Today’s the day!

It’s one of the most frequently asked questions I receive.

Is he or isn’t he?

For the longest time I haven’t really known how to respond.

“Well sort of…”

Exploring your room and checking on your baby brother…

You darn rascal Charlie, you’ve been teetering around taking four or five steps at a time for a few weeks now.  And you have long since mastered using the push walker, which you now use to run races with your big brother.

But the moment anyone dares to cheer you on or point out that you are indeed walking (sometimes even across the entire room) you immediately drop to the ground.

For days now I’ve heard rumors that you were walking.  At the church nursery, when playing with other friends.  But you have been holding out on your mama for some reason.

Charlie choo-choo (our long-standing and favorite nick-name for our sweetie) something about today must have just felt right.  Because sweet boy you decided that today was the day.  (When will mommy ever learn that it’s your decision to make?)

It’s officially a good day for walking!  (Which will make picture taking a whole new challenge…)

I’m so proud of you my sweet Charlie choo-choo!

Another confession. Or two.

Since I’ve already shared my true feelings about Halloween I might as well put it all out on the table.

I hope my kids don’t ever want to go to Disneyland.  And I think the Duggars (from TLC’s 18 and Counting show) are one cool family.

Oh boy.  Before you think I’ve stepped off the deep-end hear me out.

On Disneyland:

Yes, I realize that my children would have a blast and in all honesty I probably would too.  However in all seriousness, (and before you completely write me off as a terrible mother) I’d better explain why I’d rather not take my kids to Disneyland or embrace all that it entails.

I guess it’s not so much Disneyland – it’s just an easy target and therefore prefect example.  Without a doubt many happy memories have been made there and I’m certain that our family will make the pilgrimage at some point.  It’s just that I’m not one for the super-commercialization of things.  (If you must know yes, it bothers me that my son recognizes Sponge Bob.  It bothers me that I have now written about Sponge Bob.)  I feel it’s worth asking: Why can’t we go to a place like Disneyland or the grocery store for that matter without someone trying to sell my kids something?  As Henry gets older I’m realizing how everything is marketed to our kids.  I’m not buying it.  I do my best to avoid character themed clothing and to encourage toys without character themes into our house.  Yes I realize that my days are most likely numbered and I will lose some control over this as our kids age, but for now I’m taking full advantage of my mom “veto” power.

A disclaimer, yes Henry loves Curious George and we have plenty of George books and a couple of stuffed monkeys.  I think the key here is m-o-d-e-r-a-t-i-o-n.  I don’t think Mickey Mouse is the devil.  However my kids aren’t wearing Elmo diapers while munching on a Hanna Montana endorsed cereal, which has been marketed to them during High School Musical, while they sit in their Transformer chair, drinking Donald Duck orange juice.  There is a difference.

My point?  I will not intentionally allow my children to become commercial billboards.  I want my kids to know that they can do and be anything – not just what is sold to their “target market.”  That just because every other little boy in America was a themed costume character, it’s still OK (and way cooler) to be Henry the fireman.  Or Henry the golfer, the architect, or yard guy.  I want so much for my son and I never want him to judge his worth by a product that he either has or doesn’t have.   My intentions for him are so much greater than some company that is just looking to make a buck at my child’s expense.

And just when I thought I was the only one that had such crazy thoughts in the middle of the night (struggling to stay true to what you believe – even when it’s not cool, or the easy way) I stumbled across another dad who has similar thoughts on the subject.

He writes:

…If the only thing you’re feeding your children is fantasy for breakfast they’re going to be starving by noon, crash, and want a taste of the solid safe everyday life. All of the sudden you blink, they’re 3ft tall, opinionated, and they’re feasting on Happy Meals and soaking in Dora the *&^%#@ Explora like some new kid religion. So when you set to drag them away from it, throw them an apple and suggest a walk they think you’re being a mean #^&%$#. They think you’re depriving them of the good life. I don’t want this to happen. I can’t let this happen. So what has become vital to me, is to teach them that they can have more, but at the same time making sure that I am never feeding them delusional promises I can’t deliver myself. If I want them to believe that anything is possible, than I have to show them proof of that in their own lives. It isn’t enough to say that the world should be explored, we will just have to go out and explore it– that kind of a thing.

