I'M COMING JESUS!

It happens to every Church-going family, and it happens often.  I can say this with conviction because I was raised in a family of redeemed sinners, and I now help my husband lead one.  Without a doubt, Satan's favorite morning to attack is Sunday.  I picture the Devil prowling the earth Sunday mornings with a skip in his step and a cheeky grin on his face, knowing he'll be successful in interrupting several parents from worshiping their Savior and absorbing God's Word.  How does he strike?  Well I don't know about your home, but here's how Sunday went down on Goodview Court.

Wake up Em, wake up.  Your twins haven't slept two out of the four last nights, but they're cutting 5 teeth between the two of them, and their poor butts are as red as the smoke detector light you've been staring at since 1 am while they let you hear all about it.  Desitin, clean diaper, tylenol, orajel, more cereal, more bottle, rocking, singing, sympathy sobs from mama...... and repeat.  But Jesus knows what you're dealing with, and he still wants to see you with His people today.  I'm up.  I'm up.  I hear the speaker from the women's conference in the back of my mind telling me if I'm not willing to make space in my family for being where Jesus is me and my family could miss all Jesus has for us, and my family NEEDS Jesus.

Directory pictures today- we need to look nice.  Did I wear this dress last week?  In order to answer that, I'd have to think hard about choices I made 7 whole days ago and I'm not sure my brain is there yet this morning- Polka Dots Round 2 it is.  I brush my teeth and start making bottles and Charlie's cereal.  Where's Andy?  Why isn't he helping?  I remember to keep the joy of the Lord, I won't let Satan destroy what I need so desperately this morning.  Charlie walks up the stairs and he's...well...disgusting.  We're not going to God's house like this.  I tell him to eat fast and then I'll run a bath for him.  I greet my drool soaked little screamers and realize they too need to be scrubbed down before Church.  Three baths, two bottles, and one bowl of cereal later everyone is clean and fed.  It's times like this I'm glad I don't have little heads of hair to braid.

Andy gets up and I bribe him to make me an english muffin while I get the boys dressed.  I originally was going for a matching look, since that's apparently the twin thing to do, but then settle for one lucky twin with a cute outfit and one unlucky twin with a nineties hand me down.  Praise God for clothing they'll be warm in, even if it's corduroy knee patches and color-block polos.  I remind myself Jesus doesn't need us to meet Him only when we're attractive, he just needs us to show up.

On the way to Church Charlie tells us all about how green light means "Go," yellow light means "Whoa," and red light means "GO HOME!"  ???   He goes on to explain that he's "Starving-er than Kuhle (our child from Swaziland we now sponsor)."  No you're not, not even close.  Andy's jokes are striking the very nerve I'm barely keeping and the twins are still crying.  I can basically hear the drool ruining their shirts.  Deep breath, don't let the enemy win.  I'll miss these days one day, isn't that what they say?  I politely tell Andy that once we get inside I'm dumping the twins in the nursery and giving Charlie two pieces of gum, which usually muffles the questions... if not halting them all together so I can focus on worship.  His response, "Well you can do what you want with Sawyer and Charlie but I'm holding the fat one- he loves me."  PERFECT! You do that-  Just sit a few pews behind me and take a plug if you don't mind.  I have a much needed appointment with Jesus I can't miss...or else.

I can honestly say my heart was still in the right place and I was choosing to take courage over the situation rather than giving in as we started toward the Church doors from the back of the parking lot.  I was carrying an oversize purse, a diaper bag, the before mentioned 'fat one' in his carseat, and coaxing Charlie to walk faster.  We were moving as fast as possible with all my cargo and then Charlie insisted on doing the 'hokey pokie' all the way to the door.  He keeps yelling, "Mom watch me!  I'm growing up SO fast."  It was at this point as I was waddling awkwardly towards the sidewalk I just kept thinking that if Jesus could just get me to the door, I promise I'd be receptive and surrender myself to His teachings, I'd apply His principles and promises to my life every day this week.  He'd just have to get me inside these walls and I'd be His.  I don't remember saying anything aloud, but I'm told that I then loudly exclaimed "I'M COMING JESUS!  I'M ALMOST THERE!" 

