Tuesday, December 27, 2011

yes and no

Yes, I'm still here. Yes, a belly shot post is in the works. No, I didn't forget. I misplaced my camera and just got it back on Christmas Eve, by which point I was (am) huge enough that the idea of posing in front of a mirror is, quite frankly, intimidating. Even as a skinny girl, I have body issues like the rest of us.

So, while I work up my courage, here's a Christmas Eve picture to tide you over. Lyndon, in his Christmas jammies, showing off his "camera smile". Yes, when you ask him to smile for a picture, this is what you get:


Merry Christmas everyone! Hope yours was wonderful!

Friday, December 2, 2011

thankful

This post is in no way affiliated with Thanksgiving. I've just been feeling particularly thankful today, which is a big deal for a pessimist like me, so I thought I would share (and record for posterity).

Today, I am thankful for . . .

  • a hot water heater capable of providing two hot showers at the same time
  • new tires on my car (finally the steering wheel doesn't pull to the left!)
  • The Birth Center: the care, the warmth, the attitude
  • my favorite midwife, and having my appointment scheduled with her on the day I started freaking out about going through labor again
  • a fan.tas.tic son, who played happily during my appointment, charmed everyone he met, and didn't fuss once, even when mommy had to get an internal exam (that's huge progress)
  • a perfectly-sized, head-down little boy #2
  • Costco. a full fridge and pantry for $85? Lunch and a drink for $1.50? Yes, please.
  • church family showing up at Costco just when I was wondering if my lightheaded self could push that giant cart one. more. step (nevermind how in the world a 42 lb. bag of cat litter was going to get into my car)
  • $5 rotisserie chickens. dinner? done.
  • my birthday tomorrow, my first full day "off" (except for sickness) since becoming a mom-- oh, and a pedicure (thanks mom and dad!)
I started the day just being thankful for a hot shower (I don't know about you, but at the end of my pregnancies, showers start to feel amazing), and things just kind of snowballed. Was it one of those days when everything goes right? Or did it just feel that way because I was looking for things to be thankful for? I don't know, and I'm not sure I care. It's been a lovely day, no matter what the reason.

What are you thankful for?

Monday, November 28, 2011

32 week belly shot: like puberty, but faster

My apologies for the prolonged silence; the stuff of life has gotten in the way of blogging (Thanksgiving, pregnancy, motherhood, stuff like that). But now I'm back! And what a post to be back with. Having reached 34 weeks of pregnancy this past weekend, I thought it was high time I posted my 32 week pictures. These were actually taken on week 32. (You'll see the difference in two weeks when I post the next set. Oy.)






I got to a point in my pregnancy with Lyndon where nothing fit. I'm not talking about that sweet 20ish week moment when you realize that you need a pair of maternity pants for the first time. No, I'm talking about somewhere in the mid 30s, when you put on a maternity standby you've been wearing for weeks and it suddenly doesn't work.

It reminds me a little of puberty, only faster. I remember, starting around age 12, going to my closet every 6 months or so and discovering that some things just didn't . . . work. It wasn't that I'd grown out of them, necessarily, at least not everywhere. It was just that they fit . . . differently. And not a good different. This stage of pregnancy is like that. The only difference is that instead of happening every few months, this happens every few weeks. So, I find myself employing the teenager method of dressing, you know, the one where you try and discard 5 outfits before you can leave the house in the morning.

Other than that, though, this third trimester is going wonderfully. I don't have aches or pains. I don't even have heartburn. I've only really had 2 leg cramps and can still breathe well enough to sing. If it wasn't for the extra 28ish pounds I'm carrying around, I wouldn't know I was pregnant at all. (If you're tempted to hate me for this, go back and read about my 29+ hour labor with Lyndon. I had a fantastic pregnancy with him too.)

Well, little one, it won't be long now! I can't wait to meet you!

Friday, November 11, 2011

gratuitous pics of a snuggle bug

"Lyndon, who do you love?"
"Dada."


"Anybody else?"
"Mmama."

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Sometimes you teach your children, and sometimes . . .

At 21 months, Lyndon's training has officially begun.

Well, it actually begun the moment we brought him home from the hospital (training him to sleep in a crib, then to sit in a high chair, then to stay away from the stairs, and so on), but I'm talking about hardcore, Biblical, let's-memorize-some-verses training. Maybe we should call it discipleship?

Anyway, in the last few weeks, Adrian and I have noticed that our son complains. A lot. Now, he only has a few dozen words, so it's not the kind of verbal complaining older kids do, but it is complaining nonetheless. If you have or have had toddlers, you probably know what I'm talking about. They make this sound that's not quite a cry, but definitely not a happy noise-- some people call it fussing; personally, it reminds me of a police siren-- and they do it when something is happening that they don't like but know they can't change.

Moms, do you hear it yet?

Well, we decided to call it what it is. And we decided that our child is old enough to start recognizing it for what it is. So when I was, say, putting his jacket on, and he started making this noise, I began to say to him, "Lyndon, you are complaining." And then I would tell him what God says about complaining, which is pretty straightforward and comprehensive:

"Do everything without complaining or arguing."
-- Philippians 2:14 (ERV)

Doesn't leave much wiggle room, does it? It's exactly the kind of verse an almost 2 year-old needs: short, sweet, and to the point, with no loopholes. Within a few days of this, our little guy started to recognize this behavior, to the point where I can now ask him, "Lyndon, are you complaining?" and he will either nod his head, pout for a moment as if he just got caught, and stop, or shake his head no and stop. Either way, he has both connected the behavior to the word and realized that it's wrong.

