Survival Mode

I just thought life was busy back in May.

I'll try to update.

God is working in our lives, and the winds of change are blowing again.  I have been working massive amounts of hours at work, 6 days a week, ever since September.  We have been on mandatory overtime for a number of months now, and back at the beginning of October we were told not to even ask to have any weekends off for the rest of this year.  Apparently Cessna believes that the most important priority in my life is to build and move airplanes down the line at their specified move rate, regardless of how much time out of my personal life this endeavor takes.  I disagree.  I do not see Cessna as a career, merely a job to pay the bills so I can support my family and spend the rest of my weeks' hours with them.  There are a couple of areas around the spot where I work on the line that have worked 7 day weeks for the last couple of weeks.  It is only a matter of time before this fate will find it's way to my jig.  It is for this reason that I put in four transfer requests to the Cessna plants in Wichita.  They do not work the amount of overtime there like we do here. 

I actually got a job over there that I did not apply for but really wanted to have with Experimental.  (Bit of a God-deal there)  Experimental is far different than the assembly lines because they are working on the brand new aircraft that Cessna is trying to get certified.  I know a number of people who work in Experimental in Wichita, and everyone in that department seems to enjoy their jobs.  (It's really laid back.  Really, really laid back!  A change I am ready to welcome eagerly.)   So, after a year and a half of doing the same thing week after week, I find myself rather suddenly at the end of my term here at Cessna Independence.  I start in Wichita on January 2nd, but because we get the week of Christmas off as paid vacation, my last day out here will be December 20th.  I am about to work my last weekend in Independence, and then next week will be my final lap.

We are trying to get our house fixed up and ready to sell.  We're getting closer, but aren't there yet.  It's kind of like working a 2nd job in addition to my 60 hours a week at Cessna.  I come home, play with the kids while Nicole makes supper, eat, and then one of us entertains the kiddos while the other works on the house.  Micah doesn't sleep through the night yet and doesn't fall asleep until he's good and ready, so both of us are often up two or three times in the 5-6 hours we have to sleep.  Needless to say, both of us are starting to wear ragged.  We are moving to Wichita in two weeks, and we haven't even packed a single box yet.

My Dad calls this kind of living "Survival Mode".  When you find yourself staggering forward, just focusing on the task at hand, and once it's complete immediately taking on the next challenge.  The unimportant gets pushed back and the crucial becomes priority.  Sleep when you can, and hope it's enough to get you through the next day.  We desperately need this Christmas vacation coming up.  Although we will be very busy fixing the house and trying to move, we should be able to sleep in a little bit later and tag-team the kids during the day.

While Nicole went grocery shopping tonight, and the kids were in bed, I didn't feel like working on the house so I wrote on my pitifully neglected blog.  Actually, I feel kinda guilty for even writing when I have so much that needs to be done.  Oh well.  My readership is now updated.  Expect another update in the next 6-9 months.

My Son is Vesuvius

On August 7th God blessed us with our first son, Micah David.  The little guy is awesome!  He eats, and sleeps, and poops.  Lots and lots of poops.  Lately his bowel movements have been rather sudden and explosive.  My wife informed me of this, warning me that it has become his practice to have a "rocket poop"  (as she so memorably put it) in those special  moments when the dirty diaper has been removed and the clean diaper has yet to be installed.  She claimed he had pooped all over his changing station more than once, and even on her when she least expected it.  Duly noted to self.

Today, while my wife was in the other room changing Micah, I heard an explosive pop and Nicole said, "Oh my word!"  I entered the room to a sight that cannot be described with words other than Poop.  Lots and lots of poop.  Poop all over the changing table.  Poop covering the baby powder container and lotion bottle.  Poop dripping off the edge of the changing table.  Poop on the wall, poop on the floor, poop in the closet.  Poop four feet away from the point of departure.  My first response?  I told my wife not to move, ran and grabbed the camera, and took both still pictures and video of the scene.  (I have not included any of these on my xanga page - you're welcome.)  My son is Vesuvius.

I told that story to set up another.  One that took place last week at 2 am in the morning.  I woke to the sound of Micah fussing in his crib in the corner of our room.  In my sleepy stupor I recognized this fuss as his pre-pooping moans.  A minute later I heard the definitive squirts which indicated he had done his business.  I try to run interference with the kids at night as much as I can so that my wife can get some rest, so I got up to change his diaper.  Not wanting to disturb my sleeping wife, I didn't bother to turn on the lamp but tried to perform the diaper changing maneuver by the dim light from the hallway which partially lit the room.  This required me to lean in closer than usual during the wiping phase, blinking and staring hard through sleep-blurred eyes to make sure I was being effective in cleansing the entire surface.  Holding Micah's feet with one hand, I lifted his tiny posterior higher and peered hard to ensure my work.  In that moment, without so much as even a whimper for warning, my son's hindquarters exploded.  My outcry awoke my wife and she asked what happened, as only a frightened, freshly roused mother can voice it. Blinking muddy tears, poop dripping from my face and arms and the side of the crib, I said, "He just pooped in my eye!" 

