That's Just It.

The other day I heard another mother talking about her son. When he was a newborn he suffered from seizures. Because he was so young tests were inconclusive as to the cause. So for several weeks this mother stayed inside with her son. She stayed awake with her son. She never left her son. Think about that. Weeks of being inside. Awake and alone. Watching your baby have seizures.

And while she waited for him to be old enough for doctors to determine what was wrong with him she said she wished repeatedly that whatever was wrong with his new little brain could be put into hers. She wished that she could have the seizures for him.

And that's just it, isn't it? That's the stuff that makes life worth living. When you love someone so much that would wish you could suffer in their place. It's terrifying and exhilirating, painful and joyful, all at the same time.

That's what this time of year is about to me. Having people in your life, whether it be children, spouses, parents, siblings, or friends, that you love that much. What else is there? For the life of me I can't think of anything.

There Are Worse Things

....than having to spend a sick day at home with Blake.

And even though she's feeling a bit under the weather, the weather did her good.

Because if you do find yourself sick, why not be sick outside. And have your gatorade on a quilt with the sun on your face.

And let your mom take weird, one handed pictures.

But before you start thinking being sick in this is house is all sunshine and quilts I'd like to set the record straight. Prior to becoming a mother I would be lying if I said there weren't at least a few times thoughts of cleaning up vomit and really dirty diapers crossed my mind. It's just gross, right? And it doesn't take much to make me gag. But everyone tells you, "It's different when it's your child." Well, I've now cleaned both up (multiple times over the past few days) and I would just like to say that it's actually not different. It really is every bit as disgusting as you would imagine. The only difference is that you have to clean it up because it is your child. So there. I just needed to get that off my chest. Now, let's go back to the sunshine and quilts. It's much more pleasant.

Don't you agree?

Obligatory

Blake, age 7 months, did not seem to understand Halloween.

See Exhibit A.

But we still dressed her up, went to a Fall Festival, and trick o' treated with some friends.

There's a certain amount of pressure with holidays...especially first holidays. And let's be honest, Blake has no clue. Nevertheless, here are the obligatory first Halloween photos. If she ever asks I'll have them to show her.

And earlier in the month with my Aunt Sarah, who I love.

So if or when she does decide she needs to see these or any other obligatory photos I'll happily show them to her. But I'll also tell her while I love these special occasions there are few things more memorable to me than playing peek-a-boo, sitting on the floor watching her roll around, or listening to her babble in her bed. The ordinary occasions are my favorite.

She Is The...

Dreamer of wonderful dreams.

Smiler of many smiles.

Grower of tiny teeth.

Keeper of the key to our hearts.

And she is very deeply loved.

Time Flies

They say time flies when you're having fun. I think they should add raising a baby. But raising a baby is fun so maybe they (whoever they is) thought they covered it. Anyway. It seems impossible that Blake is 6 whole months old. Six months ago she never slept longer than four hours at a time, couldn't hold her head up, certainly wasn't eating peaches like it was her job, and definitely didn't have her very own tiny tooth. I can't even think what she'll doing in six more months. 

Six months ago I had never in my life gone to a party with poop on my outfit, broken out in a cold sweat going through security at the airport, or spent more than approximately 1 minute thinking about the flu...swine or otherwise. 

We've covered quite a bit of ground in the past six months. And if I had one wish these days it would be that life had a pause button. Or at least a slow down button. It just goes by so stinking fast. (Too fast, if you want my opinion.) So in lieu of buttons I'll stick with loving and cherishing and memorizing every single day that Blake lets me rock her to sleep, carry her in a sling, change her diaper, and feed her pureed fruits and veggies. I'll stick with playing on the floor, making silly faces, and watching her face light up the second she sees Griff or hears his voice.

The only thing I might not stick with is wearing her poop on my clothes and jackets in security lines. Both induce cold sweats and mild to moderate panic attacks. 

In the meantime here are some pictures from B's very first pumpkin patch. I'm pretty sure she was the cutest one there. 

Help.

Griff had to work tonight. He is usually the one who handles any and all “nighttime routines.” To include bathing and rocking.  It’s his and Blake’s time together, and they both love it. But, like I said, he had to work tonight.

So we get the bottle and bath done. It’s not the same as with Dad, but we made it work. We move on to the rocking. I love to rock Blake, and we do it quite a bit.  But I don’t do the bedtime rocking.

We’re listening to a cd, lights out, just rocking away when I decide that we should probably start getting in the habit of saying some kind of nighttime prayers.

(At this point I feel a bit obligated to say that I’m not great at praying. Yes, I pray but it generally seems so one-sided to me at times. Dear Jesus, please help me with a, b, c, d, and on and on and on. Forgive me this and that. There are so many other people who need things so way worse than me. Help them. Please. The starving babies and homeless people need a bed and a good meal way more than I need patience. Counting to 10 (or 100) usually does the trick. Anyway, generally I feel like I’m whining. )

But when it comes to Blake boy oh boy can I pray.  A lot. So we (me) start. It goes a little something like this: Dear Jesus, Please protect Blake. Help her to know she is loved, and that because she is loved she must show love to others. Make her compassionate and kind. Help her be sensitive to the needs of others. STOP.  WHOA. TIME OUT.

