I Blame Daylight Savings. And Teeth.

Lily is the most reliable alarm clock I’ve ever owned.

Every morning. 7 o’clock. On the nose.

So I was excited about Daylight Savings Time this spring. Because, theoretically, she would “sleep in” until 8 a.m. Maybe just maybe, I thought, we could trick her little biological clock into waking up an hour later.

Do you want to know what time she woke up that Sunday morning?

That’s right.

7 o’clock. On the nose.

Which, in case you don’t remember, actually felt like 6 o’clock. I definitely remembered.

We didn’t tell her about the time change, didn’t put her to bed earlier, didn’t change a thing in her routine, but somehow she knew.

And ever since then her sleep schedule has been all wonky. She hasn’t napped well, has had a hard time getting to sleep at night (probably because it’s still light out) and she’s “reset” her inner alarm clock to SIX-THIRTY.

*sigh*

I thought maybe this week we’d get back to normal, but now Sophia has started in. She’s working on four gigantic molars and has been waking up early from her naps still tired and verrrrry cranky. I can’t say I blame her, I know how bad a toothache can be, and I can’t imagine what it’s like to have four at once.

However.

All of this to say that I’m a little tired myself.

My house is kinda messy, because I haven’t had regular nap times to clean.

And do you know what it’s like to clean your house when your kids are awake? A friend of a friend said that cleaning your house while your kids are awake is like, “trying to brush your teeth while your eating an Oreo.”

Yes. Yes, yes, yes.

My floors…my poor floors…are so sticky and I can feel little bits of dirt on the bottoms my feet when I walk.

I hate that.

I’m sorry. I hope you didn’t come here hoping to be inspired by my model of good housekeeping. Just keepin’ it real.

But…you know…I will take short naps and cranky kids over bad attitudes and arguments about boyfriends or makeup or clothing or goodness knows what else is coming my way once we have teenagers in the house!

Let them be little, right?

(But I really do need to go clean my floors)

Happy Wednesday!

All My Single Ladies…

You know that girl that always has a boyfriend? And a dozen other interested guys waiting in the background in case her current relationship falls through?

Yeah…that was never me.

I spent a good 20 years of my life before I met my husband in “the waiting room” if you will. And, granted, many of those years were before I technically reached “dating age”, but I still remember what it felt like.

I wanted to get married.

I wanted to have babies.

I wanted my “real life” to begin.

I feared singleness – or at least the thought of remaining single indefinitely. And I had to get to a point where I was ok with it before God allowed me to begin a relationship with that godly man who eventually became my husband (but that’s a story for another day).

Now that I’m on the other side of things, I’ve thought a lot about the way I spent my time as a single girl.

What advice would I give my 20 year old self, now that I know what it’s like to be married, to have a family, to be in the thick of baby raising.

You hear a lot of moms say something like this…

Enjoy your free time….

Take advantage of your independence…

You can spend your time and money how you please, so enjoy that…

And I think a lot of the time there’s a real push to stay focused on yourself.

I get that.

Believe me, I do. I look back at those times when I *thought* I was busy – HA! How little I knew…

But I think my advice , if I could give it, to my single self, now that I know what I know would be this:

Don’t wait until you are married and have children to practice being a servant.

Because…let’s not romanticize things, here…marriage and child-rearing? Require a lot of service. A lot of giving and often, not a lot of getting.

Becoming a wife and mother has not magically transformed me into an unselfish person. In fact, if anything, it has revealed to me just how self-centered I really am.

I have to be honest, there are days when I feel downright angry inside that my three year old wakes up early from her afternoon nap…because, you know…that cuts into “my” time. It’s sometimes tempting to look back on those “pre-baby” days wistfully when I think about how much time I had all to myself.

But what I’ve come to realize, what God has been reminding me over and over and over with painful clarity is…my time was never my own.

As a Christian, I am called to be a servant of Christ. Period.

Because I have children and a husband, my primary area of service is obvious. I spend a large portion of my days sweeping crumbs and picking up toys and doing laundry and wiping poo (and other equally disgusting stuff). Sure, sometimes I serve in other areas – but generally speaking, “Mom’s” the word.

Someday in what seems right now like a very distant time in the future, my children will grow up and move out and yes, I’ll still be a mom, but in a much different capacity. Today I serve Christ by serving my family. But when the needs of my family have eased, then what?  Have I suddenly lost my sense of purpose just because I am no longer a full time mom?

No. Because my purpose – and yours, if you believe – is not found in my earthly family, it is found in my Heavenly Father. When I serve my family, I am ultimately serving Him.

The truth is, “real life” doesn’t begin when you get married and have kids.  And it doesn’t end when they are grown. Your real life is NOW. Whatever stage of life you are in, God’s got a plan for what He wants you to do with your time.

Are you single? SERVE CHRIST.

Are you married with no children? SERVE CHRIST.

Are you a young mom with lots of littles? SERVE CHRIST.

Are you an empty nester? SERVE CHRIST.

So my advice to my single, childless, 20 something self?

Don’t give in to the lie that focusing on yourself now will somehow make it “easier” to be selfless later on -- as if selfishness is something you can get out of your system. Selfishness begets more selfishness. You won’t get rid of the monster by feeding it, you’ll only make it bigger.

Rather begin today by practicing service. Stop serving yourself. Start serving Christ. And if someday the Lord chooses to bless you with a husband and children? Well, you will have prepared yourself well.

Not Inconveniences

Source: etsy.com via Amy on Pinterest 

I watched the 48 Hours Mystery about Casey Anthony Tuesday night. I knew the basics of the case, but didn’t really follow much of the trial coverage so I didn’t know many of the details.

Heartbreaking, in every sense of the word. I’m not going to pass judgment on the jury here. I don’t envy the position they were in, and it’s much easier for me to sit here and say, “I think she’s guilty” {which I do…} because I don’t have the weight of responsibility for sentencing a woman to death the way they did.

I do think, whether intentional or not, that Casey is guilty, and it’s frustrating that justice seems to have slipped through the cracks.

But mostly, I just feel sad. So, so, sad

.

