The Bible according to Lily

Tonight Lily had her little picture Bible out and was reading to Whitaker while I was changing Connor.  She started at the beginning and each page got a sentence or two.  I was pretty impressed!  She got a lot of it right, and over all it was just adorable:

God made the sun.  It was very beautiful because it was warm.
God made Adam and Eve, and they were not married.  They disobeyed God.
There was a man with a magic sword.
Noah told God to build a big boat.
[I interrupted here and asked if she meant that God told Noah to build a big boat.  I was corrected - "No.  Noah told God!"]
He filled it with all kinds of creatures.
It rained for 40 years.
Then the sun came out and all the people came.
Adam and Eve were there.
And Mary and Joseph came.
There was a bush with fire.

I have lots of Christmas to share, but will save that for another day.  Happy weekend!

The Eve of the Eve

It is the day.  Well, actually, it's the day before the day.  Or, to be more precise, it's the day before the day before the day!  What I mean to say is that tomorrow is Christmas Eve and the beginning of the official Christmas celebrations in the House of Francl.  And I'm looking forward to it more than ever for two reasons:

Reason #1

Reason #2

It's been a full run up to tonight.  But let's be honest.  We're all "busy."  All the time.  And then in the days leading up to Christmas, it's even more BUSY.  But busy is blessed because it means we have things to do, people to care for, places to go, ways to get there, and so many things for which to be thankful!

Yesterday I was overwhelmed by all that I didn't get done while Chase was away at work.  Namely, about 9 loads of laundry that had been waiting [I don't want to admit how long, so I won't] to be folded.  It was the only thing on my "To Do List," and I didn't even come close to getting it done. I think I managed to get about 8 shirts folded by the time Chase walked through the door.

Sure I accomplished other things.  But I was so frustrated with myself.  Ashamed that I couldn't manage my household well enough to even fold the laundry.  I mean, it should have been folded the day it came out of the dryer, not [I'm still not telling how many] days later.  Not to mention all the other things that hadn't gotten done.

It's the struggle.  The daily-ness.  And it sounds so stupid as I sit here and write it.

This season, it's not about the daily.  Or maybe it is.  It's about a day that was so different than any other day in the entire course of history that God himself sent his Son to this earth to make His debut.  And then, because He was so proud and because it was such a miracle of an event, God sent a crazy-ton of angles to fill the sky and announce the amazing thing that had happened.  I get that - the day my kids were born, I wanted everyone to come see, I wanted to show them off, I wanted the world to know how very lucky it was to have my baby in it!  Imagine how God must have glowed as the Heavenly Father that day.

And because that one day that was so different from any other day ever before, every day after it holds not simply the promise of Hope yet coming, but instead holds Hope itself.

What a gift.  What an amazing time in which we live.  And what a shame that I get lost in my own expectations of myself and crabbed around my house over some [no longer] stinking [even if it wasn't folded] laundry!  (To put your minds at ease, it's all FINALLY folded.  At times like this I vow to never let it pile up on me like that again fully knowing at some point it's painfully inevitable.)

Not again, or at least I'm going to try not to be a crab again even if/when the laundry piles higher than Everest.  There is so much I didn't get done this season.  The daily countdown calendar I was going to do with Lily says we're still 9 days away from Christmas; there are cookies that will never get baked; I still haven't watched 2 of my favorite Christmas movies; and you wont' be getting the Francl family Christmas card until after Christmas.  BUT...

But there's Hope.  Thanks to that babe so many years ago in that manger.  That babe who left perfection and came to... well... to us.  And let's just be real here - I'm not perfection in the least.  That anyone would leave perfection to come down here for me?  That's a miracle.  And God happens to be in the business of doing miracles!  Praise His name!

So while we were not folding laundry this last week, here are some things we WERE doing, and I think you'll agree, they were way more fun than laundry.

We took Whitaker to the vet, which the cat didn't particularly like, but we non-cats enjoyed.  In the picture below, you can see how Whitaker rode on the 20 minute ride to the vet (see him behind Lily's hat).  He stayed there the whole time, peeking out the window over his girl's shoulder.  And on the 20 minute ride home, he sat curled up in the lap of Lily, his girl.  They fight, they pick on each other, but those two entertain each other for hours and they love each other dearly.

We went to the library and (finally) returned our overdue books. And we had a great time.  Our library is a wonderful place - they have tons of books (can you believe it!?!  Just kidding.), toys for Connor to play with, and an adorable puppet theater.  Lily is at the age where she's pretending and making characters talk to each other.  They have wonderful little conversations and here she is putting on a puppet show for me and Connor.

And speaking of Connor, he doesn't stay in one place very long.  He's developing and learning and growing like CRAZY.  When I watch him play and explore the world around him, I can just see the wheels in his little head turning and processing.  He likes things that make noise, especially if they make noise when he shakes or hits them (like drums or maracas).  He learned to clap recently, and we hit most things to see what kind of a sound they make.  Except the cat and dog.  We try not to hit them.  Or the sister.

A couple of days ago, he was doing his little "worm" crawl across the living room where Chase and I were talking and Lily was playing, and Lily all of a sudden broke into our conversation.  "Mom, Connor sat up by himself!"  And sure enough, he had!  From his worm crawl into the sitting position all by his big self.  :)  ...aaaaaaand the big sister noticed it first.  She's 3.  And she noticed it.  And she knew it was a big enough deal to interrupt our conversation and notify us.  *sigh* We have great kids!

And today, he chased this pink balloon all around the living room, including all the way around and behind the recliner.  And that hair, compliments of his nap.  Isn't he great?!?

Hope.  And not just Hope for the sake of hope, but Hope for Eternal Life.  Merry Christmas.

Happy Day

I just finished a blizzard from DQ.  A celebratory blizzard.  Chase told me that it's only celebratory if the people whose excitement you're celebrating are with you.  I disagree.

Today started out as a good day.  I got to spend it at home with my kids, and despite my exhaustion from not nearly enough sleep last night, it was delightful.  It only got better when friends stopped by for a play date.  And then...

And then some dear friends of ours shared some amazing news, news we've been praying for, begging for, yearning for, for more almost 9 months. This news has had our friends on a crazy roller coaster with wonderful highs and heart wrenching lows.

But God moves.  And He moves in ways we don't see coming.  And He moves where there seems to be no way.  And He blows our minds!

Our friends still face so much ahead on their roller coaster, but today, this day, I'm celebrating.  Bits of the grief, exhaustion, frustration, and anger I have felt as we have walked beside them these last months melt away as I enjoy the elation of marvelous news.

The news is not mine to share, so I won't.  But cheers, my dear friends - I simply could not feel any more joy!

These are a few of my favorite things

In no particular order...

