Saturday night I tucked my 3 year old daughter into bed, explaining to her that when she woke up, she'd be 4. I pulled her close into a hug, reveling in her wild waves of hair and sweet pointed chin. Then she asked me, in a manner of speaking, if she would be a boy when she woke up. The tears collecting in my eyes turned into tears of laughter, and I gave up on sentimentality for the night.

This year we got to have her party on her actual birthday, and we invited some non-related kids, which was a first. She woke up talking about it. Actually, all of the younger set were pretty focused on the party. R2 stood in the kitchen, staring at the cake mix and making annoyed squeaking sounds all. day. long. Toby carried around a bag of balloons for about 3 hours, and Brynn screamed with excitement about everything all day. "I'm having TOAST because it's my BIRTHDAY!!!! EEE!" "Is this my BIRTHDAY SHIRT???" etc.

Finally it was time and we started putting out the sparkly pink stuff everywhere and making the little party favor bags, and I thought Brynn might combust. She could not contain her joy at every single thing. There is a tiny part of me that's not in denial, that knows someday they might be somewhat apathetic teenagers, and the energy and excitement of birthdays might weaken a little. Right now, though, it is the FUNNEST thing. I'm gonna blaze right on through that sentence, using the word I want to use and darning the consequences.

I made a cake. In the spirit of keeping this blog entry about me, let me tell you. I make food that looks strange and tastes good. I try so hard, and it never works out. I tried to talk my Valentine's baby into a round cake instead of the heart shape and failed. Note to everyone: heart shape cakes SUCK. They stick to the pan, yea, even though I grease it with animal fats and dust it with flour. Anyway. She loved it. She said it was BEAUTIFUL AND PERFECT.

It was such a fun party. She loved her presents, in fact she wouldn't go to bed because she was busy walking around in her party dress and apron, force-feeding adults plastic chicken and vegetables.

4 years old. She is a bossy, sweet, impatient emotional beauty. She brings me so much joy. Happy Birthday, baby. 

I never really planned on having a daughter. Shoot, I never planned kids at all, they just were very exciting surprises, every time. But you know, back when I was playing MASH and planning my dream house in 7th grade, I thought I would probably be a boy mom. That is, the mom of boys.

When I had a girl, I planned to use moderation, and try to gently steer her away from things that would make me sweat, like anything involving outdoors. So far, so good. She, on her own, showed an early preference for pink and tiaras, and except for making skunks ride in her Barbie Corvette, has pretty much toed the Girly Line along the way here. I try to encourage them to be whatever they want to be, and if that's a fairy butterfly princess today, fine with me. If it's President tomorrow, great. I've been planning that for a long time.

Lately, she has been looking at me like I'm a hero. You know, with the upturned lashes and the awe and such. And I am falling for it, bigtime. I mean, I always loved my baby. Now, though, it's something new and special, realizing that she is a girl, like me, and that we share something so sweet. I'm also realizing my responsibility to model womanhood, and motherhood and femininity and the whole package to her.

Some of you are probably gagging on all this sweetness and light. Give me time. I'll write something dark and moody soon, I'm sure.

I'm just geeking on the girliness. Can't get enough. I know it might end, and she will start picking hiking boots and wanting to play hockey. But for now, my little princess and I will enjoy this. I will teach her, in time, to be strong and smart and brave and independent. And sparkly and silly and pretty, too.

Over the last week or several days, we have been experiencing a real move of God here at IHOP. I won't try to define it, because I wouldn't do a very good job. You should just go over to the website and watch some archives and testimonies or to Randy Bohlender's blog and read this. To put it simply, we are being greatly refreshed and healed.

In other news, Brynn has established her position as Boss of the House in the last 2 weeks. She was bossy before, but now she reigns. "You don't DO that, Mom," she tells me sternly. "You don't say no to me." and so on. It would be far easier to set her straight if she was not cute.

But she is cute. SO cute. She is tiny, the size of an 18 monther, and she has a tiny little voice and tiny little fingernails pointing at you as she demands that you give her an apple, or put her beanie baby inside her purse, or whatever. And all of the sudden you realize that you are giving her the purple bowl because she demanded it and it's too late because you are sucked into a pit of adorableness and you have no choice.