For a family that appears to have been struggling before and has now been ripped apart.

For a little girl, whose life was cut so tragically short due to the selfishness of another.

And for a mother, who failed to realize what a treasure she had been given in the form of a 2 year old girl, full of life and beauty. Who let her love of self triumph over her love for her daughter.

After the show I slipped into each of our girl’s rooms and just stared at them while they slept, wanting to pick them up and hug them and never let go.

And I felt the weight of guilt press on me for all the times I had been irritated at having to wake up in the middle of the night, change another poopy diaper, clean up another mess…these are my CHILDREN! Shame on me for not always cherishing them as the precious, beautiful, gifts of life that they are, regardless of the messes they make and the intrusions they can be on “my” time.

I know…it’s not exactly the same. Even in my most frustrated and weary moments, NEVER have I EVER wished my child was dead. It makes me sick to my stomach to even think about.

But…isn’t that a seed of the same lie that Casey Anthony believed? That children are “inconveniences to be managed”? She is an extreme example, yes…but what did Jesus say? That lust is as bad as adultery, hate is as bad as murder, that thoughts are as evil as actions…because if allowed to grow they lead to sin and eventually death?

But each person is tempted when they are dragged away by their own evil desire and enticed. Then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death. 

James 1:14-15

I think…far too often we do not take our sin as seriously as we need to when it is in it’s infant stage. We view it more like a pesky fly that we can swat away when we want to, not the raging monster that threatens to grow and consume us if we let it. I think if we truly realized the depravity of our hearts we would be far more vigilant about squashing those little lies before they have a chance to fester inside of us.

We can always point fingers at others who have committed acts that seem to us to be unthinkable, but we forget that many a righteous person has fallen. Remember David, the man after God’s own heart? Guilty of adultery and murder.

Do you think there are many people out there who intend to let their sinful thoughts get so out of hand that it eventually leads them into action? How many people just do a 180 and decide that they are going to commit a crime, kill a person, have an affair? It is not usually one giant step but rather a series of small ones.

The Casey Anthony trial was a gut check for me. A reminder to embrace even the challenges of raising children, to not give in to the lie that says that I shouldn’t let my children get in the way of what I want to do.

Isn’t that what our society says? Don’t want to be inconvenienced with a baby? Kill it before it’s born. Yet we are surprised and disgusted when we see the unintended consequences of that little white lie come to fruition in the life of a young mother “saddled” with a child that she evidently was happy to be free from.

So this week…I have smiled at the globs of Play Doh stuck underneath the dining room table. Happily washed 2 loads worth of tiny pink and purple clothes. Prepared bottles and cut up grapes and swept sand off my freshly mopped floor. Grinned at the fingerprints on the sliding glass door.

Praise God for my two little “inconveniences”. May He give me many more.

She May Not Be As Quotable As Her Older Sister…

…but she’s just as cute. Wouldn’t you agree?

Although I think if she could verbalize her thoughts, it would probably go something like this:

“Oooh, what’s that? My hand? It looks delicious! Let me stick it in my mouth!”

“Oooh, what’s that? Mommy’s hair? It looks delicious! Let me stick it in my mouth!”

“Oooh, what’s that? Daddy’s cell phone? It looks delicious! Let me stick it in my mouth!”

**Insert vigorous Riverdance-like kicks here**

I think the top 3 most common remarks we hear people say about her are:

1. She looks nothing like her sister!
   True, at least right now. And no…we don’t really know who she resembles…
   
2. She is getting so big! And yet, she’s still so small!
   Also true. Getting bigger but still looking small, she’s like a walking oxymoron. Except she’s not walking. So she’s like a rolling oxymoron, I guess.
   
3. She’s such a smiley little baby!
   Yes, it’s true. She is {almost} always smiling. Sometimes at inanimate objects, but hey! She’s happy!

Lately she’s been waking up early from her naps…or occasionally in the middle of the night to practice her rolling.

She’s getting pretty good at it, and we can always hear her on the monitor, squealing and having a grand old time, until at some point she starts crying….

It’s all fun and games until somebody forgets how to roll themselves back over and gets stuck on their belly in their crib.

In 11 days she will be 6 months old, and all those “baby” milestones will be sneaking up on me. Eating cereal, sitting up on her own, trying her first bites of baby food…it’s all just around the corner.

Happy almost 6 months Sophers! We love you!

(Even if we don’t take as many pictures of you)

(Sorry about that)

I Think Mr. Murphy Must Have Had Children…

You know, Murphy’s Law?

“Anything that can go wrong, will?”

It never fails.

The one time you forget to grab a clean diaper before you remove the dirty one from your infant’s backside, they will poop all over themselves…and the changing table…and you…and just for good measure they’ll spit up all over themselves while you’re cleaning up the poo.

When you think you’re {finally} all caught up on your housework and you might have extra time in your week to work on a project, or read a book, or rest a little, both of your children will get sick for consecutive weeks in a row causing the cleanliness of your home to plunge to depths you had yet to encounter.

When you pat yourself on the back for having a toddler who understands that naptime is naptime and not playtime, said toddler will suddenly decide that naptime is, indeed, a good time to sneak out of bed and dump all her toys out in the middle of the room before Mommy can come in and ruin all her fun. And, hey, while she’s at it, why not take off all her clothes?

And just when you are thinking about how nice it is to be consistently getting eight hours of sleep at night again, your infant will get sick with such a horrible stuffy nose that you spend half of your night holding her upright in the rocking chair so that she can get some sleep.

My friend Mindy made this comment on Facebook the other day:

It's one of those days where my to-do list is: feed kids, keep them alive. If I get anything else accomplished today, it will be a miracle.

And I laughed, because that, my friends, is the past two weeks of my life in a nutshell.

Feed kids. Keep them alive. Check and check.

And now…taking advantage of a rare moment where both of them are napping simultaneously, I am going to get some sleep.

Mr. Murphy, don’t you dare interfere with this one

First I’ll Be a Mother…

In case you stop by and my wonder why my house is messy…

Excuse This House

Some houses try to hide the fact
That children shelter there,
Ours boasts it quite openly,
The signs are everywhere.

