Covenant Child (number 2)

On August 7th, our small boy was baptized at our church.  People have lots of opinions on this and while we don't believe this is a sign of his salvation, we do believe that we, his parents, and the church make a covenant (with water) to point this little guy to Christ.  It was a sweet time with family and a small group of friends to celebrate.  Then later, at the service, we got to celebrate our covenant child, Judah with our family of believers.  (complete with gown that I made for him, in spite of Geek protests.  Sorry honey!  It's traditional, not girly.  I swear!) We love you, little guy!

By the way, these photos DID NOT happen on August 7th, but about a week later, after I had washed the sweet potato spit up out of his gown. Just so you don't go round thinkin' I'm on top of things.

"When You Find Yourself in the Thick of It...

Help yourself to a bit of what is all around you, silly girl."
~ Martha My Dear - by Paul McCartney credited to Lennon/McCartney

Words to live by in the crazy days of motherhood where I often find that all I can do is sit down in the middle of the floor and laugh.  Hold my sweet chubby little man up over my head and dodge the drool that comes flying out when he smiles.  Watch his two little teeth creep up his gum line, ready to pop out and my tiny baby boy becomes my big baby boy.  Crawl all over the floor with my girl in order to "teach" my wee son to crawl.  Laugh and giggle with my girl who thinks this is a very fun game and play a round of wrestling with the dog who thinks so too. 

To spend the morning baby naptimes in the window seat with my girl, stacks of library books, and the bright morning sunlight that every day grows more golden with the approach of Autumn.  To have big conversations about little things with little people who are trying so hard to put all the pieces of a complicated world into a picture that works for them.  To teach my little one to nap in the Ergo, so we aren't stuck home every morning for his marathon nap.  To each cherry tomatoes from the branches and wonder at my complete inability to cultivate anything but tomatoes and very misshapen and small cantaloupe. To write lists of things that may or may not ever get done.  To enjoy watching two little bugs take their evening bath and laugh and laugh at each other for reasons Mama is not privy to.  For breakfast together as a family, every morning.  Even if I have to cook it every morning.  For snuggles with my littles every night, while my wee man does his darndest to eat the pages of every book and my wee girl does her darndest to rescue said books from certain disaster.  For sweet little sleepy eye rubs and little yawns to tell me the day is done.  And an hour and a half with my love on the couch, watching a campy Jackie Chan movie. 

Yes, I will help myself to a bit of what is all around me.  Sweet family and choosing the gifts of today rather than living in all of the drama, mess, flooding, and craziness that has been going on this last week. 

My Man is a Motorcycle Man

So my sweet geek is looking less geeky these days.  Instead of a second car, I mentioned maybe he could get a motorcycle.  You should have seen his eyes get wide!  It was pretty cute.  Long story short, (which involved an older bike that couldn't be repaired and an intense learn to ride class) he chose this bike (and was officially certified to ride it!).  A Honda Shadow.

But I gotta tell you this.  I (plus kiddos) took him to pick it up for the first time and my man, who I already think is pretty handsome, climbed on that machine and the very first thought that went through my head was "That's pretty sexy."  Who knew?  I mean, I had seen motorcycle guys before and was never very impressed.  But something about my own sweet hubs on one...hot.  Now he rides it to work every day and I love to watch him pull out of the driveway, a man and his machine riding down our quiet street.

There is a good reason for this, and here it is.  I'm not gonna lie to you, my man is not the outdoorsy, rugged, camping type.  His idea of camping involves a cabin and showers.  I've always hoped his outdoorsy side would develop, but after seven years, chances are looking slim.  I mean, he has a rugged and manly beard, and if he has to, can build a great campfire, but it's not something he loves.  But this, riding a motorcycle, is the most outdoorsy he has ever been.  He comes home smelling like the road, and sweat, and a bit like gasoline.  It's kinda rugged. I like it.  And he loves it.  I'd say that's pretty awesome arrangement!

Creating or Re-creating?

