Saturday, October 24, 2015

Bo: The Big ONE



Hooray! Hooray Bo is one year old. We celebrated with family and friends at our house. This is the first celebration we have hosted since moving into this new place last spring. I thought, "smaller house... Might not work as well as parties in the past have." I was SO wrong. I felt about a thousand times more comfortable today than I did at Moose's first birthday party. Now granted, I've lived, learned, and put a few tricks in my pocket in the last 18 months. I'm no longer a rookie mom. I am officially experienced. Weird stuff - not like I'm an expert, but still I feel a bit more confident these days.
Bo's first year:
He has grown so much since he was first born. At one, he is approximately 20 pounds and 30 inches. He started walking at 11 months, and he is babbling like a fool. He will say, "mamamamaam," but he's not very consistent. 
He loves to rough house and wrestle, and it's his favorite to tackle his big brother. I am so happy with his positive spirit. I can't wait to see what the next year has in store for this handsome little dude! 
He is in size 2T tops and 18 month bottoms, 3T pjs (if they are carters... a 2T in most other brands). He is in a size 4 diaper and wears Huggies. He eats anything and everything just about (though ask his Ga, and she will tell you he demands watermelon with fervor.) He is transitioning to whole milk, but he officially made it an entire year on breastmilk (go team!). And this momma needs to start attempting to wean the kid from the bottle - one thing at a time.  



I didn't spend months on Pinterest pre-party. I didn't stress over making food myself. I didn't worry about having a perfect house. (Okay, truth I did get on Pinterest, but not obsessively and not for months and hours on end.) And guess what? We had a perfectly wonderful one year old birthday party today. 

We did the party in the morning - optimal pre-nap happy baby time, and we had donuts, fruit, pigs-in-blankets, juice, milk, and cake. I had simple decor. (Thanks Em for the teepee borrow.) One of the things I had the most fun with was the toy bow and arrows I bought online on a whim. We played with those for a while after everyone left. 

I was so pleased with how Bo and Moose both behaved. I think having it in the morning helped with that a ton. Bo took his time with his cake, but he eventually destroyed it. He has such a vivacious attitude about most things; I thought he would demolish it. Instead, he showed a bit more reserve and relished the sweets. Maybe that is a good sign for my sweet baby tornado. 

Bo got so many toys and a lot of balls. I found myself wondering if the gift givers were disappointed that he got so many balls. He loves each and every one so much. As soon as he woke from his afternoon nap, he threw all of them into the hall and chased and threw and chased and threw them over and over. He was so delighted to have so many. I swear it. He, for real, really loves balls. < -- Does that sound terrible. Poor kid is going to read this at 12, and say, "Mom! How could you have posted that?" Oh well kiddo.

Bo is a live-wire of a boy. He is determined (not stubborn) and doesn't take no for an answer. ;) I pray that one day these qualities help him in his chosen path. He loves to climb and investigate. He is my curious little dude. He loves to play in the dog water and eat whatever happens to be on the floor. 




So big. Too big. Love you kid. 




Tuesday, October 6, 2015

Our Life: Knees & Shows

Today, Sam underwent surgery for his torn meniscus. It was actually a pretty fun day. Yep, you read that right. Since the arrival of our two delightful, bundles of joy, Sam and I have had few days of just us. After Moose, there were some, and there have been a just a handful of evenings in the last year sans kids... I cannot think of a whole actual day spent together without our kiddos, since Bo was born. Today was that.

Days like today are reminders of why I am still so in love with the father of my children (a man who can drive me up a wall at times). Days like today are necessary. 

We arrived at the surgery center in Dallas at 7AM. Count the one hour in the car. We waited in the waiting room for about 40 minutes. Then, they let me come back to sit with Sam before the procedure around 8. We waited for the doctors until around 10. Then, Sam was done, and I was allowed back around 12. Another hour on the way home - and count it up = at least 5 hours of one on one time with the spouse. Woah!!!

And seriously in this situation there's nothing to do but talk and joke and smile and laugh and flirt with each other. Praise the Lord for that, which brings me to a whole other thought-bunny for this post. The Bible is an incredible conversation started. People are unafraid to approach a person wielding Bible. 

Sam and I read several passages from the Bible today and were just talking some of them over. One nurse comes across and asks can you find a scripture for me? So that's totally moving: Isaiah 45:2 is what he asked about. He said, "the one about a crooked path." Found and shared. 

Next up, the doctor before Sam's surgery asks can I pray with you before we go back. The knee surgeon, Dr. Rey, prays this beautiful prayer in his wonderful accent, and I truly feel at ease about the whole thing.

In recovery, our completely different nurse asks, "what were you guys reading in the bible earlier?" 

I love the power of God. I love that just the presence of his word is enough to inspire connection. I am thankful that God is doing work in my life to create in me a boldness for him. What's funny is that after you really have stepped out into these places that other people see as brazen, you realize: it's not so huge. I mean I brought a book with me... Okay it's 100% different than that, but still, I didn't do anything that was daring. I read the Bible with my husband, and yet, in our world that truly is a bold move, now. 

Okay, but back to Sam - they say his knee ought to feel much better by the end of the week. He is doing much much better than I expected. He's kind of ridiculous about pain, though. I don't know, if he feels it like normal people. 

He was back in surgery and recovery without me for about 2.5 hours... Do you know what that means? I got to watch TV! Woah! Another one of those things that almost never happens, and yet there I was, back to back watching two Scandals in a row. What, what? I'm caught up on my Thursday night shows, now. (I'm like a real person or something?)

I am grateful that I don't make the plans in this world because God's timing is always infinitely better than mine ever would be. Today was just what I needed. It was what Sam needed in more than one way. 

He's always terrified that he's going to wake from underneath anesthesia like some ogre and say horrible things... Instead he kept saying, "I love you," " I'm glad you're here," "I like your butt," "which knee? The right knee? The left knee? Or the wee-knee?"... And he told me, "they put that tube down my throat." All these things on repeat over and over. 

When we got in the car, he told me that last one again, and I just giggled. He asked why. Priceless telling a man he's already said that to you 7 times, and he has zero recollection. Even when he could be, he's not an ogre. He's a good husband. Man, even when there's a ton of junk around you, it's awesome, if you can just find your way to the blessings. 





Sunday, October 4, 2015

Our Life: Loss & Love

There are things in life that make us all introspective. Death seems to be one of them. This week my grandmother passed away. My stepdad's momma. She will be so missed. 

My relationship with my Nanny started later on in my life, so I don't have baby memories of her. It seemed this week that it wouldn't upend me; that this loss wouldn't undo me. Yet, my own personal grief has been a slow movement: creeping through me in small bursts of memories I didn't know were there, in tear-stricken moments of looking at the photos, and feeling her loss from those I love. Remembering how Moose before he could really talk would call her his "ninny." Remembering odd things - like how she had to take me to buy underwear once in junior high. Remembering how she loved me equally, instantly. She never once in my almost two decades of getting to be her kin treated me any different than her own flesh and blood grandkids. I was one of them - never a doubt in my mind. I didn't know how big that was. I didn't see the incredible commentary that was on the woman she was.

And so here I am: three AM, rocking the baby back to sleep because I was already awake, sleepless thinking of how hard it must be for her children in these moments, praying for all those feeling a void. Because how hard it must be to lose a parent, which takes me down so many other thought paths, and then, my tears are for all the other people in my life who have lost a parent. I must find my way back to solid ground where the introspection isn't stealing my whole brain, where memories and grief are helpful and healing, where praying for all my loved ones makes a difference, where I thank god for putting a grandmother such as her into my life.