For smears are on the windows,
Little smudges on the doors
I should apologize, I guess
For toys strewn on the floor.

But I sat down with my child
And we played and laughed and read
And if the doorbell doesn’t shine,
Her eyes will shine instead.

For when at times I’m forced to choose
The one job or the other,
I’d like to cook and clean and scrub,
But first I’ll be a mother.

Author Unknown

Thanks for sharing this Amanda…it’s going on my fridge :)

What Was I Saying About Having More Energy Again?

Do you ever have days…or in my case, sometimes weeks…where you wonder what, if any, of the principles you are trying to instill in your children are actually lodging themselves in their precious little heads?

I mean, one day you observe this darling exchange of sharing between your eldest child and her younger sibling and the next thing you know it’s…”No! That’s mine!!!” at the playdate.

One day your two year old is sweetly saying “please” and “thank you” without any prompting and the next she’s screaming, “I WANT A DRINK!” at the top of her lungs from her high chair.

True story.

I swear, some days you could observe my daughter and think, “Gracious, do her parents EVER discipline her?”

We do. I swear to you, we do!

But that little sin nature, it is stubborn, I tell you.

And if I’m being perfectly honest with you, today I feel just plain discouraged. I have a nagging headache, the kind that sleep and Tylenol don’t seem to have any effect on.

I did not sleep well last night.

And if you haven’t guessed already, we did not have a good morning today, in terms of behavior.

I know. She’s two. It’s normal. But just because it’s normal doesn’t mean it’s ok. I can’t just let that sin go unchecked in her life. It’s not going to get better on it’s own. But some days I feel like I’m just saying the same things over and over and over and over…

It’s days like these that I’m reminded…I CAN’T do this parenting thing on my own. I DON’T have all the wisdom I need or the resources to get it right IN MY OWN STRENGTH.

But…and this is what I need to repeat to myself over and over and over…

I know the One who does.

If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him.
James 1:5 {emphasis mine}

I’m asking, Lord. 

Sense of Humor Required

If you’re on Facebook, there’s a good chance you’ve seen this already but it’s just too funny not to share.

The 11 Step Program for Those Considering Parenthood

Lesson 1
1. Go to the grocery store.
2. Arrange to have your salary paid directly to their head office.
3. Go home.
4. Pick up the paper.
5. Read it for the last time.

Lesson 2
Before you finally go ahead and have children, find a couple who already are parents and berate them about their…

1. Methods of discipline.
2. Lack of patience.
3. Appallingly low tolerance levels.
4. Allowing their children to run wild.
5. Suggest ways in which they might improve their child’s breastfeeding, sleep habits, toilet training, table manners, and overall behavior.

Enjoy it because it will be the last time in your life you will have all the answers.

Lesson 3
A really good way to discover how the nights might feel…

1. Get home from work and immediately begin walking around the living room from 5PM to 10PM carrying a wet bag weighing approximately 8-12 pounds, with a radio turned to static (or some other obnoxious sound) playing loudly. (Eat cold food with one hand for dinner)

2. At 10PM, put the bag gently down, set the alarm for midnight, and go to sleep.
3. Get up at 12 and walk around the living room again, with the bag, until 1AM.
4. Set the alarm for 3AM.
5. As you can’t get back to sleep, get up at 2AM and make a drink and watch an infomercial.
6. Go to bed at 2:45AM.
7. Get up at 3AM when the alarm goes off.
8. Sing songs quietly in the dark until 4AM.
9. Get up. Make breakfast. Get ready for work and go to work (work hard and be productive)

Repeat steps 1-9 each night. Keep this up for 3-5 years. Look cheerful and together.

Lesson 4
Can you stand the mess children make? To find out…

1. Smear peanut butter onto the sofa and jam onto the curtains.
2. Hide a piece of raw chicken behind the stereo and leave it there all summer.
3. Stick your fingers in the flower bed.
4. Then rub them on the clean walls.
5. Take your favorite book, photo album, etc. Wreck it.
6. Spill milk on your new pillows. Cover the stains with crayons. How does that look?

Lesson 5
Dressing small children is not as easy as it seems.

1. Buy an octopus and a small bag made out of loose mesh.
2. Attempt to put the octopus into the bag so that none of the arms hang out.

Time allowed for this – all morning.

Lesson 6
Forget the BMW and buy a mini-van. And don’t think that you can leave it out in the driveway spotless and shining. Family cars don’t look like that.

1. Buy a chocolate ice cream cone and put it in the glove compartment.
Leave it there.
2. Get a dime. Stick it in the CD player.
3. Take a family size package of chocolate cookies. Mash them into the back seat. Sprinkle cheerios all over the floor, then smash them with your foot.
4. Run a garden rake along both sides of the car.

Lesson 7
Go to the local grocery store. Take with you the closest thing you can find to a pre-school child. (A full-grown goat is an excellent choice). If you intend to have more than one child, then definitely take more than one goat. Buy your week’s groceries without letting the goats out of your sight. Pay for everything the goat eats or destroys. Until you can easily accomplish this, do not even contemplate having children.

Lesson 8
1. Hollow out a melon.
2. Make a small hole in the side.
3. Suspend it from the ceiling and swing it from side to side.
4. Now get a bowl of soggy Cheerios and attempt to spoon them into the swaying melon by pretending to be an airplane.
5. Continue until half the Cheerios are gone.
6. Tip half into your lap. The other half, just throw up in the air.

You are now ready to feed a nine- month-old baby.

Lesson 9
Learn the names of every character from Sesame Street , Barney, Disney, the Teletubbies, and Pokemon. Watch nothing else on TV but PBS, the Disney channel or Noggin for at least five years. (I know, you’re thinking What’s ‘Noggin’?) Exactly the point.

Lesson 10
Make a recording of Fran Drescher saying ‘mommy’ repeatedly. (Important: no more than a four second delay between each ‘mommy’; occasional crescendo to the level of a supersonic jet is required). Play this tape in your car everywhere you go for the next four years. You are now ready to take a long trip with a toddler.

