HOME

There are no edges or sharp corners on this baby.  Every line is curved, soft, pillowing.  I find each of them good for looking, rubbing, squeezing and holding.  It’s difficult to hold her without wrapping my fingers around her bread dough thighs, burrowing my nose into her neck, and then rubbing my face against her ripe plum cheeks. I can’t think of a good synonym for her silky skin, it must be why baby skin IS the comparison for anything uber-soft.

Somehow we’ve crossed 7 months between her sweet entrance into our family and now we’ve passed way beyond the line when any of us can imagine life without her.

Can I tell you how glad I am that she is not my first child?  I can see that might take a bit of explaining.  The first year of our first daughter’s life was marked with fear, guilt, a general “What the heck am I doing?!” I read books, felt bad when she cried, felt guilty when I picked her up, felt like a failure when I couldn’t get her to nurse, moved her from contraption to contraption trying to pass the long hours ahead.  I lived from phone call to phone call to my friend who held all the mysterious knowledge. I remember crying(me, not her) and desperate phone calls to Mr. Darcy(who was busy back at his old life at work).  Don’t misunderstand me.  It was at the same time an amazing year of miracles.  But oh how glad I am to be passed the second-guessing and now have a confidence in my instincts(no one told me I had instincts the first few times around).  And I have ENJOYED this baby.  Most people notice she’s a happy, content baby.  I think it’s partially because I’m no longer that neurotic new mother that she has this disposition(now I’m the neurotic mother of four, but in different ways).  Most of my friends with more than one child have a agreed with me.  So that’s why I’m grateful not to be in the season of new motherhood.  And that’s why I’m thankful that I’ve gotten several more chances to settle in to these precious baby months.

Somehow, though, I haven’t gained enough knowledge to stop time.  I already know what will happen.  My eldest reaches the top of my chest.  The months have passed and I can already see the glimmer of the days when I will chase Sparkles about and begin the training part of parenting.  Right now my only job is to nurture her but soon I’ll be called to direct her little heart as well.  I remember this moment approaching with The Boy.  Already The Boy has lost his generous rounds and he’s all angles.  It’s not here quite yet with Sparkles, but soon.

What can I do but keep rubbing, looking, squeezing, carrying, and savoring each passing day?  This baby, she’s got some curves.

1 comment

It’s taken us 4 children and 19 birthdays(wow, nineteen!) to figure out how to mark these special days in a way that celebrates each child individually and allows us as the parents to savor the day as well.

The first years involved parties.  And lots of guests.  And lots of activities.  And a special cake.  And did I mention lots of guests? I remember the day (of the party) that I calculated the list and realized that including the siblings of all of the invited children we’d be receiving over 30 people at our moderate little house.  And we had to feed them.  That day equaled a happy child who couldn’t have cared less about the full house and a stressed out mom who wondered how the day was over so quickly and how she could grab a few moments with the birthday girl(before collapsing on the couch).

I loved creating the themes and the activities and I didn’t mind at all sitting up at midnight putting the final touches together.  It wasn’t the preparation-it was the nagging feeling we were missing something in these overcrowded feasts. This past year we’ve started a different trend:

1. The child wakes up with balloons covering her floor in the morning(this started with the 2nd bday of the eldest and it’s continued to be a family favorite every year).
2. The child gets to pick her menu for the day.
3. She get’s to plan a fun activity and invite a friend to come along.
4. She still gets to pick out a special cake for mom(and kid) to decorate.

I can’t tell you how thrilled we are with this new plan.  Yes, it took some talking to wean the kids off of the big parties.  But we just celebrated Jellybean’s 7th birthday and she said it was her best birthday ever. She said this several times.  And, even though(and I think partly because) she didn’t get a huge pile of presents as she had in the past, she loved and appreciated each gift she did get.  I’ve never heard her say such enthusiastic and repeated thank you’s(unprompted) so many times as I have in the past two days over the 4 gifts she’s received so far.

Her Menu:

• Peach Oatmeal for Breakfast
• Croissant sandwiches and cheetos for lunch
• Beans and Rice/Macaroni and cheese for dinner(she lovingly included the latter for her little brother who hates beans)

The Cake:

A swimming pool cake(that she decorated)

The Activity:

Going swimming(we swam for 3 hours)

It was simply a great day.  She felt special the entire day, had a ball with her sister and her one special friend, and we, the parents, got to savor the smiles and joy rather than just seeing them on the camera later(taken by a relative while we worked in the kitchen or set up a craft).

Let the pictures speak for themselves.