I know I promised motorcycle photos, but I've been lost in thought this week.  I've been taking in a lot of information lately, not all of it good, not all of it bad, but lots of it making me think.  I've come to realize that a lot of what I do creatively is re-creating.  The little elephant below - someone else's design.  The things I knit - patterns I've seen and want to make.  Songs I sing lately - not written by me.  Now don't get me wrong.  I'm not discounting them as useless.  It takes skill, desire, and practice to be able to re-create.  But does it really take imagination?  That is what I've been pondering over.  I don't want to spend all my artistic energy doing my own spin on someone else's brain child. 

So what is the difference between inspiration and copying?  For example, I am fascinated by Nikki McClure's art turned into children's books.  Specifically "Mama, is it summer yet?"  So do I sit down to see if I can do a paper cut in her style?  Yes.  That can be creative.  But not copying her images and doing it as she would have done.  That's re-creating. 

So why is it different when I do a little elephant?  Or embroider a pattern?  How can I find the impetus to create and not fall into the trap of just re-creating.  That is my journey this week.  I'll be pondering it over  and I'd love to hear your thoughts on how you avoid the potholes of just re-creating, rather than using things around you as a springboard for your own creative process.  Please leave your thoughts in a comment!

Lazy Afternoons and Flying Babies

It's hot.  I'm sure it's not hotter than other summers, but it's August and going outside (from my nice and cool 75 F house) feels like hitting a wall of hot air.  Add to that, we have been without a second car and therefore stuck at the house with our only form of transportation being my feet and a double stroller, and it adds up to lazy afternoons at the house.  Reading, lounging, playing, and building.  We've been putting to use our new discount store quilt (and matching shams - oo la la...we've been reading Fancy Nancy a lot.  Can you tell?) to good use and the children have fun while I fold laundry or some other low intensity form of cleaning that doesn't require too much of my attention.  I love these sweet babies.

And for good measure, here's a flying baby. J LOVES to do this!  Happy Friday!  See you on Monday. 
(Teaser...Matt got a motorcycle...)

The stream of creativity takes a turn - watecolor and ink

Necessity is the mother of invention, or as I have found, creativity.  Specifically in terms of making things.  Today I took the jump and tried my hand at watercolor and ink.  I had a baby shower to go to and needed a gift.  Something sweet, handmade, and gender neutral.  I had found this lovely embroidery pattern at So September while searching for embroidery pattern freebies and thought how sweet that would look in a nursery.  I didn't have time to embroider it, so I painted it, coping the picture freehand onto watercolor paper, then painting it and finally finishing it with ink.  You can see in the corner of some of these pictures, I used a nib pen and ink, which is one of my favorite ways to draw.   I think it turned out rather nice!  I think I might explore this medium a bit more.

I once heard an artist who made a living by his painting say that he had only one stream of creativity and when he delved into other forms of art (he was trying his hand at jewelry making) then his art suffered.  I have rather feared to delve too deeply into other mediums of creating, lest my music suffer, but if I think about it clearly, my music is already suffering.  Naptime does not afford me brain space enough to write a new song. I can play the old ones, but new ones rarely come.  It takes a clarity of mind for me; one that the dirty diaper pail, the laundry, the smudgy floor, and piles of dishes there at the edges of my thoughts, nagging me about what a poor housekeeper I am, often prevent me from achieving.  But this is just a season.  This is the season of glorious chubby babies and beautifully curious toddlers.  This is the season of a messy house.  This is the season of mini projects. This is the season of diverting the stream a little and enjoying what new paths it carves out.

Midnight musician

Sometimes, you just gotta wait til everyone goes to bed, pull out the guitar, ignore the schmutz on the carpet that you haven't vacuumed yet and pretend, for just 15 minutes, that you still are a musician, singing and rocking out the acoustic love. And then you write a song about your sweet babies and get all teary eyed and have to stop. Sheesh.

Girly Girls

When Judah takes his morning nap (if that happens - nap wars have begun), then Cora and I take a little time for just us.  A craft project, a picnic, a tea party, a long story (her attention span amazes me!), or just a little girly girl time.  This girl loves to be fancy and while I spend a lot of time reminding her that she is beautiful even if she is not wearing pink (tears, I tell ya, over having to wear a t-shirt and shorts, not a pink dress), I love to indulge her love of fancy ever so often. 