1. A dark home with a lit Christmas tree.  There is nothing so peaceful and warm.
2. Bells on kitten collars.  Genius.
3. Pacifiers.  Whoever invented these should be given a Nobel Peace Prize.
4. Flannel sheets.  Add to that a flannel duvet cover and you're basically sleeping in a heavenly cloud.
5. Dishwashers.  You have no idea how much time they add to your life until you don't have one.
6. Great conversation over hot drinks.  I don't know why, but hot drinks make conversation so much better.
7. Cards.  I know their origins and uses aren't all pure, but a deck of cards and a few friends make for a fantastic evening!
8. Grandparents.  I am blessed to STILL (at age 30) be enjoying all 4 of my grandparents - they are such mainstays in my life and I am so grateful for them.
9. Dirty things like clothes, dishes, floors, and bathrooms in my home.  Dirty clothes in the laundry basket mean we have been active and have other clothes to change into; dirty dishes on my table/counter/in my sink mean our tummies are full; dirty floors mean many feet (human and dog and cat) have trod through and I'm grateful for each one; and dirty bathrooms mean that I get to use a toilet, a tub and a sink and I get to use running water to clean them.  I don't always think of these things this way, but it sure helps my attitude when I do!
10. Naps.  I stink at napping, usually, because I need a LONG time to take a nap to make it worth while.  Except when I'm barely human because I'm so tired, like this morning.  Then I (and the rest of my family) are thankful for naps, whatever length, because I needed one.  Bad.
11. Toddler minds.  They are so creative and amazing.  Fishing lures (sans hooks) = hours of entertainment.  Elephant starts with "L," or at least it should.  Riding bikes all the way to the park so we can play fetch with our dog (which we could have done at home, but it's so much better to at the park, evidently). Dance parties, coloring books, kitten toys, Christmas lights & ornaments, gold fish, chalk, everything is exciting and new and wonderful.
12. Bedtime.  Why don't kids like this time of day???  

Lilyisms lately

Lily's latest thing (this started Tuesday) is that she thinks our van is too empty when we get in it.  I think it's because on Tuesday, her babysitter borrowed my van and hauled Lily, Connor, and 2 other kids in it.  So here's the conversation we had today on the way home from Mom's house.

L: Mom, we need more kids in the van!
M: We do?
L: Yes, we need more brothers and sisters.
M: More brothers and sisters?  How many do you think we need?
L: 5.
M: 5 brothers and sisters?!?!?  Do you want just brothers, just sisters, or both?
L: We need both brothers and sisters!
M: *gulp* Really?  Ok.  Who could give us more brothers and sisters?
L: God gives us brothers and sisters!

A few good things about this conversation are that she WANTS more brothers and sisters so having Connor didn't rock her world in a bad way; she knows that babies are a gift from God; and she isn't particular about gender so she wants brothers and sisters.

I'm just hoping that her sweet ideas don't come true too soon.  I still have a baby for goodness sake!

Speaking of which, my baby turned 8 months on Thanksgiving Day.  He'd been a bit cranky in the few weeks leading up to the holiday - he'd had a runny nose for a couple of weeks and a fever off on and on.  On Thanksgiving he cut his 4th tooth and he felt so much better that he was even more charming than usual.  See what I mean...

Connor hung out with Great Grandpa Gordon on the steps.
GGG taught him to put one foot in front of the other, so now
he is ALL OVER in his walker!

Connor snuggled with Great Grandma Jewel.
He's only 8 months old, and almost as big as GGJ!

Lily has been learning about how to teach our kitten, Whitaker, boundaries.  For example, Whitaker isn't allowed in the Christmas tree.  Chase taught Whit that by shooting him with a nerf gun the first two times the kitten tried to go after ornaments on the tree.  It was shockingly affective!  However, the next day, I had to put the nerf gun up.  Additionally, kitten isn't allowed on the table or counter.  He gets a swift swat when he does that.  Lily is learning to NOT spank him when he's NOT doing anything wrong.

Generally, she's doing so well with him, and he's doing so well with her - they really are best friends. This morning when I fed Connor at 5am, I put him back in his crib and looked over to Lily's bed. Whitaker had snuck into her room and was sound asleep curled up next to her on the bed.

Lily carried Whitaker all the way from her room to the kitchen
in dolly's car seat. Whitaker seemed to like it!

In addition to Lily being best friends with Whitaker, kitten-Whitten is good friends with Connor too.  It's amazing to me the sense that animals have around kids.  Despite that Connor grabs Whit's ears and pulls his tail, Whitaker hasn't ever left a scratch on Connor (I've helped so that that's true, but still...) and he'll come lay down right next to Connor just to hang out!  And can you blame the kitten for wanting to hang out with these two awesome kidlets?

In closing I'd like to commend whoever came up with the idea of race car shopping carts.  I think you deserve a Nobel Peace Prize.  And I hope you earned a lot of money for your invention!  There are moms all over shooting up silent prayers of thankfulness for your good work so we can shop in some semblance of peace.

Thanksmas 2014

Every family has its unique make up, its traditions, its quirks, (its skeletons), it's own character.  One thing that makes my dad's side of the family unique is the annual Thanksmas celebration.  My dad has 4 siblings, each having at least 3 children.  

Those children (we, the grandchildren) are in the age where we're becoming young professionals, marrying, having kids, moving, traveling, etc.  So the crew is getting pretty big and spread wide and far.  Branches of the family can be found as far east as Virginia, as far west as California, as far south as Texas, and as far north as Nebraska.  

But we all try to make it back for Thanksmas.  Fortunately for my family (since we moved back), the celebration is just a few miles away.  This year it was held back at Grandma and Grandpa's farm, a delightful change from the community rooms where we'd been having it.

The day started with the essential thing for any good celebration: food.  The spread was spectacular.  It was your typical Thanksgiving/Christmas fare of turkey and ham, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, stuffing, beans, vegetables, gravy, salads, rolls, pies, cookies, cakes, candies.  That we all managed to waddle around after lunch was a miracle in itself. 

Perhaps the funniest, most unflattering picture of each individual in this
picture that I've ever seen.  Clearly an unexpected snapshot, and I love it for that reason!

After we ate, we were praising the Lord for the beautiful weather, so we all headed outside to enjoy it.  There were all kinds of things to do: play football, blow bubbles, ride bikes, shoot guns, chase kids, talk with adults, and generally just enjoy the great weather.

This picture documents a few things: (1) the crazy good weather we enjoyed
on November 28, (2) Great Grandma Jewel enjoying blowing bubbles just as
much as 3-year old Lily, (3) the incredible amount of vehicles it took to get us
all to the farm, (4) the huge farm yard capable of holding that many cars without
feeling cramped.  Unbelievably blessed!

The activity that occupied the most people for the longest time was
the impromptu gun range set up on the edge of the farm.  Since the cousins
are (for the most part) older, we can enjoy activities like this together.
We had a great time.  The clay pigeons, not so much.

It was quite an impressive show of fire arms and marksmanship!

Grandma and Grandpa.

Grandma and Grandpa with all the grandchildren who were present.

The whole family.  If I am counting correctly, there are 34 people
in this picture, and we were still missing 12 people.  And my count might
be off... I know everyone, but it's seriously getting hard to keep track of the count!

After an afternoon outside, we headed in for the annual game of "GIFTS" (bingo) where winning means a trip to the tables full of all manner of goodies and useful items.  Then we all (somehow) managed to make room for another round of food for supper.  The day ended slowly as we trickled out a carload or two at a time.  

