Picture Journey of a Twin Pregnancy - 23 weeks!

So the old faded jeans that have been recording this pregnancy had to go, as they finally ripped entirely. What started as a somewhat hide-able hole in the inner thigh finally wrapped its way around the whole entire upper leg area. The search is on for another favorite pair of jeans. In the meantime, these will suffice.

Closer up...kind of looks a little bigger. Still so very hard to comprehend that there's 2 in there!

Just a Picture Post

Ever our fearless one. If it's not syrup bottles cutting off her toe than it's black eyes. This is the result of taking a completely fearless leap from our bed to the unforgiving wood floor below while I was cleaning the nearby bathroom. As in....she completely intentionally leaped from bed to floor. She scales anything and regularly jumps from whatever highest point can be reached. Our tiny little stunt girl.

Oh sweet tiny girl

The playroom project...coming right along. The plan is to paint the nasty sponged brown walls each a different color. We have 4 walls that are painted while the rest is original rock built in 1920 or so. Pretty cool. Each non-rock wall will be a different bright color unless we can work out an arrangement with art students. If I could do murals I would...but that's kinda out since nowhere in my body exists the creativity and ability to paint like the rest of the family. I think it's a patience thing with me. If it takes more than an hour it's not my thing. If the college student plan some of the local ASU students to come out and do different murals on each wall rather than the different colors. THAT would be cool. If we can pull that off one will be a navy scene with a battleship and aircraft carrier since we have military loving little boys, one would be an on-ground military scene with tanks and jets, the 3rd wall will be a fire incident scene a bit like what exists in Firehouse Sub stores..or as close as we can get...since we have tons of die hard fire truck and ambulance fanatics around here, and the other a horse and barn scene for the girls. College students get credit for it all, we get an imagination dream for kids and it's free. Doesn't get better than that. So, more phone calls to make tomorrow. If the ASU plan doesn't work I'll then to go to our local highschool to see if they can work with us. Anything's going to be better than something that I try and I put on that wall...unless it's just plain bold and bright colors...which is the last but still entirely fun resort!

Folded up treadmill and TV for dvd workouts in the air conditioned space! Notice the fan in front of the a/c aimed at the treadmill. Kind of funny. It doesn't take much to get hot these days. This entire area will also eventually be covered in padded mats.

Still working on it. Two of the bookshelves will go and the one remaining will be a pantry. The frig will also be moved and the 2 dressers in the far left corner have already been moved. The larger, much heavier dresser Brad and I actually got up the attic stairway since Grayson was helping with a move in town..the other smaller dresser fell apart all over the driveway on its way to the trash pile as Brad tried to transport it. It was definitely worth a good laugh. And on the dresser note...I don't think I have ever in my life put anything that heavy and that massive up any attic ladder.

And by the end of it the entire floor will be covered in the padded square mats. This will also serve as jiu jitsuing husband's roll and wrestle area. He's teaching all of our boys, and about to add a local 21 year old that loves coming to our home, to his student roll call. 21 year old wants to learn and he gives muscular husband someone a little more size worthy to roll with...since I can't exactly be an active participant at this stage of the game.

How many kids can you fit in about 4 square feet????? If you could see the water it would disgust even the dirtiest of people. After they vacated it for real showers and baths the bottom of the tub was left with mud so deep I am quite certain I could've planted a garden in it and it would've flourished. And Grant, plastic spoon boy, was in midstrike as he was hitting Garrett over the head trying to get him to move over. Garrett, on the other hand, thought it was hysterically funny.

Watching the rain...it's a novelty here.


Shift nights. My early morning bed buddies.



The joy of dining with boys...our truck and trailer boy. His obsession continues. Since, as a general rule, nothing is allowed at the table but food during mealtimes, this would be after everyone was done and he gathered the leftovers for hauling purposes.

3 of the 10 most absolutely amazing gifts. I continually stand in awe over how blessed we are.

Wild girl with both big brown eyes...before the incident. As of today and this post, she is still our one brown eyed/one black eyed girl.

To Run or Not to Run

Sooo....probably not. As of now, despite how heroic and strong I'd like to seem or truly be, I can't find any research anywhere that encourages running while pregnant with twins. Lots of stuff can be found on running while carrying a single baby...but not 2. Perhaps that is why I felt so near death when I was actually in motion..cause I wasn't really supposed to be in motion....at least not quite to that extent.

And there came a point after the sonogram that I had to finally realize that running just may not be all that conducive to pregnancy right now.....or pregnancy may not be all that conducive to running right now. I suppose it works both ways. So I have laid it down until after babies arrive. So far, everything I can find says not to go into an anaerobic state....which it takes me a mere 3 minutes to hit, if that, when I run. On this journey of a healthy pregnancy...single baby or two...along with a completely full term pregnancy and uneventful birth I have had to weigh my options and in weighing it all found that the babies are the goal and not what superhero status I can achieve.

So, I have taken it down a gear and am now walking 3 1/2 miles a day. And that little 1/2 part in there....it's spent walking sideways and backwards on a treadmill. Let it be known that when Biggest Loser utilized this technique with their victims that none of them were front heavy....as they were just kind of heavy all over but didn't exactly appear to have weight distribution issues. I, on the other hand, largely pregnant with 2, figured out about 2 steps into it, that I indeed have weight distribution issues. And I quickly learned that it is highly advisable NOT to start walking sideways with treadmill in motion...and really very advisable to start walking backwards on a stopped treadmill. Trying to jump on a moving rotator belt sideways and backwards is about like trying to jump on a train doing 150...despite the fact the belt itself is only moving at a mere 2.5 miles an hour. Pathetic, I know. And it only took me half a second longer to be jet propelled off the back of it too. Not to be deterred I hopped back on feeling rather stupid at this point, and determined to master the art of strong legs and skinny thighs. Though I do know all too well at this ripe old age of 34 that to actually ever think I could have "skinny" thighs is just flat living in denial and the equivalent of smoking crack to try and believe it. So, I have settled on just aiming for strong, muscular legs...and the Biggest Loser seems to give satisfactory results by having their people walk forwards, backwards, sideways and every other way on a treadmill. I think if they could get them to do hand stands on it and walk that way they would. All for building upper body strength in that scenario, of course.

And true to their results, my legs have been feeling it all last week and most of this one. And I can assuredly say that my efforts of walking abnormally on a treadmill have greatly improved, along with my posture, balance, coordination and sense of spatial awareness with this largely rounded stomach of mine. I can't exactly say I ever reach an anaerobic state in that gear but at least my thighs are getting some noticeable results and my butt has nothing to really lose in the deal...except a few inches...or well, alot of inches.

