Forgiveness

I just want next weekend to come and go.  I know the emotional toll it will take on my soul and the anticipation of that is crippling.  I suspect I am not the only one who feels this way - I bet it is the same with any traumatic anniversary.  "We now interrupt your perfectly unperfect life for this painful reminder of what you survived."  Thanks.

People ask me various questions about the accident, especially around this time of year, but the hardest one is: Do you forgive the people responsible?  Yes, generally.  But not on the Anniversary.  On the Anniversary, I have mini conversations with them.

I ask them why they couldn't have left wherever they were  one minute later ?

I ask them if they have nightmares.  And when they say yes, I am satisfied.  Ashamed, but satisfied.

Forgiveness is a daily thing.  We can make up our minds to forgive, and we choose to forgive each day.  But on the Saturday of Opening Weekend, I give myself permission not to forgive.  And it feels good.  I can't believe I am admitting to that, but once a year, I let the anger out of its cage and it brings me to my knees.

Here's what the anger sounds like:

My mind screams and my eyes overflow with hot tears. I wonder if they realize that magnitude of that night, or if they file it away deep in their brains because it hurts too much to think about how something they did has left an everlasting hardship.

I think about how my husband will never feel grass or sand beneath his feet.  I think about how every morning he works up a sweat just getting dressed.  I think about all of the missed family vacations and outings.  I think about how our youngest noticed that daddy has no feet.  He has no feet.  Imagine that.  Imagine how hard EVERYTHING would be?

And I wonder if those thoughts cross their minds - if they even let themselves go there. I get pissed in a protective way, which is the hardest way to be pissed off because it's not about you.  It's about someone you love.

And then it's Sunday.  And I think about how God loved us and continues to love us.  I think about where our lives were headed and where they are now.  I think about all of the talented people that saved his love and in turn, created life.  I think about how we didn't let the devil win.  About how God battled for our hearts.

And my anger turns to thankfulness.  Not thankful that it happened, but just thankful.  I feel sorrow for the people responsible because of course they have "gone there," and I have no idea how that must haunt them.

 On Sunday, I forgive.

Thank You Teachers

It's the eve of the First Day of School, and my 10 year old daughter couldn't be more excited. Yes, she's excited to see her friends and to play at recess.  She's excited to wear her new outfit and use her new supplies.  But mostly she is excited for what a new school year stands for: possibility. And I have you, her teachers to thank for that.

Nessa has learned that school can be hard - she will be challenged by her teachers and her peers to outgrow herself in every way imaginable. But, she knows that through the challenges, she will come out better.  More refined.  Smarter and more compassionate.  And I have you, her teachers to thank for that.

She started school at three years old, barely able to remember her last name.  Now she writes persuasive essays to the neighbors about homelessness and animal rights.  She had her ABCs memorized (the younger ones who follow will not - you've been warned), and now she is reading beautifully written historical fiction that teaches of struggle and triumph.  And I have you, her teachers to thank for that.

She is memorizing multiplication and division facts, and while there is something about math that give her hesitation, she powers through.  She sets goals.  She works hard.  And I have you, her teachers to thank for that.

Thursday, we will send Nessa's sister Lainey to 4K.  She will enter the school system for the first time.  With Nessa, I was nervous - hesitant to let her go outside of our safe little bubble.  But with Lainey, we are excited.  We know she will be loved.  And Lainey is excited, too, because thanks to her big sister, she knows no other way to think about school.  And I have you, her teachers to thank for that.

To Mrs. Mares and Mrs. Krueger - this years' teachers:

Thank for for what I know you are about to do.  All summer, you have been with your kids.  Three months of stay-at-home mom life balanced with a bunch of professional reading and training.  But, still, you have had three months where your own kids have been front and center.  And this week, you are about to make my kids yours.

You will think about my kid during Packers games.  You will pray for her at church.  You will make plans for her and design lessons that are engaging yet challenging.  You will tell yourself that you are "taking the weekend off," but you won't.  I know this because I know your hearts.  You will feel guilty for telling your own kids, "I'll be there in a minute" but it will really be more like 20 because you're answering my email question about the field trip form I never returned.

