“When We Were Little” Wednesday

When I was little – eight years old, to be exact – a movie came out that provided a good portion of the soundtrack of my childhood.

Dirty Dancing came out in 1989, I think, and its music quite literally was a theme in the motion picture of my younger years. My younger sister Ashley and I would dance around my parents’ house to “The Time of My Life,” “Stay,” “Love is Strange,” and “Be My Baby,” (if you can imagine such a sight). We would even argue over who got to be Baby and who, to their chagrin, had to be Penny. Our favorite scene to reenact was the one on the log in the woods, where Baby is learning balance and poise. Classic. (I'm kinda surprised we were allowed to watch the movie in the first place, but I think my parents realized we were clueless as to most of what was going on and that we really just liked the music.)

I downloaded the Dirty Dancing soundtrack on iTunes yesterday and the flashbacks began. It got even more poignant when, as I was listening to it while cooking supper, Leah got fussy and somewhat inconsolable. In an effort to soothe her, I began dancing with my daughter around the kitchen to the very same songs I used to dance to with my sister, twenty years ago. It’s come full circle. Scary.

Grocery Store Beef

I realize that nearly every time I go to the grocery store, I come away with a story or two. I actually didn't realize this until last week when Scott came home and the conversation began something like this:

Me: I went to the store today.
Scott: Have any stories?

It never occurred to me that the grocery store was the source of so many of my interactions with other people that are worth writing or telling about.

In any case, I did go to the store today, and I do have something to say. This isn't so much of a story, though, as it is a comment.

Why are people all up on me when I'm trying to pay and get my bags? Seriously. Why can't they wait another half a minute for me to gather my bags and cart before moving forward in the line and hovering over me? This happens to me every time I'm at the store, and I'm sorry, folks, but silly me - I want to make sure I'm taking with me everything I've just paid for. I don't think I'm unnaturally slow. Please back up for one second. I promise I will be gone very soon, as it is not my goal in life to tie up the grocery line forever. Seriously. Back up.

Disclaimer in my own defense: I feel like I rant a lot, and I'm afraid that might give you - who have no other frame of reference on my character - the impression that I'm something of a negative Nancy. I promise I'm a lovely person. I really am. There are just lots of things I don't understand.

The Newest Cousin

Eli David was born last Thursday – healthy and strong! Seven pounds, three ounces, and 19 inches long.

I can’t remember a time when Leah was even remotely that tiny. It’s going to be so much fun to watch them grow up together, so close in age!

Welcome to the world, little Eli!

Leah of Late

Leah is growing up so much! I can’t get over the fact that she’s rapidly approaching 7 months old!

We’ve *almost* got a daily routine established….though now that I’ve said that she’s probably going to throw me for a loop tomorrow. She gets up (with or without me waking her up) between 7:30 and 8:00 every morning and has breakfast, followed by playtime until 9:30 or so. I read her a couple of little books, and then she takes a nap for up to 2 hours. Lunch is soon after she wakes up, and then we run whatever errands we have that day. She stays awake for the errands, for the most part, and once we get home she usually has a bottle around 2:00, a little nap, and a snack – juice and a cookie – at about 4:30 or so. Supper comes at about 6:30, after more playtime, and then she plays again for awhile before a quick nap before her bath. Bathtime is 9:00, followed by a bottle and bedtime. This routine has stuck for a little while now, and it seems to work for her.

Lately, in the playtime after dinner we’ve also included a family walk around the neighborhood. She loves it. If she’s been fussy, this is a good way to mellow her out, because she just leans back and watches the world go by.

She’s still very much obsessed with her toes. This doesn’t seem like it would be much fun anymore, though, because she has two – count ‘em – TWO teeth now.

I’m having to keep a closer eye on her now, too, because she’s sitting up on her own, as of this past weekend.

She’s such a little lady!

The other morning when I went to get her up, this is what I found. Where’s her other arm, you ask? It’s there, under the bumper. She’s playing with the strings to tie the bumper on the outside of the crib. I have to keep my eye on that one, too.

Have I mentioned that she still likes to suck on her feet? Yeah, she does…..with or without shoes.

She’s a little dream. I love life with her!

Like mother, like daughter.

If given a choice, she would rather play with a shoe - A SHOE - than with any of her toys. That's right. She likes Mama's flip flop better than anything else.

