Last night I did something I almost never do: I canceled on a commitment I'd made. It kind of made me a little sick to my stomach, but it was seriously the best decision I could have made.
It's been a crazy few weeks around our house (apartment). JP has been super swamped with school, meaning late LATE nights both weeks. He also does a men's group on Mondays at church, and I help with Awana Wednesday. Then we have small group on Thursday (last week, after which, he went BACK into school until some AM hour that comes after 12 and before 6). Anyhow, it's just been crazy all around: he's been busy and wanting family time, I've been doing it all on the home front, and Eli's been greatly missing his daddy. (On Tuesday he asked for Dada and when I told him he wasn't here he said "Dada his house. See dada two weeks" - which is what we've been telling him about his Nana and Pa, who, in fact, are at their house and are coming in (now less than) two weeks. It broke my heart.)
So, last night, JP was able to take a break from 5-9pm before going BACK to school to finish up his project. He said that he could really do with some family time. And I was torn. I felt EXACTLY the same way, but had my Awana commitment. I hemmed and hawed (cause that's what we do in the south) and debated over and over in my mind whether or not to cancel. And finally, I did (with that sick stomach feeling). I messaged my partner and the lady who is head over all the Sparks and I didn't make any excuses (if I ever, EVER had canceled a commitment in the past I would have felt the need for some amazing excuse - you know, the kind where you take the truth and make it sound a whole lot worse than it is). This time though, I told the exact truth - that our family was running on empty, we had the chance for a little time together before more busy-ness, and I wouldn't be able to make it.
They were super understanding and we had a great few hours together. We went to Cow-o-ween at Chic Fil A with our cute little zebra, and just enjoyed being together. It recharged my hubby to go back and get work done, and it refreshed my soul to get out and just talk to my best friend. Eli was also so happy to have Daddy home, he didn't even cry when JP put him to bed (I always get a few tears, sadly).
Anyhow, it wasn't anything huge that I did - just a small decision. And yet, it felt big. It was a matter of putting into action a truth that I feel like I have been slowly learning over the past year. I HAVE to prioritize time with and for my family. There are SO many GOOD things to do (like Awana) and I'm not advocating for not doing any of them, or for regularly skipping out on commitments. BUT, I also know that, when necessary, someone else can step in and temporarily take my spot at church, or in the other outside things I do. But no one can enter in and meet my families needs in the same way. No one can take on my role as Eli's mom and JP's wife (at least, no one better!) and I need to make sure their needs are met before trying to meet everyone else's.
I'm not sure why that little word, with only two letters is so hard to say. Probably because I seek people's approval so much and never want to let anyone down. I still don't want to, and will be back at Awana next week. But in the meantime I learned if something does HAVE to be put on hold, it needs to be the right things…
It was hard to cancel last night, but it was worth it. SO worth it.
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
The craziest thing I've ever done.... and why Chic Fil A is awesome.
My name is Mary. And I'm officially a crazy pregnant person.
This pregnancy has been different from my first in every way possible (or so it seems). My first pregnancy was a complete and total surprise; this one was planned and prayed for. With Eli I was carefree and naive to all the things that could possibly go wrong; this time I'm reading a book related to being anxious because I can. not. stop. worrying. The nausea has been worse, I've gagged and puked and gagged some more, I've struggled to cook anything (and eating what I cook is a whole other feat). It's been hard. But mostly I've kept my sanity. Until tonight.
This week and last, I've finally been able to cook and eat what I cook! SCORE! I was so proud of myself yesterday when I made dinner, sat at the table and ate everything I had made. Then, 3.5 hours later I sent the hubs out to get me a salad because we have hardly any food in the house that doesn't require cooking and I was STARVING. Tonight was a rinse and repeat.
I made chili and corn bread and it was delicious. Approx 3 hours later, intense hunger struck. I still haven't made it to the grocery store yet this week, so again, I needed food brought in. The hubs graciously offered to get whatever I wanted (it's either a blessing or a curse that we live so close to everything). I decided a kids meal from Chic Fil A would hit the spot.
The hubs ran out and came back, bag of fast food goodness in hand. I opened the bag and was dismayed to find GRILLED nuggets inside. I told JP they had messed up the order. He assured me they had not - that I had told him I wanted grilled nuggets. Um, no. How many pregnant ladies do you know that want GRILLED anything? We went back and forth for a few minutes about what I had ordered, until I told him I couldn't eat those nuggets, and could he please get regular ones. (Note: he said that during this time a "hissy fit" was thrown. I don't remember a hissy fit. I remember tears. Please recall, the word "dismayed" was used to describe my feelings upon opening said nuggets. It seriously didn't feel like a messed up order, it felt like the world was ending). After he said he'd get the nuggets I did feel a bit of remorse and told him it was ok, I'd be alright. He must have seen right through that...
So my husband did what any loving husband would do. He called Chic Fil A. They were CLOSED (it was 10pm at this point). He explained the situation and that he'd gotten the wrong thing for his pregnant wife. They checked to see if they had regular nuggets, they did. He drove back to the restaurant, they UNLOCKED the doors, and the manager met him with nuggets in hand. She didn't charge him and told him she'd been pregnant in the past year, and she understood.
JP came home, tossed the nuggets to me and didn't say anything for a few minutes. I asked him a question and he didn't answer. He was (understandably) a little perturbed about this whole chicken fiasco. I decided to eat my nuggets without pushing, and let him come around. A few minutes ago, he got up, came over, kissed me and told me he loved me and forgave me for being crazy. (I've got a good husband y'all).
He also told me that this might be the most ridiculous thing I've ever done, and that I should write a blog post about it. So there you go. The craziest thing I've ever done, AND reason number 345 of why Chic Fil A is the most amazing place ever. In the history of the world.
Oh, and I decided to dig through the blog and see if I had record of any hormone induced episodes from when I was pregnant with Eli. Turns out I did. Back then I was even hormonal in my sleep. Good to know it isn't just this baby :)
Edit/full disclosure: JP read this and said it didn't quite capture my level of craziness. So apparently, however nuts this makes me seem - I was worse.
This pregnancy has been different from my first in every way possible (or so it seems). My first pregnancy was a complete and total surprise; this one was planned and prayed for. With Eli I was carefree and naive to all the things that could possibly go wrong; this time I'm reading a book related to being anxious because I can. not. stop. worrying. The nausea has been worse, I've gagged and puked and gagged some more, I've struggled to cook anything (and eating what I cook is a whole other feat). It's been hard. But mostly I've kept my sanity. Until tonight.
This week and last, I've finally been able to cook and eat what I cook! SCORE! I was so proud of myself yesterday when I made dinner, sat at the table and ate everything I had made. Then, 3.5 hours later I sent the hubs out to get me a salad because we have hardly any food in the house that doesn't require cooking and I was STARVING. Tonight was a rinse and repeat.
I made chili and corn bread and it was delicious. Approx 3 hours later, intense hunger struck. I still haven't made it to the grocery store yet this week, so again, I needed food brought in. The hubs graciously offered to get whatever I wanted (it's either a blessing or a curse that we live so close to everything). I decided a kids meal from Chic Fil A would hit the spot.
The hubs ran out and came back, bag of fast food goodness in hand. I opened the bag and was dismayed to find GRILLED nuggets inside. I told JP they had messed up the order. He assured me they had not - that I had told him I wanted grilled nuggets. Um, no. How many pregnant ladies do you know that want GRILLED anything? We went back and forth for a few minutes about what I had ordered, until I told him I couldn't eat those nuggets, and could he please get regular ones. (Note: he said that during this time a "hissy fit" was thrown. I don't remember a hissy fit. I remember tears. Please recall, the word "dismayed" was used to describe my feelings upon opening said nuggets. It seriously didn't feel like a messed up order, it felt like the world was ending). After he said he'd get the nuggets I did feel a bit of remorse and told him it was ok, I'd be alright. He must have seen right through that...
