The "Saturday" 7

1. Last Saturday, after posting my freakishly early Saturday 7, we had a family bonfire in the backyard. Lena was dyyyyying to make s'mores, so she talked Justin into taking her to the store for the ingredients. Then we all sat around our little fire, stuffed our faces, and ran around the backyard catching fireflies. These are the moments summer is made of.

Marshmallow roasting is serious business.

You know it's a good s'more when you get it on your forehead . . .

My kind of s'more. #saynotograhamcrackers

2. On Monday, Justin climbed on the roof to put up our TV antenna. He let the kids go up there as well. Levi thought it was so awesome. He cannot stop talking about it! When he came down (reluctantly), he said, "I think I did see China!" Hahahaha. Lena surprisingly enjoyed it as well, despite her fear of heights. Lucy made it up a couple rungs on the ladder, said, "Nope" and turned back around. Lol.

3. The big news around the house this week is the long-awaited room switch! The electrician came and mostly finished Levi's room, so Levi moved in downstairs, and Lena moved into Levi's room. Everyone has their own room now! Woohoo! Splitting the girls was an extremely long process. I don't have any before pictures because I'm woefully ashamed of the mess, but suffice it to say that it took me 2.5 days of cleaning and re-organizing to make it livable. And now I will inundate you with pictures of my hard work since this is the last time they will ever be so clean.

Lena's Room:

Lucy's Room:

Levi's room isn't really done since the electrician has a little bit more to do in there, but here's a snapshot:

Levi's sleep is still a disaster. But it doesn't seem to be any worse in the new room than it was in the old, so that's something. He's also stopped asking for his Binky and seems to have survived that transition. Whew!

4. Actually, Levi's sleep issues are the reason this post is a day late. Usually Justin and I tag-team it, so neither of us is stuck with him for 3 solid hours waiting for him to fall asleep. But last night, Justin was on a much-needed guys' night, so I was doing bedtime solo. Let's just say there were tears . . . and they weren't all Levi's. This is another area of parenting that I feel like a big fat failure. We start putting him to bed at 8:30 most nights, and he is almost never asleep before 11. He will not stay in his room unless someone is in there with him. That was the part that got to me last night. There was no escape. I couldn't step out and take a minute. If I left his room, he followed me out. He can undo the lock, so that doesn't help. My numerous threats and just as numerous spankings did not help. I hate feeling controlled by him. I am the parent. If I want to leave his room, I should be able to. The double whammy of feeling trapped + feeling like a failure set off a powerful spiral of depression. It actually didn't take much to push me over the edge, because I've been teetering there for a while. I have a physical scheduled for September 10, where I plan to seriously discuss my current medication. And last night made me realize I'm ready to go to counseling. I still don't have a lot of faith in counseling (sorry to my mother-in-law and other friends who do that for a living!), but I'm getting desperate enough to try it at this point. It's unlikely that my insurance will cover anything, so I'm a little stressed about the money, but I figure it's an investment that needs to be made. I'm sure I'll keep you updated. ;-)

5. Another contribution to my depression this week was my stupid diet. I've written about how my parents are planning on selling their house, right? Well they're hoping to list it pretty soon and I'm getting super emotional about it. (#storyofmylife) My dad is also retiring at the end of this month, so my siblings and I have been trying to think of some sort of gift to get him. Last Sunday it finally dawned on me: one last family photo shoot at the ol' homestead. I can't even remember the last picture we have of the whole family, not to mention the many recent additions. It was no easy task to find a day and time that all 21 of us could be in the same place at the same time, but we finally settled on today. And our wonderful photographer squeezed us in. I decided to diet for one week, just to make my stomach go down a little. I can do anything for a week, right? (Wrong.) I decided to try a combination of intermittent fasting and low carb for the first time. It was effective. My body responded very quickly. I lost 4 pounds in 3 days. But it was not worth it for the emotional side effects. Lol. I was so ornery and irritable. I know it was probably sugar withdrawals and maybe it would eventually even out, but I don't have the discipline or desire to wait it out. By day 4, I was shoveling the girls' parade candy in my face at 11:00 at night. Friday I downed a frapuccino, and yesterday I ate two donuts. Moral of the story: if I look portly in our family photos, remember that I'm not pregnant. I just really love carbs and sugar.

6. One more random thing that's been on my mind a lot lately: I've been hit over the head recently with the reminder that as Christians we will have hard times. We will suffer. God will allow bad things to happen. But our hope and comfort is in his presence. Real confession time: that's not super comforting to me. I want to stomp my feet like a little kid and say, "You can stop this! I don't care that you're with me if you're not going to do anything about my suffering!" I'm tempted to declare that he's cruel to have the power to stop it, to be right there with me while I'm going through it, and to do nothing! But the image that keeps coming to my mind is taking my 2 month old baby to the doctor to get shots for the first time. That sweet little baby, lying there on the table smiling up at me, completely trusting me to protect her. And yet I'm the one holding down her arms so she can't push the syringes away. And as she starts crying when she feels the pain of the needle, all I can whisper in her ear is, "It's ok. I'm right here." And when it's over, I pick her up and hold her close. It doesn't take away the pain, but I hope that my presence in itself is a comfort. Technically, I have the power to withhold the vaccinations that cause her pain. But I allow it for a reason - one that she can't possibly comprehend at 2 months old. All she knows is that she's in pain, I was right there by her capable of stopping it, but I allowed it. I keep telling myself the same is true of God. He takes no joy in my pain. But he knows it's useful and necessary, even if I can't possibly comprehend how or why. And he's whispering in my ear, "It's ok. I'm right here." I just have to trust that he'll use this stupid depression to sanctify me. That my inadequacy will force me to rely on him. And that down the road, I won't get polio or diptheria and I'll be able to say, "Ah, that's why he allowed me to go through that pain." Or something like that. ;-)

7. Pictures!