And now Matt and I are hard at work at reminding her that beauty is not something that she wears or how she looks, but something that comes from inside her heart.

Pin tucks, Pleats, and French Seams...

Cause I just need that much more crazy in my life, right?  Judah is fast approaching his baptism.  And though I've made a gown before (for Cora) 1. It is very feminine and 2.  he is a chunk and won't fit in it.  Cora can still wear it (unbuttoned but at 2.5 yrs old!), but my 6 month old baby boy won't fit in it.  So he gets a new one.  And I'm up sewing in dim dining room light until midnight.  I bought a Simplicity pattern and I never remember that I don't like Simplicity!  I like the look of the outfit on the outside, but the inside is all unsightly, unfinished edges and raw seams.  So I add another layer of bodice so I can tuck the skirt in with a little hand stitching (insanity.  I know) and I do french seams on the skirt, so it's nice and tidy.  French seams, for those of you who don't know are when you sew the pieces together (wrong sides facing each other) with the seams on the outside, then you turn it wrong side out (right sides facing each other) and sew the seams again, to tuck them in.  It hides all the raw edges and keeps delicate material from unraveling.  Useful! 

This gown has a lot of pin tucking in it and I am not great at it.  There have been some grumbles and ripping out of seams to get them straight, even with ironing!  Long lines of pin tucks.  Arg!  But I know I will love the end result, so I'll shut up and sew.  Now I know why mothers made one unisex gown for the first baby and every other baby wore the same one.  Because finding time to sew with a 6 month old and a 2 year old who wants nothing more than to "help" me (i.e. play with the pins, crinkle pattern pieces, try pattern pieces on baby brother, and run around with fabric scraps on her head and around her neck because the are "So pretty!"), it's hard to get much done until "dark time" (as it is called around here).  "Sun time" is for mama to mind the kiddos!

6 months of pure joy

Judah celebrated his 1/2 birthday with little fanfare.  A home video.  Some photos.  Hanging out at the house together.  No presents.  He is, after all, only 6 months old.  But I just can't tell you how much I love this boy!  I loved Cora from the day we found out we were pregnant, but when we lost a baby in between Cora and Judah, I was afraid to feel so deeply about him. I was terrified to lose him.  I oscillated between love and fear.  I did love him, but I didn't want to fill his journal up with thoughts of love for him, just to set it aside empty of any further words, with emptiness inside my heart.  It's a good thing God knows what we need.

 

Here he is, hollaring. He has lots to say.

He sent me the most stubborn, most joyful, "eating life" kind of baby imaginable and I am consumed with love for him.  He wakes with a smile for me, and then it's on to business with what we have come to call "the hungry hands".  He puts them in front of him and rubs them together.  Imagine a greedy miser at the sight of money.  That's it.  He used to do this little grunting noise as well, but he's given that up in favor of all out wailing if he doesn't get milk in. his. mouth. within seconds.  I took him in for his 6 month appointment on July 13th.  He's 18lb 5oz and in the 75th percentile for everything.  I tell ya.  He eats life!  (and everything else, apparently)

As for stubborn, it's not something that bothers me, but I can tell he will be strong willed.  Let's call it determination, shall we?  There is no distracting this child from something.  If he wants it, he WILL get it. Or at least try with every chubby ounce until Mama physically moves him or the thing away and out of site.  Then there is sadness.  Oh the sadness.  But it's sadness that quickly turns to joy (unless he's hungry) when I make silly noises or blow raspberries, a skill that I heard him practicing to himself for days until he got it and then he blew his little raspberries at me and anyone else who would give him a giggle.

He has learned to sit up by himself and give him another week and he just might learn to crawl.  Oh, heaven forbid!  We love, love, love him and I love the tender Mama moments I get with this wee chunk of a boy.  He is my little snuggler and I am soaking it all in.  One delicious day at a time.  Happy half birthday, wee man.

Tea for two and two for Tea

My sweet girl and I grab moments where we may.  It may just be 10 minutes out on the porch in the sun having tea with mama's real teapot (from England - thanks Tally!) and her Ikea teacups, but these little bits are precious.  She loves Judah, but the sting of lost Mama time is still there.  I see it when she's tired and wants me to 'get her' (carry her).  So we enjoy our blueberries and raspberry tea ('cause it's pink!) on a heart tablecloth in the sunshine while we may.  She is still, after all, my girl.