(It kind of freaks me out a little how humongous my shoe is next to her. I promise I don't have giant man feet.)

Cookies

"They're G-R-R-R-E-E-E-A-A-T!"

(That's not a cookie, per se, but that's what I call them. It's actually a Baby Mum Mum Rice Rusk, made almost entirely of vegetable powder. How cool is that?)

32 Things

I was unofficially tagged by Malissa at A Young Single Mom's Life to do this one, and it looked fun.....so here we go.

Note: I'm writing this on Wednesday and scheduling it to post on Thursday, so though you won't read it until Thursday or later, the "yesterday" I refer to is actually Tuesday, which on Thursday is actually the day before yesterday, and the "tomorrow" I refer to is actually Thursday, not Friday. Are you with me?

Eight things I look forward to...
1 - Our beach vacation next week.
2 - New series at church, starting this week: "Deeper: Leaving Shallow Christianity."
3 - Seeing Leah sit up by herself and crawl. I can't even imagine her doing that!
4 - Meeting our new nephew upon his arrival into the world tomorrow.
5 - Date night on Fridays.
6 - My next meal. I'm not pregnant anymore, but I'm not gonna lie. I love to eat. Always.
7 - Our 4th anniversary next month.
8 - Vacation to the mountains this fall with my family.

Eight things I did yesterday...
1 - Washed a load of Leah's clothes.
2 - Made brakfast for supper.
3 - Went to WalMart with Leah to get a new watch battery, a gallon of milk, and baby food.
4 - Wound up buying a couple of additional things that were not on my shopping list.
5 - Took a walk with Scott and Leah after supper.
6 - Watched part of a VH1 special that Scott had taped on the best 100 songs of the 1990s.
7 - Looked online for baby shopping cart covers.
8 - Clipped coupons.

Eight things I wish I could do...
1 - Visit Nina and Becca in Pennsylvania.
2 - Be a better money-saver.
3 - Get a perfect inspiration for the book I feel I'm supposed to write.
4 - Protect my family from danger and illness.
5 - See myself the way God sees me.
6 - Catch up on my scrapbooking.
7 - Learn to live more in the moment.
8 - Be content.

Eight Shows I Watch:
1 - House
2 - 24
3 - Friends
4 - CSI: Miami
5 - Golf , because I love my husband.
6 - American Idol
7 - Jeopardy
8 - Everybody Loves Raymond

“When We Were Little” Wednesday

When I was little, there were certain bowls and dishes that were always – and I do mean always – used for certain foods. So much so, in fact, that if my sisters and I saw certain dishes on the counter when we got home from school, we knew what we were having for supper.

For instance, there was a white ceramic bowl that always made an appearance when we had breakfast for supper. This bowl was – and remains - “the scrambled egg bowl.”

There was a round cookie sheet that was always used for making cheese toast. This was – and is – “the cheese toast pan.”

There was also a brown bowl that was used – and used often – for green English peas. (My younger sister was quite the selective eater when she was younger, and this was the only green food she would eat. Well, that’s not true. She ate green Now & Laters.)

A few months ago, Mom and Dad were doing some cleaning out of their cabinets and many of these dishes were among their “discardables.” I was dismayed that my sister got to the pile of dishes before I did and claimed the scrambled egg bowl and the cheese toast pan, but I was vindicated by snatching up the pea bowl.

Ah, memories. Somehow these peas taste better when they’re served in this bowl. I can’t explain it.

"You comin', Daddy?"

"The British Open is on."

It's lonely at the front.

Some of you may know - others probably have no idea - that I speak in front of my church every week. I don't have a big and major role, by any means, but I do get up and I do speak from the stage with a microphone (without notes, which sometimes proves to be a mistake). I welcome everyone, give a brief spiel about what we're going to be discussing that day, and pray to begin worship. I enjoy it. I never would have thought - never in the absolutely wildest and most incredible dreams that my mind could fathom - that I would do something like this. I'm an introvert at heart, and I never would have picked up that microphone for the first time had God not put the pieces in place for me to do so and made it crystal clear that He wanted me to do this. I have never enjoyed public speaking, but because He has opened this door and created this opportunity for me, I have come to love it and - strangely enough - feel that this may be one of the areas in which I have been gifted. God certainly has a funny sense of humor, and I'm appreciating that more and more every day!