Imagine the sight of a disheveled woman toting far more than she should and dragging four boys as fast as they'll move towards Church, and then hearing her screaming phrases to heaven on top of it.  I'm surprised they didn't just lock the doors before the craziness could enter!

Praise God He always gives us a way of escape, and that we can take courage over circumstances that try our patience and test our peace.  Just writing this two days later, my morning obstacles seem ridiculous and petty, but at the time it took constant dependency on Jesus to not snap at one of my boys and then beg for them to put a smile over those tears for Directory Pictures.  Making space for Jesus where there seems to be no give in life is something I haven't done well- it's way too easy to blame backsliding on life, whether it's having babies, crazy work schedules, a family member with a sniffle, or even out of town company.  Someone once told me it's very rare that a child grows up to have higher expectations for themselves than their parents did- and if that's true we need to put the utmost urgency behind maintaining a relationship with Jesus and His people, even when the world gives us an out.  His Mercies are overwhelming and I've learned some amazing things these last few weeks, this is just one.  Hopefully it encourages you to not lose hope or momentum- we're leading little souls and it's an enormous responsibility.  Praise God for His never-ending patience when ours runs out.  II Timothy 2:13- it's just who He is!

Bald Spots and Lukey Piggies

You know when you start a new job, or a new relationship, and you sometimes have to pinch yourself in the beginning because it just hasn't sunk in yet?  Normally that wears off as new becomes old, and fresh schedules fall into routine.

Well we're going on 10 months with the twins now and I still have to pinch myself daily, or let one of them do it, because having three little boys still seems so surreal.  Me, Emma, I, have three children, three boys.  I haven't even begun to understand what blessings and challenges my little wolf pack entails, but I'm starting to get small glimpses.  So.....here are a few glimpses straight out of the loudest home on Goodview Ct.

Last night I walked in at about 4:15 from work and Charlie greeted me, along with every pair of shoes he's the proud owner of, at the front door (which I could barely swing open due to said footwear).  What do I see?  Glasses on his face that I'm 110% sure he cannot see through with all the fingerprints and . . . food?  I hope those are food chunks?  What else do I observe on my four year old?  Why none other than the very same shirt and shorts he's worn since Monday.  Four days, one outfit, not bad.  He gives me a big hug and says, "I missed you mommy!  How was work?  Are those guys just drivin ya cwazy?"  Someone's been listening in on mommy and daddy's conversations about mommy's work.  I quickly kiss the clean spot on his face and carry two babies upstairs.

Since the arrival of our twins, our home has lost it's cozy clean feel; it's now cluttered with baby things, the largest obstacle being their 'kennel.'  Judge away, but Andy and I are all for the kennel.  It keeps hot-wheel cars out and babies away from stairs.  I plop my purse, the diaper bag, my laptop, and the car seats down and put the babies in their respective jail cell, on separate sides of course- gotta buy myself a couple minutes.  I then grab a cold glass of pineapple juice and head toward the couch to convene with my husband about dinner plans.  No sooner have I attempted to sit when Charlie's lion toy "Alvie" makes an appearance out of nowhere under the burp rag I sat on.  Ouch.  Every dang day I manage to sit on Alvie.

I then hear screaming from the kennel and look to find Sawyer making a snack out of Luke's toes . . . again.  Luke's still a little gummy bear but Sawyer has popped through a set of beautiful chompers and I'm not sure if it's because they're so pink and plump, or if it's revenge for Luke pulling his comb-over hair chunk all the time, but Sawyer's very favorite things to chew on are Luke's toes.  Where Luke puts everything in his mouth, Sawyer is particular.  He'll take a pacifier, or a plug as we call it, and other than that it's just Lukey Piggies for him- no teething rings or rattles.  Poor Luke.  The twins spend at least an hour each evening in a vicious circle of toe chomping and hair pulling, which they can conveniently do simultaneously while lying side by side.  Socks and hats you say?  Oh they're far beyond figuring out how to remove those, and barriers like that just make the forbidden fruit all the more enticing.  Good grief.

