But today we continue our study in Developmental Psychology. Here in Dev Psych 102, we explore the limits of control.

I only have practical experience in raising children below the age of 6. By the time I have hands-on knowledge of each new age and phase, it’s far too late for our two oldest Arnold Girls, in the same way it’s too late to avoid a train once it’s run you over.

So I read a lot, hoping to find wisdom and help for each new stage or phase or seismic shift that’s coming. In the process I’ve found a lot of conversations about control – and not losing it. Controlling attitudes. Control actions. Controlling your emotions. There’s even a behavioral adjustment system you can order that promises to “change your child’s attitude in 30 seconds or less.”

To be sure, the first years of life are all about control. In fact, the more in control of things like schedule and routine you can be, the better. Young human organisms crave stability, predictability, and regularity. When they begin to crawl, we control access to danger with various stages of baby-proofing – a sliding scale that runs from “putting hazardous things up high or behind locked doors” to “encasing your home in Nerf.”

But as the twins grew, with every major milestone I noticed an alarming trend; every new ability they gained eroded a little bit of my hard-won control. It starts innocently enough with the logical progression of physical maturity: a baby who learns to crawl is quickly converted from an uber-cute, cooing accessory that stays where you put her to the Amazing Baby Houdini, capable of disappearing around corners, out open doors, and under furniture in point five seconds flat.

Enter the baby gates. We created barricades worthy of any State Penitentiary with XT Play Yard panels. We permanently scarred the landscape of many a stairwell with iron and plastic bars, affixed with deep set screws. And we rested secure in the knowledge that we had reestablished control, that the inmates would not be able to escape their asylum.

Until that fateful night night when the tranquility and relative calm of the dead zone between kid bedtime and parent bedtime was shattered by the unmistakable “thud…brief silence…blood-curdling scream” all parents recognize instinctively: a two year old has scaled the walls of her crib and fallen out of bed.

The first time it happens is a watershed moment in the parenting journey. The doomsday scenario has commenced, and its unimaginable horror is upon us: they can get out of bed, and now they know it.

After a few more tumbles, it becomes obvious that mere wooden slats can no longer assure containment. Might as well convert over to the toddler bed. Soon, door handles will become accessible instruments. Tall counters will be summited with chairs and stacked boxes. Drawers will be pilfered like so many treasure chests. Toothbrushes, toys, cell phones, hands and feet will find their way into unsecured toilets. Floor pie will be eaten. Candy dish contents will be absconded with.

And one day, many months later – most likely during your eighteenth attempt to find a place to store scissors where no one can get to them – you hear a new word tumbling from the lips of your sweet cherub: “Why?”

As in, “Why can’t I cut my own hair?” “Why can’t I pick up the cat?” “Why can’t I have markers?” “Why can’t I wear the clothes I picked out?” (The answers, of course, in order are: “Because you’re not very good at it yet.” “He will try to tear your face off if you do.” “Because the guy at Home Depot said the paint we used in your room was washable, and he is a filthy liar.” “Because you picked out a swimsuit, and we are going to church.”

“Why” is actually a tough question to answer sometimes. It forces us to think through the rules we make and the answers we give. Sometimes our well crafted reasons are not quite enough to quell their doubts, and we have to resort to good old parent standbys like “you’ll understand later” and the ever popular “because.” and sometimes all I can get out is “I love you. You’re just going to have to trust me.”

When the “whys” start, something else has also begun. It’s the ticking of a timer, whose ending bell will signal that fateful day when we hug and kiss and send them off one last time to college, or a wedding, or their first apartment as adults. It’s countdown will be punctuated by a thousand other moments, large and small, when we will let go just a little more. First school. First overnighter. First drive. First date (over my dead body, of course).

Like last Fall, when we put the twins on the bus and sent them off to Kindergarten.

We can control a lot for a long time. But not everything. And not forever. From imploring them to stay in their big girl beds all night (and not wander the house) to teaching them how to make wise choices away from home, we are in the process of removing the guard rails bit by bit, day by day, until one day they stand on their own.

When we moved into our current house, the inspector had me crawl under the floor to take a look. There were large round pilings, part of the foundation. They were covered in tattered, mildewed cardboard. He explained that these were the forms used to pour the concrete, and workers had forgotten to remove them. “You should take these off. They’re not doing anything except rotting.”

I’m praying I recognize when I need to hold on and when to let go. And I’m hoping that will happen long before my rules become rotting forms that aren’t doing anyone any good.