And as I patted myself on the back for being such a good parent, I realized something . . .

I complain. A lot.

Lyndon and I were on our way to the grocery store last night, to try and throw together something for dinner-- after my husband came home and declared that he had a migraine and had to lie down upstairs, and no, we would not be going to (and eating at) Costco like we had planned, but he was really hungry and pizza sounded good-- and I did not have a good attitude. In fact, if you could have heard my heart, it would have been making that toddler police car noise I love so much. I grumbled and fussed in my grown-up way, and then it hit me: I was doing exactly what Lyndon had been doing. I was complaining.

And if I hadn't been training my son, I never would have realized it.

I repented to God and to the little guy in the backseat and decided to be grateful for the opportunity to serve my sick hubby the way he has served me so many times (early pregnancy comes to mind).

Sometimes you teach your children, and sometimes they teach you.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

making chicken stock= life-changing

Ok, maybe not life-changing, but certainly attitude-changing.

A few weeks ago, I made chicken stock for the first time, using pretty much only ingredients that I would have otherwise thrown away.


I think I threw in a chicken carcass, some carrot peelings, a couple ribs of celery that were past their prime, and half an onion that I had cut up a while ago. I looked up a recipe for a "Bouquet Garni" from The Joy of Cooking and threw in whatever herbs I had that matched (probably parsley, thyme and some peppercorns, since that's what's usually in the house).

I simmered it for 3 or 4 hours, strained it through my colander, then through an actual strainer.

And it looked like this:


I did manage to strain some more of the herbs out of it after I took that picture, but it was amazing even with those little pieces in there. And this time around, I tied all the herbs together in a square of cheesecloth, and it wasn't a problem. I froze it in ice cube trays and used it anytime a recipe called for chicken broth or stock. Delicious. And nearly free. And way easier than I originally thought. You really can't mess this stuff up.

I made another pot yesterday, and I still can't get over how I was paying $1/can for this stuff, on sale! And I can pronounce all the ingredients in the homemade version, which, by the way, is way lower in sodium. Oh, and I've used one of those rotisserie chickens from the grocery store to make this, with equal success, so you don't have to cook whole chickens to do it.

This is the closest I could get to an actual recipe. Seriously. Don't feel any need to follow this to the letter.

Basic Chicken Stock
1) Place chicken carcass in large, deep pot. If you remove as much skin as possible, you won't have to skim as much fat off later.
2) Add cold water to cover.
3) Bring to a boil. If any fat or scum rises to the top and you feel like it, skim it off. Sometimes I do; sometimes I forget.
4) Reduce heat and add quartered onion, chopped celery and carrots, about [1 t. each dried parsley and thyme, 3-4 peppercorns, 1 bay leaf and 1 clove garlic]. Tie bracketed ingredients together in 1 small square cheesecloth or a coffee filter for easy removal.
5) Simmer for 3-4 hours. (Joy of Cooking says to simmer uncovered, but I usually partially cover it.)
6) Strain. How fine your strainer is will determine how clear and "pure" your broth is. Since we use it mostly in recipes and don't eat it as soup, I just strain it through a regular colander (which removes the chicken pieces and veggies).
7) Skim the fat off the top before using. (This is easier to do once the stock has been refrigerated, as the fat rises to the top and solidifies. It will even stick to your spoon if you use a metal one.)

Waste not, right?

Friday, November 4, 2011

And then there was an epic win!

My husband has redeemed himself and his erased memory card! Apparently, he snapped a few pictures with a friend's camera, including a fantastic Halloween costume shot!


It's definitely possible that he's roaring in this one. Or eating apple. Not sure. We'll go with roaring, since he did a lot of that on Monday. But he did a lot of apple eating, too.


For a not-quite-2-year-old, "bobbing for apples" is more like "reaching for apples," but he was still all about it. He was even motivated enough to stand in line and wait his turn for a while.

So there you have it! Our little guy's first real Halloween was a smashing success. A roaring good time. A . . . ok, I'll stop now. You're welcome.

Thursday, November 3, 2011

We epic fail at Halloween pictures.

I apologize for not following through on my promise of a "coherent thoughts on Halloween and pics of my adorable son in costume" post. It's a long story, involving a borrowed SLR and an accidentally erased memory card. Hopefully, we haven't lost all pics of this year's Halloween forever; although, as my instructional technologist husband hasn't managed to recover them in 3 days of trying, it's not looking good.

So I have decided to post the "coherent thoughts on Halloween" portion anyway, which I wrote on Tuesday, and follow it with "pics of my adorable son in (part of his) costume". And if we ever manage to get our pics back, you will be the first ones I share them with. Promise.

--Post Title: "Our Halloween"--

First off, a little error correction. The article cited yesterday is by Justin Holcomb, not Mark Driscoll. Mark simply posted it on his Facebook status.

