Etsy Giveaway

I've been meaning to share that I've opened an Etsy shop. I feel a little weird drawing attention to myself (I am truly an introvert), but just pretend you don't notice my embarrassment. I figure if I give something away while mentioning it, it's not as bad, right?

So, the back story. I love to create things, whatever the medium. Both of my parents and all of my siblings have a creative bent as well, so I come by this honestly. I get my feet wet in some new hobby, and then it just consumes me for a while until I come up for air.

I suspect my shop will evolve, showing whatever my passion is at that given moment. I've really been enjoying my sewing machine, mainly because I can see a finished project a little faster than with my knitting needles. After all, there appears to be something -- or, rather, someone -- keeping me occupied as of late.

I've had friends of friends send requests for handknit items, specifically for little boys, as they say cute boy clothing is hard to come by. I'm still working on designing a cute little boy's vest, but perhaps some will appear before too long.

Right now I am focusing on items for children - no big surprise, since I have the cutest model on hand. This ranges from baby pants ideal for children who are cloth-diapered to wool diaper covers and diaper wipes.

And I love to make handmade cards, so I've listed a variety of those.  Some are suitable for a baby shower or to welcome the arrival of a new baby.

And some are blank and are for any occasion.

I also have a few list takers for sale; these are quilted pieces that hold a small legal pad, pen, and an extra pocket for any other receipts/papers/cards/lists you need to keep.

In honor of the new shop, I wanted to do a giveaway here for one of my list takers.  (In the interest of full disclosure, there's a minor imperfection on this one; I was worried the elastic closure was going to pull free, so I reinforced it with thread on the outside, but I still love the thing -- it's my favorite -- so I trust one of you will as well.)  If you prefer one in my shop to the one below and I pick your name, you'll have the option to substitute.

All you need to do to enter is take a look at my shop and either tell me your favorite item or an item you think I should carry. In addition to the boy vest mentioned above, I've toyed with offering stitch markers, knitting bags, zippered pouches, leggings, bibs and the like. Any of these tempt you? What am I overlooking?

I'll draw the winner from the comments on September 10th and then contact them for their address. Also, when you comment, make sure there's a way for me to reach you (via your blog, Ravelry, Etsy shop, email address, etc.). If you don't leave a way for me to get in touch with you, I'll post the winner's name here and wait 48 hours for them to contact me. If they don't, I'll pick a new winner.

And should you be so inclined to want to make a purchase from my shop, through September 30th I am offering a 10-percent-off discount code in honor of my and my daughter's September birthdays. Just enter the code birthday10 at checkout and the discounted price will be calculated.

Why I Write in This Medium

When I started this blog, it was an outlet for teaching anecdotes. Then I moved and was no longer teaching, but I certainly had more time to knit, so I began to catalog some of those achievements. Then I got pregnant and shared some of that experience for friends and family that lived at a distance. And after losing Katherine, I processed some of my grief through these public writings.

I realize some may not understand why I felt the need to share some of those raw feelings in such a public forum. I'm not sure if I can completely explain that need either. I surely have many journal entries that never saw the light of day here because I thought they were too personal. But there's a feeling of anonymity here, this space online that, unless someone leaves a comment or references my posts in conversation, I can pretend it's this private space all my own. No one is forced to read, and for all I know, few do. I may be absent from this space for weeks, but it just draws me back when I have a spare moment. Here's a limited glimpse of my life. And I couldn't imagine writing about teaching and knitting without focusing on experiences that meant so much more to me than those insignificant bits. So I shared. And I hoped that maybe it would make a difference. I hoped it would help in my healing. That maybe if I could put words to the experience, I would remember the time better, even if it meant recognizing how deeply we'd been wounded, how far we had to come from.

While not the first time some stranger has written me about sharing my story, someone contacted me on Ravelry this week, a knitter that had the misfortune of losing their premature daughter this spring due to pre-eclampsia and HELLP Syndrome (misfortune sounds like the worst word ever, so forgive me for not being able to select a better one). She said my words brought her comfort. She's very early in this period of grief, but it helped her to know that others had gone through the same diagnosis and yet followed that up with a healthy, typical pregnancy and a full-term baby. It gave her hope that there will still be a chance for them.

It's when I get a comment from someone who has been helped by my words that I feel like I have made a difference. In whatever small part, Katherine continues to influence people.

So, Katherine, had you lived, you would have turned 3 last Sunday. I would have loved to know what it was like to be a mother to you on this earth for more than a week, but I take comfort in knowing that you made an impact on my life, and because I was willing to share, even in the midst of the pain and hurt, I have helped others. People that have lost their own children. People that need to know one experience doesn't dictate their future and remove all chances for another child.

Today marks the day three years ago that we had to say goodbye. And it's hard to know best how to recognize this day. I wish it wasn't on our radar, but I am grateful for the ways your short life shaped mine. And I'm still working at it, trying to not keep my guard up, to not assume the worst. To let people in. To be vulnerable. So today, I'll live like I try to each and every other day. I'll draw alongside my husband who has walked beside me as we went through this dark journey. I'll hug and kiss and play with your little sister, think of the blessings you brought us, and pray for our continued healing and those who might be a little earlier on this journey. We have scars, but they're a little less raw today, and we're trying not to let them get the best of us. It wouldn't be fair to you and your memory if we were embittered, despondent people today because we were only fortunate to have six days with you. And by God's grace, I can say that we are not.

It seemed somehow fitting that this was the week someone wrote about the impact my story had on them. We're still seeing how we've been influenced by your life. And I can remember the early months of your loss, how we shut down and somehow made it from day to day. All the tears. The daily meals friends brought by. Returning to work. Physically healing first, then slowly the emotional and mental healing followed. The setbacks as we tried again, and the fear that accompanied the thought of a new pregnancy. Holding our breath as one more week passed without complications. And somehow our story was able to touch others and help them in their own grief and uncertainty. So however infrequently, I'm encouraged to keep returning to this space.

A Letter to My Daughter: 11 Months

Daughter,

11 months!

I can hardly believe that it has been 11 months that you have been bringing joy to our lives! I suppose when you start out the first few months not sleeping more than a couple hours in a stretch, it's hard to properly catalog the changing days, but here we are.

