The Comeback King

He's quick. He's witty. He can crack my hard shell of frustration with one well-placed reply. Toby is the Eby household's new Comeback King.

He has heard me frequently advise the girls that their loud, repetitive noises or their overly boisterous songs are "annoying." Then, one day in the car I turned the radio on to my favorite music and I heard him yell from behind me, "No, Mommy! That's annoying!" Just yesterday I greeted the girls with a good-morning song and Toby interrupted me again, "Stop it, Mommy! That's annoying!"

He hates when I tell him to stay out of my way, so when I insisted that he turn the wooden spoon back over to Mommy while we were making pancakes together he protested, "No! No, Mommy! Bad, Mommy!"  I sighed, "Toby, just let me stir my pancakes." To which he snapped, "Just let me stir my pancakes, Mommy!" Then, seeing that I wasn't giving in, he sat down in his chair, folded his arms over his chest, stuck out his bottom lip, and pouted, "Bad Mommy. Makes my sad!"

Toby's quick to tell us when the conversation is over his head. Hannah looked at the calendar yesterday and remarked that July was almost over. He scowled disapprovingly at her, "July? Don't know what that means!" We giggled at him, but no one offered an explanation, so he sat and mulled it over. An hour or so later, when we were discussing the day's plans he confidently inserted, "Tomorrow we gonna go to the July!"

Last night, while Matt was putting the girls in bed, Toby came downstairs to use the potty then found me working to organize some stored food in the basement. It was a dirty job and his insistent attempts to stack the canned goods five-high then knock them over, were wearing down my patience. When he stole my broom and attempted to sweep the walls I grabbed at the broom angrily and ordered him, "Upstairs! Enough, Toby! You need to go back upstairs to bed right now!" He looked at me as if he was annoyed, but pitied me and remarked on his way back up the stairs, "You have too many kids."

Five minutes later, as I came up the stairs, I saw Toby was waiting for me in the kitchen. His cheery nature had revived and he happily greeted me with, "Hey, I recognize you!"

I was still chuckling when I tucked him in bed late last night. Toby wasn't tired. He and Naomi and Hannah stayed up gabbing away with each other about complete nonsense for far too long. Finally, I put my head in the door and warned them that it was late and they needed to quiet down. Toby protested, "But we're talking!"

"You've been talking all day, Toby," I answered, "and you'll talk all day tomorrow, I'm sure. Let's give it a short rest."

He is back at it today, greeting my vacuum cleaner with, "Hi, Mrs. Vacuum, do you need a haircut?" and chasing Hannah and Emma around the house yelling, "I'm a slave trader!" To which Hannah is screaming, "Run, Lucy! Run! Isn't it dreadful? We must run for Narnia!" A short rest it was.

Sunday School Streaker

"What in the world?" Matt laughed on Saturday evening as Toby ran naked through the kitchen.

"I have to go potty!" Toby yelled back urgently.

I raised my eyebrows to Matt and shrugged my shoulders, "He has to go potty. It's his third day of potty training. Who cares if he takes his pants off before he gets to the bathroom? We'll work on the proper order of things later."

Toby was doing amazingly well to have the physical ability, mental know-how, and desire to perform so well so soon after having been introduced to the potty. I wasn't about to make things more complicated for him. Silly Matt, what does it matter, anyway?

Sunday morning our small church family was gathered together for an all-ages Sunday School class, as we often do during the summer. The kids didn't mind joining the adults since we were watching a movie about the life of Gladys Alyward, a missionary to China.

Partway through, the leader paused the movie and asked if I would read a passage from a biography that described how Gladys was asked to intervene in a prison riot. I began to read the tense narrative, but suddenly choked on my words when my peripheral vision caught sight of my son. He had stripped off his navy blue shorts and his pink princess pull-up and was on his way to the bathroom on the other side of the room. "Um...Matt!" I tried to whisper discreetly.

Matt quickly scooped up the half-naked Toby and walked briskly to the bathroom, explaining, "Sorry, we've been working on potty training at our house." A quiet chuckle swept through the room, and I continued reading, but the laughter welled up inside me, and snuck out a couple of times.