Anyway, in his article, Justin says:

 "It seems that Christians can easily receive (with wisdom) some cultural aspects of the holiday, and there is some potential for the pagan cultural practices to be redeemed—but care must be taken. There is a big difference between kids dressing up in cute costumes for candy and Mardi-Gras-like Halloween parties, offensive costumes, and uninhibited excess . . . for those Christians whose conscience permits we should view it as an opportunity to engage wisely with our culture."

And since our household is generally not tempted towards "uninhibited excess," and invitations to "Mardi-Gras-like parties" are few and far between, we feel it fairly safe, as a family, to participate in some aspects of Halloween. We are attempting to "redeem" the holiday, to use Justin's word.

For example, Lyndon and I went to three events last week that were basically an excuse for kids to wear costumes, play games and see their friends. One was hosted by our church and was a fantastic time for our church family to make some memories together. One was a MOMS Club annual event, at which I made new mom friends and Lyndon tackled the playground with some of his. And one was our local, downtown Trick or Treat night, a great chance to support local businesses and do something unusual as a family.

Oh, and then we went Trick or Treating with friends last night, and Lyndon still giggles with excitement when we talk about it. Holiday effectively redeemed. :-)


Yes, this is technically his entire costume (except shoes), but I think the misery on his face counts against it. This was the first time I tried putting him in it, and he hated it. Hated it so much, in fact, that I gave up and took most of it off . . .
 

See? Much happier. But much less cute. In theory, he was Alex the Lion from "Madagascar". At this particular party, he just carried his stuffed lion around and wore his t-shirt. I did manage to make the whole costume more comfortable for him by cutting the hood and tail off of the original fuzzy vest and attaching them to his sweatsuit. By the end of Halloween night, he didn't want to take it off. Unfortunately, that's the part of the camera card we lost. *sigh* At least you get the idea.



Monday, October 31, 2011

Happy Halloween?

On some subjects, it is difficult to have an original thought. So many smart people have spent time writing about it, that to add to all that would just be silly. This is especially true when you've just finished reading an article by Mark Driscoll that sums it up perfectly. :-P

Such is the case with the "Halloween for Christians" issue. Should we even celebrate at all? If so, how? And why? As I don't have a well-articulated answer of my own right now, and my child just woke up from his nap, I'll simply refer you to the article I just read. I am still forming my convictions on this issue, so give me until tomorrow. Then maybe I'll have some thoughts for you . . .

. . . along with some pictures of the cutest little "lion" you've ever seen. :-)

Friday, October 28, 2011

with a son like this, who needs a daughter?

Just kidding. I would totally welcome a little girl into our family if God decided to give us one. Totally.

However, this week, Lyndon has begun to show an interest in some. . . homemaker type tasks of mine. You know, the ones I hope to teach my daughter how to master someday.

He saw me using my mixer and begged to help make some apple crisp . . .



Then I cleaned the windows, and he wanted to get in on that too, so I let him wipe down the dishwasher with his very own (water-filled) squirt bottle . . .



He took his job very seriously, and has probably used his bottle and rag three or four times since then, completely unprompted. He also discovered the dustpan, after seeing me sweep the floor, and has had a great time using it as a Lyndon-sized broom.

I guess I kept thinking of him as a little baby, too young to help with things and not just make a huge mess, or as a tough little boy, not interested in things like baking and sweeping. But he's proving me wrong, and I love it.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

pictures taken with a swanky, swanky camera

First of all, a word about the camera that took these (for all you camera nerds out there who know what I'm talking about and/or care): these were taken with a Nikon D5100, which is a way nicer camera than I will probably ever own, even if I do end up with an SLR for Christmas one of these years. They were all taken in RAW with just the kit lens, and I played around with them a little in Adobe Bridge before putting them on my computer. They aren't amazingly good, but I think they're much better than what I usually take with my Canon PowerShot G5. Let me know what you think!

giggling together before a  hayride


lookin' snazzy on said hayride


Now, before you start griping (because I know you're like that) ;-) about how dark this one is, keep in mind that I wouldn't have even bothered trying with my Canon. Taking pictures in my living room without a flash or lots of blur requires an ISO of at least 1000. And even then, we had to do quite a bit of lightening work in Bridge.

climbing a gangplank


You can't imagine how excited I am to get decent pictures in my living room!


Well hello there my bold, brash toddler. Ready to take on the world, are we?

Oh, Nikon. Never, ever leave me.

Sunday, October 23, 2011

totally unrelated, completely random

Haven't blogged in a few days; nothing earth-shattering has happened, just the stuff of everyday life.

Baby #2 has started getting hiccups; I'm pretty sure he's starting to hang out head-down more and more, as well. He's so low that occasionally I can feel him pressing on my pelvic bone; it's a little weird and I find myself thinking about pre-term labor all the time now.

Lyndon had a low fever on Friday, then again tonight. We think he's starting to get some eye teeth, since normal sickness doesn't skip a day. It sure does make him grumpy, though, to be feverish like that.

Had our church's 7th anniversary celebration today. It's been a tough year: lots of people have left, and the ones who have stayed are starting to burn out a bit. There's a lot to do and not a lot of members to do it. Adrian and I had our first day off together in a looong time. We got to come to church together, on time, and it was wonderful. Had some church friends over afterwards and shared some of our concerns with them. Adrian managed to nail it: We're "evaluating" our church. Taking inventory of how much longer we're called to be there.