Lesson 11
Start talking to an adult of your choice. Have someone else continually tug on your skirt hem, shirt- sleeve, or elbow while playing the ‘mommy’ tape made from Lesson 10 above. You are now ready to have a conversation with an adult while there is a child in the room.

If you’re a parent, this probably made you laugh. If you’re not a parent, this might just have scared you into celibacy. Don’t worry. They really are worth all the trouble, I promise.

But, seriously. Do the goat thing.

I Knew This Day Was Coming…

Today is a day that will forever live in infamy in my mind. Saturday, November 20, 2010 also known as, “The Day My Child Threw A Massive Screaming Temper Tantrum In The Middle of The Department Store.”

At Kohls, to be exact.

It was awesome. If by awesome you mean “horribly stressful and embarrassing.”

I don’t even remember what set it off – and to be perfectly honest, I don’t think Lily remembered either. But she got upset about The Thing That Did Not Go Her Way and once the crying started, well, it did not stop.

I started out fairly calm.

“Lily, you need to stop crying right now. Obey Mommy.”

This usually works. Today it did not.

Somehow it made things worse. More screaming, crying, and oh isn’t this nice? Kicking.  I don’t think I need to describe the rest of the scene in detail, but if you’re a parent, you’ve probably experienced something like it (or you will someday in the future).

It ended with me carrying my thrashing child out of the store, past the stares of curious onlookers – some judgmental, most sympathetic.

She was past the point of being responsive to my discipline and I was not in the right frame of mind to administer it at the moment. We both needed to remove ourselves from the situation and calm ourselves down.

She screamed the whole 5 minutes it took us to drive home, then when we pulled in the driveway, I think sensing her impending punishment, stopped and said, “Ok Mommy. I will obey.” Sweet, but…a little too late.

I knew it was somewhat inevitable that this would happen someday. Even if you’ve got an angel of a toddler, they are bound to test you in public at some point, unless you sequester yourself at home for a couple of years which, believe me, I’ve considered.

But I guess somewhere in the recesses of my mind I hoped maybe I’d be the lucky one. After all, Lily is a fairly obedient child. We have our moments but on the whole, she listens. And even at home we’ve never quite experienced a temper tantrum of this magnitude.

But, alas, it was not to be. I’ve walked through yet another rite of passage as a parent. The Public Temper Tantrum. Is it ridiculous to hope I’ll never experience another one?

By the way, I won’t get into particulars, but once we got home, she received her punishment. She cried some more (this time repentantly not rebelliously), we hugged, and then we had a little discussion about what she did wrong and what she should do next time. I wasn’t sure exactly how much of what I said she truly understood until later.  Sophia was crying and Lily leaned over and said in a very serious voice, “So-PEE-uh, don’t throw a fit. You’ll get a spankin’”

Maybe I am getting through to her.

****************************

By the way…I hate disclaimers, but I feel I need to add one here. We believe that spanking is a biblically sanctioned method of discipline for willful disobedience. While it is certainly not the only way we choose to correct our children, we believe it is most effective in the early years for helping teach the importance of obedience and respect for those in authority, and when lovingly, calmly, and consistently administered is not child abuse. There IS a difference. We do not spank out of exasperation or as a last resort and we do not spank when we are angry. If you care to know more about the particulars of how we administer the spanking, contact me privately and I’d be happy to let you know :)

On Motherhood…

I think I’ve mentioned it before, but one of my all time favorite books about being a mom is “The Mission of Motherhood” by Sally Clarkson.

I’ve probably been more challenged by this book in the area of my role as a mother than any other book I’ve ever read {and I’ve read quite a few}…apart from the Bible that is.

I started reading through it for the second time a few months before Sophia was born and it’s been every bit as challenging to me now as it was the first time around.

One chapter in particular really convicted me – the kind of conviction that makes you squirm in your chair uncomfortably because you know there’s a big gap between what you should be doing and what you’re actually doing.

It’s a chapter about being a servant mother and honestly, it’s just so good – if you’re a mom you’ve got to get this book and read it for yourself because I’m probably just going to butcher it here :)

Here are a few things I underlined:

“Choosing to be a servant-mother means willingly giving up myself, my expectations, and my time to the task of mothering – and choosing to believe that doing so is the best use of my time at the moment.”

“I have to choose to serve Christ by giving my time and energy to my children – not just when I feel like it but when they need me.” {emphasis mine}

This is not something you’re going to hear from our secular culture today. It’s simply not a popular idea. Most people will tell you that you’ve got to protect your “me time”. And certainly there is nothing wrong with a mom taking time for herself, spending time apart from her children doing things she enjoys.

The problem comes when you elevate those things over your responsibilities to your family. As Sally Clarkson states:

“So many mothers fall into the trap of resenting the intrusions that children make on their time.”

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve caught myself thinking, “I can’t wait until the kids are older and can take care of themselves better so I have time to do the things I want to do.”

But as Clarkson says:

“Children, by definition take up our time. They’re supposed to do that; it’s the way God made them...Children simply don’t fit into neat little time packages.”

She goes on to explain that:

“I regret the time I wasted in the early years of my children’s lives because I didn’t have a realistic understanding of what motherhood would cost me in that regard. I did enjoy being with them – usually. But I also tended to chafe at the demands these little ones made on my time and energy. I would become irritated or frazzled by their whining or clinging to me or crying.”

Can I just raise my hand here and say, “Yes! That’s me! I can totally relate!”

I mean, how many times have I gotten annoyed because Lily woke up early from her nap, cutting into “my” time? Or bemoaned the fact that I’m getting up in the middle of the night every night to nurse? Or whined and complained because the house is dirty even though I just cleaned it an hour ago?

