Sisters

Morgan Stories

Morgan: "Mom, my dolly is named 'Diane'."

Emily: "Really? I thought it was 'Priscilla'."

Morgan: "'Priscilla'? That's a pretty name." (Thinking) "But no, this one is Diane. I think she saw someone die... that's why her name is Die...Ann."

Totally morbid, I know, but my girl is a thinker. 

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Morgan: "Mom, I'll tell you how to be smart: You THINK smart things and then you DO them. That's how you be smart. Let's tell Daddy how to be smart when he gets home."

Emily: "Daddy already is smart."

Morgan: "He's not smart like me. He's smart like Daddy. But he has to know the things I know to be smart."

Emily: "Oh."

Morgan: "And Eve is already smart. She can hold up her head. And she likes me. She's smart."

Dress Mess

Emily: "Morgan, I bought you a new dress! Come look!"

Morgan: "Mom, I do not like that dress because they have polka dots. I hate polka dots."

Emily: "No you don't. You have two dresses with polkas."

Morgan: "Well, I don't like them."

Emily: "Well, this isn't a polka dot dress; it has circles on it, not polkas." 

(It's not lying; it's semantics.)

Morgan: "Well I don't like it because it has LARGE polkas on it."

Emily: "Your other dress has even large polka dots on it."

Morgan: "No, those are BIG polka dots. I like BIG polka dots. But this one has LARGE polka dots on it."

Oh, for the love of Pete...

Emily: "Fine. You don't have to wear it. I'll return it."

Morgan: "Fine. I'll wear the dress I don't like."

I have no idea who won the argument. 

Pics, Pics

Just for Laughs

Thank You

Dear God,

Thank you for the crumbs on the kitchen table... evidence of the food you've provided.

Thank you for my unmade bed... and for the man and friend who slept there.

Thank you for the laundry mountain in my family room... for giving us clothes to wear.

Thank you for the messy office... and for the computer's way of keeping us connected with friends.

Thank you for the burp cloths that are scattered throughout the house... and for the little one who uses them.

Thank you for the craft supplies left on the table... and for my sweet Morgan who still is making Valentine cards and notes.

Thank you for the strange hop smell in my garage... and for the joy it brings my husband to brew his own beer.

Thank you for my weary body... evidence of a day packed full of life.

Valentine

A card. 

With five i*tunes picked especially for me:

1. Beatles "Here, There Everywhere"

2. DeBurgh's "Lady in Red"

3. Clapton's "Wonderful Tonight"

4. Morrison's "Have I Told You Lately"

5. McCartney's "Maybe I'm Amazed"

And reasons why he chose each song (for my eyes only). 

Thanks, Babe. I love these songs.

It's Time

Because I made these scrumptious cookies from Mar*tha Stewart...

We decided to buy this...

Let's just say Eve ain't the only one carrying around baby fat.

Eve Pics

A Mother's Letter

Nemo's Father: “I promised nothing would ever happen to him,” 

Dory responds: “But then nothing would ever happen to him.”

-Finding Nemo, movie

To my daughters:

What a week this has been. I've watched both of you grow in so many ways. Morgan, you have been copying letters onto paper and exclaiming "I am SO ready for kindergarten" all week. It brings a tear to my eye to know that just 5 years ago you were a wee one in my arms, just like your sister. And here you are, becoming more and more independent. 

Eve, you have been smiling and interacting much more this week. You especially love your activity mat which we borrowed from our friends, the Wises. You light up whenever you hear the music. You've grown over 3 pounds since birth. I love our bonding time over breastfeeding. You're beautiful, my dear. 

While my life has been largely spent taking care of you two lovely ladies, I have had to try not to let the cares of others weigh me down. Don't get me wrong... I LOVE and CARE for my friends dearly. But I have been having to exercise faith... that after I have prayed for friends I must leave them in Someone's arms who are far greater and stronger than mine. 

I wept for my friend who had fertility trouble.

I prayed bitterly for my unemployed friends.

I ached for the family that lost their sister in the plane crash. 

And through each session of prayer, I felt compelled to fight for joy and peace for our family. In order to honor the lives of those lost or to appreciate the light of each day, I feel strongly that we must live, smile, pray, eat, create, care and continue in this pattern. 

I'd love to promise you that "nothing will ever happen to you". But that's a silly thing to promise. I want great and wonderful things to happen to you. I already pray for your future mates, for your friendships and for your life experiences. I want you to enjoy the fullness of life, to "have an adventure", as you always say, Morgan. 