So my husband did what any loving husband would do. He called Chic Fil A. They were CLOSED (it was 10pm at this point). He explained the situation and that he'd gotten the wrong thing for his pregnant wife. They checked to see if they had regular nuggets, they did. He drove back to the restaurant, they UNLOCKED the doors, and the manager met him with nuggets in hand. She didn't charge him and told him she'd been pregnant in the past year, and she understood.
JP came home, tossed the nuggets to me and didn't say anything for a few minutes. I asked him a question and he didn't answer. He was (understandably) a little perturbed about this whole chicken fiasco. I decided to eat my nuggets without pushing, and let him come around. A few minutes ago, he got up, came over, kissed me and told me he loved me and forgave me for being crazy. (I've got a good husband y'all).
He also told me that this might be the most ridiculous thing I've ever done, and that I should write a blog post about it. So there you go. The craziest thing I've ever done, AND reason number 345 of why Chic Fil A is the most amazing place ever. In the history of the world.
Oh, and I decided to dig through the blog and see if I had record of any hormone induced episodes from when I was pregnant with Eli. Turns out I did. Back then I was even hormonal in my sleep. Good to know it isn't just this baby :)
Edit/full disclosure: JP read this and said it didn't quite capture my level of craziness. So apparently, however nuts this makes me seem - I was worse.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Thankful...
This afternoon during Eli's nap, I sat down to get a few things done. On the list of things to do was to write a thank you note. A sweet friend has recently given Eli a pair of Stride Rite sandals and a pair of Crocs that were new or hardly worn that her son couldn't wear. This has been a blessing to our family (um, kids shoes are EXPENSIVE) and I wanted to express my gratitude for these nice items.
As I wrote this particular note, I thought about the others I have written in the past week. One to a friend who sent Eli some cute summer clothes. Another to a friend who was reading a book, thought of me, and bought/sent me a copy. I also thought of Eli's sweet grandparents and great grandparents (my Mom & Dad, awesome in-laws, and my grandparents) who brought lots of clothes, healthy treats, summer gear, etc a few weeks ago. If I sent them thank-yous for every kind thing they do for us and Eli, I'd have to buy stock in Hallmark to support my stationery purchases.
The fact of the matter is - I am blessed and so is my little family. We have some dear, sweet people in our lives - both friends and family - who love us tremendously and who make their love known to us by such kind and generous actions. Although I wish it weren't the case, I can sometimes be a "negative Nancy" and find plenty a reason to be down in the dumps. But somehow, writing the thank you note this afternoon really lifted my spirit.
My mom always told me that writing thank you notes was just something you do - that it is important to express gratitude when others do something kind for you, that it lets them know you appreciate them. But I think it does more than that. I think writing thank you notes (and simply reflecting on the things you are thankful for) does as much for the writer as it does for the receiver. It allows you to tangibly recognize your blessings.
I am so grateful for mine. And I am challenged, whenever possible, to try to extend and offer blessings to others. There is so much joy in both receiving AND in giving.
As I wrote this particular note, I thought about the others I have written in the past week. One to a friend who sent Eli some cute summer clothes. Another to a friend who was reading a book, thought of me, and bought/sent me a copy. I also thought of Eli's sweet grandparents and great grandparents (my Mom & Dad, awesome in-laws, and my grandparents) who brought lots of clothes, healthy treats, summer gear, etc a few weeks ago. If I sent them thank-yous for every kind thing they do for us and Eli, I'd have to buy stock in Hallmark to support my stationery purchases.
The fact of the matter is - I am blessed and so is my little family. We have some dear, sweet people in our lives - both friends and family - who love us tremendously and who make their love known to us by such kind and generous actions. Although I wish it weren't the case, I can sometimes be a "negative Nancy" and find plenty a reason to be down in the dumps. But somehow, writing the thank you note this afternoon really lifted my spirit.
My mom always told me that writing thank you notes was just something you do - that it is important to express gratitude when others do something kind for you, that it lets them know you appreciate them. But I think it does more than that. I think writing thank you notes (and simply reflecting on the things you are thankful for) does as much for the writer as it does for the receiver. It allows you to tangibly recognize your blessings.
I am so grateful for mine. And I am challenged, whenever possible, to try to extend and offer blessings to others. There is so much joy in both receiving AND in giving.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Confession... I'm deciding Eli's favorite sport for him.
I always said that I wouldn't pressure Eli to do things just because I want him to. You know, like play a particular instrument or participate in a certain sport. I felt very strongly that those choices should be his. I still feel that way. I won't force my desires on him, or any other future children, but will leave him (them) to make their own decisions.
Except..... I really REALLY want him to play baseball.
I didn't even realize this was a hope and dream of mine until a Facebook friend (and former student's parent) posted pictures of Cove Creek. I love Love LOVE me some spring baseball at Cove Creek y'all. I'm not sure what it is, but there's something about spending a spring day in the bleachers, overlooking the baseball field, listening to those silly songs kids sing in the dugouts. There, the nachos and hamburgers taste better, and eating them doesn't induce the same amount of guilt as having the same foods somewhere else. And let's not even get started on how stinkin cute a little boy looks in a baseball uniform.
I've always hoped that our kiddos would play a sport (if they want to), as one of my biggest regrets is NOT. I decided in 9th grade that I wanted to play volleyball, but at that point, the people going out for the team had been playing together for years, and I was just a girl who enjoyed the unit in P.E. I was a chicken and never even tried out. I always wished I'd played some sport, and I like to think Eli will.
But, let's be honest - despite my love for NFL (and even more so for college football) the sport kind of scares me. It's not exactly the safest, and the thought of Eli getting tackled sends chills up my mama spine. It'd be pretty exciting if he were good and actually got to play some college ball one day, but I feel like those chances aren't as good as the chance of him getting seriously hurt. So, I'd kind of like to cross that one off of the list (and pray that Eli never asks to put it back on). Then there's soccer, which, unfortunately I find terribly, terribly boring to watch. I suppose if Eli asks to play I'll rejoice that he didn't request football, but it's still not my top choice.
I could settle for basketball. Maybe Eli will continue to stay above the curve height wise and be tall like his Daddy. I can get into a basketball game a heck of a lot easier than a soccer one, and there are still bleachers (albeit not outside in the warm spring sun). So that could be a compromise.
But really, I've kind of got my heart set on baseball. (To the extent that when looking for a little "basket" for Eli's first Easter egg hunt this weekend, I almost got the plush baseball one, you know, to steer things in my direction. However, the hubs convinced me that this wasn't my call to make and that was a little ridiculous. Le sigh).
We've got a while before he figures this out, so we'll see what happens. It'll be my luck that he'll want football in the fall and soccer in the spring. Which, I suppose means we'll have to keep having babies. Eventually one of them will want to play baseball (or softball). Right?
Monday, March 25, 2013
Eli's first fall.... another life lesson.
Well, it happened: Eli had his first (of what I am sure will be many, but pray will be few) busted lip. He's fallen or bumped a body part numerous times, but this was the very first incident that resulted in blood.
We were outside, about to get in the car, and he was toddling around the blacktop, having a blast. He's been walking for a little over a month, and absolutely loves being down, out of our arms, exploring. He's recently gotten really good at walking outside - even on uneven ground. Well, this time he was holding a cup in his hands, and his mouth, instead of hands, broke his fall. He started crying and I rushed over, deeply saddened to find blood on my sweet boy's mouth. As he reached his hands up, I scooped him up and hugged him tightly in my arms. I told him "Momma's here. It's all right"
Now, let me be clear - this was not a traumatic fall. Eli probably cried for less than 60 seconds. A little cuddle and wipe of the mouth later, he was fine - a scrape on his lip, but otherwise, no worse for the wear.
