Caroline Harper

Last night Caroline joined us at 10:02 weighing 8 pounds and measuring 20 inches. When we finally got to go in the room to meet her, she was wide eyed the entire time and never made a peep! It is evident already she definitely has Kali's temperament :)

I wanted to post a few pictures I was able to quickly snap last night. We were all pooped and the room was dark, so I'll try to get some better ones today. These are in no particular order:ENJOY!!

Uncle Brent and Aunt Kelsey! We were so glad we were able to be there!

Papa Buddy and Grandma are beaming! (I think this is a great picture of them...especially since they had been up since 5 AM

I'm pretty sure she likes me :)

She has a little dark hair under that cap, and I think her eyes have a little blue in them, although it's hard to tell at this point. Her nose is precious!

While not singing, "Born on a mountain top in Tennessee..." Papa Buddy was pretty happy to hold sweet Caroline. His "allergies" seemed to act up a few times though ;)

Brent's an old pro at being an uncle!

My first squeeze of her!

While Nurse was checking all her vitals. She was so relaxed like, "Is there anything I can help you with up there?"

Mom's (Grandma's) First time holding her (she was of course the first one after Dan and Kali) Dan taking a much needed nap during the day. He was such a trooper!The first look! And she is intently looking back. She never closed her eyes and was constantly taking in her surroundings.

More to come! I promise :)

my baby girl niece

This morning at about 5 Brent and I were woke up by a text from Dan (normally we don't leave our phones on, but obvioulsy we have been recently). Not really sure what was happening I groggily reached for my phone...

Kali's water broke at 2 a.m. and they were at the hospital! We were expecting to take our time this morning and head down to Nashville in the afternoon..but our plans changed!

Mom and Dad had driven to St. Louis last night, and God just knew everything was in place and told this sweet girl to get a move on it!

I am currently sitting in the room with her and listening to the baby's heartbeat and we are watching her contractions on the screen (epiderals are a gift from God!).

I will post pictures as soon as I can, and Dan has been frequently updating on her blog, so you can check that out too if you're interested.

She said she is feeling all your prayers. Dad has already given Dan a "fist bump," so we'll see how the day unfolds. The sun has come out, the rain has gone away, and all we have to do is wait (well, except Kali. She has a little more to do I suppose!)

a nerve

Last night, I was tucked into bed with my new book, had my lamp on and my alarm clock set. My teeth were brushed and I had had my bathroom break and drink of water. I was calming down for the night when it happened.

An unsuspecting Brent walked in our room and tossed his book and a pen on the bed while he changed. I glanced over and noticed it was not just any pen: it was my "bible pen." It was my pen specifically and intentionally left in the spine of my bible for use when necessary (there is nothing quite like not having a pen when you need it). It did not take long between realizing it was my bible pen and Mt. Vesuvius erupting.

What? You may be asking. Well, at this point, I too, realize I have a problem, and that Brent had hit a nerve I didn't necessarily know I had.

Conversation:

Kelsey: Umm...are you kidding me? Is this the pen you're using?
Brent: uh, yeah. ???
Kelsey: I don't think so. This is the pen thAT BELONGS IN MY BIBLE!! (volume increasing) Did you take this FROM MY BIBLE?!
Brent: I guess so.
Kelsey: Well that's just PERFECT! ANOTHER pen of mine...GONE! I noticed last night you were using one of my black papermates... I had three of these in my classroom at the beginning of the year and now ALL OF THEM are MISSING!
Brent: [disbelieving laughter....] umm...[laughter]...what is happening right now? [laughter] Are you being for real?
Kelsey: YES I'm being "for real." My pens ALWAYS disappear and that pen better make it back in my bible IMMEDIATELY after you use it. And...... [thought processing begins..... ] WOAH! What just happened?
Brent: You just kind of freaked out on me about PENS!

So I had to process, and then explain to Brent my problem that, in that very moment, I realized I had.

