birth plans, discipline, sleep deprivation, another gift,

and a partridge in a pear tree.

1. I don't have a written birth plan. Like Julie, they feel a little silly to me, because if I have learned anything in the past few years, it's how little of life we get to plan. Parties and field trips, that's about it. Everything else is outside of our control. Even so, I have learned a few things from the previous experience, and I know a little more about what I do and don't want this time around. I DO want to sleep at night, if at all humanly possible (isn't it ironic that in an institution created specifically for healing, it's almost impossible to get any sleep?). I DON'T want to bring home an exhausted and confused toddler, matched by his exhausted and overwhelmed parents, so I'm going to do my best not to be a baby and to let Brian and Asher have a normal night time routine at home while I'm in the hospital. I also DON'T want any more pain medication than I absolutely have to have. I'm a lightweight, my doctor says, and pain medicine messes with my head (so does anesthesia, but with a cesarean, that's unavoidable). I'd almost rather deal with the pain than deal with the side effects. That's it. That's all the plan I have.

2. Brian and I were up in the middle of the night talking last night, and it was so much fun. We were waiting out Asher, who is in the midst of a sleep THING that is potentially miserable for us all, and it wasn't fun trying to decide when to let him cry and when to go to him. But after he fell asleep we stayed awake for another hour, talking about nothing of any consequence. It's the kind of thing you do all the time when you're dating, and then never again once you get married. And in this season of our lives, when time to just hang out is rare, it was a gift to us both to have the time together.

3. Anyone been reading Arwen's posts lately on discipline? I think about her point all the time, how teaching and discipline only belong in the context of love. If I didn't love Asher so much, I couldn't possibly have the authority to discipline him. And when the goal of parenting is to build a relationship, not to control another person, the "how's" begin to answer themselves. I HATE spanking him, so I don't do it unless I earnestly believe that is what is best for him in that moment. In my opinion, this is a good argument against corporal punishment in education. Children have to learn to follow rules and to function in society, but who teaches them, and how, is profoundly important for their future. Also, I think of my role at this stage as one of a teacher more than an enforcer. With a few exceptions, he's mostly learning what the rules are. He's also learning to read (and to believe) me, just as I'm learning to read him.

4. For those who keep up with such things, Asher had his 18-month check-up today. He got the DPT and Hepatitis shots, and it was the first time he's understood what was going on, and it made us both very sad. "Bites!" he said when they injected him. Sad. He's in the 90th percentile for height, 75th for weight, and 95th for head circumference. My boy is almost 3 feet tall at 18 months old. Geez. Anyway, he's a perfectly healthy, developing kid, which is the part that matters.

5. T-21 days. I had an appointment yesterday, and a few things are happening that would suggest labor is imminent, but it's like my doctor says: all that really tells us is that I'm going to have a baby. There is not any way to know when. So I'm doing my best to function as though I'm having a baby in three weeks, so that I don't sit perched, waiting for labor, until I drive myself and everyone around me crazy. Besides, I still have a few loose ends to tie up around the house, and Brian is out of town tonight, so today is really not convenient for me. And Friday we're going to the lake, and next week Mikkee will be in town ... so July 8 is as good a time as any, I guess.

How has your week been?

We have a neighbor with a little boy almost exactly Asher's age. I'm really excited about this, both because I like our neighbor and because the older Asher gets, the more having a friend around the corner will mean to him (and me). Yesterday was the first time the boys played together, and all went well. His mom was asking what I enjoy doing besides having, teaching, or raising babies, and I was embarrassed by how many of my sentences began with, "Well, I used to ..." and "I did ..." The truth is that in this moment, 35 weeks pregnant, and 18 months into motherhood, I don't do much that doesn't involve a baby.

Then this morning I read a poem that I love and haven't heard in a while. I saw a picture that reminded me of springtime and longing. And in a rare quiet hour on a Saturday morning, I remembered how it feels to be stirred by beauty. I'm still that person, too. My mind is consumed by the tyranny of the urgent, but this is only for a season. I will think and read and do all of the things I used to love again. It felt good to remember that, that I am a whole person, not just someone's mom.