It was I, not Eli, who was most bothered by the fall. My first reaction (which now seems so silly) was "JP, he's bleeding, what do we do?". Haha. I'm not a rocket scientist, but I have worked with children for the past 9 years, and I've dealt with plenty a scrape and cut (and much worse - both a broken arm and broken leg). As a teacher and childcare program supervisor, I've been the one "in charge" and handled many situation with ease and grace. However, something about seeing my child hurt and bleeding struck a different chord in my mama heart. Then, once it was dealt with, I just wanted to hold him. I felt so badly that he had experienced pain and wanted to wipe it all away.
Of course, I can't. I can't (and won't) coddle him, and prevent him from running around and experiencing life and the world around him. I can't shield him from every single thing that could possibly cause pain (whether physical or emotional). He will get hurt at times.
And, as much as I can, I will do what I did on Saturday. I will pick him back up, try as best I can to make the pain go away, and let him know how much I love him.
And (because I'm a thinker), I contemplated how similar it is with God. How it must hurt him deeply to see us go running off, take a fall and get hurt. How He must hate to see us cry and bleed from a cut or scrape we face in life. And how, like a loving parent, He comes to us in our time of need, longing to see us reach our hands to him so that He can take us in his arms and let us know that it's going to be alright. That He's there.
We were outside, about to get in the car, and he was toddling around the blacktop, having a blast. He's been walking for a little over a month, and absolutely loves being down, out of our arms, exploring. He's recently gotten really good at walking outside - even on uneven ground. Well, this time he was holding a cup in his hands, and his mouth, instead of hands, broke his fall. He started crying and I rushed over, deeply saddened to find blood on my sweet boy's mouth. As he reached his hands up, I scooped him up and hugged him tightly in my arms. I told him "Momma's here. It's all right"
Now, let me be clear - this was not a traumatic fall. Eli probably cried for less than 60 seconds. A little cuddle and wipe of the mouth later, he was fine - a scrape on his lip, but otherwise, no worse for the wear.
It was I, not Eli, who was most bothered by the fall. My first reaction (which now seems so silly) was "JP, he's bleeding, what do we do?". Haha. I'm not a rocket scientist, but I have worked with children for the past 9 years, and I've dealt with plenty a scrape and cut (and much worse - both a broken arm and broken leg). As a teacher and childcare program supervisor, I've been the one "in charge" and handled many situation with ease and grace. However, something about seeing my child hurt and bleeding struck a different chord in my mama heart. Then, once it was dealt with, I just wanted to hold him. I felt so badly that he had experienced pain and wanted to wipe it all away.
Of course, I can't. I can't (and won't) coddle him, and prevent him from running around and experiencing life and the world around him. I can't shield him from every single thing that could possibly cause pain (whether physical or emotional). He will get hurt at times.
And, as much as I can, I will do what I did on Saturday. I will pick him back up, try as best I can to make the pain go away, and let him know how much I love him.
And (because I'm a thinker), I contemplated how similar it is with God. How it must hurt him deeply to see us go running off, take a fall and get hurt. How He must hate to see us cry and bleed from a cut or scrape we face in life. And how, like a loving parent, He comes to us in our time of need, longing to see us reach our hands to him so that He can take us in his arms and let us know that it's going to be alright. That He's there.
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Good days and bad days...
Most days, I LOVE being at home with Eli. I've written numerous posts about how I think I have the most wonderful "job" in the whole world and I don't hesitate to share the all the sweet stuff he does on here, or Facebook (or, let's be honest, both). I also try not to post too much of the bad. I *try* not to mention the sleepless nights, or nasty diapers, or clingy/fussy times too much, because I really don't want to complain. I feel genuinely blessed by my son, and I love him dearly. I also think being negative about the challenges tends to shift the attitude of my heart, and I don't want to do that. I want to choose joy, even on difficult days. However, I sometimes feel the need to be real. I have friends who tell me how much they'd love to be home, and how wonderful it would be. (I think my youngest sister is living in a fantasy where I eat bonbons and shop all the time and have a glorious social life. I'll let you know when she wakes up. I sometimes think people hold up staying home as a situation where "the grass is always beautifully green and perfectly cut". I think they do this because that is precisely what I did.
The truth is, staying home (while a blessing, and something I wouldn't trade for the world), is work. It is hard work, and there are difficult days. And today, my friends, is one of them.
Last night, Eli woke up at 2:30am. This was a bit out of character for him, but I was gone at bedtime, so I nursed him about an hour and a half before he went down, which, JP said, wasn't super smooth. I thought maybe that was throwing him off, so I nursed him. Then, he was up again at 4, this time screaming unconsolably until approximately 5:30. JP and I took turns tending to him, let him cry a bit, and tried all we could do to calm him down. Finally, by 6:00, we were all back to sleep.
Then, Eli slept until 10:15. That might sound glorious, except that today was one of just two days we had plans during the day, and I was oh so looking forward to get out of the house. Unfortunately, BSF started at 9:30 - so we missed it. I was grumpy about my lack of sleep and my plans falling through before my feet even hit the floor. And it only got worse.
Eli has been especially difficult about food again lately. I feel like I have been in the kitchen as much as a chef trying to make healthy options for him to eat, but he's been exceptionally picky. This morning I made oatmeal. He wouldn't touch it (just as he wouldn't touch the broccoli or chili I made Monday, or even the yogurt he had yesterday). He spit it out and tried to throw the spoon. All he'd eat was a banana and then he fussed all. morning. long for a snack. Even after he'd been given snacks.
He has a terrible, terrible diaper rash, so changes have been pretty miserable too. (Yep, that's right, so far sleep issues, eating issues, and diaper issues). As I was changing the second poop of the day, he squirmed and wrangled like a worm, causing me to get poop all over my hand. Lovely.
When I thought of my husband, who was able to ride in his car to school, with either the radio on or blissful peace and quiet, I was jealous. When I thought about the fact that he'd showered today, and hadn't spent his time cooking and cleaning, I was envious. When I scarfed down food in between picking up carrots off the floor, and wiping up ejected oatmeal, I struggled.
Being at home with Eli is a blessing. It is one I am incredibly thankful for. There are days where we have so much fun together and with friends I can't believe that I get to do this all the time. And then, there are days like today. I know this seems like a bit of a whining/complaining post, and I suppose, it is. But I don't write it to whine or complain. I write it to be real, and honest, and so that people know I'm not little miss perfect mom (in case anyone was actually under that illusion in the first place). I write it because I sometimes struggle when I think about moms who seem to have it all together, who appear to have perfect, peaceful families - like something out of a book or movie. I write this because, even though I wish no ill-will on anyone, there is something comforting in knowing that we all have days like this - and that's ok.
No matter what our profession, paid or unpaid, we all have good and bad days. Today has been a bad one so far. At least it's in the minority :)
The truth is, staying home (while a blessing, and something I wouldn't trade for the world), is work. It is hard work, and there are difficult days. And today, my friends, is one of them.
Last night, Eli woke up at 2:30am. This was a bit out of character for him, but I was gone at bedtime, so I nursed him about an hour and a half before he went down, which, JP said, wasn't super smooth. I thought maybe that was throwing him off, so I nursed him. Then, he was up again at 4, this time screaming unconsolably until approximately 5:30. JP and I took turns tending to him, let him cry a bit, and tried all we could do to calm him down. Finally, by 6:00, we were all back to sleep.
Then, Eli slept until 10:15. That might sound glorious, except that today was one of just two days we had plans during the day, and I was oh so looking forward to get out of the house. Unfortunately, BSF started at 9:30 - so we missed it. I was grumpy about my lack of sleep and my plans falling through before my feet even hit the floor. And it only got worse.