Adrian got a chance to borrow some swanky digital SLRs from work the last few weekends; I just finished importing the pictures, and I'll share some soon. Oh boy did I love taking pictures with those cameras; they felt so natural. We decided that I wouldn't use one enough to justify buying it, though, especially since I'd need something more than my netbook to get the most out of it. Maybe next year.

We need to take our Christmas pictures soon, but I can't find outfits in a common color for all of us. That's my mission for this week, I suppose.

Friday, October 14, 2011

28 week belly shot: oh hello Braxton Hicks; I remember you!

I totally meant to post a 24 week belly shot . . . and then I woke up one day and was 28 weeks instead. Oops. That's how this pregnancy has been, though. Chalk it up to it being Baby #2, but everything has just been so much less . . . remarkable this time around. It's still awe-inspiring, when I stop and think about it; I guess the difference is that I have less time to stop and think about it.

Welcome to pregnancy 2.0, I suppose!


Wow is my bathroom mirror dirty! Sorry about that, folks.
Did you notice that I fixed the bathroom lighting issue (at least in this shot)? Compliments go to MckMama and her fabulous online photography workshop!
Adrian says (and I agree with him) that I'm carrying lower this time than I did with Lyndon. So far, I'm ok with that. Breathing is much easier than it was last time, and starting out lower just means Baby #2 has that much more of a head start (pun intended).



I put on a new shirt the other day and said, "Adrian, is it just this shirt making me look big, or am I really this big?" His reply? "You're pretty big." Only a woman who has never struggled with her weight could accept that kind of brutally honest answer. He's right, though. This big belly kind of snuck up on me. One day, I woke up and none of my pre-pregnancy shirts fit, even the nice, long, forgiving ones.

In other news, those lovely Braxton-Hicks contractions that I had for so long with Lyndon are back. With a vengeance. I've been feeling them sporadically since I was about 20 weeks along, but they've picked up in the last 2 weeks or so. I now have them whenever I move too vigorously, which includes things like climbing stairs, standing up after sitting, cleaning bathrooms, and changing sheets. Oh, and picking up Lyndon. When I pick him up and put him on my lap, I am pretty much guaranteed to set off a contraction. They're uncomfortable this time around, too, especially since I usually have to continue what I'm doing instead of having the luxury of just making everything stop for a minute. Lyndon would be pretty upset if I threw him off my lap halfway through "Go Dogs Go" because my belly was contracting. Again, welcome to pregnancy #2. It's a little different this time.

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

cloth diapering 2.0

When Lyndon was about 3 months old, we jumped on the cloth diapering bandwagon. I knew, though, even before he was born, that he would be in cloth; I actually put it on my gift registry! After talking with friends, researching, and trying out a few brands, we decided to use BumGenius one size all-in-ones. They have worked perfectly . . . up until a few weeks ago. (For those of you who have never investigated the wonderful world of cloth diapers, you totally should! They're not your mother's cloth diapers anymore. Nope, these things can fit like disposables, complete with velcro tabs. They're a bit more labor intensive to wash than a normal load of laundry, but not by much. And when you consider, among other things, that each disposable diaper takes 250-500 years to decompose [source], it really all becomes worth it.)

Anyway, so we were plugging away nicely with our little stash of BumGenius, when I noticed that the velcro closures were dying. I tried picking the lint out of them and sticking them in the dryer (per the manufacturer's recommendations). No difference. After talking with a few friends whose BumGenius are lasting well into baby #2, I had to conclude that the problem is my washing machine. We inherited it from my in-laws, and, while it is old and not particularly gentle on clothes, it was free, and it still works perfectly. I am a use-it-til-it-wears-out kind of girl, so we are not getting a new washing machine until this one dies. Which means that, for our family, velcro diapers are not a viable option. Le sigh.

So, I started researching alllll over again. And I found this:


These diapers (yes, they're called Fuzzibunz) use snaps instead of velcro, which last longer, but don't give as tight of a fit and are known for causing leaks. The catch with this brand is that they're way more adjustable than your average diaper. It's all in the elastic-- see?




They adjust the same way adjustable-waist pants do: with a row of buttonholes on the elastic and a button on the fabric. I bought two just to try them out, and I am in LOVE. They're so trim and fit so well that I think Lyndon can actually move more easily in them, and I don't have to readjust the sizing every time I wash them. Snapping and unsnapping those BumGenius before and after every wash was getting to be kind of a pain, but the instructions say to make sure they're on the largest size before washing. With Fuzzibunz, that's not a problem. Oh, and did I mention they come with an extra set of elastic? Just in case.

So, I bought a set. And I put them in a bag in the nursery closet to await the arrival of Baby #2. New baby, new diapers, new beginnings, all of that. Then, last night, I reached the end of my rope with my poor, dying BumGenius. I put one on Lyndon after his bath, and there was just no way the velcro was staying on. With not a single disposable in the house, Adrian and I did the only thing we could think of: we duct taped that puppy. Yes, last night my child slept peacefully in a duct taped diaper. And his pjs were nice and dry this morning, thankyouverymuch.

So, last night after he went to bed, I pulled out the brand new Fuzzibunz and adjusted and washed them. Lyndon is in snaps today. And I am way too excited about it.

Sunday, October 9, 2011

I joined the double stroller club . . .