You will give so much of yourselves to my kids.  So much so that my kids will become your kids, just like all of the teachers who have come before you.

And for this, I thank you all.

. 

I'm Sorry….

Dear Josie Mae,

I need to apologize to you for a few things:

* the fact that you are over 2 months old, and this is the first time I'm writing about you.
*forgetting to take your one month picture and posting it on Facebook (*GASP*)
*taking your 2 month picture when you were actually closer to 3 months.... Oh well.
*always feeding you while chasing your sister or with your bottle propped up in the car.
*failing to record your first smile in your baby book - I'm pretty sure you have a baby book somewhere...
*skipping a birth announcement - everyone on Facebook knows, so what's the point, right?

Okay - so basically all of the documentation I did for your sisters, I haven't been on top of with you.

But, here's what you're getting in return:

*a lot of dance parties while strapped to me in the Ergo.
*trips to the corn maze, apple picking, and the pumpkin patch.
*a big sister (Annessa) who reads to you all the time.
*another big sister (Elaina) who feeds you and alerts me anytime your eyes are open.  Oh, and she also pretends to be a monster to wake you up.
*jumps in leaf piles and walks through the neighborhood.
*midnight cuddles when no one else is awake.
*Lots and lots of noise - singing, talking, yelling, whispers and laughter.

So, there you have it.  Your baby book (where ever it is) may not be full to the brim, but you are so, so loved.

Until next time (hopefully before you turn one!) -
Love,
Mom 

Princess, Monster, and the Karate Kid

I currently live with a princess (Annessa), a monster (Elaina) and the Karate Kid (unborn child # 3).  My oldest daughter is pretty jealous of Duchess Kate and Princess Charlotte.  I can relate, their lives do seem pretty fabulous from the outside looking in (although I've heard the little prince is quite the spit-fire, so that makes me think that maybe no matter how great it seems on the outside, on the inside, we all struggle with the same stuff).  Lainey, on the other hand, is obsessed with Sully from Monsters University and runs around the house roaring with her fingers clenched like claws.  Meanwhile, Baby Girl # 3 is karate chopping her days away in my uterus.  No gentle rolling felt here.  All rapid-fire kicks and jabs.

I'm amazed by how my girls are so different (I'm assuming # 3 will have her own little personality as well-and I have to say, the curiosity of what our 3rd would be like was a driving factor in the decision to forego birth control and "see what happens").  The older they get, the more we uncover about who they are.  Annessa is showing more sensitivity now than ever before, while Lainey is showing more spunk than we ever thought our mild-mannered baby would have.  Both girls are funny in their own little ways - Annessa with the way she is experimenting with her sense of humor, and Lainey with the way she crosses her arms and huffs when she doesn't get her way (dangerous to laugh at, we know).

They fight like I never knew sisters fought.  As a girl with brothers, I had only heard about how territorial sisters can be, but now I actually LIVE inside of this craziness.  Yet, as the end of the day, this happens:

And I remind myself that I am the lucky one that gets to watch these sister relationships grow.  

Middle Child

Dear Ruthie,

In a few months, you are about to go from the "baby" to the "middle child."  Being the baby of the family has certain perks, that's true, but being the middle child has its benefits, too.

You will have the best of both worlds: You'll always be a little sister to Annessa and now a big sister to ??.

So, as I hear your dad and sister waking up, I have to bring this (short) post to a close.  But, what i really wanted to say can be said in one sentence anyway: You are a middle child - precious and beautiful, but most of all, you are you.

Love you Ruthie,
Mama

Annessa: My Prayer for You in the New Year

Dear Annessa,

I love you so much it hurts.  You have become a girl overnight (how did that happen??).  Gone is the toddler that used to climb on everything and dance in the yard wearing last year's halloween costume.  Any trace of baby, toddler, even preschooler is gone.  Now you do things that girls do.  You do wonderful, delightful things like teach your little sister animal sounds and write in your diary.  You laugh and sing and dream about meeting Katy Perry.