Somehow, she found the whole matter far more amusing than did I.

Life, as it has a tendency to do, has been very busy.  My last 24 hours:

8:00-10pm - Got Faith ready for bed and put her down.  Worked on the house (we've been remodeling the bathroom).  Did dishes.

10:01-11pm - Found myself extremely hungry.  Ate a PBJ sandwich.  Still hungry.  Made and ate 2 fried-egg sandwiches.  Visited with my wife.  Went to bed.

11pm-3:30am - Slept.  Got up a couple of times to take care of the baby.

3:31am-4:50am - Faith woke up hungry.  Gave her a bottle, put her back down.  Faith woke 5 minutes later crying.  Gave her a little more to eat, put her back down.  Faith woke 5 minutes later crying.  Repeated process 2 more times before bringing her to bed with us.  Faith flopped all over the bed, kicking my pregnant wife in the stomach numerous times and digging her fingernails into my back.  Realized I wasn't going to get any more sleep that night. 

4:51-4:52am - Faith sat up in bed and threw up all over the place.  Lots and lots of baby puke.

4:52-5:25am - Cleaned up the baby and stripped the bed of sheets. Got dressed for work.  Staggered into the kitchen and packed a lunch.  Kissed my girls and left for Cessna.

5:25-5:52am - Listened to Dr. David Jeremiah in the car.

5:52am-5:02pm - Longest day ever at work.  Drilled out the 208 frame on the aft cabin.  Discovered two major problems with our current forward cabin that brought out engineers, techs, M.E.s, team leaders, area leaders, and of course all the big dogs on the Mustang line.  Got caught up in the middle of a long and ridiculous process of eliminating obviously wrong possibilities to determine what I already knew to be the problem because that was what the big dogs wanted to do. Called home to tell my wife I would be late for supper.

5:03-6pm - Drove home.  Ate supper.  Tried to feed a sick and fussy baby peas.  She gagged and almost threw up on my neck as I was rushing through the kitchen to hang her face over the sink.  Put the peas in the refrigerator.

6:01-7:45pm - Told my wife I was going to hang the bathroom door and that it would take 10 minutes.  Put hinges door and door frame.  Fought with door.  Finally attached door and tried to close it.  Door wouldn't close.  Door closed perfectly last time I worked on it.  Tried numerous different tricks to get door to close.  Reminded self to buy a pre-hung door next time.  Door refused to close.  Took door back off and to the garage.  Belt sanded all possible areas of trouble.  Took door back to bathroom.  Fought with door trying to attatch it to the hinges again.  "Stupid door!"  Reminded self to by a pre-hung door again.  Finally attached door.  Door still refused to close.  Fell down on floor in the hallway and kicked my feet on the floor and threw a fit.  Nicole told me to work on it tomorrow.

7:46-8pm - Gave Faith a bottle and a bath and put her to bed.

There is a reason I haven't been posting lately. 

A Father's Love

 I'm sitting here watching my little girl bouncing and dancing and twirling in her "Johnny Jump-Up" that she got for Christmas.  (The batteries in our camera are dead, or I would post a picture of her in it.)  Ever so often she looks over her shoulder and smiles at me, then spins around and blows me a raspberry.  I sit here and I wonder how it is possible for my heart to continue beating without bursting because it is so full of love for her.  No one could have ever explained to me and made me understand how deep a parent's love grows, how strong it is, how tender it becomes.  Everyday I love my baby girl more and more. 

Her personality keeps developing as the days go by.  She absolutely loves being outdoors (though we haven't been outside much lately with the cold weather), and loves hats. 

She loves baths and being naked - She hates naps and getting dressed (and wearing dresses).  Her favorite game is "Where's Faith?" (peek-a-boo), and she will initiate it any time she doesn't feel that Mommy and Daddy are paying her enough attention by either pulling her shirt up over her eyes, or burying her face in the floor until we notice that she's "gone".  Sometimes she will give us kisses - pinch both our cheeks in her strong hands, open her mouth wide, and plant a big wet one right on our lips. 

She has excellent eye-hand coordination. This is not just the opinion of a proud Daddy - Nicole has read in a number of places how far along normal children are developed through the different months, and Faith has been at least 6 months ahead of what the resources say she should be able to do with her hands.  She favors her left, and is VERY quick with them.  My daughter also has a fetish with feet, hers or anybody else's, and will roll all the way across the room the moment she spots my shoes so she can untie them.  She loves being barefoot and feels that everyone else should be the same.  Anytime she masters something with her hands, she attempts doing the same thing with her feet.  She rolls everywhere and is on the verge of crawling - she keeps getting up on her hands and knees and rocking back and forth. 