As a teacher I cannot hold onto any writing utensils. Somehow they become public property. I intentionally have a canister of pencils on my desk: FREE PENCILS! TAKE A PENCIL!! EAT A PENCIL! LOSE A PENCIL!! Whatever... just so they don't take MY writing utensils. However, this doesn't seem to work. Somehow a student mistakes, "You can borrow/take a PENCIL from the SILVER CANISTER on the EDGE OF MY DESK," and translates that to, "Take ANYTHING you see in that GENERAL VICINITY that will serve your purpose and, please, take it! It's all yours!"

Now, I typically keep my very favorite pens in a drawer. Inevitably though, I will eventually need to USE these pens, and will carry them about the room as I happily attend to my little kleptomaniacal students and accidentally leave my prized possession on a desk. You would think my angelic thieves would bound up to my desk, pen in hand, and present me with my utensil. I would then embrace them, strike up the band, and pass out candy. This does not happen though; I think they eat them. Or participate in, horror of all horrors, another favorite middle school past time: tearing apart pens and watching them explode all over forefingers, jeans, shirts, and yesterday's incomplete homework. I think it is a ploy to be excused to the bathroom...so now when such deviant behavior occurs and the "May I use the restroom?" question is presented and I say, "no" and they begin their rebuttal, "But, you see, my pen expl...." I swiftly hand them a wet wipe and ask them to return to their seat. Maybe I have seen a pen's life end to early in this cruel manner one too many times. Maybe I'm cold hearted. Maybe I'm a little of both.

My pens also seem to disappear at staff meetings; we are asked to sign the sign-in sheet and the math teacher forgot her pen and asks to borrow mine and, before I know, it is whisked away by the art teacher, then the science teacher...into oblivion.

Sometimes, though I must admit very rarely, losing a pen is not so bad. When the lost pen is a pilot gel pen, or a bic, such pens that cause scratchy and uneven writing, my heart does not break. But when that pen is a purple papermate (or any colored papermate for that matter- see C & E for perfection), or uniball jetstream (which can apparently prevent check fraud because the ink cannot be removed), then it is an extreme loss and I throw ashes on my head and tear my clothing in lamentations.

There is just something about a pen that writes smoothly; a pen that doesn't blot the page or grab the paper; a pen that merely teams up with your hand and says, "Kelsey, don't work so hard. I will meet you half way. I will make your writing look just a bit neater than it actually is. I will pass on good tidings of great joy via ink."

I try to keep pens close. I try to be a good owner of such important possessions. Sometimes though, a pen's lifespan is out of my control. I know they are not that expensive and that I could just grab another pack... but now that this fear has grown inside me to the point of near insanity and leads to mild insomnia, I don't feel comfortable investing in and promising a new pack of purple papermates a long, lasting, and fulfilled life. I just can't promise this anymore. My lifestyle won't allow it. So I am left to scavenging. After the 3:30 bell rings I roam the deserted halls, picking up scattered pens with missing lids and half filled ink cartridges. These will do. But it will not evoke the emotions my previous counterparts were able to evoke.

Alas, this is the life of a teacher.

After trying to explain this logic to Brent, we laughed, and he put my bible pen back in its place.

So if you're ever in my neck of the woods and you ask to borrow a pen, please be warned. My mood may swiftly change if I see you place the beautiful utensil inside your purse.

baby j project

I told Kali that I would make a "name sign" for the baby's room. She sent me some samples of the fabric that they are using (my Grandma is making the bedding and curtains). I used the patterns on the fabric to help me choose my colors and design.

I had a lot of fun painting this. I usually enjoy painting canvases, but knowing who this one was for made it even better and I wanted it to be perfect!

I turned our table into my studio.

The finished project...well, until she is born and I know the name! I will then write her name in the yellow and present it to her. I'm sure she will love it. :)

close to home

I'm sure you've heard the phrase, "That hits close to home." Sometimes it is used when a joke that would normally be funny "hits someone too close to home," inevitably making the joke not only no longer funny but incredibly insensitive. Sometimes you hear it when someone is telling a touching or sad story, and the person next to you bursts into tears and you know that it has "hit close to home."