You roll your eyes.  You look at me like I am crazy.  You have even written me a note that, dare I admit it, says, "I hate you" - only to crumple it up minutes later and tell me you didn't mean it.  But still.  That's what I remember doing when I was a little girl.  I was so jealous of my cousin's relationship with La-La that I wrote little "I hate you" notes to my aunt and left them all over La-La's house (they were living with La-La at the time).  Of course I didn't really hate them, but when you are little, sometimes the gray area feelings that have nothing to do with anyone but how you feel about yourself are hard to describe.

Anyway…..This girl stuff scares me.  It's true what "they" say about parenting getting harder as your kids get older.  You are becoming your own person.  So wonderful.  So smart.  So individual.  And so mine.  I feel like Daddy and I are the guardians of your heart right now.  Our words have the power to build you up or tear you down.  In large part, your sense of self comes from how we are choosing to raise and parent you right now.  And to be honest, that scares the (shit) out of me.

So, my prayer for you in this new year actually has nothing (yet everything) to do with you. I pray that Daddy and I will "show up" for you every day.  That we will hear God when He tells us how to respond to your tears, your anger, your sadness and your joy.  He knows your heart the best. My prayer is that we build you up with our words and actions.  That we are worthy examples of how to live in a Godly way.

Being a girl is scary.  There are lots of people out there saying you need more of this, less of that, bigger this or smaller that.  But, if we can show up for you everyday,  then maybe you will discover that you are enough.

You always were enough and you always will be enough.

A Bucket of Pain

Pain.  Does it ever really get better?  Or, do we just get better at covering it up?  On the anniversary of a tragedy (a life-changing injury or the death of someone in your inner circle, a divorce….the list could go on and on), well-meaning people tend to say something like, "I hope that the pain gets less and less with each passing year," or, "Time heals all pain."

But I kinda have a problem with that.  Those kinds of sentences (despite the person's good intentions) implies that pain is something that vanishes over time.

Like, your pain is in a bucket and with each passing year, you take a scoop of pain out.  If you follow that logic, then at some point, depending on how much pain there was to begin with, the bucket would be empty.  You would be pain-free.

But that's not how I see it.  Deep, dark pain - the kind of pain that changes every aspect of your life - never goes away.  It doesn't get easier with each passing year.  Not a day goes by that you are not reminded of what was lost.  Sure, in the beginning, you probably cried yourself to sleep.  Maybe even hated the world and the way everyone in it just went about their day as if nothing even happened while you were so overcome by tragedy that you could barely move. Or speak. Or think.

That's in the beginning.  After the beginning, when everyone assumes you have moved on and adjusted to the "new normal," that damn pain is still there.  It's always there.  You just make a Choice to move forward with life.

Sometimes the Choice to move on is the most painful thing of it all.

It makes it seem like it doesn't matter.  Like you're okay with the way things are.

But, we all know that is not true.  We're not okay with the way things are.  But, what Choice do we have?  Lay in bed all day and let our kids grow up without a mom or a dad?  Lose our jobs?  Drink?  Sure, those things might happen.  But then we wake up and realize that it's time to join the rest of the world.  The rest of the stupid world that is moving on with their days.

Except, what if the "rest of the world" is hiding pain too, just making it through the day?   What if everyone is making a Choice to put their bucket of pain on a shelf and rejoin society?  That's what I think.  Everyone has pain.  The pain doesn't go away.  Deep down, it's there, and all it takes is a song, a memory, and smell to bring it back to the surface.  As if all of the living you've been doing never happened and you're right back at the scene of the crime - when your life was split into two parts.

Before and After.

But then the phone rings, the kids call or the light turns green and we quickly push the bucket back on the shelf, and rejoin the After.

Because, after all, what Choice do we have? 

Dear Annessa,

Tomorrow is the first day of first grade.  You will have kids in your class that you know well from last year, and there will be kids in your class that you don't know well.  Your daddy and I want you to know that God puts people in our lives as gifts to us.  People make us laugh, they are there when we feel sad, and they are there when we want to have fun.  But most of all, God puts certain people in our lives so that we can learn from them.  Annessa, the kids in your class this year, they are God's gifts to you. They will teach you things about yourself and about the world.