This month, like many others, has brought about many changes. You spend a lot of your time crawling all around, and you're getting more confident pulling yourself up on things.

You also do this thing where you use your feet to spin yourself around in circles; Charity got a video of it during her time here.

Two of your aunts, and three of your cousins, stayed here few a few days this past month. You enjoyed the attention.

You spent a lot of time watching them playing, but before you know it, you'll be joining right in.

The cats are still a little wary of you, rightly so. The term "gentle" means little to nothing. At one point, you even grabbed Dante's face with both of your hands, squeezing away. He didn't retaliate, but he did beat a hasty retreat once I pried open your hands.

Speaking of that iron grip, my arms, face, and neck all bear evidence of little claw marks. You've even drawn blood on some occasions. Your dad took a series of pictures, and this is one of the only salvageable ones; the others have me trying to free my hair and skin from your grasp.

You continue to draw attention wherever you go. Even though you crawl, I brought you along when I was going to help paint the youth room. I set you down with toys, and then kept an eagle eye on you as I painted. You spent the first half of the time just watching all the activity around you, and the rest of the time happily holding various toys as you switched between playing and people-watching. Several volunteers commented you were amazing; they admitted their own children would have been in the paint or would have been off exploring from the get-go.

"I'm fond of some of the knit toys my mommy made me"

We went out to brunch one morning, and while we were waiting to be seated, you took a fancy to one of the other parties waiting to be seated. In particular, you were fixated on the guy from Central or South America. He, in turn, was quite taken with you. After a few minutes of this behavior, he finally asked if he could hold you (while an unusual request from a stranger, we let him ever so briefly). He was later seated in your line of vision, and this picture below is of you, still drawn to him from a distance of 15 feet.

When out for another meal, our server was even possessed to drop a kiss on your head before the end of the meal; it's hard to resist a baby being so adorable and well-behaved! There was even one occasion a few months back, when we were in Illinois to meet up with your paternal grandparents, that an older woman in a hotel lobby asked to take a picture of you. These requests catch me off guard, but I acquiesced in this case; I don't know why she wanted a picture of you, but I doubted we'd ever cross paths again and if it brought her some measure of happiness, I was fine indulging.

"I pulled these from the diaper bag while Mom watched. And I even got the container open!"

Your eating habits have improved. You eat three meals a day. While you'd be more than delighted if you could subsist on sweet potatoes and cheerios alone, you are still willing to expand your horizons. Other than some puffs and dry cereal that you happily feed yourself, you're still on pureed foods that we feed you (you still haven't mastered chewing, even with five teeth). And whenever you'd grab for the spoon, it was only to finger-paint with the contents. Today, though, there was a breakthrough - you used a spoon to eat the last half of your lunch! We weren't able to recreate this at dinnertime, but I suspect you were too distracted feeding yourself black beans to be bothered with taking over the pureed feeding as well.

Sleep has been wonderful. Bedtime is 7:45 PM, and you typically wake up around 7 AM (sometimes with one wake-up in the middle of the night). You take two naps a day, averaging about 75 minutes each. And you're pretty adept at putting yourself down. I'm so glad you're a sound sleeper. Our new neighbor has a small yappy dog that seems to be let out all hours of the day or night, and there's also a motorcycle revving up as it comes and goes. Seeing as that driveway is right outside your nursery, it's important you can sleep through the noise. Otherwise, we'd be up a dozen times or more trying to lull you back down (it's bad enough that these things wake me up, but I can drift off again).

You love to curl up in a little ball in the crib. You wander all over, from the top corners to the bottom ones out of sight, but the one consistent feature is you on your stomach and near one of the edges, balled up tight.

You have a shoe fetish. You crawl to the door and rearrange all the shoes behind you. You sometimes even collect them in your basket.

You are very inquisitive. If you aren't emptying your diaper bag, trying to see if you can reach the cat fountain before we catch you, or - our least favorite - curious about outlets (quickly secured with safety plugs), you're trying to see what we're doing to figure out how you can get involved. Here I gave you a ball of yarn, and you were so happy with it! This is scary for mommy to see, since that means I have to guard not only against the cats, but against you as well. My yarn is no longer safe...

In line with your curiosity, you love bubbles. You and Dante try to see who can pop the most. However, it's only a matter of time before you're distracted by the bottle of suds, trying to crawl over me to get your hands on it. That's the signal bubble time is over.

 Until you get distracted, though, it's a lot of fun to watch your eyes go wide and your hands flail as bubbles surround you.

While we were late to make the transition, you now take your baths in the tub. We'd been slow to end the sink time since our bathroom is cramped, but we took the doors off the tub, which means it's now much easier to get you in and out and allows us to be easily in reach of you, no matter where you scoot to.

"I can twist my tongue sideways - not even Daddy can do that!"

Anyway,  it's been a full month (and I'm glad my sisters shared their pictures with me!).  You are growing by leaps and bounds, and your personality is emerging even more. I suspect you'll be on your feet even more in the coming month, but, um, feel free to leave the cat fountain alone. Trust me, baths and pools are way more fun to splash around in.

Love,
Mommy

Letter: 30 Things in Honor of Turning 30

 Eric,

You don't turn thirty every day, so in honor of your 30th birthday, I thought I would let you know of 30 things I love about you. Some are serious, some are flippant, but all are aspects that make you who you are and make me lucky to be with you. So enjoy (but don't get all big-headed on me). No one else may be interested, but I wanted to share with the world how blessed I am to be with you.