There is evil in the world and great sadness. But whenever you feel overwhelmed by the sin in this world, I want you to do something simple: look at nature. See the beauty in God's creation. See the way God melds form and function in the veins of a leaf. See God's fingerprint on that natural order: how the leaf knows when to be green, when to turn a brilliant fall hue and when to relinquish its hold. 

And then realize that that is just one leaf. His fingerprint and care is on every leaf of every tree. And every tree of every forest. How much more is his care upon you, beautiful daughters... made in his image.

Well, it's time for me to go to bed and rest for another packed day with you girls. I love you, I pray for you and I must entrust you and your adventures to Someone far greater than me.

Love, Mommy

Prayer

I opened my email this morning to get this message from my friend (and bridesmaid) Lauren Kausner: her sister-in-law had died in this plane crash  this morning. Lord, be with this family. And all the others. 

Here is an interview from my friend's husband this morning:

http://www.theglobeandmail.com/servlet/story/RTGAM.20090213.wvbuffalocrash0213/VideoStory/International/home?pid=RTGAM.20090212.wbuffalocrash0213

Conversations

Yesterday I took Morgan to ballet. I'm still getting the hang of this breastfeeding-child-just-in-time-to-go-out-the-door thing, so I was only able to feed Eve half. 

You gotta picture this: Me... in tailored pants but an old hoodie, smeared makeup, running through the rain with my little ballerina Morgan and a half fed baby. Hilarious. 

So I get hunkered down in the waiting area with the other parents and proceed to feed Eve with my special b**by hider thingamajig. 

Conversation #1:

Mom 1: "Oh, you're feeding her in public? That's a great little wrap you have there."

Mom 2: "I know. Can you believe some people feed their babies in public? I can't believe they do that."

Mom 1: "I know I never could. I was too embarrassed."

I'm trying to NOT concentrate on their conversation lest my milk supply shrivel out of embarrassment. I add my own two cents: "Yeah, I used to be embarrassed, too, but I found this great wrap which keeps me totally covered." 

Conversation #2:

To change the subject, I introduce myself and begin talking with one of the mothers' little girl.

 She tells me her name. And more: "Hi, my name is Chloe. My mom says bad words. I have to tell her not to."

Emily: "Oh. Well sometimes mommas are wrong. Good thing she has you." I give her mother a knowing look. Been there, lady.

But Chloe isn't finished: "Yeah, she says them a LOT. I have to tell her ALL the time to not say those words. But she still says them."

The mother is getting irritated. Chloe is about to expound on said words, but mother decides to have a "chat" with Chloe. 

Conversation 3:

Miss Ashley, the ballet teacher, tells us parents that we can join the class down the hall today. I'm getting the jist that it's expected. I'm comfortable breastfeeding in public, but it takes some work getting all the "gear" in place... Ugh. Just then Mom 1 and Mom 2 say, "C'mon, we'll help you." In a matter of seconds, they have gathered up my entire family's gear and are heading to the class. In a daze of gratitude, I continue breastfeeding infant and walk down the hall. Very weird experience, but nice to have help.

Being a mother sure has its funny moments.

Got Milk?

In our house, I don't do very much except feed Eve. In fact,  I started charting her feedings. She ate 13 times yesterday. Thirteen. Lands.

I decided to see a lactation consultant.

I thought there was a problem but after a bit of time in the land of lactation, the nice consultant told me that everything was going well, that a big fat baby is a nice problem to have and that I should brace myself for the hungry child I have born. 

So you'll have to forgive my earlier posts of complete despair because, well, I was in despair and completely beside myself with weariness. 

But today I can see the blessing that she is. I was reminded of this blessing when a precious friend found out today that her IVF procedure did not work as planned. I wept for her. So very, very frustrating. At the same time, I feel immense hope for her. I just do. I know it's way too early to tell her that, but I do. 

Now if you'll excuse me, I must get going... the lactation consultant said that due to my baby's size I can eat an extra 500 calories a day... and I intend to do just that. 

Veggies

If you eat your veggies...

You can play with your new toy...

Humbled

I'm humbled. Truly humbled.

For some reason, I thought that having a second child meant you had "seniority" when it came to child-rearing. Be able to pass over those awkward firsts with a little more grace and understanding. And for the most part it's true. 

But I am completely and totally humbled by the sheer effort it takes to do one thing: feed the children. I either had no idea or my mind was so traumatized by the first round of motherhood that it blocked out all recollection of this activity. 