I know the Arnold Girls are my gift for a season – to love and nurture, to teach and release. And with every new bed – and all the other firsts – I am learning to trust that the God who gave them to me in the first place is more than able to keep, protect, shelter, and guide them through their whole lives. He never sleeps; he never slumbers. They are safe in His arms. So I commit em to His keeping.

I was getting a haircut. The hair-cutter lady was telling me about her three young daughters. One in particular she described as having a strong will, stubborn streak, and “an attitude on herrrrrrrr…”. She said “I do my best to control her, but sometimes I don’t know what to do.”

I thought for a minute and suddenly found my inner monologue falling out my lips. I said, “I’m not sure you can control her strong will. You can correct her behavior and channel that strong personality into something positive. You can control her actions, but her strength of will is part of who she is.”

That’s the guts of it to me – parenting as a person-building task, not a fight for control. The insecure need to control leads to manipulation and open war. Faith gives us the ability to concentrate on building character and to trust Hod for the moments they are be ruined our control.

At least I think so now. I’ll get back to you when the twins turn 13…

A Brief Recap
For those who have no idea what I am talking about, last summer I auditioned in Seattle for the game show “Who Wants to be a Millionaire.” I passed the test and interviews and received notice that I had made the contestant pool. In August I was selected to be on the show. Stacey and I flew to New York at our own expense and taped my episode in September. The episode aired last night.

If you leave out the actual game, it was a great experience. My game play, however, was a complete,  unqualified disaster. The new version of Millionaire shuffles the difficulty levels and dollar values ($100-$25,000) for the first ten questions. This means you could get the hardest question and it may only be worth $100 . If you walk away before question 10, you keep half of the money you have won answering questions up to that point. Lifelines are ‘Jump the Question’ (2 of these) and ‘Ask the Audience’. If you jump a question, you don’t have to answer, but you lose whatever dollar value the question is worth. Oh -- and you don’t know the values until you answer. I jumped two questions early on. The first was worth $25,000, the next worth $15,000. That was pretty much the end. I ran up against an iPad question (more on that later) and asked the audience. They were more or less evenly divided on all four answers. I took a guess, betting against the audience and risking my paltry $12,600 bank. I was wrong. 35% of the audience was right. Instead of $6,300 (half the bank), I got the consolation prize of $1,000. Subtract travel expenses for three days in Manhattan and I came out of the thing in the hole. Game show fail!

Why I Tried Out
Short version: I made a promise.

We have been blessed with four girls. They are a daily reminder of God’s grace, provision, and power, since we weren’t supposed to be able to have any children at all. We spent tens of thousands of dollars on doctors to have the first three. Then we were done. But God has a sense of humor, and He decided we were not. Against all odds, Stacey turned up pregnant again. Sitting in the ultrasound room, looking at the first images of Arnold baby #4, I heard the words “it’s a girl!” AGAIN. When the doctor left the room, the weight of it all settled in. Four girls. Endless dresses and shoes. Four weddings. Four college educations. I blurted out, “How are we going to be able to afford to take care of four girls?”. “Well,” Stacey shot back, “you’ll just have to try out for ‘Who Wants to Be a Millionaire!’” I made a promise. “If they ever have tryouts in Seattle, I’ll go.” Our hope was to make up some of the money we spent on doctors that ordinarily would have gone into savings (it’s averaged almost as much every month as my mortgage payment for the last five years).

A few months later (and just weeks after Ella was born), Millionaire did indeed hold auditions in downtown Seattle, not far from where I work. I figured there would be long lines, so I showed up at 3am to make sure I got a spot of the 7 am auditions. I was third in line. Seems I may have overestimated the early risers . By the audition time, however, there was a decent line-up of folk. The audition process was fun and interesting, and I met a lot of fascinating fellow contestant hopefuls in line and at the testing. After passing a Scantron test, I was invited back for an interview. After that interview, I was invited back for an on-camera interview, then another on-camera interview. And the rest you know.

We decided before I even tried out that anything we won would go immediately into long-term investment accounts for each of the girls. I’ve always believed in working hard, saving, providing as best I can for my family and trusting God for the rest. I don’t play the Lotto every week or spend the rent money at the casino to try to make a quick buck. I have a great job and a good income, but this was a unique opportunity to get a head start on the hundreds of thousands we need to put aside to give the girls a good start in life.  So I went for it!

