This Foxtail Lilly

A Venice Valentine's and Questions for Your Spouse

2012-02-14T14:55:00.000-06:00

Whenever Valentine's Day rolls around, I always remember my very favorite Valentine's. Ever.

It happened during my senior year of college on a study abroad trip - my FIRST time out of the country. I'd waited my whole life to travel somewhere exotic, and with our religion and philosophy departments, was able to go to Turkey, Greece, and Italy - exploring and learning for two months during winter term.

We just happened to be in Venice for Valentine's Day. And you can't get more romantic than Venice on Valentine's Day - even if your intended is half-a-world away.

So, a group of my friends and I went in together and splurged on a sunset gondola ride around the city.

Absolutely breath-taking.

Side note: Kyle proposed the weekend after I got back from this trip at Carolina Beach - a special place for my family. He told me later that he'd wanted to fly to Rome and meet me there to propose, but thought better of it when he began planning all the details in secret. A surprise marriage proposal in Rome would have been the ONLY thing that could've topped a sunset gondola ride in Venice - romantically, speaking. :)

We kept trying to explain the significance of Valentine's Day to our gondoleer, but I don't think he quite understood. I'm sure we looked quite the foolish gaggle of young girls, but I'll forever treasure that Valentine's memory of being scrunched together, dreaming of marrying my beloved, soaking in the splendid aromas of a foreign city from its age-old waters.

one of my best friends and college roommate is in the back with me: "Hi, Jilly Jill!"

Sigh...ok. Out of dream land and back to current day...

Have I mentioned before that we're a little topsy-turvy at the moment?

Yes, yes. I do believe I have.

Given that...I lost my credit card about a month ago. I've been beating myself up about it because it's SO UNLIKE me to lose things. But, by golly, I can't find that sucker anywhere. I finally fessed up to our banking company about it last week and our new cards/numbers are in the mail. Until they get here, I have no money.

I told Kyle there's only a few things I can do to help celebrate Valentine's Day with no money. One would be to go old-fashioned and work all day to clean the house, bathe the kids, and have dinner on the table when he walks in the door. The other is, well, you can imagine.

So, today he went in to work late and helped us get out the door to Bible Study. I came home, lugged both girls in, and encountered a spotless house. I guess he really stayed late to give me the present I was going to give him.

Which only leaves me with the other thing.

:)

I think I am still going to have the girls bathed and ready for bed when he comes home today. That way, we can get on with our plans as quickly as possible. We'd already decided to have a candlelit picnic on the living room floor after the girls are sleeping - that's what we did for our anniversary this year and it was such a tender memory, the perfect "date night" fit for our stage of life right now.

This past Sunday we had date night at our church. We ate dinner and watched a webinar about making going out on dates with your spouse a regular activity. They encouraged us to stay curious about our spouse.

I loved this tidbit of challenge.

So often, when Kyle and I DO get the rare opportunity to go out, we're exhausted by the time we close the car doors with the rush of getting everyone ready, and then we're dumbfounded because, suddenly, there's silence. No kids fussing. No one needing to be fed. We can finally say more than two words to each other without being interrupted, but it's like we become tongue-tied.

I mean, what did we use to talk about before we had children?

Heck if I know. Or remember.

That's why I'm going into our Valentine's picnic armed with a list of "get to know you" questions with a "love" orientation - it is Valentine's Day, after all.

Some of the ones I've thought of include:

What's your favorite dating memory from before we were married?
If you could imagine the perfect date for us to go on, what would it be and why?
What's been your favorite memory from our married life so far?
How has having children changed your perspective of me or yourself?
What did your family do to celebrate Valentine's Day? What traditions should we keep in our family?
What was the one thing that your dad did that let you know he loved your mom?
What was the one thing that your mom did that let you know she loved your dad?
Why did you want to get married/what did you look forward to about being married when you were little?
How have I satisfied what you were looking for in a spouse?
What do I do that makes you feel the most loved?
What advice would you pass on to your brothers about love, marriage, or children?
If you could eat only one dessert everyday for the rest of your life, what would it be?
If you could celebrate love in one place on earth, where would it be and why?
What do you think we'll be doing on Valentine's Day 50 years from now?
Where do you want to spend our 25th, 50th, 75th + wedding anniversary and why?
What can we do better or more of to show our girls what love is, that we love each other, etc?
What do you think your reaction will be when one of our girls tells you that she's in love?
What was going through your mind when you first saw me on our wedding day?
How has your definition of "love" changed as you've gotten older, had more experiences?

I'll tell y'all this as I close...my love for Kyle has changed and deepened in every incredible way since having children. In fact, one of my favorite "love" memories happened just the other day. We were driving in the van on the way to date night. We were talking about - what else? - our children and what it would be like to have more in the future.

Kyle said this to me: "I'll tell you right now. If we have a ton of girls and a boy at the end, I'll come out with a fiery vengeance if anybody tells me that 'you can stop now - you've finally got your boy.' I love our girls and would count myself so lucky to share our family with all girls."

As a woman and as a mother to girls, hearing my husband and their father say that (and mean it!) made my heart all a'fluttery again. Hearing and seeing how much he loves his daughters makes me love him even more. And he loves them with passion, security, grace, and wisdom. Knowing he loves them like he does is one of the greatest ways I feel his love FOR ME.

don't we look like babies? this pic is from the weekend right before I left for my study abroad trip. we're only 21 - but will be getting married in 8 months!

Amazing how that works.

What are your favorite Valentine's memories?

What are your best "get to know you" spouse questions?

Scarves: A Fool-Proof Mama Must-Have

2012-02-13T10:32:00.000-06:00

You asked for it, you got it, my fellow mamas!

Recently, I sent out a FB query about favorite mama wardrobe styles and, overwhelmingly, your feedback indicated a love of scarves.

Scarves are the PERFECT spring and fall - winter accessory. They do double-duty by keeping you warm and instantly adding an element of style to your outfit. Throw one on and you can dress up or dress down FAST.

And FAST is an essential ingredient to being a fashionable mama. Because with kids in tow, you’ve got 5 seconds or less to get yourself dressed in the morning before the baby food is dragged out of the pantry for a picnic or the dvds are hurled across the living room like pretend snowballs or big sister is clambering into little sister’s crib and startling her from a morning nap.

At least that’s how it goes down at my house.

Scarves bring attention up to your face...and away from other parts of your body. Parts that may have become baby-fied in the last few years. :) And, in draping on a scarf, you create a “Y” look. “Y” looks are instantly slimming, elongating your body, making you appear sleek and trim.

OK. And, my all-time favorite reason for recommendation is that a conveniently-placed scarf can hide any unfortunate mama accident. Like spit-up or slushy spill or nose wipe or, like in my house recently, sweet pea throw-up.

When in doubt, grab a scarf on the go - it’s everyday glam for the busy mama without even trying.

Cotton, cashmere, silk, knit - you can't go wrong.

BUT. If you do happen to have 5 or more seconds and want to snaz up your style - grab a scarf plus a pendant. Pendants easily transfer from necklaces to scarves and help your scarf POP.

Watch this.

Meet my friend, "Stiffanie." She comes with me to every jewelry show.

Stiffanie's first look is a classic drape. I LOVE this scarf. Bright colors, long and flowy, light-weight.

The classic drape with a bit of bling. Brooches are a fantastic way to add sparkle to your favorite winter accessory. They look just as great on the lapel of a pea coat or blazer.

Here, I pulled one end of the scarf down and made a "flower knot thingy" (just bunching up the fabric). I secured the knot with another brooch. This brooch can also double as a pendant on any necklace. Notice how changing from a silver to gold brooch accentuated different colors in the same scarf.

Perhaps my favorite way to wear a scarf. I call it - "the loopy deal."

The loopy deal with a western-style silver pendant. I love the pizzazz - with the addition of the pendant, my scarf goes from accessory to "piece of jewelry." So swank.

The Basic Waterfall. To make this, you just knot two ends of the scarf together and loop it twice around your neck. Pull one loop slightly lower than the other one.

And secure a swirly pendant. To pair pendants with your scarves, you're going to need a fairly light-weight, skinny scarf.


I call this look: "the gentleman's tie." And it's what I mean by a "Y" look. It's a pretty boring scarf, but the addition of the golden brooch makes it elegant and exciting.

Knitted/crocheted items are all the rage - especially when tied up in your hair like a kercheif. And pairing this knitted scarf with a fun pendant gives this look a matured-youthful feel.

On a day like we’re having today, scarves are indispensable for playing in the snow. We usually have at least one “big snow” every year and it’s almost always in February. You can check out the last few big snows here and here.

They called for a big snow last night into this morning, but it turned out to just be a little snow. Nonetheless, we’re snuggled in and Kyle and Meggie are bundling up to go out and play in it right now.

There they are. My little snow bunnies.

Douglass even got in on the action.

So, if you’re somewhere near here or have snow yourself - find your favorite cold-weather scarf, twirl it around, and go hit the slopes!

What are your favorite ways to wear scarves?

Great News

2012-02-09T23:18:00.000-06:00

I've got a little bit of everything going on in this post tonight. Read on for two pieces of great news and some delightful pictures from the last few days. Thank you for stopping by, y'all!

AV's pediatrician called yesterday with the great news from her swallow study. Though she didn't drink enough of the barium to make them see her reflux, her anatomy looks fine and her little system is perfect.

YAY!

My hunch was that the test would come back normal, but it's a relief to have that confirmed - and to think that we've turned a corner with her reflux.

We woke up super early and bundled both girls up for the morning. Even though we were just going to the hospital, I took extra time getting dressed (because I finally made it out shopping with two sweet friends on Sunday and have NEW CLOTHES!!! post to follow soon), and, of course, made us late out the door. We dropped Meggie at Isaac's house and hustled down to OU Children's. There, we waited in Radiology for just a few minutes before being called back to the x-ray machine.

AV and me before her x-ray.

AV was a doll baby. She sat in my lap in the waiting room and watched people come and go. I mean, we couldn't have asked for anything more. She's a gentle spirit, and trusting. Kyle and I talked about how it was fun to be out with just one girl at a time and be able to focus our whole attention on her.

Well, we actually said that being out with just one baby made us feel really young and inexperienced - like first-time parents again. You don't really realize how much parenting changes you, grows you, in such a short period of time until certain moments make you feel the weight of the lives that depend on you. I know that statement probably sounds strange, but the addition of two sweet ones into our lives over the past two years makes us feel so different from before. Even different bringing AV home compared to Meggie. It's only been shy of 8 months since we just had one baby around our table, but being out with AV by herself felt special, fun, freeing, but...incomplete. I guess being out with one made us reflect on how different it would be now to just have one or not have any or have more and how having children has permanently changed us.

Anyway. We enjoyed devoting some quality time to our second baby, soaking in her uniqueness, learning her, etching her babyness on our hearts and memory. Oh, I could just keep her as my baby forever and ever.

I'll write more about her temperament during her 7 month update, but more and more people notice how happy and content she is (now that her tummy's full!). Even when they brought us back to the exam room, the doctors and nurses said that babies usually are really angry by that time of the morning - since they like parents to bring them in with an empty stomach. Not AV. Though she had last eaten at 4:00 am, she still smiled and laughed and watched her world from my arms. They were amazed by how patient and laid back she was - we try not to take her pleasantness for granted, but hearing them say those kind things about her was a good reminder for us to be thankful for her sweetness. I'm convinced that we could not have handled the upheaval of this year with any other baby. We love her so.

