More Eve Pics

What's in a Name?

I mentioned to several of my friends before the birth of our second born that Dan and I felt that her name was chosen for us more than us choosing the name. May I share?

On one of our trips to Evanston to see the fertility doctor, Dan and I thought it would be clever to name our child Evan or Eve, since s/he was conceived there. The idea wasn't given much more thought after that. 

Later, my husband made a profound observation. He noted that our daughter Morgan's name in German means "morning" (different spelling). And the name "Eve" is a shortened version of "evening". "See, Em? We had a beautiful morning, a rough day of infertility and then evening came." 

When we found out that we were indeed having a girl, I looked up the meaning of "Eve". It meant "life". It also was a slap in the face of infertility because "Eve" is the first mother in the Bible. 

When we discovered that our little one was due around Christmas, we laughed at the thought of calling her Christmas Eve. Totally unintentional.

Finally, when my sister announced the birth of her daughter this fall, it was eerily providential. Her daughter's name is Giselle Eve. My sister and I have undergone infertility together. It was only fitting that we should like the same name.

Eve's middle name, Lorraine, is my middle name and also that of my mother and grandmother. 

Out of the Mouth...

E (Morgan's 6yr old friend): "Morgan, did you like the book I gave you for Christmas?"

Morgan: "Yes! You have the same one! Now we both have the same book so you don't have to brag anymore."

E: "Yep! That's right."

(Glad that E wasn't offended by Morgan's remark.)

______________________________

E: "Next year you'll be in kindergarten."

Morgan: "Will you be in kindergarten with me?"

E: "No, I'm already in kindergarten. I'll be in first grade."

Morgan: "Then second grade, third grade and fourth grade..."

E: "And then we'll go to college. Then high school."

Morgan: "Yep."

E: "And then we can get married. You have to be a teenager to be married."

_______________________________

Dan: "Good morning, Morgan. What are you doing up?"

Morgan: "I heard the baby crying. Sleep is not an option."

Haha... Got that right, girl!

Days of Grace

Life is much more simple now, but no less rich.

As I look Eve sleeping, I think of how powerless she is to feed and live and keep clean without her parents. Love keeps her alive.

And then I see that I am the same in God's eyes: powerless, yet made in His lovely image. Love keeps me alive.

That is grace.


Psalm 103:13-14
As a father has compassion on his children,
so the LORD has compassion on those who fear him;
for he knows how we are formed,
he remembers that we are dust.

More Eve Photos

New Arrival

The Dykstras announce the arrival of
Eve Lorraine Dykstra
December 19,2008
6:36pm
8 pounds, 10 ounces
22 inches

Preparing Her Room

This is the room formerly called the "Hope" room, but now it will be _____'s nursery. This is the recliner we bought with her in mind, for lots of cuddling and late night "talks". The window treatments were fun to make. The Roman shade took some doing, but I love the combination of fabrics. It's a room meant to celebrate life.

A closer look at the curtain pattern.

Here is a photo which I ripped out of a magazine and kept in the crib. It beautifully represents our hearts... "Anticipation".

I didn't want to go overboard with our SIX different fabrics (too late?) so I kept one wall rather bare and just put a splash of orange on it and covered a canvas with one of the fabrics. I also made the bedskirt. Perhaps this seems like a little much, but I used my sewing time to bond with the idea that I was indeed preparing for our little one. I needed a lot of bonding time apparently. haha

An Emily Dickinson poem about hope. 

I made these 3 birdie pics out of fabric and felt. The theme for the room is hope and birds.

Here is the dresser/changing table that Dan refinished. Isn't he great?

We are ready to meet you, Little One!

'Twas the Day Before

'Twas the day before birthing

and all through our home

There was much, much, much waiting

For baby to come

The emotions were bouncing

From tired to mad

Nothing made sense

To poor husband Dan

And the 5 year old daughter

We thought we knew well

Had reverting behavior

What tales we could tell!