All of that being said, something has been on my mind a lot lately, and I feel that I should share. I don't in any way want this to come out as a complaint, but more as a statement of fact that will hopefully get you thinking. I repeat - I love what I do in front of the church. I am so thankful to God for creating an opportunity for me that I never would have given a second thought. I relish that I get to be a part of ushering people into His presence to worship Him.

However, it is lonely at the front.

What I mean by that is this: Everyone thinks they know me, but I know hardly anyone. I imagine it's probably very much the same situation television and radio personalities encounter, in that because of what they do, everyone feels that they know them personally. In reality, though, all the public knows is a name and a face and whatever tidbits about themselves they may choose to disclose on the air. They do not know a person - personally - in the way that daily exposure to this person makes them feel that they do, and the public personality knows nothing about these people to whom they speak on a regular basis.

No one is a stranger, and yet everyone is.

It has happened to me more than once that someone addresses me by name and I have never even seen them before. (The stage lights are crazy bright, people.) I have introduced myself to people and had them stare at me as if to say, "Um, yeah.....I know who you are," and then fail to introduce themselves to me. I have had people say that they "know" me when I have never had a conversation with them.

The cumulative effect of this is utter loneliness.

I don't know if my position makes me intimidating, or if everyone assumes that I have a close circle of friends they don't know about, or what. I don't know how, exactly, it happens. It does happen, though, that while everyone feels that they know me, I am alone. As I mentioned, I am an introvert, and it is very, very hard for me to approach people to initiate a conversation. It is so much easier for me to get onstage and speak one-sidedly to a room of dark silhouettes than it is for me to walk up to a group of two or three people and join their conversation. Friendships do not come easily for me; this is why I cherish the ones that I have.

I have worked on this, and I continue to get better in this area. I don't seek pity or sympathy in telling this. It is a struggle for me, though, and because it has been weighing on me somewhat heavily lately, and because I suspect that others share my sentiments, I felt I should share it with you. Through my story, my message for you, dear readers, is this:

Do not replace my stage with a pedestal. I am just like you. I do not have everything together. I am a big mess that, for reasons unbeknownst to me, God chooses to use.

I need people. I need friends. I need relationships, just like you do, and while my introversion may make it appear that I don't need you, I really, really do. I need you, even though I don't know you. Talk to me. Talk to me like a regular person, and don't forget to tell me your name. You know mine, but you are a stranger to me who I would very much like to get to know.

I’m ready for my close-up.

Little Lion

Leah has taken to roaring at anyone and anything. It's really, really cute.....though somewhat inappropriate when she decides to do it in the middle of church. (That's part of the reason - only part of the reason - that she was in the church nursery for the first time today.) The cutest part about it is that you never know when she's going to do it. She'll be sitting with you, perfectly content to look around or play with one of her toys, and will randomly look up at you, lean in, and roar at you. She's captured many hearts with that little move. She doesn't always want to be the center of attention, but it seems more and more that when she wants your attention, she wants your attention. This little one has lots to say, folks, so listen up.

Just wondering

Baby food companies - Gerber and Beech Nut, namely - make lots of fancy baby food varieties for the discerning infant. There are Garden Vegetables, for instance, and Sweet Potato and Corn. Not too bad, especially the latter.

Why, then, are there no jars simply labeled, "Potatoes" or "Corn"? They can obviously puree these two key vegetables if they can include them in medlies, so why can't they make them to stand by themselves?

I know I can just mash some potatoes up for her, or open a can of creamed corn, but really. I'm just wondering why the big baby food giants don't see fit to make these for babies. Seems weird to me.

Oh.....and while I'm on the subject of things I'm wondering about..... Leah liked the jarred meat baby foods (YUCK, says Mommy) at first, but this past week has seemed actually offended that we would offer her something so terrible. Is it normal for babies to change their minds on whole categories of foods? (Perhaps I said too loudly one too many times that the idea of chicken pudding was, well, repulsive. Oops.)

Sharing

The other day Leah and I spent the morning with my friend Rachel and her little boy, Isaiah. Isaiah is 17 months old, so he and Leah were kind of cute as they interacted. It went something like this:

Rachel and me: “Isaiah, why don’t you lay down there next to Leah? We can get some pictures of you together. Where are you going, bud? Wait….no…..come back…. Oh, well.”