I love what she says here:

“As I have gone through the past 18 years of motherhood…I’ve come to appreciate the importance of the many thousands of routine moments in a mother’s life, for it is in these moments that real greatness tends to be taught and caught. It is certainly important to grasp the great calling of motherhood…but it’s the way I respond to my children in everyday moments that gives me the best chance of winning their hearts. If I have integrity and patience in the small moments of life that are so important to my children…then I have a far better chance of influencing them in the larger and more critical issues of life.” {emphasis mine}

I think so many parents miss this. They don’t pay attention to the little things that are important to their children and then they wonder why, as teenagers, their children don’t want to pay any attention to what they have to say.

I’m so far from where I should be in this area, but I recognize that there are things I need to change. Now it’s just a matter of remember and applying what I’ve learned…always the hard part for me.

Anyway. You should really just go get this book and read it for yourself, I just can’t do it justice in one blog post!

A Plethora of Pictures

I think I’ve hit the wall, figuratively speaking when it comes to sleep deprivation. The first couple of weeks I didn’t really feel that tired. But I can only take so many nights of interrupted sleep before it starts to affect me.

Case in point, I went to the grocery store this weekend to buy diapers, juice, and bread. I came back with a birthday present for my niece, batteries, and four packages of thank you notes. All things we needed, but unfortunately, I did not remember the diapers, the juice, or the bread.

On Sunday after I asked him to repeat the same question for like, the seventeenth time in a row, Dave said, “Man, you are really out of it, aren’t you?” Yes. Yes, I am. So if you’ve had a conversation with me in the past week or so and I’ve seemed a little off, now you know why.

Anyway, so I’m not going to type any more for fear that it won’t make sense and just post a few pictures instead.

The day we took Sophia home from the hospital – that outfit barely fits her now. Is it just me or does the second baby grow faster than the first one? Or maybe I’m just so much busier this time that I don’t notice all the little changes…

 

Lily doesn’t quite understand that Sophia doesn’t like playing with Legos and reading books as much as she does :) 

But she loves “reading” to “Baby So-PEE-uh” anyway

I love that face.And that cute little tushie.

 

Such a good big sis – always making sure Sophia has some form of entertainment…

…and a pacifier. Poor Sophia gets that pacifier shoved in her face whether she wants it or not.  

That’s all, ya’ll.

(Did I just say ya’ll? Sorry. It’s the sleep deprivation talking again.)

Have a good Wednesday!

Confessions and Cute Stuff

I must confess:

• Since coming home from the hospital, Lily has been watching entirely too much TV. I think we’ve broken my “no TV before naptime rule” approximately 19 out of the 20 days we’ve been home. In my defense, there are few other methods that I have found to be as effective for keeping her occupied while I’m nursing Sophia. And when she’s not occupied…well, stuff like this happens: 
   
  
  Why not color all over the baby swing? At least she chose a coordinating color…
  
  
• We had our first Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad night the other night. Sophia was fussy, awake, and hard to comfort – I think as a result of Mommy having too much caffeine. One or the other of us had to hold her all night. And I do mean ALL NIGHT. Dave and I were both exhausted and one of us may or may not have thrown a pacifier at the other one in our frustration. I’m not going to say who… 
  
  The good news is, it looks like it was just a fluke. Since then she’s been back to being a content, sleepy baby that only wakes up once during the night to eat.
  
  
• I forgot how hungry br*eastfeeding makes you. Naturally, I’ve been making sure to get my extra calories in by eating lots of donuts and chocolate cake fruits and vegetables.
  
  
• Dave has done a fabulous job of helping me out around the house and keeping things generally cleaned up but I am here to tell you that our bathroom has reached epic levels of extreme grody-ness. I’d show you pictures but…ew.

And now for some cute stuff:

This is a gift one of the super talented ladies in our small group made. Are these burp rags not adorable?

And then check this out – it’s a car seat cover.

Heavier than a blanket so it doesn’t fly off in the wind, and it attaches to the handle with these cute little flowers.

Plus if you flip it over, it’s fleece and you can use it as a blanket if you don’t have one when you’re out and about.

Genius! And so much prettier than the other car seat cover we have.

And then there are these little booties our neighbor gave us:

And this dress from a church friend of ours:

I’m so glad we’ve gotten a few new things for Sophia. As nice as it is to be able to use all of Lily’s clothes, a girl’s gotta have a few things to call her own, right?

That’s all.

Happy Wednesday!

A {Baby} Story

Before I went into labor with Sophia, I heard two recurring things from other mommies of more than one about labor and delivery the second time around:

1. Every labor is different.

and

2. The second labor is much easier than the first.

And I’d have to say that I completely agree with the first statement. My second labor was definitely different. But easier? I’m not sure I’d go that far.  The second labor (for me) proved to be slightly more…complicated.

But I’m getting ahead of myself – let’s start at the beginning.

October 8, my due date, came and went uneventfully. Truthfully, that was the last day I expected to have the baby. I mean, how many women actually deliver on the day they are due? And given the fact that I was a week overdue with Lily, I really wasn’t surprised that I was continuing the trend with this pregnancy. Part of me was hoping I would go into labor on Sunday so the baby would have a really cool birthday – 10/10/10 – but, no such luck.

Monday morning came and I hadn’t even had a hint of a contraction since my appointment a week ago. I headed to the doctor for yet another round of ultrasounds and non stress tests. When I walked in the room, the ultrasound tech {who by now knew me by name} said, “I was really hoping I wouldn’t see you in here today.”

Ditto.

She went to work measuring the baby and checking the amount of fluid and then she said, “Well, I think you’ll be having that baby soon. Your fluid levels have dropped.” They had gone from being at around 7 {considered low-normal} to a 5.3. Evidently, when levels are at a 5 or below, it is considered low and they start to become concerned for the baby’s well being.

Not only that, but the baby’s baseline heart rate was registering low on the non-stress test. Not alarmingly so, but combined with my low fluid levels and the fact that I was several days past my due date, the doctor suggested that we induce labor the following day.

I wasn’t crazy about being induced, but I also didn’t want to risk anything happening to the baby, so I agreed and we set the appointment – 6:00 a.m. on Tuesday, October 12.

The nice thing about being induced, of course, was that I had time to go home and double-check to make sure I had everything ready to go. Bags were packed, the house was freshly cleaned, my mom was all lined up to take care of Lily, and we headed out the door at 5:30 the next morning feeling well prepared.