Sometime in May, I decided I wanted to put our growing family in this stroller. Sometime in August, I found it on Craigslist! As you can see, the thing retails for nearly $400 new. The stroller I bought was barely used, about a year old, and in perfect condition. It came with a car seat attachment and (purple!) seat covers (retailing another $50), and I paid $250. I did have to drive to PA to pick it up and got horribly lost on the way, but it was all worth it for this:


Clearly, Lyndon already loves it. (See him on the seat back there?) He actually begs to take it for walks instead of our single Graco. And, honestly, I think it handles better than the Graco anyway.

Showing off the sit-n-stand option:


The space right behind Lyndon's head is where the car seat fits in; this was one of only two strollers I found that put the infant seat in the space closest to the adult. I love the idea of having the baby closest to me. And when the baby is ready to move up to the front seat, Lyndon will (hopefully) be mature enough to handle riding on the sit-n-stand section. It's a perfect solution for us; I'm just anxious to be able to put it to good use. Three more months to go!

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

We've been house-sitting (which apparently means I don't blog).

Some friends of ours have a really nice house . . . with a really big yard . . . a really nice pool . . . and a really extensive collection of toys. Occasionally, they ask us to house-sit (and dog-sit, since they also have a really big dog). It's the kind of place we would go on vacation, so we treat it like one. We love it; what could be better than a vacation 5 minutes away from home? We eat outside, swim in the pool, and pick fresh raspberries out of the backyard. I use Lyndon's naptime to rest and read, instead of catching up on housework, and Adrian and I can watch The Food Network after the little guy is in bed. Bliss.

Unfortunately, this bliss does not translate very well to blogging. I'm not super comfortable posting pictures of someone else's house, and, most of the time, I just forget to take them. It doesn't feel like a "special" enough occasion, I guess. A vacation at the beach feels like a valid reason to have the camera out all the time. A vacation down the street? Not so much.

All that to say, I don't have a single picture of our little pseudo-vacation that we took last week. BUT, now that I'm back into the swing of blogging, I do have lots of stuff to share. Starting with some recent purchases . . . (to be continued)

Friday, September 23, 2011

pumpkins and pouty faces

Last week, we took a trip to the apple orchard. It was perfect: the first day of crisp, cool, fall weather. We went for a hayride and picked some apples. And then I tried to get a picture of Lyndon.

And I realized we have entered the "grumpy for the camera" phase. He was perfectly content until the camera came out, I promise. But once he saw it, I could not get a happy face out of him, no matter what I did (and I did some pretty ridiculous things).

But, I think the pictures are cute anyway. So here we go!

Concentrating very hard to walk along a narrow bench . . .


. . . then deciding it was more fun to sit.


Playing with a pumpkin . . . still no smiles.






A picture with mommy . . . sort of halfway happy.


 Aaaand the closest thing I got to a real smile all day (of course the one where I cut his head off).


Despite the apparent grumpiness, it really was a great time. Hooray for fall!

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

servanthood and motherhood

I listened to a sermon yesterday on servanthood, and there was one section that, in addition to being hilarious, seriously encouraged me:

"Part of the job of a mom is to do the menial tasks. Sometimes this means it's outside of your spiritual gifts . . . I've never met a mom who says, 'My gift is poop cleaning. And now this child has provided this amazing opportunity for my gift to be fully utilized, 30 or 40 times a day. It's fascinating.' You know what a mom does? A good mom does whatever needs to be done. Wipe the nose, clean the diaper, burp the kid, change the kid, feed the kid, get puked on by the kid, repeat the whole process . . . the essence of motherhood is the essence of service."
-- Mark Driscoll. "Jesus and True Greatness." Sermon at Mars Hill Church, Seattle, WA 18 Sept. 2011.

I have long known (as has any mom) that to be a good mom is to be a selfless servant, but it's nice to have somebody else (especially somebody male!) recognize that. Do I always serve my family selflessly? Absolutely not. But I feel like motherhood has expanded my capacity to serve like nothing else in my life has. In the beginning, with a newborn, you give and give and give because the alternative is criminal neglect. If your baby needs something, you give it, no matter how little you feel like it. And you begin to realize that this selfless, menial serving at 3 am is a blessing in itself. It produces its own kind of satisfaction, the knowledge that I am loving my little one like Jesus loved me.

By the time that little baby is a toddler, you find yourself looking for ways to serve him. My little guy loves playgrounds, even though all the walking and bending and lifting is a full-blown prenatal workout for me now. But I delight in taking him. I delight in serving him and watching his face light up as he first spies the tops of the climbing towers. He squeals with excitement, and his little hands sign "play" over and over again. And I know that I could do this forever.

It's not glamorous; I'm not going to get recognition or a corner office. No one even knows about most of the ways I pour myself out on a daily, hourly basis. But I love my family. So I serve them. Simple, but life changing.

Monday, September 19, 2011

Not Me! Monday is back!

Mckmama- Not Me Monday


Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.

I loved Not Me! Monday. Airing our more embarrassing moments (and there are plenty of them with small children around) is so therapeutic. Helps us remember that we're all just out here doing the best we can. Alright, so here we go!

