This past weekend was chock-full of celebration. My youngest nephew, Luke, was dedicated at church on Saturday, Corin had a little birthday bash with our Georgia family Saturday night, and we celebrated Luke’s first birthday on Sunday. Nothing beats celebrating milestones with these kiddos.
Trying not to miss a thing is a little tricky when one is also drinking a bottle.
The cupcake eating is getting serious.
“What have I done?!”
Headed to the bath tub
Yesterday afternoon, I sat on the floor of the self-proclaimed largest indoor playground in Nashville and fought back tears.
Anyone watching probably thought I was going through some crisis. I wasn’t. I was looking at the clock and realizing that just about exactly that time four years ago, I was holding my son for the first time.
Corin’s birthday always takes me back to the years of longing that preceded his arrival. I think about the crushing disappointments, the yearning, the physical toll of fertility treatments. Then I look at my son, now four years strong and full of life, and… truly, words fail me. Everything I might say falls short of expressing the overflowing gratitude I feel. He is a walking, talking miracle, that boy of mine.
We had a party Sunday. Planes are Corin’s current obsession, so a planes party it was. My parents were kind enough to host at their house. As usual, I procrastinated and then spent several days working my tail off, but it payed off. Everyone had a great time, and I have the pictures to enjoy (no thanks to my son and his camera aversion).
Special thanks to my friend, Laura Wensell, for taking a lot of these photos.
I may have forgotten to do the candles and song until Corin’s cake was half eaten…
Like I said, camera averse
And now for a post that’s truly overdue…
At the end of January, I took a trip with the kids to Florida to see a very dear friend and her family. We discovered that two adults to five children is not really any easier than one adult to two or three, but we tackled outings with gusto and balanced it out with some quiet time at home. I was a tad apprehensive about flying alone with two kids for the first time, but thankfully, both my kids travel well. We did not make enemies of our fellow passengers. The kids and I got sick half-way through our visit, which added an extra level of challenge. Baby Girl did not appreciate being in an unfamiliar environment while feeling markedly subpar. I know this, because she would not let me set her down for a moment without subjecting the neighborhood to ear-splitting wails. Thus, my pictures of the trip are a little sparse. (If you’ve ever tried shooting photos while holding an unhappy baby, you know what I mean.)
Whatever the challenges, it is always worth it to reconnect with friends. Our kids are growing up fast, and Corin and Eleanor – just a few weeks apart in age – played together beautifully. Corin happily would have stayed behind at Aunt Lila’s house. These times make me wish I could collect in one place all my friends and family spread out across the globe, so we could be a part of each other’s lives in ways so hard to accomplish long-distance. Here’s to loved ones in far-away places; we miss you all.
Why, yes, that is a backyard zip line. Thanks to Frank and Susan for an awesome afternoon!
A lollipop, a tire horse swing, some sidewalk chalk on the pant legs: more elements of a very good day.
“I’m King Herod’s solider!” (That Christmas story really stuck this year.)
I call this series, “A Study in Contrasts: Happy Baby, Sad Baby.”
Lina was sleeping. Also, I am clearly not a professional photographer. Getting four kids to all look at the camera and smile at the same time is an accomplishment well beyond my skills. Actually, it’s just my kid who won’t look at the camera and smile.
18 years of friendship and counting
We bought zoo passes today, so you may be subjected to a great many photos similar to these. It was an awesome way to enjoy the weather.
And… she’s out.
My children do not always do so well with change. The truth is, neither do I. But life, I am learning, is change. That’s what keeps things interesting.
Over the past year or so, Jon and I have researched, talked about and prayed over the topic of our kids’ education. I won’t drag you through the details of our process, but we have arrived at the decision to relocate our family to Williamson County, on the south side of Nashville. The schools there are exceptional, particularly in their approach to special education, and the area provides access to tremendous resources for Lina, starting now and carrying all the way through to adulthood.
Our house is currently on the market. That’s an adventure in itself. We have no idea how long it will take us to sell, and once we have a contract, there’s the challenge of finding the right new house in time to avoid homelessness. (Relatives have offered to take us in for a week or two, if necessary, and worst case scenario is renting for a few months while we shop.) Prices are steep where we’re looking, and inventory is low. It’s a seller’s market, and we’re buyers. But God has answered a lot of prayers thus far, and we’ll just keep following where He opens doors.
In the meantime, Corin is struggling with the idea of leaving the only home he’s known. We’ve tried to keep it all as low-key as possible amidst realtor meetings, packing up extra belongings and preparing for showings, but that kid is perceptive. He knows what’s up, and he senses our stress. We’ve garnered a few new ideas to try to ease the transition. The tantrums and helplessness have eased – a little. (“But I can’t possibly put on these shoes that I’ve been putting on by myself for the past 6 months!”) He’ll be fine. He’ll survive and eventually settle into life in a new home, as we all will.
Just don’t ask me how I feel about leaving the hand-painted Narnia mural in his room. Or the bedroom where my daughter was born. Or the therapists and TEIS teacher we’ve come to love. Or… I better stop now.
I have been an absolutely abysmal blogger of late. I apologize. It’s not for lack of happenings around here. I solemnly promise more to come soon.
For now, I leave you with a few photos from the last week or two, taken with my birthday present – a new Canon Rebel T3i with the 18-55 kit lens. My old camera was around 10 years old and had Issues. (Anyone want a Rebel XTi? Cause I got one you can have cheap.) Anyway, I am greatly appreciating my humble upgrade. I’m also fervently hoping this was the last snow and ice storm of the season.
What? You don’t mow your lawn in the snow?
At least more snow means more use for my fun Christmas boots.
