my super suit

Above: a picture of the original superman suit, as displayed in his hometown of Metropolis, IL.

Below: yes, it's true, a real super suit, with the original superman S handmade by my grandma. the cape is even extendable for when I get even bigger and have photo ops for pres. I know it's real because it even came with Kryptonite.

Thanks boom boom!

Time and Leather

Mum looked down today at the belt she was wearing. She bought the belt in college. It's brown, thick leather. The buckle had a silver plating of sorts on it at one point, but now the base metal is showing through. We're not sure how old the cow was, but we know the belt is at least seven years old. Oh, yep, and it was on the clearance rack so I guess it could be more like eight years old.

Time.

The buckle has been drifting down the belt over the years. This isn't a bad thing she tells me. Women get hips. A young woman becomes a mother. Time is 'a marching. As mom noticed the dark indents by the three previous holes, she thought back through time.

What a great illustration of time.

Graduation. Marriage. Move. Move. One kid. Move. Two kid.

(Dad calls us "thing 1" and "thing 2" when he wants to get mom laughing).

Now Move again.

In the ballpark of the next half of the year, we'll add another "Move" to the belt o' time.
It's a wild thing to contemplate the next big change in our lives. It's a big version of trying dad's "banging tuna-noodle casserole"- there's a new version of it each time and the nutritional content is vague.

Back to the belt:

So thanks to the cow who gave the hide that's lasted so long being worn almost every day and thanks in a much greater way to the God who sustains us. And may you, when you see how time has passed, take rest in God's genuine past, present, and future provision.

Vienna

If you want to see some rocking cute pictures of my cousin Vienna in the snow, click HERE.

The Measure of a Man

This coat rack. . .

This remote-controlled boat. . .

This genuine Steve Irwin Crocodile Hunter Plush Crocodile. . .

and yours truly. . .





are all 36 fabulous inches long.

Cupid Cuties

Last year Mom dressed me as cupid. But this year she had a new victim, oh, I mean cupid. In fact, she also decided to attempt to make a sculpture of cupid out of Rice Krispie treats. She couldn't pull off the arms and the whole thing was rather freaky. We've eaten most of him already.


this one is me last year.


here's cupid's tush

and this year's cover cupid- oh yeah baby Clay!

FREE DESKTOP BACKGROUND! Just click on this picture, it will become big on your screen, then right click and select it to be your desktop background. Come on, where else can you get a background like this!

Last week we moved a television back into our home just for the superbowl and it has not been removed yet. (We're still TV free and LOVING it). It is sitting on the Otto's side of the apartment.

I just put Sim to bed. I said he should go kiss Aimee and baby Clay good night. (Stephen is at the church tonight).
He kissed Aimee, Clay, and then the TV.
He waved to Aimee, Clay, and then the TV.

oh my.

-abby

Caught off guard

Being caught off guard is not always a bad thing.
Yesterday evening I was picking up clothes off the bathroom floor when I noticed these footprints on the rug.
I was caught off guard by the lovely little prints of Sim's feet.
I'm in wonder at the gifts of God.
What an honor it is to mother his boys.

For years now I have struggled with certain aspects of mothering. I enjoy being a mother immensely, but I was/am having trouble embracing all the areas of my life and my will that have been altered. Believe it or not, all women don't dream all childhood about having babies and making pies all day : ) About two months before Clay was born, I asked God to change me and teach me in this area. Like the patient teacher that He is, He is bringing me around.

I've been going to a group for mothers. It is a group of about eighty women (it's huge!) that meet bi-weekly. We have a meeting while our children go to childcare. I mention the meeting because it has been making me more aware of something that is missing in our culture. I know it is missing because I just found it. What is missing is mothering pride. I laughed rather hard when I told Stephen that the meeting starts with women announcing birthdays, then pregnancies and adoptions. Then we have a lecturer that strictly relates to mothering, then discussion, sometimes prayer. . . In fact, I feel like I'm stepping into the 1950s at times. Bring your baked goods girls.

I used to think these types of gatherings were ridiculous. But now, I am finding that it meets a need in me. The need is pride in being a mother. I have been taking the responsibility seriously, but not enjoying the responsibility.

So perhaps you know a lonely mother or two (we're all over the place) that you could encourage. Our current culture can be a sad place for a momma. To the young mommas that read this, ( I think of Kelly, Ally, Jordan, Holly, Dee Dee, Aleen, Heather, Carol & Cindy) I hope that you have mothering pride, and if not yet, that you get that fix soon.

Happy Way-Before Mothers Day.
Love,
abby

Then maidens will dance and be glad, young men and old as well. I will turn their mourning into gladness; I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow.
Jeremiah 31:13

34 Registers

The grocery store Stephen and I worked at when we were first married had seven (I think) registers. We averaged three open at one time.
This Market Basket has 34 (yes, I said 34) registers. Clay and I stopped to take this picture for those of you whom are ruralites or suburbanites who quake at the thought of this large of a store.

Yes, they run all the registers at the same time on the weekends. And yep, each register gets its own bagger. And even more yep: there are still lines.

This urban shopping experience is downright stressful. We have become expert shoppers, able to dodge the elderly, spare the young children on foot, heed the young in our own carts, maneuver around the glass bottle displays, turn the cart on a dime, avoid unneeded isles, spare the deli-line at all costs, prepare diagrammed shopping lists that caters to the store's layout, and even check ingredients in the mayhem.

On a humorous note: Sim decided to explore the anatomy of a chicken's eggs this week while we were in a grocery store. In a matter of seconds, there were literally eggs in my cart, eggs on the floor, eggs in the diaper bag, and two eggs that Sim could reach- which he instantaneously smashed his hand into. I had Clay wrapped on my front (Sim was in the cart's seat) and I am grateful for the kind Greek woman that helped me. Wipes came in handy for than just dipes.

She said (in a deep Greek accent) "You have boys! NICE boys! Congratulations!." She just may have pinched a cheek or two.

-abby

Pablo Picasso and my Mother

Above: Pablo Picasso's Mother and Child and Four Sketches of the Right Hand (This is hanging in one of the birth center's rooms).





Clay is looking rather elf-ish (Lord of the Rings quality) in the above shot.


Do you have a good caption for this last one? (Notice that both mouths are open).