OK, so maybe Matt had a point. Day five of potty training will include instruction in the proper order of pottying. Hopefully he'll have it down before we have to venture into public again.

County Fair

It was hot and humid. A large part of me wanted to continue hiding in our air conditioned house, but Toby's pleas to "go bye-bye!" finally prodded me to action. He didn't care where we went at all; he just needed action, and though the girls were less vocal, I knew they needed a dose of fresh air and excitement too.  So last evening, as the temperature was holding steady in the low 80s and the humidity was climbing, I gathered up the supplies, the stroller, a reluctant husband, and four children giddy with excitement, and off we drove to the county fair.

"Are you guys excited to see some animals?" I asked, turning around in my seat so I could see their glowing faces. "Toby, do you want to see some cows, and horses, and pigs?"

"Yeah!" Toby squealed, "and dinosaurs!" This sent all three girls into giggles, which greatly pleased Toby.

The parking attendants corralled us to the far south end of the grassy field. We were a little annoyed as we loaded up the double stroller and headed to a gate we hadn't used before, but we were rewarded when we walked in and found a young girls' 4H riding competition underway. Some of the girls weren't much older than Naomi, and she was spellbound watching them guide their horses around the arena. We stood at the fence, with the horses trotting by a few feet away. We talked about how the girls used the reins to control their horse, and Hannah had to remark that the white horse wearing the hot-pink socks and hot-pink bridle was "so pretty."

Next up was the dairy barn, where a teenage girl let us pet her small, brown cow with huge, wondering eyes. Toby was very brave until the cow lifted her gentle head to stare him in the face. "It's not gonna bite Toby," he whispered, reassuring himself. The swine barn was full of enormous, squealing pigs with wet, snarffling snouts. The goat barn held curious goats that stood on the rails of their pens and leaned their heads over to nibble our clothing. "Look, Naomi," I joked, motioning to the goats lined up at the fences to see us, "the goats think the fair is for people watching."

 

Matt's brother, Philip, joined up with us, and Emma glowed as she held Uncle Phil's hand and walked bravely through the barns. "Are you Uncle Phil's girl, Emma?" I asked. She smiled and answered shyly, "Yeah."

We wondered at the funny looks of the llamas in the yellow tent. Hannah laughed, "They look like they belong in Narnia."

Matt agreed, "If they had a human head they'd look just like a centaur."

We admired the long, floppy ears and the soft fur in the bunny barn. We laughed at the strange feathers and jerky walk of the roosters as they crowed. We saw turkeys, and ducks, and geese. We petted lambs and peered into an incubator of baby chicks. There was a litter of day-old piglets all snuffling and snarfing to find their place at their mother's belly. There was four-week old colt of a miniature horse. And then there were the rows and rows of antique tractors. Toby got the chance to drive one before we saw the sign that read, "Please stay off the tractors!"

After a round of hand-sanitizer, water bottles, and gluten-free snacks from the diaper bag, we headed to the carnival. The rides were far too expensive to ride, but the kids enjoyed just watching the excitement. The music blared, the lights flashed in the dusky sky, and the people around us screamed with thrill. We stood quietly, just mesmerized with the sights and sounds. We wandered among the rows of carnival games, listening to the men call our their winners, and admiring the larger-than-life prizes they offered. "Look at that banana!" Naomi said. I brought her back to reality by asking her, "But what would you do with a banana that's bigger than you?"

The sky was dark as we made our way back towards the gate, three hours later, but there was one more stop I wanted to make. The draft horse barn was filled with the most heart-stopping giants that the fair offered. Enormous Belgian horses, weighing over 2000 lbs, towered over us and leaned their awe-inspiring heads down to inspect us as we passed by. "Look at their hooves!" I urged Hannah, pointing to the hard, glossy feet the size of Toby's chest.

Hannah agreed, "Those could sure squish a Toby!"

Naomi's pace slowed and she began to complain as we trudged back to the entrance, but the sight of the horse competition ring all lit up under the dark sky quickened her pace to a gallop. We stood by the fence one more time, admiring the girls and their horses, and then it was time to leave.

"Did you like the fair?" I asked Hannah as we passed the quiet trailers and made our way through the rows of cars.