I have chosen to stay at home because I am a terrible multi-tasker. Whatever I am doing in the moment is what consumes me. It's a blessing - I don't have many regrets, and I'm not one to hold a grudge because of it - but it also means that I forget how temporary every season is, how quickly we move forward and do new things. I won't always have babies, nor will I always be consumed by them. My hope is that I will enjoy this moment completely, so that when it is over, I will not spend the future wishing I could go back. I want to do the very best in this season that I can, and when I have boys, not babies, I want to enjoy that season, too. And when I come back to the season where every Saturday morning is quiet, I want to sit on a porch and read poetry or hike and be who I am, apart from my children, once again.

Thanks be to God, for seasons and for beauty in them all.

chasing taylor

This moment - coupled with the fact that a. I knew where the video camera was, b. the batteries were charged, and c., I had a blank tape already loaded - is a gift. One in a thousand.

We painted the nursery (I use the word "we" very liberally. I painted for about an hour, and Brian painted the rest. Yes, BRIAN, who likes to paint as much as he likes hanging upside down by his toenails, VOLUNTARILY painted a room. Only because he loves me) and got a bed (the exact same bed I was about to order online was on Craigslist, with a mattress, for about 30% of retail value. Yay.) this weekend. And today, for the first time, I remembered - I'm going to have a BABY. Not a medical procedure, not a problem, a whole other human life. I had forgotten. I had been so busy being pregnant I forgot that pregnancy ENDS, and when it's over, you have a baby. That's the best news I've heard in a long time.

A BABY, ya'll.

on growth

I love to watch things grow. It's a fundamental part of who I am. It's why I love to be outside, why I love the springtime. It's probably why I am well-suited for motherhood, though I didn't realize that until a few days ago. And it's why I love to teach.

I have been teaching J for nearly two years. Normally, in early intervention as in classroom teaching, you spend months with a child, not years. This has been a new - and very rewarding - experience. I've had to learn a lot in order to keep up with what he needed at the time. And I've also had to learn to adjust when he was ready for something new. In December, J was definitely ready to move forward. He had gotten very good at rote memorization, but because of his diagnosis, was not able to apply what he knew. The gap between therapy and real life was significant. So I asked his mom to let me try something new. This was intimidating mostly because I was moving completely away from the protocol I'd been hired to follow (ABA therapy), and I knew his other therapists would not agree with me. But J needed to spend some time in the real world. He needed to learn conversations, not just vocabulary, and he needed to learn to notice what was happening around him.

So we started going to the grocery store, fast food restaurants, malls, and people watching. "What do you see?" I would ask him. Silence. So I would answer, "I see a man in a blue shirt. What does he have?" Silence. Me again: "He's buying milk." This is how I spent six hours every week. For months, it was mostly silence. What am I doing? I would think as I drove home. I am wasting their money and my time. But I wasn't ready to give up yet.

Two weeks ago, we were at the park. "What do you see?" I asked J. Silence. "I see a little boy. He's sad. It's time for him to go home." A minute later, J said, "She's crying too. She needs to go home." Then, from him, "She's a girl. J's a boy. I'm a boy." The light came on. There's still work to do (always work to do), but J can have a conversation with his mom. He can answer a question and will sometimes even ask one. He can comment on what he sees, and what he sees is other children. Golf courses, red lights, swing sets - he sees a world now, or a little more of it, anyway.

And I couldn't be more proud of him. I love to watch things grow.

This morning I was sitting on the kitchen floor with Asher in my lap.  We were - I don't know what we were doing, but we were sitting there, facing the stove, talking about whatever, when a look of dawning recognition came over Asher's face.  He stood up, pointed at his reflection in the stove, and said, "ME!"

And that moment, friends?  Was a gift.

on choice

I've been thinking today about the concept of choice.  Asher, budding toddler that he is, is much more likely to follow directions if he's given a choice, rather than a command (though the choice is often something like, "You may walk away or you may go to your bed," it's still up to him what he does).  I'm the same way.  If I feel like I'm choosing to do something, rather than being told to do it, I am much more likely to do it willingly.  