Very, very soon here, I will reestablish my authority around here. I will look down on her upturned face with her rosebud lips pouting and her beautiful blue eyes filled with tears and I will say, sternly, "Okay. But this is the LAST time."

Brynn is 2 now. I always hesitate to say "terrible twos", because a)that's kinda cursing the whole YEAR and b)she's awesome when she isn't acting terrible. Also, it feeds into that whole kids-are-an-inconvenience mentality that I really really dislike.

Nonetheless, we have had a couple of terrible days around here, as it relates to Bean and her will.

It's a challenge for me to figure out, because Toby was so logical- I mean, he has always been into everything, and he makes lots of messes, but if I explain "You can't play with knives because you will cut your fingers and bleed," he gets that and stops playing with knives. Brynn does not believe me. In her eyes, I am a one man party crashing bully.

Today, Bean refused to wear a napkin on her shirt during lunch. Now, I let my kids eat. Sometimes, they get covered head-to-toe in spaghetti, and I just roll with it. But when we are out running errands, I want them to only get dirty in washable areas, i.e. not their shirts. (explore: vinyl clothing. Research needed)

It went something like this. I tuck the napkin into her collar. She takes one bite and then pulls the napkin out and throws it on the floor. I tuck it back in, explaining.

"You have to wear this because-"

"I NO WERDIS! NO NO NO!"

Brynn, you have to-

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"

"Okay, fine, you don't wear it, you don't eat"

(alarmed glances at nearby tables "Is she starving that child?")

"I WAND MY FOOOOOOOOOOOD! NO I NO WERDIS I WAND FOOD NO I NO!"

"If you want to eat, then you have to wear the napkin."

(wailing, concerned looks)

The MOG tells her, "You have to wear the napkin first."

(wailing, gnashing of teeth, "I NO WERDIS!")

The MOG asks me, "Is this the hill you want to die on?"

Well, no. Not anymore, with the bystanders and the screaming. I crumble and give the nachos back.

"I AW DONE. I GO TRASH." she explains, crumpling up her paper.

I cratered under the pressure. Will she ever believe I am the boss? Maybe we should just stay inside the house until this phase is over so I can spank and threaten to my heart's content. Sheesh.

you inpsire poetry 

tiny fairy

little imp

you are all that is sweet and beautiful

and fire and spark

you issue your commands

collapse on the floor in tears

scream in amazement 

captivate us all

oh the daintiness

and the elegance

you are the princess

and the jewel

Happy Birthday, baby!

I made a decision yesterday. After 16+months of feeding Brynn every 2 or 3 hours at night, I would like a break. I don't want to wean her, yet. She's most likely my last biological baby, and even though you can nurse an adopted child, I don't know if I will. So no, not yet. But nightweaning is sounding better and better.

The problem has been, I hate the strategy called "Cry-it-out", known in some circles as CIO. If you did it and it worked, great. Just not my bag. And most proponents tell me their horror success stories like this, "Oh yeah, Hildegard used to wake up all the time! So I just put her in another room like the garage overnight... true, the first night she screamed until she threw up. But the second night she only cried for three hours! And by the fourth day she quit crying altogether! Now she just stares at the wall with empty glassy eyes when I leave the room! It's great! I feel so RESTED!" And I look at my tiny little princess and I am like OH HECK NO I am not doing any variation of that with her.

But last night I decided to see what she would do, expecting to go get her after she would cry for a while... put her playpen in the living room and waited. Nada. I think she whimpered a little around 2 or 3 am... but not really. At 5:30 she woke up and was actually crying so I went and got her and nursed her. Then she was all excited and crawling around and screeching so I put her back in the playpen and she took it! She drank a little water and played with a toy and went back to sleep. CWAZY. Then she woke up for reals at 8, which is gravy for me.... 11:30 to 5:30 was like a vacation!

So I actually have a crib set up in Toby's room (she's been in our room till now). But I don't know about that... I mean, they would be waking each other up and such... and Toby might torment her a lot... and they would scream a lot which torments me. But I don't really want to leave her in the living room.

Whatevs. Point is, she slept. And no crying. I have won the baby lottery.