There will be times when someone is being teased and your heart will feel sad.  That is God saying, "Wake up, Annessa! one of my children is hurting!  You need to help!"  And you will listen to God and go sit by the classmate that is being teased or ask someone without a friend to play with you.

But, there will be times when someone is feeling sad and you don't step in.  You don't ask her to play or offer to share your snack.  When you get home, you might still be thinking about how you wish you would  have done something to help.

Daddy and I want you to know that it's okay to make mistakes like that.  The feeling you have of "I wish I would have…." is God whispering to you that you will get it right next time. Or, you can tell your teacher and then us - we are all on your team.

You see honey, you don't have to be the smartest person in class.  You don't have to spell every single word right or solve every math problem perfectly.  It's okay to make mistakes.  We will still love you.

What's really important is that you listen to God - He is that kind thought you have, or the feeling you get when you need to help someone.  God is in your heart, wherever you go.  He will help you make decisions and help you admit when you make a mistake.

Your daddy and I love you so much and we are proud of the girl you are.

Love,
Mama and Daddy

Lost Teeth

Annessa has been on a tooth losing spree.  She loses her teeth in two ways: first out of her mouth, and then she literally loses them.  She talks to them and carries them with her the day that they fall out, knowing that tomorrow, the Tooth Fairy will come and whisk them away forever.

Freakin' Tooth Fairy.

So far, out of the four that have fallen out, two have made it into the Tooth Fairy's hands.  Never mind that I have know idea what I, the Tooth Fairy, am supposed to do with these two teeth.  It seems a little….morbid?….to keep a box of tiny teeth hidden away somewhere.  And what if she find this box? Then everything will unravel -- the Tooth Fairy, then Santa, the Easter Bunny, Elf on the Stupid Shelf, leprechauns….

So, what did I do with these two remaining teeth?  I (gasp) Threw. Them. Away.  It's tough love people.

But, with each tooth that falls out, I can't help but think, "Here's another piece of childhood.  Gone.  You better get your shit together."

She will be in first grade in a month.  Kids remember stuff from first grade.  Childhood (in their minds) starts somewhere around 1stish grade.  And all I can think of is that it is halfway over already.

In another seven years, she will be a teenager.  We have seven years left to shape her childhood.  I want her to remember a house full of love and fun.  Expectations, of course, but love and fun.

So that means I need to get my shit together.  I need to plan fun trips, traditions, playdates…..Wait.  No.

I need to get my shit together in a different way.  Pancake mornings, smartphone-free days, walks in the woods, popcorn in bed.  I need to resist the urge to feel pressured and hurried and over-booked.  I need to breath her in every day.  I need to honor the girl that she is and nurture the one she is becoming.

Because before I know it, all of these tiny teeth will be replaced by big, akward-looking jaggity ones.  Then, my job will be to help her smooth out the jaggity ones during adolescent years.  Childhood will be a thing of the past, and middle school will be upon us.

I think I will crawl back in bed and snuggle her awhile.

Wedding Dresses, Husbands, and Work

An entry I found saved as a "draft" from a few months ago….

Today I watched my youngest sister-in-law try on her wedding dress.  She was gorgeous and beaming in bridal beauty.  We fussed over the details of the dress, tried on lots of bridesmaids dresses (and ended up with one that doesn't look "bridesmaidy" at all).  In this situation, every married woman probably flashes back to the day she picked out her own wedding gown.  Whether it was a sundress pulled from the back of our closet or a designer creation, we had a feeling - "This is it." For some of us, it was a confident declaration, and for others of us, it sounded more like, "This is it.  I think.  Right?"

If we were to be completely honest, choosing a husband is no different.  Some of us are confidently sure that he is THE ONE.  While others (a fewer camp, I'm sure) would say, "Honestly, I had a few questions in my mind…"

During all of the preparations that led up to my wedding, people said things like, "Marriage is work,"
 and, "You have to be willing to put in more that you will get in return."  I thought they were crazy, jaded wives who had clearly lost touch of the romance and butterflies that I would surely ALWAYS feel.

But, those old married women?  Yeah.  They were telling the truth.  Marriage is work.  Not work in the sense that your back will be sore, but work in the sense that your mind and heart and soul will be sore at times.