As a parent and as a Christian, I start to think of this as stubbornness.  But I think it's the part of human nature that most glorifies God.  Implicit in love is choice.  If love has been demanded, it's not love.  It's servitude, maybe, but not love.  And the fact that God has created us with the ability to choose is astounding.  I could choose to walk away from God just as I chose to follow him.  But I don't.  I can choose my attitude, I can choose my actions.  I can choose my responses.  All of these are within my control.  And it is in the choosing - to trust God, to believe Scripture, to serve others - that God is glorified.  

Thanks be to God for choice.

(As an aside, I will be your best friend if no reformed theologian brings up sovereignty or predestination.  I already know that this post is looking at one side of an incredibly complex coin, and I really do not think debating the issue will be fruitful to any of us.  None of this is to take away from the sovereignty of God.  But we can't deny our ability to choose, either.  Please let's just leave it at that for today.)

5. Saturday mornings.

I thrive on routine (this surprises exactly no one, I am sure). Our Saturday morning routine is my favorite of the week. Pooh and Tigger while Brian and I get dressed, then breakfast out at a local restaurant, where Brian orders pancakes, and Asher eats for free. And no one is in a hurry.

Thanks be to God.

in which I dote unapologetically (and #4)

Have I mentioned before how much I love watching Asher learn to talk? It's my first chance to know what's going on in his little mind. His language has exploded in the past six weeks, going from about 5 words and about 10 signs at 14 months to easily 50 words (and a few new original signs) at 16 months. He's also on the cusp of putting two words together in phrases, but already he has made several associations, and groups words together on his own. And through this little stream of consciousness I am beginning to see the grid through which Asher understands his world.

As his language grows, his personality (and sense of independence) is becoming more apparent as well. Asher, so far, is a little observer. He enjoys being out, and will move away from me willingly to explore and play. He is fearless about trying new activities (especially on a playground), but is a little less brazen when approaching crowds or new people. Today he was squealing "balloon!" in the grocery store until he realized the woman behind us was smiling at his enthusiasm, at which point he stopped talking, stared at the woman, and pointed solemnly to the balloon. And, without fail, when we get in the car, he tells me about his day.

"Mikkee," he'll say from the back seat. "Airplane. Sky. Reach! Stretch! Slide." He's remembering watching the airplanes in Mikkee's yard, and stretching as far as he could, trying to touch them. He also remembers playing on the slide on the playground, which he did numerous times during our visit.

"Store. Balloon. Ride. Go." This is the grocery store cluster.

"Dad. Guitar. Dance. Truck," for his dad.

"Hat. Big Daddy. Marmee. Boat. Jack." That's my parents.

"Papa. Grandma. Flag. Gracie." Brian's parents.

"Outside. Truck. Grass. Ride. Wagon." The front yard.

"Keys. Bye-bye. Car. Steps. Scoot." For getting ready to leave the house.

It goes on and on. He can "read" books this way, quoting clusters of words for familiar books. I love it. I love watching him grow, I love hearing what he remembers, I love seeing him piece his life together into words. And I love that he wants to share all of it with us. I don't know how many times a day I stop and listen and wonder. Hearing my baby talk, and knowing he wants to talk to me, is a gift.

#3

3. Brian's attitude towards me and our home life.

The longer I am married, a. the more I realize how young/naive/immature I was on my wedding day, and b. the more I realize how well I married. Marrying well at 22 is nothing but the grace of God. I had no idea what I needed, really, in a spouse. I knew that I was in love, but there was no voice from Heaven, just peace that I knew to be supernatural. Even so, I really had no idea what I was doing. I had no clue how well suited we were for one another, how well we would work as a team. And I did not yet realize how much of a gift his acceptance of who I am would be.

Here's what I mean - Brian does not ever say, imply, hint, or cut his eyes in such a way that means, "I wish you would (fill in the blank)." All that Brian cares about in our home is that there is something that resembles food (cocoa puffs count) that can be cooked (who does the cooking depends entirely on what we're eating) and that Asher and I are happy. That's it. He doesn't care if the floors are clean (they usually aren't), he doesn't care how much I weigh, he doesn't care how much - or little - money I make. He genuinely, sincerely just wants to see me enjoy my life, and if that is happening, he is satisfied.