So, the glasses came in today. So far, Toby has not messed with them, probably because he has been asleep. Brynn has stolen them twice. And despite my adjuring "Don't put your face over there!", his face keeps getting within her grasp.






Pretty good, huh?
He's walking around tilting his head and looking at stuff... very excited and cute.

In other Clark news, we (Radiant) are definitely playing at the Call DC II. You should go. Find a bus, train, or plane... stick out your thumb and plan on sleeping in a tent, whatever. We will be gathering on the Mall in Washington DC, and fasting and crying out to God. For 12 hours. Or maybe 14. To quote Dr Phil, this is gonna be a changing day in your life. August 16th. Be there.

In other, other Clark news, Brynn is sitting up on her own now! She tried it the last day we were in Texas, and now she's a pro. Also on her agenda, pulling up. She doesn't quite have it, yet. But she gives it a good try. If we pull her to standing on something, she can't figure out how to sit down and will stand there whining indefinitely.

And that is the news of the day... later.

The big news... Bean now has pierced ears! How barbaric, you say. You should just get a Barbie. Ah, whatever. It is just goofy how excited I got after the girl finished piercing and there we were with our Just Got My Ears Pierced bag. It's like a rite of womanhood or something. VERY happy. Bean cried during the sticks, and then stopped immediately afterwards. That was a relief, as I feared the Apocalypse of Emotions.

Also yesterday, checkups for Toby and Bean. Toby is in the 20th percentile, which means he is bigger than 20% of kids his age. So he's little. But the pedi said he's smart for his age. I knew that. But I like to hear it, anyway. And Bean is 15 pounds and nowhere near any kind of chart. Which I knew, too. BUT she can pick up cheerios and give kisses and say mama and point, which makes her not that far behind.... Hooray!

Idol last night, it is as it should be. By the way, this is a good season. I'm lovin it.

The other night, I went out with my new pals to the Melting Pot. It was quite fun. I'm going to miss these friends when I'm in Nashville and Texas. So that makes a total of TWO nights this week I went out of the house, sans children. It was like being a man or something! I greatly enjoyed it but the MOG, he is weary. Not so easy, eh? MUAHAHAHA

Let me start by saying that Brynn has never really slept through the night. EVER. And she's almost 14 months old.... and before she came Toby never really slept, ever. So yeah, for 2+ years I have fed a baby about every 2 hours.
As of this writing, Bean has slept 5+ hours TWICE. That's correct. Viking Granny fixed her.
The thing is, I'm still tired. But that's preposterous! you cry. Ah, shut up. I mean, no. I just have not chosen to go to bed at an appropriate hour and thus am still tired. The end.

Last night was my support group/ home group. I was the prayer focus this week... so I got ministered to and that was a blessing. I like it when people pray for me. I mean, when I want them to. There were only 3 of us last night so it was cozy. We leave for Nashville in two weeks, and then after NVille for a month, we'll be in Texas for a few weeks. So I really only have one group left before June. And that's kinda sad. But adventures! Wahoo!

WARNING: loud background music..

We had a great weekend... I wasn't going to do Easter baskets because everything is insanely overpriced... but on a trip to my favorite thrift store, I found all Easter merch half off. I got 3 baskets, easter grass, eggs and large stuffed bunnies. 4 bucks. Because I am awesome.

Then I skipped church. On Easter. I'm like the opposite of the holiday churchgoer. But, I went last night. See, here's the deal. No disrespect whatsoever to IHOP. But Sunday morning services around here are so white. Like Whitey McWhiterson and the Cracker Band. WHITE. No soul. So a couple of weeks ago, when I tuned into the Sunday evening webcast here (we'll see if that link works), I saw soul. Eddie James is an amazing worship leader... and they were having CHURCH, y'all. So finally last night we went and it was so refreshing. I probably woulda got my dance on if I wasn't holding babies and wearing cowboy boots. I'll know better next time. So that's my new church. I go to night church with all the college students. Because I need less white in my life.

New pix going up momentarily over at http://www.clarkfamilypix.blogspot.com


Oh, and Richy got his first real royalty check from a guy who recorded You are Holy... I'm so proud of him!