In the exam room, they had us undress her and try to feed her barium from the bottle. She wouldn't take the barium, so we had to lay her under the x-ray machine and give it to her through a syringe. AV spluttered and barium flew everywhere. Our hands and arms were covered in barium paint splatters - and barium, this heavy, white, chalky substance, was caked all over AV's face and hair.

For us, the worst part was the very first scan that they did. The doctors had to bring the xray all the way over AV's body, and her trusting eyes fixated on mine, terrified. She cried a little, but was distracted by the toys with music and lights they keep to entertain the children. We were so proud of her; after the first initial crying, she settled down and let them position her for all of the different pictures.

We got to watch as the barium drained out of her stomach and through her intestines. Anatomy is amazing!

After it was over, we bundled AV back into her carseat and she fell asleep before we exited the hospital doors. Of course, without fail, going back to OU brings up beautiful memories of having her there - AND the walk of 6-7 cm contractions through the ER up to labor and delivery. Thankfully, I've blocked those sensations out. :)

Our other great news is that...WE SIGNED A LEASE WITH RENTERS!!! Yes, we finally, finally, finally have some resolution with our house. After 16 showings and no offers, we're renting to another military couple who're moving here to be closer to family. We met them last week and love their family! We were connected a month ago through a dear mutual friend, Katie, kept in touch, and worked it out. They signed a two-year-lease, which then freed us up to sign a lease on a property down in Corpus.

We verbally committed to that house tonight.

Which makes this whole moving thing seem way more real.

And speaking of that...we move in five weeks. How did we get here so fast?

Gulp.

If I think too far ahead I start to panic, so I'll just leave you with some precious pictures of my girls.

They're calling for a "Big Snow" this weekend and if it comes as promised, you can bet we'll be doing a whole lot more of what you see here in these pictures.

With the addition of baking cookies.

Kyle's mama (Hi, Grammy!) said that it was always their tradition to bake cookies on rainy days, snowy days, and sick days - I LOVE that. We're sticking with it and got all prepared with "just in case" ingredients from the store today. :)

Meggie's creative play is blossoming right now.

and it's a good thing we'd love to have a big family, because she LOVES to practice diapering. just about anything will do.

AV and her precious bah-bah

she was watching Meggie run around and jump over her this morning.

AV had a ball exploring this picnic basket.

and I had fun capturing it on film!

Past the Tunnel

2012-02-07T23:17:00.001-06:00

If you talk about “stress,” we’ve got a boatload right now.

Sometimes I feel like I’m so living in March and all that HAS TO BE DONE by the moving date that I miss life as it’s happening right now.

I’m still working out how I make all things happen that need to get done while balancing the immediate needs right in front of me.

And I feel like I’ve got tunnel vision.

The problem with tunnel vision is that I’m like a chugging train with a big ole whistle, gunning for my blog, my business, selling/renting this house, setting up residence in TX, saying good-bye, starting over, packing up.

Full steam ahead.

And when I get going full steam ahead, I barrel right past my two upturned, angel-baby, faces. I miss them. They start to become the obstacles instead of the reasons.

We clash. I discipline. I hurry. I rush. I fly through a story before bedtime because my mind is already making mental checklists of how best to use their limited naptime. I get anxious because I can’t do all that I need to do because I’m with them all day. I get flustered.

And when I get flustered, my one-who’s-so-like-me becomes that much harder to handle, harder to motivate, slower to listen, exasperating to calm.

At the end of days like today, I feel anxious, beaten down, rejected. I’ve been learning a hard and humbling lesson over and over and over this week. That parents make mistakes. That I’m making mistakes. That even though I try my best, think my best, act my best, love my best - it’s never going to be perfect. I’m never going to love them perfectly enough. Even though and when and how I want too. Above all, I feel like I’ve failed, am failing.

In the past week, I’ve read two different articles with a similar thread. One I found through another blog, the other sent to me in an email by a dear friend. They’ve inspired me to “see” interactions with my spirited Meggie differently. You can read them here and here.

You see, I had this conversation with Meggie that went something like this:

“Meggie, I love you so much!” - big hug -
“Meggie, when Mommy says, “I love you,” what do you say?
She looked at me and answered, “Mommy, please forgive me.”

It feels like we’ve been doing non-stop discipline. I guess she feels that way, too.

Our pastor said something in a sermon last year that came back to me then. He said that for every stern word spoken to our children, it takes about five positive words to rebuild their esteem.

Words are powerful. And if we need to be doing non-stop discipline (and with a strong-willed 2 year-old it appears that we do) in the middle of all this stress and chaos, then I want my other words to like a well-spring of life to my Meggie.

That means that I need to be speaking about 100 words of love to her, filling up every other minute of her day.

Sometimes, lately, choosing to love her this way feels like it takes every ounce, every miniscule drop of my nonexistent strength.

It’s something I cannot always do on my own sheer willpower. But when I remember what it was like to birth Alice Virginia, perching over the hospital bed, panting through the delivery of her head, her ten pounds pushing out of my body on my own human strength - I think how much more can I do when I’ve got the backing of Christ.

Because God made her perfectly and to be my perfect firstborn match, I can love her like he tells me to and how she needs me to and with the words she wants me to.

And words are working. I speak these things to her and over her now every moment that I remember:

“Meggie, you are Mama’s precious girl.”
“Did you know you’re my treasure?”
“I love you forever and ever and ever.”
“I love you and God loves you.”
“You are so very special. You are absolutely perfect in every way.”
“I’m so glad you are my baby girl, that God gave you to me.”
“I’m so happy and thankful and proud that you’re My Meggie.”
“Meggie, you have such a kind heart, a servant’s heart, and that’s a gift!”
“You are dear to me. You were Mama’s first baby, and you’ll always be special to me.”
“What a pearl you are. What a gift! I couldn’t ask for anyone else I’d rather be spending time with.”
“Mama loves getting to stay home and watch you grow!”
“Meggie, I prayed for you before I knew you and you changed my life for the better in every possible way. For you, I’m so thankful.”
“You are my true delight, and you have so many gifts to share with this world.”

There’s a peace about her now, a calm. And she’s started throwing her arms around us with abandon, shouting: “I LOVE you!” I guess she IS a quality-time/words of affirmation gal like me. :)

So much better than: please forgive me.

Oh, and you should just see her smile. She’s proud of herself, and secure in our love for her and her place in our family.

Among the stress and the chaos, of which I’m sure she perceives, I’m thankful that through our words we’ve found one way to help her feel stable - and one more way to see past the tunnel.

Allie's Swallow Study

2012-02-05T21:38:00.000-06:00

We've been waiting 2 long months for Allie V's swallow study, and our appointment is finally tomorrow.

We need to check into OU Children's Radiology at 8:45 in the morning. There, she'll be given about 2.5 ounces of barium liquid mixed with 2.5 ounces of breastmilk. Kyle and I both will be able to go and stay with her in the x-ray room. I'm thankful not to be pregnant this time one of my children need an x-ray.

My little Meggie had pneumonia when I was about 20 weeks pregnant with Alice Virginia and with Kyle deployed, she didn't have anyone to help hold her while they x-rayed her chest. The whole agonizing time, she cried for me through the glass door, held down by sweet nurses, and didn't understand why I couldn't come for her. I shudder remembering her poor, scrunchy face.

I'm relieved to be there for AV tomorrow. And that Meggie will be playing with her buddy, Isaac, while we're there. :)

At the swallow study, they'll be watching the liquid as it travels through her system - checking her reflux and anatomy. Her eating has improved so very much since beginning bottles and reflux medication, but we're still anxious to make sure everything's ok in her little body.

Now, it'll just be a matter of whether or not she agrees to drink the barium mixture. Our Allie V can be a bit picky when it comes to new tastes and textures. She's not the animated "fighter" that Meggie tends to be when made to do something she doesn't want to do, but Alice Virginia DOES purse her lips. And clamp her jaw shut. There's nothing you can do to pry it open. Nothing. :)

They recommend the babies being really hungry when they come in, so we have to wake AV up at 4:00 am and give her a last morning feeding before we go in. So, we'll see how she does. (And how we do, too.)

Please keep our Allie Ballie Bo Ballie in your prayers tomorrow. I'll let you know how everything goes as soon as we know the results.

Window Peeping

2012-02-03T23:23:00.000-06:00

Just when I think I've got this whole parenting thing figured out, she teaches me to see the world in a whole new light. Her soft beauty brings out the brilliance in everything around her - and makes even looking through a window seem like a novelty.

Redesigning Women

2012-02-01T10:19:00.002-06:00

Since having children, I've started living in sweat pants. Some days I wear the same clothes I slept in. Which are the same clothes I wore the day before. And I'm not lying (actually, I wish I were), but every time I take a shower these days, Meggie asks me if we're going to Bible Study or "Mommy? Go to church?"

Almost eight long months of not sleeping through the night, and even five minutes to take a shower seems like too much sleep time to sacrifice.

Well, it's high time for a redesign. The having-no-clothes (that fit), messy bedhead, wardrobe-of-pajamas has got to go...for the most part anyway. I know as a stay-at-home-working-very-hard mama to two little girls, my fallback fashion will always be yoga pants and a t-shirt. :)

My first step is to dig through my closet and find anything that will work. As in: right size, long enough, bright colors, classic elements.

Most stuff will have to be donated.

I love and am amazed by what my body did (and continues to do) to bring forth these girlies into the world. (And speaking of...I'm going on over 3 years and 2 months of continuously being pregnant, nursing/pumping breastmilk, or both!!!) But after all this time, my body's changed in ways that I don't think will ever go back. I'm proud of this accomplishment, but I need the clothes to better show off my new...curves?! :)

So that means bye-bye to all my clothes from high school and college that I've been moving around.

The next step (to be completed this weekend, hopefully) is to replace essential elements of my "mama uniform" with comfortable, sturdy, trendy clothes through a shopping spree courtesy of Christmas gift cards.

These last few days, I've been challenging myself to create new looks from existing, workable stuff that I already have in my closet. Everyday feels like a treasure hunt. I'm also challenging myself to carve out the relatively teeny amount of time it takes to get ready for the day in the morning. My Allie V is slowly working through this acid reflux dilemma and sleeping for longer stretches - that means it's my time to return to the land of the living...and I want to take care to look like it. If, for nothing else, my own sense of accomplishment and feeling of preparedness.

The first outfit I "created" was one I wore to church on Sunday. Between the scoping my closet for clothes, shower, make-up, and shaving my legs (you don't even want me to go there, just use your imagination)...getting ready took 3 hours.

3 HOURS.

Whoo - this is gonna take some practice. But, thrilling practice, really. And, it didn't hurt when I finally walked out of the bathroom and Meggie cried, "OOOOHHHHH, Mama! Preeeeettttttttttttttt - ty!" :)

I dug through my closet and found a dress that used to be my mom's (Hi, MOM!), and thought: let's go vintage, here! I paired it with a large black and silver belt to add definition around the waist.