I don't know about the rest of the family, but this was my favorite Thanksmas in recent years.  So great to be back at the farm, though we missed each one who couldn't make it.  

Death

It's so unnatural and yet so a part of life.  The end.  The beginning.  Death.

Today I sat in our church at the memorial service of one of our members.  She was 106 1/2.  Yes.  Over 106 years old.  We solemnly awaited the start of the service and listened in reverent remembrance of a life well lived while songs were sung and words were spoken.  And then we laughed as stories were shared about this amazing woman whose vibrance, wit, and enthusiasm in life inspired us all.

It was a celebration that she is no longer bound by a body that was failing her.  A celebration that she lived life to the fullest.  Despite the fact that she had outlived anyone her age, the church was full of people from age 4 to 98 of people who were touched by the love she poured out.  Friends she continued to make as death separated her from so many of her friends.  I can only imagine the reunion that awaited her!

As I watched from my seat toward the back, the service started and her casket was wheeled into the sanctuary and placed at center front.  The bright chrome on the casket made my mind flash back 15 years and 63 days.  The casket then was black, not powder blue.  The flowers were white, not pinks and purples.  The lighting was darker, and the stage filled with high school seniors singing.  Singing the songs I said should be sung: In His Time and This is My Father's World.  Because those were the songs we sung around the piano when we were little.

That day.

I wonder if I'll ever go to a funeral in my church and not flash back to some memory of that day, tucked away in the depths, covered, mercifully, by dusty mental cobwebs.  They surface and I look them over, remember the moments, feel again the pang though more distant now than it first was, and I tuck them away again.

As I watched the service today unfold, I couldn't help but compare the two.  The tones were so very different.  This one a strange sort of celebration, a life long and well lived, an expected and even anticipated end.  That one a nightmare, a life cut short before it had a chance to really take off, a tragedy that caught us all off guard.  She was 106 1/2.  He was just 10 days shy of 18 years.

The chrome takes me back.

I'm only 30, but in my life thus far, most of the funerals I've attended have been for situations more similar to the latter - young lives, tragic deaths, funerals planned by parents or family who should have been long gone before these cherished individuals were buried.  The stillborn, the teen car accident, the young cancer patient, the Christmas car accident, the skiing accident, and the one just a year ago today.

A year ago a child was sick, just a virus of some kind, the normal kind.  (Did I mention both of my babies have a virus of some kind today?)  A child tucked safely in bed, asleep, resting so her little body could heal.  (It's evening.  And we are tucking our babies into bed so their little bodies can rest and heal.)  Except her body did not heal.

And my heart cries out, screams in my chest, WHYYYY?  Why did that happen?  And please, PLEASE GOD, don't let it happen again!

No one knows what this night will hold.  Tragedies happen all over the world each day.  I'm privileged that so few have happened closely around me.  But the weight of the day, the weight of death is heavy on me.

Jesus wept.  It's the shortest verse in the Bible, and often it's pointed out as a comfort, that Christ felt the pain of death too as He walked on this earth.  But for me, tonight, the only comfort I find is that to weep over death isn't a sin.  If Christ did it, and He was sinless, then sorrow is no sin.

I know Jesus conquered death and that is a wonderfully comforting truth.  At today's service we sang Victory in Jesus.  It's an upbeat, toe-tapping hymn about the victory we have if we know Christ.  I know Christ.  I know Him well.  So well, in fact, that some might call Him my crutch.

Especially on nights like this where the day's weight is piled heavy on my shoulders as I sit and reflect, He is not my crutch.  He's more than that.  He is the only thing that carries me through as I cling desperately to Him.

A year ago, I was angry, I didn't understand, I threw a toddler-style temper tantrum on the floor of the Throne Room.  And then I crawled up into the lap of the God whose ways I do not understand and rest in the truth that He is sovereign and He understands and He is in control.

Tonight as I listen for my babies through the monitor, I have to stop myself from rushing in to check on them.  I close my eyes.  I see myself carrying my children.  I slip through the massive double doors.  I walk with them up the long royal carpet.  I approach that intimidating figure: the God who created the world; the God whose Son conquered death; the God who miraculously cares about me.  I step up to the Throne.  And I lay my babies into His lap.  I cannot protect them any more than I already have.  I have done all that I can.  I cannot ensure their safety or their next breath.  For that matter, nor can I be sure of mine.  So I crawl up too, and ask my husband to join as we rest, peacefully, in the arms of our Lord.

Here in His arms, "why" doesn't seem so important.  Here in His arms, I will rest tonight, in these arms of the one who conquered that vile thing: death.

 

It's a BOY!

A week ago we got a new member of the family - a kitten.  It is black and super fluffy and came to us by a series of unfortunate events that turned out most fortunate for us in the end.

You see, my sister's cat snuck out of my mom's house about 3 1/2 weeks ago.  She's not the smartest cat (although perfect in every other way) and definitely not an outdoor cat in any way, so when Puff went missing and didn't return within a few days, we started grieving.  Then, about 2 weeks into Puff's disappearance, my mom heard about a stray kitten that some friends had picked up, and they could no longer keep the kitten.  One of their 3 dogs tried to eat it.  So Lily and I went with Mom to check out the kitten.  It was a total keeper!  Great with kids, good with other animals (as long as they didn't try to eat it), and at the perfect fun stage of being litter trained and able to eat dry kitten food, but still adorable and SO fluffy!

So Mom took the kitten home on a Tuesday night.  We visited the kitten Wednesday, and then Mom had my kids Thursday and Friday because Chase and I were out of town.

Friday afternoon I got the call:  Puff was back.  PUFF WAS BACK!!!!!  Skin, bones, and fur; dehydrated; dirty; back.  SO exciting!!!

But this meant my mom now had 3 cats - my brother's cat, my sister's cat, and the kitten.  She likes cats, but 3 seemed excessive.  We didn't think we would be able to take the kitten, because we rent for now, and cats aren't permitted.  But we took the question to our landlords, who graciously agreed to let us keep the kitten! ...as long as the kitten did NO damage.  And amazingly, this kitten has done NONE.

That was a week ago, and what a marvelous week it has been!  Lily christened our little kitten, "Whitaker." The only "problem" with the kitten is that it is SO fluffy, it's impossible for a non-vet to tell whether it's a boy or a girl.  Our friends took it to the vet soon after they picked it up and before the dog tried to eat it, and their vets office was split.  One vet thought it was a boy, one vet thought it was a girl.  The verdict at that time was, "You'll have to wait and see."

So we took it to our vet yesterday.  And, as you have probably guessed from the title of this post, the answer was definitive (though it did take some effort to arrive at):  kitten is a BOY!!!

Which for us was a relief!  I mean, Whitaker is totally a boy's name.  But all week we'd been calling Whitaker "her," mostly because all of the cats I grew up with all through my life were girls.  So we've spent the last two days retraining ourselves to use the pronouns, "he" and "him" and "his" when referring to the little fur ball.