Isaiah: “Hmm……what’s she got? That looks like a….”

“…..let’s see…….”

“I was right! It’s a DUCK! Look, Mama!”

Leah: “Wait a second. He’s got……he’s got my duck!”

“Hey, kid! I’ll trade you this ladybug for that duck. Whatcha think?”

“All right. I tried to play nice, but you’re not cooperating. Get back here with my duck!”

“I’m telling!”

For Future Reference

As pondered and discovered (and *maybe* done) today on my way to and from the grocery store, here are things to do when sitting and waiting at one of those orange "STOP" signs held by a road construction worker wearing a bright orange vest and hat:

1. Contemplate what your next blog post will be.
2. Flip through the myriad of CD's crammed into your visor CD holder. (You *might* find some Christmas CD's in there, or something you've been looking for for *approximately* six months. You might also find a variety of odds and ends that have gotten stuck there because you didn't know what else to do with them, such as - and this is completely hypothetical - your expired gym membership card or your "Georgia Voter" sticker.)
3. Count the change in your ashtray. (You *might* discover that you have enough for an iced coffee.)
4. Stare awkwardly at the road construction worker wearing a bright orange vest and hat.
5. Clean out your glove compartment. (You *might* find your missing phone charger.)
6. Try not to think about your need for a restroom. (You *might* make it.)
7. Examine your fingernails. (You *might* not like what you see and *might* decide to work on them sitting right there.)
8. Pull out a road map and look at all of the other ways you could have gone home and thereby avoided the road construction worker wearing a bright orange vest and hat.
9. Thank the good Lord above that your child is asleep.
10. Watch the FedEx truck trying to pull out of a subdivision and imagine what he might have inside.
11. Sing loudly (and *probably* badly) to a random CD from your stretched out CD visor.
12. Call your grandmother, whose car you just saw parked next to yours at the grocery store, but who you did not see in the grocery store.
13. Worry pointlessly about your frozen food that *might* be melting in the back of the car.
14. Plan an elaborate menu for supper that you probably won't ever cook.
15. Wonder if the other people stopped by the road construction worker wearing a bright orange vest and hat are likewise entertaining themselves.
16. Read and be inspired by a few verses of Scripture in your pocket Bible. (You *might* wish you had your journal to make a few notes.)
17. Make a mental to-do list.
18. Make a mental note to put a small pad of paper in the console of your car for times like this.
19. Ponder the bumper sticker on the car in front of you. (You *might* find that it is a good subject for a future blog post.)
20. Wave, with a smile, at the road construction worker wearing a bright orange vest and hat as you go by. (If you think you have it bad because you just lost 25 minutes of your life, remember that they *might* have it worse. They're standing on hot pavement in Georgia in July wearing a bright orange vest and hat, and you're in your air conditioned car. The least you can do is try to brighten their day with a smile and a wave.)

“When We Were Little” Wednesday

When I was little, family was always the number one priority for my parents and, consequently, for my sisters and me.

We had supper together every night at 6:00. As I got older, in high school, when I was out with my friends I always had to be back home for supper. This was not because my parents forced me to, but because I wanted to. I enjoyed that time together, talking about our days and what we had going on. A lot of my friends envied this nightly ritual my family shared.

Family vacations – to Saint Simons Island or Gatlinburg or to see our grandparents in Columbus or Montgomery – were something to anticipate and enjoy with gusto. We would all load everything up into our Ford Econoline van, where my sisters and I would bicker about who got to sit in which seat. (The back, of course, was primo. The seat laid down into a bed, really, and we felt oh-s0-far from the front. It was our own little world back there.)

Weekends were a time for outings to the lake or park or miniature golf or bowling or roller skating. I remember one particular weekend we rented a boat at the lake and we all piled in. My younger sister Ashley and I were chowing down on Cool Ranch Doritos and Now & Laters. (I have never eaten either of those that I have not thought about that day.)

We were always doing things together, and I cherish the relationships that we were able to build with each other this way. My parents made sure that we valued our time with our family, and I am so glad that they did. I want to be sure to build many, many strong and happy memories for Leah as our little family spends time together.