(Really, it was to cover a gaping hole where I buttoned myself into the dress and my baby belly overflowed between the buttons...still working on those last stubborn pounds.)

I also found a black cardigan. Not only are cardigans of any shape, size, color IN, but they also add depth and variety to your wardrobe. In this case, I felt the cardigan updated this dress from the 1980s to the present.

Now, for the accessories. My favorite part!

Because the red and black dress is so vibrant, I chose a simple, but versatile black, beaded necklace (Premier Designs: Arabian Nights) to add style without being too busy. I chose a fun pair of beaded, silver hoops (Premier Designs: Fun) to tie in with the silver of the belt buckle. Then, I paired a silver/black watch (Premier Designs: On Time) and silver bracelet (Premier Designs: Cuff 'Em). With the final addition of a black/silver statement ring, my jewelry finishes the look.

I don't have any close-toed, black pumps. Shame, I know. They're on my list. So, I threw on a favorite pair of off-white, closed-toed heels and repeated the look by carrying an off-white vintage handbag.

For one of the first times since bringing home baby #2, I felt collected and confident. All with stuff I already owned...who knew?

What outfits have you "created" from your own closet?

First Draft Friends

2012-01-31T00:25:00.000-06:00

We have a showing (#15) tomorrow, so this post won't be long.

And AV gave Meg whatever she had from a few weeks ago. Which Meggie had in the first place, so we're right back where we started.

We've been praying that God would move in our house situation this week. That tomorrow will go well if it's supposed to be the right fit...and not go well if it's not. Kyle'd like to have our house in Corpus nailed down by the first week in February. I can't believe that's in just one week. January's been one of the longest months ever, but one of the shortest, too, if you know what I mean. Our time here is coming quickly to a close.

I snuck out with a kindred spirit of a friend tonight for Sonic treats. We sat in the parking lot and talked about a lot of things, but mainly about how the second baby changes things. Changes us. About how it's so hard right now to maintain a sense of "me" in the demands that come with "mommy" that we're not really sure who we are anymore. All of us is being poured out. I wrote a little about that in a recent post on this whole moving thing, the military, and me. It took me a few days to gather up the strength to post it, and even then I edited out most of the "negative" stuff.

I'm still working on one that fleshes out the feeling of "invisible" and "left behind" that sometimes comes along with young motherhood - if we're not diligent to care for ourselves, too. And, I'm learning that I haven't really been doing a good enough job...or really any sort of job at taking care of myself. When it comes down to it, I think I'm disappointed in myself for not sticking up for myself. Anyway. I'll wait to say anymore until I'm finished with the next draft.

For now, I'm thankful for the friendships I have here. For my "first draft friends" - like my sweet one tonight - who always accept me as I am no edits necessary and who've heard my ugliest truths and still love me anyway.

I'll leave you with a picture I love from this weekend. I suddenly realized that I barely have any pictures with Allie V. While Meggie napped and Kyle practiced guitar, I set up the self-timer and tried to snap a few. Um. Have you ever tried to use the self-timer with a baby??? No. Small. Feat.

But this one, in all its candid glory, is precious to me. I love the way the sun shines in on her hair and that her nose is pressed into my cheek. I love how I'm kind of laughing, and that I'm already in my tshirt but with jewelry on - my half-in, half-out of church clothes look. I love how serious she appears, how much she's grown, and that she's OUR baby of all the babies that could have been - our snuggly, giggly, tender-hearted, perfect, sugar-coated doll baby.

Ah, there we go. :)

These Boots Are Made for...Chewing?

2012-01-29T21:24:00.000-06:00

Little Sister loves all things "Meggie." Most especially, her boots.

Put Your Hands Up (as in the club)

2012-01-28T23:39:00.001-06:00

People sometimes ask me if Meggie's always had the energy and stamina she does.

If she's always been strong? Bold? Courageous?

I answer, usually with one eye panning the scene for my wild one and the other on any routes of escape, ready to spring after her at any moment, wary of that adorable, mischevious glint in her twinkling, blue stargazers, shoulders tensed,

"YES!"

We love her that way.

She's our firecracker.

Steam engine.

Wild woman.

Adventurous sister.

Fun-filled lollipop.

And I found my proof tonight.

(I'd like to point out that she's 11 months old in this video. 11 MONTHS OLD. And this was exactly what it felt like when I was pregnant with her. :)

A Pilot's Life for Me

2012-01-27T22:31:00.002-06:00

Monday’s events were an answer to prayer for our family.

When Kyle and I started dating our freshman year of college, the course of my life changed. I went to college never dreaming that I’d get married four years later, and certainly NOT to a Naval officer. My plans then involved studying theater and being a broadway actress; in no way could I imagine where I would be now, and with whom I would be.

But we did start dating. We did talk marriage. And I began to tweak my interests and my life around the reality that the man I was beginning to love would have a career in the military.

I have no idea if my college adviser reads my blog (if you do...Hi, Dr. Turner!), but she spent countless hours with me in her office, patiently listening to me agonizing over what I could do with my gifts and talents that would possibly fit into the career plan that Kyle signed up for when he accepted the Naval Academy’s offer of admission.

Maybe a teacher? Maybe a writer? Maybe a counselor? Maybe a nurse?

She would counsel me: Shannon, when it comes to the military, you don’t just marry the man...you marry his career - more than any other. You have to not only feel committed to Kyle, you have to feel committed to the Navy. This is a big decision.

She counseled me from her own experience - not only as a career woman and mother, but with decades worth of being married herself.

I didn’t really understand, being lovesick and eager.

Because the military - though embedded with many benefits and good qualities - is unlike any other career. It’s one high commitment - like a vow, like a marriage. And, there have been times, especially in the last three years of deployments, when I’ve honestly felt like the Navy is his real wife and I’m, well, the mistress.

So, lately, my heart’s had an extra hard time with this move to Corpus. While I’m grateful for the steadiness of his job that allows me to be the kind of parent that I’ve wished and hoped to be, I’ve also struggled lately with resentment. Over the last three years, I’ve lost a bit of my feeling of “calling” to this life - and I earnestly believe that the spouse needs a sense of calling to make a military marriage work. I want to make it clear that I'm thankful for this move, am proud of Kyle, am in full support of what he does when he does his job. My struggle is this: I sort of don't know how I fit into it anymore.

Lately, I’ve felt like all this is something happening “to” me, not “with” me. And, being the “fighter” that I am (it’s the same fight in me that got me through grad school with a baby, after all), I’ve been digging in my heels against the upcoming changes.

There’s way too much to write about it - more than I care to try right now - but I’ve begun to feel invisible, left behind. It’s felt like my life, my choices, my career, my dreams don’t matter anymore. Like “I’m just the wife” - not the woman, not the smart mind, not the person with a life of her own and dreams of her own and plans of her own.

But, Monday helped.

I got the opportunity to go up in an airplane with several other spouses, my dear friends who’ve enriched my life so deeply, and see what Kyle does in his job.

The day was perfect flying weather. Not a cloud in the sky. No wind. A front had blown through the day before leaving clear, crisp, beautiful weather behind. Soaring above Oklahoma and Arkansas was exhilarating. I was filled with awe. I kept thinking: “My husband does this? This is what he gets paid to do? It’s so exciting. So breathtaking. So thrilling. You really get a sense for how small our world is up here.”

He’s good at what he does; a natural leader. He’s passionate about flying. Flying on Monday, I felt like I understood and communed with that passion for the first time. Ever.

It felt like I was lifted up, transported, away from the stresses that have made the last few months drudgery. Away from the messy house, the mile-long to-do list, the Mount Everest of dirty laundry spilling from our closet into the bathroom, the uncertainty, the “for sale” sign. For 2-and-a-half hours I forgot what it felt like to worry.

Shoot - for 2-and-a-half hours I forgot about the breast pump. That was a gift in and of itself.

I can see why he loves it.

And why he loves the mission. Why it was the Navy that he chose. Why it suits him the way that it does.

He stayed home with the girls on Monday; I “flew” an airplane. Our worlds intersected.

I think we both understood one another’s calling in a different way.

After my flight, facing the move with a cheerful attitude became a little less strength and willpower, and a little more grace.

An answer to prayer.

The spouses flew up in a KC-135 like this one. The E-6 has high security - so we got as close as we could to it through air refueling.

We could listen in to the radio calls on these head phones.

I had no idea what they were saying, but I felt cool in the cockpit.

Suddenly, while I was looking over the pilot's shoulder, we saw our E-6 down below. For such a HUGE plane, it looked tiny.

the co-pilot

out the window

We got to go down where the boom operator works during the air refueling exercise. What you see is the boom off of the KC-135 (where we were) and the nose of the E-6 getting ready to refuel.

The planes come very close to one another in mid-air...within 20 feet.

refueling

While I was back there they did an emergency "breakaway" drill - where the KC-135 goes up in the air as fast as they can and the E-6 drops down as fast as they can. In mere seconds, the E-6 goes from as close as you saw in the picture above to way down there like in this picture.

You can kinda see the pilots in this one.

View out the window of the boom chair - we got to actually practice steering the boom in a wobbly rectangle pattern.

A couple of us got to lay in the back where the boom is for landing. It's a very eerie feeling to watch the ground getting closer going backwards. Here, you can see our shadow over OKC.

getting closer...

and touch down!

A Glimpse

2012-01-25T23:05:00.000-06:00

It's getting harder to keep up the steam needed to finish my month long blogging expedition. For the record, there was a day a few days ago that I didn't post. It was not my fault. I spent an entire night - AN ENTIRE NIGHT - writing a long essay entitled "tips for surviving a house on the market with babies in tow." Previous to this post, I haven't tried any tutorials - I was excited and proud of myself.

And then when I went to publish it, blogspot erased the whole shebang. Nothing was salvaged. I cried. Too exhausted and heart sore to try and rewrite it or to come up with anything else quickly, I just went to bed. Turns out, this week has been a whole week of "just going to bed." I think with Allie sick last week and a weekend full of fruitless house showings as well as the dawning reality that this move is really happening, I'm just plain spent.

I was supposed to post tonight on the amazing experience I had flying up with/around Kyle's airplane on Monday, but I have like a bajillion pictures and it would take me HOURS. Plus, you KNOW I have a story to go along with it. Considering that it's 10:50 pm and I haven't begun and I still have a baby to feed before the night's done, I'm just going to leave you (for now) with a little glimpse of sugar love...

she can really clap her hands now to singing or music

I love her funny face here.

trying to put her paci in her mouth.

Role Reversal

2012-01-24T22:24:00.001-06:00

In keeping with yesterday’s theme of job swapping, with Shannon taking to the skies in an Air Force KC-135 on an Air Refueling Mission and me staying home with the girls as a stay at home dad for the day, Shannon asked me to write a blog entry! Now that most of you have probably discontinued reading this post, I’ll explain that the purpose of me contaminating Shannon’s beautiful blog with my uncreative writing is twofold: it provides Shannon the opportunity to take the night off and get some much deserved rest while allowing her to keep her pledge of posting every day this month! Rather than boring you with a meager attempt at prose, I have compiled a short list of inspirations/ revelations from my “day at home with the girls.”