The last of the onesies

Were washed well with care

As we considered the one 

who would put these to wear.

So we putz and we pitter

We hardly are bored

We pretend to be busy

Before our family is four.

Inconvenient

Initially this week felt as long as a football field and I was wondering how I'd maintain my sanity. However, thanks to le furnace trouble (that's french for "the furnace that gave me what for"), I'm already at Wednesday and hoping, anticipating and begging God for some delivery action at week's end. 

I have had some more ponderings lately. They're not so much the meek Mary ponderings as I had hoped, but still...

Because of our furnace trouble the past week, Morgan and I have often had to hightail it out of our abode to make room for contractors. Yesterday we pulled a 9 to 5 so that the contractors could put in our new furnace. I was told it would take 6-8 hours. It took 12, but that's okay because this morning we had heat. Wonderful, wonderful heat.

In an effort to stay warm yesterday, I spent the morning doing errands and crashing in random coffee places while Morgan went to preschool. Then we squatted at a friend's house for the remainder of the afternoon until dinnertime. 

If there's anything I learned yesterday, it's this: Very pregnant women should not be nomadic. They should spend their last days of swollen-footed bliss on a couch watching reruns and milking the heck out of their girthly situation. They should not be waddling anywhere. Except to the bathroom. 

But yesterday's excursions were necessary, I understood that. And I was thankful for the kind vendors and friend who took me in. 

On my slushy and slow way home through the snow I was thinking to myself that very thought: very pregnant women should not be wandering anywhere. Not the city. Or the malls. Or the countryside. And certainly not *gasp* over the ground of Bethlehem because some *crazy* dude MUST take a census RIGHT NOW. 

Hmmm.

My understanding is that Mary and Joseph had roughly a 5 day excursion to Bethlehem. And while their mode of transportation is not known, I'm sure that it wasn't a pleasant experience. At times I'm tempted to ask God if He provided well for His Son to be born.

A last minute census. 

A funny marital engagement. 

Very odd, even shady, visitors popping up uninvited. 

It's not very "Almighty" feeling... less than ordinary. It seems inconvenient and not well thought out. 

I was humbled last night as I thought about that bothersome census. It quieted my complaining thoughts about the troublesome furnace and the blustery weather. But even more than that, I was thankful that God Almighty wanted to show His people that Jesus was made like us in every way: including the inconveniences of life.

Furnace Fun

Saturday:

Emily: "Dan, our furnace smells like gas an awful lot."

Dan: "Hmmm... Call the Climate Pro guys."

___________________________

Sunday: 

Emily: "Dan, the furnace is running awfully hard today. It's 45 degrees outside. Shouldn't be running that hard."

Dan: "Hmmm... hadn't noticed. Call the Climate Pro guys tomorrow."

____________________________

Monday:

Emily: "Um, it's 62 degrees in our house this morning."

Dan: "That's pretty chilly."

Emily: "It's supposed to be 71."

Dan: "Call the Climate Pro guys today."

Ordered new furnace.

_____________________________

Tuesday:

(After sleeping with heater in our room and having Morgan sleep with us under the guise of "sleepover" so she wouldn't freeze.)

Dan goes out of our heated room into the hall. He stops.

Emily: "How cold is it?"

Dan: Laughing... "It's like our garage."

Emily thinking... "It couldn't be that bad."

Fifty-two degrees.

Thank you, God, for the new furnace coming today. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Monday Prayer

Dear God,

This day feels too big for the 24 hours allotted to it. I need your strength today. 

Please protect Dan on the icy roads today. And all our Chicagoland friends as well. 

Please provide the new furnace we need quickly. Allow the serviceman to be available as well as the materials. 

And thank you for reminding me that even your own Son was birthed during a crazy time of year and it turned out all right.

Amen.

Weeping May Remain for a Night, but Joy...