The other day I was in Borders (quite possibly one of the best places on earth) and literally stumbled upon a book titled "The Lost Continent," by Bill Bryson. I say I stumbled upon it, but I like to think that it called my name, like all good purchases do :). I read the cover and flipped through the pages, and although I couldn't quite bring myself to purchase it that night (A new book would have been an affair to those papers that were not yet graded and still needed my attention), I put it back on the shelf and whispered, "I will come back for you later."

And why was I so drawn to this book that I had never heard of, by an author I had either never heard of or couldn't remember ever hearing of? Well, three reasons:
1. The subtitle: "Travels in Small Town America." Small Town America being a place for which my heart often longs.
2. The cover has a faux coffee stain, as if Bryson wrote the book in a coffee shop in a small town diner.
and
3. The first lines of the book: "I come from Des Moines. Somebody had to." I was interested and flipped to page two and read, "You can always spot an Iowa man because he is wearing a baseball cap advertising John Deere or a feed company, and because the back of his neck has been lasered into deep crevices by years of driving a John Deere tractor back and forth in a blazing sun. His other distinguishing feature is that he looks ridiculous when he takes off his shirt because his neck and arms are chocolate brown and his torso is as white as a sow's belly. In Iowa it is called a farmer's tan and it is, I believe, a badge of distinction." And I knew I was hooked.

So today, as Brent went off to work, I packed up the last of my papers to grade and headed for Barnes and Noble (yes, this time I had to go to Barnes and Noble and felt as if I were cheating on Borders. Long story short, I needed to buy some books for my classroom and my school can clear purchase orders through B&N...alas, the cheating). I found the books I needed for my classroom and somehow ended up in the exact section that "The Lost Continent" was in. Interesting. Normally I stand around and debate whether or not I really need the book, or if I can defend my purchase of yet another book, or if the 10-15 dollars is really worth it. Today I just picked it up, keeping my whispered promise from days before.

I finished grading my papers (Hallelujah...ALL of them!), and, to quiet the frugal voices that were raising in my head over the purchase of my book, decided not to purchase a coffee in the store and begin reading there. Instead, I packed up my items, gently tucked my new book by my side, and headed back home where I made some iced coffee and muffins and then sat down to enjoy the fresh-smelling pages of my new purchase.I made it through the first chapter and decided I had to write this. Maybe I should have titled this: A girl, A book, and the Love Affair. I decided on "close to home" because, although I got a kick out of his Iowa descriptions and connected on a certain level with them, as I turned the pages I had both of the "close to home" sensations mentioned at the beginning of this post. As I read his words it was a joke that almost wasn't funny because it was so personal, but I found myself literally laughing out loud on my couch in my empty apartment; however, at the same time it was touching in a way that almost made me want to cry (OH to be a writer that stirs up those emotions!). What were these words that hit me so "close to home," you may be asking?

It may not seem like much to you, but they were actually about previous family vacations. Even though this is already a little lengthy, I have to share some of what I read. If you are a member of my family or have heard of my family's vacations you may laugh, and if you haven't you may wonder:

From "The Last Continent" by Bill Bryson

" On vacations my father was a man obsessed. His principal obsession was with trying to economize. He always took us to the crummiest hotels and motor lodges and to the kind of roadside eating houses where they only washed the dishes weekly.... But even that was a relative treat. Usually we were forced to picnic by the side of the road... and it was always incredibly windy the moment we stopped, so that my mother spent the whole of lunchtime chasing paper plates over an area of about an acre. My father invested $19.98 in a portable gas stove that took an hour to assemble before each use and was so wildly temperamental that we children were always ordered to stand well back when it was being lit. This always proved unnecessary, however, because the stove would flicker to life only for a few seconds before puttering out, and my father would spend many hours turning it this way and that to keep it out of the wind, simultaneously addressing it in a low, agitated tone normally associated with the chronically insane. All the while... my sister and I would implore him to take us someplace with air-conditioning, linen tablecloths and ice cubes clinking in glasses of clear water. "Dad," we would beg, "you're a successful man. You make a good living. Take us to a Howard Johnson's." .... And after [having eaten]...we would mistakenly turn off the main highway and get lost and end up in some no-hope hamlet with a name like Draino, Indiana, or Tapwater, Missouri, and get a room in the only hotel in town, the sort of run-down place where if you wanted to watch TV it meant you had to sit in the lobby and share a cracked leatherette sofa with an old man... .... After a week or so of this kind of searing torment, we would fetch up some blue and glinting sweep of lake or sea in a bowl of pine-clad mountains...and it would all almost be worth it. .. "
and later

".... From time to time I would pass a sign that said HISTORICAL MARKER AHEAD, but I didn't stop. There are thousands of historical markers all over America and they are always dull. I know this for a fact because my father stopped at every one of them. He would pull the car up to them and read them aloud to us, even when we asked him not to... You knew before you got there that they were going to be boring because if they had been even remotely interesting somebody would have set up a hamburger stand and sold souvenirs. But Dad thrived on them and would never fail to be impressed. After reading them to us he would say in an admiring tone, "Well, I'll be darned," and then without fail would pull back onto the highway into the path of an oncoming truck, which would honk furiously and shed part of its load as it swerved past us. "Yes, that was really very interesting," he would add reflectively, unaware that he had just about killed us all."

This book is going to occupy me and humor me and fill me with beautiful moments of my past. I'm sorry for those of you who do not get excited about books in this way and have a hard time understanding my joy in finding a great new book (but mostly I'm sorry you don't get excited about books!).

And before I go, lest you think I am bitter, I must add this:

Dad, THANK YOU for taking me on trips like this. I would not be who I am without the portable gas stove dinners you served on rocks all over Montana and Wyoming and Virginia. I would not have the stories to tell had we not "gone off the beaten path" a time or two (or three or fifteen) and stayed in those motels where leaves floated in the pool and owners set up the breakfast "buffet" while holding their poodles. I would not know so many facts or have seen (or claimed to have seen) so many "wagon ruts" had we not stopped at those famous brown signs. Not many people can say they have been to Gettysburg and Fort Laramie and Scott's Bluff and Stonewall Jackson's home and Monticello and The Museum of the Fur Trade and the new Lewis and Clark interpretive center and...many more, but Kali and I proudly can! I know we always begged to go somewhere that "normal" people went, but ya know what, I went to Disneyland this summer, and I think you knew something Kali and I didn't know all along when we were begging. So although we like to make fun of you and these trips at times, we know how blessed we are to have slept under the stars and fly fished in the rivers and walked the battlefields. And thank you.

(And I hope you know this still excludes that trip to Montana ;)Last family vacation. Musuem of the Fur Trade.

I'll let you know if I find any more treasures in this book. Now if you don't mind, I have a new friend to get back to :)

And sorry if I'm on blog overload for writing 2 posts in one day.

these are a few of my favorite things

Today is Saturday. Here in "Kentuckiana" (and have I mentioned just how much I absolutely HATE that term? ) it is a beautiful day, almost too warm to have the a.c. turned off, but not quite. Birds chirping, light breeze, cicadas buzzing (we have a lot of those here apparently), and well, you get the picture.

I have already made lunch, set out the items needed to make our favorite "Nathan" muffins, showered, graded a few papers, balanced our checkbook, and done a load of laundry. Why all the productivity? I have absolutely NO idea.

Today as I was opening the windows to let in the light and breeze, I was reminded how much I absolutely love late summer weather. Normally, where I'm from this came in mid August, but I don't mind it happening in September. I've always said the perfect temperature is a sunny 73 degrees with a light breeze. Perfection.