The Trip
‘Millionaire’ tapes in New York City, a block from Central Park. Thanks to some good friends, we were able to leave all four girls in safe surroundings and pretend we were newlyweds on a vacation to Manhattan for a few days in September. The weather was perfect -- 65 and sunny every day. We stayed downtown within walking distance of Central Park, Times Square, and tons more. We bought passes for the Gray Line open top bus tours. With those, we could go pretty much anywhere in the city a tourist would want to on buses that left every ten minutes or so. We went to Brooklyn, Washington Square Park, Greenwich Village, Empire State Building, Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island, Ground Zero (New Yorkers get mad when you call it that -- it’s now “the World Trade Center site”) and had the best hot dogs of our lifetimes at Gray’s Papaya. It was a truly wonderful experience. Stacey had never been to NYC, and I had only been once before on a brief business trip, so it was really a dream come true for us.

The Taping
Taping a game show is a crazy experience. The team at ‘Millionaire’ was great, explaining everything very well and taking good care of us throughout. My fellow contestants were great folk, and I am pulling for them all to win a lot of cash. They were all truly deserving! It was also the most stressful thing I have ever done. Most of the actual taping felt like an out of body experience. I was dizzy, light-headed, and freaked out. I didn’t remember a lot of what I had said until I saw it again on TV. To answer a few questions I keep getting asked in rapid succession: Yes, Meredith is super-nice. She even sent a hand-written thank you note after the show -- a class act all the way. No, they do not pay for travel. Yes, it costs a lot to go to New York and I lost money on the deal. Yes, they do tape an entire week of shows in a day. And it’s fast -- the commercial breaks are pretty much real time.

My Game
It was basically over four questions in, though I hung around for a couple more. I have to say I don’t think nerves or stress contributed to my demise. I just hit three questions I did not know the answer to. I think the first was the hardest question before the randomization. It was a Roman numeral question about a certain numeral with a line over it. I know very little about Roman numerals. So little, in fact, that I didn’t even know you could HAVE a Roman numeral with a line over it. I doubted the audience would give me convincing help on that one. So I jumped it. It was worth $25,000. Ugh.

Then I hit a question about the Irish slang phrase “Witch’s knickers.” I had read a trivia book before the show that had an extensive section on slang terms. From that, I know that “German tea” is beer. I know that a “Turkish medal” means your fly is down. And I know that “blowing the grampus” describes the tradition of throwing a bucket of cold water on a sailor that fell asleep while on watch. But I had never even heard the phrase “witch’s knickers”, and none of the answers seemed to have anything to do with pants. So I jumped. And lost $15,000. Double ugh.

At this point, a little math is in order. In the new version of ‘Millionaire’, if you answered all 10 of the first questions correctly, your bank would be $68,600. If you walk at any point, you get to keep half. Having lost $40,000 on two questions, my best-case scenario was to bank $28,600 (and walk away with $14,300), unless I got into the second round. Before the game, I had decided in my head that, once out of lifelines, I would walk away on any question I was not absolutely sure of as long as I would walk away with at least $10,000. That was my “walk away threshold.” For those who are thinking “hey -- $6,300 (the highest amount I could have walked with at this point) is a lot of money”, I agree. It is considerably more than I would plop down for a single pull of a slot machine.  It is a year-altering payday. It is a fun vacation or a car down-payment. But it’s not life-altering cash. I can plan a way to save up six grand, even if it takes a few years. But $100,000 is an entirely different matter. And you have to keep taxes in mind -- a big payout can stick you in a whole new tax bracket. The rule of thumb is that you’ll be giving at least a third, up to 1/2 back to Uncle Sam. I had these facts squarely in focus. When I lost the $15,000, I knew I was pretty much going to have to keep guessing and risk it all to try to get into round two.

The iPad Question
Which leads us to the last question (paraphrased): “A digital version of what children’s book was included with the iPad?”

This question is dripping with irony. For one, it is well-known I am a techie and electronics junkie. I work on websites and mobile device applications for a living. But it gets even better. I hadn’t mentioned it to Stacey yet, but a few weeks before going to Millionaire, I had decided to get an iPad. We were working on a number of iOS projects at my company, and I decided it was time to have one to play with. But that week, I got the $3,000 bill for Ella’s c-section and decided to shelve that idea for awhile. Maybe for Christmas, I thought. Or if I do really well on Millionaire. Even crazier than that, I had an iPad in my hands 10 hours before flying out to New York. We had a big iOS project to estimate, and my taping date had been moved up three days, which meant I would be out of town and unable to help with the estimate. I offered to work on it over the weekend. My boss met me in Bellevue and loaned me the company iPad. I spent four hours on Sunday afternoon mapping an application and building the estimate. When I was finished, I thought: “I should check out the e-reader on this thing and see how it is.” I am NOT exaggerating or making this up -- believe me, it is too embarrassing. I was curious how it compared to my wife’s Kindle. Had I opened it, I would have seen the only book in the library on the device -- Winnie the Pooh. But (and again, no exaggeration) I said to myself “no, you don’t have time to play. You are flying out early tomorrow and have to get everything ready.” So I closed the iPad and drove to meet a co-worker and drop it off. If only…