Less Than Ideal

Yesterday I took Leah to the doctor for her 6 month well-baby checkup and shots. Her appointment was at 3:30, so all day I had my "smiley mama" face on, trying to seem at ease so she wouldn't sense something was going on. (Poor thing..... When I scheduled her appointment two months ago, 3:30 in the afternoon was a good time to have her out and about. She didn't take a long nap at that point, so it was no serious disruption to her schedule. Now, though, her afternoon nap is becoming crucial. Combine that fact with the fact that she's teething, and yesterday afternoon all the poor little girl wanted to do was sleep and her mama wouldn't let her fall asleep in the waiting room. She was a pretty unhappy camper.)

The appointment seemed to be going well enough for awhile. She was sleepy and fussy, of course, but I was entertaining her with the alphabet wallpaper on the wall and a couple of silly songs and all was reasonably well. Her weight was terrific (16 pounds, 13 ounces - 75th percentile) and her height was, too (26 3/4 inches - 90th percentile). We were chatting amicably with the doctor and I was expecting much the same outcome from this appointment as from all the others - the declaration that there is absolutely nothing wrong with her.

As the doctor examined her legs, though, his brows became furrowed and he muttered something under his breath. This got my attention, of course, and I asked him what he saw. He pointed out the folds in her legs and the fact that they were asymmetrical. I couldn't really see what he was talking about; they looked fine to me, and I wasn't really understanding what he was concerned about. He pointed right at what he was seeing, and I could see then a little bit of unevenness in them. I asked him if that's bad, and he said, "It can be." He lifted her legs up so we could look at the backs of them, and it was even more obvious from the back. I asked what that means, and he said that it could mean she has congenital hip displacement, and that he's going to refer her to a pediatric orthopedic specialist to have it checked out. He made sure to tell me that of all the markers for this particular problem - clicks and pops in the hips, uneven knee height when bent, and the leg folds - she is only showing one, which is a good thing. He said that it could be nothing, but that it could be something; if it is this hip displacement, it needs to be treated sooner rather than later. Treatment at this point is just the wearing of a brace for a couple of weeks. Later, though, it could require major surgery.

Generally, I'm okay with all of this. I figure that it's a very good thing that he saw this (if it's anything at all) now, rather than a year from now, so it can be treated. I'm also thankful it's her hip and not, say, her heart or her eyes or something like that. The hard part for me, though, is hearing that my perfect baby girl might not be perfect after all. Do pray, though, that it's nothing serious and that it can be fixed easily. She's not in any pain or anything, but I just want to put this behind us.

Pray too, for her today - the vaccinations that she had yesterday have given her a bit of a fever today, and she's just not feeling very good.

Stay with me, here.

Have you ever found out about something that was around when you were younger and thought that if you have known about it then, you would have been really, really into it?

And then you realize that wait, you did know about it then, and didn't care anything about it because of the person you were then.....and that the person you were then was the precise reason you should have been involved in it?

And then have you ever thought that no, never mind, you wouldn't have wanted to be involved because of the people who did know about it and were involved in it?

And then did you think that it's kind of really sad that you would think something like that?

Those were the thoughts that went through my mind this morning during a presentation at church on Young Life. Are you familiar with this organization? They do amazing work with "spiritually disinterested" teenagers which, incidentally, would have been a pretty astute description of me back then. I wanted nothing to do with anything spiritual. My sister and I hid in the bathroom to avoid Sunday school, ran from the church's youth pastor (who now, in a hilarious twist, is my pastor), and basically treated church as a hassle. Not interested.

Isn't it sad that there can be something wonderful out there for someone, but because of simply who they are - a person who really, really needs that certain something - they are the least likely ones to participate? It is a sad irony that only hindsight can recognize.

In any case, I applaud the Young Life workers and volunteers. I would have been a tough nut to crack, and it's people just like I was that they are targeting every day. Bravo. Keep it up.

Growing, much?

Leah turned 6 months old yesterday.

She celebrated the day by sleeping and eating, pretty much all day. I had a hunch that meant she was growing, but I didn’t know the half of it.

After her bath last night I was getting her pajamas on her when I suddenly realized that the ones I was struggling to get her into were just not going to fit. She couldn’t straighten her legs, which would not make for a good night’s sleep.

So I put on another pair, only to find the same thing to be true. Too short.

And another pair.

And another.

And yet another.