1. You are well-rounded. Here you are, a graduate student in a very intellectual field, and yet you can geek out on your online forums or play video games. I'm glad you're not all one or the other.
2. You weren't afraid to leave your career to pursue your passion. I know it was hard to allow yourself to pursue further education when you had a steady, good-paying job, especially with a wife and with the potential for family in the not-too-distant future, but it wasn't what excited you, and I love that you knew that about yourself and pushed onward. I suspect you're more fun to live with because of it, even if you're the one leaving stacks of books around and the one with evening and weekend commitments.
3. You and I are a team. Be it marriage or parenthood, we're in this together as equals.
4. You aren't afraid to step in when I'm being irrational. Recently, I've learned I need you to temper me. For some reason, ingrained deep (likely due to our culture), is the duty I feel to handle most things baby-related. But you'll sometimes realize you need to step in and take over in the evenings, especially if the only reason I can give is that I "ought" to be the one to do X.
5. You value my time. Now that I'm not the one with work that follows me home, I feel like whenever B is awake and we're both around, I should be the one to tend to her, even if you're just relaxing by reading or playing games (see #4). But I love that you'll sometimes tell me to stay put -- or take over for a couple hours during a weeknight or weekend -- so that I can have a choice to do whatever I'd like. It's hard for me to see my time outside of work as important as yours, so I need you to remind me of this.
6. You change diapers. Before B was born, you'd never touched one, so I think you'll understand my surprise when you declared, "You take care of one end, I'll take care of the other." I thought you might falter on your commitment after a week or two, but now, with our daughter ten months old, you are still going strong. I only change a diaper when you’re not home or the rare occasion where you’re occupied (and those I can maybe count on one hand -- okay, maybe two).
7. You are an amazing father. I love watching the joy in your eyes as you interact with our daughter. She is lucky to have you in her life. You take such pride in her and I know you will be a constant encourager and positive presence.
8. You are not afraid to show your emotions. Losing Katherine was devastating for us, and we both shut down from the world for about a year, but I always knew the two of us could share what we were experiencing. I knew I wasn't the only one grieving and it meant a lot to know you didn't keep me at a distance.
9. You're not afraid of housework. Maybe it’s due to living on your own in college, but I love that you don’t blink an eye at unloading the dishwasher or doing the majority of the laundry. Even (*gasp*) the cloth diapers.
10. You entertain my hair-brained ideas. I was sure you might think I'd gone a little hippie with wanting to cloth diaper, compost, and make my own baby food, but you're right there alongside me.
    
11. You are humble. Here you are, on the home stretch of a PhD, having been a National Merit Scholar, acing your GRE (and I could go on…), yet you don’t even think to lord it over others. You are aware it comes easily to you, and yet you’re quick to realize others’ strengths, especially in areas where you don’t excel.
12. You are well read. I love that I might have heard something in passing on the radio, or come across a snippet of a story, and if I want to know more, my first stop is often asking you what you know about it.
13. You're a great companion during car trips. Perhaps it’s due to the lack of internet, TV, and other distractions, but we’ve had some great conversations during long car trips. I even like reading aloud to you (even if it does eliminate any knitting time!), which is a newer pastime.
14. You celebrate my accomplishments. I like to create things, be it with thread, yarn, or otherwise, and while you don’t have the same desire, you understand what it means to me. Heck, you’ll even humor my questions: “What color combination do you like best?" (although you hate that one), or "Of these two patterns, which is your favorite?”
15. You can still surprise me. Maybe it means I think too little of you, but I am still surprised you wear the socks I knit you (or, rather, knit for myself, but they ended up too large for my feet and were just perfect for yours). You’re such a creature of habit when it comes to things, and being that they weren’t made of cotton and sold by Hanes, I was sure they’d be unused. I was touched you wore them on wet, cold days after learning how well they kept you warm. I guess you must be knit-worthy, since it warranted a second pair. If only I could get up the courage to knit you a sweater…
16. We are still best friends. You're the first one I want to share news with or talk to about what's going on. I was a little nervous about this (one of the reasons it took me a while to come around to the idea of dating my best friend), but I needn't have been.
    
17. You make me laugh. I'm a tough crowd -- I might be amused at something and crack a smile, but audible laughs aren't a given. But I love that you can surprise me and make me laugh.
18. You think I'm funny. I love when you nearly hyperventilate after something I've said. Most recently, I remember you dying after I tried to connect the giving of raspberries as being founded in Scripture.
19. You still think I'm beautiful. No matter my weight or the number of my stretchmarks, you are constantly telling me you find me beautiful.
    
20. I love the one-liners we've accrued over the years, little phrases that make us laugh, things often privy to the two of us. "You know, now that you mention it, I had the windows open and I heard Beau on his phone saying something about a place in Indy..." or "I'm NEVER going to fall aslee..." and let's not forget about, "Gosh! How can we be out of glasses!"
    
21. You play dirty in an attempt to win our pretend arguments. All this serves to do is make me fuss that you're cheating by using logic or philosophical terms I'm not skilled in understanding.  And if you ever turn serious about "winning" with your philosophy prowess, that fake argument will escalate into me being royally annoyed. You have been warned.
    
22. You are quick to serve. You often are the first to ask if there's anything you can get for our guests, thinking of their needs. You'll ask what you can do for me if you're fetching something for yourself. And while I still cringe at allowing myself to be dependent on you, and I wonder if this instance of asking for a favor will be the time you say you aren't willing to help, you haven't let me down yet. This was *awesome* during my pregnancy when I would hit those tired spells.
    
23. You have a great relationship with your parents. You show your love and respect for them and what they've done for you. This is a great example for our daughter.
24. You have great parents. Now I realize this isn't something you had any control over, but they've shaped who you've become, and I am so blessed to have them as in-laws. I like spending time with them, and they've never made me feel like I wasn't good enough for you.
    
25. You keep up with the "invisible" chores. These are those things that you regularly do that don't often get noticed: filling the cars up with gas, taking out trash, doing laundry, taking compost and recycling out. These can get thankless quickly - somehow my closet is stocked with clean clothes (or at least the bed is), my car is regularly serviced, the trash can is never overflowing. And I don't always recognize that you're doing these tasks because you're so efficient.
    
26. You don't hold my faults against me. Like that time I took over driving to Iowa this summer, and after waking up from a nap, you asked me, "So, just out of curiosity, what's our gas situation like?" Only then did I realize the gas light was on, and I had no clue how long it had been lit. Fortunately, the situation turned out okay (although our nerves were tested when we ran into THREE gas stations in a row that were closed down), but you didn't berate me for not noticing the light. My spirits are pretty tender and are easily wounded by censure, so I appreciate that you're not quick to hold my weaknesses against me.
    