This got me thinking about a few of my other favorite things. For some reason though, I was first distracted by the list that popped into my head of my least favorite things:

- having 42 cents left on a gift card to Starbucks and not feeling like I can use it because I'll be spending more of my own money than is necessary, but also knowing that otherwise that 42 cents will go to waste
- balancing my checkbook and being off by roughly 15 cents or so. What the heck?! And spending half an hour figuring our I wrote 12 instead of 21 or something equally ridiculous
- not quite having enough whites to justify doing a white only load
- places that make husbands work on Saturdays when their wives are home (PS update on Brent's job situation: waiting to hear from church, in meantime took job at Dick's Sporting Goods)
- turning on the radio and hearing the last little bit of a news story and really wishing I had heard the rest of it

... you get the picture.

Luckily though I was able to bypass the negative and came up with a few of my favorite things:

- getting a phone call yesterday that said, "We're on the way to the hospital to meet Beth and Eli!" (No more news yet)
- Sitting in a coffee shop with a new book purchase and cracking the spine to read the first few pages
- having a half an hour to take my time in the shower
- getting to that last paper after the first 105 are graded
- having a clean house
- Brent's cologne
- knowing how to spell the word cologne
- long conversations with old friends who have kept in touch
- waking up without an alarm clock
- this song by Sara Groves that I can't listen to without getting goosebumps and tears and excitement (and in particular these two beautiful/powerful lines: "I see the slave awaken to the value of her soul..." and "I see the young girl huddled on the brothel floor; I see the man with a passion come and kicking down that door..." ) Take the 4 minutes to listen to it!
- chocolate raspberry mocha (Seattle's Best)
- Burt's Bees chapstick
- My camera

and of course

- brown paper packages tied up in string.

(If you felt like this was a pointless post, it probably was unless you watched the Sara Groves video)

waiting

Three day weekends are a beautiful thing. It means an extra night of stay-up-as-late-as-you-want and actually enjoying Sunday evening instead of dreading the next morning.

This past weekend was particularly good for me. There were several reasons why. One was finishing grading two giant stacks of papers that had been taunting me for awhile (unfortunately I still have one huge stack left, but the taunting is growing more faint). Another was having our good friends come back to visit. We hadn't seen them for about a month, and they came down Sunday evening for supper and left yesterday around 5. We literally sat down to eat around 7 on Sunday night and didn't leave the table until about midnight (we cleared it to played Nertz...). Friendships are beautiful things.

The other reason this weekend was a good weekend was because Brent and I were able to spend a lot of time together, and talk about some fears/anxieties/hopes for our future. We decided we would go down to the "trendy" part of Louisville Saturday evening, walk around, maybe snap a few pictures, and then end up at a coffee shop. Well, what happened was more like this: drive down town, stress out about finding a parking spot, lock purse in trunk, walk 1 and a half blocks, take a picture of a cool church, be approached my a crazy man who quickly became hostile, return to car, get the heck out of dodge. The guy left us alone, but we both just didn't want to be there anymore. So we drove to a more sane (albeit less "trendy" whatever that means) part of town and hung out in Borders. I love that place. I love Seattle's Best Coffee (more than Starbucks...shock! I know). So we browsed some books and then shared a strawberry smoothie drink and began to talk. Crazy man in downtown was a perfect transition for my thoughts: Brent, I don't want to be here anymore.Picture of above mentioned church. Didn't have a lot of time to adjust settings
and get a great picture because of above mentioned crazy man.

Long story short, we talked about our future which, funny enough, we thought would be here by now. Isn't that ironic that our future is still out there? We talked about big picture dreams we still have and desire, about seeking God in all of this, and ultimately in continually serving God while we wait. Regardless of what is to come, we realize how much this time of waiting and being somewhere like this is shaping us, and we want to soak up what we're supposed to while we're here.

