Honestly, my mood yesterday precluded *happy* halloweening, thus the double question marks in the title.  I wasn't in a festive spirit.  We carved zero pumpkins.  Put up no decorations this month.  All energy has been consumed in doing what seems like a very crummy job of mothering three humans.  My boys are having adjustment issues I never anticipated...and my parenting efforts feel mediocre at best.  But that's a whole other post {or book?}.  How I Ruined my 4-Year-Old's Life with an Absurd Level of Impatience. 

BUT this too shall pass

SO, on to the good stuff...Cyndee & Megan hosted the Halloween festivities for all of the Hendrix cousins.  The whole dinner spread was quite lovely, but I particularly liked that Cyn hallowed out some pumpkins to house the salsa and dips. 

I knew I'd be having a baby sometime in October, so I asked my boys in early September to make their Halloween decisions.  Davyn's was easy. 

"I want to be a fire fighter for Halloween.  And for real life." 

We've known this intended career path for a good six months now.  And have learned to work it in our favors.  When he doesn't want to take something upstairs, professing that he's tired...I shake my head solemnly with a "that's too bad.  Fire fighters have to be really good at carrying heavy things up stairs."  When he'd rather watch tv than run around outside with A.  "Oh man...firefighters have to be able to run so fast." 

Yes, I should write a book on manipulative parenting. 

{And a sequel in 20 years about all of the negative side-effects. What I Didn't Know Then.}

Aidan's Halloween decision is more of a sad story.  Reminder:  the boy is 6.  His pragmatism makes me worry that he's losing his sense of wonder.  of magic.  of excitement.

I was fairly amused last month when I asked about costumes.  His response:  "I don't see why we need to buy anything new.  I'll just be batman because I have a batman suit already and I never wore it for any Halloween before."  No smiles.  No life.  All blandness in his tone. 

And then it got worse on Monday.  At Family Home Evening we were discussing plans for the upcoming week.  I mentioned the trunk-or-treat activity on Friday.  His response: "Let's not go to that.  It's not like we need more candy.  We always get way too much."  But don't you want to just go to have fun?  His response: shoulder shrug. 

Halloween malaise is notthe worst ailment in the world.  In fact, if one holiday had to be dropped, it would be right up there after St. Patrick's day (pinching??) on my list.   Still.  I don't want Aidan to be a grumpy old man. 

At six.

But all I have to do to allay that worry is see him running around with his cousins.  They play & play & play.  And he easily loses himself in that play.  Perfectly six. 

Cousin time has been less frequent lately, but it's something my boys relish.  One of the hardest events of my 2009 had to be when Mandi & her family moved away from the neighborhood.  We used to see them as part of our daily life.  Now it is much more rare.

Here are the cute Waller girlies in their Halloween costumes:

And one of the best events of my 2009 has been my sister Megan moving to the valley.  Renewing our acquaintance with these cousins has been a joy. 

Here are the cute Chambers boys in their Halloween costumes:

All month I've been saying..."next year I'll decorate".."next year we'll carve pumpkins".."next year I'll add homemade flair to their costumes."

But now I realize that "next year" I'll have a one-year-old. And a hundred more false starts to add to my parenting annals..after 365 more days of Up & Down. 

Megan and Cyndee both dressed up for the trick or treating last night.  One, a spooky witch.  One, a nice witch.  I know both ends of that spectrum quite well.  So perhaps the truth of "next year" will merely see me openly embracing my inner witch.  I haven't worn a costume on the outisde in years.  You'll just have to wait to see if I'm green or glittery.

Yesterday Dad took you for a few hours while I played catch-up on real life.  And when I finally came upstairs it was with exceptionally eager hands.  Because I missed you.  Which is crazy when you consider the hours we spend heart-to-heart each day.  The umbilical cord was cut weeks ago, but an intangible pull still links us undeniably. 

What Dad considers crazy is my sudden supersonic hearing.  Me, the girl who continually cranes her head with "what?"s and has to beg for tv volume to be upped at movie time.  Yes, that girl hears your slightest movement, whimper, yawn.  And jumps.  Because she is indeed in Love. 

But I'm not the only one...

Dad has succumbed, as well. His daughter angst has disappeared and you've taken over the perch on his chest.  The one that belonged to Davyn before you.  And to Aidan before him.  I won't say the "wrapped around his finger" bit because that prognostication drove him dizzy before you were born.  He's not a man to suffer manipulation.  So we'll have to be sly in how we sneak into and continually soften his Huge Heart. 