"I still like it!" Hannah insisted, with her usual desire not to let the fun die, "I like the lightning bugs and the street lights and our shadows on the ground."

The girls were drifting to sleep as we drove the quiet county roads on our way home, but Toby's eyes still glowed with excitement. "We saw all those horses!" he reminded me when I turned to smile at him.

"Yes," I agreed, "and cows, and goats, and bunnies, and sheep...Which animal do you like best?"

Toby didn't hesitate one second. "Tigers!" he yelled.

Maybe a trip to the zoo needs to find its way to our August calendar, but the Fair must have been a close second.

Potty Training Mommy

I've potty trained three girls, and none of those were pretty experiences. So when Toby began wanting to use the potty I tried to deter him. In my experience, starting early only means more months of cleaning up messes. But Toby has been so persistent in de-robing himself and putting himself on the toilet that, when a three-week break in appointments appeared in my schedule starting yesterday, I decided to give it a go.

I lined up paper towels and various disinfectants; I gave a pep-talk to the girls about being good helpers and a pep-talk to Toby about being a big boy now; and then I let him run in the buff on our tiled floor. Not long into the adventure he started to pee and, to my amazement, stopped himself mid-stream and looked at me with wide eyes. "You're peeing," I instructed Toby, "You need to do that in the potty. Here, come sit down. Put it in the potty now." And I nearly fainted when he actually followed instructions. That has been nearly the end of teaching Toby how to pee in the potty. He's a peeing pro already, with 95% average accuracy by his second day of training. Oh, if only it were so easy with that second bodily function.

The main problem with Toby's grand success yesterday was that I hadn't been prepared for it. With him performing so well I couldn't put him back in diapers, but I hadn't yet bought any little boys underwear for him. The poor child ended up in pink panties, and with his love of girls shoes, he looked like a full-blown cross-dresser by the time Matt arrived home from work. Fortunately, a quick run to Wal-Mart remedied that with some very manly Thomas the Train underwear. Toby was pleased to wear the same kind of underwear as his four-year-old cousin, and I went to sleep wondering why I hadn't trained this boy sooner. Today I was reminded.

It had been going too well. Toby had even made some decent attempts at putting his poop in the potty yesterday. Some mess is par for the course, so I was encouraged with his efforts. But today an unforeseen evil, far beyond anyone's control, an insidious evil, determined to undo my efforts, has crept into the intestines and underpants of nearly every child in my house: diarrhea.

There had been signs of this menace before I started potty training: some tummy aches, some loose stools; but today this growling bull-dog has suddenly sprouted seven heads, latched them all onto my jugular vein, and begun sucking every ounce of potty training ambition out of my blood. I fear it may not let up until all four of my children are again wearing diapers.

Toby started today with two self-led potty stops and sparkling clean Thomas underpants to prove it. So when he walked wide-eyed and stiff-legged into my office with a brown trail behind him I tried to take it in stride. "Did you have an accident?" I asked, in my most understanding voice. I coached him on the warning signs and the appropriate placement of such materials while I scrubbed him down and wiped up his trail. An hour later, in an attempt to obey my instructions he fled to his potty, brown trail following; swiped down his underpants, smearing all the way; and smashed his already coated behind all over the potty seat. I stood, breathing deeply, trying to remind myself that this was a good sign.

"Oh, did you go poopy again?" I asked sweetly, "Well, thank you for trying to get to the potty..."

"I oop in the potty!" Toby announced proudly, standing up quickly and pointing the the milliliter of brown liquid that had dripped in the proper place.

"Toby, sit down!" I barked, then, regaining composure, "you sure tried, didn't you? But you did get your underwear all messy (and your entire lower half, and the floor, and the potty...)"

"Can I have one Skittle?" Toby bargained, knowing he didn't deserve the usual three. And this was only the beginning. Shortly after I had bathed Toby for the second time and re-scrubbed underwear, potty, and floor, Toby began to pester his sisters. They responded by closing the door to their room in an attempt to keep him out. This, because of a history of finger-pinching along with its generally rude nature, is against house rules, as they well know. Toby, attempting to break into the room, accidentally pushed the sliding lock on the antique door-knob to the side, locking the girls in their room. Once they realized their plight they began frantically screaming, and once I realized that they had received just punishment (or what we often term "a life spanking") for their actions, I dawdled before freeing them from prison.