I mentioned in an earlier post that my moods change a lot lately. But one thing that hasn't changed much is that I'm having a hard time wanting to read my Bible. I'm really unsure as to why this is, but the other day when I did actually take the opportunity to read, something bizarre happened. 

I was reading in Luke 1 about the coming births of Jesus and John. An angel is telling Mary about her conception and about her relative Elizabeth's conception as well. He explains to Mary: "For this is now the sixth month  for her who was called barren." I smiled at that part.

But then I read the next line: "For with God nothing will be impossible." (Luke 1:37)

I could never have predicted what happened next. With no warning whatsoever, I wept big, fat donkey tears. I didn't so much cry as guffaw. And the tears came uncontrollably. Try as I might, I couldn't stop the flow for many minutes. 

This is exactly how I cried:

In retrospect, the crying was pretty funny. 

It was also touching. Humbling. Prayerful. 

All these years I knew that mourning could bruise a heart, but I never knew that joy could pierce even more deeply.

The baby kicked vigorously inside me as I wept. I realized in that one moment that my lack of words was probably the deepest worship experience and most intimate conversation I have ever had with God. I'll never forget it. 

"For with God nothing will be impossible."

Books

His Needs, Her Needs by William Harley, Jr. was an eye opener for me. I really enjoyed how it talked about how people get into mediocre zones in their marriage which lead to affairs. I read the book because I feel distant from Dan when we have a child. I have a hard time connecting with him for a while. 

After reading this book, I talked with Dan about us finding a recreational activity to do together which we both enjoy. Apparently watching movies doesn't qualify. And according to the book, we need to find something that we both enjoy. I like dancing, but Dan isn't too fond of it. Dan would very like to fence with me, but I'm not jiggy with that either. We're thinking about starting bowling for date nights. Doesn't that sound fun? In the past we have also enjoyed canoeing. 

Here are the needs that the author says that men have:

1. Sexual fulfillment (didn't see THAT coming!) 

2. Recreational companionship

3. An attractive spouse (A very interesting chapter also!)

4. Domestic support

5. Admiration

And for the women:

1. Affection

2. Conversation

3. Honesty and openness

4. Financial support

5. Family commitment

I found the book to be a little on the old-fashioned side of things, but when it came right down to it, there was little with which I disagreed. There is a survey at the end of the book and lots of discussion questions to start communication at the end of each chapter. 

At the end of the book, I came away with the understanding that I have to make time to spend time with Dan... be intentional about date nights and converesation. Essentially, we need to reserve time AND energy to really enjoy and know each other better. Dan and I have made time for each other, but it's mostly at, like, 4am when we can't sleep. It will be interesting to have a date with him in which we're both awake at the end... and not just watching credits from a movie. :) 

The second book I recommend is "For Women Only" by Shauna Feldhahn. My husband was having some work issues recently and this book was my guide for being a supportive spouse. It helped me understand his heart a little more, too. 

She Tells It Like It Is

Morgan: "Mom, your clothes don't fit. I can see your belly."

Sorry, kid. I ain't dropping any more dough on maternity clothes right now.

________________________

Morgan: "Mom, the stripes in your hair look like peanut butter and chocolate."

Thanks. I like my highlights even more now.

Ponderings

Dear Mary,

I'm 8 days away (hopefully) from delivering my second child. I've been thinking about you lately, it being Christmas and all. Thought I'd drop you a line and get your thoughts on your gestation of Jesus.

First, kudos to you regarding the last trimester donkey ride. Even sitting on a couch for hours causes my derriere to complain and I'm not hitting any rough terrain. The Bible is pretty quiet about your thoughts on this. I'm sure you didn't relish the road trip, but I imagine that you took it graciously. 

If I may be so bold, I have to admit something: If some angel told me that I was about to bear the Son of God, I would have shouted, "Score! I'm set! Bring on the dainties!" I would have expected (humbly, of course) the red carpet treatment. I would have anticipated comfortable accommodations, a 4-star labor and delivery unit and maybe some other perks. Free raisin cakes or something. I don't know. 