Sensitive people are prone to getting their feelings hurt. How can you truly be compassionate if you haven’t known what it means to need it? Loving other people is risky.  Don’t get me wrong, we want Blake to be kind and compassionate. We want to her love, especially the unlovable. But these things don’t come easy. So I, naturally, begin to panic. Meanwhile she is sleeping peacefully in my arms. In the bed she goes while I begin to have a serious talk with God. Don’t you know He just loved that.

It went a little something like this: God we really want Blake to be a good, kind, compassionate person. We want her to love the people no one else does. Really. We promise. We want her to commit herself to you when she’s ready. But You, God, can be a bit risky at times. And risk is great, but, you know, Blake is my daughter. So, if we could figure out a way to accomplish this without getting too risky that would be really fantastic.

Excellent. Thanks. Amen.

It took about 5 seconds for me to realize how ridiculous that was. It took another 5 to slump on the couch. The reality of this parenting situation is that it’s basically terrifying. I am terrified.

I would love to think that I can protect her all the time from any and every bad thing that might come across her path.  But that’s unrealistic. And what kind of a person would she be anyway? So I asked, and will continue to ask, for the only thing running through my head at that moment: help. Help to know when to let her fall and when to step in. Help to know what to say she hurts. Help. For every single thing. Help. 

A Little Change Never Hurt Anyone

If I had a dollar for every time someone told me how much my life was going to change after having Blake, coupled with a dollar for every time since that I've been asked how much it has changed, then I can promise you the brown fall riding boots I've been eyeing for several months now would be resting comfortably in my closet. But alas, no dollars were exchanged and as such there are no riding boots in my closet. 

Yes, life is different. Totally different. Lots of changes were expected. I sleep less, shower whenever I can, make every effort to get my workouts in at 5 (in the am, people), eat one handed, and often smell at least mildly of spit up. Those were all things to be expected. 

Then there were things that I expected, but not to the degree that I have experienced them. I knew I would love her, a lot. I didn't know that her cries could make me physically ache. I knew I would be protective. I didn't know that I would contemplate skipping a Coldplay concert so I wouldn't have to leave her for an evening. Yes, I figured milestones would be exciting. I did not know that watching her roll over for the first time would make watching Michael Phelps at the Olympics almost forgetable. 

And then, of course, there are the things you can't quite possibly prepare for. The lack of caring over the realization that your needs no longer come first, or the weight that comes with the responsibility of raising her. The complete and total joy to be had in every single smile and laugh and coo. Moments of frustration and fear. Total exhaustion. Some days it's harder than we ever imagined. Other days feel like a walk in the park. But I would still take a hard day with Blake over an easy one without her.  

Adios, Cole.

I'm not a fan of goodbye's. At all. In fact, they might be my very least favorite thing. They rank somewhere below dentist appointments. Seriously. Not. A. Fan.

So this past Sunday wasn't my favorite day of the summer because we had to say goodbye to our friend, Cole. For the past several weeks he's taken up residence in our extra bedroom while he worked for the summer with Griff. 

If you know me you know there are few things I love more than a full house or a full dinner table. Every bedroom occupied. Every chair filled. It's the best. And Cole is family. Perhaps not in the literal sense but who really wants to be that nit picky? 

We actually got quite a bit accomplished during his stay. I tried some new recipes. (Eggplant is not a crowd pleaser. Grilled chicken with honey mustard dressing is.) It may have been established that caucasian men might not be the best candidates for certain hair styles. But if you ever do find yourself with a head full of wax palmolive does the trick. We laughed. A lot. I think we even solved a few of life's bigger problems. 

And then on Sunday it was time for him to pack up his stuff and head back home. The house was too quiet. The table was too empty. But all good things must come to an end, right? I don't really see why but that's neither here nor there. 

Thanks for a great summer Cole. We miss you. Don't forget that there's always a place at our table and room down the hall. 

What I Did Today

Today I held Blake while she slept. I did not finish the laundry, or get a jumpstart on dinner. I did not text or return phone calls. I did not finish the book I am reading (and loving). I held Blake while she slept. 

I did this because I'm certain there is going to come a day when I really, really want to hold her and won't be able to. She'll be too old. Or at school. Or with friends. From what I've heard, when this day comes I probably won't remember exactly what phone calls didn't get returned. Or what dinner didn't get prepared ahead of time. Or even what book didn't get finished.

But I will look back on this day and remember that I held her when I could. I will remember what it felt like to hold her tiny, sleeping body while whispering how much she is loved. 

I'm sure there is some book that warns about exactly this type of situation and the bad sleeping habits it breeds. In fact it's probably on a bookshelf in this very house. But rules annoy me so it can stay on the shelf, and I'll go back to holding my baby while she sleeps. 

Simple.

A few days ago I found myself sitting in the airport at a restaurant. If I remember correctly I was trying to eat a nutritionally void meal (that was quite good), wipe spit-up off of whoever was holding Blake at the time, and find a clean outfit and diaper in my bag. Simultaneously. 