Mookie is already planning a trip to the skating rink and The Boy wants to go bowling.

2 comments

Over my short years of parenting I’ve often been torn between two choices: to be rendered speechless by a bodily act or string of words emitted from my child’s mouth, or to release a few choice(and loud) words myself.  Now, of course, I always take the high road, avoid either of those choices, and respond to any situation with loving, peaceful words. And then we all eat cookies. But let’s pretend for a moment that I do, on occasion, fall into one of the scenarios above.

Which one did I choose today?  Let’s back track.

Our soon to be 7 year old has been pushing the limits of obedience these past few days.

“Jellybean, come here please.”

Repeat 3 times.

“Jellybean, it’s time to do chores.”

Looks of astonishment from the said child, the puffing of a bull, a few stomps down the hallway.

“It’s time to get out of the shower.”

The water turns off.  Ten minutes pass by.

“Jellybean, I said it was time to get out of the shower.”

“Can’t I finish washing the wall?(with half a bottle of the brand new shampoo I purchased the night before).”

“No.”

Today we sat down for a talk.

“What’s going on with you?  These last few days I had to ask you several times before you obey and then sometimes it’s still with an attitude.”

And the she answered, without hesitation, no sign of guilt, in a matter of fact away as if she were announcing what she had for breakfast, “I know, I’ve just been trying to get away with as much as I can.”

What was I to say to that?  In the moment, I remained speechless.

Just between you and me though, I have to admire such gumption,honesty, and understanding of her own self. But I’m not going to tell her that.

Did I mention she head-butted her older sister last week?

2 comments

For my thirty-something birthday, Mr. Darcy gave me my best friend.  Well, technically speaking, he gave me to her.  Baby Sparkles and I boarded a plane and headed off to Texas for  a long weekend.

It was just over a year ago that my bestest friend left Nashville after 9 years of knowing each other. You could say we grew up together even though we didn’t meet until we we’re almost and barely married.  Grew up, you say? But Mrs. Darcy, you’re 30-something years old, you’ve been an adult for a long, loooong time.  I would have to disagree. I would say without a doubt I’ve become an adult inch by inch along the last decade.  Ten stretching years and one best friend who felt the pain, and vice versa.

In the last decade, the Lord has slowly revealed an important truth, a cornerstone in my faith and in becoming an adult.  He’s shown me that there are certain things I can do that make me more the person His hand created me to be.  After years of trying to fit into groups, blend into the other moms, achieve the success the world told me I needed, I’ve stopped.  All of those efforts made me fill thin, or fat, square, or more  like a hexagon, a wrongly shaped piece in the puzzle.  I spent years feeling less me but now I’ve learned a few truths about myself.

I can take care of my household jobs, I won’t ever love them.

I can’t wear the right shoes and I’m not a good shopper and I won’t ever like malls.

I don’t ever want to run a marathon or do an aerobics class, but I still have hopes for a novel (and maybe an oscar)

I don’t need a large house or fancy things, though I’m open to a larger one than our current abode.

I love homeschooling my kids and don’t regret a day of missing out on the P.T.A(I like my kids a lot better than anyone else’s)

These are just a few things about myself that I’ve had to figure out instead of placing upon myself the answer that sounded right.

I feel the most myself in three situations.  1)When I’m creating something.  2)When I’m with my husband.  3)When I’m with my children.  And now, as I reflect on this past weekend and what made it such a wonderful retreat, I can add a fourth.  4)I feel a freedom, a more of myself, when I’m with my best friend.

We’ve walked many roads together.  Marriage, children, friendship, womanhood, and some of the paths have been joyful and some have been downright ugly.  But I’ve never felt judgement.  And she doesn’t know that when she says the same thing about me, I learned it all from her.  I only give her the gift that she first gave me.  When we’re together I feel an acceptance of my weaknesses, a hope toward my strengths and talents, and a joy at just being-me with her.  In the moment.

I greatly miss our stolen hours of coffee and living.  But as a trade I’ll certainly take a nice long weekend of being ourselves together.

Our Friendship By The Numbers

10-the number of years we’ve known each other

20-the number of years we’ve been married, added together

6-the number of children we’ve birthed

3-the number of births that hurt the worst

2-the number of medical conditions that required hospital treatments

500-the approximate number of cups of coffee, hot chocolate, and cookies we’ve consumed on nights out together

5-the number of times we’ve actually sat on the phone and just “chatted”

816-the number of nights that we’ve listened, complained, laughed, and prayed together

Infinity-the number of days left that I will miss her living in Nashville

5 comments