Yesterday after the visit to the vet, I had this conversation with my 3 year old daughter while we were on the way home:

Lily: Mommy, is Whitaker a boy or a girl?
Me: He's a boy.
L: But I think he's a girl, Mom.
Me: But, honey, the vet looked and told us he is a boy.
L: But I want him to be a girl.
Me: Well, you know how God made you a girl and me a girl, and God made daddy and your brother and Frazier (our dog) boys?
L: Yeah.
Me: God made Whitaker a boy.  We don't get to just choose.  God made him a boy.

That is the conversation I really had with my 3 year old.

All this build up brings me to what I really want to write about.  Actually, I don't want to write about it, because it's touchy, and weird, and it makes people crazy.  I'm not trying to offend or frustrate or condemn or alienate anyone.  But I do need to write this.  For myself.  For my kids.  For my family.  For my future.

I have a huge problem with the transgender movement telling everyone, eventually trying to tell my kids, that they can select their gender.

Before I go any further, let me again say, I am NOT out to cause more pain! For goodness sake!  Anyone who is in a position of physically being one gender and feeling like they are the other is enduring serious pain and heartache.  And if that's you, I hurt for you!  I am sorry that you are facing this very difficult situation, and I pray that you find help and healing.  And if that's you, you will have to find help and healing in a way that truly heals you.  I mean that.  And with what I'm going to say next, I don't want you to hear that I know how you'll find healing.  I don't.  I'm no expert on such things at all.

But I do know one thing: true healing doesn't come through believing lies.

True healing, the real deal, the kind that lasts, comes always, ALWAYS with the foundation of truth.

So, let's get back to my conversation with my 3 year old.  Let's imagine that she's not 3 anymore, but 13 or 23.  And let's imagine that we're not having the conversation about her kitten, but about her friend, or about her.

(I pray that she doesn't struggle with this herself, and I pray that her friends don't either, but in this day and age, I have to face the reality that I need to equip her and all of my children to deal with these questions.  Because if I don't, someone else will.  And while I will do my best to help her reason through things and search always for truth, someone else might simply tell her what to think.  And if she doesn't know how to discern if their answer has a foundation of truth, then she might believe lies, and that could cause her a lifetime of agony.  I desperately want to help her avoid that.)

Last week, there were moments when I really felt like Whitaker was a girl.  His little personality is so sweet and cuddly.  He has exactly the perfect temperament to put up with my littles who are "learning" what "gentle!" means.  I'd look in his eyes and somehow imagine him as a her.  So strongly did I have this feeling that I ordered a purple collar for the kitten.  Not that only girls wear purple, but in my head, he was a female cat and needed a purple collar as opposed to blue or green.

While what I felt about the kitten affected what I put around his neck and which pronoun I called him on a regular basis, it doesn't change the fact that genetically, he is a male. (PS We're keeping the purple collar, because purple isn't a boy color or a girl color.  It's a color and it's a pretty color for a collar!)

My mom admitted that if she had kept the kitten, she would have wanted him to be a girl.  Her other two cats are females.  Mom is a female.  They kind of have an all-female thing going for them in the house.  Adding a male cat seemed out of place.

But despite what Mom wanted to be true about the kitten (that he would be a girl), it turns out that Whitaker is a boy.

I read an article on the Matt Walsh Blog a while back that, while more crude and aggressive than I tend to be, I totally agreed with.  It was titled You are born a man or a woman.  You don't get to choose.

In the article, Matt talks about a male who has a transgender surgery and takes hormone replacement therapy, to achieve a feminine physique, and then fights in a female combat competition of some sort (not really my kind of entertainment, so I'm sorry if I'm butchering the lingo).  The transgender movement was thrilled by the fact that this man woman person beat the tar out of his/her female competitor.  But when it really comes down to it, the truth is that the DNA of this person is male, no matter how he changes the outside or how many hormones he pumps into his body to change the tissues inside.

(Have you ever been on hormone therapy of any kind?  I've been on birth control and coming off of it was a nightmare!  Again, these surgeries and medications and therapies that are part of the transgender choice are NOT fun.  I believe that a person must be hurting very VERY badly to make the choice to undergo all that physical pain.  I am so sorry that these people are hurting so badly!  But the truth remains... or does it?)

I used to think that if something could be scientifically tested and proven true over and over again via the scientific method, then we could all agree about it.  So let's talk blood draws.  There is a blood test, used at this time very rarely, for moms in the very early stages of pregnancy whereby the mother can learn the gender of her baby.  Except, I guess, if the doctor tells the mother she is having a boy, and the mother really wants a girl, then the mother can simply change the baby's gender because of her own desire?

But I'm sure that's not acceptable in any ideology, because that would be impressing the mother's view on the baby.  So perhaps it's instead that the baby should get to determine their gender after they're born?  But at what age do we start believing them?  My 3 year old switches back and forth between telling me she's a girl and telling me she's a boy sometimes 20 times a day.  When do we settle on one if we don't go with what DNA tells us?

(Side note - it's strange to me that all of this transgender movement is hitting at the same time as the "Gender Reveal" fad.  I mean, finding out if you're having a boy or a girl at about 20 weeks gestation is HUGE!  There are reveal parties, reveal pictures, the ultrasound tech hiding the gender picture in an envelope so the parents can learn it at a set time.  So you get super pumped to have your boy, and then at age [whenever he can talk and express his opinion otherwise] he gets to decide he's a girl?)

I read this article a few years ago, and it just struck me as weird:  Parents keep child's gender a secret
The effort these parents go to in order to "not have their child defined by what's between the child's legs" is amazing.  And to each their own.  This parenting thing is wicked hard!  But I can't imagine the amount of effort it would take to NOT share my child's gender in those first weeks.  To be honest, their little butt cheeks are out more than in with all the pooping they do in those first hours, days and weeks.

And while I disagree with much of their parenting philosophies, I'm sort of with these parents in that toys and colors do not a gender make.  If my boy wants to play with dolls, he will be able to.  If my daughter is inclined to wear blue and push cars around, that would be ok with me.

To help those around me (and because I think they're cute and because someone has to make a decision about what they wear - I'm the Mom, so I guess that decision rests on me) I dress my boy in the mostly "boy" colors of blue and green.  And my girl has a mind of her own, and it is definitively set on pink, and sparkle, and pretty, and twirly.  She ranks skirts and dresses based on their "twirl-ability factor."  I didn't do that to her - I try to dress her in things that don't twirl (and consequently don't require tights on a 15 degree day).  She wants tights and sparkle and twirl. (Unless she wants to tromp through the snow.  Then she wants boots rather than sparkle shoes, but only because my requirement is that if she's stomping through snow, she must be wearing boots.)

But not acknowledging that what is "between my child's legs" in some way defines who they are?  That seems... well... naive?  foolish?  a lie.

My babies do not have to fit any mold but their own.  They are unique individuals, created as one-of-a-kind.  One of my all-time favorite kids books is On the Night You Were Born.  It has a line in it that I just love, "...there had never been anyone like you ever in the world..." The book's simple verse speaks to the uniqueness of every child. That Heaven rejoiced with each birth, with your birth.  And while each of us and each of my babies is unique, we all must figure out who we are.