At the same time my niece, Madyson, who is both totally fearless and curious was up to her usual antics...entertaining anyone who would watch with funny faces, gestures, and words. Now I happen to think that being fearless and curious is a delightful combination. I would love to see the world through Madyson's eyes. However, I am certain there are moments, or will be moments, when her parents think otherwise. 

I digress. 

So Madyson spots a big yellow dog. An adorable dog. And this particular dog was traveling with a lady in a wheelchair. It seems his job was to do the things she couldn't. And Madyson wanted to meet this dog. Now being that it was an assistance dog we weren't sure if was okay for her to introduce herself. So Jay, top-notch dad that he is, diverted her attention by pointing out the shiny floor tiles that showed her reflection. And so she became totally engrossed with, well, herself. We moved on.

The lady in wheelchair did not. The particular restaurant we were in wasn't the fanciest place you will ever eat. The tables and chairs were bolted to the floor, and quite close together. Clearly the designer had maximum occupancy in mind. For several minutes she weaved her wheelchair in and out of tight places. Here. There. Little to the left. Little to the right. She had her own nutritionally void meal to consume. Her own plane to catch. But she didn't seem to be concerned with that. And several minutes later she was near our table. Telling us it was okay for Madyson to pet her dog. All that work just to tell us Madyson, who had moved on, could say hi to her dog. 

I think it was one of the most genuine and pure acts of kindness I have ever seen. It seems so simple, really. Sure, you can meet my dog. Except that for her it's not so simple. It's not just a dog. It's her helper. It does the things she can't. It helps take her where she needs to go. This dog needs to focus. And she couldn't just walk over and say, "Hey, I saw your little girl looking at Rover. She's welcome to pet him." It took lots of time. And effort. And I bet her food was cold. But she didn't seem to be concerned by the logistics. 

I don't think I'll ever forget it. And the thing is I bet she will. I could be wrong, but in that one simple act she seemed to me the kind of person who does kind things all the time. 

Seems simple, right?

I like to share, really.

I like to share. I promise. Share what? Well, just about anything. Clothes, shoes, jewelry, makeup, something from my kitchen, even my car. What's the fun in having something you love if you can't spread a little love around, right? There's really just a few things I'm not to keen on sharing. Toothbrushes come to mind. Eyeliner. Knickers. Oh, and most recently...the little pumpkin you see above. 

I keep reminding myself of a quote from one of Griff's books. Don't ask me which one as there are quite possibly a million in our house. The lady writing is talking about her child and says that "She is mine to hold, not to possess" or something along those lines. It's got me thinking. 

Blake is a gift. The best gift we have ever been given. For whatever reason God blessed us, two people who knew shockingly little about babies, with a beautiful and perfect one. He shared. But I have to share, too. I have to trust. Just like we are being trusted to do everything we can to take care of this gift, I have to trust that when things are out of our control there is someone we can trust. The someone that gave her to us in the first place. When she goes places we can't, like kindergarten, or her first slumber party, her first date, the first time she drives a car alone, or rides with a friend, or any other time I have to share, there is someone with her. Watching. Protecting. Loving. And He's probably a little better at it than I am. 

This is the face....

Blake made when she found out she was getting another cousin!! Well, not exactly THE face. She's only 12 weeks old so she probably didn't understand EXACTLY what I was trying to tell her. However, I can tell she is is quite excited to meet Aunt Abby, Uncle Jay and Maddie's newest addition next January! Abby and Jay are basically awesome when it comes to lots of things, but especially parenting. Seriously, I call her everyday (usually twice) to ask something(s). And Jay can calm a baby down faster than just about anyone I know.  

Maddie is going to have her hands full teaching all these new little ones everything she knows. Congrats Lea's! We couldn't be happier for you!

Blake's Dedication Day....

"Love is the unfamiliar Name

Behind the hands that wove

The intolerable shirt of flame

Which human power cannot remove

We only live, only surpise

Consumed by either fire or fire"

- TS Eliot

"Mary did not always understand. But one does not have to understand to be obedient."

- Madeleine L'Engle

With Pastor Phil....

With the Lundgren family....

With the Martin family....

Being dedicated by Pastor Phil....

With Mom and Dad....

My new toy....

Headshot....

Finally An Update So GranGran does not have to look at the town gowns.....

With my new best friend Cole who tells me Troll Stories

In my new Blue Blockers...

Just being me....

First swim with Dad....

With Mom before my big swim....

Does it get any better?

Every day is a new journey....

Still don't love The Burp....

I am all smiles now....

I sleep just like my Dad....

My New Favorite Things....

Town Gowns and shopping with Mom and Sarah

Stretching it out.....

Wake Up Time....

Being held at dinner time (and teaching Mom and Dad the art of eating with one hand)....

Trying to sit up.....

Still the pacifier.....

My new friend Bo who came to meet me this weekend....

Bed time clothes....

Spa Wraps during bath time (washcloths to keep me warm)....

Today....

At this time, it is now. At midnight tomorrow, it will be now. And at high noon in a thousand years, it will still be now. Learning to respond to now is all there is to learn. The now is potentially happy because it is already filled with God.

- Hugh Prather