I'm pretty certain that with your humble status and station in life, you were not a "taker". In fact, given that marriage was so important for the provisions of women, I'm very impressed that when you were told that you were "with child" before marriage that you didn't say, "Well, isn't this a peach of a situation." You would've had the right to do that. But you didn't. You trusted God.

When I think of the arrival of your Son, I love how the story unfolds: A weary nation longs for their Messiah and is given prophecies of His coming. Clinging to these words, they look longingly at the horizon and see... no white horse. No shining armor. No manna from the sky. No burning bush. Nothing extraordinary to which they are accustomed.

With the exception of that whole heavenly host chorus, they see: the ordinary. Actually, the ordinary is too hard to see. They refuse to believe that their King would come in such a way: born to a couple who have no clout in life, begotten in a vary unusual--even scandalous?-- way, and introduced first to some drunken shepherds and far-out kings who have a thing for astronomy. Not exactly the first visitors I would want to visit MY baby.

It's a story that turns "majesty" on its head. I love this story. 

My absolute favorite part of the story is how you "pondered all these things in your heart". I can't relate to most of your gestation: the lack of a baby shower, the hairy ambulance ride to your delivery quarters and the first odd visitors are not how we birth babies these days. But the "pondering"... oh yes. What a beautiful way to describe all the chaotic combination of emotions: the clash of joys and sorrows and pains and elations that make up that. One. Moment. 

Pondered.

I hope you're not offended, but compared to you, I'm pretty decked out, ready for this baby to arrive. We're not alike in this way at all. I have a few more material possessions at my disposal. (And they're not all bad, either... wipes warmers are a neat invention.) 

But I do share your heart during this special season of life. And I'm glad to share this holy moment with you: of life, of birth, of "oh-my-God-you-chose-me" and, and, of ponderings.

Yours,

Emily

Big Sister to Be

Morgan the "Mommy".

Isn't that the orange that we gave her baby? Could be, could be.

Yep. The sugar sets in nicely.

Cup 'o Tea

Yesterday was "contractor day". I had scheduled 3 contractors to come at various times throughout the day to fix our furnace, backup sump and garage door. And while being home all day isn't always my cup of tea, it turned out just fine. 

Morgan notified me that today was Ariel's birthday and that we needed to have a party for her. With the combination of Christmas and a new baby sibling right around the corner, Morgan has been wanting me to play a lot of pretend with her: Pretend Christmas (she wraps up her toys and opens them the next morning), pretend birthday party (she wraps up her presents and gives them to dolls) and pretend Mommy (she gives her dolls food that she later eats). 

Today was no exception: She wrapped up some presents for Ariel. Then she made "inbitations" in which there were "rules" for the party. As I recall, the invitation told guests: "no hitting, bragging or sweating." I'm pretty much speechless as to how she came up with that one.

We got the Easy Bake oven out and made cookies for the guests. Fortunately all of our guests had a lack of a gastrointestinal system, so Morgan and I had to eat "their" cookies, too. 

And then, like a good party host, she cleaned the dishes. 

Somehow in that busy morning I managed to go to my ob-gyn and talk to various contractors. What a day.

In the end I was acutely aware that these "home days" are sometimes Morgan's favorite. Aw, shucks... I like them, too. 

She Speaks. Well.

Emily: "Morgan, are you coming downstairs?"

Morgan: "I'll be down momentarily. I have to get my jammies on."

*awestruck*

Emily: "Momentarily?"

Morgan: "It means 'in a minute', Mom."

____________________________

Morgan was looking out the window, watching her neighbors walk to school.

Morgan: "All my friends go to kindergarten now. I'm the only faithful one."

Last Days of Pregnancy Memoirs

For some reason I am under the impression that I am the only mother in the world who doesn't spend her mornings as diligently as she would like. Okay, I'll be honest... I'm downright slovenly, especially of late. 