For the record: I am totally in love with Morgan and Eve. Totally. They are the best people (next to Dan) who ever happened to me. 

And because I desperately wanted to have this baby, I told myself that I would give it all I got. Breastfeeding, enjoying the baby... I would enjoy every diaper wiping I could. I would keep myself rested so I could remember Morgan's funny quips and Eve's little firsts. It's a noble goal and somewhat attainable. 

So here's the humbling part: no amount of "mind over matter" will take away the bone-aching tiredness I have at the end of the day when my 5 year old is watching TV, fed herself random dry goods (Cheerios, mostly) and I'm sacked out, half naked with a baby girl chewing on me like a 2 day old piece of gum. 

T'ain't pretty. 

I'm totally humbled by that picture... I want to be AWAKE and ENERGETIC and ponder all those wonderful things that the girls do at their ages. 

I know, I know... I have a young child and I should give myself time, grace, rest... but I was *hoping* that I'd get a "get-out-of-jail-free" card with regard to the whole sleepy thing. Don't ask me why... I just hoped. I guess every fertility-struggler has some measure of "the gratitude for my new baby will be the nourishment I need to survive". 

I don't think I'm alone in this sentiment, but not many women will admit to me that, by golly, they're so wicked tired that breastfeeding is their only clue to reminder that they are woman. For some reason the glee of being a mother snuffs out their tiredness and they're able to find strength in that. 

But I know you're out there. And I have clues, too... from the Bible:

Because BEFORE Jesus was born, Mary was all "tra la la la la".

Then when she delivered Jesus, she "pondered these things in her heart". 

But then after those first moments together... hmmm... we don't hear Mary's thoughts anymore. It could be because her scribe ran dry (doubtful). 

Could be that she was busy making wedding plans. (Perhaps.) 

Most likely, it's because she was wicked, wicked tired and was trying to catch onto the ever elusive breastfeeding "latch". And since all her visitors appeared to be of the male gender, she was up a creek when it came to lactation consultants. 

That's my take, anyway. And I'm not trying to be sacrilegious. Think about it: much said BEFORE Jesus birth and then... not so much. 

She was tired.

So there you have it... I'm humbled. One day my posts will fall more into the "you'll never believe the cute thing my girls did" column, but for today, I gotta go. Gotta feed the kids.

Encouragement

I've had an interesting weekend so far. It's been encouraging in a weird sort of way. Allow me to share:

Encouragement #1:

For starters, Dan's old high school friend Brad came into town with his wife Lisa. It was great to see them. They came for dinner Friday night. Naturally Dan had to show Brad his brew station which left Lisa and I some time to chit-chat. I should mention something: Brad and Lisa have a 3 yr. old and a 1 yr. old at home. And one on the way. She looked great, but by 8:00 she was yawning as we were talking. I was yawny, too. Hilarious.

What a find most interesting of all is that Lisa and I spent the next hour or two talking about the challenges of pregnancy, breastfeeding, raising children, etc. Lisa is a strong midwest woman. I had never heard a woman from the midwest tell it like it is regarding pregnancy. Or breastfeeding. 

The next day, Dan received an email from her apologizing for her pregnancy rants. I laughed and told him to tell her that she immensely encouraged me that night. I needed someone to admit to the difficulties in pregnancy and breastfeeding and she did it. She was my encouragement. 

Encouragement #2:

Eve is going through a growth spurt. Yesterday she was eating every hour and a half and sometimes she ate again even after a half hour. Ugh. I don't know why I even bothered to put a shirt on yesterday. 

I was bone weary. Dan offered to watch Eve and feed her a bottle if necessary. I went window shopping for 2 hours. Anything to get out of the house. 

When I came home, a very tired Dan greeted me. Apparently in the 2 hours I was gone, Eve had one whole bottle feeding (4 oz.) and after a little while downed an additional 2 more ounces. She kept fussing and wanting to eat. He didn't get anything else done but feed and burp and hold Eve. 

Call me sadistic, but seeing my husband tired after 2 hours of bottle feeding made me realize that this job is tough; I smiled at the thought. 

Encouragement #3:

Eve is growing. Growing kids eat. A lot.

Encouragment #4:

Quite possibly one of the funniest books on motherhood I have ever read. My sister Noel sent it to me. I have gone to bed nearly in tears with tiredness, but read a part of this book and felt encouraged, able to laugh at the strange requirements of motherhood.