As soon as I remove swollen piggies from Sawyer's clenched jaw the crying stops, and the silence allows me to hear what's going on in the kitchen with Charlie, and what I hear is spitting, a lot of spitting.  I choose to ignore and let the problem come to me- never a good decision but sometimes all my patience, or lack of, allows.  It doesn't take long and Charlie comes running in.  I'd say nothing surprises me anymore, but that would be underestimating a four year old boy.  Charles runs in with a mouth FULL of cat fur.  I bypass the pointless question, why, and go straight to how.  He's gagging and spitting and attempting to pull fur out of his mouth- so I take him to the toilet and we start pulling it out together.  This was quite the task and by the end of it his four day old shirt was soaked with sticky drool and fur.  When his condition was stable, I asked him if he bit Tink.  His reply was simply, "No, she scared me so I grabbed all her fur and put it in my mouth."  Well alright then, seems reasonable.

We made dinner and after eating I was sitting at the table and Charlie walks up and puts his finger about a half an inch from my eye and says, "Mom I love you, this is for you."  By the time my eyes focus on his finger, and the giant booger on the end, it's too late and I now have a Charlie booger on my eyelid.  I can't help but wonder if this happens to other moms.  I explain why it's not okay to put your boogers on other people, a concept I've explained before, and one that is completely confusing to Charlie.  He sees it as a true gift, a piece of him has been shared.

The rest of the evening was relatively low key, mostly consisting of Charlie telling me Jesus wants him to have a cell phone and following me around with his extended Zebra jaw clincher.  He uses Mr Zebra to bite my butt and speak ridiculous nonsense like "Luke and Sawyer want Zebra teeth for their teeth mom" through his zebra friend, directly in my ear, wherever I'm sitting.

Alas, the evening finally quiets and my three little gremlins settle in for bed around 10 and my husband leaves for work.  Tonight in my cluttered home you'll find a sticky four year old with all the best intentions, a smiley bald chub of a baby with teeth marks on his toes, and a toothy baby and paranoid kitten both sporting bald spots.  They're so sweet when they sleep and I cherish their little calm faces knowing tomorrow is coming with a new set of fabulous adventures, and if we're lucky, a different shirt for Charlie.

Tink

Well hello fellow victims of this ridiculous winter!  Endless snow- endless shoveling- endless cold.  What on God's white earth were we thinking buying a house in this vast tundra?  It takes me 53 minutes to bundle up three children, hook up two apnea monitors, and desperately plead with one cat to not run out the door as soon as I open it.  I know it takes me 53 minutes because I've timed it, 4 times, and 53 minutes was our fastest.  God forbid the house ever catches fire- at least we'll all go together.

So speaking of the cat- this is the story of how our kitty came to be Tinkerbell Bryan Helmer.  (Charlie thought it fitting that she shared his middle name)  In July I was pregnant and suffering from terrible morning sickness.  I tried crackers.  I tried toast.  I tried Unisom and B6.  I tried warhead candies and tea.  .  NOTHING worked, so naturally . . . I adopted a kitty.

It seemed only fair I had some fuzzy cuteness in my world while spending days and nights by the toilet.  When Andy agreed, I was overcome with joy, but mostly surprise because I never expected him to be on board.  It was the combination of these confusing emotions that hurdled me into a momentary lapse of sanity and I shouted out in the restaurant we were in, "Oh thanks baby!  Since you're letting me get a kitty I'll get you a PS4!"

Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.

He had already agreed!  And to think I'm a business woman.

So one gray fuzzy orphan and one PS4 later, here we are.  Tinkerbell was unable to eat on her own when we adopted her, or walk, or clean herself- so we resorted to turning into Mommy Cat 1 and Mommy Cat 2.  I bottle-fed Tinker, and Andy used a warm wet painting rag to clean her so she would get used the coarse feel and learn to do it herself.  Yikes.

Charlie had to be careful at first, but as soon as she was big enough to handle, they instantly became best friends.  The problem is they have one of those unhealthy friendships.  He attacks her, she attacks him, and yet they just keep at it, neither side retreating.  I've seen Charles pulling Tinkerbell Bryan Helmer by her whiskers, tail, ears, armpit fat, and the skin above her tail on her butt.  When she was first born Andy carried her by the nape of her neck and Charlie didn't necessarily draw the connection that you can't just pick her up by any old chunk of fat and skin.  More often than I tell him to not pass gas at the table, more often than I tell him to push his glasses up, more often than I tell him to not walk out of the bathroom butt naked with Pastor over . . . . . .  I tell that boy to QUIT PULLING TINK'S TAIL.  I've even sunk so low as to pull on his ears and legs so he knows just how it feels.  That usually works, for 3 minutes, and then they just keep falling back in their abusive patterns.

