Iron (wo)Man. Or Not.

I realized the other day, as we were sitting in our Sunday School class, that I have never taken my husband's shirts to get dry cleaned.  I know, I lose points for not paying 100% attention in church of all places, but I couldn't help it.  There we sat in a room full of people and almost all of the men had beautifully ironed and starched shirts.  The kind you could tell had been pressed by one of those industrial pressers, not the iron-at-home-kind.

This is a Dry Cleaning Press. Beautiful, isn't it?

I began to go around the room and take note that these men, whose shirts alone made them look like they could run for a seat in the Senate, must have good wives.  "Oh!," I thought to myself upon looking at one particular fellow, "he must have a good wife.   I can just tell she cares."  I guess it's a woman thing.  I don't know. But that was my thought.  And I looked back at my husband, sitting next to me clueless as to what pointless thoughts were swirling in my brain, and my smile waned. I realized that not once in over 8 years of marriage had it even occurred to me that my man might like a nicely ironed shirt.  Not everyday, mind you.  We don't have one of those money trees growing in our backyard.  But perhaps every once in a while?  Maybe he too, like me, would appreciate the complete disappearance of any unwelcome wrinkles or creases in his shirts.

And again, I looked at Ryan, the one who still takes my breath away every day, and I felt a little sorry that he'd gotten stuck with me and my cleaning abilities, or lack thereof.  A gal who, even on my best days, can't iron a lick, and relies almost entirely on my dryer to get rid of those stubborn wrinkles.  That's right.  I am the kinda gal who will dampen a wrinkled shirt and stick it in the dryer with a towel or two.  Phew...feels good to finally admit that.  (Did anyone else just hear my mom start crying? Sorry mom.  This is not your fault. You tried.)  Can I also admit that the iron comes out in 911 cases only?  It does.  Emergencies only. Here she is. My iron:

But, to give myself a little credit, I also realized as I was sitting there that this man I married could truly care less. It's just not who he is.  And because his job requires him to wear jeans and get dirty most days, ironed shirts are definitely not at the top of his priority list.  Clean socks? Now that's a different story.  That is priority numero uno.

And so, sitting there in Sunday School, I reconciled within myself that I was, in fact, not the worst wife ever to grace this world.

And then I looked down and saw the stark white socks my husband was wearing with his black dress pants and black dress shoes.  I realized immediately that I had forgotten to do the dark laundry and my husband was forced to wear the white socks.  I am grateful that he could care less about things like that.  I, on the other hand, feel like this is a direct reflection on me.  I sank a little lower in my seat at this moment.

So, as soon as church was out, I promptly went home and did laundry.  I also took a few of his shirts to get dry cleaned.  Because that's also the kind of gal I am.

Please notice the ironed shirt he is wearing.

I think he still likes me.  

Trying For The Girl?

I should have seen it coming. I should have realized that it usually happens around your child's first birthday that people start asking the famous question: "so, are y'all gonna have more?"  Although, in our case, the question has now lovingly been rephrased to, "so, are y'all gonna try for the girl?"

Before I get any farther, let me give a "solid answer" to those wondering about the future of our family: the jury is still out on babe #4.  Honestly, this is more so because my husband needs to wrap his brain around the idea of a fourth child.  Not just to love and nurture.  But to feed and clothe and insure and feed and send to college and feed.  (Did I already mention that last one? It's a big one around here because I have gradually, or not so gradually, watched our grocery budget extend to more than twice what it used to be when it was just the hubs and me.  Sometimes, when I get the odd chance to go to the grocery store alone, I stand in the aisle and wonder, hopefully not out loud, how in the world our 3 boys eat as much as they do.  You might be thinking that one of those 3 boys is a mere baby so he probably isn't eating all that much.  Let me go ahead and nip that thought process in the bud.  Seth eats.  Oh, how eats.  Can I get an amen from other moms of boys?  You know exactly the feelings of which  I speak).

Anyways, it isn't just the cost of another child that has my husband (and me) teetering back and forth. It's the fact that chances are we will have another boy.  The odds are against us in the whole "trying for a girl" process.  So the question isn't "are you going to try for the girl?"  The real question is "are you okay with trying for a girl but more than likely ending up with another Friesen boy?"

Do you see that? Those three beautiful faces? How, I ask you, could I not be okay with another boy?

Or course I'd be lying if I said that having a girl has never crossed my mind (see my last post about my mom.)  Has there ever been a woman in existence who didn't want a daughter?  It's a hard thing to explain because, I truly believe, it's a God-given desire inside of us females.  And, fortunately for me, I have a husband who understands that, although I love our 3 boys, that feeling that "our family is complete" hasn't hit me yet.   I hear stories of women who do, in fact, try for the girl and end up with 9 boys (true story) or 13 boys (true story).   That, I can promise you, will NOT be me.  

So, where does that leave the Friesen five?  Ryan and I are not only considering having a 4th baby, but adopting a little girl.  It's something we've always talked about.  But after having Seth, the discussion became more serious.  It's something we are praying about these days.  Adoption is such a special thing because of our relationship to the Lord.  He adopted us into his family, as sons and daughters.  Not because we deserved it.  He did it out of love.  And there are so many little ones out there who need a home, who need love, who need an adopting family.  And love is something we are definitely not short on.  

The biggest thing I'd have to let go of, if we adopted a baby girl, is wanting to know what our biological daughter would have looked like.  So, thanks to the magic of the internet, I morphed a baby girl out of me and Ryan's faces.  Here she is:

And just because I had to know how accurate it was, I also morphed a boy baby.  Because I definitely know what our boy babies look like.  Here's how "he" came out:

That's not too bad, huh?  I thought it actually looked like Seth a bit.

So, to answer the question of today's blog:  We are not trying for the girl. Yet. We are praying. We are waiting.  We are doing one of the things that I am not very good at: being patient.