What happened to all the posts?

 I'm not exactly sure how it happened or why, but in 2014 I wrote the fewest blog posts ever since I started the blog in 2008.  It wasn't even close.  It was down by HALF.

Sure, we were busy and all that stuff ate up writing time.

And it's valid that my grandpa's stay in hospice and traveling to visit him and the funeral and the sadness left me without time or energy or motivation to write much beyond what it took to process and document my grief.

I feel bad that I wasn't able to focus on cute little things my kids were saying and doing.  I noticed them, the bright moments. They were nuggets of joy that took the edge off my stress and grief.  But I didn't record them.  I didn't sit with them and ponder how God was teaching me and refining me and blessing me through them. 

As 2014 rolled into 2015, a friend asked me what my goals for the year were.  Not resolutions exactly, but simple goals.  I didn't really have any.  But then I started thinking.  Two simple goals I've set is to take more pictures of the kids this year and to blog more.  

This quote from Mary Oliver sums it up for me:

"Pay attention.

Be astonished.

Tell about it."

That's it.  

I want to be mindful of things.  

I want to be wowed and awed and inspired by them.  

And I want to share them with you again.

Lucy is playing so much.  It is adorable to watch her as she pretends.  She is loving baby dolls right now.  She wraps them and rocks them and feeds them.  At night she puts them in my bed and asks me to feed them.  In the morning she checks to make sure I fed them when they cried.  Her favorites have been named Rosie (pronounced "Whoa-sie" which makes me smile every time she says it) and LuLu.

"In play a child always behaves beyond his average age, above his daily behavior. 

 In play it is as though he were a head taller than himself." (Lev Vygotsky)

I can see this clearly in how Lucy is playing now.

 Isaac is really feeling the stretch and pull between little-kid and big-kid.  He's funny.  He's smart.  He is learning more history by playing and running around while we read it than if I made him sit still at the table with us for school.  I heard him tell a kid at Sunday school that he wanted to be an archeologist when he grows up because he loves history so much.  Many years ago, growing up, I, too, wanted to be an archeologist.  :)

 Anlynn reads every day, on her own, because she wants to and she can!  On the day of this picture she had asked if she could watch a movie on Netflix.  When I told her no, she grumpily asked, "Well can I go outside and read?"  As soon as I said sure, her whole demeanor changed.  She whipped happily around, found her stuff and headed outside.  She snuggled with our kitties and read like this for over an hour.  As a woman who loves a good book, I delight in this new love of reading Anlynn has found.

Amana is in the throes of early adolescence.  Her emotions are heightened, she is extremely sensitive about ev-er-y-thing, and she cries just about everyday.  I don't share this with you to embarrass her.  Just to record it.  This is simply another season of our journey in parenthood.  I am often reminding Amana that I am here to help her through this rough season.  I've been gently telling her that her feelings, though extremely real, are not always based on what is true.  And that it's my job as her mother to tenderly (though sometimes not as tenderly as I would like) help her determine if her reaction is appropriate.  For example, she might be in major meltdown mode because Lige gently poked her as he passed her in the kitchen.  I'm off to the side waving a "Too Extreme" flag!  Not literally, of course, but now that I think of it, it might not be a bad idea.  ;)  Surging hormones make it hard to determine what is rational and what is too much.  (Ladies, can I get an AMEN?!)  So I'm just trying to help her.

Harrison boy.  He's still cute.  He's still funny.  He's still short with white spots.  Since the tests we ran last fall determined there were no underlying medical conditions, we are just letting him be.  We were passed off to a dermatologist, as you may recall.  After one $400 medication proved unproductive, they tried to get us to try another -a steroid- but we have opted out.  His diagnosis of Vitiligo is non-life threatening.  It is completely cosmetic. The odds that the creams and ointments will actually re-pigment his skin is low, based on research. So at this point, we are done.  We will continue to chart his growth annually to make sure his growth remains on track, but we've decided not to pursue any further testing at this time.  The bright spot (a pun!) in all of this:  Harrison remains unfazed by his lack of stature and his spots.   He is aware of them, but they do not get him down.  For this I thank the Lord. :)

It's taken me weeks to finish this post.  Whether I really don't have the time anymore or if I'm just not taking the time remains to be seen.  But I'm trying. :)  It feels good to write.