Hey there, Lola.

This birth was really unique and beautiful.  Mama went into labor on a Friday night, but by Saturday morning, labor stalled.  Her water wasn't broken so the midwives SENT HER HOME.  When you come in in labor, you expect to leave with a baby!  But by Sunday afternoon, mama's water broke and labor was back on.  Sweet Lola Blue came out blue which confirmed her name, but she quickly pinked up.  She unexpectedly weighed in at 10 pounds 10 ounces!  What a beautiful example of what a woman's body is capable of.  I loved capturing this birth story.  

Baby Nora is here!

Schroeder is TEN.

In the car the other day, Stephen and I listened to a podcast about the enneagram.  Maggie asked me what number she was.  I told her I wasn't sure.  We are still getting to know each of you.  You are still getting to know yourselves.  The enneagram has given me a new way of observing my kids, though.  For example, certain numbers have more energy than others.  Schroeder has energy.  He's up for a walk or a bike ride.  He's gets excited about a fun project or Littlest Pet Shop role playing game with his two younger sisters.  He wants to help cook dinner.  He's eager to join soccer and volleyball.

Schroeder is in fourth grade.  His teacher was Julian's fourth grade teacher, too.  At the beginning of the year, we went to a parent teacher conference ready to tell her all the ways these two boys are NOT the same.  She already knew.  She knew that he always needs a task or job.  She knew that he sometimes needs help staying focused.  She knew that he was curious and eager and impulsive.  She knew he was kind and funny.  It's always, always a gift to have another adult see your child for who they are...the beauty, potential, and problems.

Schroe has worked hard on making good choices at school this year.  On Valentine's Day, he was eager to start his party and became frustrated with a kid who was goofing off.  He made an offhanded threatening comment to the kid and got himself suspended for the day.  Every comment is taken seriously in today's culture.  I came home and wrote this.

"Schroeder threatened a kid today.  He uses inflammatory speech to gain power.  I want to help him gain power in other ways.  He has power when he believes in himself.  He gains power when he can sit with the truth that he isn't good at everything.  He gains power when he can speak what he means without inflating it.
He was so beautiful to me today.  He was humbled and remorseful.  He was eager to help around the house and thanked me for dinner."

He asked for a nerf gun for his birthday.  We told him no after the Valentine's Day incident.  If you can't respect the power of violence in how you communicate, we are going to limit fake guns.  I caught myself saying, "If you get through the rest of the year without any other calls home, maybe we can get you a new, big nerf gun."  Stephen looked at me like I was crazy.  Yeah, never mind.  Bad idea.

Schroeder has a friend who was recently diagnosed with diabetes.  It's such a scary diagnosis.  He has to go down to the nurse to check his blood sugar around lunchtime.  Sometimes Schroeder goes with him.  He can now tell you what levels are normal or elevated.  I can see his tender heart as he talks about his friend.  

He's also so sweet when he plays with the toddlers at church.  

A friend guessed that Schroeder was my favorite kid.  Ha!  My relationship with each of my kids is different.  They are different people.  There is an Avett Brothers lyric that says, "I wonder which brother is better, Which one our parents love the most?"  and the response to the question is "He said I love you, And I'm proud of you both, in so many different ways".  This is truth.  I'm going to make a print of it and put it in the kids' bathroom.  

I love Schroeder for his energy, his curiosity, his hugs, his dimple, his freckles.   I love that his favorite color is purple.  I'm proud of him for his determination.  I connect with him because we're both middle kids.  Plus, it looks like I gave him all my height genes.  I'm just now coming to terms with how my height has affected my life in a million subtle ways so I'm aware of the subtle ways it might affect him.  That impulsiveness was all from me, too.  You're welcome, kid. 

Happy first decade, my beautiful boy.  

Baby Noel is here.

She came a few days early, and labor was REAL quick.  My kids says she is named after me because my maiden name was Melissa Ann Clark and her name is Noel Ann Clark.  Sure, why not?!

Birthday posts from the flip side.