But, for the right one, it's all worth it.  

A Woman's Never-ending Battle

So, I wrote this a year ago, and I'm still not sure I have the answers….I guess it's a never-ending battle. 

May 14th, 2013

I like this font.  I never use it, but it reminds me of the “good ole days” for some reason.  Maybe that’s because it’s called typewriter and I equate typewriters with the days when women were stay-at-home moms and if they ventured out of the house, it was to be some man’s secretary.

I know what I am about to say is very controversial, but it’s where I am in my life right now.  I used to think women could do it all – be a great wife, mother, friend, family member, and have a high-powered career too.  That was before I became a mom of two young girls.  That was BEFORE I stopped lying to myself.  In reality, Ann Taylor suits DO NOT contain super-power threads that enable working moms to do everything well, even though Kate Hudson makes it look that way.

Now I think “having it all” robs you of your sanity.  Women today are TIRED.  We are crying out for purpose and, well, sleep. 

As a full-time, working mom, I feel like my life is defined by one word – hurry.  Hurry and get everyone out of the door on time.  Hurry to make it past the railroad tracks before that stupid train comes through (seriously – there isn’t a better time for a train then 7:16 am when the world is scrambling to get to work?  I mean, have some courtesy!).  Hurry to go to the bathroom before the bell rings (I’m a teacher).  Hurry to get dinner on the table before soccer.  Hurry to get in the tub after soccer because 9:00 bedtime  = bitchy kid in the morning.  Then Whew – lie down and do it all over again.

Where is the time to linger?  To reflect?  To grow?  As a woman, we’d like to think that the bulk of the child-rearing doesn’t fall on us – that’s it’s a team effort, but come on.  Have you ever seen this 50/50 crap done successfully?  Could it be that by trying to have it all, we really don’t have anything? Okay – that’s a harsh statement, but what I mean is, we are so divided that maybe the sum of the parts doesn’t equal a full, content life.

I think we are caught between decades, trying to figure out if a “balance” exists.  We don’t want to kick it all the way back to the 40s and 50s where in order to be heard, we had to speak through our men, yet this year-2000s pace is tiring us out. 

So, what’s the answer?  I have no frickin’ idea.  Don’t have kids if you want a career?  Don’t have a career if you want kids?  Both seem so….so….anti-something. 

Then, to top it all off, our greatest calling is to be disciples.  That’s our real purpose on Earth.  Because this life as we know it is here today, gone tomorrow.  Maybe we need to have an eternal perspective first, then fit in the earthly stuff.  What does that look like?  I’m not sure.  Probably different for everyone.  That’s the sucky part.  There is no clear pattern that women “should” follow.  Follow our guts, I guess, and live life so that in ten years, we won’t look back on this decade of our lives wishing we could go back and change our priorities. 

Sidekicks

Excuse me while I brush the dust off of this blog. 

There - that's better.

Lately, I've been experiencing one of the most powerful phenomenons of my life: sisterhood.  I don't have a sister, so I never really knew what it was like to have another girl your age-ish in the house, experiencing life alongside you.  I had my theories - none of which even come close to what I see between my two girls.

No one can make Lainey light up as much as Annessa.  Lanes can just hear her voice and her arms start waving, her smile gets bigger and she scans the room, looking for her sister.

And, likewise, no one can make Annessa light up quite like Elaina.

They play. Annessa, literally dragging Elaina around the house and putting her in a pretend tiger cage, a bus (overturned stool), or pretending she is the babysitter and Elaina is the kid (that one is my personal favorite).

They read.  Annessa sitting on a chair, holding the book like her teacher and storytelling; Lainey, captivated.

They laugh.  Oh boy do they get each other laughing - in the car, in the tub, at the dinner table…..

All the while Rich and I look on and watch this magical bond being built right before our eyes.

(Now, this isn't to say there are no side effects to having a sister - one major side effect being she rifles through stuff you don't want her touching.  And, as they grow, I'm sure there will be lots of door slamming and huffy moments.  But this post is about the beauty of sisterhood, so we will leave the subtle realities for another day.)   