And I must say, it feels more than a bit odd to hit an anaerobic state by just merely walking. It used to take 3 minutes of running to reach that state...now I just have to walk at a 4.5 for about 2 minutes to feel as though I am suffocating to death in my deliciously miserable state. And given the fact that I have contractions for days after any anaerobic activity...such as all of the running I did before the sonogram, I have backed it down to walking at a 3.8 for 3 miles..which takes a little less than an hour. It's always an irritation factor to be that close to a 60 minute workout and drop it just due to the fact you've reached your destination goal so I continue on until the 60 minute mark is reached. Then I continue on with my death defying sideways and backwards routine until I reach whatever my goal is for that day..usually 10 minutes for each leg and 10 minutes for backwards acrobatics. That ends that session and later in the day I move on to my booty bootcamp routine...which consists of strength training with bands and/or your own body resistance and target spot workouts for half an hour. Seeing that my stomach is growing by the centimeter each day it's hard to really tell if anything is really coming of this and even the slightest results are being achieved. But, I figure it might pay off in the end and, if nothing else, I may just deliver two babies in a record 2 hour time frame due to muscles knowing what to do and a built up threshold for pain with a higher tolerance for any and all of it....at least in theory anyway.

This will be the 1st pregnancy I have actively worked out the entire duration of it. I made a commitment long before I knew there were 2 and I intend to stick to it...despite the fact it has already had to be modified in our new found knowledge. I worked my entire pregnancies with both Grayson and Evye cleaning dr's offices and banks nightly and when we worked...we really worked. Get in, get out, get the job done well. I swam almost the entire time in my 1st twin pregnancy so staying active is not proving to be too entirely difficult this time around.

It works well, too, doing it our newly converted playroom to workout room. The boys set little army guys on the moving treadmill while I walk and laugh hysterically as they are flung half way across the room as the belt rolls. With stringent rules given that they abide by well, knowing they absolutely under no uncertain terms can touch the treadmill ever they simply toss the men onto it and watch them fly. I've stepped on my fair share of them and smashed off a gun or 2 but overall this is the great entertainment of their day. Ivye rolls around all over the floor and busies herself climbing and sliding down her little slide for hours on end. So, the arrangement works well and keeps them from destroying house and home.

Overall, I'm pleased with it all. It's a little disappointing not be able to run when I had such high aspirations to maintain it. I did read in the book Running & Pregnancy of a woman in there that had a single and then 2 sets of twins. She ran a marathon in her single pregnancy and then continued to run 40 miles a week while pregnant with her 1st set of twins and then was told only to swim during her 2nd pregnancy with twins due to having needed a cerclage early on in her 2nd twin pregnancy. That didn't sound so wonderful. She swam a mile and a half a day until 20 weeks with her 2nd twin pregnancy and then was told to stop all activity for the duration of the entire pregnancy. I just figured I'd much rather stop running and just walk very purposefully as opposed to ending up in the ER in preterm labor with a cerclage.

So, for now, I walk. I started running when Ivye was only 3 weeks old and again in December once we got my iron levels back up from the long, arduous miscarriage. So, I am fully confident that if I keep this routine up that I'll be running once more hopefully when babies are around 3 or so weeks old.

If Our God is for Us

...then who could ever stop us? And if our God is with us then what can stand against us? Our God is greater, our God is stronger. God you are higher than any other. Our God is healer, awesome in power. My God, My God. You are my God.

Yet more pictures of our tiny boys. The top is of Baby B finishing up a yawn. The 2nd is the sweet picture we were able to get of Baby A with head tucked in, both hands clasped firmly over sleeping face.

Preoccupation fills the heart and soul. We've been down this road...a mere 5 years ago but still it feels new again, still the feelings of nervousness like a first time twin mom mixed with tingling excitement of what life holds....how blessed we are. 5 1/2 years ago babies made only the addition of four and five to our family and the older three were only 6, just barely 4 and 18 months. Only one was school age and life seemed simple, albeit lonely, as commuting husband began his 2 year separation from us four weeks before they were born. This time around we have 5 school age children in addition to a 4, 3, and 2 year old by the time they arrive. I have no doubt we can do this...now more than ever. The older ones are older...even Garrison, Grant and Garrett having their daily chores. Dishes get routinely done after each meal, floors stay clean, wash stays done, clothes stay put up. School stuff has found a schedule throughout hot summer months where Texas heat drives even the most heat tolerant children indoors. Life is organized with a very good, routine flow to it most days. Traveling has become easy as we have learned the essentials and how to organize it all. But still....my mind tries to wrap around the fact there are two babies.

Baby B as he once again turns face into arm and falls back asleep. If they continue this sleeping pattern with face turned into arm they will make the 2nd and 3rd babies that have slept and comforted themselves in this position. Gavin still does it to fall asleep.

So, we focus now on preparations, as there is only a mere 16 to 18 or so weeks left before they arrive. Cooking and freezing many meals, the birth itself and even just the mundane details of life. Suddenly we both realized that we will go from needing only 3 seats in the van with nine children to needing all 4 to fit us all...which means loss of cargo/hauling space. Thoughts turn to putting in the 1st, 2nd and 4th row seats, leaving a broad space for any and all stuff between rows 2 and 4. Or doing as friends have done and modifying the seat arrangement by fitting the longer 4 seat bench in the 3rd row spot therefore accommodating 3,3, and 4 children on the 1st, 2nd and 3rd rows.

As my mind finally came to a peaceful resting place as it all began to soak in and reality became more of a reality instead of shock and excitement the tears of total gratefulness began to fall. Tears that seemed to release so much of what I have continued to hold onto the past year. Tears that I did not "fail" any parental test I was given by God but that even amidst the emotions and the anger that the Lord still saw my heart and He knows Brad's heart. He knows how much Brad is in love with the children we have. He sees his dedication to raise them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord and walk in the truths of righteousness. He knows my beloved husband's heart and how soft it is for the children we have been given. He knows the guilt, the blame that soft hearted husband has felt and has had to deal with in all of this. He knows the anguish of his heart as he watched us lose a baby and sat helplessly by in a hospital chair..nothing he could do to make it all go away.

And the tears began to fall out of gratefulness, and total humility, of the blessings that we have been given despite how much I have yelled and screamed at God, despite my lack of faith and total loss of trust, the volatile emotions that swing as a pendulum, rocketing between total abandonment to God and defiant anger. And I realized that just as the passionate heart of David captured the heart of God amidst all of his emotions and passion-filled life as he committed adultery, ordered a man to be killed due to his own lust and took beautiful Bathsheba for his own so does any heart filled with such passion for the heart of God despite the failures of human-ness. David filled the pages of Psalms rocketing between overwhelming joy, immense fear and utter despair.....yet still he was favored by God who saw his passionate heart, who loved him for his uninhibited spirit, who saw the potential of a man whose heart was given in abandoned to the heart of God despite his many setbacks and failures. What is more of a loss...to never live and be afraid of the fall or to live with passion and fall greatly? For those who fall can get up and move on even stronger than before...but those that never fall never know what it is to experience the mercy and grace of God in ways that alter the course of one's life and change the course of history.