This little family of mine has children that are still too young to know the difference between the things that they are “supposed” to have, and the things that they simply just need. They have a chance like all children do to live a truly unique life. I am living under the belief that I will provide them that unique life. If I didn’t believe that than I couldn’t smile everyday like I do.

Love it.

(I’ve edited this a bit, making it more G-rated, but you can get the full post at Pacing the Panic Room.)

On the Duggar family:

I have a eight-week old baby.  Clearly I’m spending quite a bit of time on the couch nursing.  This has resulted in a DVR full of “18 and Counting” episodes ready for me once the kids are in bed.  Some may call this lame.  Heck even I originally thought so, but even my sleep-deprived mush-for-a-brain was able to pick up some pretty cool themes.

I’ll give it to them – I think they are really on to something.  No, I’m not totally on-board with the whole 18 kids myself, but their decision to put family first is pretty darn cool in my book.  They aren’t afraid to go against the grain, choosing not to follow the “norms” that our culture has embraced.  Instead they have decided that people are the priority.  They don’t look at their children as burdens, and I’m doubtful that with 18 kids they have much in the way of “free” or “me” time.  But they are a very happy and loving family whose desire is to serve as an encouragement to other families.  And based on my postpartum observations that’s something to look twice at.

I realize that this post might make it seem like I’m teetering on the edge of crazy.  But I strongly believe that as mom, my role is to protect and guard my little ones as long as I can, because if I don’t then who will?  It may involve making choices (big and little) that will take our family down a road less traveled, but I’m ready for the adventure.

Slowly stepping away from the soapbox…

*I’m curious…your thoughts please…

**And yes I realize that as fate will have it next year I will end up with a Transformer, Handy Manny, and Clifford in our house for Halloween…

It’s your birthday!

I promised, so I’ll keep it short.

Happy Birthday.

To a way-cool dad with a fan club of three adoring boys.  (Though apparently only one has taken a recent photo with you.)

And husband.  You’re tops in my book too.  Hey, maybe we should take a picture together sometime.  Novel idea.

Love you.

Look what we found. And a confession.

A fireman, dalmatian puppy and a tiger.

Could they get any cuter?

I didn’t think so.

————-

A confession.

I don’t like Halloween.

I love fall – the leaves changing colors, the fresh apples, the pumpkins and squash galore.  But the holiday?  I could do without.  Sure its fun to play dress-up with your little ones, but I imagine that once they start clamoring for the polyester/plastic mask combos and slasher kits, it will lose any remaining bits of luster.

I also will confess that I buy an assortment of pumpkins for our front step at the fruit stand.  By myself.  No trips to the pumpkin patch, hay-rides or corn mazes with the kids.

Does this make me a bad mom?  I’d argue quite the opposite.  Instead of trekking to the pumpkin patch (along with our multitude of strollers, baby carriers, and a stuffed diaper bag) we have the freedom to make our own traditions – baking pumpkin bread or playing in the backyard with a pile of leaves.  I can assure you that the stress that I’m avoiding by doing this will earn me at least a few extra (and calmer) years.  And yes, I’m also certain that I’ll have to get over my dislike soon, as my boys will no doubt grow to embrace all of the rituals involved in this night of candy and treats.

That said – I’m pretty sure I spotted the cutest fireman-tiger-dalmation puppy trio – who just happened to be dressed up on well, you know – Halloween.

And then he smiled.

William.  It’s true.  Last night you slept in your own bed.  Sure it was literally two inches from mom – but it was a separate mattress.

We both survived the night.