My parents and sister came to help with the twins these last couple weeks, and while company was visiting I noticed the background noise subside and become 'naughty quiet.'  Every mom know what 'naughty quiet' is.  I began my normal search in the laundry room where Naughty Tink and Naughty Charles can usually be found.  Nothing.  I checked Charlie's room, the crawl space, the downstairs bathtub, and my closet.  All empty.  Finally, I ended in the kitchen where  I heard a giggle and a hiss- two sounds best not heard together.  I followed my ears to the pantry, a small closet big enough only for some Mac and Cheese, a jar of Ragu, a naughty little boy, and his naughty little kitty.  I peeked through the crack of the door and found Charlie sitting under the shelf, feeding my dad's raspberry icebreaker mints to himself, as well as to Tinkerbell Bryan Helmer.  People I have THREE of these boys- just imagine what will be when I have two little besties watching their big brother and egging each other on.  Retirement housing may be in order for Tink before too long.  I will say this- the mints did add a nice touch to the odor coming from Tink's litterbox.

I have to get on with my job that pays, but I'm going to try and add some pictures to this so you can see what Charlie and Tink have been up to.  Yes she's been buckled into the bouncer.  Good grief.  Thanks for reading!

L and S

I can guess how much poop is in an infant size ostomy bag before I even have to suck it out with a syringe.  Do you think I could put that on my resume somewhere?  These last few months have been a surreal experience and I cannot WAIT to tell you all about it. 

So in May Andy and I started talking about maybe trying to get pregnant again.  We were thinking we would try in July so that the timing would be ideal for my work season.  No sooner had we uttered the words, "maybe" and "baby" when God decided, "NOW."  June 8th I discovered I was pregnant.  June 21 I discovered I was pregnant with twins.  September 3rd I discovered I was pregnant with twin boys.  Every day in between I was sick.  October 22nd I was admitted to Mother-Baby in Abbott for pre-term labor.  I was 23 weeks pregnant and I stayed in the hospital for a week on a lot of IV anti-labor medication.  I went home at 24 weeks and sat on my butt for 2 weeks.  At 26 weeks exactly, I walked from the basement to the kitchen, did a couple dishes, and walked back downstairs.  The doctor that discharged me insisted that this would be fine as new studies proved true bed-rest to be less successful as previously determined.  I knew better.  My friend from church drove me back to the hospital where I was taken by ambulance to Abbott Northwestern, the only NICU to care for infants born between 23 and 32 weeks.  I sat for 3 days in the hospital on more medicine and on November 13th the same doctor that discharged me the first time was rounding, so I told Andy to pack my bags.  Sure enough Dr Wagner came by and said to start thinking about discharge and he wanted to pull me off all anti-labor meds as I was having some mild side effects.  Not even an hour after he stopped my Nifedipine, I began contracting again and within an hour of that the emergency C-Section was ordered by none other than Dr Wagner himself.  Andy had the day off so he and Charlie had been in my room spending a little time with me before I came home.  I had a remote attached to my bed with power controls for the drapes on my window.  Andy had convinced Charlie earlier in the visit that Charlie could control the movement of the drapes with a certain voice command.  Charles loves the show, "Jake and the Neverland Pirates," so Andy told Charlie if he stood facing the drapes and yelled, "AHOY!" they would go up and down- all while Andy was pushing the remote buttons.  I watched the power of Charlie's voice command and Andy's manipulation go straight to both their heads and it proved an entertaining mix-up for my otherwise boring day.  Everything changed when the C-Section was ordered.  You would think with all the pre-term labor I experienced I would've expected to probably deliver early, but I couldn't believe it was happening.  I knew the odds of survival, never mind living a normal life were rough for babies born as early as mine would be.  Labor nurses were scurrying, Doctor Wagner was checking my progress every few minutes to make sure I wasn't going to deliver two upside-down babies my own way.  The TV was still on and Stephen A and Skip Bayless were going at it, and I was in some of the worst pain I've ever felt.  Andy was on the phone with close family letting them know what was happening and finding someone to take Charlie for the night.  With the chaos, I feared all this was too much to take in for a 3 year old and I looked for Charlie around the room.  My eyes found him in a fit of frustration standing over at the window.  "AHOY!   I SAID AHOY!  DADDY IT'S BROKEN!  AHOY!"  Okay so he was fine.