After listening to their screams for a minute I slowly made my way up the stairs, and finally unlocked their door. I raised my eyebrows to them with a confident "I told you so" look and began my speech, "Did Toby lock you in your room? Maybe that's what you deserve for closing the door on him..."

Hannah interrupted me with a pained look on her tear-stained face, "But Mommy," she cried, "I had to go potty...and I pooped in my underwear." Suddenly, I no longer felt victorious. Round three of diarrhea clean-up ensued.

I was more than anxious to put Toby down for his nap this afternoon, securely wearing a disposable pull-up. (Never mind that it was covered in Disney Princesses.) I calmed my nerves with half a cup of coffee and went downstairs to load my washing machine with infectious material. Before the washing machine was started Hannah called down to me, "Mommy! Emma just pooped in her underwear!" And I began to see the lighter side: hey, at least I hadn't started the load of wash yet.

Soon after Emma was cleaned up, Naomi and Hannah were engaged in a battle over who needed the potty worse, and I actually heard myself yelling, "Naomi if you don't hurry and get off the potty, and if she poops in her underwear, you're washing it! I'm done!"

My washing machine is doing overtime this afternoon, I am nearly out of paper towels, and my nose has started bleeding from the smell of bleach in this house. (I'm sure this isn't the best for the baby, but then again, catching a diarrhea virus wouldn't be all that beneficial for it either.) I am determined not to lose the ground I've gained in this potty-training war. I can handle this. All it takes is a plan.

"OK, anyone who is about to pee or poop in their pants line up here, in line A! Good, now anyone who has recently peed their pants here, in line B! And anyone trailing brown behind them, you're in line C! OK, line A, on the potty now! Line B into the tub, leave your pants at the hamper! Line C, don't move, don't touch anything! I'll be right with you. And line A, watch where you step!"

Nothing too it. I can handle this. How long can this virus last anyway? I just hope I don't pass out before it does.

Sharing Stories, Sharing Hope

I want to thank all those who have stopped by my blog in the last two weeks to read "A Letter to a Mother Considering Terminating a Pregnancy for ARPKD". Thank you to those who have posted this letter to your blogs as well, and to all who have taken the time to leave comments of hope and encouragement to me. I didn't expect this letter to reach thousands on the Internet, it was intended for one mother, but God works in ways very mysterious to us.

Sadly, I heard yesterday that the mother I had written this letter to did decide to terminate her pregnancy. Clearly, we hold different worldviews, and my letter could not change that. My hope is that others who have read my letter have been strengthened in their faith, and that God may use my words to soften the heart of another mother out there.

To my amazement, one non-profit organization called "Hunter's Hope" also contacted me to let me know that my letter touched their hearts. This organization was founded by NFL hall-of-fame quarterback Jim Kelly and his wife Jill after their son, Hunter, was diagnosed with a degenerative terminal illness. They have encouraged my heart by sending me an autographed copy of their book "Without a Word: How a Boy's Unspoken Love Changed Everything." So, in turn, I want to commend their story and their book to others who would like to read the tear-jerking, heart-warming account of their journey in faith through the life and death of their son.

Here is a clip from Jim and Jill Kelly's recent appearance on Fox News:



There is joy in sharing our stories, encouraging each other on our journeys, and bringing hope to those who follow behind us.

As a Father Has Compassion...

The perinatologist watched intently as the ultrasound technician measured each detail of our baby's brain and spine. I wished they'd move straight to the kidneys, but it seems these come near last in the long order of the anatomical survey. He questioned Matt and I about our previous pregnancies, wanting to know exactly what we were watching for today.

"Well, our son showed only one kidney at twenty weeks," I explained, turning my head away from the screen to talk to him, "and two of our daughters showed echogenic (bright) kidneys at twenty weeks."

I would have delved into more detail, but he interrupted me, and in one casual comment erased weeks of worry. "Well, there are your baby's kidneys right there," he shrugged, "and they look fine to me."