Eli has been especially difficult about food again lately. I feel like I have been in the kitchen as much as a chef trying to make healthy options for him to eat, but he's been exceptionally picky. This morning I made oatmeal. He wouldn't touch it (just as he wouldn't touch the broccoli or chili I made Monday, or even the yogurt he had yesterday). He spit it out and tried to throw the spoon. All he'd eat was a banana and then he fussed all. morning. long for a snack. Even after he'd been given snacks.
He has a terrible, terrible diaper rash, so changes have been pretty miserable too. (Yep, that's right, so far sleep issues, eating issues, and diaper issues). As I was changing the second poop of the day, he squirmed and wrangled like a worm, causing me to get poop all over my hand. Lovely.
When I thought of my husband, who was able to ride in his car to school, with either the radio on or blissful peace and quiet, I was jealous. When I thought about the fact that he'd showered today, and hadn't spent his time cooking and cleaning, I was envious. When I scarfed down food in between picking up carrots off the floor, and wiping up ejected oatmeal, I struggled.
Being at home with Eli is a blessing. It is one I am incredibly thankful for. There are days where we have so much fun together and with friends I can't believe that I get to do this all the time. And then, there are days like today. I know this seems like a bit of a whining/complaining post, and I suppose, it is. But I don't write it to whine or complain. I write it to be real, and honest, and so that people know I'm not little miss perfect mom (in case anyone was actually under that illusion in the first place). I write it because I sometimes struggle when I think about moms who seem to have it all together, who appear to have perfect, peaceful families - like something out of a book or movie. I write this because, even though I wish no ill-will on anyone, there is something comforting in knowing that we all have days like this - and that's ok.
No matter what our profession, paid or unpaid, we all have good and bad days. Today has been a bad one so far. At least it's in the minority :)
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
How being sick has helped me feel more "at home"
Before JP and I moved to Charlotte, a friend from home gave me a stained-glass hanging that says "The Lord is with you wherever you go. Joshua 1:9". It hangs in our kitchen as a constant reminder that even though we're in a new place, God is as much here as He was back home.
It's no big secret that this move hasn't been an easy one for us. JP and I loved Charlottesville. We loved the area - the beauty of the mountains, the culture of the town, and familiarity of our surroundings. Even more though, we loved the people - family and college friends, co-workers and our close community at Charlottesville Community Church. It was scary to think of starting over. Five months later, I still don't quite think of this as "home" - but we're getting closer. And after this weekend, I KNOW that God truly is with us wherever we go. He has shown us His presence through some amazing people, who truly were His hands and feet for us this weekend.
This weekend is perhaps the absolute worst I can remember. JP and I both got sick - sicker than either of us has been in the entirety of our marriage (6 years this June) - at the exact. same. time. We're not talking a debilitating cold, or a bit of an upset stomach. We are talking all out, full blown, crazy serious sickness. I'll spare you the grimy details, but know NOTHING stayed in my system for over 48 hrs. Know that I was on the bathroom floor by the space heater asleep because I had a terrible case of the chills, only to wake up with a vicious case of the sweats. Know that I yelled for water, but my husband couldn't make it to the bathroom to bring me anything because standing up made him get sick. Know that bowls were toted around because making it to the bathroom often didn't happen. Know that eventually, we did end up in the hospital because I was dehydrated (and that I looked in the mirror at the hospital, for the first time in hours, and asked JP "You let me come out of the house looking like that??") Yep, it was that kind of a weekend.
Had I been at home, the solution would have been simple. One phone call and a 35 minute drive, and my momma would have been at my house with everything I needed. She would have taken care of us, and Eli, and my apartment wouldn't be the train wreck it is right now because she'd have kept things in tip-top shape. And, to be fair, had it not been snowing when she found out about things Saturday, she would have been in the car and on her way (though the time would have been 4 hrs, instead of 35 min). Without family here, and in complete desperation (read, bathroom floor), I did the only thing I could think - I posted on Facebook a plea for Gatorade.
And it was answered. An amazing woman from my MOPS group responded, left her home and family, went to the store and bought us Gatorade and brought it to our place. At 11pm at night. In the snow. I consumed 32oz like it was my job, and my husband did likewise. We caught a bit of relief and went to sleep before waking up with more sickness.
The next morning, another lovely MOPS lady brought Tylenol, soup, crackers, and more Gatorade. She had texted an offer the night before, and though I only asked for Tylenol, she made sure we were set on all sorts of sickness staples.
Then, I received yet ANOTHER text from a 3rd sweet friend, offering to bring anything we needed, or to watch Eli for the afternoon. This friend has not one, or two, but THREE children of her own, and she was watching two MORE for another friend who was in the hospital having a baby. Yet she was willing to take on another (ie. #6) in order to serve my family. (Thankfully, by Sunday afternoon JP was better and could tend to taking care of me).
Still, I was really sick, and by the evening, the hospital trip was a necessity. However, someone needed to stay with Eli. We called our dear friends, and immediately, they agreed to come stay with Eli, so JP could be with me at the hospital.
Other friends messaged me, letting me know their willingness to bring things, watch Eli, or help in any way needed. Some of these offers came from people I've had the chance to get together with a few times, people that I'm growing friendships with. Other offers came from people that, quite honestly, I barely know - from people at my MOPS group that I may have had a conversation or two with. But they are drawn to show compassion and love to me, not because of our close relationship, but because they have a relationship with the One who is the source of all love and compassion. Despite feeling so terrible, it has been a long, long time since my heart has been so full. I was so deeply touched and moved by these gestures of kindness toward my family, that it has changed my outlook on being in this new place.
We may not feel completely settled and relationships might not be as deep as we'd like, but we do have community here. We may not be around family and old friends, or have a church home, but we are surrounded by the body of Christ.
We're going to be just fine here in Charlotte. "The Lord is with you (and us) wherever you (we) go". Joshua 1:9.
It's no big secret that this move hasn't been an easy one for us. JP and I loved Charlottesville. We loved the area - the beauty of the mountains, the culture of the town, and familiarity of our surroundings. Even more though, we loved the people - family and college friends, co-workers and our close community at Charlottesville Community Church. It was scary to think of starting over. Five months later, I still don't quite think of this as "home" - but we're getting closer. And after this weekend, I KNOW that God truly is with us wherever we go. He has shown us His presence through some amazing people, who truly were His hands and feet for us this weekend.
This weekend is perhaps the absolute worst I can remember. JP and I both got sick - sicker than either of us has been in the entirety of our marriage (6 years this June) - at the exact. same. time. We're not talking a debilitating cold, or a bit of an upset stomach. We are talking all out, full blown, crazy serious sickness. I'll spare you the grimy details, but know NOTHING stayed in my system for over 48 hrs. Know that I was on the bathroom floor by the space heater asleep because I had a terrible case of the chills, only to wake up with a vicious case of the sweats. Know that I yelled for water, but my husband couldn't make it to the bathroom to bring me anything because standing up made him get sick. Know that bowls were toted around because making it to the bathroom often didn't happen. Know that eventually, we did end up in the hospital because I was dehydrated (and that I looked in the mirror at the hospital, for the first time in hours, and asked JP "You let me come out of the house looking like that??") Yep, it was that kind of a weekend.
Had I been at home, the solution would have been simple. One phone call and a 35 minute drive, and my momma would have been at my house with everything I needed. She would have taken care of us, and Eli, and my apartment wouldn't be the train wreck it is right now because she'd have kept things in tip-top shape. And, to be fair, had it not been snowing when she found out about things Saturday, she would have been in the car and on her way (though the time would have been 4 hrs, instead of 35 min). Without family here, and in complete desperation (read, bathroom floor), I did the only thing I could think - I posted on Facebook a plea for Gatorade.