The twins were delivered in a whirlwind and the C-Section is something I'll never forget.  You ladies who have had those really had me thinking it was rather easy... not so much.  They were yanked out, yes YANKED, and then they both cried for a moment before being whisked away to a waiting team of Neonatalogists.

Two months later both boys are over five pounds and doing far better than I ever could've prayed for.  Churches across the country put us on their prayer lists, church family stepped up and provided meals and childcare for Charlie.  Family and friends came from afar to help in any way they could.  Entire communities gave in encouragement and support and God provided.  Lucas Andrew and Sawyer Rodney will see, hear, smell, taste, grow, run, laugh, and love for as long a life as God gives them like any other little boys.

The boys are still in the hospital but will hopefully go home in a couple weeks and boy are we ready.  The commute to downtown Minneapolis and back, sometimes several times a day is consuming and my heart hurts every time I pull away from Abbott with empty car seats in my back seat.  I realize we aren't going to come up with any more time when they come home, but at least they'll be home.

Soooooooooo- I guess all this means I will have a lot more to blog about.  I'm fairly certain three little boys won't disappoint for some good stories and lessons learned. 

Bra Straps and Piddly Problems

Once upon a time there was a happy, healthy, energetic girl inside of me. 
Once upon a time my skin glowed from the sun and my 6 hours of sleep was plenty. 
Once upon a time I'd throw on shorts and tank and walk to the lake with my little boy.
Once upon a time my house was clean and my hair was done nicely.

Once upon a time I didn't pee my pants on a daily basis.
Once upon a time .....

Andy and I had talked about the possibility of another child before my son got too old, we liked a gap but didn't want it too big.  No sooner had we tossed the idea around in a prayer or two when I got the hunch and took a test.  Positive.  I shared my news with Andy in a very carefully-laid out performance and he was overjoyed, as was I.  This is obviously what God wanted! 

Two weeks later Andy left for Las Vegas with a friend while I got hit the night before by the morning sickness truck.  I was tired, sick, and not looking forward to a week alone when I decided to go the doctor and ask for the medicine they'd given me last pregnancy to help retain some of what I ate.  Andy was still on the plane when the doctor ordered an ultrasound to check dates and look into a small concern he'd noticed in my abdominal exam.  The tech was taking her sweet little time telling me what was going on and 20 minutes into my ultrasound I finally asked if she could see my baby and whether or not she could verify my dates for what my due date would be.  She hesitated for about 5 seconds, which was more than enough time for me to think about each and every terrible thing that could be wrong with my little one...twice.  She finally clicked one last click on the keyboard and looked at me with an expression I couldn't read.  I blurted out, "Well can you see my baby?!"  She slowly replied, "Well, honey, do twins run in your family?"  This marked the first of many episodes where I peed my...well...gown in this case.

Since my six week ultrasound I've come to accept a lifestyle I never in a  million gazillion trillion poopillion years expected.  For one, I was popping out of my pants and shirts two weeks later at just 8 little weekers.  My bras started making it nearly impossible to breathe, and it's always fun to walk into a bank with an unsnapped bra up at my chin- I ALWAYS remember to unsnap them in private, but not always to RE-SNAP them.  My poor husband and close friends have gotten real used to this oversight. 

Another big adjustment I've made, and it still surprises me how easily I've desensitized myself to this- I get peed on A LOT.  Let me explain.  Andy just potty trained Charlie and let's just go ahead and call him a dripper.  Without fail,  he pees on me every single time I help put his undies back on after going potty 497 times between getting home from daycare and bedtime.  It doesn't phase me, I wipe it on whatever is closest and move on without flinching.  Then there's me, I pee a little every time I sit down, every time I yawn, every time I sneeze, every time I cough, walk down steps, or slam on the brakes.  It's gotten to where I bring extra pants everywhere I go, which is tough when I only have 3 pair that will embrace my new body. 

Pregnant with multiples, Angelina Jolie has done it and if the tabloids are correct, she's doing it again.  M Carey did it.  They all bounce right back and look so chic while doing it. Not this whale.  No way.