-It became evident as soon as the girls and I made it back home at 9:00 from dropping Shan off at the base that Meg and Allie run on parallel schedules, but the key to success is getting their schedules to intersect at afternoon naptime. Allie is the key variable in this equation and she surprised me early on by falling asleep on the way home and after a quick feeding, continued napping until 11:30! While the long nap gave me a great opportunity to focus on Meg, I was sure that intersecting naptimes were a pipe dream. Surprisingly, Allie (who is still convalescing from her flu like virus and at a huge deficit in the total hours slept department lately) decided to be a big team player and also took a 2-hour afternoon nap, starting at 1:00! Lucky me!

-Finding constructive outlets for Meg that do not involve noise and or running around during Allie’s morning naptime proved to be quite a challenge. Meg was quite the trooper and hung in there with me as we bounced from one activity to another- from changing “Meggie’s baby doll’s “diaper no less than 10 times, to putting stickers on paper plates, to cooking imaginary pancakes and serving imaginary coffee, to setting the table with every piece of Tupperware we own! I am proud of Meg and me that we were able to provide Allie with an uninterrupted naptime and I am extremely proud of Shannon for mustering the energy and creativity to do this with Meggie every other day of the year!

Meggie "making dinner"

-I realized very quickly that it is hard not to take advantage of Allie’s calm, content and unassuming nature by allowing her to just have infinite blanket time with her toys while focusing on Meg’s energetic busyness. Allie will sit on her blanket watching the festivities for hours if you let her- until she gets hungry that is. Splitting quality time equally between her and Meg was difficult to do and I can see how this would be my number one challenge if I were to be at home alone with the girls every day.

Allie on her blanket

-Lastly, I am in complete awe of Shannon’s ability to be intentional with the girls every day. I tried hard to mirror this during my “day in the life” and it took copious amounts of energy and focus. I was quite honestly tired by the time Shannon got back from her adventure! I am so proud of my brilliant and beautiful wife and am eternally grateful that she dedicates herself to being a Professional Mom day in and day out! My baby girls are so fortunate and blessed to have the best mama in the world!

That’s it for now- check back tomorrow night for Shannon’s report on her day in the life of a pilot!

A Day on My Husband's Job

2012-01-23T21:57:00.000-06:00

This is what I got to do today.

Proud.

Humbled.

Inspired.

Amazed.

And Amazed. And Amazed. And Amazed.

Memory Lane

2012-01-21T20:32:00.000-06:00

We had showing #14 today. I don't know how much more of these we can take. Please, oh please, be THE ONE #14.

In an effort to keep the house clean from our spree yesterday, we went as a family to eat at a new-to-us diner called The Cow Calf-Hay (we'd wanted to go to the zoo, but it was like 20 degrees today and then we thought the science museum, but by the time we all got moving it was too late). I'd heard rave reviews about it and put it on our "must do or try one last time before leaving OK list."

The inside was teeny-tiny, but added to its quaint appeal. There were cows everywhere - including a giant cow that Meggie was half-infatuated with and half-scared by. She kept saying, "Are you scared, Mommy? Are you scared, Daddy?" Which means that she wants us to ask her if she's scared so that she can say yes.

We placed our orders with the sweetest waitress EVER and when she asked me if I wanted a 1/2 lb. patty or 1/3 lb. patty, I panicked and squeaked: "1/3 I think. WAIT! Which ones smaller?"

Because, really, who can still do math after you've had a baby? Kyle shook his head at me in shame.

Instead of high chairs, they have western saddles for kiddos to sit on - Meggie was so proud of hers!

They served the juiciest burgers with skinny, curly fries and gave us tall drinks filled to the brim with iceballs - my favorite kind of ice.

Alice Virginia fell asleep in the middle of our lunch. I tell you, seven months old and she STILL falls asleep anywhere and everywhere we need her to...seems like that's the trade-off for not yet sleeping through the night. She's so easy-going.

Hey, look! I actually have on make-up today. So, I made Kyle take a picture of me and my big girl.

It's the kind of place that welcomes families and grandparents with sweet tea and college guys in need of a home-cooked meal. Highly recommend! And, it made us talk all the way home about how it's just one more thing that we'll miss about living here. Seems like we're still just discovering OK and now it's time to leave.

Sigh...

So. In keeping with the random nature of this week's postings and sentimentality, I found a gem hiding in my computer today. It was from the hard drive of my college computer. I wrote this poem after coming home from the Naval Academy Ring Dance (an extravagant, meaningful, and coveted ball that the midshipmen attend junior year - where they dip their rings in water from the seven seas and finally feel like graduation is getting closer).

Back when I was planning our wedding, I was going to make homemade bookmarks as the wedding favor and print this poem on the back. It seemed like a romantic, weddingish idea back then, but I'm so glad I didn't because, well, you'll see... (so mushy and embarrassing!)

:) We were so young and full of love once. I mean, we're still full of love, but it's the wide-open eyes kind, not so much the innocent and naive kind. Still, it's fun to reread and remember being like that...and 20 years old.

Enjoy!

Moonlight on Water, Candles by the Shore

A long bridge, one that connects you and me

A Crimson Carpet

Of stars…You are mine

Turning and Turning, you spin me

The smile, your smile, on your lips,

In your eyes. Patience.

A question, the night of fountains and flowers

One ribbon around my neck, a heavy weight

Commitment and Honor in one.

Gold and I am proud

It is the color of my love for you.

Below, the grass is soft and wet

Cold but your hand is in mine

And I am warm.

A lady in red

Above, the fire dances across the sky

A show that illuminates the pairs

Drifting like swans and fallen leaves

Surrounding us and still alone

Tonight I see only one.

How did we come so far

From that Texas boy and girl

Shy and Secret?

To be in this moment.

I know

Of another time,

the night of change and circumstance

You spoke and in blessed surrender

I knew Never again the same.

In the distance, there are songs

I listen but here there is only one

“I love you.”

“Oh, how I love you.” A promise of more

Whispered in shadows.

Tradition but new for us

We hold hands above

Our faces tilted toward the light

A flash. Forever. We’ll Remember.

Here we are before Ring Dance. My, we look young! :)

But young and happy.

Someone Left Something in the Ducky Potty

2012-01-20T21:01:00.002-06:00

can't you just tell from her poor, sweet little face that she's still sicky? but even with a fever, she's my smiley-girl

We had showing #13 today.

Since we just had showing #12 on Monday, the house wasn't too bad. And by "too bad" I mean it was clean underneath the millions of (thankfully, clean) diapers strewn around from Meggie playing, sippie cups piled on the counters, and the truckload of dirty socks I finally brought in from the van. We've basically been shut down in the housekeeping department this week with a feverish baby and rambunctious 2 year-old. I've pretty much been holding one or the other for days - which is a good thing. :)

Nevertheless, Kyle raced home from work (glad he was planning on leaving early anyway) and we set to picking up after the girls went down for their naps. Things were going well with fifteen minutes to spare until this happened:

I heard Allie V crying from her crib. I went in there and immediately could smell The Poop. I have never smelled The Poop like I smelled it today. I mean, I had no idea that breastmilk babies could make poop like that. I swooped her up, changed her, and threw it outside. But The Poop smell lingered. And lingered. We sprayed special Scentsy room freshener. Three times. But then it only smelled like special Scentsy room freshener Poop.

I attacked every wood surface in her room with Febreeze Mr. Clean. It helped somewhat. At which point I abandoned the effort and went to clean up a "discovery" in the girls' bathroom. When Kyle asked me what I needed lysol wipes for, I laughed back that he didn't want to know.

He said: "Don't tell me it involves something ridiculous that sings and quacks?"

Because my mom sent this in the mail to Meggie a few weeks ago:

Oh yes. SOMEONE left SOMETHING from who knows when in the bottom of the ducky potty. AND at the same time as "the discovery" and The Poop, Meggie was working on "something else" in her room, too.

It all made Kyle shout: "All right! Everybody! Control your bodily functions until we can make it out the door!" He then ran from room to room spraying Pina Colada room freshener.

I laughed so hard I almost had an unfortunate accident courtesy of my two in two years 10-pounders.

Well, showing #13, hope it worked. :)

We're nothing short of a hot mess around here lately.

And from this morning before our realtor called, I took a hilarious progression of sister pictures after Meggie picked out her own outfit and dressed herself. I've inserted "Mama" commentary for your viewing pleasure.

"Hey, y'all! That's a good one! But, let's try for one more...now, Meggie, remember to SMILE and give your sister a hug!"

"Allie, Allie look over here at Mama!"

"Okay, good job. Uh, Meggie, that's a little too hard for sister, little too hard...try and hug her tummy."

"Her TUMMY, Meg! Her TUMMY!"

"Okkkaayyy...that's better...but, Allie sit up! Allie, look at Mama!"

(Then, Meggie got fed up with taking pictures and wanted to see them. So she "accidentally" let go of sister, who fell backwards into the wall. As I was comforting Allie V, Meggie lost interest in having her picture taken, so...)

I took some of this angel baby.

she is so dear.

I can't even really call this a post.

2012-01-19T19:59:00.000-06:00

Kyle and I just had a conversation about how exhausted we are...so tired that we could actually go to bed at 7:30 pm.

AV still has her fever. It came back last night. Luckily, we already had a doctor's appointment scheduled for her today as a follow-up to her acid reflux appointment three weeks ago. Today, she weighed 23 lbs and was 28.5 inches long. She's still my big girl - now we just have to get her eating solid foods. Her doctor and I made a plan about that, and she also said that a bad, bad virus is going around here that's 8-10 days long with fever and stomach stuff. We're apparently on day 4. :(

Meggie had a good day at school. She came home, went straight down for a nap, and then "made us dinner." We've watched her slowly enter a new phase of imaginative play. It's been a delight to see her begin to pretend. In the last few weeks, she's said to me:

"Mama, I make you pancakes!" (And then she hands me a stack of pretend pancakes.)
"Mama, I get a biiiiig buggy!" (And then she pretends to squash a bug on the floor or the table.)
"Mama, you go take a sleep." (Which means to pretend to be asleep so that she can wake me up.)
"Mama, I make you lemonade." (And she pours me a cup.)

She's also really into taking care of her doll, putting it night night, and giving her medicine. The BEST part, though, is the huge smile that brightens her face when you pretend with her...like she's discovered the secret to really being grown-up.

OK. Well, good night, dear friends. We're throwing in the towel on today. :)

The Ones I Never Posted Part I

2012-01-18T22:34:00.000-06:00

Nothing new to report here.

Except that I'm hooooping Baby Girl's fever broke tonight. She just woke up for her 10:00ish feeding and was sweaty and cool to the touch. Oh, please let this be her fever breaking! I spent a lot of extra time with AV today because she just wanted me to hold her - Meggie spent a lot of extra time doing Meggie-ish things like diapering everything in sight. One time today I picked up a clean diaper that she'd already folded up to stick on AV. I felt something prickly inside and opened the diaper to find all of the childproof safety plug covers.

And that we ran out of Douglass' dog food tonight and I had to leave after the girls' bedtime to get more. Which made me feel like a rebel. Because once you're a mama, being on the road after 7:00 pm feels like walking on the wild side.