One of the best parts of this relationship is seeing a whole new side to Annessa.  She has taken on the role of a sister with flying colors - she is Lainey's playmate, protector, and friend.  No longer is she moving through life on her own, now she has a sister.  A sidekick.

As a mom, nothing makes me more happy than seeing my girls become each other's sidekicks.

Stationery Card

Stationery Card

View the entire collection of cards.

Elaina's 9 Month List

Dear Elaina,

There are some things about you that I don't want to forget:

*Whenever you are happy, you shimmy
*Your face lights up when your sister comes in the room.  In fact, you can be mid-cry, and if Annessa comes by you, you stop and smile.
*You are the most content little baby ever - you hardly cry or fuss
*You have the biggest, brightest smile
*You really have no interest in crawling - you are just happy to play with anything in your reach -- even if it's a piece of fuzz!
*You still sing yourself to sleep.....
*You love to snuggle with me at the end of the day
*You make me want to quit my job and stay home with you -- now that's an accomplishment!
*Daddy calls you "Bobble-head" because of your perfectly round face and the way you shimmy.
*You make Daddy want to have another baby -- you are THAT good!
*At nine months, you bring so much joy to our house.

You Are One Amazing Baby

Dear Elaina,

So, I just have to say that you are nothing short of amazing.  You are just the most chill baby I have ever seen (and you happen to be mine - how lucky am I?!).  Wherever we go, people comment on three things:

1) "Look at that smile!"

2) "She is so content/happy/mellow...(insert your own synonym for good here)." and

3) "Look at those cheeks!"

Last month, we took you to NYC, and you never cried - not once!  You were just so happy and observant.  You talk (da, da, da, da, - of course dad thinks you are talking about him) and (na, na, na, na, na - Naturally, Annessa believes this is your way of saying her name.) all the time and you still sing yourself to sleep.

Sleep -- that's one area I am screwing you up on.  With your sister, I was a hard-core sleep trainer.  But with you, we just snuggle and swing and rock and bounce until you fall asleep.  I think it's because Annessa taught me how fast this baby stage goes and I just want to squeeze every last bit out of it that I can.  

Annessa adores you (as do your dad and I).  You two already have a cute relationship.  She dances and sings and reads to you, and you just sit there - enthralled.  When she walks into the room, you just light up.  It is seriously the sweetest thing. She calls you "Lainy" and "Lainy-Bear".  Seeing the two of you together just melts me.  

I love you to the moon and back,

Mama

The Lies We Tell Ourselves

"Go ahead - buy that - you can totally afford it."

"I will train for that half marathon....Just as soon as the weather gets nice."

"I'm a really great cook....When I cook."

"I will finish that scrapbook BEFORE the baby turns one."

And, my personal favorite: "I could NEVER be a stay-at-home-mom.  I just don't know HOW they do it!"

Yep - I'm pretty sure that the last one was a big fat lie I kept repeating over and over until I *mostly* believed it.  If I convinced myself that I was one of those superhuman moms who could do it all - a career, a family, and a social life all without shortchanging anything, then I felt better about leaving my kid(s) with someone else all day.

But now, if I am brutally honest with myself, I know that I was making myself believe a lie.  Because in fact, I COULD be a stay-at-home-mom.  The last three months of my life were the happiest months I've ever had.  I felt more.....connected....to myself and everyone around me and to God.  Each day I drank in the wonders of my kids. I fell in love with them all throughout the day.

For me, going back to work has made me put up a barrier between me and my kids.  Isn't that awful?  It's the only way I can do it right now.  I tell myself things like,  "Millions of moms do this everyday - suck it up.  No crying.  Heart of steel," and all that jazz.

I know that by working, I am making a difference too - my girls will see a woman with a career that she loves.  They will know the importance of education and determination.  They will see me as a person outside the home.

Thank God I love my job.  I love the kids, my school, my co-workers.  I am happy when I am teaching.  I really am.  And thank God for our sitter who is amazing.  But it's when I stop to look at the clock and realize it's nap time and wonder if Elaina is being rocked to sleep right now that my heart hurts.  Or that it's 11:15 and Annessa is getting off the bus telling someone that is not me about her day at school.