The next day at church we looked at the sermon titled, "Saying Yes to God When You Have to Wait." Perfect. Funny how that happens, huh? During the sermon our pastor said, "There is something that happens in waiting that is essential to becoming. What happens to us while we're waiting is often more important than what we're waiting for." It was such a beautiful affirmation for Brent and me. And then we wrapped it up with the song, "I will serve you while I'm waiting..." (which Kali also wrote about, which is fascinating in and of itself since I already had thoughts written down about what I wanted to blog about).

So no matter what you are waiting for, may you find the beauty that is God's waiting room. Even if you feel you are waiting in silence, or your appointment should have been an hour ago, God is faithful. And how you wait for God makes a big difference in how you see God.

Please continue to pray for Brent and I in this time of waiting. And if you want to check out the sermon: http://www.southeastchristian.org/sermons/?id=808

Thanks, Mom!

My mom mailed me this shirt recently: Missouri State Highway Patrol.

I told Brent I wanted to take a picture with me in it to send my parents. He snapped away. So mom and dad, and whoever else happens upon this, here is how I would have modeled it for you if you had been here:








Thanks Mom (and Dad!)

humor

A few funny moments I want to document/share before I forget them:

Situation 1:
Student approaches me before class. I am standing just outside my door welcoming students like I do everyday. He stands directly in the doorway and begins telling me that his leg is really hurting him (completely oblivious to students trying to enter the classroom). He informs me he has tried ice and Tylenol but nothing seems to help. After about 2 minutes, I say, "Well, you're not really going to be running laps in my class today, so why don't you have a seat and we'll see how it feels in a bit."

Fast forward 10 minutes: Student approaches me again, "It really hurts. It even hurts when I'm sitting down." Me: "Why don't you go to the nurse." (Even though we've been informed not to send kids to the nurse unless they are puking or bleeding, since we have so many sick students currently. At this point though, I throw protocol out the window.)

Fast forward about 3 minutes (yep, the nurse has obviously dealt with this kid before): Student returns and has a seat.

Fast forward about 5 minutes: I'm walking around room while students are participating in stations. I enter the 5 foot radius of this student and he begins talking, "Man. I don't know what I did to my leg. It's so weird. I really want to be able to run track but........." I nod my head sympathetically and move on.

Fast forward about 8 minutes: I walk past once more. "Oh man [rubbing upper thigh], I really hope it's not broken." Me: "I think you'll be alright."

(Update: This was Monday. He hasn't mentioned his leg since (nor is he in a wheelchair). 8th graders!)

Situation 2:
Student walks into Social Studies looking upset, with head hanging.

Jeremy (teacher) asks: "What's up with you, man?"

Student: "Puberty." Proceeds to seat. End of discussion.

I've got a lot of grading done this weekend, so far. Tonight I hope to put it away and spend some time with Brent. Tomorrow our good friends, Meagan and Shane, are going to come hang out and spend the night and Monday with us. Will blog more later. (Brent is sling free in 6 days!)

Happy Anniversary!

Today is a special day. Not only is it opening day of dove season back home, but it is an important anniversary for 4 of the most important people in my life. That's right-- 4:

Mom and Dad, happy 30th!

Beck and Joan, happy 40th!

For those of you that don't know, Brent's parents and my parents were married on the same day, 10 years apart! We discovered this early in our dating years and I think it's such a unique and great thing to share.

And now a note to our parents:

The day we said "I do" we were able to do so confidently because of the hands that were being held on both sides of the aisle. Thank you both for raising us within the boundaries of true Christian marriages where we learned how to love hard and fight fair. Thank you for giving us the best gift we could ask for: examples of marriages that work. Our friends often tell us we are the only couple they know in which both sets of parents are still married. I inform them that not only are both our parents married, but they still love each other deeply. Because of Christ and your hard work, we are able to share in this rich legacy.

Instead of congratulations: THANK YOU! From the bottom of our hearts.