When I got home, Meggie was in her diaper waving at me from her windowsill. That's her thing now that she doesn't have anything in her room to play with after we put her to bed. She gets nekkid and waves at unsuspecting passers-by.

Since the only trip I've made outside our doors in the last few days is to get dog food, I thought I would go back and post some different things that I never got around to posting from our trip back in September. Seeing as it's already 10:00 and who knows how many times I'll be up with sick chil - ren tonight, this first post is a bit unfinished. As in, in my mind many months ago it sounded grand and well-rounded. Now, I'm just gonna slap up on here some of my different thoughts about this experience.

On our last beach morning, I took Meggie out to the ocean by herself. She loves buckets and digging sand, so I had her carry a pail and shovel down. To get to the beach, we walk over a long boardwalk, climb down some stairs, and walk on a sandy strip to the water. I led the way and Meggie, with her bucket on one arm and shovel crooked around the other, followed. I didn't look back to make sure she was there until I got all the way out to the big, sandy part - I just listened to the slap, slap, slap of her bare feet on the wood.

When I turned around to check her progress, I found her crouched at the base of the stairs, contentedly digging in the sand.

"Meggie! Come on - come over here...let's go to the biiiiig sand," I called. I motioned with my hand: "This way, let's dig by the water. We're going to dig a sandcastle." The bags on my own arms started to slip off from the weight, and the metal of my chair ground into my shoulder. Salty wind teased my lips.

She didn't look up.

A man and his wife passed by me on the other side, laughing and shaking their heads at my parenting predicament. He stopped by Meg.

"Hey, little one. There's a whole huge beach out there. There's tons more sand. You're missing the best part."

She stayed focused on her project. Sand slid off her shovel. sssffffffffffffftttttttttt. Into the bucket.

He shrugged his shoulders at me and sauntered up the steps.

I tried again. "Meggie. Let's go. There's more sand out here. Better sand. Softer sand."

She didn't move. I sighed and set up my chair and towels a short distance from the roped-off dunes where I could watch as she dug tunnels in the pathway. Our Meggie's always gone her own way. I know it'll serve her well when she's older. Haven't I always been this way, too?

I was sort of frustrated. I had envisioned us down by the water, building moats and turrets and giggling at sand crab soldiers. Here we were: stuck on the hottest part of the beach in the duney-sand drifts.

She's missing the best part, I thought. There's so much more out here than her little patch of sand. She was so eager to dig that she settled for the first bit of sand that she found. I can't believe she'd rather dig there when she could have THIS. The vast Atlantic ocean galloped up the shore, foamy. Seagulls dipped.

And yet - she's content there. She has all she needs there. She's happy. She's digging. She's oblivious to all around her, working on her project.

I let her be.

It made me wonder: how often in life do we miss the big picture, the greatness that God has planned for our lives because we're so focused on the little patch of life, the immediate life that we can see, the limited scope? How much more could we experience just by lifting our heads and plugging on?

OR.

Why do we need the big ocean, the big sand, the big? How much more could we enjoy the little patch of life, the immediate life that we can see, the limited scope if we only learned to appreciate what's there? There is contentment in the small sand.

I don't know. I don't even have an ending. But I do love the questions. What do you think?

Sick as a Dog

2012-01-17T21:15:00.000-06:00

The WAIL erupted last night at 9:45 pm.

Kyle and looked at each other, eyebrows raised.

The WAIL could only mean one thing. Alice Virginia has a fever.

Poor baby's been sick all day. When she refused to eat at 10:00 pm and again this morning, I knew it was bad. I searched the house over for motrin, but we only had tylenol. I gave her that in four hour doses until Kyle came home early from work and picked some up from the store. She just looks so pitiful with purplish-red, goopy eyes and a quivering lip. UGH - It's just the worst having sick babies when they can't fully express what hurts and you can't be sure you're treating the right stuff.

All day I felt grateful for the opportunity I have to stay home with my girls every day. I'm thankful that I have the time to hold them when they're sick and nurse them back to health again. Time off to take care of them is built into my benefits. :)

The low point was this afternoon when I knew the tylenol wasn't working and had to get the fever down. I drew a luke warm bath and plopped both girls in the water. My sweet AV screamed and screamed - I knew it must've felt like ice water to her fevered skin. I kept her in there for a few minutes and then wrapped her in a towel. Shortly after, Kyle pulled in and he watched Meggie while I rocked AV in Meg's big rocking chair. She slept, and with the motrin in her system and the effects of the cool water, I felt her fever come down.

Her fever's not broken yet, but she's sleeping in her bed. We're crossing our fingers for a good night.

We did have a couple good minutes this morning when I was able to do "blanket time" with the girls. Blanket time is a special time where we practice "self-control" by sitting on a blanket, reading stories, and singing songs. Usually Meggie and I do it right after Baby Girl goes down for her morning nap to get in some Meggie-Mama time, but this morning we made room for AV.

And, yes, that IS my 2 year-old singing "Eternal Father Strong to Save" (The Navy Hymn). Her Navy, musician daddy's taught her well. I've included the lyrics so you can be suitably impressed by the words she's singing. :) We LOVE that she loves music - and especially singing hymns. She's always making a joyful noise about something around these parts.

Eternal Father, strong to save,

Whose arm hath bound the restless wave,

Who bidd'st the mighty ocean deep

Its own appointed limits keep;

Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee,

For those in peril on the sea!

House on the Market Monday

2012-01-16T20:12:00.000-06:00

We had big plans for MLK day. Like going to the zoo with a picnic lunch. It's on our must do one last time before we move list.

But then our realtor called and asked if we could do a showing today at 1:00 pm. We told ourselves we could hurry up and still make it to the zoo, but instead, we spent all morning prepping for the unknown guests. Having your house on the market causes strange conflicts in emotions and thought at every turn. On the one hand, you rejoice that someone's really interested and your hopes are inflated that THIS could be the one. On the other hand, you silently flay them as you fly around getting ready for ruining your plans on a day off and think positively bitter thoughts like they probably will never make an offer anyway. And NO ONE will ever, ever, ever want to buy our house.

We've got it down to a science of who does what and we think we make a good team. Kyle generally starts in our bathroom and closet and works his way to the kitchen. I start in the kitchen, do the straightening and dusting in the living and dining rooms, and clean the girl's rooms. Then, I scoop up Douglass and load him and the girls into the car. I pull Kyle's car into the driveway and sweep the front stoop. Meanwhile, Kyle vacuums himself out on the inside. It was our 12th showing.

So we cleaned all morning and ate lunch at Chipotle while they came through.

It was a late naptime for the girls after lunch. I gave AV her bottle while Kyle put Meg down in her room. Now, we've had to go drastic and take everything - absolutely everything - out of her room so that she'll settle down and go to sleep. Only, with a showing, we had to "place" everything back in there. Kyle told me that all during her night-night routine she kept eying her books and asking about the books. It was obvious that she had big plans to read and NOT to sleep. So Kyle told me that he picked up the whole bookcase and carted it out into the hall.

From AV's bedroom and in premature teenage fashion, I heard Meggie throw herself onto the floor and scream, "NOOOOO, DADDY! I WANT MEGGIE'S BOOKS. BOOOOOOOKKKKKKKKSSSSSSSS. BOOKS NOOOOOOOOOW." We listened to the tired tantrum for a few minutes before she eventually fell asleep.

But, we discovered on getting her up that we had made the mistake of leaving a box of diapers in her closet. All of the diapers were strewn about her carpet and she'd even swaddled one entirely around her sound machine. Creativity is one of her strengths. She also has a habit of diapering her bible. :)

After naptime, we didn't want to risk the house getting messed up again, so we went on a walk until dinner time - which was leftovers, thank goodness. I did not have it anywhere within my bones to make supper.

On our walk. AV was ready to fall asleep. Meggie was running out beside the stroller at this point, so all the pictures I have of her are blurry.

Dinner's done. Girls in bed. Kyle strumming on his electric guitar. It's been an ordinary day, but one of working together.

A run-of-the-mill, house-on-the-market Monday.

On Change

2012-01-15T22:14:00.000-06:00

I usually wouldn’t write when I’m feeling this emotional - at least not for anyone else to read - because the introvert in me likes to portray an “I’ve got it all together” image. But I learned several years ago that communion comes from being honest and the sharing of our trials. Putting on my brave face, then, I want to share some of my current trials with you - so that we can share in life together.

We’re in a season of change right now (our house on the market, moving, my grandmother recently passed away, starting a new business, Meggie’s move to big girl things, and a - relatively - new baby), and I like to think that I’m handling it all gracefully. When it comes right down to it, though, I feel like I’m failing at this graceful changing thing daily. I’m a Type A personality and therefore have a difficult time accepting my inability to control things and “let them go.” So, I write to work things out in my mind. In counseling, we call this “expressive writing.” For me, I call it: letting go, processing, the muddled becoming unmuddled. Moving on. A prayer.

This post is supposed to be about breastfeeding, or the lack of breastfeeding (I’ll get to that in a minute), but it’s really about change.

Change for which I don’t feel ready. Change from which I’m hiding until I absolutely have to face it. Because I had lunch with a dear friend a few days ago and she asked about our plans for moving and I told her that it was up in the air because we haven’t sold our house yet, but Kyle’s orders are no later than March 31st, so it’ll probably be in the next month or so, and then I cried. I cry every time I let my mind “go there” and process what it will be like to actually drive away from this place - from these people - that I love.

Because even though I’ve moved before and even though I said “I do” to a Navy man and supposedly knew what kind of life that meant and even though it’s where we’re meant to go, it still doesn’t make it easy. All the knowing doesn’t make my heart stop hurting or make the change any less real.

If anything, the “going there” brings back a memory from fifth grade. One of those “clear-as-anything” pictures where I can still smell the chalk and see my name scrawled in cursive across my desk and sniff the hairspray aroma from Mrs. Spivey’s perm. I’m in my classroom and my best friend from preschool motions me over with a solemn expression. “I’ve got some bad news,” she said. “My dad got a new job in Wisconsin and we’re moving there.”

Wisconsin? I’ve always been horrible at geography and even then couldn’t picture this new place in my mind. I just knew it sounded far away and foreign and that it meant we wouldn’t be going to Ligon Middle School together in the fall.

After that day I remember praying that God would move my family, too. Anywhere. Just so that I wouldn’t be left alone, so that I could have my own new adventure. A few months later, my dad sat our family down for a meeting and shared that, “We’re going to be like the pioneers and move somewhere far away. We’re going to Ohio.”

Ohio? Again, I had no concept as to place, but I just felt for sure it had to be closer to Wisconsin. Anywhere nearer to her had to be better than being here in the familiar but far away.

Because when I make friendships, I make them deep. And strong. And long-lasting.

Especially these ones. These friendships I’ve built in our home now. When, for the last three years, I haven’t been able to count on the physical presence of my husband - but I have been able to count on the nearness of my friends.

Being in the military means that it’s your husband who sometimes feels like the stranger, and the other wives, my friends here, who seem like your husband. And finishing my master’s, having two babies, and living alone for the majority of the last three years has changed me. I’m not the same girl from before this sea tour. Just like he’s not the same man, not the same pilot. While the biggest part of me rejoices that we’re going to be a family for the first time in three years, there’s still part of me that’s scared. Scared because this move means that our family’s starting over without my support network; there’s beauty in this thought, but there’s also trembling. For the first time in three years it’ll be just the two of us again plus two little ones. Rejoicing and fear.