Tomorrow, belated (his 1/2 birthday was on the 12th) photos of my 6 month old, in all of his chubby, pink glory.

Through my daughter's eyes

I had a bit of an epiphany today.  Cora and I were watching a music video where the girl singing was all dressed up and looking beautiful, (Katy Perry - Firework.  I had been searching for fireworks photos for her) when she turned to me and said,"That's Mama singing!"
"It is?" I asked.
"Yes.  It's Mama singing," she answered adamantly.

Now let me just say, when I look in the mirror, I do not now, nor have I ever seen anything that resembles Katy Perry.  She is young and beautiful and I've never thought very much of the way I look.  But I realized as I put my little girl to bed, that in her eyes, I am beautiful and a great singer.  (And, apparently have a music video.)  I'm not gonna hem and haw about it, I know I can sing, but comparing me and a rock star?  Not even on my radar. 

Not so, to my little one.  In her eyes, I am that rock star.  It is inspiring.  It is beautiful.  I have a lot to live up to.  Apparently, I'm a firework.  And we all know how she feels about those.

Happy 4th of July!

After last year's "sparkly stars", we were determined to take Cora (and by default, Judah) to the fireworks for Independence Day.  So we packed up the kiddos, and dinner, and blankets and spent the day outside, enjoying friends and a wonderful cookout.  Then when the sun went down, we were treated to some beautiful fireworks and one of the sweetest scenes, as a mother, I've ever seen.  I took a video of Cora, in her Papa's lap, which is such a safe place, of when the first fireworks started to go, but it is far too big to upload here.  At the first one, her mouth dropped open and her hand came up to her mouth in absolute surprise.   I think she liked it.  (Judah did too!) The she and her Papa went to get a better view.  (and to unknowingly give me one of my favorite photos of them.  Ever.)  

So Happy Independence Day folks, and I just gotta say, I am so grateful to be living in this country!

The second EC baby!

Each family has their own way of potty training, and we practice EC, or Elimination Communication.  We did it with our first girl and loved the result, so we practice it again with our little guy.  It's much the same as before, but we had to learn how to aim him!  Now that he's on the big potty, this is not an issue. He just learned to sit up this week, so taking pictures was an exercise in speed, crowd control (Cora wants to be a part of it all), and anticipating his balance.  No one fell off the potty!  So here he is.  Cute, fat, pink, and on the potty.

A glorious day

These summer days are flying past.  We went to Texas for 2 weeks, saw my baby sister get married and now we have the same last name again!  (She married an Evans, but no relation to my Evans), and Judah has been breaking all previously held records around here in terms of eating, sleeping, growing, crawling, and sitting up. (of course, Cora was a preemie and a girl, so therein lies the main difference)  I think to myself that I'm drinking it in by not taking the time to write about it. I tell myself I'm "being present" and I am, but I am not capturing it in the way that I love to capture best, in words and pictures, so I hereby resolve to post more than once per month, or quarter or year, or whatever slacking I've been up to lately.

Thursday we spend the day at the "beach" and by beach I mean a lake beach, sand, but no ocean.  I was a little hesitant to go and since we only have one car it took some juggling, but we made it there by 10am and if this is any indication of how much fun we had, you should know that it was 3pm before we left.  Now that may not seem like a long day to most, but with a 2 year old and a 5 month old, it is no less than epic.  But it was by far the most enjoyable outing we have had.  To date.

I am not kidding!  Cora played with all of her friends and was very independent the entire time, but not in a way that made me nervous (like taking off for the deep water or eating cigarette butts...you know).  I was with the MOMS Club, so there was never a shortage of hands and voices to call or carry her back from any poor decisions, should she make them.  Judah enjoyed the water, ate without much fuss and then took a two and a half hour nap in the shade on the beach.  Two and a half hours, people!!  Not in his bed.  Epic.  I just can't say that word enough.  I had conversations with people,  none of us got sunburned, I didn't feel overwhelmed or wiped out, the summer sun was cooled off by a small cold front and it was actually COOL in the shade, Cora didn't throw a tantrum...I could just go on!  The. best. day.