Really, what else could you possibly want in a mate? I mean, seriously?

I've had several conversations recently with friends (particularly stay at home moms, though I'm not sure why) who spend a good amount of energy trying to please their husbands. By staying fit, by keeping the house clean, by having children, by not having more children, by nursing, by not nursing ... the list goes on. There are so many women spending chunks of their day trying to appease a man, and here I am, playing in the park. Reading a book. Visiting friends. Doing the hokey-pokey at the library with twenty toddlers. Taking the jobs I want, and turning down others, despite their financial benefit. Talking on the phone during nap time, when I could be picking up. I have absolutely no pressure to be or do things a certain way from Brian. This is a tremendous gift, especially for me, because I put enough pressure on myself for the both of us. As we were walking this afternoon, I was commenting how a friend (who is also pregnant - have I mentioned that most of my in-town friends are pregnant?) already has the new baby's clothes washed and in the drawer, and I don't even have the dresser in the room yet. "Her house is spotless, her child is potty-trained before 2, she works out every day, AND her nursery is ready. I just don't have that kind of energy. I wish I could be more like her," I said. "I don't," said Brian. "I like you."

Thanks be to God and Brian for this indescribable gift.

picking back up with A Thousand Gifts

2. my house.

Valerie wrote about wanderlust versus buying a home, and the conflicting desires for both. I have talked so much here about the same thing that I'd feel like I was beating a dead horse to dredge it all up again, but - yes. I know what you're saying. I would add that there is a season for everything, and for this season, our house is a gift.

I have a friend who is 34 weeks pregnant with her first child and living in an apartment. Their lease runs out May 31 (she's due June 9) , and they have to move closer to her husband's job for financial reasons, and they can't move into their new apartment until May 15. Did I mention how very pregnant she is? Every time we see her, she's on the verge of the hysterical laugh-cry women use when they are trying to make light of something serious. My heart goes out to her. Her bassinet is in a box, her shower gifts are still in their bags, and that baby is closer to being here every day. I would be hysterical too.

I love our house. It is the perfect layout for roaming babies; you can make a loop without ever having to turn around, and I can shut off every room that is not baby proof. It is exactly as much space as we need, and it is has a good yard.

And I love our neighborhood. Yesterday we walked down to the park, as has become our habit after Sunday naps, and were surprised to find fifty of our neighbors already there. Every Sunday in the spring they have a free concert in that park; we had forgotten all about it. Our neighborhood is largely academic types and old hippies, or young families with children. Kids were on the playground while old men sat in folding chairs drinking wine and eating pita and hummus (seriously). But most importantly, everyone was talking to one another. People knew each other, and those that didn't talked anyway. It was a great way to spend Sunday afternoon.

One last thing about our house that I love is the mortgage. Because we chose the cool-adjacent neighborhood, we have the luxury of both paying a mortgage and going to the grocery store every single month on one income. It is in line with our financial priorities right now, which are mostly to function on cash and raise our children, though sometimes that seems like a pretty lofty goal. For all of these things I am thankful. I love our little house.

sprinklers and observations

Please scroll down to skim the previous post, or the first part of this won't make sense.

1. Picking out a sprinkler with Asher.

We went to Target today and made a quasi-impulse buy. Those of you who know me well know how frugal I am, so to decide at 1:00 to buy a toy and drive home with it by 3:00 is impulsive by my standards. But our air is out (we'll get to that in a minute) and we're on day 2 of 85* weather which means, friends, I hope you enjoyed the spring because it's over. Now we'll just get gradually hotter like frogs in a pot until we all jump out or boil alive, whichever comes first. With that in mind, today seemed like a good day for a sprinkler. And it really was. We picked out a twirling penguin on a surfboard; Asher enjoyed it until he tried to catch the spray and got repeatedly squirted in the face, at which point the water hose became a better toy. The boy has no fear whatsoever of water (his mother would be a little more comfortable if he was slightly more intimidated by it, because since bringing him home from the hospital bathtubs and baby pools look more like death traps than fun to me). But sprinklers feel safer (whether they are or not), and he loved playing in the water. And I loved watching him play.

On a different note, I've been writing observations in my head all day. Want to hear them?