Reluctant to let my guard down, I questioned him further, "So you can see both kidneys? And they're normal sized? And they don't look echogenic? And the amniotic fluid level is normal?" He smiled and assured me that all looked perfectly healthy, but that they'd see me again in eight weeks to be sure. "I think you ought to leave here feeling pretty good today," he concluded. I looked back to the sweet, peaceful face of our baby on that screen and breathed a huge sigh of relief.

God has granted us a fifth child, our second son, who seems to be in perfect health. We could never take that for granted. We could not feel more blessed. Thank you to those who have stood by our side and upheld our family before him in prayer. And now, it's time to praise him.

Psalm 103

 ¹ Praise the LORD, my soul;
   all my inmost being, praise his holy name.
² Praise the LORD, my soul,
   and forget not all his benefits—
³ who forgives all your sins
   and heals all your diseases,
⁴ who redeems your life from the pit
   and crowns you with love and compassion,
⁵ who satisfies your desires with good things
   so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s...
⁸ ...The LORD is compassionate and gracious,
   slow to anger, abounding in love.
⁹ He will not always accuse,
   nor will he harbor his anger forever;
¹⁰ he does not treat us as our sins deserve
   or repay us according to our iniquities.
¹¹ For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
   so great is his love for those who fear him;
¹² as far as the east is from the west,
   so far has he removed our transgressions from us.
 ¹³ As a father has compassion on his children,
   so the LORD has compassion on those who fear him;
¹⁴ for he knows how we are formed,
   he remembers that we are dust.
¹⁵ The life of mortals is like grass,
   they flourish like a flower of the field;
¹⁶ the wind blows over it and it is gone,
   and its place remembers it no more.
¹⁷ But from everlasting to everlasting
   the LORD’s love is with those who fear him,
   and his righteousness with their children’s children—
¹⁸ with those who keep his covenant
   and remember to obey his precepts.

What Tomorrow Holds

Little Baby,

Tomorrow the world will decide
Whether you are worthy of life
They will use their best instruments
To painstakingly measure
Each tiny feature of your forming body

They will compare what they find
With the millions of others they've studied
They will make their best educated predictions
As to how long and in what way
You would live on this earth

And they will base the value they assign to you
On the numbers they have gathered
They will advise me to keep you alive
If they predict that you will live a long life,
Feel little pain, and cause me little discomfort

They will advise me to end your life as soon as possible
If they predict that you would not live to a full life expectancy,
That you may have to endure suffering,
Or that it may difficult for me to walk beside you
As you struggle through your life

Little Baby,
Tomorrow I will love you
As I have loved you today
Tomorrow I will protect you
As I have protected you
Since the day you were sent to me

Perhaps I will breathe a sigh of relief
When the medical experts predict
A long healthy life for you
And an easy, predictable road for me

But if they deem you unworthy of life
If they advise me that you would prefer not to live
And that the world would benefit
From not having to meet the challenges
Your unique life would present it
I will fight for you

I will fight for you
Because life's value is more than an equation
Than can be computed from the days of life
One is predicted to live
And the degree of hardship they are predicted to face

I will fight for you
Because my love for you is not founded
On what you can offer to me
Because love does not recoil at the prospect of pain
Or abandon when another suffers

I will fight for you
Because ending your life early
Would rob you of the chance
To see the sun's rays peeking
Between the ominous clouds
To learn the blessing of enduring
When everyone tells you to give up
To know the peace of resting in warm arms
That would not leave you in your darkest hour

I will fight for you
Because the world may not know that it needs you
But I know

They have forgotten that life without trials
Brings laziness, discontentment, and self-centered greed
They have forgotten that in giving ourselves
For the helpless, the hopeless, the defenseless and innocent
We learn patience, endurance, thankfulness, and selfless love
In laying down our own hopes, and sacrificing ourselves
We find greater joy than our own dreams
Could ever have brought us
I learned this when I fought for your sisters' lives
And I pray that I can teach them as I fight for yours

Little Baby,
Tomorrow we only learn their best guess
As to what sort of life we will share
But I promise our ways will not part
Until the hands that placed you in my safe arms
Reach down to lift you back to His