Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Personality

Addie’s new favorite game is to get right in your face. Her eyes widen, she gets intense. Then she pushes you slowly back, grunting like she’s exerting LOTS of effort (even when you are playing along and fall back willingly). You fall back and make a pretend crash sound. Sometimes she comes along for the ride and giggles and squeals in delight. You lay there, motionless. She grabs your shirt, or neck or arm and grunts like she’s sloooooooooooowly pulling you back up and exerting even more effort than when she pushes you down. She looks even more intense. Repeat. I love funny Addie.



Another silly little game is pretending she is taking bites of pretend soup from a little spoon out of an empty bowl. I wasn’t aware of how soon imaginary play begins, but it delights her to no end to “feed” us.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Easy Button

Gillian's sleep/more severe behavior problems? Eliminate nap (CHECK). So much better now. She's dead asleep by 8:30 most nights.

Addie's granite bullet poops? THE RIGHT WATER CUP (with straw). (check). Now she has diarrhea in the bathtub every night :/ , but at least she's not miserable anymore. Amazing what hydration can do for you! But, what's with incomplete digestion with these babies? I totally recognize what's coming out the other end. Kinda like a scavenger hunt. Hee!

Just a couple of musings. Life is gooooooooooooooooood.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

One Year Old

Today, you are one year old. You are a ray of sunshine-pure and sweet and good-a bundle of innocence. Even at the tender age of almost-four, Gillian has started to lose that absolute untarnished purity. But for now, you my angel, feel only unprocessed emotions-and they are 90% love. No manipulation, no bartering, no negotiation, no story telling, no tantrums, no grudges; just forgiving, and generous, and precious. I have kissed you a million times. I love to inhale the intoxicating smell of your sweet head. I nibble on your chubby little toes. Your smile humbles me, every time. Your delighted squeals when I kiss your neck or belly or feet are music to me.

When I watch you stagger down the hall with your new walking skills and babbling about Something Very Important, I get this sting of grateful tears-that God has entrusted me with your precious soul-MY beautiful baby. Pure as new fallen snow. I get the privilege of watching you explore, and discover, and learn for a lifetime. I wasn’t sure I had enough room for you in my heart next to Gillian, but you taught me that my heart is endlessly vast. I am reminded every time I fall in love with you all over again. Every time I open the door in the morning and you greet me with excitement (to know, without question how important I am to you); every time you bestow me with an open mouthed kiss, every time you pat me back when I hold you so tight after your before-bed nursing, every time you triumphantly show me some new wonder (and for you, they truly never cease) and remind me of how magnificent this world is-flawed and all-through your eyes, completely perfect right now… And I wish I could put how we feel in these moments in a time capsule, the love we have for each other.

For now, I want you to know, on your first birthday, how infinitely you are loved. How I absolutely adore you. How I rise and fall on your laughter and tears. How there is no good that exists that I will not fight to give to you. How I will move heaven and earth to protect you. You are the manifestation of my sweetest dreams, and I know how blessed I am. I promise to work every day to be worthy of the gift you are to me.

A little poem for you that I have always loved, my darling:

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every [flaxen J] tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent.
-Lord Byron

Love, Mama