Joule and Lincoln

Here’s a question I’ve been working on: How do you slow down and listen? (I’d appreciate responses.) I reread the Young Women broadcast with other stuff this week and marveled at how focused conference and Ensigns have been on really hearing and responding to the Spirit. Such amazing promises accompany following the Holy Ghost—I’m a witness! Yet, I catch myself rushing through my routine and schedule and list of whatevers to do (however nonessential) and wonder if I’m brushing off small promptings. How do you maintain daily priorities and hear the “still, small voice”—particularly when life is far from still?

I’m tired and scattered. Forgive this letter. Joule’s contractions have intensified enough to keep me awake—which is saying something since I’ve nodded off mid-sentence during stories, dinner, etc. But, staying awake is sometimes better than sleeping so I can count contractions as blessings in the moment and in preparation for the arrival of our new little guy. So many people have told me about the third child being the “worst year of their life!” because of adjustments and not enough hands for people; I recognize that this could be true. We’re still so excited. In the words of one of the girls I visit teach, we need things to stretch us and help us grow. We’re eager to grow with our little group, acknowledging it won’t be all song and dance (although I anticipate a lot of that, too!). As of Wednesday, I’m 60% effaced and at a 2ish. We assume I’ll have to be induced again. Hopefully this time they can just break my water on the 22^nd or so and we’ll be in business. For the record, our top three names are Keller, Creed, and Zerin. He may not be any of those, though. Levi informs us that his name is Keller.

Funny, nasty story: a cockroach (think two and a half inches at least, rust brown, crunchy) scuttled into the kitchen through the garage last weekend. I squealed. They make my stomach turn. The next day, we accidentally left the door open and a two more scurried in. Our hero in Dad’s armor squashed them all. The next day, he heard the scratching feet of a cockroach in his office—another near three-incher. They lost him. Later, he felt something climbing up his pant leg…yep, inside his jeans. Thankfully, no one was there. He grabbed the filthy critter, pulled his pants off, shook them out, and chased the rooster-fish to its demise. Much to our relief, all of Wes is still intact! Yuck!

We went to the temple yesterday. I doubt I’ll be able to make the trip again before Joule’s birth. The boys played with the acorns, sat in puddles, and jumped in the van. Through the rain, Levi watched the Moroni statue and told us that he took the trumpet in and out of his mouth. Deep breaths.  When Levi saw a picture of the temple at church today, he stopped, pulled me over and said, “We went to that temple yesterday!” Lincoln heartily agrees, “Mnriu!” (Moroni) “TEMP!”

After the temple, we had the opportunity to pick up a new sister for her baptism. This is the first baptism the boys have seen live. They loved it; I was glad to get to know this new member and her kiddos. I stayed for the RS broadcast: awesome stuff! Still pulling my thoughts together on that.

Monday was our long-awaited doctor appointment. I admit a little disappointment. I didn’t want to hear that my child is warped as far as sleep habits, but I do need some help. Maybe sleep isn’t the issue. Maybe we need to focus on something else. I’ve kept a 10-week sleep log with awaking times and all of that (Wesley averaged it all out and graphed it, of course). Looking at the averages, Levi gets a decent amount of sleep. Ten hours is not bad. But he cycles, waking up ten minutes earlier every day until he crashes. He wails about being tired. He’s listless with dark circles under his eyes. He has nightmares and terrors. He screams out in the night at least once every ten days. Hours he might have, but quality? I don’t know. The doctor looked at the graph and basically said that it sounds like he needs a nap every day. I know that. We do rest time, which he’s finally starting to get good at (once the timer goes off, away he goes too!). But, usually we separate the boys for naps. The doctor suggested making the process as close to bedtime as possible and coordinating the nap time and place. So we’re trying that for a few weeks. If we don’t have progress, he said to call again and we’ll go from there. Levi did collapse for two days—but he was also up during the night and then awoke super early for two days. Lincoln has slept less during naps and night. Good grief. I know we’ll figure this out eventually. I struggle with my patience though. Otherwise, the boys are nearing average percentiles and healthy, healthy, healthy. Hurrah!