We each have to look somewhere for the answer to that very difficult question: "Who am I?"  We look to our families, to our jobs, to our schools, to our teachers, to our peers, to our pets, to our clothes, to our doctors, to our toys, to our preferences, to our television, to our computer/iPhone/Kindle/electronics, a million places to answer that question.  And everywhere we look, we find answers.

Our families tell us we are wanted, or maybe we aren't.  Our jobs tell us we are successful, or maybe we're not.  Our schools and teachers tell us we're smart, or maybe we're stupid.  Everyone, everywhere had ideas about who I am, who you are, who my babies are.

But I am responsible for figuring out who I am, and figuring out who I'm going to believe when I am told something about myself.  How do I do that?  Where is the plumb line of truth?  How do I know that I'm building my beliefs about myself on the firm foundation of truth?  And the answers to these last three questions help determine how I will set an example for my babies to follow - they will learn how to figure out who they are based on how I figure out who I am.

Sometimes, when life gets confusing, going back to the basics is the only thing to do.  I check my body structure.  According to the classification systems we have in this life, I can confirm that I am human.  I check my medical records of blood tests, urine samples, physical exams.  Indeed, I am female.

If I didn't want to look female, I could cut my hair, change my clothes, take hormone therapy, even have a gender change operation.  But changing my DNA.  That can't be done.  The fact would remain that I am still, always, female.

I know that there are cases, RARE cases in which gender is complicated.  And you know what, I've wondered what I would do if my child was born "intersex" (or ambiguous genetalia).  The answer is that I don't know what I would do.  That is hard.  I don't have an answer for that at all.  And if that ever were to happen, I would figure that out at that time.

But what I do know is that in most, MOST cases, there is a clear gender that can be determined by a quick "diaper check" or a blood test.  And even when it can't be determined that simply, even in those rare cases, there is STILL a classification that those individuals fall into, and at the very least, I would help my child find part of their identity in that.

Why do we question gender?  To me it seems like the most basic, most simple truth.  So when my 3 year old asks me, "Mommy, am I a boy or a girl?"  I respond instantly, "You are a girl."

I want this unchanging truth firmly embedded in her adorable head right along side the, "I love you" truth.

So much in this life is questioned.  There is uncertainty all around us.  Let's not try to add gray shades to things that are so obviously and simply black and white.  Please?  For me.  For my babies.  For my family.  For the future.  And, you know what?  For you.  Because you deserve to know who you are on a most basic level.

Welcome to the family Whitaker.  We're so glad you're a boy.

 

30 and counting

In 40 minutes I will no longer be in my 20's.  It hasn't (thus far) been a hard thing to wrap my head around.  Honestly, #23 was the hardest birthday I've had yet - definitely the closest thing I've had to some sort of "mid-life-crisis" happened then.

Far from a crisis of any kind, my 20's have been, on the whole, marvelous.  Chase asked me yesterday, or maybe it was this morning, what was left to do on my 20's bucket list.  I couldn't think of  a single thing.

I got married at 20.
I graduated from college.
I got a fantastic job after graduation.
I went to grad school and got my M.A. in American Government.
We lived in Washington, DC.
We moved home to Nebraska.
We have our Lily and Connor.
We have the blessing of a strong network of support from our friends and family.
We are learning more all the time about who God is and how He draws us closer to Him all the time.
I've read some fabulous books.
I've read some books I didn't think were fabulous, but I got them checked off my list.
I have had jobs in the past and have a job now where I get to do different things all the time, where I'm constantly stretching and growing, and where I can make a contribution to my family and my community by working.
I have met and even spent time with a few famous people.
And most recently, we got a kitty!

You know, it's a silly little thing, the kitty.  When I was little, like 3, I had a kitten named Whitney.  A yellow tabby who adored me.  I would stuff Whitney in my pillowcase (with my pillow) and Whitney would stay there until I got him out to play with again.  Mom remembers that all of my shirts from the summer of Whitney were snagged, because the I would carry around my kitty and he would cling for dear life to the front of my shirt.  And when I was done carrying him, I'd rip him off my shirt and put him down.

Whitney died after maybe a year.  The victim of a car incident as I recall.  So there came a long stream of Whitneys to follow.  All yellow tabbys, all named Whitney, all meeting unfortunate ends early in the relationship.  I remember coming home one day and there was a shoebox on our front porch and on it was a note of apology from our neighbor.  Whitney the 4th (or maybe 5th... I can't really remember).  After about 7 Whitneys, my brother brought home a gray kitten for me one fall evening.  She was a 'fraidy cat for sure!  She hid anywhere she could find, but you know, I had her clear until I was in college.

Misty Minerva Rotten Ralph Deichmann was her full name that sort of grew up organically over the years.  But we just called her Ralphie most of the time.  She was our family's cat, but she was really my cat. She wasn't brave really at all, but she was so good.  She'd hide if there were strange or scary noises (like the iron hissing with steam, or the toilet flushing, or any number of other daily noises).  But she loved to snuggle, especially at night while I read.

One of my favorite Ralphie stories was when there was a ninja mouse in my room.  You think I'm making it up, but I saw, and vividly remember, hearing the faint scratching noise that only a mouse can make when it walks.  It was directly to my right as I sat in bed, coming from somewhere on or near my nightstand.  I tried to ignore it.  Tried to pretend it didn't exist.  Until I couldn't ignore it any more, and I looked to my right.  Ninja mouse hurled himself from the edge of my lamp shade toward me on the bed!

I don't remember how I got out of my room, but my 14 year old self managed a speedy escape.  I closed the door behind me and told Mom we had to put Ralphie in my room to catch Ninja mouse.  She said we could do that, but she also recommended putting a mouse trap in there.  I put Raphie in, she put the trap in, and I slept on the couch that night.

The next morning I cautiously opened the door a crack and peeked in.  There stood Ralphie, proudly holding Ninja mouse in her mouth...  Ninja mouse who was dead trapped in the mouse trap.  She was so brave!  (PS  Good call on the mousetrap, Mom.  I'm not sure I've ever thanked you for doing that.  Genius.  Though I'm sure if the trap hadn't been there, Ralphie would have pulled through.  Nice not to have to put the pressure on her, though.)

I didn't really intend for this to become a blog about cats, but I guess that's what I want to write about now that I'm almost old no longer young ancient 30.

Today we got a kitty.  It sort of just happened to us and we weren't expecting it at all, which is really the best kind of situation sometimes.  It started about 2 1/2 weeks ago when my sister's cat, Puff (Princess Persia Pufftail to be precise) who lives with my mom, went missing.  Now, Puff is something of a wimp ditzy ...let's just say she's an indoor kitty.  She's about 6 of 8 years old, and has lived most of her life indoors (barring the few times she got out and got stuck in trees or bushes).  So when she must have snuck out and she definitely disappeared, we were all a bit concerned.  She's declawed in the front, so her chances of catching something to eat were slim to none.

She'd been missing over a week when Mom found out about a stray kitten who had been rescued by some friends.  The kitten needed a home, and the kitten passed the "Lily test."  Lily stays one day a week with Mom, and any kitten Mom got had to do well with a 3-year old who loves kittens.  Stray kitty passed the test.  So Mom kept the kitty for about 4 days when, lo and behold, after over 2 weeks, Puff returned!  We were SOOOOO excited!  But now...