You’d made yourself pretty comfortable on our bed. {And I was happy to be snuggling with my sweet baby.}

Sweet boy the days go by quickly.  My sweet newborn has grown into a darling little baby.  You’ve opened your deep-blue eyes and are busy taking in the world.

My mama heart fills with love for her growing boy and my eyes well up with tears. {It’s going by too fast! I love the newborn stage the best!}

But there you go doing all of your growing up things – losing your newborn hair {making room for your big-boy locks}, deciding that yes, you do like your pacifier and making coos and baby squeaks of delight.

Though more often than not you are giving me your famous “do you really know what you are doing?” look.

Then you smiled.

And I remember that I love this stage best too.  {I do this with every stage.}

Our week

In pictures.

Henry and Charlie had a blast racing each other around the house,

each lap faster than the last.

William did some “tummy time,”

but decided that he prefers “back time.”

Charlie took the opportunity to explore big brother Henry’s fort while he was away at school,

and made himself right at home – defending his newfound territory with a serious face.

And I tried yet again to get “just one” shot of all three boys.

Oh well.

This is just a small sampling of the many photos I took this week, which leads me to my question.  How do you store/sort organize your photos?  Do they live on your camera’s memory card, do you immediately print the ones you want to keep deleting the rest, use an online service…I’m eager to hear your ideas {include details!} as I’m starting to find my storage/organization methods aren’t the most efficient.

Keep Calm

The other night I had a revelation.

Our house is calm.  Even with three kids.

I’d better explain that.

The reality of life with three kids under the age of four is that yes, it does take more “work” overall.  Especially when it’s time to leave the house.  And yes, the logistics of having two that don’t walk can be tricky. But the truth is – our lives seem calmer.  What?!  How is it possible to have a more peaceful life when we’ve added another kiddo to the mix?

I should admit that I wasn’t expecting this calm.  I was actually bracing for chaos.  Caring for a newborn is all-consuming.  And when there are two other little ones in the picture survival mode has no choice but to kick into high-gear.  Every minute of my day is devoted to keeping someone alive, fed and somewhat happy.

Yet this transition hasn’t been chaotic.  Well-rested I’m not, but I’m calm.  I’m not panicked about a long to-do list.  I don’t have a calendar packed with commitments.  I’m not working on any projects.  I’m not worried about saying “no” to the many activities available to our kids.  And I don’t dwell on the future – if I have time for that I should be sleeping!  Having a newborn gave me the excuse to clear my calendar – no questions asked.  And as the result of my recent revelation, it occurred to me that I don’t have to fill it back up.  An “aha” moment for sure.

I originally assumed that this new focus on today and today only was born out of necessity.  Upon further reflection I realize that it is a gift – grace for sure – that has been given to me.  My daily tasks are simple – empty the dishwasher, another load of laundry, pick Henry up from school, therapy sessions for Charlie, and meals.  I’m no longer running around trying to complete “just one more errand,” or attempting any new fancy recipes for dinner.  To many it may not seem like I’m accomplishing much with my day.  I suppose that may be true when measured by the standards of our culture.  The role of a stay-at-home-mom is not a high-profile position.  I’m not making any money and it’s certainly not glamorous.  But everyone seems happier – and yes calmer – with our new slower-paced days.

There is something to be said for the calm that ensues when one simply lives for and in the present day.  Yet I’m not the first to have such a revelation.  Someone else figured this whole “take each day as they come” thing a few years back.  Come to find out Jesus was really on to something when he said:  ^“34Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”  Matthew 6:34  I’ve heard that passage a million times, but it took years for it to get from my head to my heart.  To live it.  To simply embrace the gift of today and revel in the freedom that comes in that package.