But again, by this point in the game my odds of making the next round were pretty low. I was out of lifelines and separated from the second round by a few more potentially tough questions. I didn’t know the answer. So I asked the audience. 35% said Winnie the Pooh. The other three answers were evenly divided. If you’ve ever watched ‘Millionaire’, you know this is no help at all.I should also point out a little known fact: in the studio, the audience is close. I could hear a hundred tiny conversations all throughout the game. And I heard a LOT of wrong answers, even on questions I got right. Winnie the Pooh sounded wrong to me. The Velveteen Rabbit sounded right, maybe because it is one of my all-time favorites. Before I saw the four answers, I was thinking “Where the Wild Things Are”, so I truly had no clue. In hindsight, I should have listened to the audience, but hey -- I took a leap and went down in a blaze of glory!

The Aftermath
I’ve had a lot of time to think about all this, so I’m pretty philosophical about it all now. I know I am going to get a lot of well-deserved grief for losing on a techie question,  so I’ve prepared my pithy responses -- do your worst !  But I have to say that the initial aftermath was pretty heinous. I was overcome with the sense that I had let everybody down -- my girls, my wife, my family and all my friends who were excited I was going to be on the show. I was horrified at the thought of everyone watching me crash and burn on national TV. Most of all, I was depressed that I wouldn’t be able to tell the girls “hey -- your wedding and college is covered.”  I after a long plane ride, jetlag, very little sleep, an early call time (7am) and a long day of meetings, waivers, and lawyers leading up to the taping, I was pretty raw and defenseless, and I collapsed into a puddle.

Lucky for me, I happened to be in New York with the greatest wife on the planet. Right before they took away our mobile phones, she sent this punctuation-free text: “Love you believe in you your a smart guy gonna do great don’t be stressed…this is all just bonus.” And after I failed miserably, her attitude was the same. “Hey -- we got to go to New York and the taping got done in one day, so we get an extra day of sightseeing.” She put up with my whining and occasional flashbacks over the next two days with grace and humor, pulling me out of my funk. I am the luckiest man alive.

Perspective
The day after the taping we visited the World Trade Center site. We all watched the terrorist attacks of 9/11 on TV, but it’s impossible to overstate the gravity and power of standing at the actual site. I can’t express it adequately in words, so I won’t try, except to tell this story: There is an ancient church nearby -- St. Paul’s Chapel. In the hours and days after the attacks, the people of the church sprang into action, converting their building into a sanctuary for rescue workers to rest, pray, even break down in tears. Many would work until the point of exhaustion, then stumble into the church for a few hours sleep, then head back into the rubble. The church is now a memorial, filled with photos of those days and the gripping human drama that unfolded there. I was overwhelmed by the sight and the story. Many years before, a branch of Jesus’ church had sprung up and endured, a barely two-story building, remaining static through the modernization of the city; an old-world structure in the shadow of the massive towers of the Space Age. Surviving because it was not just a building but a people, united in mission and purpose, planted on their corner, waiting patiently for their hour of grace. Who could have predicted that moment? Who could have known that little church was in the perfect spot to be a haven of rest in the midst of horror, terror and death?

I lit a candle there in honor of the fallen and the brave men and women who rushed into the burning towers. And I lit a candle to remind me of the powerful message of this place -- the Church being exactly what Jesus had prayed for -- one in spirit and purpose, a light in the darkest of nights. It occurred to me at that moment that I was profoundly blessed. Unlike so many that day, I was heading home the next day to hug my four miracle girls. My wife was by my side. And I would continue to have the opportunity to serve the same Body this congregation belonged to, to teach and share the same message of hope and grace. That candle seemed to burn away my disappointment. And I stopped feeling sorry for myself.

Here is the shaky, poor quality video I took there:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=oJIx6W7W9es

The End of the Matter
So no iPad for me, and I’m going to have to keep saving up for college and weddings a little at a time like everyone else. I’m setting up Washington State 529 plans for each of them this week. I can send you a coupon book if you’d like to donate . I am not writing this so anyone will feel sympathy for me -- no one should. I had a shot and I took it. I could say it seemed like everything conspired against me (the order of the questions, the actual questions, the iPad thing), but that would be sour grapes and entirely silly -- how can you be upset about such a random series of events? Plus I don’t believe in fate or luck. Everything has a purpose, even game show failures.  In the end, I am grateful. Out of thousands of people I was picked to be on the show. After 6 years of doctor visits, procedures, and babies, Stacey and I had a chance to spend three days together alone in the big city -- it was like a second honeymoon. We didn’t realize until then just how precious that kind of time can be. And in the grand scheme of life, I’ve lost nothing. Everything that matters is safe and secure and in God’s hands, not stored up on Earth but in Eternity.