And in the story of David I have seen that despite how far I can fall, and how much I can so mess up, how badly I can miss the voice of God, He still sees my heart and loves that which He sees in me...that I am worthy of His attention, His grace, His mercy, but more than that I have His favor. We are indeed blessed beyond measure, beyond the ordinary. We live a life that has indeed ruined us for the ordinary because we have begged for it, we have begged and been on our knees to see the hand of God in ways that most people will never know. And when I felt abandoned and forsaken in ways few have ever known I am coming to see that it is all in answer to what we have prayed for....to live this life so that we can see Him more clearly than we ever would have otherwise....to know Him more intimately than I ever imagined. When I have so missed it and so messed up, ignored the still small voice and continued to lay there in laziness He is using it all and turning it into a life story woven by the threads of His mercy and grace to show who He is and how forgiven we are. That I can commit crimes worthy of death and worthy of having all blessing and favor stripped from me yet still He looks at my heart, He looks at the longing to live a life committed to Him in total abandon and He forgives. And He goes even farther than forgiving....He blesses and He extends favor to those that love Him and are committed to seeking His heart and drawing closer.

I have pushed away in anger as I have screamed at Him and I have drawn near as I have wept in utter despair, feeling so entirely forsaken by Him. I have not been the exemplary model of Christianity. One specific night took place a mere six weeks ago as I had reached what I knew to be my end. As we watched several friends and families rejoice around us as very long uttered prayers began to be answered my ability to rejoice with them began to wane. Day after day there were phone calls and news from what seemed like an infinite amount of dear people around us that called to report amazing ways in which God had begun to move mountains within their lives...mountains of no tiny insignificance. Big, mighty mountains that only God Himself could move. And my pity party grew exponentially as I dwelt on the life we have been given to live. How forsaken and alone I felt...every feeling compounded as it came back to haunt my heart and soul.

With husband on the phone, completely unaware of my state of mind, I took off walking. Children tucked into bed, summer winds blowing out the last rays of daylight, darkness settling upon the surrounding pastures. I just needed to escape the chaotic state of my own mind. The merciless games within that pervade at times. Feet seemed to find the old road to the river and so I walked, down through the pastures and along the curvy path of the river. Moon rising, cool winds of night blowing hair from face and every thought from mind. So much anger pervaded that tears could not fall. Finances were at an all time low and we were hundreds of dollars overdrawn. Business was so slow that we were now paying out of pocket for the business just to try and keep it out of danger. Vortex spraying husband had not had a truck to spray since Feb or March...I couldn't remember which....but long enough to know that his meager fire salary was not supporting our family of 10 along with a mountain of business expenses.

One thought led to another and my mind eventually found its way back to last summer...now almost a year ago. How could He? How could a God that promises to protect and hide you in the shelter of His wings, under the shadow of the rock so allow a violation such as what happened to take take place. We trusted Him. I trusted Him in every way to protect our children. We have followed what we feel He has laid upon our hearts. We have opened our heart to these children He is continuing to bless us with. We have done what we felt He has called us to do yet my heart grew angrier as I pondered how trampled on it has become. As He has taken what we have given Him and thrown it under the bus. Tears began to fall as I thought of the martyrs that have gone before...the life of suffering for the sake of Him to which they were called. And so I swung between mounds of guilt for not being grateful for what we have been given and total anger for what I felt has been stripped from us. Other large families around us making large six digit incomes while we follow our hearts and the conviction upon it and try to live on less than 40 grand a year. It didn't seem fair. None of it seemed fair.

Armed with a gun, for the occasional passing rattlesnake and seemingly ever present pieces of crap with no good intention within their mind, and my phone I walked for two or so hours lost in reverie. Ringing phone momentarily jolted me out of my funk as angered and worried husband sought my location, combing the streets in his truck. I quickly dried the tears and bolstered myself for the taxi'd drive home I knew awaited. I didn't talk. I didn't feel like talking so said nothing. After repeated attempts on his part to dig it out of me I knew that if I let go at that point I'd unleash it all....and no one deserved that...especially the one man that I hold closer to my heart than life itself, the one man that I would never in my lifetime want to inflict pain on or bring hurt to in any way. My dearly beloved, who in no way deserved this kind of wrath that festered within. So, I remained quiet as he continued to dig deep, knowing me well, and the healing yet still raw wounds began to bleed again. And in my despair I began to cry and the more I cried the madder I became. We sat in the driveway within his truck, windows rolled down as early summer wind blew and stars lit up the night sky beyond. I did eventually unleash it all...even going so far as to why God would answer all of those around us yet still continue to ignore us..as if we have been left floating in a life raft on this tumultuous sea without any hope in sight. And the life raft seemed to be deflating in a not so slow manner....and seemed, in fact, to be blow torching its way to deflation. Abandoned, forsaken and alone...all words used over and again that night. Why...when we have devoted ourselves to Him would He let something so horrific take place. I failed. I did fail in every way...but He could have stopped it. His guardian angels do have purpose. There's a million ways He could have never let it happen. And why...not only did she have to endure it all did He not comein and heal her ear supernaturally after it was all over?? Why were we left still dealing with the life changing, permanent damage that seemed to have been done when He could come heal? And why...when we had so come to embrace our baby did he strip it away? Despite the fact I was pregnant yet again amidst the dire predictions we were given of infertility why did it ever happen? Why was it not just even a normal miscarriage...but resulted in 6 months of royally screwed up hormones. Any why on earth when something is suppose to be a 48 hr process did it take 13 wks for us? It wasn't just the fact it happened but the nature of how it all happened.

And in those many angry words that night I pondered why, when I had prayed so much for a second set of twins, did He continue to ignore it and look us over as 2 different families announced the news of their pregnancies and 2 more yet announced the discovery of twins. Angry, angry words directed at God. Hateful statement even made that it was a good thing we were not expecting twins since we couldn't afford them anyway, seeing as how He didn't see fit to provide for the ones He has already given us. Through the torrent of tears angry words flowed and then quiet sobs. Husband sat, tears of his own flowing as he was left wondering so many of the same things, the responsibility he feels in providing for his family, his own loss of trust in a God who promises to protects and his heart filled with the helplessness of how to reach me and fix the seemingly ever present hurt.