I eventually realized that it would be easier on us both to simply stretch out each set of pajamas next to her and compare lengths. After chunking 10 more sleep outfits, I called Scott upstairs to see what was going on.

Out of curiosity, we pulled the pajamas out of the hamper that she had worn the night before.

THEY WERE TWO INCHES TOO SHORT FOR HER.

She *literally* grew two inches yesterday. Seriously.

How can this be possible? I feel like I can actually see the growth happening before my eyes. It’s unreal.

A Note or Two

Dear Sweet, Well-Meaning, and Pleasant but very Clueless Grocery Shopping Lady,

I appreciate your compliments on the cuteness of my baby. However, I’m somewhat confused.

I’m not one of those moms who believes that a girl baby should *always* be dressed in pink and that a boy baby should *always* be dressed in blue. I think that if a little girl’s mom wants to put her in blue or green or orange, or a little boy’s mom dresses him in purple, that is perfectly okay. Who cares? That being said, though, my daughter was in a pink shirt and skirt this morning in the store. She had on floral sandals, clutched a pink striped blanket in her fists, and sucked on a pacifier that said, “precious.” That is why I looked a little confused when you sweetly told me how cute my “little boy” was. That is why I was baffled when you asked me how old “he” is. That, too, is why I was at a loss for words when you said I should cherish every moment with “him.” When I responded with each statement with a “she” response, I think it’s funny that you were not deterred in your thinking.

I do thank you for your compliments, though. That was all very sweet coming from a stranger.

Sincerely,

Confused Mama

Dear Lady With the Other Lady,

I’m not sure it’s polite to rave on about how beautiful my daughter is and how gorgeous her eyes are, and then look at me and say, “She must look like her daddy.” I’m just saying.

Sincerely,

Confused and Slightly Insulted Mama

“When We Were Little” Wednesday

Welcome, friends, to the first installment of a weekly feature I’m starting called “When We Were Little” Wednesday. I’m excited about this, and I hope you will be, too!

The idea for this feature was conceived the other night as Scott and I were driving home from our weekly date night. (Thank you to Leah’s grandparents for making this possible for us!) The conversation did what conversations often do, meandering about a bit, an finally landed on a subject that stuck for awhile. For the majority of the drive home, Scott and I talked about “when we were little,” including our misconceptions, beliefs, fears, and dreams. It was a fun conversation, and the idea came to me that others might enjoy reminiscing this way. Thus, “When We Were Little” Wednesday was born.

My thought is this: As I am watching my daughter grow up, I am realizing how precious her childhood memories will be as she develops into a little girl and, eventually, a woman. I cherish every memory from my childhood and teen years – joyful, painful, and in between – because I know that without those memories, I would not be the woman I am today. For this feature on my blog, I will share a memory from my childhood, and will reflect on it however I can. I invite anyone who is interested to take part! I'm still looking into a Mr. Linky-type gadget to use, but until I do, just write a post on this subject with a link back to me. Leave me a comment so I can read what you wrote! (If you'd rather, you can just leave a comment with your "when I was little..." story.)

me, circa 1988, I think.

Today, I remember my dreams for what I wanted to be when I grew up. I went through many, many phases as a little girl and teenager (and – let’s face it – college student and young adult), and each phase pointed me in a different direction for my occupational future. At different times, I wanted to be a teacher, singer, psychiatrist, journalist, author, meteorologist, and tornado chaser. (Yes, you read that right. My mom and I were going to team up and chase tornadoes.) As strong as those dreams were at times, though, I don’t think I ever envisioned myself doing any of those things as vividly as I envisioned myself doing one thing: being a mom. I always took it for granted, I think, that I would grow up, get married, and have children. God planted that dream in my heart from a very early age, and regardless of any other dream I might have held over time, I dreamed – above all – of being a wife and mom. I am very blessed that today I am, in a very real sense, living my dream. It is more than I ever dreamed it would be.

Tell us about when you were little!

We need to talk. (A Post by Kitter)

To the people of the house:

She’s cute, right? Yeah…….she is cute, but we need to talk about something.

See, I’m a cat. I like loving and attention as much as the next cat, on one condition: it has to be on my terms. MY TERMS. That means I get to decide when and where the loving will occur. For the record, when I am cozily napping on a blanket on the floor, this is not the time OR the place for loving. Until recently, we all seemed to have an agreement on this point, and we were all happy.