Getting dressed? Not important.

Breakfast? Whenever we want.

Laundry? Only if it gets really bad.

The school year started with good intentions... I bought some preschool books and spent the first weeks planning lessons and spending time with Morgan. But pregnancy brain = no motivation for me. Mornings are a bear. It's 7am and I have started the morning by sticking my daughter in front of Sesame Street so I can rest. I don't feel guilty about it. I just feel confused by how difficult it can be to be a homemaker at times. Laughing... the day starts with a bang.

Granted, we slept in a bit because Dan and I had an unplanned date night last night. Apparently the pain in my abdomen was something the hospital wanted to monitor, so we took a jaunt. That's probably why we're tired THIS morning. Not sure about other mornings. :)

I'm in the wacky taffy stage of pregnancy where I don't trust my emotions one iota. The other morning I got up early to spend some time with God and all I did was look at the cover of my Bible. I didn't want to open it at all. I didn't want one extra thought in my head. Or word. Just quietness. So I just looked at the cover and thanked God for His love.

Yesterday I felt exhausted after church. Dan took Morgan to a birthday party while I rested. I did end up resting, but then I got the domestic bug and started making cookies and oven fries... apparently I felt our family needed carbs. I don't know. That was our dinner. Hehe.

Sometimes I feel lonely and thrilled to get a phone call. Sometimes I feel very angry at the phone for ringing. I just want quietness. Totally unpredictable. 

I'm taking a lot of baths, for some reason, too. 

I'm not sure what today holds. Morgan wants to make slime. That sounds okay. 

Dan is working from the 'burbs and doing my grocery shopping presently before he goes to work. How did I land such a sweetheart?

All this to say, the theme for today is the following: flexibility, grace and rest. And hopefully some laughter, too, with this goofy pregnancy.

Ponderings

Before my IVF process, I began to receive encouragement from friends and family in the form of gifts and letters. At times the hope for a healthy pregnancy seemed too heavy and so I referred back to these letters and prayers often. I put them in spiral bound notebook which I insisted be yellow, for Hope.

I recently came across this notebook and remembered:

Many months ago, there was an article in The Banner Magazine entitled "Blessed are Those Who Mourn". I was deeply moved by this article and wrote the author. What follows is a snippet of her beautiful writing followed by an amazing response from her. As I walk these last days of pregnancy, I am reminded that this baby was conceived through a huge family of people who cared. I'm deeply touched.

She writes:

My courage to love despite loss comes from God’s own courage to love us. God is astonished and wounded by our utter rejection. He mourns. And he keeps loving. And though life will continue to shake us all, God’s own warm body is in this sea, and there we delight in the discovery of our finite humanity while attached like a barnacle to our infinite God. We learn to mimic God because we are in love, and we joyfully shout to him, “Father, look at us, we’re alive!”

Dear Emily,

Thank you so much for your kind words. I'm so thankful to know how these words touched you. Thank you for taking the time to write.

Emily, I was able to spend some time praying for you and Dan last night. I might know some of the heart ache you two have gone through with the loss of your babies; my husband and I were never able to have children. As I prayed for the two of you, my heart leapt with hope! I'm so happy to hear you are able to try IVF. I'll continue to pray that you will be able to hold your child one day.

I'm glad to hear you will not be embarrassed for the love you have for your unborn children. In love, we are getting just a small taste of the mystery that holds the universe together. God has so much to teach us! What a joy it is to be his child. May you grow stronger in love everyday. May you be strengthened and refreshed daily from his Word (from his heart!) for your "big journey." Blessings to you Emily.

Your companion in Christ,
Lisa Svelmoe

Superhero

When we last left our superhero, she was unable to sleep. Something inside her strongly compelled her to awake--alone-- and attend to the pre-dawn hour responsibilities. It was good that she did, too, because "cottage cheese" had not been added to the grocery list. Foible averted.