Now my mom had not only the new kitten, and Puff, but also my brother's cat, Kuzco.  She didn't really like the thought of being a 3 cat household, especially when Kuz and Puff "roared" at the kitten all the time.  (At least, that's what Lily calls it.)  So we did a little talking about it, evaluated the options, and viola!  We now have a kitten!

Honestly, I can't think of a better present for my 30th than a kitten.  It's probably going to be more Lily's cat, but it's sleeping on my shoulder as I type.  We've played and played today since we got it.  (We don't know yet whether it's a boy or girl.  It's black and so fluffy you simply can't tell!)  But Lily picked out its name:  Whitaker.  Funny she picked that from the list of about 8 that we gave her.  My first kitty's name was Whitney.  Her's is Whitaker.

Beyond an unexpected and incredibly pleasant kitten, I have also gotten a night away with my husband, a jumping-out-of-Grandma's-arms-welcome-home from my son, a day of shared kitty delight with my daughter, and a million other blessings.  I'm actually a bit overwhelmed at how very blessed I am at only 30!  What a marvelous life I have.

In 3 minutes, my 20's will be over.  Here's to hoping my 30's are even more amazing!

Halloween and the Huskers

Halloween

I grew up in a conservative Christian community that rarely celebrated Halloween in a "traditional" way.  We definitely never wore "scary" costumes, and were more likely to be found dressed up as our "favorite Bible character" or not dressed up at all.  And we wouldn't trick or treat - we'd go to a "Halloween alternative" where you'd go around and get candy...  (In retrospect, that whole "favorite Bible character" thing doesn't really make any sense.  Shouldn't Jesus be everyone's favorite Bible character?  I mean, Savior of the World who conquers death kind of makes everyone else pale in comparison, right?)

I definitely see the dangers of many Halloween traditions, but let's be honest - there are a few traditions that are, at face value, harmless.  For example, dressing up as fun things and going door to door to get candy.  Or on the flip side, handing out candy to kids who come to your door dressed up in adorable or interesting or crazy or Elsa costumes.  (I quit counting Elsa's when I'd seen 10, and it was only about 6:30!)

So we dressed up our kids and took them trick or treating.  Here is the obligatory picture of kids in costumes on the front step by the pumpkins: 

It was cold, so I did put coats and shoes and all manner of warm clothes on my kids.  And truth be told, Connor was only a pumpkin for this picture.  After we took it, the pumpkin came off and his puffy coat went on, and once he was bundled in a blanket and hat, we put him in the stroller.  The poor guy couldn't even move, but he didn't seem to mind.  :)

Here is our trick or treating partner, Bob the Builder:

Lily's little friend is about a year and a half older than her, so he had the trick or treating thing down!  It took a little coaching at the beginning ("Next time they let you pick out of the bowl, only take ONE piece, not a handful."  "Tell them 'thank you.'"  "Take the orange Reeses, not the brown Tootsie Rolls if they give you the choice.")  Ok, so the first two bits of advice were given by me; the last was Chase's contribution.  It got to the point toward the end of the evening where Lily and her little friend would run up to the door themselves, say trick or treat, get candy, say thank you, and then skip back to us with Lily saying, "I got the good stuff, Dad!"

Toward the end of the night, we actually had to unload Lily's overflowing candy bucket so she could keep trick or treating!  It was a huge success - lots of great candy, a few Halloween rings, a pencil, and two tracts.  I hope you all had as good of an experience trick or treating as we did!

Huskers

The next day we left the kids with Chase's mom for the day, and my mom took Chase and me to the Husker game.  It was chilly, but it was fun - good company, good food, and a win.  What a marvelous weekend!

The seats were really, really good.  They were just a few rows up over the tunnel where the visiting team comes out onto the field.  So we got to see some action in the end zone up close!

We took our time getting out of the game, and ate at Chipotle afterwards (I wish you could each experience what that's like with Chase.  It is his FAVORITE place to eat.  He literally bounced the entire walk from the stadium to Chipotle...  If he's ever in a bad mood or struggling, if I can get him Chipotle it instantly changes his outlook.  I'm not even kidding.  It's crazy.)

All in all a great weekend!

7 Months, Flies, Pumpkins and the like

Life is so full of interesting and fun things these days I simply can't remember them all, let alone blog them.  But here are a few things I do remember...

Lily-ism

Last night at supper, a fly was pestering us.  It landed on a jar that was sitting in the middle of the table (not a food jar), so Chase got the fly swatter.  He crept back to the table, poised to use the swatter for its designed purpose.  Just as he was about to swing, Lily realized what was happening and she shrieked, "Daddy!  Don't!  He's my friend."  

Connor-ness

This handsome guy is officially 7 months old today!  (Sorry, ladies, he's all mine!)

I can't imagine life without him, and 7 months seems like such a long time ago... until I think about what it was like 7 months ago, and then I'm just SO glad I'm not there any more!  I really try to appreciate each day.  Just as you never get day 1 over again, you never get day 49 or 207 or 23,745 over again.  Each day is precious, and although many over the past 7 months have been hard as Connor and I have figured each other out, I wouldn't trade a single one.  ...But that doesn't mean I can't be thankful that we are where we are today, right?

Speaking of being hard as we're figuring each other out...  The last week has been a bit rocky.  We're good during the day, but my little man was NOT sleeping well at night.  I'm talking up at least every 2 hours.  For example, he would go down at 8, up at midnight, 1:30, 3:15, 4:20, 6:15, and then up for the day at 7:45.  He's not a bad sleeper in that I'd go in and feed him about every 3 or 4 hours (maybe more often.  I'm not really sure.  It's hard to remember what you did last and what you should do next when you're operating in the middle of the night on no sleep.).  And then he'd go right back to sleep.  Or I'd give him his plug (paci) and he'd go right back to sleep.  Or I'd roll him from his back onto his tummy and he'd go right back to sleep

Bu here's the thing: he can do all those things on his own (put in his paci! My favorite mile stone! and roll over.  He can't feed himself, but he's old enough and certainly eating enough that he shouldn't need to get up at night.  That hasn't stopped him, however, from getting me up at least 2 times every night since the day he was born...)  So why was I doing all those things for him?  

Because.  Because he shares a room with his sister, and I didn't want him waking her up.  So I'd stumble in there, bleary-eyed and try to decide what to do to make him quit making noise.  Well, yesterday was the end.  I couldn't do it anymore.  My body aches, my mental state can't take it, and for pete's sake, I need a little me time where I'm not simply exhausted!  So sleep training started last night.  Here's the run down:

After a little research, I decided to let him cry any time he woke up for 10 minutes.  At that point, I would go in, make sure he had his plug, start his music mobile, make sure he was on his tummy and covered by his blanket and then walk out of the room.  I'd do this every 10 minutes until he fell back asleep.  If he woke Lily (who was warned that he might cry in the night), I would scoop her out of her bed (which is next to his), carry her to the rocking chair in the hall, rock her until he fell asleep, then put her back in her bed.