And it was answered. An amazing woman from my MOPS group responded, left her home and family, went to the store and bought us Gatorade and brought it to our place. At 11pm at night. In the snow. I consumed 32oz like it was my job, and my husband did likewise. We caught a bit of relief and went to sleep before waking up with more sickness.
The next morning, another lovely MOPS lady brought Tylenol, soup, crackers, and more Gatorade. She had texted an offer the night before, and though I only asked for Tylenol, she made sure we were set on all sorts of sickness staples.
Then, I received yet ANOTHER text from a 3rd sweet friend, offering to bring anything we needed, or to watch Eli for the afternoon. This friend has not one, or two, but THREE children of her own, and she was watching two MORE for another friend who was in the hospital having a baby. Yet she was willing to take on another (ie. #6) in order to serve my family. (Thankfully, by Sunday afternoon JP was better and could tend to taking care of me).
Still, I was really sick, and by the evening, the hospital trip was a necessity. However, someone needed to stay with Eli. We called our dear friends, and immediately, they agreed to come stay with Eli, so JP could be with me at the hospital.
Other friends messaged me, letting me know their willingness to bring things, watch Eli, or help in any way needed. Some of these offers came from people I've had the chance to get together with a few times, people that I'm growing friendships with. Other offers came from people that, quite honestly, I barely know - from people at my MOPS group that I may have had a conversation or two with. But they are drawn to show compassion and love to me, not because of our close relationship, but because they have a relationship with the One who is the source of all love and compassion. Despite feeling so terrible, it has been a long, long time since my heart has been so full. I was so deeply touched and moved by these gestures of kindness toward my family, that it has changed my outlook on being in this new place.
We may not feel completely settled and relationships might not be as deep as we'd like, but we do have community here. We may not be around family and old friends, or have a church home, but we are surrounded by the body of Christ.
We're going to be just fine here in Charlotte. "The Lord is with you (and us) wherever you (we) go". Joshua 1:9.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Our no budget Valentines Day...
I have a secret: I love Valentines Day. I have for the last 11 years. The reason I love Valentines day is mostly that I love Love LOVE my Valentine!
I remember being in middle school and the beginning of high school and feeling SO sad when the girls with "boyfriends" got flowers, candy and stuffed animals and I didn't. One year, a guy who was a friend of mine brought in Oreos and we celebrated by attempting to eat the whole pack (um, gross). I was never a very big fan of the "Hallmark holiday" until I was a 15 year old junior in high school and I had a boyfriend of my own. Finally, I got to celebrate too. And we've celebrated together every single year since. He's my forever Valentines.
I'll stop with the mushy, lest you get sick and not make it to the end of the post. Each year on this day, people feel the need to express their opinions about Valentine's Day. Facebook is full of pictures of flowers, candy and cards, along with gripes and complaints about this "fake" holiday. One of the things I've read a lot, from both singles and people in relationships, is the complaint that this is just a stupid, made up, Hallmark holiday that is all about consumerism and materialism. My friends, it DOESN'T have to be.
My day has been amazing. It started with a scrumptious breakfast in bed. The hubs whipped up some delicious scrambled eggs, complete with cheese and yummy veggies. He also toasted a whole grain english muffin, and made scrumptious cinnamon apples. I enjoyed breakfast, we spent a bit of time together, and then we were off - me to a playdate, and him to class.
However, it appears as though, in between classes, he decided to do a little cleaning in the apartment. We didn't quite get all the toys picked up in Eli's room yesterday (or the books he'd pulled down for the 15068th time), but when I came home, the room was spotless, a Valentines Day board book (that Eli had been given last year) sitting in the rocking chair. All the breakfast mess was cleaned up (we had both left it because we had places to be this morning), and the apartment looked great. Yesterday, when talking about what I'd done in the house he asked "so what chores do you have left for the week?" - vacuuming and moping the kitchen were the only two left - and he did both!! So, instead of coming home to a chore list, I fed Eli lunch, had a meal of my own, put him down for a nap, and have been able to relax ever since, enjoying neat and tidy surroundings.
The rest of our day will most likely be pretty casual. We'll enjoy a yummy meal at home (he's making steaks on the grill and I'll bake potatoes and make a salad). We won't get each other cards, but will write in our "letter notebooks" (We made notebooks and we write notes to each other in them for holidays, anniversaries, just because - that way we have all the sweet notes in one place, instead of in a million cards. The messages come 100% from the other person, not Hallmark, and we don't have cost of cards. A good idea, if I do say so myself). We won't give gifts (other than the small thing of chocolate I did buy him), but will enjoy time spent together. It's already been, and I'm sure it will continue to be a great day.
I love Valentines Day because of who I spend it with, and because we go out of our way to make each other feel loved. But not just one day a year. He makes "Saturday breakfast" almost every week with Eli in the carrier or on the floor so that I can have a relaxed morning. I go through the Chic Fil A drive through sometimes and get him a chocolate chip cookie because they are his favorite. He surprises me now and then by doing one of the "chores" that I'm typically responsible for. I pack his lunch daily and sometimes put in a sweet note. We might do a little more on February 14th, but it's not Tiffany's jewelry and an expensive meal. We tend to have low (or no) budget Valentine's Days, and I love them, so much, because of who I get to spend them with.
I remember being in middle school and the beginning of high school and feeling SO sad when the girls with "boyfriends" got flowers, candy and stuffed animals and I didn't. One year, a guy who was a friend of mine brought in Oreos and we celebrated by attempting to eat the whole pack (um, gross). I was never a very big fan of the "Hallmark holiday" until I was a 15 year old junior in high school and I had a boyfriend of my own. Finally, I got to celebrate too. And we've celebrated together every single year since. He's my forever Valentines.
I'll stop with the mushy, lest you get sick and not make it to the end of the post. Each year on this day, people feel the need to express their opinions about Valentine's Day. Facebook is full of pictures of flowers, candy and cards, along with gripes and complaints about this "fake" holiday. One of the things I've read a lot, from both singles and people in relationships, is the complaint that this is just a stupid, made up, Hallmark holiday that is all about consumerism and materialism. My friends, it DOESN'T have to be.
My day has been amazing. It started with a scrumptious breakfast in bed. The hubs whipped up some delicious scrambled eggs, complete with cheese and yummy veggies. He also toasted a whole grain english muffin, and made scrumptious cinnamon apples. I enjoyed breakfast, we spent a bit of time together, and then we were off - me to a playdate, and him to class.
However, it appears as though, in between classes, he decided to do a little cleaning in the apartment. We didn't quite get all the toys picked up in Eli's room yesterday (or the books he'd pulled down for the 15068th time), but when I came home, the room was spotless, a Valentines Day board book (that Eli had been given last year) sitting in the rocking chair. All the breakfast mess was cleaned up (we had both left it because we had places to be this morning), and the apartment looked great. Yesterday, when talking about what I'd done in the house he asked "so what chores do you have left for the week?" - vacuuming and moping the kitchen were the only two left - and he did both!! So, instead of coming home to a chore list, I fed Eli lunch, had a meal of my own, put him down for a nap, and have been able to relax ever since, enjoying neat and tidy surroundings.
The rest of our day will most likely be pretty casual. We'll enjoy a yummy meal at home (he's making steaks on the grill and I'll bake potatoes and make a salad). We won't get each other cards, but will write in our "letter notebooks" (We made notebooks and we write notes to each other in them for holidays, anniversaries, just because - that way we have all the sweet notes in one place, instead of in a million cards. The messages come 100% from the other person, not Hallmark, and we don't have cost of cards. A good idea, if I do say so myself). We won't give gifts (other than the small thing of chocolate I did buy him), but will enjoy time spent together. It's already been, and I'm sure it will continue to be a great day.