I have wanted, longed for, the opportunity to do twins over again...the "right" way in my mind. My first twin pregnancy was tumultuous and filled with the fear that doctors instilled due to my "high risk" status, the fear that they would be entirely premature, then the fear after 36 wks that they were entirely "overdue", then fear that a promised natural birth would now be a mandated c-section due to the vertex/breech positions of the babies. Something we had very definitely covered at our first interview with him...the very specific position of vertex/breech...which many months ago he had been supposedly "fine" with. At 37 weeks I was pushed to schedule a c-section date, in which I refused. At 38 weeks with commuting husband absent I was told I must go straight to the hospital for a c-section since it was no longer safe to carry the babies past this point since they were now "severely" overdue. I again refused. My seven years of apprenticeship as a midwife and my months upon months of research of multiple pregnancy assured me the babies were not in any grave danger..and were, in fact, doing exceedingly well within their uterine environment. It was said, they were in danger of cord deterioration, placental abruption, amniotic fluid loss and complete uterine rupture due to size...all of which I knew to be entirely far from the truth based on my stats and the well being of them at each weekly ultrasound I had. As I refused at 38 weeks to be admitted on the spot I was then threatened with 2 counts of child endangerment and notified that he would be pressing charges and would see us in court as I jeopardized two entirely healthy babies. He refused to let me leave his office so I sat emotional and helpless and feeling totally alone as husband worked 250 miles away, unaware of everything taking place. I gathered myself back together, came up with a plan, quietly slipped to the receptionist's desks in which I was told that I could not leave his office and she couldn't allow me to proceed. I quickly told her I was on my way to the hospital to be admitted and I would see the good dr there. I hurriedly left and drove away as far from the hospital as I could get....calling Brad to let him know that the dr was pressing charges. I received a phone call a few hours later in which I let voicemail answer. It was the doctor saying he would see us in court, that my babies were going to die and he was terminating my care.

From 38 to 39 weeks of my first twin pregnancy I had no doctor. I spent an entire 40 hour week on the phone with different offices and being met with shock by the medical community saying I should have had the babies weeks ago and my doctor was right. My babies were in jeopardy. Eventually with the help of many midwives I was directed to Dr Cummings in Denton who heard about my story and took me in as his patient. Both babies were delivered completely naturally 4 days later after I went into labor on my own and labored only 4 short hours from first contraction to delivery of a breech Baby B.

Despite the happy ending I felt robbed in many ways since I never had a chance to enjoy their pregnancy. Every appointment was filled with fear as they developed a two pound weight discordance and then Baby B remained breech for the entire pregnancy and so forth. There was never peace. There was immense joy at the fact there were 2 but that was about the only joyful thing to be had out of the deal. Finally they arrived and commuting husband missed the first two entire years of their lives. We celebrated their second birthday two weeks after we finally moved and were reunited as a family. There's a lot he still regrets about those 2 years...so much he missed in everyone's life, still lots of wondering why we had to endure it all.

So, to me, to be able to have twins again is so much more. It's a chance to do it all over again in peace with a husband present....without the loss of his younger brother still so new and hurting so badly for him, without the loss of his job and no income for 36 weeks of a twin pregnancy and everything else that played so deeply into those years. This is so much more than just being blessed with twins again...with the miracle of two babies at one time, with astoundingly hitting double digits in the number of children we have. It's being so entirely blessed to be able to have the chance to do it over again, the ability to be together as a family during this time that so few people ever experience, the fact that we can be at total peace with where we are and our choices. It's the fact that we have been blessed with a midwife we love and trust and have the ability to do this at home....the dream that has seemed to be ever elusive...my longed for twin home water birth. The ability just to enjoy the pregnancy, babies and the miracle of 2 at one time yet again.

And there's so much healing because I know we are favored and we are some of the chosen ones despite how badly I have fallen and how badly I have messed life up. Many are called but few are chosen. It's an amazing thing to know how you have failed but yet you are continually blessed. The anger, the resentment in which those specific words were spoken concerning a twin pregnancy not even a full 2 months ago are now cause for falling to my knees in complete reverence and humbled gratitude for how much I speak but how little I truly know. How vast is my God. How great is He that I serve. How small I am compared to the vastness of Him and the greatness of His works. It's an amazing thing to live this life we live. My God is for me and it's an amazing thing. I see it in the life I live and in the life of my children. I see it in the fact that He trusts us with 10 children 12 and under. That I did not blow it and though I am so entirely unworthy He sees in me something He can work with. He sees in me David's heart and passion, the uninhibited passion of a heart that yearns so desperately for Him and to know intimately His heart. I see it in the fact that though I have said such nasty and hateful things and directed so much anger towards Him that He continues to bless us. That we do have twins...that I was so unknowingly pregnant with two babies at the very time the tears were falling and the angry words were flowing, that after a long dry period Brad has more work than He can manage for the next few months. And not only are our bills being caught back up but that we are able to again replenish the savings account we, at one point, had. I see it in the fact that He has sent a buyer for the business that would once again pay off all of our entire debt..both personal and business and we would once again be totally debt free in every way. And in the selling of the business He would provide vortexing husband with regular consistent work without carrying the burden and responsibility of a business. That He has provided a way for us to be completely debt free, for him to work from home only feet away from the backdoor and provide yet a consistent 2nd income without any debt eating it up.


And we are blessed. How quickly He can change things. How quickly He can take us from the valley of the shadow of death as we have walked through over this past year into the shade of His presence where we commune and dine together. How He has walked with us through the fire even when we felt so far from Him. We are a living testimony of His grace. I am more aware of that than I have ever in my lifetime been. I know there is so much more to our story than what we have read or what I have written. And there is so much more to our life than we ever imagined. We serve a great and mighty God and though we walk through the fire we will be preserved. And we will be refined throughout it all so that His image may be reflected through us.

I still don't exactly understand a lot of what we have walked through. Knowing statistics well many times I have prayed that I would not have to endure a miscarriage to ever have twins again..knowing a large percent are conceived after a late loss. But yet I did. We lost a baby but miraculously conceived twins after the fact. Many people do conceive twins after a loss but even more do not. So, even among that we are blessed to be amond those that have. I really don't understand, even now, all that took place last summer and why there was no protection. I just don't understand any of it other han to further our walk and take it to depths we would never in our lifetime have known. But I do know despite it all that we are blessed.

I am grateful. I am humbled. I stand embarrassed by my anger and lack of faith...by my impatience with all of life. How much I love life and how deeply I grieve for those that do not see the bigger picture and the deeper meaning of it all. For those that stay dissatisfied with all of life and remain focused on self....the trivial meaningless nothingness that steals their focus and directs it away from the Lord. How they choose to sit and be caught up with the daily mundane things that do not matter in the end. How much more there is. There is a heavy price to pay for passion and abandonment to the Lord but how much sweeter of reward than to obtain the favor of God upon you? I am not forsaken or abandoned. I live with the favor of an almighty God bestowed upon me...despite my failure. How can I gripe...how can I fear...how can I be anything less than grateful for what all I have been given? How could I choose not to see the grace and mercy He has extended to me....how could I be anything less than overwhelmed by gratefulness for what He has done? I stand in awe of His amazing grace.

