The Trouble with Underwear

Not mine. Let's just be clear. It's not my underwear that's the problem.

It's just that it's laundry day... tomorrow is laundry day, too, for that matter. I really don't mind doing laundry as much as I used to, which is surprising when you consider that I have WAY more laundry to do now than when I minded it so much. Just another instance of kids putting things in the proper prespective. The only thing that I really dislike about doing the laundry is folding the dreaded load of socks and underwear. It really annoys me. And in one load, there could be a million socks to be matched and half a million pairs of underwear. At least it seems that way. That's why I managed to rationalize that I have too many things going on with DH gone, I just didn't have time to do it when I did the laundry last time. So now I had a load and a half (because we'd been rooting through the basket looking for underwear) to fold this time. UGH.

The real issue is that I've got three boys, two of which wear the same size. Now, it's all been relatively easy up till now. One of them has always been a tighty-whitey guy, one prefers boxer briefs, and one still wears character underwear. One likes the gray bottom athletic socks, one likes character socks (not the same one that likes the character underwear), and one likes solid colors to match his clothes. Easy enough, once you get the hang of it. However, all of a sudden, the lines between tastes and preferences are getting blurry. Character sock man thinks that maybe he's getting too big for spiderman and should wear gray bottom athletic socks like brother. Whitey-tighty (or is it tighty-whitey?) guy thinks that boxer brief guy seems really comfortable in his britches and maybe he'll give boxer briefs a try. So now, not only is it tedious to match socks and get all the underwear right side out, but I'm going to have to take notes or make a list or something to remember whose socks are whose.

So here's the thing. How do families with more than three kids handle this issue? And how will I handle it when I have even more kids? I remember seeing an episode with the Duggers saying that all the boys wear black socks and all the girls wear white. I get it. But how do you distinguish sizes and which socks are whose? Does everyone just grab a clean pair and go? And sock sharing may all be fine and dandy, but who really wants to do that with underwear, clean or not? Maybe I should just give them all a color to stick with. You always wear green socks and underwear, you always wear blue, and you red. Forget about whether or not their socks clash with their clothes. Don't worry if you can see their colored undies through their khaki dress pants in church on Sunday. Really?

Or maybe this... just have the boys find, sort and fold their own socks and underwear?

Sounds good to me.

You Can't Fool Me...

I know what's really going on here.

So as some of you know, we've had a run of bad luck here. From the time that DH left to go overseas, we have had more than our share of injuries and sickness with the children:

Four staples in the head.

Chipped front tooth.

Injured ankle-first thought was a sprain, then x-rays, then ended up at the pediatric orthopaedist, then walked out before even seeing the doctor.

Now in the midst of my mom's total knee replacement (she live with us), they all have a bad bacterial infection. VERY. BAD. Not to mention that it took over three full days for the pediatrician's office to get back to us that it is, in fact, bacterial and they are calling in an antibiotic for DS1. That's three full days of temps running above 102 degrees (four if you count the day prior to seeing the doctor). Well the other two are sick now too and they can't see them till tomorrow or Monday so they have to wait on antibiotic. Ugh.

So between going to urgent care, radiology, and different doctors offices, we've had nary a dull moment without an appointment to be at. It's more trips to the Dr. than we went to in all the previous three years together.

"What's this all about?" you ask.

I think it's about fighting God's war. I've heard other people talk about this but never experienced it myself. That's probably because prior to the past few years of my life, I haven't really been a soldier in God's army. I believed. I was baptized. But it's only relatively recently that I've stepped up to to the plate, really started following God's word and living God's will. I've started getting more involved in the children's program at church. DH and I have taken charge of our finances, after all, how can we have the means to do the Lord's work if we have debt? We also stepped up to be group leaders at our church. Now this whole adoption calling. Not that I think we are doing anything extraordinary, but we are doing the best we can to get to where we believe God wants us to be.

It seems that once you make a big decision to follow God, that the enemy starts to take you seriously, and if at all possible, discourage you. That's what's going on here. Sat*n knows DH is gone. He knows that we are planning this adoption of several kids. He knows that the thought of half a dozen kids can be daunting. He has decided to play on that seed of doubt. He's trying to make me doubt whether I can handle that many kids, whether this is all a mistake. For a little while, it seemed like it was starting to work. But now, at the end of the ninth week, I feel empowered. Nine weeks of one pain in the bazooka after another. Sure it could have been worse, there's a lot more that could have happened. But I feel really good about being able to deal with what was dished out. So there you have it. Strengthened. Refined by fire. I'm sure there's more fire, more refining necessary. But still, I'm in a good place for 63 days without my husband.

Oh, and I found out, those girls weren't actually matched with a family. Their file was sent to another adoption agency. This time they're listed as one sibling group, not two. What do I make of that? I don't know, I'll get back to you. But I will add them back on my prayer list.

The Beginning of the End

So it seems to me that the last two weeks before he comes home are amazingly like the first two weeks after he's left. I'm exhausted, the boys have been sick, I should be in bed, or at least cleaning the kitchen. Yet, here I am, 2:00 in the morning, and I'm up. It's gone back to being really, really hard to go to bed without him. At least the end is in sight. He will be home soon. The guys that are to relieve him and his buddy arrived today. So it's just training them to take over and making travel arrangements. I'm so excited.

I cannot wait to see him. I cannot wait until this trip is over. I cannot wait until we can get back into our regular routine. I'm so excited to have him home, to be able to have a conversation without a timer. It'll be nice to not be tied to the phone all the time, waiting, hoping. I am so looking forward to sleeping on my own side of the bed. I'm really looking forward to getting started on this adoption.

I'm getting antsy. I just want him home. Soon. Very soon.