I didn’t just decide that our house would suddenly become peaceful, we had to make big changes.  As a result I’ve become much more confident about what I believe – that simply raising my children, being a mother and a wife, is enough.  That not only is it enough, it’s exactly where He wants me to be.  Of course I must still keep my prior commitments, but I can assure you that I’m much more particular about things that will take me away from my family.  And I’m much more aware of the “just because I can do it all, I should” traps.  There will always be an opportunity to “help out,” or add “just one more” activity, but my kids will only be little once.  I will not miss that.  And my husband deserves my best now – not just when the kids are grown.  My family is my top priority – today – plain and simple.

It’s my new favorite.

We have a new favorite dinner thanks to my friend Andrea.  Ever since she shared her recipe {and made it for us} I’ve been hooked.

It’s a hit and is simple enough to make during the crazy dinner hour.  You know – that hour when the baby is fussy and the other two kids want demand your attention.  Really.

Henry and Charlie can’t get enough {they even eat the tomatoes!}  Henry declared it his “favorite.”  Me too.  I crave it, which made it all the more devastating when Costco stopped carrying the sun-dried tomato chicken sausages for the season.  Thank goodness my mom spotted them at a local grocery store.  Needless to say our freezer is now well-stocked.  Crisis adverted.

While I realize this is a seasonal recipe {fresh tomatoes, mozzarella, basil} it is so good I feel obligated to share even as we enter into fall.

Rigatoni with chicken sausage, roasted tomatoes, fresh basil and mozzarella

• Box of rigatoni
• 4 sun-dried tomato chicken sausages
• Grape tomatoes, halved and roasted  {At least 1 pint, but the more the better.}
• 1/4 cup {or more} chopped fresh basil
• Fresh mozzarella {I like the small “pearl” sized fresh mozzarella – use at least one 16 oz. container.}
• 2 cloves smashed garlic
• 2 tablespoons olive oil

Cook the pasta according to the package directions.  Drain when done.  Halve tomatoes and drizzle them with olive oil, and kosher salt.  Put them on a baking sheet and roast in a 350 degree oven for about 25 minutes.  BBQ or cook sausages in a fry pan with some olive oil.  Slice and set aside.

Pause – put crying baby into baby bjorn carrier.  Proceed.

In a serving bowl add olive oil, garlic, and basil.  Add mozzarella, sausages and pasta to bowl and mix all ingredients together.  Serve right away or refrigerate and serve cold.

Fair warning – just when you think things couldn’t get any better, it’s also fabulous the next day as leftovers.  {Two dinners in one!}  There are a million variations – my aunt added pesto and it was delicious – so get creative!  See what you started Andrea?

{And no – I don’t have any pictures of the dish, you’ll have to use your imagination.  Things tend to get a bit hairy at our house right at dinnertime so the picture-taking came to a screeching halt.}

Grace

Its not that I’m lacking for things to write about.  However, a lack of time, a dead computer battery and the fact that things are a bit hazy in my mind due to a lack of sleep have all kept me from putting my words on paper.  Or online.  You get the point.

The topic of my bible study last week was on grace and the subject has dominated my thoughts this week.  And to be honest, I struggled with the concept.  Not in a “I’m not worthy” sort of way, but instead “why can’t I seem to wrap my brain around this concept?”

Today the word grace has almost become cliche.  We use it as a casual adjective.  We say ‘grace’ before meals.  And it has become a popular girls name {one of my favorites.}

But what does grace really mean?

I struggled through my studies last week.  I read and re-read the scriptures and the questions seemed impossible to answer.

“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”  2 Corinthians 12:9

Weakness.  That word leaped out at me.  Not only am I supposed to embrace my weaknesses, but I’m to delight in them?  Why?  They bring me closer to Him?  When I am weak, He is strong?  Really?

I’ll be honest.  That just didn’t seem right.  Seems like a bit of a power play on God’s part and all.  And to top it off, I don’t like to think of myself as a weak person.  But when I read the same scripture in The Message it started to become clearer.  “I was given the gift of a handicap to keep me in constant touch with my limitations…My grace is enough; it’s all you need.  My strength comes into its own in your weakness.”

