... of sibling rivalry

I mentioned it a little last post, but this video I took this morning contributed to my slight worry about what might ensue when the baby girl ~~gets more demanding~~ is born.

On the bright side: at least Abram is wanting to read and being polite by asking please. You can hear how sad his mucus filled little voice is. I can usually get him to cough to break it up, but he did so much coughing last night, I just kind of left it alone this morning. Poor bug.

Anyway, here's to hoping he won't be throwing books on Selah when we are taking videos of her in a few months. But I guess I shouldn't be surprised. One of the most famous stories in my house growing up was how excited my parents were that my 16 month old self seemed to like my little sister the first few days she was home. Until the day I marched up to her surrounded by adoring fans, looked at her, and said, "Bye bye baby". So I really shouldn't put it past my 17 month old to have some attention withdrawl.

But, as Quinn likes to say: "I guess we'll burn that bridge when we get there" (he's got a little metaphor confusion, but it makes me love him more).

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... of the tipping point

I haven't blogged in so very long, I can't remember when and I'm not going to stop this thought train to go and check. Suffice it to say, it's been awhile. But I showed up here to share (and document) a major event in the life of our family. Before Moses came home, I would see adoptive families posting about their kiddos' "Tipping Point Days". I recently heard it called something else as well, but I'm too tired to think of it right now. Basically, it is the day when your adopted child has been with you for as long as they were not with you. For kids that were adopted at 1 or 2 or 3, that seems to come quickly and maybe feels eventful, but not monumental. Well, when we got custody of Moses he was about 4 years and 9 months old. I remember coming back to America and seeing someone in my adoption group post about their 2 or 3 year old's Tipping Point Day and thinking I should figure out when Moses's would be. So I did. I sat down and figured ou

... of a patent

... or maybe, just maybe , I'm jumping the gun :) A good friend told me the other day that she and her husband have been leaving church after the worship because she can't sit for an extended time in the folding chairs. Our church did a great thing and bought inexpensive folding chairs for our sanctuary in order to 1)save money and 2)be able to use the empty room for community type events in the neighborhood during the week. This is awesome. I support their decision and so does my friend who is leaving after the worship (and watching the previous week's sermon from home). But she is pregnant. She already had back problems and now (of course!) they are worse. My back is just starting to bother me and I know that there are many pregnant women with back problems and normal people with back problems who whimper inside a little every time they enter a room and see folding chairs. Until now, I had just sort of reconciled myself to the fact that sitting in a folding chair was

...of a name

If you've been tracking with us for awhile now, you may remember that when we were pregnant with Selah, we had a boy name chosen . This time, we had a few boy options, but the old standby won out, because we really do like it a lot. But just like two years ago, we still can't quite agree on a middle name for this kid. That's where you can help. His name is Simon. After Simon Peter, the apostle. It's five letters and it's Hebrew (like the other kids) and we like it. But, here's the thing: We have four options for middle names. The two that Quinn really like, I have been vehemently opposed to. I will share them with you in the most unbiased (yeah, right) way possible and you can tell me if I'm wrong. For real. I won't be mad. He likes Simon Quinn and Simon Peter. Now, you may be thinking "Wait a minute... isn't Quinn Abram's middle name?" Why yes, yes it is. Much to the credit of his beloved parents, Quinn likes his na

On the Verge...

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