I love Valentines Day because of who I spend it with, and because we go out of our way to make each other feel loved. But not just one day a year. He makes "Saturday breakfast" almost every week with Eli in the carrier or on the floor so that I can have a relaxed morning. I go through the Chic Fil A drive through sometimes and get him a chocolate chip cookie because they are his favorite. He surprises me now and then by doing one of the "chores" that I'm typically responsible for. I pack his lunch daily and sometimes put in a sweet note. We might do a little more on February 14th, but it's not Tiffany's jewelry and an expensive meal. We tend to have low (or no) budget Valentine's Days, and I love them, so much, because of who I get to spend them with.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Not a house, but a home
When JP and I first started thinking about living somewhere other than Charlottesville, I was scared. We had prayed that God would provide for me to be able to stay at home with Eli, but my *real* prayer was "let me stay home, here, in Charlottesville, around my friends and family, in our townhouse". God was faithful - he provided JP with paid tuition and a small stipend, the house sold in 17 days, and the money that we had saved thinking we'd have to pay for school was available for living expenses. God, had answered our prayer - but not in the way I had secretly hoped. I was going to get to stay home, but not in the home we had come to know and love. We would have to move.
Once we found out we were moving to Charlotte, we began looking for housing options in the area around JP's school. Initially, we had hoped to be able to rent a house. We knew it'd have to be a smallish one, but hoped for detached walls and a place that could be "our own". However, we soon realized that we wouldn't have that option. On our graduate student/stay-at-home mom budget, a small apartment was all we could afford. So we signed a lease.
Up until we moved, and for a short time after, I was really grouchy about it. I didn't say much to JP, or to anyone else, but inside I was down. It seemed like while everyone else was making the transition from apartment, to starter home, to dream house, we were going in the opposite direction. We had owned our own place, a townhouse that we loved, and now we were renting an apartment - that we didn't love - in a place we didn't even *really* want to be.
We settled in quickly with the help of family and friends, and my husband, in his usual fashion, had every picture hung on the day after he moved in. Though the walls couldn't be painted, they were adorned with the same pictures, canvases and shelves that had graced our place at 1948 Tudor Ct. When I did our first grocery run in the new place, my dad bought me fresh flowers, which I put in a vase on our dining room table. We worked hard at making the little apartment a home.
And now, five months later, it truly HAS become a home. In fact, I sometimes feel like this is more of a home than any place we have ever lived in. It is as spacious and well decorated as our townhouse? No. Is it in a place we love as much as the one we moved from? Certainly not.
But, in this home, my son and I spend most of our days. In this place, I am less tired and weary from putting 100% of my time and energy into my job and coming home barely running on empty. In this apartment, I am much more focused on my husband and my son, giving them as much of myself as I can give. I am able to spend the time and effort on them that I simply wasn't able to do before, and I love it. Even though in many ways it has been hard, I know that I wouldn't go back if I could. Not for a second.
There are still days I get on Pinterest and see pins under "our home" where people have selected colors of flooring, paint for the walls and furniture for rooms. Sometimes, I am tempted to become jealous and long for those things myself. I do hope, one day, for a little house of our own where we can (hopefully) put down some roots. However, for now, I will enjoy this little apartment, and the time I spend with my family inside it's walls. It may not be a house, but it is our home. And I am grateful for it.
Once we found out we were moving to Charlotte, we began looking for housing options in the area around JP's school. Initially, we had hoped to be able to rent a house. We knew it'd have to be a smallish one, but hoped for detached walls and a place that could be "our own". However, we soon realized that we wouldn't have that option. On our graduate student/stay-at-home mom budget, a small apartment was all we could afford. So we signed a lease.
Up until we moved, and for a short time after, I was really grouchy about it. I didn't say much to JP, or to anyone else, but inside I was down. It seemed like while everyone else was making the transition from apartment, to starter home, to dream house, we were going in the opposite direction. We had owned our own place, a townhouse that we loved, and now we were renting an apartment - that we didn't love - in a place we didn't even *really* want to be.
We settled in quickly with the help of family and friends, and my husband, in his usual fashion, had every picture hung on the day after he moved in. Though the walls couldn't be painted, they were adorned with the same pictures, canvases and shelves that had graced our place at 1948 Tudor Ct. When I did our first grocery run in the new place, my dad bought me fresh flowers, which I put in a vase on our dining room table. We worked hard at making the little apartment a home.
And now, five months later, it truly HAS become a home. In fact, I sometimes feel like this is more of a home than any place we have ever lived in. It is as spacious and well decorated as our townhouse? No. Is it in a place we love as much as the one we moved from? Certainly not.
But, in this home, my son and I spend most of our days. In this place, I am less tired and weary from putting 100% of my time and energy into my job and coming home barely running on empty. In this apartment, I am much more focused on my husband and my son, giving them as much of myself as I can give. I am able to spend the time and effort on them that I simply wasn't able to do before, and I love it. Even though in many ways it has been hard, I know that I wouldn't go back if I could. Not for a second.
There are still days I get on Pinterest and see pins under "our home" where people have selected colors of flooring, paint for the walls and furniture for rooms. Sometimes, I am tempted to become jealous and long for those things myself. I do hope, one day, for a little house of our own where we can (hopefully) put down some roots. However, for now, I will enjoy this little apartment, and the time I spend with my family inside it's walls. It may not be a house, but it is our home. And I am grateful for it.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
"Stop the glorification of busy"
My husband sometimes (very kindly) remarks that I am
“wasting time” on Pinterest. It’s true,
the website can sometimes be like Facebook – a black hole that sucks you into
nothingness. However, it can also prove
quite useful. I haven’t been on
Pinterest that long, and already is
has resulted in the (successful) making of homemade yogurt, bread, cute
handprint paintings and several new scrumptious meals. This doesn’t include the many other ideas
that are waiting for me…
But, perhaps the best thing I’ve seen on Pinterest is the
words quoted in this post’s title: “Stop
the glorification of busy”. I admit, I
find it a bit ironic that the words have been pinned several times – on a
website that makes you feel a bit guilty if you aren’t making everything that
goes on your table homemade and from scratch, your house isn’t full of DIY
perfection, amazing décor, and practical storage solutions and your kids days
aren’t perfectly scheduled with developmentally appropriate activities and
craft time. Pinterest, it could be
argued, it a site that inspires busyness.
But, ironic or not, it is where I stumbled upon these few words that
have settled deep into my heart.
I glorify business. I
absolutely do. I think it’s a product of
the culture we’re living in. I remember
being in college and “competing” about who was more exhausted, who had the most
work to do, and whose extracurricular activity list was that longest. Of course, it wasn’t an actual competition,
but the conversation went something like this:
Me: “I’m so
tired. I didn’t get to bed until after
2am last night.”
Friend: “I was up until 4.”
Me: “It’s a really
rough week, I have two papers due and an exam.”
Friend: “I have two
papers and two exams.”
Me: “Well, I also have
small group I’m leading this week, and a meeting to go to, plus volunteering…”
You get the point.
These conversations happened all. the. time. And, guilty as anyone, I participated.
Even still, it continues.
People seem to feel more important and significant when they have full
planners and rattle of countless activities.
I’ve had people share that they are stressed from the things on their
plate but they liked being able to say “I do this and this and this.” Please don’t think I am speaking
condemningly, as if I am Miss High and Mighty Above this Issue. I’m not.
Though, currently, I have the opposite problem.
I have jokingly told many people I was born in the wrong
time period. I love staying home with my
son, focusing on our family and home. I
love that, at one point in history, that was the expectation for women and
totally accepted (and the economy didn’t dictate the need/push for the
two-income home). I would have done well in
that time.