27. You are a great steward of our money. We are living on much less now than in Minnesota, but you are diligent about how we save and spend our money. I realize with me working less, things will be even tighter and we may be drawing down our savings, but because you have been faithful with our money, there is savings there to pull from.
28. You are somewhat willing to introduce your taste buds to new culinary items. When we first met, there were plenty of foods you'd never had given your limited preferences, and I realized when we married this could get tricky if I didn't want to live on bologna and Hamburger Helper. However, you eat more things now than you did then, and you'll still give something a try if I think there's a chance you might like it.
29. You're taller than I am. What can I say? You may not tower over me, but I love that I have to look up to you.
30. You are a godly husband. I love how you use your faith to shape what you do and how it influences every facet of your life.
    

Happy birthday. Thank you for wanting to live life with me.

Love,
Your wife

A Letter to My Daughter: Ten Months Old

Ten-month picture

Dear daughter,

You are now ten months.

In the last month, you enjoyed a trip home to see family. There's something about your grandma's house that makes you sleep spectacularly (and we love you for that). We had you sleep upstairs, and Grandma kept the monitor for us, so we slept soundly those days. I would stir sometime after you woke up for the day, once you started to be more vocal in your playing. Maybe when you're having trouble sleeping through the night, it's time to see her again?

You currently wear 12-month clothes, but you also have a fair number of outfits in 18-month (and larger...) sizes in regular rotation. Here's a picture of you in 24-month pajamas. They don't look as baggy as I'd wish.




The one exception is your lucky ISU sleeper.  This past football season, whenever you wore it the day of an ISU game, they won; there were a handful of games that when you wore it, they even won games they shouldn't have. Your uncle, who had given it to you, started texting on game days to make sure you were wearing it. One day you were napping when the game started (this was the Nebraska game). I put it on you when you woke up, and the Cyclones were able to tie up the game. However, we blame their OT loss to the fact that you didn't have it on for the entirety of the game; had you, they might have been able to get a win during regulation. ;)  Anyway, the sleeper is purportedly a 0-3 month size, but seeing as how it still fits you, it either possesses magical growing properties, or it was mislabeled.

At yesterday's appointment, you weighed 20 1/2 pounds and were 29 inches tall. Those were in the 60th percentile or so, but your head, at 18 inches, was the one at the upper end of the charts. This explains why it's suddenly tricky to get t-shirts over that noggin.

You have three teeth now; your first top one started coming in this past month.

Teething on watermelon - I'm not exactly sure what you thought of it

Developmentally, you've mastered a couple new tricks. The first is getting to a seating position on your own (since you were five months, you've been sitting on your own only if we started you in that position). Now, though, you're adept at scooting up to a seated position. The downside of this, however, is that in the early days, you would wake yourself up. It would have been funny if you didn't look quite so pathetic. You'd be sleeping on your tummy and in your sleep push up into a seated position. Doing so would wake you up and you'd start fussing because you were upset to be awake when you were so tired. Naps were shortened and we all slept horribly as you did this for a few days. I've heard it is common for sleep to be disturbed as you learn new skills, so I'm prepared for this same thing to happen as you master crawling and walking.

In the process of pushing yourself up

You still don't crawl, but we see you get to your knees (one leg is still at a weird angle, so until you get it behind you, you're not going anywhere). You can still scoot, but only in reverse, which brings back memories of the stories my parents told about me crawling only in reverse for the first week I was mobile, and how they were constantly having to retrieve me when I'd get stuck under furniture. You can also lunge for things, so between that and scooting, you're somewhat mobile. You LOVE pulling yourself up to a standing position by grabbing our fingers. Fortunately for us you haven't realized that you could substitute chairs and tables for our fingers. Go ahead and take your time figuring that out.

When it comes to feeding habits, there has been a huge transformation. You barely tolerated food before, only eating small portions, but now you're up to three feedings a day (not meals). Breakfast might consist of some rice cereal with a fruit puree, lunch right now is a baby food jar holding an infinitesimal portion of meat disguised with vegetables, and dinner is typically more vegetables. We give you Cheerios, but you treat them as toys (and as cat treats, which Augustine thanks you for). In the last week, though, I've caught you gumming on cheerios, and you actually put a rice wafer in your mouth without my help - I was lucky to catch it on camera. You don't "chew," which is why we're still in the puree stage, but since the interest is there, I can actually see an end in sight. Until then, though, it's been fun making and freezing baby food purees (excluding the "meat" jars). I'm just glad you're catching on; I was half wondering if I'd be packing up pureed food for you to take to college (okay, not seriously to this extreme, but I was concerned this food thing would be slow in taking off). We still need to work more on figuring out the sippy cup, but that should come in time.

Actual food going in the mouth!

You're still the consummate flirt. I cannot believe how much you open up to strangers, and they, in turn, to you.

Your flirty face captured on camera

You love "buzzing" your lips now. It makes me just want to kiss you whenever you do this - I find it so funny and adorable.

This week also brought about your first diaper rash; you were especially miserable for about 24 hours, but it's already nearly gone, so I'm glad we have our happy daughter back.


Typically you still put yourself down for naps (although this is less a given at bedtime). You are typically down to two naps a day; on days where the morning nap is a short 30 - 45 minutes and the afternoon nap is 90 minutes - 2 hours, I can envision the morning nap disappearing before too long. I remember when your naps were all 30 minutes long, so it's nice to see them consolidating into one or two longer naps. Keep it up!

Before my eyes, you're transforming from a baby into a little girl - I'm not quite ready to admit you'll be one year in two short months, but I love watching you grow each day. 


Love,
Mommy

A Letter to My Daughter: Nine Months Old

Your 9-month picture with Giraffe

Dear daughter,

Today you are nine months old. You are bright-eyed and love to watch the world around you, although I'm continually amused at how you'll suddenly duck your head down and grin bashfully when you're showered with compliments by others. You'll flirt and laugh, and then duck down like you're so coy. Very adorable, but I'm not sure I'm buying your shyness!