My plan was to ask the doctor if they could break my water before they started the Pitocin, just to see if maybe things would progress on their own. That didn’t happen.

When we got to the hospital, our {super awesome} nurse told us that the doctor was in a surgery at another hospital and she had instructions to start me on the Pitocin until the doctor arrived to break my water – she expected it would just be a couple of hours. So she got me all I.V.-ed up and at around 7, started pumping the Pitocin in.

I had heard all kinds of horror stories about how much worse contractions are with Pitocin, but to be honest, they didn’t feel any worse to me. Every once in awhile, the nurse would come back in and bump up the amount of Pitocin and they’d get a little stronger, but nothing unbearable.

So we waited. And waited. And waited.

A couple of hours passed…still no sign of the doctor.

9:00.

10:00.

11:00.

At this point, the contractions were strong enough that I needed to breathe through them, but not bad enough that I felt like I needed an epidural, but I had a feeling that once they broke my water…if the doctor ever came to do that!…things were going to get ugly. So I asked the nurse if she could go ahead and order one for me. She agreed, and said it would give her a good excuse to call my doctor and find out where she was.

Not two minutes later, in strolled one of the other doctors in the practice – she wasn’t on call but she was the one who had ordered the induction for me and had come in on her day off to see how I was – and she broke my water for me while she was there.

And I was right. Things started to get ugly.

My pain levels went from like a low 5 to a 10 almost instantly. Luckily, I only had to wait another 30 minutes or so before the anesthesiologist arrived to give me the epidural.

At about the same time, there was a change in shifts and we got a new nurse. They checked my cervix and said I had gone from a 3 to about a 4. I couldn’t believe that was all the further I had progressed after all that time. At this rate, I’d be in labor FOREVER! At least, it felt that way :)

The nurses told me to let them know if I started feeling any pain with contractions again, or got the urge to push and said they’d be back to check on me again in about an hour.

Not 5 minutes after they left, I started feeling pain on my left side. I told Dave I was feeling contractions again and we debated whether or not to get the nurse, but I decided to wait. I mean…I had just been at a 4 – I couldn’t possibly already be completely dilated, could I?

But the pain just kept getting worse and on top of that, I was feeling extremely nauseous so finally we buzzed the nurse and she came in to check me again.

Surprise, surprise – I had gone from being dilated to a 4 to a 10 in the space of about 15 minutes. It was pushing time. Except…

“Don’t push yet,” the nurse told me, “because this is your second baby and her head is right there, it’s not going to take long and we need to call your doctor.”

So they called. No answer.

Tried again.

No answer. Left a voicemail.

Called the office. They said, “We don’t know where she is and we can’t get ahold of her either.”

FAN-TASTIC.

The nurses were super nice but I could tell they were annoyed with the doctor, and since we had no way of knowing how long it would be before she could get there, they offered to give me a boost in my epidural to help me hold off a little longer. I readily agreed.

A couple of minutes later yet another doctor from my practice walked in – the office had sent him as a replacement for the doctor on call since nobody seemed to know where she was. Finally! This baby was gonna be delivered. Except…

That little “boost” in my epidural had worked – a little too well. I couldn’t feel to push – like at all. I was trying but nothing was happening. So the doctor instructed them to turn off my epidural and call him when I started to feel pain again.

At this point, I was exhausted and on the verge of tears. I felt like I could have had this baby hours ago were it not for all the waiting on the doctors that we had been doing.

It took about 20 more minutes, but I finally started to feel the urge to push and just about that time, who should walk in but THE DOCTOR? The one who was on call that we had been waiting for ALL DAY? She said something was wrong with her phone and she hadn’t been getting any calls until about 15 minutes ago.

I was like “Yada, yada, yada, just let me deliver this baby already!”

And so I did.

Just a few pushes and about 10 minutes later, the doctor handed me our beautiful, screaming, pink baby girl.

Sophia Grace.

Suddenly, all the pain and the waiting and the frustration seemed…worth it.

Totally worth it.

Stuff

I know some of you are just itching to hear all the details of my labor and delivery and I promise I’ll get around to writing it out one of these days. But for now, here’s what’s been going on around here the past few days, in bullet points :)

• I hate to even say this because I’m afraid to jinx it but…so far Sophia is an awesome baby. Great eater. Great sleeper. I don’t mind the middle of the night feedings as much when they aren’t also accompanied by Random Bouts of Crying For No Apparent Reason. I’m just praying it continues – she is, after all, only 5 days old :)
  
  
• Lily is adjusting to her role as big sister unbelievably well. She’s always been a huge little bit of a mama’s girl and would have serious meltdowns when I held other babies, so I expected things to be a little bit rough for the first few weeks. But honestly, so far she’s seem to accept “Baby Soh-PEE-uh” coming home as just a completely normal thing. We’ve had a few jealous moments and I’m sure there will be more to come, especially once Daddy goes back to work and isn’t there to give her attention when Mommy can’t, but on the whole, it’s been so much better than I expected!
   
• We’ve been having fun comparing Lily and Sophia’s baby pictures :) There are definite similarities and definite differences. I think they have the same eyes, mouth, and face shape but different noses.
  
  
  Lily on the left, Sophia on the right
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I love the faces they are both making in these ones – plus Lily’s hat looks hilarious, makes me laugh every time :)   
  
  
• Tomorrow Dave goes back to work…really wishing we could delay that a little longer but I knew it was coming sometime :) Thankfully my mom is just a phone call away and is ready to come help when I need her!
  

That’s all for now!

To My {First} Little Girl

Dear, sweet Lily,

My firstborn, my little girl.

A post in your honor is long overdue.

You are two.

TWO.

And I know how very cliché this sounds…but when did that happen?

We had a rough start, you and I. You didn’t make things easy on this new mama but I loved you through it all…even if I wondered whether or not you loved me sometimes!

Not anymore. These days there’s no mistaking the fact that you are mama’s girl through and through.

You’ve moved from being a fussy newborn to a sweet toddler who is {almost} always ready to cuddle.