This morning, I definitely did not get lost in Wilmington on my way home from The Birth Center. Nope, not me. I have been to TBC at least twenty times. I know exactly how to get home. I also did not stay lost for over half an hour, ending up first in Little Italy, then in Elsmere. When I finally got out of the city, I did not consider breaking my promise to my son that we would go to the mall playground after mommy's appointment. It would not even cross my mind to make my son suffer the loss of his promised treat because of his mommy's stupidity.

Just now, as I was typing this, I definitely did not just knock over an entire glass of water, soaking not only the coffee table and carpet, but also my waterbirth consent form. Ironic, no?

Now it's your turn! What embarrassing things have you not been up to this week?

Saturday, September 10, 2011

rocking my baby

The other night, I consoled a friend whose under-the-weather toddler wouldn't go to sleep unless she rubbed his back by saying the following: "I try to think of the day in the not-so-distant future when he won't want me to rub his back anymore."

Then I got sad. Because he already doesn't want me to rub his back. I can't remember the last time I rocked him to sleep; I can't even remember the last time I saw him sleep. Now, having a child who puts himself to sleep night after night is a huge blessing; I can't deny that. But it made me realize just how fast my little one is growing up and just how little time I have with him. I was tempted to go into his room and just look at him for a while. But I didn't. Because I didn't want to wake him up. *sigh*

And then, the next morning, he gave me the most incredible gift. He slept in until 9 (no, that's not the gift, although it was pretty nice), then, when I went to get him up, he acted as if waking up and facing the day was just too much to be endured. He actually reminded me of myself as a teenager, covering his eyes and pulling his blanket over his face. I lifted him out of his crib, and all he wanted to do was snuggle. So, we rocked and snuggled. I sang him every lullaby in the book while I held him and stroked his hair. He buried his face in my chest, and I cried a little. Even though I was hosting playgroup in five minutes, even though I hadn't yet had breakfast or even changed his diaper, getting a chance to snuggle and rock my little boy was all that mattered.

Thank you, little man, for proving that you haven't outgrown snuggles and rocking and lullabies just yet. Please don't. Ever.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

a very dirty manger

"Few tasks are more like the torture of Sisyphus than housework, with its endless repetition: the clean becomes soiled, the soiled is made clean, over and over, day after day."
-- Simone de Beauvoir, The Second Sex

In the last few days, I have felt quite a lot like this Sisyphus, who toiled all day to push a boulder uphill only to  have to watch it roll back down, for all eternity. Monday night I cleaned my entire downstairs in anticipation of my first time hosting Lyndon's playgroup the next morning. I swept and washed the kitchen floor, organized the entry, and dusted the living room. My couches were free of cat hair, my countertops were spotless, my kitchen table even had a runner on it (to hide the less-than-perfectly-sanded spots).

Then I hosted playgroup. And six little toddler boys trashed my living room. And kitchen. Then, as soon as I had recovered, it was time for dinner. Chicken parmesan, one of Adrian's favorites. Sauce from scratch, homemade cracker crumb coating; it was heavenly. Adrian is coming home late the next two nights, and he convinced me to clean up only the bare minimum after dinner before spending time with him.

So, I came downstairs this morning to a disaster zone: a saucepot that I thought had been soaking but somehow still accumulated crusty gunk, breading stuck under my burner covers, sauce splatters and Parmesan cheese crumbs on the table. It was my Sisyphus moment, to be sure. I did my duty and cleaned up my (our?) mess, all the while thinking how, if we ordered take-out like that family next door, this would all magically disappear. We could even eat it off of paper plates. Zero work for me.

And then another quote came to mind, one from a much more reliable book (no offense, Simone):
"Where there are no oxen, the manger is clean, but abundant crops come by the strength of the ox."
-- Proverbs 14:4

Oxen are messy, smelly creatures. When a team of oxen live in a barn, you know about it. They require a great deal of care, as any large farm animal does: feeding, cleaning, exercise, training. I imagine owning a team of oxen feels very Sisyphean, mucking out their stalls only to watch them fill up with the leavings of a several-ton animal. But oxen get. stuff. done. Wikipedia tells me that they can plow, haul wagons, thresh and grind grain, and "skid logs" (basically, haul freshly cut trees).

Raising a family is like owning a pair of oxen. If you have a commitment to making your home a loving, nurturing, productive place, then life will be messy. I could easily shuttle Lyndon to day care and let his teachers deal with the crumbs and the Play-doh and the muddy shoes, then come home and eat take-out off paper plates. Or I could stay home and just refuse to do the "messy" things. I could put plastic covers on my couches and ban all snacks from the living room.

Or I could accept, and even enjoy, the fact that this neverending cycle of clean and dirty says something beautiful and profound about our lives. Because I wasn't afraid to let him fingerpaint, my son can grow up adventurous and free; because I made chocolate chip muffins, we can all feel a little warmth at the end of a rainy day; because I wash his work pants (no matter where they end up), my husband knows that someone cares for him and wants him to succeed.

Yes, Sisyphus, I feel your pain. But I also know a joy you never had, the joy of doing this work for someone. With my husband and baby boy at the top of the hill, this boulder seems a little lighter.

Although, sometimes I still wish for paper plates . . .