Post script:

A special thanks to Jenni for her encouragement, too. Jenni told me that even though one has had a lot of fertility trouble and really, really wanted a baby, that the job is no less hard. Thanks, Jenni. 

Ode to Momma

A confession friends: I want my momma. 

There's something about being a nurturer that makes me want to be nurtured even more. Every time I hold my daughter's hair back to throw up (only once, thank goodness) or bathe my baby or make a special treat for afternoon snack (oops... how did those M&Ms get into your dry cereal mix?)... I want my momma. I want to be mothered, too.

I want her to say, "My goodness, what a good job you did today, feeding both girls."

I want someone to say that I did a good job making a small decision (Feed crying baby or spazzy 5-yr old?) or making a larger decision (Shower or nap). 

I want someone to bring me cocoa when I'm cold and tired and to tell me that the economy and my friends are going to be okay... it was just a bad dream. 

I want someone to drive me around and listen to me banter mindlessly about little funny thoughts going through my head. 

I don't want to think about taxes or bills or how "ungreen" it is to use disposable diapers. 

I want someone to tell me that--dangit-- breastfeeding is wonderful but it's also hard. And that every woman who gives herself to be a milk vending machine to another human being is wonder woman. Wonder woman, I tells ya.

I just want comfort. Affirmation. A bit of recognition would be okay, too. 

I want someone to say that it's okay to not know the answers to everything, to not eat all my veggies once in a while and to acknowledge that day planners are for corporate executives, not for mothers of 6 week olds. 

Oh, and while I'm at it, I'd like to be told that I look pretty, even though I smell like beautiful baby vomit and my hair is the shape of the last thing I laid upon. Pretty. Like a flower. 

I want my momma.

It's All in the Numbers

1. When pregnant with Morgan, I preferred to "round up" the number of weeks pregnant I was to the next week. It didn't make the baby come any faster, but it seemed like it did.

2. Once my babies were born, I preferred to "round down" the number of weeks old they were.
Didn't make them any younger.

3. Got weighed in at the doc's office yesterday.
I was 1?4 pounds.
The nurse looked at me mercifully and said, "I'll say you're 1?3 pounds."
It really doesn't matter, now does it?

4. My sister sent me her "after pregnancy pants". They're all by Banana Republic and are the same size. However, I can only fit into one of the three of them. (Huh?) One of the sizes is lying and I don't want to know which. :)

5. I am 34. This number doesn't really mean anything to me. However, if I had Eve when I was 35, I would be considered "Advanced Maternal Age" and have to be monitored a lot more than I was. All because of one eensy weensy number.

6. Before I was a mother, I drove on the fast side. Now I'm more prone to be one of those grumpy "Please drive 25" mothers. Even though I drive, like, 7 miles over that. That's my limit: seven.

7. When I was a teen, I couldn't tell the difference between a 50 year old and a 70 year old. Once my internal clock ticked "20", I saw the difference. And when I turned 30, the 70 year olds looked like 45 to me.

8. I'm trying to eat healthfully after this pregnancy and using a book called "Body after Baby". It's by a nutritionist.
Today for breakfast I ate (among other things) one quarter of a banana.
A quarter.
The book said I could eat a quarter. Of a fruit.
Bananas don't come in quarters, lady.
(For the record, her other meal plans have been good portion size and not so ridiculous.)

Days of Grace

I look at my new post-pardum pants and see that silly putty has made it's sticky hold onto them. *sigh* When to have time to scrape that stuff off? I have two decent pants to wear right now. Two. And one is not wearable.

Then my sister sent me a package with her "after pregnancy" pants. Some swanky Banana Republic ones fit just right. So thankful. Simply grace.

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My daughter was playing with aforementioned silly putty. Got on the microfiber sofa pillow. I put it in the laundry room, essentially purgatory. Not gonna be able to deal with that for months.

Mom came to visit and spent an hour and a half getting said silly putty out of pillow. Amazing. More grace.

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Frozen dinners from friends. A God-send. Grace.

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Not enough time to "research" beach house. Sister sends link. Baby sleeps an extra hour or two so momma can reserve beach house before it's taken. Grace.


But then, each day, each breath, each bite of food and smile is grace too, isn't it?

Tempted to worry about how we'll have TIME for this or MONEY for that or ENERGY for thus-and-so. But then I stop, remember, and smile at how God distributes. Grace.

Eve and Morgan Pics