Last Moments

It's the last few hours of my baby's baby-hood. I had no idea I'd be so emotional about it. Went in to peek at her before I went to bed (my nightly ritual). I am always amazed at the positions I find her in...to me they are contortionist moves, to her they must be comfortable, as she is snoozing away. Tonight I found her basically where I left her, on her tummy, blanket still on. I put her to bed with her little stuffed puppy for the first time and when I peeked at her, 3.5 hours after I put her down, one arm was wrapped firmly around Puppy, her head resting on the stuffed one. I felt super-glued to the side of the crib, unable to stop staring at her. So sweet, that image of baby and little girl wrapped up in one. I honestly hope that this is the image that sticks in my head 17 or 30 years from now, when I look at her as an adult and reminisce about the days of babyhood.

Tomorrow, it's one year. 365 days of her and us.

Bun #2

Well, I figured since a friend commented on my last post that I'd be getting baby fever again that perhaps I should finally just put it out there. A little unexpected for us, but we are excited nonetheless!! Given how long it took for Peanut to come along, we weren't thinking #2 was anywhere close. My friend Megs calls it "the little ovary that could", given that only one side works!!

Oh, and the date was only a guesstimate on our part, as I wasn't paying attention to cycles. So we had an ultrasound and based on the size of the babe at that time, it's Jan 24. It was a relief to see that it was only one babe in there and that the heart was beating. It really only looked like a head and a torso, but we could see little arm and leg buds wiggling around, but they're so short and stubby that it made me giggle. It's amazing that a little person who is only 1.3 inches long and weighs less than an ounce could move that much, turn over, have a heartbeat, and wave its limbs at us. Human development, esp. fetal development, is FASCINATING.

Rounding up on a Year

I realized today that we are 2.5 weeks away from having a one year old and I found myself verklempt at the idea that she is no longer my baby. The last few weeks have been pivotal in her development and it's made me realize that she is quickly moving into toddler-hood and independence. Her baby toys have been cast aside for toys that stack, sort, open and close, make music, or that she can stand next to. As of this week, she is crawling everywhere (versus army crawling), she pulls herself up to standing, if I ask her to get books so that I can read to her, she'll go pick some out and bring them to me. It's so fun to watch, but it hit me this morning that we are so far beyond the point of complete dependence on me. In one year, she moved from being a tiny little person who could only eat, sleep, and poop and needed help for anything and everything she did and now into a person who plays by herself, feeds herself, knows how to use a sippy cup, moves around independently, can recognize sounds, people, etc. (Heck, that's a lot to learn in a year. When was the last time I learned that much in one year? Nursing school?) I got all weepy realizing that she is never going to be that tiny little baby again. Ah. Motherly hormones.

On a Night Like Tonight

Sitting outside on a sultry summery evening, listening to the birds, swaying in the canvas swing that hangs from our giant maple tree as I type this, taking in the smells and sights of our little piece of urban yard, and all I can think is "All is well on a night like this." There's something about this weather and evening-time that makes me forget the bills, the bits of food that are stuck to the dining room floor (why don't we have a dog??), even the projects that I forever list out in my head when I look around the yard. I get nostalgic in weather like this: for the times of running around with my sisters catching fireflies in jars, for the evenings on my grandparents' farm when we'd all hang out on the porch and look over the wheat fields and pastures that surrounded their white house, for the walks with my husband around the neighborhood at dusk, for the evenings of sitting on the back steps of the Xerxes house with Em and sipping a Blue Moon, for the glory days just out of college when my girlies and I had our first apartments in the city and we'd sit out on our amazing balcony and talk about the things we were going to do with our lives (interspersed with a lot of boy talk).

Sigh.

For me, there is really nothing so sweet as an evening, a great sunset, warm weather, and guilt-free wiling away the time.