Now, I struggle with “is what I’m doing enough?”. I CONSTANTLY look at moms who are, in
addition to staying home all day with their children, running successful
businesses from their homes, writing books, coaching, mentoring, etc. I’m content not having those things on my
plate, but often feel like my life and role isn’t valuable because I’m not “doing
enough”.
It’s largely the result of believing the lie – buying into
the glorification of busy. Don’t get me
wrong, I enjoy having things to do – but I want them to be things like
spontaneously taking Eli to the park because it’s a beautiful day, reading for
a little longer than normal, having a home that runs smoothly because I have
the time to tend to it. I guess I just
want to be busy about the RIGHT things (for me) and not be busy for busys sake
(or because I feel like I need to be).
Being busier doesn’t make us more significant, better or
glamorous. For me, when I get too busy, I tend to become a stressed
out mess of a human being (it’s true, ask my husband). So, I am going to try to be careful about the
things I do – choosing wisely where to devote my time. I will stop the glorification on busy in my
life.
So now, instead of getting back on Pinterest and figure out what else I
need to do to be more awesome - I think I’ll just go to sleep.
Monday, January 14, 2013
This kid is obsessed with books (Eli update)
"This tiny hippopotamus has something small to say, and if we're very quiet now he'll say it right away. Listen. 'Be Bo'. You might not know what 'BeBo means, or maybe you've forgotten, it's just the tiny hippo way of saying belly button."
Ok, I'll stop there. I can quote for you the entirety of Sandra Boynton's "Belly Button Book", along with numerous other books, but I'll spare you all.
I thought I'd do a little update on Eli overall. I've posted about his food fights and such, but thought I'd do a more general "here's what he's up to post". And that, my friends, begins with books. The kid is OBSESSED. "Book" was one of Eli's first words (I think it came right after mama and dada). Anyhow, I spent the morning him reading no less (and likely a few more) than 25 books. He finds them, brings them to me and says "book" over and over until I read it. Then, often, as soon as the book is closed, he grabs it, thrusts it at me again, and insists that once just isn't enough. We have several books that were read multiple (up to five) times this morning. I hid Hippos Go Berserk (um, mommy was the one going berserk).
Despite the fact that it is sometimes annoying, I love that he's a little reader :). He is his parent's child in that area, for sure. He will often sit with books along and turn their pages. Still, being read to is his all time favorite activity. I have, on occasion tried to see how long he would sit on my lap and allow me to read, just to check his attention span. I broke before he did (at like 12 books - craziness!)
In other news, Eli:
- is an extremely verbal child. He knows/says close approximately 30 words. Not all of them are crystal clear, but he has that many words that JP and I KNOW what he is talking about. The list includes: mama, dada, book, duck, cat (pronouced gat), hat (at), yogurt (gurt), bottle (aka sippy cup, pronounced bah), button (buh), dog, Nana (for my mom, and banana), Lala (for his Auntie Allison), snow (no), star (dar), light (another obsession), nose (no - will point to it!), mouth (mou - points), ear (points), bye bye, night night (ny ny), baby (sometimes pronounced correctly, sometimes says "be" - this is what he calls himself when he sees himself in the mirror), mum mums (the snack), puffs (says buh). Anyhow, that's a pretty full, but not necessarily exhaustive list. It is SO much fun that we're able to communicate, even if just a little :)
- eats well on the whole. I know the last post was doom and gloom about his eating, but overall, he does well. I hope it continues!
- has never been a fantastic sleeper. He goes through phases where he does SO well, but then seems to regress.
- is not at mobile as he is verbal. He's got a push toy that he likes, and will walk with that, but doesn't seem to have too much interest in trying to walk on his own. He has JUST started to walk holding our hands (he used to let his legs give out), so that's some progress I guess. JP is sometimes afraid Eli won't ever walk. I am enjoying him not being AS mobile as I know he soon will be (the fast crawling is good enough). Plus it makes him feel more like my little baby.
- is doing cute new things all the time. He LOVES to play peekaboo, and will initiate this game often. He has also (sometimes) started laying down and saying "ny ny" when he's tired. LOVE it when he does this. He LOVES playing with Ollie, though he has gotten confused and started calling him a cat (he used to call him a dog, at my parents, when we was outside. And he learned cat at my in-laws, who have inside cats. I think Eli must reason that since Ollie is inside, he's now a cat. We're trying to convince him Ollie is, in fact, a dog, but he's not buying it).
- often asks for either JP or I. SOOOO cute. Sometimes JP will go get him from a nap and he will say "mama" over and over (um, he also did this during the prayer when we visited a new church on Saturday night - oops). At any rate, it melts. my. heart.
- now has 6 teeth, 2 more are in the process of coming in
- doesn't particularly like many other toys (besides books). He's enjoying a stacking toy he got for Christmas, and likes pulling the pieces out of his puzzle. That's about it. He is interested in the shape sorter, but seems to get frustrated when the pieces don't fit (same when he tries to stack blocks but doesn't have the coordination to make them sit on one another).
Even on mornings when I have to read books over and over, after having not gotten the best night's sleep, and then I have to fight him about a nap, I love that child enough that I often feel I'll burst. He is such a sweet sweet little joy. We are so blessed with him and enjoy seeing him grow and develop every day!
Ok, I'll stop there. I can quote for you the entirety of Sandra Boynton's "Belly Button Book", along with numerous other books, but I'll spare you all.
I thought I'd do a little update on Eli overall. I've posted about his food fights and such, but thought I'd do a more general "here's what he's up to post". And that, my friends, begins with books. The kid is OBSESSED. "Book" was one of Eli's first words (I think it came right after mama and dada). Anyhow, I spent the morning him reading no less (and likely a few more) than 25 books. He finds them, brings them to me and says "book" over and over until I read it. Then, often, as soon as the book is closed, he grabs it, thrusts it at me again, and insists that once just isn't enough. We have several books that were read multiple (up to five) times this morning. I hid Hippos Go Berserk (um, mommy was the one going berserk).
Despite the fact that it is sometimes annoying, I love that he's a little reader :). He is his parent's child in that area, for sure. He will often sit with books along and turn their pages. Still, being read to is his all time favorite activity. I have, on occasion tried to see how long he would sit on my lap and allow me to read, just to check his attention span. I broke before he did (at like 12 books - craziness!)
In other news, Eli:
- is an extremely verbal child. He knows/says close approximately 30 words. Not all of them are crystal clear, but he has that many words that JP and I KNOW what he is talking about. The list includes: mama, dada, book, duck, cat (pronouced gat), hat (at), yogurt (gurt), bottle (aka sippy cup, pronounced bah), button (buh), dog, Nana (for my mom, and banana), Lala (for his Auntie Allison), snow (no), star (dar), light (another obsession), nose (no - will point to it!), mouth (mou - points), ear (points), bye bye, night night (ny ny), baby (sometimes pronounced correctly, sometimes says "be" - this is what he calls himself when he sees himself in the mirror), mum mums (the snack), puffs (says buh). Anyhow, that's a pretty full, but not necessarily exhaustive list. It is SO much fun that we're able to communicate, even if just a little :)
- eats well on the whole. I know the last post was doom and gloom about his eating, but overall, he does well. I hope it continues!
- has never been a fantastic sleeper. He goes through phases where he does SO well, but then seems to regress.
- is not at mobile as he is verbal. He's got a push toy that he likes, and will walk with that, but doesn't seem to have too much interest in trying to walk on his own. He has JUST started to walk holding our hands (he used to let his legs give out), so that's some progress I guess. JP is sometimes afraid Eli won't ever walk. I am enjoying him not being AS mobile as I know he soon will be (the fast crawling is good enough). Plus it makes him feel more like my little baby.