Here’s the thing.  When Charlie was born I went into a ‘just do it’ mode.  Not that I resembled anything close to a superhero, as I was really in survival mode.  I went to appointments galore, kept house, played the role of wife and mother, went to meetings and hosted parties.  I was trying to go on “life as normal” when life was anything but.  I tried to make sense out of Charlie’s diagnosis, working through various stages of grief.  Panic ruled.  “This can’t be happening to me!“  Then the “whys” started – why me, why him, why us?  And then fear reared its ugly head.  “This isn’t fair!” I would shout to the Lord.  He didn’t reply if it was, or if it wasn’t fair.  Instead, I was to trust His plan for me.

The funniest thing happened.  I started to notice the Lord working in my life.  Sure, He had always been there, but now I could truly sense His presence and work in me.  I was filled with a sense of peace, love and understanding that I couldn’t explain without sounding foolish.  It didn’t make any sense.  His grace poured over me.  His love and peace enveloped me.  It wasn’t of this world.

I have long struggled with a comment that has been repeated to me many times by various people.  That in not so many words, the birth of my son Charlie – and his having Down syndrome – is my cross in life to bear.  I detest that comment.  In no way do I believe that my child was or is a burden to me.  He is not my “cross.”  Yet, all of this talk about grace made me wonder if deep down I actually believed it.  Had I inadvertently used Charlie as my handicap or weakness?  Did God put Charlie in my life to bring me closer to Him?

I’m not going to dig any deeper here {I already feel as though I’m barely treading spiritual/theological water.}   But I realized that no – Charlie wasn’t my weakness – I had long carried those sins with me before he was born.  It was me.  My son just revealed them.  My limitations were all of the sudden on display for the world to see.  My fear.  My pride.  My attitudes and behaviors.  My control over my life was gone.  All the ugly sins I had embraced and held close had been revealed.  I was totally exposed.  Yet because of His grace, exposing my weaknesses actually gave me strength that I didn’t know existed.

And now with new eyes I see His grace pouring down in all parts of my life – big and small.  It is only by the grace of God that we have adjusted so smoothly to a new baby in the house.  This major life transition should by all means include plenty of chaos, tears, impatience, and sibling jealousy.  It hasn’t.  Despite only getting a maximum of three hours of sleep in a row {on a good night}, I’ve remained emotionally stable {for the most part…} and remarkably calm.  Some may argue that the peace that has surrounded our family during this time is the result of many outside forces – a Nana who has stepped in and helped immensely, my willingness to actually nap when the baby sleeps {why did it take me three kids to finally do this?} and a husband who has helped to keep things running smoothly around the house.  No doubt each has played a role.  But I would also argue that He has played a major role too.  That He has been at work in our family, gracing us with peace.  We did nothing to earn this grace.  Yet, it has renewed my heart yet again for Him.

I’ll admit, I’m still a bit fuzzy on the subject of grace.  But I’ve learned enough to know that trying to control all aspects of life is exhausting – and impossible.  And I’ve been reminded yet again, that it isn’t about me.  That I’m going to have to continually set aside my pride in order to receive His grace.  And it’s raining down all around us.  All the time.  Grace, through Him.  Will you accept it?

Awake

William is finally starting to wake from his four-week slumber.  Sort of.

While I have yet to resort to taking photos of him at night – his favorite and almost only time awake during his first four weeks – with a bit of patience and perseverance we have finally entered into the fifth week.  And yes, that means some awake time.  Brief.  Yet, definitely worth catching.  Especially during the day.  {Not that he isn’t cute during the night, but I do prefer to sleep then…}

We gaze lovingly into each others eyes.

We {OK, I} make funny faces seeking out that first smile.

He wonders what the heck I’m doing.

He coos affectionately while giving us his best model pose.

And we all laugh and cheer, while getting to know our dear little one.

{His favorite pose, which reminds me so much of Henry as a baby.}

{But despite all of our active awake time, he continues to be photo-ready around 2:00 a.m. as well.}