Since the birth of our second child, these days have been scarce.  Or, dare I say, non-existent.  It hasn't been rough for awhile now, but it has been far from glorious and here it was, just perfect.  We intend to take the Papa Bear next week after work.  It was that good.  And now for photos.  I've cropped most of our friends out since they may or may not want their bathing-suited selves on the 'interwebs'. 

My sweet fat baby, wearing big sister's old swim diaper. We'll call it a "Speedo", shall we?  Just look at those fat thighs!

Getting her "Sea legs" while I feed the baby.

Sand and a plan.  Cora had a vision in mind and woe betide the toddler who stood in her way!  (We had a talk about that.)

Where she spent most of the day

Upon being told we had to leave, after only a mere 5 hours. :(

Tomorrow...an infant using the potty!  Good times.

April Showers...and a two year old

We had a lot of rainy days in April.  I understand it's a good thing and my garden is grateful for those precious drops from the sky, but when you are stuck at home with a girl who is WILD about being outside, it gets a bit tedious.  So we improvise.

My porch becomes a work of art...with little brother looking on.

And although I can't go stomp in puddles with a sniffly infant in arms, I can stand on the porch and watch my little girl explore and taste new freedoms.  All while equipped with outstanding rain gear (courtesy of Aunt Shiloh and 'Auntie' Lyn!).

The clouds may hang on for a bit longer, but these gray days can't get me down!  Not with these two around.

Boob Envy

Yes.  You read that right.  I have boob envy and I have it bad.  J-baby is 2 months old now and he is officially weaned.  And every time I see a friend (or stranger) nurse her baby, I feel a little lump in my throat.  I see women randomly on the street and the thought crosses my mind "I bet she could nurse HER babies".  And then I sigh, just a little inside.  This is the one thing, of all of the things I prayed for, that did not happen for me.   Not that you need to know all of this, but it's therapeutic to write it all out.  I was unable to nurse my Cora girl when she was born.  I was told I needed to pump more, that her latch was bad, that I wasn't relaxing enough to get a letdown for the pump, that she was too weak to nurse since she was a preemie.  On and on. I tried every technique, every herb I knew of, every drug.  I sacrificed sleep and pumped around the clock.  I had the lactation consultants on speed dial.  I literally drove myself insane.  And it didn't work.  Nothing worked. I had to be medicated for Postparum Depression (PPD) after the last drug I went on to promote lactation did nothing for me.  I was broken-hearted and DETERMINED that it would be different this time.

But it wasn't.  I had my full term baby, I had a VBAC (which somewhere in my head I had convinced myself that my C-Section effected my ability to nurse. It doesn't. It didn't.), I was DETERMINED to make it work.  Until I took my little son in for a weight check and he had lost a pound after 5 days.  I called a new lactation consultant and asked her every question and after another night of my little boy frantically trying to nurse for 3 hours and then falling asleep, I saw his behavior for what it truly was.  He was exhausted, not satisfied.  I took a bottle of formula in hand and I fed my son.  He gulped down every drop, burped contentedly, and then fell asleep, full and happy for the first time in his short little life. I cuddled him and sobbed.  Heart-wrenching sobs and was angry.  Angry at God.  Angry at my body.  Angry and broken.  I didn't understand why I couldn't have this.  I wasn't going to starve my son any more for the sake of my nursing pride, but WHY?!!  Why couldn't I have this one last thing?  And granted, I was 5 days postpartum and a hormonal mess, so this all felt way more intense.

I went to see the lactation consultant (a different one from the ones who I saw with Cora) and long story short, she took one look at me and told me she was surprised I could make any milk at all.  I had an organic problem.  I just don't have the glandular tissue I need.  It's a condition called Breast Hypoplasia and I'll let you google it.  Mine is a mild case and not at all like what I found when I searched for images. Yeep!

I felt such relief at having an answer!! I left her office with every (new) herb she recommended and started on meds (not the crazy making ones this time) to make everything work as much as it could with the full knowledge I would never make a full supply for my son, but I could give him what I had.  And then he got sick and refused to nurse, or eat at all since he couldn't breath and it was all downhill from there.  By the time he got better, I was down to the dregs and he was not happy about having to work so hard for his lunch.  I slowly let it go.