Whenever we're around the high-school students, I rarely get to hold you anymore unless it's time to eat or sleep (and even then, it might be a fight to regain possession of you!). This past weekend you and I attended an open house, and you were whisked from my car before I could even finish parking. In the span of an hour, every time I turned around you were with someone else. The hostess had you when she left the backyard, and when she came out of the house five minutes later, it was with another child. I was constantly chasing people around to find out where you were next and who had laid claim to you. Fortunately for them, you aren't yet showing signs of stranger anxiety, so you took it all in stride.

Previously, you only rolled over from tummy to back, but you regularly roll over from back to tummy as well. This was initially accomplished in the crib at naptime if you were fighting sleep. You'd get yourself in the most interesting arrangements as you staved off sleep - diagonally, sideways, against one side. You love to sleep on your stomach or side now, even if we put you on your back to start with.

You now have a regular babysitter. One day a week, while I am at work, one of my high-school girls comes and watches you for a few hours so Daddy can get in some extra writing time on campus. She's someone you've seen regularly from birth, and other than fighting naptime your first day with her, you seem to enjoy this change of pace. Of course, this is only a temporary arrangement, since she goes to college in early August, but we'll enjoy it while it lasts.

This summer has brought about new opportunities for our daily routines. We've hung up the tree swing your paternal grandparents gave you, and we purchased a small pool for you to splash around in. Add in walks in the stroller and sitting on a blanket in the grass, and there's a slew of new activities to engage in when the weather cooperates.

You love both the swing and its straps

You enjoy the baby pool much more than your introduction to a hotel pool. Admittedly, it was a little past your bedtime and the water was a little cooler than you're used to, so we shouldn't have been surprised when you were uncertain and then broke into tears until we removed you.

A little worried about this swimming thing, while showing off your strong legs

There's still no crawling yet (although there was a little "reverse army-crawling" action that took place on our wood floors this morning), but you can migrate around the floor to some degree of success from your seated position. You lunge for things out of reach and thus get closer and can easily turn around. You particularly love the challenge of reaching the diaper bag or your baby shoes (the latter to chew on - eww).

Favorite toys run the gamut. You still love Sophie, but then there are strange attachments you have to other objects that we don't completely understand. There are three "envelopes" - thin, hard plastic pieces from your mailbox toy - that you are enamored with. They don't make noise, they don't bend, but they do boast texture and apparently happen to be the perfect size to grip. Your grandparents also gave you a spoon, plate, and bowl. While trying to distract you from playing with your clean clothes while I was trying to put them away, I gave you those objects, and you still adore playing with them (especially the spoon). They make this delightful banging sound when you slam them against each other, so there's no question as to why you're drawn to them.

"I can sing while drumming!"

The jury is still out on food. You have made no attempts to feed yourself, but we're having more predictable success with spoon-feeding you. You are ambivalent on just about everything, although I'm not sure you really enjoyed the baked potato. But sweet potatoes, apples, bananas, blueberries, asparagus, and a few more I may be forgetting - all have been found acceptable.

Asparagus was pretty popular

You continue to grow. We don't have another appointment for a few more weeks, but you were over 20 pounds and nearly 29 inches at your last checkup. You're solidly in 12-month clothes, but even some of those are getting snug (this is true primarily of pants, due to the extra padding lent to you by your cloth diapers). In fact, your hand-me-down 12-month swimsuit was pretty snug, so we bought a 24-month size for you. I'm shocked to admit that it's not as roomy as I was expecting.

Why settle for one duck when you can hold two? Indeed.

There's a saying that resonates with me: The days are long but the years are short. Along with reminding myself that someday I will miss this, I try to keep this thought in mind. Here we are, already having enjoyed nine months of life with you, and I don't know where the time has gone. Typically, it's been a blessed time filled with new discoveries, cuddles, and kisses. But then there are moments when there are more tears than smiles. Or I really wanted to vacuum during your nap but you needed to be rocked and held. Maybe I had a to-do list that I wanted to accomplish but it was 11 PM before I realized I forgot to empty the litterbox and never got to clean the kitchen or run that errand. When my expectations aren't met, when my house isn't as tidy as I'd hoped or wanted, I just have to remind myself that when you're older I will not regret the sticky countertops or the unmade bed, but I will wish I could take back the time I could have savored the opportunity to snuggle with you when you were feeling clingy but instead grew internally frustrated when I couldn't transition you to the crib although I was hungry for lunch.  When you're running off with friends and enjoying moments with them more than time with your parents, I will wish I hadn't wasted time surreptitiously checking my email or Facebook during a free moment while you played nearby. When you're older, I will have ample opportunity to read, craft, even clean, but these moments with you are all too precious. So I am continually trying to invest in you, read with you, sing with you. It's a continual challenge, but writing this here reminds me of where my priorities should be.

Playing train mechanic with her trusty spoon (and knit chicken)

Darling, thank you for all you have taught me already, and all you will continue to do so. May your dad and I be worthy of you.

Love,
Mommy

Dante v. The World

Dante and Augustine in happier times

Judge: Court is now resumed. Dante, do you mind continuing your account of what transpired the morning of Friday, May 27th?

Dante: Yeah. So, you know I love to go outside on the back porch in the mornings, but normally I have to beg and whine a little. However, yesterday when the male slave opened the door without any prompting, I didn't think anything of it, I was just celebrating my good fortune! Augustine trailed out behind me, because I never give her opportunity to go first, instead seeing everything in life as a competition and shoving her aside or jumping over her, whatever is necessarity to win as befits her station, and after just a second or two, she started whining at the door. The male slave opened the door for her after a brief moment, and she scampered inside.

Judge: And what were you doing in this time?

Dante: Doing my part of the backyard watch, making sure the squirrels and birds knew their place. There may have been some tail twitching, some guttural noises, some frantic pacing. You know, the usual.

Judge: Continue.

Dante: So, I noticed after a few minutes the male slave opened the door again to see if I wanted to come in, but seriously, who would protect our backyard if I wasn't there?! My shift wasn't over, and I refused to slack off, like one other cat I know (*cough* Augustine! *cough*). And it's not like the male slave tried very hard. Now that I think about it, I think he only opened the door a sliver, and even had I wanted to end my shift early, I'm not convinced I had any chance to actually cross the porch and get through the opening before he shut it again without some crazy awesome ninja skills. Yeah, he's definitely in on this.