It’s change for which I’m not quite ready.

Right before Christmas we reached our desperation point. Her development was fine. Her weight gain was above average. By all superficial accounts AV was doing well - as were we. But, for the five months leading up to the desperation point, all I could think about - or talk about - was how little she was eating, how little she was sleeping. AV could eat about 1 or 2 ounces before arching away, screeching, throwing herself out of my arms, crying. Sometimes, the let down would come and she’d refuse to eat after that. Because her little tummy could only take a few ounces per feeding, she’d want to eat every few hours over a 24 hour period. She was exhausted. We were beyond exhausted. Meggie needed us, too. I kept hoping it would get better when she ate solid food, but trying that just seemed to make it worse.

Without dragging out all the details of our trials again, I did all that I possibly could to sustain our nursing relationship - and I believe she did, too.

The whole experience conjures up this intense memory for me of being in the labor and delivery room with Meggie. I’m sitting on this birthing ball, 12 hours worth of pitocin dripping into my arm without pain medication and no dilation, I’m running a fever, throwing-up, and it’s raining outside. Kyle’s in a rocking chair right beside me, holding my hand as another pitocin contraction doubles me up. I rest my head on the side of the bed and I know what I need to do. I know that if I want to make it through this delivery with a vaginal birth I’m going to need to get an epidural. Silently, I grieve the natural birth experience that I wanted, and ask Kyle to call the nurse. It’s time. I needed to do what had to be done for me, my anxious husband, my unborn baby.

But even though I did what she needed me to do, even though what we’re doing now is filling up her tummy without any pain, even though she’s still getting the milk I’m making for her, it still doesn’t make it easy. All the knowing still doesn’t make my heart stop hurting, or my connection to her feel the same.

When we started trying her on a pumped bottle right before Christmas, there was a secret, selfish part of me that hoped she wouldn’t like them. That she’d dislike bottles so much that we’d have no choice but to soldier on in nursing. She was confused in the beginning, but as long as I was the one giving them to her, she began to accept the newness. Gradually, and with the introduction of medication 3x a day, she began to increase her intake. I found that I had to cradle her almost upright with the bottle almost parallel to the ground so that not only is the flow consistent, but it’s slow and controlled by her mouth.

We’re at a point now that we liken to a baby about 8 weeks old. She still takes a 10:00 bottle and then wakes up sometime between 3 and 4 am for another feeding. After that she goes down until 7:30.

We’re at a point now that is so much better than where we were. We’re at a point now that is survivable - and I can tell a difference in the overall well-being of our family, and in her level of contentedness. She sleeps now. She gets excited to eat now. She’s on a schedule now. She’s growing into herself now.

These are all good things. Optimal things. I’m proud of where we are - it feels so good after five excruciating months of worry, pain, exhaustion, doubt, fear, etc.

And yet.

She gets excited when she hears the beeper of the bottle-warmer. Her legs start bouncing and her arms start waving when she sees me coming with a bottle. She doesn’t care anymore whether it’s breastmilk or formula - she readily takes both. She’s stopped nuzzling into me when she’s hungry. Meggie carries around a bottle for her babies now instead of trying to nurse them, modeling what she sees.

I started giving her bottles because it’s what she needed, and now I have to give her bottles because it’s what she wants.

Despite the knowing it’s best, it’s changing for the good, it’s the parental call that I had to make, sensing her excitement over food from the bottle feels like rejection. Like she doesn’t need me in the same way anymore. Like I suddenly don’t have my baby anymore.

I wasn’t ready to stop. I needed to stop for her health and for our family’s well-being, but I wasn’t ready.

Several weeks ago when the bottle experiment began, I had one last nursing session “in case” the bottle experiment worked. I chose the feeding at bedtime, when she was always most relaxed. When Meggie was in the bed and I could just focus on AV. I curled her around my body and with every second, memorized her profile there. She had this habit of drawing her hand up and down - grabbing a necklace if I was wearing one. I smelled her AV, baby powder hair and said “good-bye” to nursing her if that’s what she needed me to do.

There’s bonding in bottle feeding, too - I don’t want to diminish that. We still do the same cuddling. I wrap her up in her special bah-bah and get to gaze full-on into her face. We share a lot of eye contact and I whisper that I love her over and over. She still runs her hand over the blanket and sometimes grabs onto mine over the bottle. These are sweet moments, too. But, right now, I’m struggling with feeling like this is a moment anyone could share with her - not just made especially for her mama.

I miss feeling like my body was 100% providing for her. I miss just a few weeks ago - even in the thick of the worst - the way she would reach for me and fold into me and want me. When I embodied food and safety and comfort in a special way to her; when just being held in my arms made her stop crying because she knew I had what she needed. I miss the intimate connection that only I had with her - through growing her in my body, birthing her from my body, sustaining her with my body.

In the end, though, it’s like my earnest, even-keel, (sometimes irritatingly) logical husband spoke to me tonight when I was doubting my decision once again, “You’re right. Perhaps she is just a fast eater and she was getting enough milk breastfeeding. We just know that for whatever reason - probably the acid reflux - that she was unhappy.”

I know there’s so much more to mothering than breastfeeding your child - or even the duration you breastfeed your child. There’s snuggles and kisses and teaching and encouraging and setting free. And there’s meeting basic needs - which has to trump my feelings. A kind and wise friend - one of my tribe here - counseled me: “Shannon, she doesn’t care how she gets fed, all that she cares about is that her tummy is full and that she’s safe and protected. She’s going to know you’re her mother when you meet her needs day after day; not by how you meet them.” Her advice got me through the worst of the decision-making. But, I think I’ll always miss the intimacy of that connection with her.

This change, all of it, feels achingly premature to me.

It’s been a few days since I finished writing this beat-the-horse dead, way-too-long post. Getting it all down helped me lay it down. I woke up the morning after feeling renewed, strengthened. In other words, I can feed AV a bottle without tearing up. Although I did get weepy in church today envisioning saying good-bye to our church family. Above all - this is what I know to be true. Our God is faithful and none of these feelings - or anything you feel - is unknown to Him. The truth of it is that everything is “together” and is being worked together - overall I rest in the promise that this all has a purpose and that purpose is good.

Bless you if you’re still reading this far! :)

AV's Game

2012-01-14T22:16:00.000-06:00

On FB, I referenced a post about change that I stayed up until the wee hours of the morning last night writing and crying...writing and crying...

the end result was about five pages long and makes me feel extremely vulnerable. I said that if I was feeling brave I would post part of it tonight.

Ok. So, I WILL post it. The following is NOT a cop out post. It's just that we had a fantastic, but late (for us) night celebrating a belated New Year's with our dear friends, The Jeppersons, and I'm wiped out. That and I discovered an amazing Masterpiece Theater mini series that is on the new release section of Netflix. I have some important catching up to do on "Downton Abbey." I'm in British classic heaven and just want to curl up with some hot chocolate and lose myself in early 1900s aristocracy.

In the meantime, a little darling part of AV's personality is really starting to shine through the babyness. This girl loves to play games - and loves to laugh. Last night, I fed her her last bottle, prayed, sang her song and wrapped her up in her cribbey. She still sleeps loosely swaddled with a bah-bah in the swaddle that she likes to rub on her face to fall asleep. I went to turn off the light, and when I turned back around to whisper, "Night night," one more time, she was peering at me from under her bumper, smiling and giggling.

She didn't have to work very hard to entice me into an impromptu game of peekaboo. After a few minutes, I ran to grab the video camera. I missed most of her good giggles with the camera recording because she was fascinated by the blinking red light, but I did catch some of her cackling laughs.

By this point in the night and after playing with me, she was just a leeeeeeetle tired and a leeeeeeeeetle over stimulated, so you can also hear some hiccups and squeals. The hub ub was so great that both Kyle and Meggie burst into the room to check out "the strange noises emanating from within" as Kyle said.

I included the second video just because she's so sweet I could eat her up everyday. Her voice in the second video is how she sounds right before she falls asleep.

Enjoy!

Cutie Patootie

2012-01-13T23:12:00.001-06:00

She picked out her own outfit today straight down to the fairy t-shirt over pink turtleneck and bright, yellow hairbow.

And then posed.

A future fashionista?

I think yes.

Our Second Baby

2012-01-12T22:33:00.000-06:00

Thursdays are Mama and AV days as Meggie's in school. Growing up as the oldest child and now being married to an oldest child, I always saw things from the oldest child's perspective. But Allie V is a second child, and she's showing me what that's like.

I keep telling myself that she's better off for being the second born. She'll forever have the benefit of a loving older sister, and the life lessons that come along with sharing - sharing parents, toys, space, a room, etc. As an adult, she'll communicate well with peers and empathize. It's not always helpful to have the sole attention of your parents. There's still this part of me, though, that yearns to spend the same amount of time (and quality of time!) with AV that I was able to with Meggie.

On Thursdays we have that opportunity. Unfortunately, there's also many things are just more easily accomplished with one baby - that means a lot of my "to do" errands are saved for Thursdays. I had several of those on the docket today - with the post office, my personal nemesis, on the top. When I picked her up from her morning nap, though, snuggled her warm, soft cheeks and cuddled her as she ate, and pictured with trepidation having to haul her back out to the van again, I made a decision. I wanted to devote a whole morning just to her. Talk with her, play, sing songs, experiment with green beans again (eek!), and read stories.

She always shares me, and especially if we ever have another baby, she's always going to know sharing and someone else. I don't want her sweet little spirit to get lost in all the pulls of life.

I chose her over my "to do" list today and it felt good.

My mom said something recently to me in passing that's been bothering me - I know it's been bothering all the grandparents, too. She confided that in reading my last AV update, it occurred to her that she just doesn't feel like she knows AV like she knows Meggie or knew Meggie back then. Sadly, I think this "unknowing" is another second child phenomenon. So, I made a video today of Miss AV.

~actually, this idea was also inspired by writing my blog post from yesterday and looking back through my posts of Meggie when she was AV's age. I saw that I had all these videos of her doing different things, and watching them again made her "babyness" present to me. I could not believe she was my same big girl, now. AND, then, I was captivated by this fear that I have NO videos of AV and that I'd never be able to recall what she sounded like, what expressions her eyebrows make, exactly how precious her chubby fingers look when they reach for a toy. I was pretty frantic and resolute in wanting to capture her on film today.~

If you're not a relative of Alice Virginia (and maybe even if you are), this video will be long. But, it's not really for entertainment. It's for a mother to remember and for grandparents to know the sweetness and gentleness and miracle that is Allie V on any old given day.

And, AV, we want you to know that even though you're our second baby girl, there's no one else exactly like you ever, anywhere. And because you're perfectly you, there's no one else that can be loved exactly like we love you ever, anywhere. And even though you're our second baby girl, having you felt just like the first time because it was the first time for YOU and the first time for US with YOU. And everyday you show us a different, new, wondrous thing about raising a little girl.

We love you so very, very much.