And I am still sad about it.  I can get angry if I think about it too much, since for years I've been seen by medical professionals who never once mentioned that this might be a problem, that there might be an underlying syndrome that I could possibly correct with medicine and weight loss.  And now here we are.  J-baby has donor milk from other mamas and formula and I have a little sigh in my heart when I think about it.  I don't hang out in that place.  I am grateful for the gifts I have been given with beautiful healthy children and for the most part, a healthy body. But there is a little sad part in my little mama heart that longs to feed my baby the way God intended a woman's body to work.  And writing it out helps me let it go a little more.  To find joy in the gifts I have been given and to be thankful for what I have (or don't have).  For at the heart of it is a plan that is bigger than mine.

Spring-ish

It's only March, so this warm weather is only a tease.  I know this from 10+ years of Nashville weather.  The moment I put something in the ground before April 15th, fickle Spring hides her face and the frost kills my young plants.  I've learned.  But this delicious breeze!  This warm sun!  This barefoot babies on the playground day!  I've been fooled before and I may get fooled again. 

I haven't been capturing the days on 'film', but just drinking them in, and often sitting, totally overwhelmed while a small one sleeps on my chest and my other (still small in my heart) one runs and plays and attempts things I never thought she'd try.  It's funny how having mama's hands full all the time prompts new independence.  And new sadness.  'I need you Mama' is what she says about 50 (thousand?) times a day to me.  She can't express why she needs me, or what she needs me for, but truthfully, I know she needs me to find time for her when she is the only thing in my arms and not get half hugs while I hold my darling, but still extremely needy son.  I can't help but think of a wise friend's words to me as I stood crying in my dining room.  My heart has expanded to hold both of these darling babies, but my hands have not multiplied.  By default, I cannot hold them both and I feel it.  The return of the sun from waking until nearly sleeping helps me deal with this dilemma much better than the gray and cold days of January when I first brought this bundle home, but still, the longing to give my daughter the time she craves and still spend my days drinking in the smiles and coos of this little boy. 

But the garden calls me.  The snakes are already taking up residence in my irises.  I've been working on getting wee man to lay on a blanket and be OK with that.  Maybe under an umbrella while we prepare the soil for plants.  I set aside the nagging thoughts that my time would be bette spent keeping up with the laundry or vacuuming the hideously dog hair covered rug, or planning or grocery trip or...or...or...or...

Nope.  I ignore the or's and dig in the dirt.  Or at least plan to, even if I haven't begun.  Yet.

Lent and Love

I've given up sugar for Lent and let me tell ya, I am not a happy girl.  I willingly admit I am a junkie and crave sugar all the time.  We don't keep sweets in the house because I will eat them in a day, but give me about 10 minutes and I could rustle something up from the ingredients we have!  I'm not being super hard core and checking every label, but if it tastes sweet, I am not eating it.  (I might have to add ketchup to that list since after 5 days of no sugar, it tastes like tomato syrup to me)  I'm not sure how long the detox period will last, but for now, I'm not through it.  The headaches are the worst.

Couple this with the fact that I am doing some serious praying and reading about love, Christ's love for us, among other types and I've got quite the mix on my hands.  I might have just lost my mind.  Showing love, or being mindful of how loving I am when I am on edge and jonesing for something sweet might just be the stupidest plan I've ever undertaken.  So here I am, day 5 and praying for the strength to walk away from my daughter's animal crackers, and biting back all of the angry and ugly words that want to come spilling out of me in response to denying myself my favorite drug.  Not that anyone is being particularly annoying.  Just me, a detoxing junkie over here. 

But that is the purpose of Lent, for me right now, to deny myself a physical pleasure that I may focus on the sacrifice of Christ.  In that way, in my own very small way, I hope to get a glimpse of His sacrifice.  Not that giving up sugar is like giving up one's life, but maybe I can just touch the edge of the thought, and hold it in my mind, in between diapers and feedings and the never ending demands of a newborn and 2 year old who are on conflicting schedules.  Maybe for long enough to understand Love a little more.  I hope so.