Judge: Let's avoid empty speculations.

Dante: So, finally, I figured it was probably time to chase Augustine for me to make my rounds of the house, and I ambled inside the next time the door was opened. And this is when it got ugly.  Immediately I knew something was wrong.

Judge: Proceed.

Dante: So I entered the kitchen, and there was a smell of tuna in the air. TUNA! I love that stuff! I'm not even sure I heard a can opener, so nefarious forces must have been at work to keep me in the dark. Fat chance of that! I sniffed and scoured the floor, but I couldn't find anything. So, anyway, it was clear there had been a dish...or two...on the floor with the beloved tuna water quite recently.  But not anymore.

Judge: Tuna water? Can you elaborate on that?

Dante: Sure. Well, the female slave sometimes gets out a tuna can. She hasn't realized it's only for feline consumption (as if!), but as she drains the water into two little cat dishes, even sometimes letting actual tuna chunks in the mixture, I usually let that slide. So, when all is right with the world, she sets those two dishes down. Now, I admit that usually Augustine is the first to spot this bounty, but through no fault of my own. She's just not keeping up with her kitty guard duties, so she's more likely to react in her lazy state.

Anyway, usually her speed alerts me that something's going down, and I join her. She tries to pick a bowl of her own, but it's up to me to see that she's chosen wisely. Usually she hasn't, so I shoo her away from the first bowl. And then I realize she might have tried to pull the wool over my eyes I forgot to do quality control on the second bowl, so I have to shoo her away from that one as well. Once I've established that both bowls are safe -- and it usually takes a couple passes back and forth, because safety is job one and I take it quite seriously -- I let Augustine know which one is hers based on whichever bowl has the least remaining is the least likely to be contaminated, and then we settle in with our lapping race. I usually finish first, and then it's my duty to help Augustine finish. You know, so she doesn't get a tummy ache. She's advanced enough in age that...

Judge: Hold on a moment. [Papers ruffle] My records show she's only about a year or so older than you. Is this correct?

Dante: Exactly. As I was saying, in her infirmity, she should watch what she eats -- and how quickly -- and that's where I step in and help her finish. 

Judge: So, yesterday you thought you smelled tuna in the air. What happened then?

Dante: Well, I didn't see any bowls with the evidence, but I bet if my slaves would have let me jump on the counter, I would have found them in the sink. But they looked as if nothing was out of sorts, although they were quite attentive to my actions, more so than usual, which should have tipped me off that they didn't have my best interests at heart. In fact, I've lost track of how many times the male slave has catered to Augustine, telling her how sweet she is, how pretty, how "good," and then he has the nerve to hold her up as an example to me, telling me I should be more like her. I'm so misunderstood in my own house!

Judge: You're off track, again. Please stick to the account of yesterday's events with minimal tangents.

Dante: So I went to Augustine.

Judge: Describe her, please.

Dante: Well, that good-for-nothing cat, she thinks she's all that, was sitting primly in the living room on the rug. She tried to look all innocent as I approached, like I'm dumb or something. And just because I'm polydactyl and there happens to be some anecdotal evidence -- planted, I'm confident of that, because anyone can edit Wikipedia, you know, and there are wrong things on the internet--

Judge: What did I saw about indulging in these unnecessary tangents?

Dante: Fine. Some individuals claim that cats with such traits happen to be a little slow on the uptake -- liars! -- they all think I won't notice. But my olfactory senses are beyond belief, I tell you!

Judge: Let's rein it in. Return to the point of the story where you approached Augustine yesterday.

Dante: [Grumbling and muttering under his breath about well-planted hairballs for a moment before composing himself] Seriously, this is an outrage; don't you want to know all the facts?! Whatever. So I approach her, and you know what happens? I sniff her breath, and anyone want to hazard a guess of what I smelled?! TUNA! On her breath! There are only a few ways that could happen. First, she could have a tuna fish that she's slowly licking to death. But I ruled that out. Because, seriously, where would she hide it? I know everything about our dwellings and all her hiding spots. So unless she found the elusive "second basement" I've heard in legend, there's no tuna fish she's keeping to herself. So I moved onto my second guess: that she hadn't cleaned since the last time we had glorious tuna water. But as I thought about that, I smelled my breath, and there was no tuna. Let me tell you, Augustine has this weird thing about being cleanly. After all, when I was brought into this abode, she had the nerve to imply that I was a mangy, ugly feline and needed a little help in the hygiene department. So if anyone was going to have residual tuna water breath, it was going to be me. And I didn't. My third guess was that my pending patent for a tuna-flavored breath spray had made it to market. But last I'd heard, it was held up in development as they tried to figure out how we could operate it without opposable thumbs (and, um, there's also some difficulty creating a container safe for consumption, since the test subjects keep trying to eat the cat spray once they catch a whiff). So I moved onto another thought, the most evil, darkest, and convicting of all. There had been tuna water set out for us, and she had drank not just one bowl, but BOTH bowls.

Judge: Did you confront her?

Dante: Why, yes, I did. I got up in her face, asking whether she had just had a treat in the form of tuna water goodness. And you know what she had the nerve to do?!

Judge: We're all waiting on pins and needles for your account, I assure you.

Dante: She LICKED her face! In front of me! She was taunting me, right there, her tongue licking her non-existent lips. It makes me crazy! Like I had this coming to me or something! Oh, boy, she better watch her back! Why, the next time we...

Judge: I think I've heard enough. We'll take a ten-minute recess, and I will relay my decision when we reconvene. And before then, I suggest you think long and hard about what has been shared here and conduct yourselves in a manner befitting these solemn proceedings, or I won't hesitate to throw this case out. We're adjourned.

A Letter to My Daughter: Eight Months Old

Dear B,

Your 8-month picture with the Giraffe

Yesterday you reached 8 months (I seriously have every intention of penning these on the actual date, but sometimes life has other plans). Anyway, there have been some big developments in the last month.

Physically, your eyes, which started out blue, now resemble more of a gray color, and when I look closely, I see flecks of gold, so I think they will end up being brown before long.