Worth the Labor

2012-01-11T22:14:00.001-06:00

There's nothing like the blustering winds of an "arctic blast" and an unexpected snowstorm to make you want to hunker down, all cozy-like. That's what's happening here tonight, and Kyle and I've already expressed to each other how much we'll miss that howling sound down our chimney and around the corners of our backyard when we move.

We've had an ordinary day today - napping, strolling, grocery-shopping - except for one extraordinary moment of which I'm fixing to tell.

This "being 2-years-old" business feels so fresh to me. I guess I got kind of blindsided because I gave birth to a new baby a few months before Meggie's second birthday. Now, I do remember well the "new born baby time warp" that happened after Meggie - where I don't even remember September and October and then there we were at Christmas and I had a four month old. But, it was just the three of us then. Kyle and I were so absorbed in our only baby girl that the time warp was ok.

This time, though, I feel like I really missed the passage of time in regards to our oldest baby. As in, before AV we had our baby, Meggie, and then six months later I've caught my breath, looked up, and here we are with our two-year-old, Meggie.

What it's marked by in our house is grand swings of emotions. Big, loud: "No NO Nos" and emphatic: "Whoa Whoa WHOAs" and thrashing: "I DO IT BY SELFs!" Wild, body swings onto the floor. Gulping, sobbing, unintelligible screams. She can do so much and yet still needs so much. Frustrations. Disappointments.

And, even though there are just as often moments of brilliance...Of incredible cuteness and pertness and lovely smiles and astounding discovery. Where she says these phrases and my mama heart swells and I can't get enough of her and I think: I'm really doing something good, here...

...most days it feels like the battle lines are drawn.

I want her to do what I want her to do...and she wants to do NOT what I want her to do.

And on those days it takes a herculean effort for me to remember that I'm the adult and not the 2-year-old, screaming.

Today, something momentous happened. Meggie girl'd been up for hours. Kyle told me at dinner that she pulls back her blinds every morning and waves him bye-bye. Which means that she's awake at least before 6:00.

I knew she was tired. By 9:00 this morning, she was stumbling over her feet. When it was time for naps, she was barely walking a straight line. I had put AV down a little earlier, and had Meggie all to myself. I snuggled down into her big, brown rocking chair and pulled her up into my lap. For the first time in a long time, she didn't thrash or kick or squirm away, my independent girl.

She let me wrap her up in our soft, "Big Bah-Bah" and tuck her head into my shoulder. She asked me to sing "Sanctuary" and then "Be Thou My Vision" again and again. We rocked together. I closed my eyes, the warmth of her gangly body and the whispies of her hair lulling even me. When I opened them again, she was asleep in my arms. For the first time in a long time, I held her still frame and studied her long eyelashes, fluttering against her rosy cheeks.

For the first time in a long time, I saw my baby in my 2-year-old's face. I realized: she still needs me. This big girl, she still needs me. And, she still needs to be the baby sometimes. She still needs the cuddles - despite the I do it by selfs. It felt just like the old days when we spent all of our time together, uninterrupted. It's been a long six months for her, too.

And, then, for the first time in a long time, as I held her surrendered in sleep, it felt like we were again on the same team, working for the same purpose. Of growing and urging and pointing out the right way. And, oh Lord, I remembered that You knew that we needed each other - exactly as we are for each other - to teach each other. He who gave us to each other in His perfect timing has begun a good work in me and in her and will not stop until it's accomplished. A holy work.

Through two-years-old, we're being refined together, needing each other together. I think she and I both needed that encouragement today.

And it made me remember what I vowed to do and be for her, when I was a first-time parent and she was my only little one to love, and when the emphasis then wasn't so much on refining as it was on learning, cherishing. For the first time in a long time, I remembered how much we've already been through together and the purpose in what lies ahead. I stayed with her for several minutes relishing her sleepy weight. When I finally laid her down, tucking the blankets around her, I whispered, "thank you, God, for creating Meggie. Thank you for giving her to me and trusting her to my care."

For the first time in a long time, the 2-year-old hard felt worth the labor.

She is worth the labor.

Why I Wasn't Surprised to Find Her like This...and What she was Doing.

2012-01-11T12:04:00.000-06:00

I was an exasperating child to raise. Or so they tell me.

In fact, my mother oft repeats that her daily mantra when I was little was:

"At least she'll be a productive adult. At least she'll be a productive adult."

Kyle's mama tells the story of when she desperately needed her first born's naptime to be here. And be here NOW. Only 2-year-old Kyle could tell time so he knew when she was bluffing. So, when he toddled away, she would wind the hands on the clocks up and he'd practically put himself to bed.

And, then, of course there's this legend of lore. Kyle's four years older than his next brother, Pete. When Pete was a baby, Kyle's parents left the boys alone on the couch for just a minute while they stepped into the other room. They left with the strict instructions:

"DO NOT PICK UP YOUR BROTHER!"

They came back to find both boys playing happily on the floor of the living room - three rooms away from where they were supposed to be. To their protests, Kyle simply said with a shrug of his shoulders:

"But I didn't pick him up. I rolled him."

So, I can't say that I was surprised to encounter this scenario after I left Meggie stationed in front of her video while I fed AV in the bedroom:

I guess she got hungry and didn't feel like waiting around for me to finish feeding her sister.

The rule at our house is that she's not old enough to touch knives yet. She says to me: "I no-no touch a knife, Mama. Meggie use a spoon.!"

And she was just as proud as can be.

Oh. She also helped herself to some milk.

I Owe Someone an Apology

2012-01-09T21:59:00.000-06:00

I've been feeling guilty about something lately and it's time to fess up.

Three years ago when Kyle and I were searching for a house to buy in Edmond, we had several qualifications:

our house had to be within five minutes from I-35
we wanted a neighborhood with space and trees
our house had to have a fenced-in backyard for douglass
we needed something as close to OSU as possible for me while still being near Tinker for Kyle

While still in Enid, we found the right neighborhood. It's the one we eventually settled in.

So. The day that we drove around with realters, they lined up several houses to see in our neighborhood. On the way to the one for sale across the street from the one we ended up buying, the realter told us this story. He said:

"The sellers of the house we're getting ready to see are desperate to sell. He's already had to move on business, and she's ready to join him. They've already come down on the price and I bet we could get them down even further. Let's see how you like it."

His voice insinuated that he thought this house was going to be The One for us. But, as we stepped over the threshold, I recoiled.

"Why, it's so, so DIRTY!" I thought to myself. The floor hadn't been vacuumed, piles of blankets were tucked behind the couch. Fingerprints littered the windows and it smelled like dog. Like the pack of three dogs blinking at us from out in the back yard. Later, we learned that our neighbors had coined this house the "Mud Dog House" because of the three dogs that lived in the back yard, digging up dirt and flinging mud everywhere.

Even as we began the tour of the house, my nose crinkling, I knew there was no way we'd ever make an offer on it - desperate sellers and all. It was our first house, after all, and I wanted something pristine, new. We were also young and naive.

One of the first bedrooms we came to was obviously a nursery. A baby girl's room. "Madeline" was painted in sweet purple and green letters above the crib; she was a newborn. Being the childless 24-year-old I was, it never occurred to me that there might be some SMALL correlation between the newborn nursery and the state of cleanliness.

Because. Y'all. Today as I scrambled madly around trying to whip this place into something resembling a house on the market for our first showing since Christmas, I was shouting on the inside to my former self:

"You CRAZY person! You insensitive bafoon! How could you think those things??? How could you throw that house out because it wasn't as clean as you'd like? Have mercy on a poor mother. A poor mother who got her hopes up every time someone showed interest and scrambled around trying to clean - and feed - and pump - and change - and burp - and - and - and! Who was separated from her husband, too!"

Please - help a sister out, you know? Have pity!

I owe someone an apology. I'm telling you. Because showing a house with two babies ain't no joke.

Former neighbor of ours, if you're reading this: I'm sorry I was so judgmental. I rue the day I ever judged, and I'm paying my penance now.

People who looked at our house tonight, if you're reading this: Please excuse the fingerprints on the window, the toys shoved under the coffee table, the smell of something rotting in the fridge. Just overlook the toothpaste smeared on the bathroom mirror, and the bottle warmer tucked into the guest bathroom. The carpet's really not that dingy - it just had a quick run in with some chocolate milk. I promise you'll love the ground in crayons on the floor - those blues and greens really do bring out a multitude of shades. And, oh, I am sorry about the rooster that crowed as you closed the baby's door. We haven't been able to find that puzzle piece for a while now. I hope we didn't scare you off. :)

I just have to say, too, that I am definitely missing a major picture in here. It's of Meggie's shennanigans while we were straightening up. She's gotten into the habit (while exploring her new freedom during naptime) of taking everything out of her drawers and creating new outfits. When we left the house for the showing, she had on the top I put her in this morning, blue and pink flowered pj pants and her oversized pink and green galoshes. She's got spunk and opinions, that's for sure.

Then, when we were at the Mexican restaurant for dinner, she ate none of her quesadilla, but all of the queso straight out of the bowl with her spoon. We were too pooped to care. :)

Well, and I guess I should also mention (since I'm confessing and all), that it would be far easier to focus on all my wifely tasks if these girls weren't so incredibly cute. I mean, just look what we did all day when we weren't cleaning...

we teethed on a ball

really, really teethed. with gusto.

gazed at douglass

oh, look! we found something on our head.

"Mama? What IS this silly contraption on my head?"

it's kinda tasty, I guess.

we got distracted from our bow and chewed on our fingers. fingers are good for that.

And then we teethed on the bow.

really, really teethed on the bow. with gusto.

and then it was back to work time. we all look a little less enthused.

Easier

2012-01-08T23:06:00.000-06:00

Kyle returned tonight from a weekend trip down to Corpus to check out the area. Neither of us had been there before this weekend. He'd made some appointments to see houses (we're renting) and to scope out the base.

This trip was particularly hard on me because it felt like it made the move "real." I've been surviving in denial. I kept telling myself to "get a grip - you used to survive month long deployments for three years - a weekend is nothing" but it didn't really work. I was lonely. And tired. TIRED. I practically begged my mom to come down here from SC and give me a break from the night hours with these girls, and I never do that. I went to college 1,000 miles away from home on purpose because I'm Miss Independent. But, and I'm serious, I'm checking into a hotel the minute Kyle gets home to sleep for an uninterrupted night or going by myself up to visit Lauren in Manhattan (up for that Laur Laur?) or at least buying ear plugs and letting him take a shift.

Anyway, he said that the trip was successful. He didn't lease a house because our house hasn't sold here yet, but he did feel like he got a good idea of where he wants us to live - that way we'll be able to sign a lease from long-distance when we're closer to that time based on the location of the property. He told me that "it's no Edmond, OK with the space we have here," and that I'll probably loathe it for a good six months until we really settle in. :) I think that's true of any new place when you move - until it starts to feel like home.

I'm headed to bed early (er) for me tonight, so I decided to post something I was working on around Halloween/October this year with our pictures from the pumpkin patch...I never got around to posting it because my pictures weren't loading that night, and now I can't remember what I was writing about/where I was going in my thought process for the life of me. Baby brain! :) Well, at least almost-seven-months-post-pregnancy baby brain. You'll at least get to see the pictures now and read half of what I had finished.