Faith is incredibly strong.  Nicole and I have caught her more than once waving objects above her head with one hand that weigh a couple of pounds. (I once saw her grab a can of fruit with one hand, pick it up enough to get her other hand on it, and then throw it as far as she could.)  We have both gawked in amazement as she lifts herself up off her stomach on the floor into the leaning-rest, perfect pushup position, touching the ground only with her hands and her toes!  I've seen her do pushups several times, and I'm floored every time she does.  (Is that NORMAL for 7 1/2 month old girl?)  She has an excellent sense of humor (she thinks gas and burps are funny), and laughs at her Mom and Dad whenever one of us does something stupid, intentionally or not.  She is pretty smart too, and has already begun trying to mimic Nicole and me from time to time.

My love for her runs deep, there is no doubt! 

Then I read: "For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son [to suffer horribly, bleed profusely, and die grotesquely], that whoever believes in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life."  I don't understand this.  If someone were about to hurt my little girl, I would without hesitation hurt them first.  I would die protecting her; in fact I would even kill to keep her from being killed.  But God did the unthinkable for a parent to do - He sent His one and only Son to be killed by us, the very people He wanted to save  He was willing to allow His Son to suffer and die so that we who were once His enemies could become His children.  Our sins killed the Son, and the Father wants to forgive us of those sins through the atoning sacrifice of the Son's death.  I do not understand this kind of love.  How can I, once a traitorous dog and worm of a man in my sins, now stand before God as His child, fully forgiven and approved?  This is the great mystery of the Gospel, and the older and wiser I grow, the more mysterious it becomes to me.

What wondrous love is this, oh my soul?

Currently Reading The Horse and His Boy By C. S. Lewis see related

Well, life moves steadily on.  Here it is February already....  Is it just me, or does time move faster after you've had kids?  Faith is growing, and so is Nicole's tummy as the Baby Cox #2 is exponentially expanding inside of her midsection.  We are discussing names again.  With Faith we waited until she was born to find out whether she would be a boy or a girl and just had two names ready.  (We got a lot of puzzled looks from people from our generation when they asked what we were having and we replied that we were waiting to find out.  I guess that it's pretty much unheard of anymore that people want to wait to know.  Nicole said wanting to find out what she was having helped her push through the labor and delivery.)  We have a girl name picked out, but the boy name has been a bit more elusive for us.  Oh well, we still have some time.

We are in the final phases of buying a house.  Yep, we're actually doing this - the whole thing has turned out to be a bit of a God-deal.  We have been praying about our housing situation for some time now, and just in the last month or so did we begin considering buying a house as opposed to renting.  We did a little casual looking at places around town that we felt we could afford, but all of them needed more work than I really wanted to do in addition to working overtime and trying to spend time with my little family.  I kind of had in my mind what "perfect" would be: 3 bedrooms, 2 baths, central heat and air, all or most appliances already furnished (since we don't have any) with at least a washer and dryer so we could do laundry at home, a fenced yard (corner lot preferably),  with an outbuilding where I could store my lawn mower, tools, and camping gear (attached garage would be awesome), and that the house would need a little fixing up so that I could have some projects to do from time to time.  Of course, I was more than willing to settle for much less than what was on my "it would be nice" list, and had very little expectation of finding any one house that had all of these qualities.  We were just looking for something that would somewhat measure up, and try to get as many things on the list as possible, especially with our limited price range.  But, God seems to enjoy dumping blessings on our heads like butternut syrup on pancakes.  Nicole found a house online that hit every item on the list (the range and refrigerator are brand spank'n new, the washer and dryer look new too, AND it has an attached garage), and it had only been listed a week and a half when the seller dropped the price $5,000, plopping it right down into a comfortable price range for us.  We found out when we looked at it that it was far nicer than anything else on the market that we could afford, and that nobody else had made an offer yet.  Long story short, we were first in line, and since our offer was accepted, we are well on our way toward being homeowners.

We don't plan on living in Independence for the rest of our lives - this is merely where God has us now.  It appears that with all of our prayers about moving out of our little apartment, this house is God's answer and will meet all of our needs (and a number of our wants) and cost us less each month in doing so.  We see this house as both a blessing and an investment.  Hopefully we can put some money into it and make it a cozy little place to live, and then either get our money back or maybe even make a little extra when the time comes to sell it.  At least we have a chance at doing so - with renting the money is just gone.  And so, once again God is providing as we pray, and teaching us that all things come from Him.  We really don't deserve all the blessings He pours out on our little pancake heads.....  but I sure do love Him for them, and it makes me smile and want to tell others about His goodness and love.  Yeshua is worthy of our praise regardless of what He chooses to do.  I really get a kick out of the way He works things out for His followers though!