Here's how it went last night:

Night 1 - Connor was bed and asleep at 8pm, no problem (he always goes down easy)

Round 1 - 10:30pm-11:00pm.  Crying intensity was a 6.  Mommy win.  He went back to sleep.

Round 2 - 1:28am-1:43am  Crying intensity was a 4.  Mommy win.  He went back to sleep.

Round 3 - 3:36am-4:28am  Crying intensity ranged from 2-9.  Mommy win.  He went back to sleep.

Woke up for the day at 6:50am

Tonight he went  to bed at 7:30.  It's now 10:17, so we'll see how it goes.  I can say that I'm happier already because I can plan on a full night's sleep sometime in the near future, like a few days from now, or maybe even tonight!  It's the light at the end of the tunnel.  Also, when I wake up in the middle of the night, I don't have to decide what to do - I already have a plan.  It's marvelous!  

To top it all off, Lily slept through every bit of it last night.  Not a peep from her!  Totally awesome! And Chase only woke up for the 15 minute episode, not the 1 hour episode.  It sounds cruel, and it probably seems like a lot to lay there and listen to your child cry for an hour in the middle of the night, but we were at the point of him being awake and in bed with me for 2 hours in the middle of the night, so this is really a pleasant change!  And I can tell he's going to take to this very well once we get through these first few nights.

I'm not a big fan of the whole cry it out method - I like soothing when I can, but there is a reality to everyone getting good sleep and littles learning to self soothe.  We're there.  And I'm looking forward to being over the hump!

Pumpkins

I think I said in my last post how much we have loved the pumpkin patch this year.  It's been amazing.  Here are some pictures from one of our visits:

And with that, I'm going to go to bed and hope/pray for no sleep battles with Connor in the night.  But if we end up having a round or two, at least I'll know what to do!

'Night y'all!

Life, Football, and Mobility

Every night as I collapse lay down in bed, I think of at least one and often many funny, clever, or memorable things that I should blog about.  And then I end up reading instead of writing, because I'm too exhausted and/or lazy to get out my computer.  So here are just a few things that have filled our life lately...

LILY

Since Connor was born, I've worn him every now and then in my Ergo (front carrier).  When we were shopping a few weeks ago, Lily found a giraffe that she just loved, and since we got it a few weeks ago, she's been carrying it around.  Sometimes like this:

Last month, Lily turned 3, which means that she now gets all of the privileges and responsibilities normally bestowed upon any 3 year old.  In our world, that means she now gets to go to Children's Church on Sunday mornings.  This month, Chase and I have been teaching Children's Church, so it's been an easy transition for her.

A couple of weeks ago, we had a guest fill the pulpit at church.  (I think a requirement of filling the pulpit should be that you have taught Children's Church at least once.)  He went on for a LOT longer than the typical time allotted for sermons.  So...  So we whipped out the secret weapon: Chase.

That Sunday, we sang "Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes."  ...well...  MOST of us sang "Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes."  Chase sang, "Cranium and Clavicle, Patella and... [insert fits of hysterical laughter by 9 small children here]."  We spent the next 473 attempts at the song trying to teach Chase the way to sing the song.  Sometimes he'd get the words right all the way to the end, but then get messed up by the ever-confusing "Head and Shoulders, Knees and Nose..." ['NOOOOOoooooo!  It's knees and TOES" 9 little voices shout at the top of their lungs].  All I can say is that it's a good thing our class room is really far away from the sanctuary.  Here are the kids "teaching" Chase the song (Lily is all the way on the right):  

 
It was very funny.  And now we have to sing that song every week.  And it gets all of the kids wound UP. And we have a marvelous time.

Lily has become quite the negotiator around our house in the last few weeks.  Or perhaps it's just that she's found her daddy's Achilles heel: football.  She'll sometimes ask me during the day, "Is there football on tonight?"  And then in the evenings, about the time I start the bedtime routine, she asks, "Can I watch football?"  If it were simply me, this wouldn't be any problem.  I'd say, "No, it's bedtime."  However, if she asks her daddy, he says, "Sure, just a little."  Ten minutes or an hour later I find them still cuddling on the couch under the guise of her "learning the rules of football."  It's cute and sweet, and mostly I'm glad.  But, honey, you are getting played!  Her desire to watch football magically surfaces only at bedtime... yeah.  Someday, Daddy, you'll have to face that one.  Just know she's got you figured out!

She's also very good at giving instructions these days.  The other day when I was driving across town, I stopped at a stop sign.  Then her sweet little voice instructs me to, "Be careful not to hit the other cars."

The vast majority of the time, I have a very content and happy 3 year old.  She loves to read and to color.  Lately she's been coloring literally for hours a day.  (Note to self: get her new markers for Christmas.)  And one of her little habits I love is that when I ask her to do something like, "Lily, would you please throw Connor's diaper in the trash?" She responds, "Of course.  I'd love to, Mother."  *Sigh*  I love her.

SIBLINGS

I have two marvelous children.  They are siblings, and it's so fun to watch them develop together.  About a 2 weeks ago I ran into the grocery store (for like the 100th time that week) to get just a couple of things I needed.  It's always a question when I run into the store: Do I take Connor inside in his infant carrier car seat, or do I unstrap him and leave his car seat in the car?  If he'd be happy just sitting in his carseat, then that's the easiest option.  But then Lily can't push her own cart, because I need to put him in a big cart.  If I get Connor out of his car seat, then that means I have to carry him, and my back has been all kinds of hurting lately, so that's not always a great option, especially if a "quick run into the store" turns into 20 minutes.  And then there's the question of how to juggle purse/wallet/cash at the check out while corralling my 3 year old and keeping my 6 month old from grabbing my purse/wallet/cash and dumping it all over the store...  It's exhausting even thinking about it...

So for the first time, I tried this:

HUGE SUCCESS!!!!  Children content and happy, Mommy's back relaxed and not straining, groceries fit in the cart that was not filled by a car seat, no juggling baby while paying for said groceries.  Whoever thought up 2-seat-car-carts should be given a Nobel Prize or something.  Seriously glorious!

CONNOR

My baby boy is growing and changing so much every day.  He's started laughing at the funniest/strangest things.  Like today, Mom told me he laughed when she would drop marbles into a jar.  And tonight he dissolved into giggles when Lily would throw Frazier's Frisbee.

He will crawl soon.  Tonight when I laid him in his crib and then went back to check on him, he was up on all fours, rocking back and forth, back and forth.  I'd seen him get up on all fours, but not for any extended period of time.  Tonight it was like 10 or 15 seconds.  Which doesn't sound like much until you watch it happen and see how not baby-proof your house is...  I'm excited for it, though. I love to watch him explore and take in and experience and learn the world around him.  It's so cool!

Everywhere I go, people comment on his funny hairdo.  I can't help it - whatever I do it sticks up in this awesome halo of super fine, super soft fuzz around his head.  "Wow.  Look at that hair!" they say.  And I'm here to tell you that only God Himself could make it so.  Connor pulled out all the hair had when he was a newborn, and now it's growing out perfectly evenly, and it sticks straight up.  That's my boy!