A thousand thanks to everyone who helped watching the kids, helped us get to New York, the Millionaire team for the opportunity, and everyone who has shown interest in this journey. I hope at least it’s a fun story, and that maybe it encourages you to remember the things that are truly valuable. Love God, hug your kids, kiss your spouse, and if you get the chance to go play in New York for a few days under the guise of being on a game show, take it!

Anybody know how to get on Wheel of Fortune?

www.youtube.com/watch?v=xLwldqUUJS0

www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lk2Rs4yXyfU

www.youtube.com/watch?v=2NNBpM5TbsM

Disneyland was pure craziness and pure joy. Four is still more than three – especially while travelling. Lots of stories to tell about all that – from celebrity sightings to Ride Math. A special thanks to Jenn and Grandma and Grandpa Barsness and Aunt Rachel, without whom our sanity and our photos would be sorely lacking. More later this week!

Here’s a few more not in the feed…

Albert Einstein is famously reported to have explained the Theory of Relativity this way:

“Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute. THAT’S relativity.”

Relativity is key to making sense of the swirl that is life raising four girls under five. I’ve been keeping track of some practical applications of Einstein’s pithy saying over the past few months…

• To a toddler, three hours at Chuck E Cheese feels like five minutes. To a parent, five minutes at Chuck E Cheese feels like three hours. Also, Chuck E Cheese may be the modern gateway to the Underworld. Or at least Satan’s living room.
• Maya was “the baby” and seemed very tiny until Ella arrived. Then she seemed huge. And a lot older. And I started wondering why she wasn’t potty trained and dressing herself  and maybe getting her own apartment yet (she’s only 16 months, but still…).
• Ten years of waiting for the twins to arrive seemed like forever. The five years (this month) since we hear our first good news (“you’re pregnant!”) have gone by in a flash. One day I woke up and we were a family of six.
• Having two babies at once seemed like an insurmountable task. Now we sometimes talk about how simple things were back in the good old days, when we had only two kids to keep track of. Especially in the mall. Or at the park. Or in a restaurant. Or on a plane.
• I used to need at least eight hours of sleep to feel functional. Now if I get four or five uninterrupted, I get the sensation I’ve been Rip Van Winkled and may be waking up in a different century.

And maybe most of all, the smallest things are now the biggest victories. First smiles. First swims. First bites. First words. A lot of things that seemed mundane and ordinary are fresh and full of wonder. It’s like learning to live all over again – seeing the world with new eyes.

And that is relatively superb!

www.youtube.com/watch?v=4gf3FdkJTCU

I am often asked how different life is with four girls. Mostly I try for a witty comeback like “well, four is more than three.” To make amends for my snarkiness, I present these actual thoughts on the subject:

It’s not that big of a change around the house, provided we remember to keep the newborn out of the reach of Maya, the Long-Armed Toddler of Doom. She’s obsessed with the kid. Likes to crawl into the car seat with her and has added a fifth word to her vocabulary: Ella (she actually says “Erra”. I think she may be Chinese. Time will tell).

ONE
Going out is a bit more complicated. The diaper bag is burgeoning with two sizes of diapers and costume changes. There’s a lot of junk in the trunk (mostly two large all-terrain strollers – the kind they used on the Apollo moon landing I think). And Ella likes to toss her pacifier and screech like a wounded Predator about two minutes into any trip. This is like nails on a chalkboard to the twins. Something about a crying baby evokes a visceral response and overwhelming urge to nurture in the female types (“Mommy, can you help Ella to stop crying?”). Well, not Maya so much. She’s happy as a clam in the car, as long as we’re talking about the three minutes in every trip that Janae is not poking her or stealing her book. During the rest of the trip, we have two screechers. I am thankful for the Mickey Mouse portable DVD player strapped to the back of my headrest. I’m starting to really enjoy the Little Einsteins. Proof that my descent into madness has begun.

TWO
Vehicle options are narrowing rapidly. My Chevy Malibu, even fully crammed, can hold only 5/6 of the brood. The minivan is our only option for comprehensive troop transport. I’ve been looking at other possibilities, but I’m pretty much limited to a Humvee or one of those airport shuttle vans. Or a Dodge Sprinter (which is basically an airport shuttle van). This, of course, means I’m sticking with cheap American-made minivans. I have four college educations and four weddings to save up for, people.