Sunday, September 4, 2011

climbing

Lyndon has recently learned how to climb . . . which, of course, means that he now tries to climb everything. Sometimes this is super helpful, like when he can get onto or off of the couch by himself; sometimes, it just gives me a mini heart attack, like when he ended up standing on top of a wobbly two-foot tall stool right next to the bathtub. (I swear I only turned my back for a second.)

But, most of the time, it's just good fun. Like this . . .


Friday, September 2, 2011

20 (ish) week belly shot: bring on the nesting!

So, I'm the slacker who can't manage to take her 20 week belly shot, um, during her 20th week. In fact, today is the 22 week mark. But, better late than never!


The manual setting on my camera, when used properly, makes that bathroom lighting just a little more bearable. Oh, and yes, the haircut is (fairly) new. Thanks for asking. I'm kind of in love with it.

Let's see that belly up close!





Yes, my bellybutton has "popped". That means the baby's done, right? Kidding, kidding.

Actually, I'm not particularly eager for this little one to be done cooking yet. From about 16 or 17 weeks until about 25, I usually feel better than I do not pregnant. I am no longer lactose intolerant, for example. My mood is better than usual, and I have a ton of energy.

This week in particular, most of this energy has been directed into that phenomenon known as "nesting". To my knowledge, I never nested with Lyndon. Then again, I had a job that required me to clean and organize things all day long, so perhaps that fulfilled my nesting urge. But with this little guy, watch out! Suddenly, it's like my eyes have been opened, and I care, really care about all the half-finished or "good enough" projects around here. I sanded and oiled our teak dining room table, listed the whole set on craigslist (again), put up pictures that have been in my closet for months, organized Lyndon's toys into a system that should work for years, you get the idea. It's been fun, and I love that feeling of accomplishment at the end of the day. I would be perfectly happy to feel like this for the next 18(ish) weeks.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

tiptoes

Lyndon has recently discovered how to stand on tiptoe, which I think is super cute, especially when it involves Crocs with socks.


I have to remember to put more things away, though, because he can reach the top of almost every surface now. Nothing is safe anymore. In fact, in the picture above, he's reaching for the tv remote.

And in this one, he's reaching for the laptop...


He's so determined to touch what's just out of reach... yet another reminder that I have a kid on my hands now, not a baby anymore.

Monday, August 29, 2011

why blog?

Every now and then, there is a long pause between posts on this blog. Sometimes (like last week), this is because we've been busy. Most often, though, it happens because I have lost my motivation for blogging.

When you are first learning how to write, you are told that you must "know your audience". Who are you writing for? What do they expect? Keeping them in mind helps to bring purpose and clarity to your writing. It gives you a reason to write.

Every now and then, I find myself wondering, "Who am I writing for? Why am I writing?"

. . . which, inevitably, spirals downward into, "Why should I even bother?" I don't have a regular, obvious audience that follows and comments and waits anxiously for the next post. There are no far-flung grandparents waiting for pictures, no loyal fans who think my recipes are awesome. This is just not that kind of blog. But there are times when I feel like it should be, I feel like it has to be, to give me a reason to keep writing.

But then I start thinking about why I started this blog in the first place: to write. That's it. I am a writer-- published or not-- it's the one thing I feel I must do every day. It's not just a passion; it's a necessity. It helps me process and keeps me sane. In busy seasons, even making a to-do list in anticipation of the next day's activities works to center me and give me a sense of stability. Of course I would love to penn a masterpiece, read by the masses, but for now,  I just need an outlet.

I write for myself. I always have. Just not on this blog. Here, I have been guilty of catering to the whims of my imaginary "audience," posting cute pictures because they get the most comments, trying desperately to shape my experiences into something "other people" would want to read.

But no more. (Gosh, that feels good.) From now on, this is my outlet, my chance to process the world. It will continue to be public and (hopefully) mostly inoffensive, because I do have a few lovely grandparent readers out there, ;-) but from now on, I write for me. You casual readers may not even notice much of a difference. There will still be cute pictures. And baby bump updates. But they will be there because they are important to me, not because I think they might be important to you.

I may end up offending some of you, as my 24 year-old Christian self tries to make sense of life in my suburban, post-Christian world. I will try, really try, not to be divisive or mean. But I will probably not be cool or particularly mainstream. I will do my best not to be whiney or depressing, but neither will I be all sunshine and rainbows. I applaud mothers who can just talk about how much fun they have and how wonderful their kids are, but I'm not one of them. If Lyndon decides that he would rather scream than nap, you are going to hear about it. That being said, most of my days are tons of fun. I love my job and wouldn't rather be doing anything else with my life. Seriously. My outlook has never been sunnier. I really do love my life; I want to make that clear. But I'm a pessimist by nature, and I refuse to put my posts on Prozac because that's what I think the people want.

There. A full confession and a promise to do better. Not for you, however lovely you may be, but for me. Writing for writing's sake. I can hardly wait!

Sunday, August 14, 2011

rockin' out


This is how we prepped for Lyndon's hearing test.


I had to get him used to earbuds somehow.

So I let him listen to my iPod.


To say he loved it is an understatement.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

It's a...

Well, it looks like we will be continuing our church's tradition of having lots and lots of... boys. Maybe it's something in the water around here...