As indicated by the fact that I am posting to this blog rather than out dining on dainty portions in a hushed atmosphere, we did not have major Valentine’s Day plans. But today was nice. It was busy with housework and the usual parenting minutia, and Jon is sick with round 647 of the Winter of Plague. But it was nice.
For the man in my life and me, this is not a season of high romance and frequent wining and dining. That’s probably one of those things that sounds terrifying to couples without children. See, the romance will die if we have kids. But you know, it’s not like that. It’s more like this:
Which may not make non-parents feel any better. But really, this is where we are, and it’s okay. It’s messy and hectic, and we’re really tired. And yes, we could use a date night. (Which is why we’re planning ahead for my birthday next week – hoo-rah!) But truly, these kids light up our lives. I vaguely remember those Valentine’s Days before kids, and somehow it seems now as if they were missing something. Today, I got to make heart-shaped pancakes for a pre-schooler who raved about how awesome they were and a baby who demonstrated her appreciation by devouring one as fast as possible and then smearing the residual almond butter in her hair. I did laundry and made beds and cooked a very pedestrian dinner of pea soup and cornbread. I dealt with tantrums and wiped butts and generally was nowhere in the neighborhood of romance. But I looked at the love of my life over the cluttered dining room table, and it was enough. Tonight he gave me a lovely necklace and a little card that told me he’s madly in love with me. My card to him said something about being the only Valentine for me through 12 years of the nitty-gritty everyday. You ask me, that’s what true love is.
Not that we won’t be counting down to the night out next week.
My son woke me from a sound sleep at 2 a.m. last night, calling that he needed to go potty. It’s rare for him to need to go in the night, but when he does, he is of the firm conviction that he requires company. This is perhaps our fault, because we made an iron rule when he moved from a crib to a toddler bed that he was never to get out of bed without permission, unless it was to use the bathroom. The first part sunk in nicely; the latter part did not.
In any case, I got up with him for a couple minutes, then headed straight back to bed. I then lay awake for the next 2 1/2 hours.
I don’t know what it was about having children that forever destroyed my ability to sleep like a normal person. I now require ear plugs and a sleep mask, and even then, I go through regular bouts of insomnia: not falling asleep despite being exhausted, not being able to get back to sleep if I wake in the night, waking too early in the morning… I knew going into kids that I wasn’t going to sleep much with little ones who were not sleeping through the night. I did not realize that even once my kids were sleeping all night, I might not be able to. It’s possibly a genetic issue kicking in now that I’m in my 30s, as there’s a family history of insomnia starting around this time. Whatever the case, it sure makes for a tired mama.
Also, my preschooler is running a 100.5 fever. I expected this. After all, we’ve all been healthy for a good two weeks. I was talking to a friend about our constant illness and the fact that I just have to hope all these relatively minor bugs are building my kids’ immune systems so that when they get older, they’ll be able to avoid major illness. It’s what keeps me going through all the snotty noses, fevers and crabbiness.
As always, we just keep plugging along. Life is busy around here, and we’re looking forward to a trip to Florida to visit dear friends next week. Let’s hope we can get this latest round of sickness out of the way before then.
I was reflecting again recently on how my perspective has evolved since Lina’s birth.
I look at Lina now, and I see a beautiful little girl, growing and learning every day at her own pace, just like every child does. I see a precious individual, a priceless gift to our family. I look back on my pregnancy and her birth, and I no longer feel loss. Instead, I feel only the joy of her. I absolutely cannot imagine having any other baby. She is perfect for us, the child we hoped for and dreamed of for so long. She is in no way less than: not less than any other child, not less than the imaginary child we expected. She is complete and amazing.
I used to read similar thoughts from parents of kids with disabilities. I would nod and think, “That’s so awesome and so true.” But I realize now that deep down, those parents sounded to me like second place contestants trying to be okay with the consolation prize. I thought they were being brave.
I’m ashamed of that truth. And sometimes, I’m ashamed of the grief I felt after Lina’s birth. I know in my head that it was necessary and healthy to grieve the baby I thought I was having and to mourn the more difficult path that lay ahead. I realize that stabs of pain and grief will continue to be a part of life as Lina’s mom. (Pain and grief are probably guaranteed in the life of any mom.) But in some ways, that initial grief feels so out of place now. Why would I grieve this amazing child? I look at her, and I feel pride and joy. Disappointment has no place between us.
This has been my journey. There’s a lot more to travel yet; we’re really just getting started. I am not brave or extraordinary. I am a mom who loves her kids like crazy. And though it no longer feels necessary to say, I’ll state for the record: Lina is nobody’s consolation prize.
A Christmas Review Well After the Fact, and in Two Parts
(Part I)
Christmas Eve supper is a long-standing traditional feast in my family, with an offering of gourmet cheeses and crackers, fresh fruit and veggies, and the crowning piece de resistance, my dad’s beyond-amazing, almond-filled Christmas wreath bread. The kids played, we feasted, and it was a lovely evening.
(All the photos in this post are courtesy my brother. Thanks, Ry!)
As is always the case, pretty pictures tell only part of the story. Christmas Day was long for the kids (but certainly not for the adults), dinner was late, and it turned out Grandma Titus was not well (which resulted in most of the rest of us coming down with a thoroughly unpleasant stomach bug within a few days). But our family was together (even if we were trying to keep the kids away from poor great-grandma), the food was fantastic, and there was great delight over wonderfully thoughtful gifts. Ultimately, Christmas for us will always be celebrating the most important gift ever given with the people we love the most. At its core, it’s really that simple – and that deep.
A Dash of the Unexpected 