Davyn never needed softening...the boy is all mush.  I laughed the other day thinking about what kind of girl you'll turn out to be with a brother who daily whispers in one ear, "you are so beautiful, Azure".  And those aren't the only words he speaks on repeat.  On the first day you met, he proclaimed, "Your name is Azure.  I am your brother Davyn.  You have another brother Aidan.  Your dad is Jim. And your mom is Amy."  And the mantra has since been chanted daily.  He will make sure you know who you are, my lucky girl. 

And Aidan will make sure you know how to play football.  He had the gentlest sort of practice going with you a few days back.  He is completely enamored, but gives you space. Shyly hanging out on the sidelines, gradually making overtures, assuring that you're content before he moves in.  When he finally does reach out, he is profoundly tender, a rare description for your fiery oldest brother. 

I'm sitting downstairs at the computer.  It's 10:33 pm and the house is still.  I should be snoring away in my bed because I know you'll be up soon..administering my next hearing test. Which I'll pass with super ears and once-again-Eager arms.

Because Love is indeed the exception maker. 

A babe invested with mystical, magical sleeping charm powers.  [Did I really get her eyes open long enough to snap this pic??]  I could hardly be near the child without falling prey to her sleepiness myself.  Thus, our feeding sessions were doomed to failure.  And she went from 8 lbs even to 6 lbs. 14 oz. within one week.  She simply wasn't interested....or was simply more interested in shut-eye-let's-pretend-I-was-never-torn-from-your-cozy-{bulky?}-uterus. 

This:  my hungry, wide-eyed 2-week-old.

Ever-more alert.  Demanding.  Growing.  Which interrupts the sleepy haze, of course, but also puts a blessed end to bi-weekly weight checks at the doctor's office (during flu season?!).  I'll take the tri-nightly feedings in exchange.

And gladly.

I visited yesterday at the hospital for a few minutes, and snapped a few photos of the beautiful babe while Grandma Cyndee held her.  And let me tell you, pictures do not do this tiny dumpling justice.  She is tiny and lovely and perfect as only newborn babies can be.   And I apologize, I can't get that last image to resize -- you'll have to use your imagination.

Born October 5, 2009, at 7:49 a.m.

8 lbs.

20.5 inches long

Amy & Azure are both doing well.  This is Kelly (at Amy's request) posting.  Amy said today, "I just keep being surprised that after every test, she is perfect in every way." 

Perfect, indeed.

Now who wants to see some pictures?  I thought so! (Thanks to Jim for taking the time to email them.)

important on Aidan's list : Outside Play.

important on my list: Inside Chores.

She passed on both accounts.  Just not *quite* sure I can produce a girl as cooperative as my sister's.  Mandi is a much nicer human than I am.

The junk room became the office.

The office became Davyn's room. 

Aidan gained his own room.

And the playroom became a nursery. 

Ta-da! It sounds so simple written out in black & white Garamond 12 point font. 

Not so.

Because then I got tired.  About a month ago.  The spirit was still willing, but my stamina so suddenly non-existent.  So lots of folk have helped me get things in enough order for the big birth day (see picture overload below for a big peek at baby girl's ready room).

Speaking of that *birth* day, things haven't gone according to plan.  My girl decided to nestle up (firm & permanent) in my ribs.  So here we are at 38 weeks and she's still breech.  Despite a hospital procedure and various home remedies.  The only plus is that we now have an exact date & time, knowing that she will be in our arms Monday morning (oh so early!).

It has been somewhat of a curve ball.  I was telling Jim that I've pored over pregnancy and birth books each time I'm coming up on delivery, but I've never paused for even a second on the cesarean sections.  So here I am now, finally reading up on something I never before considered.

Slowly adjusting.

Shifting expectations.

The other mental adjustment was when I heard yesterday that children under 13 (siblings included!) are not allowed to visit patients in the hospital right now due to flu concerns.  That broke my heart.  Because my boys are older now & aware now & anxious Now.  And I so want to introduce them to their sister.  And I so don't want to miss seeing them for three whole days. 

Of course, I realize that all of these concerns will fade quickly.  Once we're all back..home..together.  We (all 5!) will be nestling in for a long while. 