Anyway, all of Tadpole's measurements checked out just fine, and the technician managed to get a shot that guarantees it's a boy. I thought I would be just a little disappointed, but I wasn't. All I could think about was how cute his little nose is and how much trouble he and Lyndon will get into together. I'm so glad my two little boys will be able to play together and be friends. Yes, I hope a girl is in our future eventually, but for now, I'm excited at the idea of two little rascals running around here together.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

What's for dinner? salmon and black bean "burgers"

So, I'm posting my second dinner recipe, and hopefully, I won't end up in the ER like last time. (I did wait until I had actually served dinner this time to post; maybe that will help.)

Anyway, here we go. My recipe is based on this one from allrecipes.com. I've made it as written a few times now, but the other day I had some fun tweaking it, since I needed to feed a few more people and wasn't about to add more salmon.




12 oz. canned salmon (that's 2 cans if you get it from Costco)
1/3 cup finely chopped onion (I've made it with both fresh and about 1 T. of dried-- good either way)
1 egg
5 saltines, crushed
1/2 t. Worcestershire sauce
1/4 t. salt
1/8 t. pepper
15 oz. can black beans ( I used about 3/4 of the can, but my husband is a beanophobe. You could probably use the whole thing if you wanted.)
1/4-1 cup water
1/4 cup flour


1. In a bowl, combine first 7 ingredients. Mix well.
2. Mash beans with a fork and add to salmon mixture.
3. Add water 1 T. at a time until mixture will hold together. Form into 8 patties.
4. Coat patties lightly in flour.

You can either pan fry these or bake them in the oven. I've done both. Obviously, the oven option is healthier (and more hands-off for those of you chasing little ones around), while pan frying gives a better, browner crust.

To pan fry: Heat 3-4 t. oil in skillet over medium heat. Fry 4-5 mins. on each side or until lightly browned and heated through.

To bake: Preheat oven to 375. Arrange patties in single layer on greased baking sheet. Spray patties lightly with cooking spray. Bake 10-12 mins. or until lightly browned and heated through, turning once.

We love to dip these in cocktail sauce, ketchup, or chili-garlic sauce (from the Asian section of the grocery store), depending on how much spice we're feeling that night.

Enjoy, and let me know if you try these!

Thursday, August 4, 2011

friends

Lyndon has started making friends and will play with and around kids his own age pretty comfortably now. He can identify four of his little friends by their Christmas card pictures on the fridge. I'm so excited to see these relationships develop in the next few years!

sharing toys with a nice little girl . . .

splashing with the boys . . .

hangin' by the pool . . .

He even cried the other day when one of his friends had to go home. Looks like his social skills are starting to blossom, after all.

Monday, August 1, 2011

Lyndon is 18 months old!

Yikes! When did this happen?

For some reason, I've always thought of 18 months as the age where babies become children. I guess it's because they're pretty much all walking, talking and expressing their *ahem* opinions by then. It's also the last stage at which you can easily find onesies. I love onesies, but they are definitely "baby" attire, conjuring up images of itty-bitty toes and little knit hats. *swoons*

Ok, enough of that. Back to Lyndon. 18 month-old Lyndon is very physical and loves tackles, tickles, snuggles and full-body hugs. He expresses affection not only through hugs and kisses, but also through high fives, head bonks and handshakes. He says 10 words and can point to 14 body parts and 7 animals. He loves books and has quite a few memorized, including Guess How Much I Love You and The Poky Little Puppy. He also loves fingerplays and will play along with Itsy Bitsy Spider, Wheels on the Bus, Wise Man/Foolish Man, and Where is Thumbkin. He love love LOVES music, especially if he can dance to it.


Adrian says this is his favorite age so far because it's so much fun! I tend to agree. Happy 18 months, little man.

Saturday, July 30, 2011

16 (er, almost 17) week belly shot: movin' and shakin'

Well, it's official; Tadpole and I have a new due date: January 7th. And just the fact that I managed to get the date changed reminds me why I love The Birth Center. My ultrasound said Jan. 7th, but most doctors wouldn't change a due date based on that, since it's only a 6 day difference from my earlier January 1st date. Fortunately, I have both very understanding midwives and additional evidence supporting a Jan. 7th due date. The midwives and I have determined that I ovulate on week 3, not week 2 like most women, supported by lots of evidence, including the fact that Lyndon was exactly a week "late". (Incidentally, I'm pretty sure he also measured a week behind on his early ultrasound, but nobody thought to change things around then. Now they know better.)

So, my "12 week" shot was actually an "11 week" shot, and so on. But now we've got our act together. So on to the pictures!


Isn't that bathroom lighting just glorious? Yeah, I know. It was the best I could do.


Close-up of the belly. I pretty much look pregnant now, instead of just fat, as long as I wear a shirt that fits closely, not one of those circus tent numbers.

Exciting news this week: I've started feeling little Tadpole move! Both the ultrasound tech and every midwife that's tried to find a heartbeat has commented on how much this little one has been moving, and I concur. It's not a strong enough feeling to stop me in my tracks just yet, but there are plenty of moments throughout the day, especially if I'm sitting down, when I can tell that Tadpole is all kinds of active in there. It's comforting to know he/she is alive and well, but it's a little scary to think about having a child that's that active. Then again, Lyndon was a mover, too, and he's turning out to be the best kid I could have wished for. So, no worries.

Two more weeks until our next ultrasound, when the all-important question will (should) be answered: boy or girl?