Your second tooth has popped out, and the merest point of it can be seen next to your first bottom tooth. You're still pretty ambivalent about food, but you have become quite the kisser. This consists of you pressing your opened mouth against our faces - quite messy, yet worth every slobbery streak.

Slobbery kisses in action

We're constantly entertained by what you do with your hands. Sometimes you fold them primly in your lap, and other times, they're outstretched and doing a series of interesting movements, starting with the palms up, then being turned around gracefully. The best thing I can liken it to is a Hawaiian hula dance. I'm sure you're just fascinated by what you can make your arms do, but it's quite amusing to watch them rotate.

Enjoying the warmer weather outside

You're still not mobile in the strictest definition of crawling/scooting/walking, but you can rotate yourself around from your seated position, and when you're on your back (but not so much your stomach), if we apply resistance for your feet to push against, you will impress us by mimicking a worm's movements.

Opening your Easter basket

We often fall into the habit of rocking you to sleep when you're teething and need some extra comforting, and then we forget we don't need to keep doing it once you're past the painful bout. This month found us trying to break ourselves of that habit. It's funny - I think you actually prefer to put yourself down sometimes. We might be trying to rock you and it appears you're fighting it as you squirm and kick, but if we then set you in your crib, you happily settle. There's a special little stuffed kitty (a gift from Grandpa Claire) we often give you, and you will hold it and coo to it until you drop off. Once in a while you fight putting yourself down so we rock you to sleep, but that's the exception rather than the norm now. This makes me feel like there's more time to the day; you might spend 5-10 minutes playing with your kitty in bed, and then you take your nap, which tends to be at least 30 minutes. And an added bonus - now that you're putting yourself to sleep, it appears you take better (and longer) naps. Lately, your first nap of the day is around 75 - 90 minutes, which was unheard of before. And now you are starting to take a slightly longer afternoon nap, too, perhaps another 75-90 minutes, which has been a welcome treat. Instead of four naps a day, we appear to have reached a point where you average about 3 naps. These longer naps give your daddy time to catch up on work or mommy a chance to sew, clean the litter boxes, etc.  We do adore time spent snuggling with you, but I can't complain about the opportunity to get a bite to eat or use the restroom instead of wondering when you might wake up so we can tend to those needs (during some naps you insisted on being held or else you'd wake up when we tried to transition you). It's good for your introverted parents to have brief solo times in between tending to you. It makes us better parents and more ready to introduce the world to you through play or walks.

Some of your wonder captured

You go back and forth with sleeping through the night. Sometimes you'll sleep through until 6:30, and other times you're up at 4 (or last night, it was 1 AM - ouch!). Actually, this is another change we've experienced in the last month. We used to wake you before we went to bed to feed you one last time, and this sometimes helped you sleep straight through. However, in another example of your parents being slow to pick up on your cues, we finally acknowledged that you were big enough to sleep through and had stopped appreciating being disturbed for one more meal; additionally, you seemed to wake at the same times, whether or not we'd fed you around 11 PM. So we phased those out, choosing only to feed you if you woke on your own. The first couple days you were conditioned to waking up then to be fed, so you'd sometimes get up as you heard us preparing for bed, but now, you fall asleep somewhere between 7:45 and 9 PM (depending on when your last nap was, how well you've slept that day, or whether we had evening commitments that you tagged along to) and wake up for the day around 7 AM, give or take. Again, there's sometimes a brief wake-up that occurs around 4 AM, but we all seem to be happy with this arrangement. Now if only Mommy and Daddy would go to bed earlier, we'd feel well rested. Unfortunately, we night owls are slow learners.

This past month also held Mother's Day. I have to admit that it was nice to have you around for that day. The past few Mother's Days have been bittersweet. Some people told me I was still a mother even though my arms were empty, but it was a hard day all the same, symbolizing what was all too short for us. I remember the first Mother's Day after we lost Katherine; our high school group decided to give flowers to all the moms, and I was touched that they remembered me (apparently in the planning session, one girl specifically said, "What about Faith? We're including her, right?"). It was emotional, but I appreciated that our daughter was still remembered by these students. This year, while I wished I could have celebrated with both my daughters at my side, I was reminded of how blessed I am to get to be a mother to you every day.

Our church holds a child dedication every year on Mother's Day, and we chose to have you dedicated publicly. It was a simple ceremony, but it was meaningful to be a part of. You'll have to pardon the picture, as the sanctuary was dimly lit. In actuality, such a ceremony won't change how we raise you, but it's a recognition of how we want to raise you, and it's an opportunity to acknowledge this in front of others. It also allowed us to admit that we want our lives to be centered around pursuing God and loving others in all we do and we aim to raise you in kind, however imperfectly. We trust our lives and actions will be a testimony for you to witness and hopefully embrace and we acknowledge that you are a gift and we are entrusted with your life.

Listening to the pastor

One of my favorite memories of this last month took place when you and I went to Panera to meet for coffee with one of my high school girls. The weather was so beautiful so we sat outside, you in a high chair. For starters, your heart sunglasses, a gift from your paternal grandparents, were quite the hit. Honestly, I think everyone (male, female, young, old) fawned over you as they came and went. But that wasn't the memorable part.

"These glasses get me so much attention!"

What brought me joy was when you felt the breeze on your face - you doubled over in laughter, and it was so contagious and just wouldn't end. It was the most sustained laughing I'd heard from you yet, and it was so absolutely precious. I wished several times I had my camera on me so I could have taken a video. You're now starting to laugh on your own with little prompting. Just tonight, you were giggling (kind of in a fake, forced way, though) as you buried your face into a pillow and smiled coyly at me; I think it's a sign of you developing the ability to laugh socially.

No matter where we go, people are constantly telling us how beautiful you are, and we can't help but agree. We are so struck with your perfect features, although I joke that we'll have to ban such talk around you in a year or two so you don't become vain.

But let's ignore the superficial characteristics. I just want you to know what a joy it it to be a mother to you. You are such a darling and I can't imagine how things could be improved any more - we have such an easy time being parents to you. You are mellow and entertain yourself with solo play. You are curious about the world around you. You don't fuss; other parents are surprised after observing you, and they insist that you certainly can't be like this all the time, but you really are. Sure, a teething bout here or there, or some passing annoyance if we take away something prematurely. In every area, though, you are so perfect. Your personality is a welcome complement to ours and your presence in our lives adds so much.