There are days when I wish I could just bottle you up and keep you two forever.

I don’t want you to lose the rest of the baby fat on those sweet cheeks.

I want you to keep loving Winnie the Pooh and Elmo instead of the Jonas Brothers or Hannah Montana.

I want you to keep playing princess and having tea parties.

I want your Daddy to always be the only man in your life.

I want you to keep believing that I am everything you think I am.

I want you to keep your innocence. There is so much hurt and evil in this world and every part of me longs to shield you from even knowing about that.

I want you to just stay two and never get big.

And yet…

I want you to mature.

I want you to move from a little girl to a wise young woman.

I want you to experience the beauty of the world God created for you.

I want you to know Christ.

These next few months are going to bring changes for you…some that you may not like. Your little world is going to get shaken up a little bit and I want you to know – I’m still your mommy. I love you more than you can even comprehend, and though you may be getting less of my time and attention, you will never get less of my love.

You are sweet. You are spunky. A little bit sugar and a little bit spice.

I see more of myself in you every day and it thrills me…and scares me.

With each passing day I lose a little bit of the control I have over your life…and I realize more and more that it’s just an illusion, really.

You’re not mine. You are God’s.

Don’t you ever forget that, no matter how big you get.

I love you sweetie, and though you I can’t make you stay two, I can enjoy it while it lasts.

So let’s  go put on our princess crowns and drink tea, shall we?

A Birthday Story, Part Two

To read Part 1, click here.

******************

After the epidural, both Dave and I were able to lay down and get some rest. I don’t remember exactly how long we slept but it had probably been a couple of hours when the shifts changed and a new nurse came in.

This one was all business. She checked me, clapped her hands, and said, “Ok. Let’s get things moving here.”

After a quick call to my doctor, she broke my water, and told me that she was able to tell from the color of the liquid that Lily had passed the meconium (the first stool) in the womb. This wasn’t unusual for a past due baby, but it meant that they were going to need to suction her lungs out after delivery, to make sure she hadn’t swallowed any of it.

The rest of the day mostly just involved a lot of resting and waiting. I mostly slept while Dave ate lunch, watched TV, and read a book.

The exact time is fuzzy, but probably somewhere around 3 p.m. our nurse came in with another nurse. She explained that Brinda (the new nurse) would be taking care of me while she went to assist the lady in the room next to me, who was apparently having twins. Brinda was a little less experienced with multiple births so she would stick with me.

More resting. More waiting.

And then, finally – I was at a 10. It was a little after 4:00 p.m. and it was time to push. Brinda walked me through the steps and off we went.

After about 15 minutes, I started to notice something. I was feeling things again. Like, pain. Major pain.

In between pushes I said, “I think my epidural stopped working.”

Sure enough, the little bag pumping the drug through my system was pretty much empty.

“It’s too late to give you any more…sorry.”

It wasn’t long before I was feeling the full force of the contractions, and my body was clearly not happy about it. I could feel myself shaking but it was like I couldn’t stop it and then I knew I was going to throw up…and I did, several times.

(I’m sorry. I probably should have warned you not to read this while you are eating.)

I think it was at this point that I looked at Dave in desperation and whispered, “I don’t think I can do this!”

After about 30 minutes of pushing total the nurse told me to stop. Lily was coming faster than she thought and the doctor wasn’t there yet. In fact, he was at another hospital and we had to wait for him to come.

The next 20 minutes felt like hours. They kept telling me to breath through my contractions when everything in me was practically screaming at me to PUSH! I was this close to saying, “Forget the doctor, you catch the baby!” when in strolled my doctor.

Two quick pushes and, at 5:06 p.m. on September 22, 2008, Lily was born. I can’t even begin to describe the feelings that washed over me in the moment, but if you’ve ever had a baby, you understand.

Relief and joy and amazement. Laughter and tears all mixed up as one.

Today she is two, and she’s every bit as precious to me now as she was then.

Would somebody pass me a tissue, please?

A Birthday Story

With Lily’s birthday being this week and the impending birth of our second child, I’ve been thinking a lot about my first labor and delivery and how it all went down. And it occurred to me that since I didn’t have a blog when Lily was first born, many of you don’t know how it happened.

And since everybody loves a good labor and delivery story (or wait…is that just me?) I thought it would be fun to revisit that special day. So travel back in time with me…

*******

It was 2 years ago today, September 21st – a Sunday. I was nearly a week past my due date and after a somewhat discouraging doctor’s appointment the previous Friday where they told me there was “no change”, they had scheduled me to be induced.

I didn’t want to be induced, but at this point, I was sooo ready. Ready to be done with the pregnancy and move into this new phase of life.

Ready to not have people asking me, “Haven’t you had that baby yet?”

(Look at me. Does it look like I’ve had the baby yet? No. But thanks for the reminder)

I would go to the hospital the next evening (Monday) where they would give me some Cervidil to prepare my cervix for induction. I was…nervously excited.

I can remember the most mundane details about that Sunday.

• We ate Mexican for lunch with my little brother (you know, spicy food).
• Dave got his haircut at Great Clips (just in time for taking pictures at the hospital).
• I wore my favorite maternity dress to church that night (for the last time).
• Dave played basketball with some guys after church and I reminded him to keep his phone close by (just in case).
• I made a list of things to do the next day to keep my mind occupied and help the time pass until we went to the hospital the next evening.

I had been having Braxton Hicks contractions off and on all day – nothing regular, but I did notice before I went to bed that it seemed like they were occurring a little more frequently. Like, maybe every 30 minutes or so. Nothing too concerning. We went to bed.

And then I had the strangest dream. I don’t remember any other details other than that in the dream, I had a horrible stomachache. Like, the worst stomach pain in the world.

Then I woke up.

And I realized, “Hey this isn’t a dream, my stomach really does hurt.”

Wait a second…

I was having contractions – painful contractions – and they seemed fairly close together. I didn’t want to wake Dave up until I was certain this was the real thing so I headed downstairs and started timing.

Seven minutes apart.

Then five minutes.