THREE
We are noticing that the world seems to be unfairly prejudiced in favor of groups of four people. Vehicles, booths at restaurants, Family Packs of tickets to the Mariners, the list goes on. Go ahead – ask for a table for six with two high chairs at your favorite restaurant and see just how long it takes the host to work out THAT algebra. You could fly to Alaska, stalk, kill, dress, and cook your own moose in the time you’ll have on your hands in the lobby, desperately praying for the “your huge table is ready” pager to light up while attempting to keep the toddler from burning the place down. This is an ever so slight exaggeration, but this subtle discrimination (which I have dubbed “Fourism”) must be confronted and eradicated from our society. I’ll start the petition…

FOUR
Our home is teeming with life. Loud, messy, exuberant, joyful, tearful, beautiful, wonderful, precious life. We have gone from the desert of barrenness to overwhelming fruitfulness. God has transformed our home into living proof that He still hears, still answers, and still does miracles. We were very sure of this when we had only three girls. But He has left no doubt .

My gift to you for reading to the end? The first official pic of all four together. Enjoy!

For example: today I had to be reminded that some toddlers need their diapers duct-taped at nap time.

Most parents reading that sentence will chuckle. Most of us have been there. I have been there. So really I have no excuses and deserve no sympathy. I should have seen the tell-tale signs: Maya was increasingly more undressed every time we got her out of bed. Yesterday morning, she greeted me in only a diaper, holding her onesie aloft triumphantly, flashing a big cheesy grin as if to say “Mission Accomplished!” Cute, right? Maybe that’s why I didn’t hear the 50s sci-fi robot in my subconscious trying to warn me: “Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!” But I was to distracted by her adorableness to see the logical conclusion of this pattern of behavior. Only too late did I recall that Arnold Girls love a challenge, and  for Maya there was only one more disrobing mountain to climb.

Only the diaper was left.

You already know what happened. I will spare you the gory details. Let’s just say that she succeeded in getting the diaper off before she went to sleep. Sometime during that nap nature took it’s course. And apparently nature was angry. And Maya awoke. She is an artist at heart, it would seem, and something deep within led her to express her creativity with a display of finger-painting that has led me to nickname her “Poopcaso.”

A shower, and couple loads of laundry, a lot of disinfectant, one toy taken apart, and several rounds of Mom’s special stuffed animal cleansing method later, and we are almost back to normal. As I scrubbed and disassembled, a wave of deja vu swept over me, followed immediately by chagrin: I suddenly remembered I have done this dance before. With the twins. Both of them. We tried a lot of things to solve it. We finally had to go all “Red Green” on ‘em: they could not defeat duct tape.

So Maya now has improvised industrial strength diaper closures. If memory serves, the next step is climbing out of the crib. That should be a hoot with this one…

For now, I am thankful for small problems and a big family. And I’m taking some Ginko, cause I’ve really got to try to remember this stuff…

When Stacey was in college, one of her assignments was to go to Bellevue Square, watch children playing in the play area and write down observations. This is, of course, an assignment destined for disaster, especially if the student is a male and they happen to record some of their observations on a camera phone. “It’s for a school project” is an explanation likely to get you tackled by burly mall security guards.

But why risk the indignity of being taken down by rent-a-cops? Come on over to Arnold-ville, where you can observe four siblings in their native habitat! You can see a living example of just about every stage in your text book, all with in the space of an hour or two. For extra credit, you can take ‘em to a playground or feed them a meal and get even more learnin’ on.

Case in point: Middle Child Syndrome / New Baby Anxiety. Maya is no longer the baby. She’s coping fairly well, but yesterday she was trying out all the baby items in the house -- swing, car seat, pacifier. I got it on video (sort of -- see below), but seeing it live is oh so much more informative.

Or we could hire a film crew. If the recent documentary “Babies” is any indication, people love to sit in theaters and watch babies for two hours at eleven bucks a pop. Sure babies are cute, but they don’t really do that much. Add two preschoolers and a toddler -- now that’s entertainment! Of course, this sort of veers into the whole “Jon & Kate” / “Balloon Boy” opportunism, so maybe we should pull it back a bit, even though in the American psyche nothing says ‘I love my kids” more than a little exploitation (That was sarcasm, people. Cutting edge social commentary smothered in tasty ironic nougat).