Brynn is pukey. What are the odds... yesterday was the first day she ever sat up in the basket part at Walmart. And of course she put her mouth on the bar, we don't have a cover yet. Then she wakes up puking last night... sigh.
I received the offering, and told the MOG to turn on the light.. and there she is, in our bed... sicky and all wet and SMILING. She was so happy to see us... what a cutie. Anyhoo, that's the deal-eo today. Puke. I feel a little nauseous myself, talking about it.

bright
smiles and blue eyes

brynn means hopeful, you know
you remind me every day

deep
my heart aches over you
tiny one, my baby girl

you bring joy
in countless ways
and you aren't even trying

you are beauty and song
we celebrate you
with kisses and nicknames
and the ocassional piledrive from a brother

feminine
your rosebud lips and dainty charm
tiny fingers and fingernails always reaching

happy 1st year, let's have a hundred more
mommy

Now, yesterday I didn't post till 4 something... and those are some cute videos. So if you haven't, go and watch the vids.
My goal today was, if everyone was awake by the time R1 had to leave for class, we would throw our pajama-ed selves into the van and drop him off, so's we could have the van, see? And wouldn'tcha know it, it worked. So we came back home and ate breakfast and did 4000 diapers and so on and then we went to the Y. Now, we started getting billed for our Y membership on the 1st. But until today, I hadn't gone up there. (the childcare is from 8-noon, and it hadn't worked out) So today, off we went. It was a breezy 42 degrees in my garage, and so I forgot my jacket. Unfortunately, the parking is terrible at the Y, and did I mention it was NINETEEN degrees outside of my garage. All the kids were dressed for the Arctic, but I was not so fortunate. So back here to wrestle with the stroller and over here for this kid and over here for these two, and then waaaaaaaay across the parking lot and up the sidewalk, to the North Pole. And of course there are no automatic doors (for a community organization, Y's are notoriously NOT handicapped accessible). So finally we got in and I don't know if I have EVER been that cold.

I put the little people in Child Watch, which appears to be exactly that. Two women casually watching as children do stuff. Toby was all for it. I made it 15 minutes on the treadmill before Bean lost it and could not be consoled. Next time (tomorrow?) I might try some kind of class with her there by me in her carseat. Or something. I also tried a bike which I had to completely WUSS out on because it was so hard.

But I am proud of myself because I finally went. Now to keep going.

I love politics, but I hate conflict. Here's the thing. I am right. And if you're not willing to concede that, insta-conflict. Joking. Mostly.

So today I will away with politics. I will talk about Valentines Day. Because I love it.
I am all about present holidays. Birthdays, Christmas, Valentine's Day, Mother's Day, etc. I do not care about materialism, consumerism or the American marketing agenda. I just like presents. Imagine my surprise, when, after years of thinking my love language was quality time, discovered that it was actually gifts. So there you go.
So Valentine's Day. It's a bit of a conflict (cursed brain). On one hand, I am such a romantic. I want chocolates and flowers and sweet talk and candlelight and horsedrawn carriages and what-not. But the other hand finds that funny and cheesy and just a little awkward. Probably I need some inner healing or something. Oh, speaking of inner healing, I start going to a new class/home group next week. I think it's kind of an inner healing thing. I might think it's wussy, considering that I've been through Issues of the Heart 3 times. But it's something, and I need to do something.

Back to V-day. Bean's birthday is the day before, and I and the MOG want to buy her all the sweet little presents in the world. No danger of being spoiled here.

Today, I have been doing some very important research. The topic: can I paint a baby's fingernails?
I already know I can do toenails. (yawn) I have been doing that since she came home at less than 5 pounds. It is more challenging now, because she KICKS all the time, and yet less challenging because her toenails are actually visible.

What I have discovered: everybody has opinions and nobody knows anything. One comment I read said, "You should just get a Barbie!" Sheesh. And the general consensus is. no, you shouldn't paint them because you know, chemicals when she puts her hands in her mouth and so on. Which, duh. I have thought of that. But then I think, how many pounds of nail polish have I consumed in my life, biting the ol' metacarpal covers? Food for thought. (that was for you, Josh)

And okay, so she is tiny, and thus, the nail polish:person ratio is different. And I probably couldn't get it on her anyway. So I won't do it. But, since I have 30+ minutes to kill before my mommy lunch, why not read up?

And ear piercing.... maybe I should get a Barbie.