We went to the Scarecrow Patch last week with my mom.  I had such a wonderful time (I'd never been to a pumpkin patch before, except for that one time I went with my roommates in college...), that I came home and all I could talk about with Chase the whole evening was how much fun the Patch was.  So we're going again.  Tomorrow.  And Chase is expecting Eutopia, which basically it is.  Above is Connor in the corn - he didn't even try to put any in his mouth.  (He's perfect, just like his sister!)  And below, he is honing his driving skills for the next time we go to the grocery store.

FRANCL FUN

One thing we try to do a lot around our house is have fun.  Sometimes it's as simple as finding a puddle to splash in or a book to read or a fort to build.  And sometimes it's more elaborate like going to a party.  Last week, we went to my nephew's birthday part at the bowling alley.  It had been a while since Chase or I bowled, and Lily had never bowled.  My nephew thought he was too good to bumper bowl, but Lily still got to use the dinosaur to bowl, and she was pretty good.  (Chase used the dinosaur to bowl too, but it still went in the gutter...)

This week was friend week at dance class (actually "creative movement" class, Lily's favorite event each week), so we invited her best friend to come.  Thankfully, he was brave enough and comfortable enough with his boy-hood to enter the class of all girls and participate like a little pro.

Thanks for coming Roman!

I'll wrap up by just saying how wonderful fun is when you have friends and family to share it with!

3 Parties and a 6 month old

We have literally been partying for a week!  Lily turned 3 years old today (Oh, how very glad I am that we're past where we were 3 years ago!!!!!) And here is a record of all of the festivities...

Party #1: The Cousin Party

On Chase's side of the family, there are 5 (out of 9) cousins who all have birthdays in the month of September.  So instead of trying to cram in parties every weekend, we celebrated them all at once.  

Lily and her cousin Ella getting ready for
the business of birthdays: presents!

Lily, modeling her birthday loot.
(Yay for dress up stuff!)

Here are the 5 cousins:
Zion (2), Lily (3), Ella (6), Caleb (13), Jaryn (15)

She could NOT WAIT to dive into the cupcake.
Also notice the fancy glass she got for her birthday.
Couldn't wait to use that!

Party #2: The Uncle Party

After partying with Chase's family, we partied with my family.  Lily's Uncle Tony has a birthday a week before hers, so we went to Mom's for a party to celebrate both of them.

Lily, preparing for the birthday festivities.

Modeling the sparkly heels she got.

Opening presents.

Getting ready to blow out candles with Uncle Tony.

Party #3: The ACTUAL Birthday

With 2 parties already celebrated last weekend, that just left us with the ACTUAL birthday to celebrate today.  Last night, I started talking to Lily about not being 2 anymore.  She told me that her birthday is on "September 28th."  Yes, indeed.  I told her that we might have to start working on learning her address when she's 3.  I asked if she knew her address.  She replied, "Yes.  It's pink, isn't it, Mom." 

This is what a 2 year old going to bed looks like.

This is what a 3 year old waking up looks like.

When we asked Lily what she wanted for her birthday, she said, "Donut holes."  So her daddy went and got her donut holes first thing this morning.  She her wants won't always be so inexpensive.  We'll enjoy this while we can!  Besides, who doesn't like to start out their birthday with donut holes?!?  And why is it that donut holes taste better than donuts anyway?

Ready for church.  Isn't that a great dress?
When you're 3, you get to wear great dresses.

After church, we went to the local cafe for lunch.
The waitress overheard that it was Lily's birthday
and brought her pancake with a candle.

 

We ended the day with a party with my Dad's side of the family.
Great grandparents, Grandpa, and Aunt and Uncle.

Candles, cake, candy, and ice cream never get old!

About Lily at age 3

Lily is simply delightful as long as she's not overtired.  (When overtired, she can be a bit whiny.  And we're in that hard in-between-nap-stage.  If she doesn't nap, she's exhausted by early evening.  If she does nap, bedtime is 10 or 11.)  Her vocabulary is amazing and she's learning nuance of words.

She often tells me to "trust me, Mommy" when I tell her no to something she wants.  Still figuring out the nuance of what "trust me" means...  She also told me tonight as I put her to bed that her feelings were hurt.  Turned out her jammies were too tight on her toes.  Not exactly her feelings, but she's trying.  She also spent most of Wednesday this week trying to convince me that she had a "happy cough" not a "bad cough" because I said we couldn't go to play group because of her cough.  It's lovely!

She's starting to ask "why" a lot, and that gets frustrating for me, until I remind myself that this is how she is learning about the world around her right now.  I can't always answer the why's, but I can help her learn about the things she's experiencing.

She curtsies like a princess.  She has a caterpillar that is invisible that needs to be taken out of the bathtub after every single one of her baths.  She gets out of the tub, I wrap her in her towel, she reaches back down toward the water, and she hands me an imaginary little caterpillar.  I put it on the hood of her towel and we go get her dressed.  The caterpillar makes random appearances every now and then in other places, but he is ALWAYS in the bathtub after baths.

She tells me about her feelings, and this is something I cherish and pray continues forever.  We were driving home from lunch after church today, and Lily said from her carseat in the back, "I'm feeling sad."  I asked why she was feeling sad, and she replied, "Because I want to go to the park."  (We had just driven by the park that is 3 blocks from our house.)  "Oh," I replied, "Maybe your dad could take you to the park this afternoon.  Would that be ok?"  She nodded.  I asked how she was feeling.  "I'm feeling happy, " she confirmed.  :)

She's my girl, and I love her!

About Connor at 6 Months

Not to be left out of the action, this little guy
turned 6 months old today. And let me tell you,
he rocks this baby business!

I feel like the time with baby #2 goes by so much faster!  But then, he's been part of our family forever. It's a weird but delightful dichotomy.

He started sitting up on his own in the last week.  A week ago, he needed the Boppy around him; today, he's good on his own for a long time.

He is a strong little boy, and LOVES his jumper/exersaucer.  He spends a lot of time in it, bouncing and bouncing and bouncing and bouncing...  And he's just so pleased with himself and happy to bounce!  All the bouncing has strengthened his legs, and my little guy can stand quite well while being held upright.  He's also getting good at scooting himself around.  I have a feeling that by 7 months he'll be army crawling and by 8 months I will have to baby proof my house!

He tried his first food about a month ago, and he eats like a little champ.  ...And he gets mad when you take a break in the middle of feeding him.

Just in the last week or so, he's started crying when I leave the room and smiling when I come back.  It's fun to be recognized and wanted.  :)

But did I mention he's large?  My boy has the most wonderful, squishy thighs.  I can't get enough of them!  I squish them every time I hold him, because they are so delightful!... and heavy.  He's heavy.  My back and shoulders and neck tell me that every time I pick him up.  But I can't help myself!  :)

Connor loves his sister and watches her all the time.  He smiles every time she pays him any attention, and he reaches for whatever she's doing (which will soon become a major problem, I have a feeling).  He likes the texture of hair, and pulls mine whenever he gets the chance.

He's my boy, and I love him!