The biggest adjustment has been figuring out how we retain ourselves while caring for you. We weren't under any pretense when you were born; we knew it was a big transition to parenthood, and it does take much of our attention. But we still strive to hold onto our original activities when possible (volunteering with the high school group, my knitting night, even our hobbies to some extent), and while it's an evolving experiment, I think we've settled into something comfortable.

Love,
Mommy

A Letter to My Daughter: Seven Months Old

Dear daughter,

Today you are seven months old. It’s mind-boggling to me that you are now closer to your first birthday than to the day you were born; I know time keeps marching on, but I’m constantly struck with how quickly you’re growing, especially as I see close friends welcome babies. I see their newborn pictures and know you were at that stage not too long ago, but I see you now and you are so vibrant and interactive.

You rarely spit up now, which is a welcome change from the days of constantly carrying a burp cloth around; I feared you were getting attached to those things, and while they’d be easy to have duplicates of, they sure aren’t as pretty as other blankets you’ve been given!

We introduced you to rice cereal a month ago. The first week was interesting – you didn’t know why we were trying to put something in your mouth, so it was amusing to witness us try to get you to sample it. Dad would try to get you to smile, and I’d slip the spoon in. You’d get this confused look on your face as you sampled food. Now you know how to open your mouth and slurp off the spoon, but your tongue pushes just as much food back out as down your throat. I know this reflex decreases with age, so we’ll just keep at it. Your indifference to food now will change before long. However, I’m not surprised at your apathy, as you are not orally fixated; unless you’re teething, nothing goes in your mouth.

You are so attentive to the world around you, watching everything and everyone raptly. I think you’re starting to wave – we’ve noticed you lifting an arm up around new people and flexing your fingers. You're now in your convertible carseat, and you will keep a keen eye out the windows, taking in the world. When we're in public, you might grip a toy, but it has none of your interest; instead, you watch the waitress and patrons at the restaurant, or the shoppers and merchandise in the stores.

You love to grip things, and you're adept at passing them from one hand to another, picking them up from the ground, and not letting go for anything! Your paternal grandparents came out for a visit, and Grandma was quite impressed at how well you held things. You're starting to show interest in my water bottles and Daddy's glasses of tea, which makes me think we should introduce you to a sippy cup soon.

Daddy loves to read the paper in the morning, and anymore he's taken to "sharing" a section of it with you; you're a fan of grabbing paper and we're amused at how it looks like you're reading. We ordered some takeout Chinese, and you got ahold of the menu as if you were trying to make your selections known.

This past month also marked your first plane trip. Your daddy had a conference in the Twin Cities, and since we used to live there, I tagged along to introduce you to old friends. We couldn't have asked for a better companion. I felt like Super Mom after the first flight! We woke you up just before 6 AM to transfer you to the car. You were interested in everything around you and tried to flirt with anyone who made eye contact. Once we boarded, we fed you during takeoff, you played a little, and then you fell asleep in the Snugli with no trouble and no noise. Teething hit you full force while we were away, though, making for some early mornings, and you weren't as happy during the days as we're used to (still few to no tears, but you made this angsty noise as a soundtrack to your playing). However, you fared well on our return flights - we were supposed to have a direct flight, but that one was diverted into Detroit after our airport shut down to attend to a small plane crash (the pilot of the small plane was extracted and hospitalized after a strong crosswind blew the airplane off the runway upon landing). You were pretty talkative on this one - your mouth was hurting - but I think Daddy and I were the only ones who noticed, as everyone else was grinning at you throughout and commenting afterwards on how great a traveler you were. And once we were able to finally get back home on that final flight, you fell asleep during the taxi and didn't wake up until we landed.

Another big milestone: your first tooth is here! It's above your gums, although it has a bit more popping out to do before it's done. This has meant your sleeping has been interrupted again, but you seem to be over the pain of this tooth and in a reprieve until the next one comes, meaning you've been sleeping in until 6 AM.

You are so great at entertaining yourself. As long as you can see us, you don't care what we're doing or if you're being held. You happily grab at toys, look closely at them, manipulate them, then trade them for something else nearby. I'm surprised you're already so contented at solitary play, but it reminded me - after the nursery ladies at church commented on it as well - that I was once told by a friend of my parents that she used to work in the nursery when I was pretty young, maybe 3 years old or so. She once set me up in front of an easel with some paints, and all the other children tired of the same activity quickly, but that was all I did the whole time, happily lost in my paints until my parents collected me. This stood out to her enough that she still remembered this about me many years later when I encountered her. I hope we share the trait of being easily amused so I can spend hours staring at anthills with you, tracing the paths of the scurrying ants. Or tracking the moon's rise through the sky as twilight transitions to night. There's a lot of beauty that can be missed when we rush, and I'd like to experience these wonders again with you. Already I'm caught up in seeing things again through your eyes. I think that's one of the chief joys of parenthood - recapturing little bits of our childhood as we witness our child encounter so many things for the first time.

I love your spontaneous laughs. I admit that when you laugh suddenly in response to something that amuses you, I feel as if I could cry. And I don't just mean a solitary tear leaking out of my eye; I mean a good, hearty sob. If I had to explain it, I think it's because it shows how alive you are, how joyful, and it's captured and shared in that moment. Not only that, but that as your mother, I get to play some role in this (and that, at least in that little moment, we haven't completely messed up in raising you). There are so many things that you're going to face down the road, and I know my heart will break as you encounter sadness and hurt and betrayal. But for now, those things aren't even in your memory, so as the wind whipped through your hair one gorgeous afternoon, as it tickled your face and tossed the dead leaves in the driveway into an impromptu dance, you couldn't help but laugh outright. It erupted from you, and I got to witness it. Each time a huge gust came, so did your hearty enjoyment. Yes, darling, keep that joy. Don't forget there are marvelous things all around, just waiting to be noticed. Winter is long, but there is a spring that comes and makes all things new again.

Much love,
Mommy