old now and she has been acting her age for a while. It wasn't until today that I had that "oh yeah" moment. It happened at about 11:00 am when I realized that she had been actually either crying or whining since 6:30 am this morning.

You may think that I am exaggerating...I'm not. She had been literally crying or whining since she woke up. Never stopping, just continuing, never tiring, only annoying.

As rough as it has been and as much as I feel like it isn't getting better anytime soon, I still have this vague sense that Connor was so much worse.

I also look at my sweet little, precious, cuddly baby girl and think "you're going to do this to me too, aren't you?"

I guess that is one joy of having three kids right in a row. By the time Sophia is done being two, Elinor will be almost there. And, by the time Elinor has grown out of the terrible twos and into the tiresome threes, the baby will be ready to take over as resident tyrant.

Looks like I've signed up for at least another three or four more years of this fun. Bring it on kids. I can take it. And for revenge, I'll make sure that this picture makes it out on prom night.

No, no, no.

Elinor is almost 8 months old and very mobile these days. As such, the word no is becoming part of our regular vocabulary.

I'll give Elinor this much, every time I say "Elinor! No!" she stops what she is doing and looks at me.

However, she then blows me a kiss and goes back to whatever she was doing before anyway.

Parenting Fail.