And so it is that the reality of two babies becomes a little more real as I embrace the gift that they are to us in every way.

Twins!!!!

Alright....now seeing it in picture form maybe I am bigger than what I see in the mirror. I just don't feel very big. It seems to me to just look pretty average with about where I am each pregnancy right around 21 weeks. But....2 babies grow in there!

In all honesty, the sonogram always seemed so far away to me that it was hard to get really excited about it. The first part of last week my anticipation began to grow as I realized how near we were to seeing a healthy growing baby. But as Monday approached nervousness pervaded and my enthusiasm waned more than a little. After lots of traveling over the past week I realized as we laid in bed Sunday night that I had felt no movement for 2 entire days. This is normal for me in every way, probably in part due to the fact I just stay up and moving all throughout the day and never really take time to pay attention to any inner things taking place within. But, as I pushed around and felt nothing Sunday night and then Monday morning dawned bright and early...after a restless sleep....I still could feel nothing. We opted to take all of the children with us so we'd all be there to find out what baby is and to let them see the sonogram. We stayed on time and were out the door by 8 yesterday morning. A quick appt before hitting the road for the sonogram revealed baby had a significant growth spurt between 16 and 21 weeks but nothing really all that questionable. A quick check with the doppler and immediately the thumping heart was comfortingly heard.

The rest of the morning seemed to float by. I was overly content with a heart beat knowing we had nothing to fear on the sonogram machine. The image of a lifeless baby stays with one far longer than I ever imagined possible and, despite my resolve to fight the fear, it still so easily creeps upon me. Having heard baby alive and well the 2 hour drive was spent with children happily conversing in carseats while Brad and I happily talked about everything and nothing.

And I must back up to say that nothing in this pregnancy even remotely pointed to double occupancy going on in there. I didn't even get a positive pregnancy test result until quite late in the game. I have, in the past, always been able to get one fairly early but this pregnancy took a week longer to show up on a test than any other pregnancy has.....my first indication that hormone levels were not all that high in the beginning. At 12 weeks I measured 10.5 cm in fundal height....perfectly normal for a single pregnancy for me. My record is to measure 2 cm behind the entire pregnancy with single babies and right on target with my gestational weeks when I carried Garrison and Grant. At 16 weeks I measured 17 cm but still not enough of an indicator to even hint towards two. It was more than likely a one time event growth spurt. Only one heartbeat and uterine capacity certainly didn't seem overly taxed. And, looking in the mirror, I was just way too small for there to ever be 2 in there. So, fairly early on we ruled out 2 and continued forth with a single pregnancy with definite girl in mind due to the severity of the morning sickness. So convinced were we that it was merely one girl that we had a definite name picked out and had really nothing in the line of thinking for boys!

We finally arrived for the sonogram and all 10 of us plus our midwife got comfy in the tiny little room. The sonographer put the scanner to my stomach and my only thought was that it was looking a little crowded within utero. My intelligent self surmised I must really need to pee worse than I had originally thought. Full bladder equals a rather squished up baby. Attentive husband saw the 2 sets of rib cages immediately but said nothing. I briefly saw 2 round little heads go by and she began scanning quickly to orient herself. I figured it was just the roundness of baby's head and the connected roundness of it's little abdomen. So, I said nothing. She paused and stated...."Well, to begin with, if you didn't already know, you're having twins. There's 2 in here." I am quite convinced the children thought we had just won the baby lottery. We were absolutely all overjoyed. In the mental chaos of it all I only vaguely remembered how just not really exactly even a full 2 or 3 weeks ago...I kind of got rid of every twin thing we owned since I was so fully convinced we'd never have another set.

It was easily seen that both babies are breech and facing my back...the reason I rarely feel any movement. Any movement they make is being directed towards my spine. They are both entirely mild babies based on what was observed yesterday. With heads touching one another they both had both hands up by their faces. At one point we were able to get a half way decent profile look at each of them but they looked a bit like tiny little boxers with both hands covering each of their faces for the majority of the time. Baby B eventually did begin to wake a little as we watched him yawn and finally remove his hands for a brief moment. Baby A proved to be entirely content with not budging at all and never once removed hands to reveal his entire face...though we did get a few profile peeks....in 3D at that!

As thoughts raced through my head trying to really absorb the reality of it all my next questions turned to whether their placentas were fused or if there was any hope they eventually would. Strange but that was huge to me. I really don't want to have to deliver 2 of them. So, somewhere in my head I was hoping for a fused one just to hurry up the delivery process of it all when we get to that point. And indeed both babies have their own sac and it appears the placenta is either one or has fused. Odds are it has already fused since the likelihood of them being identical is almost non existent. I was just happy to see one big fused one. It was a bit funny to me that I didn't even really think of genders or wonder what they might be....so in awe was I over the fact there were 2 in there. Finally my brain got around to that part of it and the search began. But it proved to be a bit more difficult as both babies were quite content in their positions.

Baby B had legs crossed casually and it took a full 30 minutes to finally determine that he is most definitely a boy. Baby A, on the other hand, had his umbilical cord through his legs along with having his legs closed. It took the entire hour of the sonogram to ever see anything on him. Finally with a little pushing and prodding at the very end he did eventually come out of his shell a little and reveal enough to know that he is indeed yet another definite little boy. The boys are crazily excited. It took Evye and Aubrey the afternoon to warm up to the thought of it all but by the end of the day they were just as excited as the boys.

It still has yet to really all sink in. The great name debate has begun. And today I realized for the first time that sweet, feisty little Ivye will be sandwiched quite nicely with 4 boys on top and at least 2 on bottom. I figure she'll either be the toughest girl yet or be the absolute girliest one of the three of them.

So, now the picture progression of an unforeseen twin pregnancy!

21 weeks with twins!

Barefoot and pregnant. Doesn't get much more stereotypical than this!

16 weeks

12 weeks

9 weeks

6 weeks






The top of two perfect little heads! They are currently both breech so we were able to get heads together. Garrison and Grant stayed vertex/breech the entire pregnancy so we never did get their 2 heads together. These boys are now so big that they are unable to both fit in one pic so the best we could do was this shot!

The 1st are Baby B's legs, the 2nd Baby A's legs and the 3rd is B's profile pic. In the 2nd pic you can see A's ribs next to B's legs.
Boys' gender determination pictures. You can't tell much but in the real pics there's little arrows pointing directly to boy parts.