Until the UW calls to set up their extension campus here, I will continue to document the developments for science and posterity. Think of me as your Dev. Psych. Jane Goodall, and this blog as “Toddlers in the Mist.” The mist, in this case, is the spray from the kitchen sink faucet one of them has gotten a hold of. Yipe! Gotta go!

www.youtube.com/watch?v=GKr8TlWew_A

Which brings me to the geometry problem. As you can see in the photo above, we have gone ahead with my ingenious plan to place the three older kids in the back seat. By so doing, we could keep one seat folded into the floor, providing ample space to crawl in and strap the nippers down as well as much needed cargo room for the weekly “half my paycheck” trips to Costco for pallets of milk, cereal, waffles, and diapers.

Today we tried it out on our first car ride as a family of six. It worked out splendiferously – the two boosters and Maya’s car seat can be crammed into that tiny bench – no room to spare, but it works. One caveat – the receiver end of the seat belts are now 4 inches into the tiny crevasse between car seats. Technically possible to reach, but you can get only one hand in there, and clicking in a seat belt is, oddly enough, difficult with one hand.

Not one to be foiled by something as simple as vehicle design, I have scoured the series of tubes we call the Internets for a solution (thank you, Mr. Gore, for your wonderful invention). I have found one, but I have mixed feelings about the depths to which I have sunk…

I now have a charge on my credit card from an online store called “More of Me To Love.”

Apparently these sorts of devices are not generally aimed at the car seat crowd. But I found exactly what I needed – an 8″ rigid seat belt extender that should put the receiver at exactly the right level – maybe high enough for the girls to buckle themselves. THAT would be a massive step forward!

I was thinking about the road Ella took into the world. It was by no means easy on Stacey (being pregnant while having three girls four and under already is no picnic). It was by no means simple -- having a baby never is. But the pregnancy, delivery, and postpartum hospital stay were, by all accounts, routine, unremarkable, and entirely normal.

This means something to us. Our first two pregnancies were far from normal. They began with medical assistance and were considered high risk the whole way through. Compared to Janae, Corinne, and Maya, Ella had:

• The longest gestation. The twins were born at 36 weeks, Maya at barely 37, Ella at 39.
• No jaundice, bili blankets, bili beds, or home photo therapy.
• Just over 48 hours in the hospital.
• No long term stay in Special Care Nursery.

Ella was conceived against all odds. No one thought it medically possible. Having her here is a one in a billion shot. Everyone who hears the story says “she is a miracle baby.” So true. Even more than you know. It is a miracle she was conceived. Her time in the womb was miraculous. Her birth and first few days have been astonishing.

All because they’ve been so ridiculously normal.

It makes me marvel and the goodness of God. The Bible always talks about “signs and wonders.” We know signs are to point to a specific truth, fact, or action item. But wonders? They are intended to leave us breathless and speechless at the beauty, power, and grace of our Father. And I am. We asked for a baby for a long time before the twins. I think God sent along this little wonder to remind us that He answered then, but is also able to do more than we could ever ask or imagine.

I am thankful for the miracle of normal.

Now a video of our “Wide-Eyed Wonder Girl.”

www.youtube.com/watch?v=tYJmQiTbsQU

…or maybe this afternoon. Ella was up all night again, and has finally gone to sleep. Gotta work on that whole night / day routine…

Good news – we are cleared to head home today! This will be our shortest hospital stay of all the pregnancies. Special thanks to Team Barsness for taking on the other three through today and to Team Barker for taking the home stretch – not sure what we would have done without you!

Ella is a great eater, which is a mixed blessing. All good for sure, but a bit exhausting for Mom. We never really experienced the full-blown “marathon feeding” with the others – pretty crazy. She wanted to eat every 30 minutes or so. Her bilirubin levels are normal so far, which means no home phototherapy for jaundice – also a first for an Arnold Girl! Now Mom and baby are sleeping and I am packing up. Should get some final tests going and final paperwork, then home sweet home! I figured out how to get at least one good picture in low light with Stacey’s fancy-dancy camera. Here it is:

Talk to you when we get home…

I finally got the photos from yesterday posted on Flickr and here on the site. Here are a couple – and here is the link:

http://arnoldgirls.net/photo-feeds/ella/

Share on Facebook ]]> http://arnoldgirls.net/2010/06/13/family-visit-photos/feed/ 1 http://arnoldgirls.net/2010/06/13/enter-ella/ http://arnoldgirls.net/2010/06/13/enter-ella/#comments Sun, 13 Jun 2010 01:33:49 +0000 Jon http://arnoldgirls.net/?p=429 We are officially a family of six! I will be signing up for Brad and Leah Fox’s next class on “How to Survive Four Young Children.” I have been trying to post an update all day but it’s been chaotic -- it always is. Here’s the rundown:

5:30 am. Alarm goes off. I shoot alarm with .44 Magnum. In my head. In real life, I drag my sorry carcass out of bed. Ugh.