Resolve

We are in St Louis for a long weekend to visit some of Snugs' old college and post-college friends. We flew with Peanut for the first time and she did so well. Pretty sure that she was just excited to have our undivided attention for the 1.5 hrs of the flight.
Having a kid with us on a "vacation" changes everything! Normally we'd be out non-stop, packing our days full of time with friends and checking out fun things in the city. Now our day consists of quickly seeing people between naps and then back home for the evening by 7:30 or 8 for bedtime. We've learned with our little kiddo that keeping her naps and bed somewhat on schedule is necessary, otherwise she turns into a whining, wailing mess. Prior to having kids, I was determined that my child would conform their schedule to mine and that we could maintain our busy social life even with a little one in tow. HA!! I can say with much humility that I was wrong!
We're fortunate enough to stay with some friends down here, thus making our trip that much more cost-friendly. These are friends from Snugs' old church down here and wonderful, hospitable people. They have a 6 year old girl, whose favorite past-times this weekend have been talking Snugs' ear off and chasing Peanut around with toys, and a 2 year old boy, who is a holy terror, to put it nicely. Part of the problem is that he's a very energetic kid and the other part is that I have yet to see a single bit of discipline instituted by the parents. I mean, we are talking throwing giant basketballs around the living room, running up and smacking his sister fully in the chest with hardly a blink of the eye by the parents, full-out screaming bloody murder at bedtime, and getting up and running around the restaurant at dinner. It gives me a knot in my stomach to watch it all. I know it's not my battle to fight and I have no business saying anything about it, so I'll say my piece here. I know that I was raised in a fairly strict home and not everyone else was, but it's amazing that parents lack the ability to look at their kids' behavior and wonder if maybe their child rules the roost instead of the parents. Is it a result of kids being in day care full time and therefore the parents don't have the time or energy at the end of the day to discipline? Is it just parenting style that the adults have decided on? Is it because parents are too absorbed in the computer/iPhone/TV in front of them to pay attention to their child's behavior? (Note: as I am typing this, the 2 year old is running circles around the kitchen at 9:30 pm, playing with toys, instead of being in bed, because he threw a GIANT blood-curdling screaming fit and his mom just let him not go to bed yet. Yeah, because he just re-learned the fact that if he throws a tantrum, then mom gives in. And while he's creating chaos in the kitchen, mom is checking her email and saying "Honey, do you really need to do that?")
All of this just hardens my resolves (is that the right terminology?) to be a parent who creates boundaries and adheres to them. While I know that my little Peanut is a very well-behaved and mild-mannered baby, she will hit the terrible twos at some point and will test the boundaries that we will have hopefully carefully and mindfully created to help her understand authority and that some behaviors just are not ok.
I know I shouldn't be hard on the people who have graciously opened their home to us, but I need to get this out!! I am appalled. The other thing that has me cringing during this stint is the CONSTANT use of the TV. We watch very little TV at home, we don't have cable/satellite/DVR, and we are extremely content with this plan. Here, it is on at ALL times. There hasn't been a single moment when it's been off, except when they are gone. The TV is on the instant they are home and the kitchen/dining/living rooms are all centered around the giant screen. Kids eat in front of it, dad watched TV while playing on the computer while the kids are running around whacking each other, and it's a constant source of noise. I think we saw at least 6 hours of Nickelodeon/Disney/PBS channels this morning.
Again, this just hardens my resolve... to have kids who know the joys of playing outside, having space to run around and use their imaginations, to learn about nature, to love reading, to be at the zoo or museums or parks, and to understand that TV and movies are exceptions to their daily routine and not the norm. I grew up liking the cartoons and shows of my day, so don't think I grew up without a TV, but it was a small part of my day and all of the things I want my kids to know about are the things that filled my days. I know that Snugs had a similar experience growing up and I am SO very thankful for a man who doesn't veg in front of the TV the second he gets home and then watch ESPN all day Saturday. We always joke about how that would have been a deal-breaker for me and there's no way we'd be together if he was like that.
OK, I have said my piece. It's off to bed in the room we're sharing with Laila and I know she'll be awake at 6 or so, making funny little happy sounds when she realizes that her fingernails make scratching sounds on the side of the pack 'n' play. So cute!

Forward...

I normally am not a huge fan of sappy email forwards. But this one struck me as more profound than most. I feel as if I am cheating by just cutting and pasting someone else's words for a blog entry, but someone else managed to say it better than I can.

Invisible Mother... It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?' Obviously not; no one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible.. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more! Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this?? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.' Some days I'm a crystal ball; 'Where's my other sock?, Where's my phone?, What's for dinner?' I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history, music and literature -but now, they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, she's gone!? One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England . She had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when she turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.' It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe . I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: 'With admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.' In the days ahead I would read - no, devoured - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: 1) No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. 2) These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. 3) They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. 4) The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything. A story of legend in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof, No one will ever see it And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.' I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, no Cub Scout meeting, no last minute errand is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree. When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for 3 hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, he'd say, 'You're gonna love it there...' As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible mothers.

Funny, Sad, True

This post was on a friend's Facebook update. It made me snicker. It's also way too true about the nature of our modern worship in churches. I'm not saying that people who write them aren't genuine, but it does make you wonder about the depth of our spirituality.

http://www.theblazingcenter.com/2010/05/how-to-write-an-awful-worship-song.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed:%20TheBlazingCenter%20(The%20Blazing%20Center)&utm_content=Google%20Reader