Baby A boy in 1st picture

Baby B boy in 2nd picture

Baby B...he's the only one that would cooperate for a face pic. Baby A proved to be very mild and quite shy when it came to anything we tried to see. His hand remained over his face the entire sonogram and the cord remained between his closed legs for almost the entire hour of the sono!

Sonogram says: It's a.....

Much to our total shock and being so convinced based on morning sickness it is a girl, it is indeed

A BOY





AND

ANOTHER BOY!!!!!!


21 week sonogram revealed yet another set of twin boys!!! They are growing and perfectly healthy in every way.


It's been a long weekend full of busy travel and road trips. I'll update tomorrow with sonogram pictures and some 21 week baby belly pics. We are still stunned, shocked, in disbelief, elated and in total awe over how blessed we are. I am ecstatic!!!!

It's still sinking in that we're about to be parents to a LOT of kids! I think it is quite safe to say we took the express train to double digits.

I Have Decided....

...to follow Jesus.



But, more in line with the context at hand....I have decided that I may think I am in shape and relatively up for whatever task I may be presented but, in reality, I fall more than a bit short and my quads and butt are protesting every single movement made on this hot, humid morning. How is it that it takes no less than 16 weeks to get to a point of running 2 miles for me yet it all dissipates in a mere 2 or 3 weeks?? Feeling quite energized at this point and ready to tackle the projects still at hand my focus landed on my own self...lovely, huh?....and getting into shape to run the marathon of labor and still maintain the goal of the ever elusive 5k. Cause, in all honesty, though I love laboring naturally and despise hospitals and their IV's, catheters, contraction monitors, baby monitors and everything else they tie you to the bed with....labor is just freakin hard and kinda, actually, pretty miserable. It hurts in ways one should never in their life have to experience pain and there is nothing remotely fun about trying to birth a bowling ball. And no matter what resolve I come to in each and every pregnancy I always end up being more vocal than I ever in a lifetime desired to be and feeling like I "failed" labor once again. How in the crap do you fail labor if you freakin pushed a 9 lb baby out...or even a 6 lb one for that matter??? If you got it out wasn't that kind of the whole idea to begin with?? But, never the less, I always do and I always end up apologizing for not being the quiet, soundless, mild one that I start out with every intention of staying throughout labor. I am just not that granola eating, tree hugging, save the whales mom that embraces birth and every aspect of it. I kind of dread it...really dread it...and consider the only fun part about it being the baby at the end. I never have quite understood those women who anticipate the misery of life and wait all 9 months just to labor...and seemingly get high off of the experience. Ummm...so no. That's just not exactly me. Somewhere along the way I missed getting on that boat in life.


But I've done it about every way one can possibly do it. I've done it completely naturally in a hospital, I've done it completely doped up in the hospital, I've been induced twice..misery at it's very finest no doubt and am still not quite sure why anyone in their life ever willingly gives themselves over to that kind of pain, agony and time involved. I've had 2 epidurals and then I've had 2 babies in a birthing center completely naturally and then we've had a completely unassisted birth at home. I've definitely covered the bases where birthing is concerned. And no matter where you are or how you do it, it still just freakin hurts. The epidural is bliss at the moment but the back pain one is left with for weeks on end after that does not even begin to make the few hours of painlessness worth it. I finally came to the very definite decision that I'd rather endure labor than have to deal with a year's worth of massive amounts of back pain due to something being shot up..or rather down.....my spine. Not to mention the catheter that goes along with it and being stuck in the one position that just does nothing but increase 100 fold the chance of a c-section and everything else they do. And then you have the lovely factor that my blood pressure falls off into the nowhere zone each and every time I got one of those lovely 6 inch long needles jammed into my spine. And each and every time it freaks every dr out and they have to prep me for a c-section and the world goes into a frenzy as they lose baby's heartbeat. Slowly it rises back up to where it should've been all along and then they chill out and I progress in a painless labor as an invalid with a suffocating, claustrophobia inducing oxygen mask rubber banded to my face.


And after being threatened with 2 counts of child endangerment after refusing to succumb to a c-section with twins and my overseeing physician terminating my care and promising to see us in court I finally reached my quota of dr's. All of that to say...we left the medical intervention happy world of doctors and began seeking alternatives...ones very near and dear to my heart since I apprenticed as a midwife for 7 years before marrying paramedic husband. After 2 mediocre birthing home experiences doubtful and skeptical husband's heart was turned toward home to the freedom of letting a very natural process be allowed to take place naturally. But in that new found freedom also comes the knowledge that it's you and the pain until a baby finally decides to complete the process.



So, as the 2nd trimester rolled around and energy seemed to return my thoughts began to turn towards what I can do to help my endurance for the task of laboring and birthing a watermelon. Having temporarily left running during the 1st trimester while I focused on just staying away from the trash can for more than 5 minutes at a time I decided this would be the time to resume my routine. That lasted all of 2 days before I had so completely dehydrated myself in the heat and humidity that I was having painful contractions that lasted way too many hours on end. I have intelligently surmised that when I do get ready to finally have a baby that running in heat and humidity is perfectly capable of possibly starting the needed contractions to get it here. But, seeing as how I have an entire 20 weeks to go I figured this would not exactly be the opportune time to try and start labor.



So, in my determined attempt to make labor a happier, more pleasant life experience not to mention the fierceness that resides within to stay in shape and hopefully rediscover the non pregnant body sooner rather than later I decided to create an amiable workout environment. The children and I set to work transforming the 600 sq ft, air conditioned playroom into a home gym on one side and a roll-around-and-be-rowdy space on the other side. This enables the children to be supervised and happy instead of drinking the waffle syrup, finishing off the cold morning coffee remaining in the pot, eating jars of grape jelly by the spoonfuls, devouring entire tubes of my favorite chapstick, sucking down tubes of toothpaste in record times, drinking from the honey jar, dumping 10 lb bags of sugar onto kitchen floors, emptying 5 lb bags of cereal onto the coffee table in their attempts to give Ivye a "snack" and all of the other wonderful things of which young unsupervised children are so entirely capable. This enables me to run like a little caged hamster on the treadmill and become much more regular about the booty bootcamp I now have available on dvd.


What I hadn't exactly anticipated when I awoke this morning were the the muscles that began to scream in protest to the previous day's activities. It was not exactly any secret that my thighs were in danger of igniting and causing spontaneous combustion yesterday as I ran. Neither did it take a college degree to figure out that I have a built in weight vest strapped securely to my body in the form of baby #9 and that my boobs have grown so exponentially that each on it's own offers no less than another 5 lbs worth of resistance to the effort being put forth. Not entirely a bad problem to have until any form of exercise is introduced into the daily routine. Suddenly the smaller boobs of pre pregnancy are seeming much more manageable and desirable. It took all of about 60 seconds to ascertain that the 16 lbs of resistance I now have going will send one into an anaerobic state and leave one feeling mostly dead six times faster than normal. And it quickly occurred to me that running while 20 weeks pregnant is nothing even remotely like running before my current banana sized baby took root and began to grow within.