Being a mom is hard - I don't care if you're a mom who works outside of the home or a S.A.H.M. - we all have to make choices about how to raise our kids, and sometimes those choices are not as clear-cut as we would like.

Anyway -- it's Sunday night and I have a lunch to pack and papers to grade.  And a beautiful little girl that is stirring quietly about to wake up and another little girl who needs some snuggle time.

Holy Crap

You wouldn't believe this moment if you saw it - I promise.  I know because I felt like it was either a dream or a nightmare - can't decide which one!

Let's start with the nightmare part:  We've all been there -- public place, baby, poop all the way up the back (threatening to touch the hairline if it hadn't been caught in just the nick of time).  Yep- disgusting.

We were in Madison at the Boston store when the explosion began.  I turned to my mom, who was trying on shoes, and said, "Better go - stinky here needs to be changed."  Sensing that this was gonna be good, daughter number one came along to join in the fun.

Somewhere between unpacking my poop-bomb and wondering if I have enough wipes, Annessa says, "Mom, was I ever baptized?  Payton had show-and-tell today, and she told us about her baptism."

Now,  about baptism.  I understand that it's a very sensitive subject for some people.  Rich and I do the whole "Believer's Baptism" where you choose to express your faith and obey God AFTER you have surrendered your life to Him and His will.  (After all, Jesus was baptized as an adult, as was everyone else in the Bible.  But I digress.....) If this is against everything you believe in, that's okay.  I understand.  Just keep reading.  It gets good, I promise.

 This was one of those moments I had imagined having with her in front of a fire or on a picnic or something dreamy like that.  But.  Of course. Reality doesn't work the way our minds picture it.  So.  I took a deep breath (of stinky air) and began to explain this to Annessa.

"Well, I believe in God mom.  Can I be baptized?"

"Hmmm....Do you know what sin is?"

"No."

"Sin is when we do something that we know is wrong, but we do it anyway.  We all sin.  Like everyday." I said, wondering if that was an acceptable answer for a five-year-old.  Suddenly all of the "churchy" people flashed before my eyes, and I hoped this explanation was biblically correct.

Now, let's not forget the poop.  Oh, the poop.  And while your at it, add some crying to that mental movie you have going on.

"So, in order to be baptized," I continued above the desperate cries from daughter number two to get me to stop holding her legs in air and wiping her back with a cold wipe.  I mean come on, doesn't everyone like the warm feeling of poop on their backs?  "You have to believe that God sent his son, Jesus to die on the cross for our sins. That means we can go to Heaven someday and be with God because Jesus helped us."

 Holy crap.  Literally.  I was preaching the gospel in the midst of what was quite possibly the worst crap Elaina had ever taken.

"I believe that mom.  I do."

Music to my ears.  My child confessing her faith to me... How blessed am I?  Seriously?

Now, is this something she really believes or does she "just" want to go through the pomp and circumstance of a baptism?  I kinda think it's a little of both.  Either way, it's moments like these that, as a mom, I know I was put on earth to have.  What could be better than sharing Jesus' love with your child?

 Expect maybe if it didn't involve a boat load of crap.  

The Second Time Around

My baby is two months old today.  Two months.  My maternity leave will be ending soon and as I compare it to Annessa's, it's 180 degrees different.

With Annessa I was unsure about my ability to be a mom (unsure is putting it lightly).  My need to do it "perfectly" stood in the way of bonding with my newborn.  I remember doing silly things like sticking a thermomitor into her bath water to make sure it was the exact degree that the all-mighty internet told me it should be.  I ran a tight ship - all feedings were exactly 3 hours apart; then 4 hours apart.  There was a lot of bouncing and pacifying to achieve this perfect schedule.  This schedule was my pathway to sleeping through the night - nothing - not even a trip to the mall would cause me to veer from these internet-ordained feeding times.  Good bedtime habits start early, you know.  Ha! I wish my 27 year old self could see my first daughter's bedtime habits now -- she would be mortified.