In other boy events and news, we went visiting teaching at a park (since there were 12 kids combined with the three of us). We watched the kids of Wesley’s work friend who hooked us up with this house and they colored, played basketball, and jumped into the Hokey Pokey. They asked every day since then when we were going to meet more “new friends.” We bought produce in a Bountiful Baskets type approach this week, which means we have tons of spinach; the boys love spinach smoothies to our surprise and delight. We are almost done with the Halloween costumes (fire men with trucks made out of cardboard). How will we make Joule into fire? (or, as Levi says, “FI-AH!”). We enjoyed story time and the library with a stuffed bear bigger than me; Lincoln mauled him happily. I’ve been giggling over the conversations the boys share. Usually Levi commands and Lincoln teases. Levi, “Don’t climb on that Lincoln! It will fall on you!” “Hey, Linc. Don’t climb on the table!” “Don’t grab the knives they will hurt you!” as Lincoln climbs, runs, and laughs. During our attempted nap today, Lincoln figured out how to take his clothes off. All of them. Levi came out to report. When Levi’s rest was over, Lincoln started screaming for “DADDY!” and there he is, naked. He crawled out of the top of the onesie we buttoned under him. That’s determination for you.

Happy birthday to my brother! Every time I see a blue Toyota Tacoma, I think of you driving me to and from school and reminding me to be smart. I didn’t listen as well as I should have. And I’ll forever have a soft spot for basketball because you taught me to rebound to you, even though I never succeeded. I’m glad you’re my brother!

In honor of the Brigham City temple dedication, here’s a quote I found from President Packer:

                        No work is more of a protection to this Church than temple work and the family                            history research that supports it. No work is more spiritually refining. No work                               gives us more power. No work requires a higher standard of righteousness. Our                               labors in the temple cover us with a shield and a protection, both individually and                                as a people.

When I read this I was thinking about my home and how it should parallel the temple and how to help my children know the angels that support them and have paved their way. This could also be because we’ve been considering names for Joule, which always leads me to Helaman 5:6-7. We have such a rich heritage, physically and spiritually—do our lives really reflect that? How can we help our boys honor it?

The subject of agency has weighed on my heart for the last month or so. As individuals and as a people, we are not what happens to us but who we become as a result of our decisions and thought processes. I consider the amazing people I know, I watch my little sons, and I wonder about the choices we all make. I wonder how Heavenly Father feels when I do stupid things (I can almost hear Him patiently say, “Okay, Cassie, that’s your fourth check mark for the day with this sweet little boy of mine. No treat tonight. You need to earn that privilege back…”) Does He look at me and chuckle, hoping I’ll catch on soon? Most likely. Sometimes I think back on my experiences, simultaneously imagining the future experiences of my children. What decisions will they make? Who will they decide to follow? How do I best teach them and help them desire the best? Laman and Lemuel had the same parents and home life as Nephi and Sam and Jacob and Joseph, yet they chose differently. I take comfort that the future generations sought to help each other be reconciled to the Lord, from Ammon to Samuel the Lamanite. I am grateful for agency, but it takes courage to give it and courage to fully accept it.

On to the week! Wesley left for a conference in Wisconsin Monday morning at 4. He returned home Tuesday evening a bit before midnight. He presented some of his modeling research to professors, industrial professionals, and others interested in process control. Some offered him potential internships. He talked to a nice man who has worked for Exxon Chemical for about thirty years as they waited for their flights home. He answered Wesley’s questions for an hour. Cool. While travelling, he revised another conference paper and submitted it. Between the rush of last week, the conference, and the late hours, Wes has spent this week trying to recover. There is no “off” button to this boy, though—he just keeps plugging steadily away.

We feel like we’ve finally settled into the house. I still need to figure out a few picture things (we have so much space!), but we’re into life. Wesley has organized a group to meet for Saturday morning football at a nearby park. The sister missionaries ate dinner with us Friday. Tonight some friends and their kids came over for cake. We’ve concluded that dream homes have a play room. All the kids flocked to the back room with run-around space and joy; the adults actually talked (and could!) while safely monitoring from a distance. Fun, fun, for everyone.