So knock loudly if you plan to visit.

The doorbell doesn't work (thank heavens!). 

And I'm sure we'll be more than a little self-absorbed.  At my house.

Yet.  Birthing fear is at long last superceded by fear of being pregnant forever.  Because I'm at that one-month-left spot where night sleep is elusive, day energy nonexistent, and body comfort impossible.  And laundry must still be done.  Somehow.   

But enough complaining.  I do also realize the enormous gift I'm being granted - a little life put under my protection.  Another tiny human who will no doubt refine my rough.  And soften all of our hearts.  At once.

Lately I spend a lot of time wondering about her personality.  Jim said something about her playing sports and I was shocked to realize that I had never considered that a girl of *mine* may actually have athletic inclinations.  He was sure:  "of course she will"...while I had only imagined raising a little bookworm mini-me.  It was a sort of revelation (obvious though it seems)...she may not get my intensity or booklove or round nose.  She may not be like me at all.  The possibilities are infinite.

And perhaps Jim's right about her athleticism.  She will have two sports-crazed brothers.  And she's already a major mover.  My head hits the pillow and that's when all four of her tiny limbs are set to motion.  Last night I laid in bed watching the strange dance of my tight belly.  For nearly 15 minutes it stretched and contorted at her whim.  I clapped, then talked her into sleep. 

It won't be long until my uterus will be freed of its tiny master, and the four of us entire will take over the dance to her demands.  As anxious as I am to meet her, I'm equally anxious to watch her win the hearts of the men of my house.  She will be an extraordinarily lucky girl surrounded by those three.

In that regard, just like me. 

bird houses: $10 / bird: $.20 / paper: <$2 / flowers: $2 / paint:free

While my Melissa friend {very kindly!} sewed the edges on some extra-large receiving blankets (ones that can actually wrap up a human-sized baby).

Baby Girl's room is on its way...

That's how I feel about T's growing up in general though.  When I met Jim, this youngest brother was 8.  When we married, he was 12.  Sometimes obnoxious.  And always loud.  I obviously didn't have much experience with boys at the time.  But still knew that {obviously} if I ever had any of my own, they'd be quiet, clean and infinitely more polite.  Aidan soon came along to prove that theory wrong.  And of course T has grown up, matured over the seven years of our marriage.  But it truly did happen stealthily. 

Because suddenly he was at the pulpit speaking two weeks ago, and I was shocked.  There was no sign of the T {perma-stuck at age 13 perhaps?} who lives in my head.  A confident, compelling man stood in his place.  Bearing a strong testimony of Prayer...and of the power the Gospel of Jesus Christ has to change lives. 

It was humbling really.  To be smacked in the face with the fact that I had missed the process...the "Becoming" of this {suddenly} man who I know will be an incredible missionary. 

It was similarly humbling to realize that my own little men are well into this "Becoming" themselves.  And that T's mission will have an enormous impact on their young lives. 

It's an impact that's already in motion.  The airport scene at 7 am Wednesday morning was nearly too much to bear.  On the ride to the airport, reality clicked for Aidan.  As he realized that T is going to be completely gone for two years.  We've talked about it, of course, but the words meant nothing until that moment of sudden clarity.  So when we finally got to the airport, I watched A's face working hard to control the emotions that threatened to take over.  Everyone gave their final hugs, but he wouldn't come forward.  Until T said, "Come give me a hug, Aidan."  Then he flew forward and the floodgates opened.  The boy was bawling. Completely overwrought. 

And in the car on the way home he said, "I don't know if T knows he's my favorite person."  That night, Davyn prayed that "T will come home safely next week."  We've amended the time frame over the past few days of prayer, but there's something to what D said really.  I'm sure T's mission will become his home.  It may take a week, but he has slipped so well into the calling that *home* won't be too far from the truth. 

On Tuesday night before being set apart, he said:  "I just feel calm.  And at peace."  There was no scurried frenzy. No worries about anything left undone.  No sigh at "having to follow the rules" now.   Just calm acceptance that he's stepping into something new and there's no room to drag the old along. 

Mike & Kay's house will definitely be quieter over the next two years.  I'll have to send my own boys over more often to fill the sound void.  Because they do seem to be gaining volume with the years, following in T's steps, no doubt.  Which is Perfectly fine by me.