Until. Recently. It seems that the little one has discovered me. It seems, too, that she rather likes me, and has no apparent awareness of propriety when it comes to interactions with Kitter. She has no awareness of when and where might be the right time to interact with me. She also has no concept of propriety of volume when she screams at me, of gentleness when she reaches for me, or of limits when I walk away in an attempt to stop the attention.

I am worried. I have a nagging feeling that this is only going to get worse. Can we do something about this, or is this just another one of those things that I need to “just get used to"? I’d like to know now, so that I can prepare myself. Or hide. In the closet. In the dark. Forever. Or at least until she turns 18.

I want one, I want one, I want one.

Yes, the dude on the infomercial is scary and annoying, but seriously. I want a Slap Chop. And a Graty. Can't help it.

Another Letter

My dear, sweet Leah,

I am amazed by you every day. As I watch you growing, changing, and ever learning, I am in awe of the natural progression of your life and wonder where that progression will take you.

You bring such joy to my life. I love the little noises you make. The squeals that cry for your daddy's or my attention. The little grunts of frustration when your toys don't play fairly. The ecstatic screams when Kitter walks by. The soft coos and giggles when something catches you by surprise. The deep belly laughs - and subsequent screams - when something really cracks you up. The wet trills of your little lips as you entertain yourself.

I love the plethora of expressions on your little face. The bright eyed grin when you roll over as you seem to say, "Didja see me, Mommy?" The mystified wonder in your eyes when you catch sight of something new. The fascination as you watch Daddy or me do something. The curiosity and intrigue as you eye my food. The determination as your reach for your toes and work to get them back to your mouth. The passion with which you follow Kitter with your eyes. The joy and love when I return from an absence - no matter how brief.

You are such a ray of sunshine, sweetheart. Being your mommy is hard, for sure, but it is the best challenge I have ever willingly undertaken. It is a noble cause I endeavor to accomplish - raising you in truth to be the woman God has designed you to be. I feel so unequipped and unprepared for this task, but I, too, am learning every day. It's all a wonderful adventure, isn't it, honey? I'm glad to be with you on this journey.

I love you, baby girl.

Mommy

Coming soon............

..........a special Wednesday feature! Make sure to stop by and join in!

What if?

This morning in church, our pastor was just beginning his sermon when Leah repeatedly raised her hand in the air, as though she had a question or something to contribute to the message. Jokingly, Mom and I said to each other that Leah had something she wanted to say, and laughed it off.

I thought about it for a second, though, and I had the strangest thought come to mind.

What if babies - fresh from God and new to this world - are endowed with an abundance of heavenly wisdom, but in God's infinite wisdom He sees fit that they should not be able to communicate it with us because we - very much in this world - are not ready to hear it?

Can you imagine? And how differently does that make you look at babies?

What an interesting thought. It is to me, anyway......you might think I'm insane, but to me, it's an interesting idea.

Happy Independence Day!

I want to wish everyone out there in the internet galaxy a safe, happy, and infinitely blessed day. I was thinking this morning about the infinite freedoms we have - as Americans AND as God's children - and was blown away.

Let yourself get blown away today by His goodness to us. It's a pretty amazing feeling.

New Shots

I haven't loaded pictures lately because quite frankly, there are way too many to choose from! As I found out last summer, my space on here is *not* unlimited, so I sometimes feel like I have to choose wisely. In any case, here are some of my favorites from the past few days.

This morning at breakfast, I finally caught this on camera. It appears insignificant, but it's dangerously close to the pose I held for the first 10 years of my life. I sucked my left index finer, upside down, and here she's almost doing it. Uh-oh. We're definitely keeping our eyes on that one. She is what she is, and if she's going to suck her finger there's not going to be a whole lot we can do about it at this point, but still. Ten years is a long time.

"Thank you, Lord, for cookies!"
Yes, honey, Mama says she same thing all the time.

This girlie LOVES her cousins. Fortunately, the feeling is mutual. They're all pretty fascinated with each other.

"Is this how it works, Mommy?"

Methinks it might be a little early still for the sippy cup, but I had to try. She was more interested in chewing on it.

Babyproofing, here we come! She scooted over to the cabinets in her walker and played with the handles. The time, it is a-coming.