Joule tries to break my water every day despite our encouragement to grow a little more. The ultrasound on Thursday shows that he’s a “wonderfully average size” and that we have nothing to worry about. Currently, he’s about five and a half pounds; he should be about seven and a half in the next four weeks. Not surprisingly, I’m already dilated to a one. The contractions have been hard enough that I’ve started to pack my hospital bag and talk to backup babysitters in case we need to rush off. I doubt it, but I like to be prepared.

Lincoln has been sick this week (still), in part due to the four new teeth he cut. Thankfully, we already have a doctor’s appointment scheduled for tomorrow. He won’t allow feeling less than 100% to slow him down, though. He shoved an entire macaroni noodle up his nose. We suctioned, tweezed, and prayed. Again his amazing nasal air supply blew the thing completely out. Good grief. I’m waiting for him to blow his eyeball out his nostril and laugh about it. Half of what he does is for the reaction. Levi tackled him in a panic when he put a toy in his mouth. Poor Levi almost had a heart attack and Lincoln couldn’t stop laughing. He watched Daddy mow the lawn this week, found some toe socks, and now wants to wear his “gloves” to use his toy lawn mower all over the house. Levi still prefers his eraser “ear plugs” when mowing.

Levi starts almost every phrase with “So—” or “Hey!” I hear “So—ABCDEFG…!” and “Hey! This is yummy!” Or, “So—Hey! My friends are upstairs. I’m going to get them. I’ll be right back. So…” (Yes, his friends still live quietly with us.) We bought him his own copy of the Book of Mormon for personal and family study, which he cherishes. He diligently repeats his verse of scripture every night. Since we’ve been doing this, his language has sped up surprisingly. He even approaches people, like cashiers, and asks questions. One of the unanticipated blessings of scripture study! Wow. Levi loves Joule. He watched and felt my belly ripple for a good 5 minutes in awe. “I did that in Mom’s tummy, too!” he told me. Then he followed up with “Joule likes me sooooooo much.” Both true statements.

Tomorrow we go to the doctor for well checks and in hopes of figuring out Levi’s sleep stuff: please pray that we can move forward to help him.

 Note the very important lion sticker on his head. A prized possession for many hours.

 Sunday afternoon. The party animals and me, the wide load, for the sisters.

Wesley dashed off in his metaphorical professional marathon-sprint with full force this week. Along with the normal school stuff like meetings, TAing/grading, working with other students and professors, he also prepared a presentation for this Friday. He was geared up and ready to go when word of the UT bomb threat and subsequent evacuation of 70,000 people happened. Who knows when the presentation will happen? We’re just glad that people are safe. What a miracle! At 9:30 they received texts and e-mails to evacuate immediately (into pouring rain). People obeyed, confused. We’re grateful for his protection, even if the threat was a hoax. We’re grateful for safety. Wesley zipped home on a bus and worked to the delight of the boys. Lincoln would peek into the office occasionally just to say, “Daddy! Work! Shut door shut door…” until finally he ran right up to Wesley’s lap. It’s hard to shut the door on Daddy.  Wesley leaves for Wisconsin for another conference and presentation tomorrow morning. He’ll do great. In the midst of this, he felt inspired to finish a paper to submit to next year’s ACC conference. The paper is due Monday. So, we prayed a lot and he worked a lot gathering results, etc., writing the paper, and finally finished it off last night around eleven. He’ll probably do another round of revisions tomorrow while travelling before submitting it. Part of this depends on his professor’s response to the paper and where he thinks it should go. Regardless—there’s a drafted paper touching on his summer work! Go Wes!