But I continued on in my devout state. Let no man cease to finish what he began. And I had, in no uncertain terms, undoubtedly began this torture so I would determinedly finish out this agony. But somewhere as children watched Ma Ingalls prance around in her prairie attire and call in her melancholy voice for Charles and I ran in my running shorts and jogging bra gasping wildly for any amount of air I could find that old powerful, invincible feeling that only running brings returned to me. Mind began to separate itself from the misery of body and I could once again fly...even 20 weeks pregnant. I ran for the freedom that it is, for the power that comes with it and the feeling that I can conquer anything on which I set my mind and heart. I ran to achieve what most people aspire to be but never become because fear or lack of determination hinders attaining their goal. And so I run...even 20 weeks pregnant....and I do push-ups and ten thousand squats and endure this self inflicted misery for the prize that awaits at the end. I push through it in an effort to train myself for the task that awaits me in a mere 20 more weeks and so that I may be pleased with my body after it's over once I have a long awaited baby in my arms.

New Found Respect

I have one....a new found respect, that is......for my husband and for all of the firefighters like him that go around wielding and slinging around 1,000 lb 100 ft ladders single handedly. And I'm not exactly speaking of the ones mounted on the back of trucks that are hoisted gracefully upwards by massive hydraulic pumps to death defying, lofty heights reaching heavenward. Though I can say the one Grayson and I fought with did indeed lift us to death defying, lofty, heavenly heights....though at the top they weren't seeming so heavenly as it wobbled and swayed in the tree branches. I do admire the men that climb the 100 ft ladder firefighting husband climbs daily as it wiggles and wobbles and crap in the 30 mile an hour winds that seem to always prevail in this part of Texas. Then those same courageous men proceed to stand on the platform 10 stories off the ground...assuming they made it up there......and aim at something with a nozzle that has some 9,000 gallons of pressure pouring forth from it every second......and then actually try to be any kind of productive and efficient with said nozzle at such heights. Yes, I indeed have great amounts of respect for them. But sticking more to the topic at hand....I have new and great amounts of respect for those of them that can actually carry and manhandle a ladder no less than 50 freakin feet, swinging it around and propping it up on crap and just, in general, proving their manhood in new ways.






This was actually something I have never in my life given any thought to and just considered part of their job. It's what they do....go around carrying larger than life pieces of equipment they might someday need that weigh more than the truck itself...more appropriately......need all of 5 times in their career since legitimate fires seem to come once every 3 years....or 5. The rest of the time they spend running to and from false alarms....at 2am no less. And when toting these ladders around they make it look quite effortless with their muscled up arms and their driver's tans....something it only took about 2 minutes to figure out I do not possess.....both tan and muscles alike.






So we have this swing....this swing that has been broken for no less than a good 4 months. Promises given to fix it but always other things to do taking precedent. Since it hangs in not so neighborly neighbor's yard but actually was indeed hung for our children's benefit by the previous owner it is, a bit, our's. And it is actually quite the miracle that these loving "neighbor's" of our's have not chopped down the tree in its entirety due to the fact it gives life to swings that actually lure children over to it....because, afterall, children must have orginated from hell in their opinion. It is no secret that they actually abhor us living here and think hell itself moved in the day our moving truck showed up. They like their nasty little wienie dog with it's crapped out bad attitude, they like their childless way of life and they love even more being seemingly demonic to little tiny kids. So, when these lovely turdish breed of people come down once or so every month to mow their yard, hunt, maintain their house and fulfill their quota of nastiness for the month we go through this whole scenario of having to deal with them and keep the children corralled off of our shared driveway...and pretend in some form that we do not have nearly as many children as we really do. Dogs bark and chase cats, roosters crow on the property boundary, hens cluck and lay eggs in places they shouldn't, children romp and run and laugh way too loud all while childless neighbors grow more and more appalled and stare with disdain at our lifestyle. I am quite convinced it is a bit like the Griswold's living life year round with the neighbors....and we're the Griswold's.





So it is quite obvious that every month that this swing is not fixed it irks them a bit more each time as they chunk it up into the high branches above and gleefully tangle it all up as they mow under it...despite the fact that Grayson mows under it regularly. So, as the entire family has focused our efforts on moving the business home these past two weeks it involved hard and heavy physical labor on everyone's part as we cleaned all of the carports, the shop, the attic and the playroom....in 100 degree west Texas desert heat. And so it is that each of us has lifted, moved continually from sun up to sun down and sweated as we have worked our way through each day. I lifted and moved tractor tires.....stacking them neatly, I might add, moved furniture, moved massive pieces of Vortex equipment, spent hours of bending, stooping and standing back up with larger than life scraped up pieces of 100 lb Vortex, piling and stuffing them into barrels and then rolling those same barrels...now weighing no less than 500 lbs......and lifting them up and over dumpster rim to dump. I've helped hard working husband move massive metal shop cabinets, tossed 2x4's from one end of the carport to the other, entirely relocated our spare wood pile...the one with enough spare wood that we could quite assuredly build a 2,000 sq ft guest house....or just have a massive bonfire in which, once lit, it would proceed to burn for an entire 7 months if not longer. I've spent an entire hour picking up and relocating the spare metal pile consisting of posts and poles and beams and things, moved refrigerators and freezers and about every other thing you can possibly think of.





In our cleanup endeavors and my hours upon hours of days spent outside in the sweltering sun of the Texas summer the broken swing in the rarely ever there neighbor's yard began to get on my nerves. Something about being hot and productive and having to look at crap that's still not fixed that just begins to hit one the wrong way. And the more I looked at it the more irritated about it I grew. So, with exhausted husband sleeping one afternoon I rounded up Grayson and the 2 of us set off to right the swing and link the broken chain back together. And, do I even have to say, the break in the chain was located high up in 30 ft treetop where chain meets branch? It would've just been way too easy otherwise. The high break seemed easy enough...this same massive ladder I had just moved and placed into its new spot, neatly up against the wall with the other 15 ladders we have going would no doubt do the job quite well. With Grayson and I on opposite ends we cheerfully hoisted it up and easily carried it to its destination...laughing and chatting as we went...blissfully ignorant of what exactly lay before us.