This morning, she awoke again during the hours before light. Smirking, she joked that should name her next daughter "Dawn", a remark which would have been funnier had other human life also been awake.

But no, superheroes by nature work alone. Saving people from burning buildings. Giving con artists a dose of their own medicine. Growing babies and embracing insomnia. That sort of thing.

It was on this particular morning that our Superhero revealed her true identity: Pregnancy Girl. There was nothing subtle about her stature or her name. And while Pregnancy Girl had always wanted to be in such a state, she was eager to embrace a new line of work. Perhaps something in mothering. Or breastfeeding.

She was also eager to don a new ensemble. Something a little more svelte. Experience told her to resist the urge to burn her current wardrobe in case of bodily weight malfunction. Just a hunch.

Upon revealing her true identity, she could now fully embrace all that she was meant to be: the Neurotic 2 am Maker of Lists, the Psychotic Baker of Cookies before Sun's Light and... Drinker of Lots of Water. Amply cushioned, she sat down this morning with pen in hand and began to center her mind for the day. Everything seemed equally important, but our superhero, with her super-neuroses for a mind, was able to see that with time, and a mid-morning nap, it would all come together. Yes it would.

Dirty Little Secrets

Today I read a book called "Dirty Little Secrets". It's about mothers. Doing things they wouldn't want others to see. And admitting it.

Before I became a mother: I blamed children's tantrums on the parent's lack of discipline.
After becoming a mother: I sigh with relief upon seeing other children throw tantrums as wild as my daughter's two-year old phase.

Before: A good time with my husband meant rock wall climbing or canoeing.
After: Bed. 8pm. Watching Simpsons.

Before: I wondered how women could become so lax in their parenting.

After: I have let my daughter have cookies. For breakfast. And only cookies.

Before: Seeing my husband across a crowded room made my heart pitter-patter.

After: Seeing my husband walk in the door for dinner is the most exciting sound of the day.

Before: I cringed at children who had mismatched clothes.

After: I still like Morgan to dress nicely, but most days my only qualification for clothing is that they are season appropriate.

Before: I thought waddling, pregnant women were cute.

After: I think other waddling, pregnant women are cute. 

Before: I was horrified at the thought of having a male ob-gyn.

After: I'd rather have a male than female. They can't empathize, so they can't criticize. :)

Before: I thought newborns were easy, cute and adorable.

After: Cute? Yes. 

Adorable? Yep. 

Easy? Heck no.

Whenever I see a new, deer-in-headlights mom, I make a point to TELL her that her child is adorable so that she'll remember that SHE thought newborns were cute, too, at one point. Which is why she is in this mess. *wink*

Before: I was concerned that children would change my life.

After: Duh.

Before: I thought baby equipment and toys were the only things kids like to play with.

After: I realize my daughter's motto is: "What's yours is mine. What's mine is also mine."

Before: I was scared of labor and delivery.

After: I'm scared of not going into labor.

Before: I thought a good mother would carefully plan out a day just like preschool teachers do.

After: Sometimes being a good mom means taking time to oneself. While one's child watches TV. For two hours.

Before: An older gentleman convinced me that being a stay-at-home mother was a privilege and offered many hours for running errands, chasing sales and making meals easily.

After: Being a stay-at-home mother is a privilege. It's also the hardest, most rewarding, frustrating and enjoyable job I have ever had. 

Before: I had a friend who had a newborn. Shortly after she suffered with severe baby blues. She called up church people to take her newborn for the day. She didn't want to be anywhere near her child. I thought she was odd.

After: Never, never underestimate the power of hormones. I don't think I honestly started to like being a mother until Morgan was 2. Maybe 3.

Before: I shuttered at the newly born, unclean child.

After: If I could pull this child out of my body right now with my bare hands and kiss her, I would.

Before: I hated double talk.