Deep breaths.

“Um, Dave? I think we might need to go the hospital.”

He jolted out of bed, and stood groggily looking around, still a little sleep confused.

“Really? You’re in labor?”

“Yeah…at least…I think I am.”

We called the doctor, grabbed our bags, and headed towards the hospital. The drive took only 20 minutes but it felt like hours. Confined to the space of the car the contractions felt 10 times worse. By the time we got to the hospital, I was convinced I was going to drop the baby out on the pavement before we even made it to the maternity ward. I had to be dilated to at least an 8 or 9, I was sure of it.

But we made it to the maternity ward (after a few stops to huff and puff) and they started getting me checked in. I don’t remember much of what they did, but I do remember the nurse asking me to rate my pain on a scale of 1-10.

“Ummm…an eight? At least.”

She kind of grinned (What are you smiling about lady? I see nothing funny about this) and then said, “Well, you’re dilated to a 2 1/2, almost a 3.”

Two and a half?

TWO. AND. A. HALF????

AND WE’RE GOING ALL THE WAY TO TEN??????????

“Are you going to want an epidural?” she asked…I think already knowing what my answer would be.

“Yes. Please.”

I have heard stories of women who don’t even realize they are in labor until they are dilated to an 8 or a 9. I have had friends who walk around for weeks dilated to a 3 with no contractions and it never ceases to amaze me. I know every woman is different, and all I can say is I must have gotten the short end of the labor stick because my contractions? They were intense.

Either that, or I’m just a huge wimp.

Probably a little of both :)

After another hour of huffing and puffing I had progressed to a 3 and the anesthesiologist came in to give me my epidural. I had heard horror stories about the size of the needle and how painful it would be but to be honest with you, it didn’t bother me at all, and oh the relief I felt when he got it in and I could relax.

By this time it was close to 5 a.m. and the nurse urged us to get some sleep so we could rest up for what was ahead…

To be continued…

Perspective

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sat down and tried to write this post and failed. I think in part because it involves some things I’m thinking that are deeply personal and I’m a little bit leery of putting that out there for all to see – afraid of being misunderstood.

And maybe partly because I’m not entirely certain anyone will really care all that much about what I have to say here, but – here goes.

The other day my mother-in-law asked me, “So, are you just getting so excited to have a new little baby at your house again?”

And I hesitated.

Because in all honesty, the answer to that question right now is…no. Not completely.

Now, hear me out.

This baby is something we both prayed and planned for. We want to have more than one child – in fact we’d like a whole houseful of them, if the Lord allows. This pregnancy did not come as a surprise. We felt {and still feel} like we are ready to add to our family, and we are thrilled at the way the Lord has blessed us.

But if I’m being real – and I want to be real here – I was not a big fan of the newborn phase.

Lily was a…difficult baby. She cried. A lot. In fact, the first couple of months it seemed like if she wasn’t eating or sleeping, she was crying. Wouldn’t take a pacifier. Overall, I think she just didn’t really adapt to change all that well. And let’s face it, being born? Is kind of a big change.

She wanted to sleep during the day and be awake at night, and really what kind of people were we trying to change up her schedule like that?

To make matters worse, it seemed like anytime we talked to anyone about it, we got the same standard advice, “Just enjoy it. They’ll be going to college/getting married/having their own babies/etc, etc. before you know it.”

I know their intentions were good, but in all honesty, I had to keep myself from rolling my eyes whenever someone told me that. Enjoy it? Really?

Let’s face it. When you are running on little to no sleep, holding a baby who has been screaming for hours on end, tried all the tricks in your book to get them to stop, sore in places you’ve never been sore before, and bombarded with some crazy hormones, it’s not enjoyable.

It’s not.

And I wish, so, so badly that someone would have said this to me instead:

“It’s ok.”

It’s ok that you don’t just love being a mom right now.

It’s ok that you kind of like your baby the most when she’s sleeping.

It’s ok to not just be googly eyed over your child when they are screaming their head off at you.

It’s ok that you feel like you need a break.

It’s ok to not be enjoying this particular aspect of parenthood.

I mean, let’s try giving that same “Just enjoy it,” advice to someone in a different circumstance.

What do you think would happen if you went up to a woman, say, in the midst of an extremely painful labor and said to her, “You know, these contractions are working together to bring your precious little baby into the world…so just enjoy it.”

Do we say that? I mean, if we value our lives, do we say that? No! We say, “Keep pushing! The baby’s coming! It will be worth it! You’re almost there!”

But we don’t tell them to enjoy it, because it’s not fun.

I think what people mean when they say that is this:

“This is a time in your life like no other. Your baby will never be this small again. So enjoy those happy, cuddly moments. Drink in your baby when she’s snuggled up asleep on your chest. And when your baby is screaming it’s lungs off? Keep it in perspective. It won’t be like this forever. Before you know it, your baby will be all grown up, so take heart.”

I’m not really sure why I’m telling you all this, except that maybe I know I’m going to need to hear that these next couple of months. There’s a good possibility that this next baby might not be as touchy as Lily. Maybe it will be one of those laid back, go with the flow babies, who knows?

Even so, I’m mentally preparing myself for some bad days. Because there will be bad days.

Days where the baby is crying and Lily is being ornery and I won’t get to take a shower and I’ll maybe even say rash things like, “I’m not ever having any more children ever again,” and poor Dave will just smile and nod and let me cry on his shoulder and offer to take the night shift so I can get some sleep.

So.

Am I looking forward to having a new little baby?

The answer is yes.

And no.

Yes to the snuggles and the little butt curling up on my chest and the first smiles and the sweet smell of baby lotion.

No to the crying and the sleepless nights and the pain and the hormones and did I mention the crying because I’m really not looking forward to that?

But this time…this time I hope to keep things a little more in perspective. And it might just be easier this time around because I have a living, breathing, walking, talking, adorable bundle of proof that this won’t last forever.

So mental note to my future self: Enjoy the good days. Endure the bad. It may not always be fun, and that’s ok but it’s worth it. It really is.

The End.

(Is anyone still reading?)