I hosted the first book group at our new home on Tuesday. The boys and I tried to invite our neighbors on Monday—but mostly we saw a lot of rustling blinds. One neighbor did come and had a great time. She’s a hoot—plus she taught English and social studies to junior high and high schoolers for about 20 years—such interesting thoughts as a result. We met a few other neighbors during the week; they love the boys, of course. Hopefully they’ll decide we can be friends. Book group turned out small, but cozy fun with cinnamon rolls (which were really for Wesley). Next month will be even better.

Book group preparation made story time even better. One story focused on rockin’ school shoes; Lincoln danced the whole way through the book. They love the libraries. We’ve been reading through the Caldecott medal books. This week they love Arthur Yorink’s book, Hey, Al—which is an interesting choice.

Another exciting event: our landlords replaced the dishwasher. The boys watched with wonder. Ah, tools.

Levi announced, much to my surprise, that “I like Mom’s kisses again. But, I don’t want them right now.” After months and months of pushing me away and trying to keep distance, I’m invited back! Hurrah! On Friday, he rode his “school bus” around the house. While riding, he met three friends! All of them had matching red backpacks and “blueshortsblueshirts.” All of them were named Levi! Shocking! The three friends have played, quietly, with us since then. They eat dinner, they pile up and down the stairs, they wait for Levi in different rooms. They all play basketball and have received multiple stickers for their “wins.” Hilarious.

Lincoln has been fighting some sort of sickness since we arrived in Texas. Poor runny nosed boy who never slows down. He even cut his naps in half! Today we tried to keep him awake in the car until we got home. Levi started singing, “POP! POP! POP!” and making weird mouth sounds. “I help keep Lincoln awake!” Oh the blissful noise that we usually curb. Lincoln just looked at him and grinned a tired, closed mouth grin. When I picked Lincoln up from the younger nursery, he went straight to Levi and held his hand, “Vi!” he sighed. Life is better with brothers. There are benefits to runny noses, I’ve discovered. Lincoln the Tease now loves shoving stuff up his nose—from paper to biscuits. He shoved a honey nut Cheerio up so far I couldn’t even see it, let alone tweeze it out. We prayed. He clutched his little hands in front of him and leaned on me. I love being a mom. After we said “Amen” he showed me his nose then blew really hard without prompting. Out the nasty grain dribbled. Another miracle.

We’ve been practicing on the potty more because Lincoln loves it. He just wants to sit there and sit there. Stand up and return. Wesley compares him to a dog who can mark territory on demand (or at least try really hard to). Good grief. We just need to convince him to stop peeing in his diaper because he’s happy to do it all on the potty. Training requires consistency though, and Joule’s around the corner, so we’ll probably stick to practicing for a while. Plus, Lincoln is not even 20 months yet!

We went to the temple yesterday. At this point, I shouldn’t be surprised at how well the boys travel, but I’m still just baffled that they can do a two or three hour stretch like we’re simply going to the store. (In fact, now that we live close to things, Levi has commented, “That was a short, short drive!”) I love the temple. I love feeling and pondering what home is. I love the bustling peace there—especially when new temple workers are being trained. I want to hug them. My parents went to the Brigham City temple open house this week, so I’ve been thinking about how different and beautiful each temple is. Each temple has that recognizable joy; that is probably what actually makes the temple and our lives truly lovely: they reflect God’s love. Part of this week’s goal is to calm down and slow down my response. I tend to react rather than think. To move/run into walls/holler rather than gently and thoughtfully proceed. As I’ve reflected on this, I’ve thought about how Heavenly Father knows how to best parent us. Sometimes, even when we want (or think we need) an answer right now He knows how much better it is for us, and how much more we learn, when He calmly slows down His response. I’m still pondering on this.

I started the week full of ambition, then slowly realized how tired and abundant I am. Losing motivation and ability to do as much as I feel should be done drives me crazy. Levi and Lincoln know the signs, “Mom being a monster!” and they peal into laughter. Joule is 100% active. Most of my energy seems to go to him! The contractions intensify. Nothing consistent or abnormal. Wesley placed his hand casually on my belly tightening into a rock, then said, “WHOA! This is normal?” Carry on, carry on, carry on! (Or maybe I should just go straight into, “Press FORWARD JOULE!”).