After: I have actually had a talk with my daughter about the importance of eating healthy breakfast food while I took a spoon to the ice cream container.

Before: I didn't like how Angeli*na Jol*ie only managed to find men who were already taken.

After: I began to see her other "nice" qualities: gorgeous, extremely fertile, rich, privileged and--most importantly-- makes motherhood and giving birth look easy. It's go time, Jol*ie. You're going down.

Atheists: Get God out of Kentucky

Atheists want to get God out of Kentucky.

Note to self:
Do NOT move to Kentucky.
Do NOT drive through Kentucky.
And to be safe, do NOT buy Kentucky Frie*d Chicken, either. :)

Insomnia

It's 4am. The insomnia started at 2, but I managed to force myself to stay in bed for those hours.

But now I have relinquished all thoughts of sleep.

My last few days of pregnancy with Morgan were similar, as I recall. Insomnia. Sleeping in strange positions in various places: the living room, the recliner and, on occasion, our bedroom.

I find particularly humorous the lack of filter on my priorities. For some reason, the need to provide for my family leads me to waking at some dark hour with the following thoughts:

- "Cottage Cheese!"
- "Buy cloth labels with Morgan's name on them for school."
- "Must. Decorate. Living Room."

I awake ready to hit the ground running with my aimless mind vomit. Fortunately Morgan keeps me on schedule with little reminders: "Can I have breakfast, Mom" she asks, interrupting my thoughts on why I MUST get my toes painted before the baby arrives.

My favorite television shows are a little detrimental to my mental well-being of late. I Iove to watch home decorating or home improvement programs. But my thought life is in overdrive. If the designer is claiming that "art, art, art" is what will make or break this particular room's design, I can't stop thinking about it. Which is probably why I bought that painting at Home*Goods yesterday. (Smile.)

My husband is generally the receiver of these mood swings and thought patterns but he benefits as well. I'm cooking quite a bit. Plus, in a fit of organization, I felt compelled to call a contractor to get a quote on installing a much needed laundry tub in our basement. This tub would be used for utility reasons, of course, but would also benefit Dan's brew station... an easy source of water for cleaning and brewing.

I'm not all bad.

The truth is that, at the end of the day, my mind simply cannot compute the great joy and anticipated responsibility of a new little life bellowing her way into this world and my aching arms. So for now I dink around with projects which I deem of immediate and utmost importance, waiting for her to quiet my thoughts.

Gift Card Happiness

I was starting to get stressed about tomorrow.

I needed to buy several gift cards for family members for Christmas. But I'm due in 3 weeks and my hips just ache with this precious child. Walking must be portioned out in bite-sized pieces. You get?

I thought to myself: "Self, why don't you just bite the bullet and pay the shipping to get the gift cards sent directly there?"

I was a little leary. Earlier this year I tried to buy a measly $15 gift card from someplace and they wanted $10 in shipping and handling. Outrageous. I'm too frugal to pay that. And *ahem* I'm too smart. *wink

But I gave it a shot. I went online.

Cue Hallelujah Chorus.

Be*st Buy had free shipping on gift cards.

Walm*art had shipping for less than $2.

The spa gift card for my sis was also zero dollars in shipping.

My hips and legs are so thankful.

Holiday Fun with the Dykstra Family

There were large flocks of geese sunning themselves in the school yard behind our house on Thanksgiving Day. The air was loud with their squawking. They seemed to know that they have been saved from being the Thanksgiving bird.

Dan and his mother prepared the bird.

Dan and his father cut the bird. 

The next day we found a tree farm. Jill is a big helper. :)

Man. Saw. Grunt.

Watching Dad and Dan mount the tree to the car was a comedy of errors.

Morgan was eager to open presents on Saturday morning. We waited until everyone was up.

Mom Dykstra enjoys a gift.

Jill gets the big present she was waiting for. *Love*

Mom gets a smooch.