But this time....this time is sooo much different.  I feel more confident (ironic how feeling more confident as a mom means KNOWING that you will screw up and being okay with that).  There was no insecurity that stood in the way of bonding with Elaina.  I finally understand it when people say, "I feel in love with her the moment I saw her." Now, this isn't to say that I didn't feel love for Annessa right away -- I did.  It's just that the "Holy-shit-I'm-a-mom" factor clouded all that love until I got my head out of my a$$. As a dear friend advised, I started to take my cues from my baby instead of  baby books written by people I didn't know about babies that were off in some far away land living perfect little baby lives.  Come to think of it, I have know idea where those baby books I read so religiously the first time are at the moment....

The first time around, I felt like I was playing the part of being a mom.  Washing the bottles, changing diapers, giving baths, and, oh yeah, dressing her up like she was my little doll.  I'm not sure when the role-plahying stopped and I settled into my new title of mom, but I think it was somewhere around her first smile....I remember that moment so vividly (which is a triumph for me as Rich would tell you that I have the memory of a goldfish).  She had me at the smile.

With Elaina, our lives were already altered.  She slipped right into our Friday nights at home.  Our family bed (I know, I know...NOT what I planned, but it is what it is.  Refer to earlier posts for very rational explanations of why this thing I said I would "NEVER do" happened.  Next thing you know I will be rollin' around town in a people carrier.)

This time around, I even love her cry.  I know, pathetic, but true.  And you know what I love the most?  Seeing my two greatest accomplishments love each other.

Dear Elaina,

Do you know that your name means light?  That you were the light that shined through the darkness (John 1:5)?

Do you know how much we adore you?  I can't stop holding you, Daddy is mesmerized by everything you do, and Annessa pretends to be your mom. 

Do you know what a calm, relaxed baby you are?  Maybe you have calmer parents than Annessa did (the second time around is SOOO much easier), or maybe you just have a calm disposition. 

Do you know how fast you're growing?  You're exactly one month and 10 minutes old as I type this, yet I feel like you were born only yesterday.

Do you know how beautiful you are?  You have the roundest cheeks, the most perfect mouth and the bluest eyes. 

Do you know how happy you make us just by being you? 

Now you know. 

I love you so much it's unreal,
Mama

What's in a Name?

Okay, so I'm a big believer in finding out the meaning behind a name.  Not that I think the meaning of a name defines who a person is, I just find it interesting.  For example, Rich's name means "Great and powerful ruler" and in this case, it suits him.  It is also his grandpa's name.  I would substitute "leader" for "ruler, " but that's just semantics. 

So, when choosing a name for our second daughter, it was important to me that the name have some sort of meaning.  What?  I didn't know, but I just wanted there to be a story behind how she got her name. 

So - here's the story (I will make it quick).  We knew right away that her middle name would be Ruth.  Not the most beautiful, girly name, but it's Rich's late grandma's name.  The name sounds strong and so was she.  Following the unexpected death of her husband, Rich, she raised her two kids (Rich's dad and his Aunt Betty) as a single mom, living on the top floor of her brother's house.  I have always admired her fun attitude and through Rich's stories about her, I imagine her to be an atypical grandma: throwing pitches to her grand kids and letting them eat Spagettios in front of the TV.

As for a first name.....Now that was tricky.  I liked Eliza (joy) and Alexandra (my imaginary daughter's name when I was in high school).  Rich?  Skyler, Haley and a bunch of other names that we just couldn't agree on.  Then one night, he came to bed and said, "How about Elaina?"  Not bad.  Except for the fact that Elaina is a character on Vampire Diaries - not exactly the story I imagined behind the name....But - I liked it.  So maybe I just needed to get over myself?  Right?

Naw.  I did a little Google research (as any normal person would) and found out that Elaina means "light."  Hmm - light.  Well, now what?  Light is nice, but it's not exactly screaming with meaning.  Until i found this verse in John: "The light will shine through the darkness.  That darkness will never overcome the light."  Well.  There. You.  Have. It.

Elaina is our light that shines through a very, very dark two years.  She is the light that her sister, mom , and dad prayed hard for, and she is the surprising gift from God that we so desperately needed. 

To us, she is God saying, "Here - here is your little light.  You have made it through a dark time and you still believe.  So here is my perfect gift to you." 

In just a few weeks, we will welcome our new light into our lives with open arms.