6:30 am. Stacey’s Mom arrives to take over twins and Maya duties for a few days. Thanks Grandma!

7:30 am. We arrive at the hospital and get checked in. We learn that despite my assurances to the contrary, the c-section is scheduled for 9:15, not 9am. I still think I was right. Its the rest of the world that got it wrong.

9:10 am. We head to the OR. When we arrive, we are told there is an emergent case before us and we will be delayed. We head back to our room for another hour.

10:10 am. Back to the OR. For reals this time. Stacey gets a spinal anesthetic. It doesn’t take. It has to be redone a second time.

10:47 am. Ella is born! There was much rejoicing. Yaaaaay. She is 7 lbs 8 oz (our biggest baby yet). She is 20″ long. Apgar is 8/9. She is having a bit of trouble breathing. After seeing that her sats drop into the 80s on room air, the special care nurse is recalled. She decides to take her up to the Special Care Nursery.

I must stop here to elaborate. The twins were both in SCN, which is one step below the NICU, but comes with a lot of the same restrictions. They were there four days. The SCN is way at the other end of the building from the normal patient rooms. Mom doesn’t get to see baby until she can get up and walking. And once you are in SCN, there is a long checklist to get out. We were very much praying she would be able to breathe better soon and avoid all that.

The first phase in SCN is a four hour observation period. After that, she is admitted. I kept running back and forth between Stacey’s room and Ella’s room to keep up with it (deja vu all over again). She was getting better and better. On my final trip over, I found the nurse giving her a bath and preparing to feed her -- a very good sign! She was able to eat (suck, swallow, breathe -- the first thing you learn in life) and pinked up after the bath. I should rephrase -- the bath made her angry, so she screamed and turned red all over. Just like Corinne. And Maya.

So somewhere in the 3:30 range Ella got to come over to Mom’s room. We’re all together now! Ella is starting to nurse, and Mom is stoked to have her close. All is well in babyland.

Just after we got Ella moved in Stacey’s brother and sister-in-law and their three kids came by, followed immediately by Grandma, Grandpa, Aunt Rachel, and Ella’s sisters Janae, Corinne, and Maya. At one point we had 6 children running around the waiting room, and got a stern, well-deserved talking to from the nurse on duty. It was great seeing everyone, and perfect timing for everyone to come by and welcome Ella. Janae and Corinne got to hold their new baby sister and give her presents. Quotes of the day from the twins:

Janae: Mommy, why are you just laying there so much?

Corinne: Mommy, now that Ella is out of your tummy can you go to Disneyland and ride roller coasters with us?

Things are mellow now at 6:30 pm. Ella is getting some Mom time and had a great first feeding. Dad is getting some blogging time. All is right with the world . Here is the only video I’ve gotten uploaded as yet. The rest and a slew of photos coming soon. Maybe after I get a nap. Or some coffee. Decisions, decisions.

Thanks to everyone who called, stopped by, texted, and Facebooked -- your prayers and well wishes are a great support to us.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=_2FBSAb-Xh8

From our combined Father’s Day / Grandpa’s Birthday Celebration. Special thanks to Rachel-B, who serves as the official family photographer. Amazing shots!

Needed some content for the front page, so I thought I would re-post my own post. That should fill up the space ’til I get the swimming videos edited…

Here are some posts (with excerpts) I have done about our journey becoming a family of six:

A Consistent Ethic of Life

As I prepare to share the story of how our family came to be this Sunday at Redwood Hills, I am thinking about one of the main questions we get asked a lot: are fertility treatments consistent with Christian ethics (or more like “are Christians allowed to do that kind of thing?”)? It’s a great question, and one we have spent plenty of time wrestling with. I won’t have time to go into any detail on Sunday, so I thought I would blog it here for you three readers (yes, we are up to three now ). Let me first lay some ground rules.

This is not the Law from Heaven on fertility treatments. It’s also not my attempt to help you circumvent the process of wrestling with this question. If you are facing it, you need to. To me this is not a political issue or a morality tale, it’s simply an intensely personal choice we had to apply our faith to. We hope we got it right. We did our homework. We prayed for wisdom. We believe we were heard.

Read More…

The amniocentesis showed the lungs were not quite ready for prime time, so a few more days of waiting til we get to see her. Stay tuned…