- is doing cute new things all the time. He LOVES to play peekaboo, and will initiate this game often. He has also (sometimes) started laying down and saying "ny ny" when he's tired. LOVE it when he does this. He LOVES playing with Ollie, though he has gotten confused and started calling him a cat (he used to call him a dog, at my parents, when we was outside. And he learned cat at my in-laws, who have inside cats. I think Eli must reason that since Ollie is inside, he's now a cat. We're trying to convince him Ollie is, in fact, a dog, but he's not buying it).
- often asks for either JP or I. SOOOO cute. Sometimes JP will go get him from a nap and he will say "mama" over and over (um, he also did this during the prayer when we visited a new church on Saturday night - oops). At any rate, it melts. my. heart.
- now has 6 teeth, 2 more are in the process of coming in
- doesn't particularly like many other toys (besides books). He's enjoying a stacking toy he got for Christmas, and likes pulling the pieces out of his puzzle. That's about it. He is interested in the shape sorter, but seems to get frustrated when the pieces don't fit (same when he tries to stack blocks but doesn't have the coordination to make them sit on one another).
Even on mornings when I have to read books over and over, after having not gotten the best night's sleep, and then I have to fight him about a nap, I love that child enough that I often feel I'll burst. He is such a sweet sweet little joy. We are so blessed with him and enjoy seeing him grow and develop every day!
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
The time Eli and I had a fight about yogurt...
Yesterday I posted on Facebook about the adorableness of my sweet son. I thought it was so cute that he's developed a favorite food - yogurt (or "gurt" as he likes to call it). Every time we put him in his high chair his request is the same "gurt, gurt, gurt" (he usually says it multiple times, I guess he thinks his parents are slow). Yogurt is a pretty standard food for him at breakfast time, but that's usually it. He has always been fine with that (and readily ate whatever he was given), until recently. In the past week, he's become a bit more finicky (refusing broccoli, zucchini and butternut squash, all of which he LOVED before) and has also started to ask for yogurt. It was kind of cute when we was asking. Tonight he was demanding. And it was NOT cute.
It was dinner time, and I thought we'd start with some chicken, applesauce, whole grain bread and peas - all foods he likes (well, he'll only eat the chicken IN the applesauce, but at any rate). As soon as he got into his chair, the pleas for "gurt" began. I explained to him (for all it's worth explaining anything to a 13 month old) what he was having, and that he could have yogurt if he ate everything else. We proceeded to try a bite of chicken and applesauce. After turning his head, batting the spoon, and squirming like crazy, I finally got a bite in - for all of 2 seconds, before it came right back out. Eli 1, Mom 0. Ok, I thought, maybe he wants to feed himself. I put some bread and zucchini on the tray - and before I knew it, both were on the floor (Ollie appreciate this, I did not - Eli 2, Mom 0). I tried a spoonful of the peas, which had the same fate - out of his mouth and THEN thrown on the floor. Eli 3, Mom 0. Throughout the process I spoke sternly with countless corrections: "No Eli, No" and "We don't spit out/throw our food". I smacked his little hand a few times, HARD, but it didn't phase him. He cried, screamed, spit and threw. It was a disaster.
As I walked to the kitchen to get yogurt (hangs head in shame of defeat), I prayed for patience. I have NEVER been so frustrated with Eli. I was even angry. Didn't he know that I had worked hard to make his dinner? Wasn't he appreciative of the fact that I go to the trouble to see that he has homemade, nutritious food? Didn't he know this was good for him? (The answer to those questions, by the way, is no). Why did this have to be so difficult??
I told my husband today that I miss teaching. I've said this before and it's true (though I don't doubt that the place I'm supposed to be is at home). He asked me why, and I had several answers.
1. I am/was good at teaching
2. There was at least SOME sense of instant gratification. When kids "got it" or their parents sent appreciative emails, I knew I was doing a good job.
3. At least more than being at home, I was in control.
I think God has used Eli to teach me that I am not in control (um, hello surprise pregnancy) and that I need to depend on Him. I can make healthy, nutritious food, but I can't force my son to eat it. I can do my best to set up a good sleep schedule, and be home for his naps, but I can't make him sleep. I can discipline him, train him, and teach him about the Lord - but I can't make him behave and I certainly can't make him believe. It's humbling, for sure. Sometimes I think about how well Eli's doing - that heis was? a good eater, that he's SO vocal, that he sleeps well (most of the time), and I think I'm doing a good job. Other times, like tonight, I feel like a colossal failure. I realize how very little I know about being a mom, and how much I have to learn.
But, honestly, I think that's a good place to be. So, as I fed Eli his dinner (which, he ate all of - a spoon full of yogurt, applesauce/chicken, peas, and piece of bread - rinse and repeat), I thought about my great need for God's help with all of this. It's a good thing He's faithful :).
Here's hoping (and praying!) that Eli goes back to being my fabulous eater. In the meantime, maybe the "one bite of everything" trick will work. Also, I tried making homemade yogurt today. Let's hope it works and turns out well. If my son is going to have to eat it at EVERY meal, I'm sure going to need it :)
It was dinner time, and I thought we'd start with some chicken, applesauce, whole grain bread and peas - all foods he likes (well, he'll only eat the chicken IN the applesauce, but at any rate). As soon as he got into his chair, the pleas for "gurt" began. I explained to him (for all it's worth explaining anything to a 13 month old) what he was having, and that he could have yogurt if he ate everything else. We proceeded to try a bite of chicken and applesauce. After turning his head, batting the spoon, and squirming like crazy, I finally got a bite in - for all of 2 seconds, before it came right back out. Eli 1, Mom 0. Ok, I thought, maybe he wants to feed himself. I put some bread and zucchini on the tray - and before I knew it, both were on the floor (Ollie appreciate this, I did not - Eli 2, Mom 0). I tried a spoonful of the peas, which had the same fate - out of his mouth and THEN thrown on the floor. Eli 3, Mom 0. Throughout the process I spoke sternly with countless corrections: "No Eli, No" and "We don't spit out/throw our food". I smacked his little hand a few times, HARD, but it didn't phase him. He cried, screamed, spit and threw. It was a disaster.
As I walked to the kitchen to get yogurt (hangs head in shame of defeat), I prayed for patience. I have NEVER been so frustrated with Eli. I was even angry. Didn't he know that I had worked hard to make his dinner? Wasn't he appreciative of the fact that I go to the trouble to see that he has homemade, nutritious food? Didn't he know this was good for him? (The answer to those questions, by the way, is no). Why did this have to be so difficult??
I told my husband today that I miss teaching. I've said this before and it's true (though I don't doubt that the place I'm supposed to be is at home). He asked me why, and I had several answers.
1. I am/was good at teaching
2. There was at least SOME sense of instant gratification. When kids "got it" or their parents sent appreciative emails, I knew I was doing a good job.
3. At least more than being at home, I was in control.
I think God has used Eli to teach me that I am not in control (um, hello surprise pregnancy) and that I need to depend on Him. I can make healthy, nutritious food, but I can't force my son to eat it. I can do my best to set up a good sleep schedule, and be home for his naps, but I can't make him sleep. I can discipline him, train him, and teach him about the Lord - but I can't make him behave and I certainly can't make him believe. It's humbling, for sure. Sometimes I think about how well Eli's doing - that he
But, honestly, I think that's a good place to be. So, as I fed Eli his dinner (which, he ate all of - a spoon full of yogurt, applesauce/chicken, peas, and piece of bread - rinse and repeat), I thought about my great need for God's help with all of this. It's a good thing He's faithful :).
Here's hoping (and praying!) that Eli goes back to being my fabulous eater. In the meantime, maybe the "one bite of everything" trick will work. Also, I tried making homemade yogurt today. Let's hope it works and turns out well. If my son is going to have to eat it at EVERY meal, I'm sure going to need it :)
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