Observation #1: Until a few years ago, I had always worked with babies and toddlers, not preschoolers. This doesn't sound like a big difference, and I guess it's not in most ways, but there is one aspect of teaching 3-5 year-olds for which I was not prepared: a large part of every day is spent discussing poo. I teach J on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, and no matter what plans or objectives I have for our day, at least an hour will be devoted to if, when, how, or why we go poo-poo on the potty. After our 23rd unsuccessful trip to the public bathroom in the park with J announcing, "No poo-poo on the potty!", I was beginning to question my life. I felt better when I saw two little boys standing side-by-side, pants at their knees, peeing into the sand box while their mothers watched and laughed. And in the moment, I understood exactly why the moms were laughing - at least they didn't have to change wet clothes. Nobody has a handle on this potty-training thing.

Observation #2: Our air is out. I'm not sure I can pray for my air conditioner with a clear conscience, so I am seriously hoping the whole thing needs to be replaced. It is under warranty until September, and this is the second time (since September - and how often do you use the AC in the winter, even in Alabama?) that it has broken down. Please oh please just die, so we can get a new unit for practically nothing. Please please PLEASE don't wait until next October to die. Amen. Also, I have been thinking about pregnant women in desert climates who must be completely covered to leave their homes. I'm dying in 85* in a t-shirt and ponytail. Do you know how HOT those women must be?

Observation #3: I have picked out a bed for Silas. Do you know that, aside from a travel swing purchased a few weeks after Asher's birth, this will be my first purchase of new baby equipment ever? I have found most things on consignment or yard sales, I borrowed an infant carrier, Asher's bed is a hand-me-down, and our kids have three sets of grandparents. Aside from the occasional outfit (or impulsive sprinkler), we haven't bought much from a store for either of our kids. I guess that should be #2 on my Thousand Gifts list.

Observation #4: I was talking to J's mom today about how anxious I have been about this birth, and she brought some much-needed clarity to my thoughts. She said, "It's because you know how much he means to you now. With your first child, you have no idea how much you are going to love them. Now you know." Yes. Yes I do, and that's why I am so much more afraid. Thank you.

Observation #5: Jon & Kate Plus Eight comes on back-to-back episodes in the middle of the night on TLC. I watch it but I am not impressed. Kate is not a happy woman, or, at least, she does not present herself as such during the taping of the show. I know mothers of large families, and I know how busy they are. But she just doesn't seem to enjoy her life very much. That's my opinion, for what it's worth.

Observation #6: I was shopping today for a baby gift, looking through all of the tiny pink sun dresses, and I had a moment where I actually felt a little sorry for mothers of girls, who have to contend with so much PINK in the world. I kept looking over at the adjacent rack and thinking about how boy clothes are cuter because there are so many colors to choose from. This, from the woman who was so convinced she was having a girl that we didn't even consider boy names until the morning we were driving to the ultrasound. Not once, not at all. We've come a long way, baby.

Happy Tuesday, everyone.

a thousand gifts

Missy is listing a thousand gifts. The idea came from a blog I have not read before called Holy Experience. Here's a quote from her post on what happened when she began noting the daily moments and seeing them as gifts from God:

I am seeing things I have never seen before, atuned and aware of this constant, endless stream of gifts from His hand. I am one waking from slumber....from the stupor of indifference and ignorance. I have sight, fresh and keen---the world is new and full of His gifts.

Too often I miss Him, oblivious, blind. I don't see all the good things that He is giving me, gracing me with, brushing my life with. True, He is everywhere, always. But maybe, before The Gift List, I thought of Him as further off, not so close. When I started to see all the things that I love bestowed upon me, I started to see Him as near, present, everywhere, showering me with good things. Seeing the things I love all around me gives me eyes to see that I am loved, that He loves me.

It is happening to me as John Milton wrote: "Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday epiphanies, those transcendent moments of awe that change forever how we experience life and the world."

Everyday epiphanies everywhere, indeed: gifts....Grace.

The truth is that I love my life, and I am grateful for it. But in the moment, I can forget just what a gift it is, how badly I wanted and how I waited for this season. So, a list of a thousand gifts seems like a good idea. Care to join me?