D'arcy is fourteen.  She's basically raised.  She gets herself up and out the door.  She makes her own money.  She eats all the vegetables.

She has her own calendar.  She's going to Model UN next weekend, a forum on school community over spring break, camping with her freshman class in May.  Four of her seven weeks of summer are already full of service and adventure.  She came home the other day and asked if she could go to Mexico with her youth group this summer.  How about you schedule a couple weeks to breath, girl?

One of the reasons we sent her to Shortridge High was it seemed academically focused without constantly referencing college.  We wanted her to be present and learn just because she loves to learn.  But D'arcy is planning her future. She asked me a month ago, "What do you think the requirements are to get into Notre Dame?"  She is in it to win it.  Which is fine until you feel that anxiety creep up, and you have to release some of the pressure of expectation just to be healthy.

She's finding joy in musicals these days.  First Hamilton, then Dear Evan Hanson, and Mama Mia.  She asked me over Christmas break to put on the soundtrack of Funny Girl.  

Here is our funny girl.

Maggie Lu is eight.  She is tumbling her way through her year; one handed and two handed cartwheels, round-offs, hand stands, and front walk overs.

Her bed is made even when she's sleeping in it.  Her clothes are always neatly rolled in her drawers.  She lays out her clothes for the next day, and is highly committed to being fashionable.  She comes to me asking, "What can I organize next, mom?"  or "Can I help you cook?".

We are trying to read every day together.  Reading has not come free to her.  Every word is worked for and earned.  I've only made her cry three times due to my horrible lack of patience.  But she gave me a card the other day thanking me for my help which made me cry.  Does that make us even?

She is articulate and deeply insightful, though.  Well, at least when her thoughts catch up to her mouth.  She is like me in that she often speaks before her thought is fully formed. 

She has a dear friend in her little sister.  They are partners in play, dance, and YouTube watching. But Maggie can't handle Penelope's inefficiency in picking up their room.





Julian is twelve.  He's taller than me, and any minute he'll be taller than D'arcy.  I just bought him a size up in pants, and already I can see his ankles.  Our friends are noticing his voice getting deeper.

Any non-scheduled moments at home are spent playing Fortnight or watching YouTube videos.  He and his friends can play together, each of them from the comfort of their own homes.  He has a head set that he talks to them through.  When I yell at him to clean his room, empty the dishwasher, or take out the trash, I'm sure that Leo and Nigel can hear me.

He joined the robotics team this year.  His group was excited because he "knows how to code".  He was invited to join 6th grade pre-algebra, and he's coasting through school.  There is a saying, "I can do hard things".  I'm worried Julian hasn't been able to practice that.

Girls write him love songs.  D'arcy played a song in the car and Julian says, "Wait, this is the song that girl wrote me."  He thought it was original, but discovered it was plagiarized.  He comes home often with tales of sixth grade romantic drama.   I get the scoop on who likes who.  He has consistently liked one girl, though.  He hates it when people ask if he's dating her.  "No, they are just friends."

On Sunday, Julian was sitting on the couch wearing a sweatshirt and shorts.  I told him to go put some pants on for church.  "I can't. This was the only thing in my drawer."  This is my biggest issue with Julian the twelve year old.  He seems to think his clothes just disappear if they aren't in his drawer or on his body.  I have to remind him that after he wears them, they go to the dirty clothes,  to the washer, to the drying line in my bathroom, and then into a clean pile.  Has he looked in any of those places for a pair of pants?  No.

He's a funny kid.  Always eager and willing to laugh, talk, and listen.  He's a real person now...not a half little kid person.

Something challenging happened to eleven year old Julian.  A trusted adult was accused of sexual misconduct.  Julian was asked to speak to the police about anything he knew.  Since Julian was involved in the case, a no contact order was put in place which interrupted Julian's close relationship with the man's son.  We had to have hard conversations and I believe the situation robbed him of some innocence.  I guess I should take my previous comment back.  He has had to handle some tough situations.