It didn't take me long to figure out that this 90 ft ladder or so has these little claw feet that dig irritatingly into the ground for no apparent reason other than to just make the job at hand even more difficult than it was to begin with. So, we prop it up like the experts we are...without raising it beforehand I might add....and then try to move it into place. It is safe to say that claw feet proved to be a bit of a hindrance in this endeavor. So, we lay it back down and scoot it into what we now think is more of an appropriate position....and then lift. Still cheerful at this point as we troubleshoot our way through it all. With it kind of close enough....and let it be known that when dealing with death defying heights "kind of close enough" should never be part of your conversation. It either is close enough or it isn't. There is no "kind of" to the scenario. So, once propped up at only about 1/3 of the height it needed to be and 5 feet away from its designated target spot it took us all of about 3 minutes to figure out we had no way of actually raising the ladder to the necessary treetop heights. In my ingenuity, I decide it has to be raised to the appropriate height before ever lifting it into position. Once again we lower it to the ground.......and then proceed with it in a horizontal position to raise it to it's fullest extended height....and then try to lift it in the general direction of the treetop. Our efforts at this point turned into a bit of a downward spiral...and I had every hope that ladder hoisting husband would not walk out at the moment......or in the next 30 minutes that followed, for that matter.





With it swinging around at treetop worthy heights....no less than 75 feet, I'm thinking......we raise it....or more aptly put....we attempted to raise it as it proceeded to hit every branch the tree has ever grown or thought about growing. It did manage to get about 3/4 of the way to it's destination before it came crashing back down on us. It was a bit top heavy...in addition to the tree branches not entirely aiding our cause. Since I happened to be on the end intended to go up I happened to be the one trying to catch it as it came down. Yep....so that didn't go so well. I was quite convinced I'd managed to take baby out with that one and had to go in and listen for a heartbeat to assure myself I had not just done fatal damage to the unborn that lay innocently within and completely at the mercy of my unyielding determination to the get the job done. At this point I am quite sure that any normal person would've been wise and just given up but by this time I had a battle to win and a point to make to myself. I could do this. I freakin would do this. It is quite safe to say the ladder was winning but no one in their right mind can just walk away in defeat....so I set out even more determinedly to wage war with the treetop, the swing and the ladder that was apparently out to murder everyone in it's path. My shoulder still sports a black and blue bruise from where it came crashing down on me before ricocheting off and bouncing off the protruding stomach before seeing fit to land with a heavy thud onto my big toe. With no other solution..besides waking sleeping husband..which I absolutely refused to do since it was my battle at this point....we extended it once again, since it'd lost a few notches of height in the fall.....and once again lifted it back up into the air. We did manage to get it up there this time around but it was only about 5 feet away from where the broken chain sat. I proposed the idea to Grayson that he just climb it and then crawl down the branch and straddle it as he fixed the chain that would then be below him. Since it didn't seem anyone could survive a fall from that height I quickly surmised that probably wasn't our best option. The only solution was to dig the claw feet out of the ground....again......and move it...fully extended if at all possible. Trying to manhandle a ladder about 8 times one's height with it standing fully erected into position proved to be quite a feat....a feat that wasn't quite won and once more it came crashing down. That time I just ran out from under it and let it fall. Lesson learned on that end the first time. The good news is that any ladder that height takes a long time to ever hit the ground so I had plenty of time to move out of it's path. I was quite sure by this point that tool loving husband wouldn't be quite so appreciative of the mistreatment of his equipment that was taking place outside. All the more reason for him to remain blissfully unaware...and just awake to a gloriously repaired swing swaying gracefully in the wind. Given the 4 months it had gone unfixed I pretty much knew he could care less about it.....but I cared and I would revel in seeing a fixed swing, so we carried on...convincing myself that this really mattered to him.



Eventually we did get it up there in the right spot after fighting with it way too many minutes. Grayson climbed it and zippy tied the chain back together since that was the only fix I could come up with. It would take a trip to the hardware store to buy the right device to link it all back together so my sudden urge of repairman spontaneity called for zippy ties. I am quite convinced these things are to women what duct tape is to men. Life would not be the same without them. They will zippy any broken thing back together and fix most all of life. So far I have managed to zippy tie a cabinet door back on, rig an entire farm gate with chicken wire using nothing but these amazing little novelties, rig a dress back together that was missing a button and needed a quick fix, hang keys, hang ornaments, hang heat lamps, secure wound up rolls of fencing, wrap and secure bundles of wood together and all sorts of other things I can't exactly think of at the current moment. Though I will say I have been known to duct tape a dress hem back in place on more than one occasion when the girls go ripping their's out...which they seem to be quite adept at doing. It was neon orange duct tape at that. It's all we had on hand...but it worked.


So, Grayson zipped about 8 of the multifunctional zippy ties on there for good measure. My motto is if 2 is good 15 ought to be entirely better. He climbed back down from his perch high above the ground and we stood in awe and surveyed our accomplishment....that had now taken no less than 45 minutes to attain. To be on the safe side he, of course, was urged to give it a test try to make sure it was safe for the little ones to use. He got about 3 swings into it before getting a little too confident and bouncing on it, saying we had indeed succeeded. On the 2nd bounce it all came down. I can honestly say that had I known it was gonna fall I might would've been ok with not test proofing it. At least it HAD BEEN off the ground and at least it had looked good. Did I mention that we'd taken the ladder down....so confident were we in our success??? Another 3 rounds of fighting with the ladder and another 2 times of having it come right back down on top of us. Eventually we got it back up there and this time I just climbed the thing. And I must say, when you're up there blowing around in the wind it's just never a good thing. One is not really meant to defy gravity to such extents....especially when 19 weeks pregnant and weighing a bit more than usual. All the more to thud with when you hit the ground. Once I quickly figured out I had no inclination to even lean over to zip the things on there I clamoured back down and Grayson resumed his perch once again to go through the routine all over again. This time he was given instructions to zippy about 20 of them on there...in which it didn't take long to learn that only about 12 would fit through the link. Needless to say....we didn't give that one a test try once it was rigged back up there. The insane part???? Now we get to do it all over again since I, like any good handyman, picked up the right piece to link it back up properly.



After hearing stories of our escapade from little tiny tale bearers, ladder swinging husband has recommended I sit this round out and let he and Grayson do the linking back together this time around. I figure if it goes longer than 4 or 5 days without being fixed Grayson and I will be back at it again. Maybe if I get out there with them I'll be given some much needed ladder instruction. Until then....my ladder abilities fall entirely short of passing any physical agility test. And I don't really savor the day we go digging it back out.


And, on a side note, I am quite convinced this was about the most meaningless post ever...except to admit that I hate ladders...really just hate them....about like I hate making bread and cooking.....and I stand in absolute awe of those that deal daily with their murderous ways. On to more meaningul, life changing events.