Lately, with all we've had going on, Kyle and I've found ourselves repeating a certain phrase:

"If only the girls were older, this would be easier."

As in: If only the girls were older, this road trip would be easier. If only the girls were older, this hotel stay would be easier. If only the girls were older, this move would be easier. This drive, this getting ready, this deployment, this new business, this house on the market would be easier.

We sigh together and trudge on, the physical demands of having young children feeling like an anchor, an unequal yoke.

I was in church on Sunday, singing with my arm around Kyle, who was taking a morning off of playing in the band, when the pager buzzed in my hand.

Alice Virginia. I knew for which one of my babies this call tolled. A memory, a feeling swept over me with that buzzer in my hand, of three years ago watching other mothers get called out of Sunday School and church for their children. A yearning deep within my heart that I tried to bury with graduate school, a yearning for my own baby to call me from my studies, of being needed, being the only one that could soothe.

Striding my way through the crowd to my youngest, I felt grateful. I felt complete, a peacefulness of gifts realized, fulfillment.

during the days when she'd still fall asleep on me...she fell asleep during the hayride right after this was taken.

I have these babes that my soul desired. That pager in my hand, buzzing, Alice Virginia crying for me, reminded me that while time may make things easier, time will alter their needs, loves, fears, babyhood.

I realized that I'm not ready for 'easier' yet.

the petting zoo

this was a very presumptuous donkey. he scared meggie by following her around searching for food.

once kyle and I sat in those hammocks and dreamed of bringing our baby here...

she was born to be on a farm, don't you think?

A Little Alice Virginia News

2012-01-07T21:44:00.001-06:00

Today I write of Alice Virginia. Or, at least, in more detail than I usually do these days. Usually, busyness takes over and I manage to jot down a few lines and slap up some pictures. All the while hoping that a tiny bit of the abundant love I feel for these two blessings eeks through the hurry.

Before she turns seven months - SEVEN MONTHS! - next week, I wanted to capture her sixth month:

My Alice Virginia, at six months she:

weighs 22.9 lbs (100+%)
are 28 inches long (100+%)
rolls from her tummy to her back - but still not the other way around
is sitting up by herself
likes to watch and laugh at her sister
is content to observe life
still likes her swing - and even takes naps there sometimes
but is growing fonder of bouncing in her exersaucer (the struggle is keeping big sister out of there)
has three teeth on the bottom and at least two more on the way
reaches out for anything she can grab - usually sister's hair or my cup
claps her hands
is beginning to blow bubbles and say, "dah dah dah dah"
loves classical music
rubs her soft rabbit blanket on her face to fall asleep
loves to be in the company of people
has tried rice cereal, bananas, pears, sweet potatoes, and carrots - by far, her favorite are pears
takes 3 naps per day - usually 2 one-and-a-half or two-hour-naps and 1 thirty minute cat nap in the late afternoon
eats 5-6 bottles a day - between 25 and 30 ounces
makes these sweet cooing noises when she knows nap time is coming - as if to say, "thank you, thank you for putting me in my bed!"
is snuggly, warm, happy

Alice Virginia has acid reflux. You wouldn't know it to look at her, but it's gotten so bad that she was barely eating one ounce per feeding. What started as a seemingly innocuous sound of discomfort as a newborn has, over time and untreated, become an issue that's consumed our days and NIGHTS for the last five months.

The mastitis I got at six weeks - after her two, right-on-track, blissful nights of 8-hours sleep - exasperated an already existing problem. My temporarily fast flow made her begin rejecting sides - stirring up the acid. We came to a point - just a few weeks ago - where she screamed and arched away after one ounce of either breast or bottle.

Kyle and I made an agonizing decision during AV's sixth month. Because eating caused her so much pain, we decided to switch from breastfeeding to pumping milk and giving her bottles. We did this so that we can feed her sitting up, make sure she sits up after feeding, and help her keep the food down - we did this, also, because our whole family was suffering from lack of sleep.

This decision was painful because I LOVE breastfeeding my babies, and believe nursing is the best source of nutrition and bonding for mother and baby. I nursed Meggie for 13 months until we were both ready for her to be weaned. AV and I were not ready to go to bottles. She wanted to nurse, I wasn't ready to lose that connection, and all the mechanics were working - i.e. enough milk, great latch, etc. Believe me, I fought for breastfeeding to work. I've spent countless hours on the phone with lactation consultants, at the pediatrician's office, and in a closeted room with AV away from all distractions.

At the end, though, it just plain hurt her...and because she could only eat a few ounces at a time, the situation was hurting our whole family. For the good of all of us, we switched (there's more I want to say, and I do plan to say it - the whole emotional side of this dilemma - but that's for another day) to bottles.

NOW. AV's eating 4-5 ounces per feeding plus solid food - which we weren't even able to try until a week ago because of the acid reflux. She's down to only waking up once per night. Amen, AMEN! We prop her up against us to eat, snuggling her bah-bah blanket, and hold the bottle almost parallel to the ground. She eats out of a breastflow bottle (a bottle made just for breastfeeding babies) which allows the milk to pool in an outer nipple so that she controls the flow. The consistent and slow flow has helped her reflux issues significantly - as well as taking zantac 3x a day.

We have a GI appointment on February 6th just to check the extent of the reflux and to see if she has any anatomical conditions that could be contributing to the reflux.

We're amazed at the changes we've seen in her already - since the medication, switch to bottles, and more sleep with a full belly. She was always a happy baby, but now we feel like we're experiencing the fullness of her sweet self. AV's laughy, talkative, calm, persistent, sensitive, and smiley. I still keep reminding myself that she's six months old - I feel like she just came into our family...she has a "baby" quality of chubbiness, fragility, and loveliness about her. We're thankful that she's a part of our family - how incomplete it would seem without Alice Virginia.

I love videos of babies trying solid food and took "by accident" this cute video of both girls during lunch today. A couple notes about this video:

1. "wop wop" is a direct result of marrying into a military family - it's the sound a helicopter makes.
2. We were listening to classical music on Kyle's computer and then...wait for it...wait for it...
3. What the heck is Kyle doing with "that" on his computer? :) heh heh heh.

Our AV, here are some pictures from your sixth month of life:

Below are two pictures - the top is Alice Virginia at six months and the bottom is of Meggie at six months. I think they're really beginning to favor now. :)

Lumpity-Dordies

2012-01-06T21:16:00.001-06:00

Today, I've spent hours writing blogs about breastfeeding and loving-your-two-year-old and the reality of military life in my head, and now I'm too tired to write them down.

Last night was a horrible night. Allie V did ok - we've gotten her down to one middle of the night feeding, but she woke up three times. Meggie didn't fall asleep until 10:00 and then fell out of her bed a couple of times, woke up when Allie did, and was up in her room before 6:00 am. (Praying, absolutely praying that the novelty of the bed thing wears off soon.) My cell phone randomly started dying in the middle of the night, so I turned it off and threw it across the room - sorry if you've tried to reach me. And, then, Douglass started whining to go outside at 2:00. We can't just shoo him out because he's been digging under the fence, so somebody has to take him out on the leash which totally defeats the whole purpose of a fenced-in backyard.

We both woke up to a way less than stellar night's rest.

The day went ok except that Allie was off her schedule and Meggie ran out in front of on-coming traffic at the park this afternoon. Kyle just texted with a showing request for tomorrow and there's no way I'm going to get this place ready in time. It's been a week of all I can do to keep everyone asleep, bathed, clothed, and fed.

All of it makes me want to scream: Forget it! I'm not moving anywhere! (Negative attitude about everything alert.)

Normally I would not even post on such a lumpity-dordy kind of day where my emotions are running hay-wire, but I pledged that I would, so there you go. Even the pictures I managed to get at the park of our picnic were pitiful. :)

BUT. Each day has its gifts and all of this mess is being used for my good. It's not everywhere that I can take my children to the park wearing thin cotton blouses in the middle of January, and it was Allie's first time to sit in the grass. We shared a walk with a friend and our babies giggled the whole way round her neighborhood, back and forth with each other. I cuddled with Meggie in her big girl bed - that's a first for us, too. We both loved it and I kept dreaming of a future of nights reading Little House and Nancy Drew with my girls. Alice Virginia ate carrots for dinner and her whole face was stained orange.

she's not so sure about the great outdoors.

she loves her some apples.

mesmerized by some birds.

It's to these small glimpses of Heaven that I cling.

Breakfast

2012-01-05T14:01:00.000-06:00

“Baby’s awake, Mommy! She’s AWAKE!” A voice pipes up right by my ear, right by my bed. I can feel her breath whooshing the tiny hairs there, the baby hairs growing in from her six-month-old sister.

I pop one eye open. She’s smiling, excited, expectant. It’s this new smile where she bares her teeth and squints both eyes closed, tilts her chip up. I have no idea where she learned it. And, again, I think: she’s her own little person. Once, she felt like so much of me, when she was the baby growing inside. Now, I know. She’s herself, unfolding.

I pull the covers back. “Ooookkkkayyy. Let’s go get her.”

“O-K!” she trills and leaps ahead of me, slamming open sister’s door and flinging on the light. Faintly, I hear the crying stop. I hear clammering up the crib; I hear happy coos; I hear sisters.

I wrangle them both, smelling of sleep and as my MIL puts it, “ranch dressing breath,” into their chairs at the table. My contacts aren’t in, so I barely see what I’m doing. Pour their cereal. Meggie drags her chair closer to AV.

“Sit by her, Mommy?” It’s a question. She loves her sister.

I douse everything in milk. Meggie wants me to turn a music video on the computer. Coffee assails my senses after four times up with kids in the night, I’m waking up now.

We bow our heads. We pray. Every caretaking action of these girls a sacred praise. Life is so full.

Meggie tips her bowl with gusto and starts drinking the milk and rice chex along with it. She dumps everything out onto her tray and swirls it around, our scientist.

From nowhere she says: “I’m making a dinosaur, Mommy.”

With one hand I drink my coffee, the other tempts AV with pear-infused rice cereal. Suddenly, I realize: we’re late. It’s a school day for Meggie and we haven’t been anywhere since before Christmas. In my sluggishness, I’ve forgotten how to get us ready on a schedule.

I love solid food time.

One of the differences between Kyle and me that serves as balance in our marriage is that like any good military man, he’s got a perfect sense of time.

I, well, I don’t. I prefer to linger and soak it all in. The slow beauty of our everyday morning turns to bustle. But not before I fully taste the joy here, served along with our cereal, toast, and coffee.

A peculiar thought comes to me as I reflect on breakfast at our house.

My girls are in the breakfast of their lives. They’re new and fresh - toast springing up from hot coils. The day spans before them, unmarred, a promise.

Kyle and I, we’re more like brunch. We’re in the middle - pulling late nights, establishing careers, birthing babies, just beginning to experience more of the world. We know some of what we like - “I’ll take sausage over bacon” - and sometimes, we’re a little hesitant because of the hurts - “I think I’ll save room for dessert later on.”

I like my 20s, but I’m not in love with them either.

I look forward to the five course dinner of my 50s. I hope I have a little plot of earth to plant a vegetable garden in which I’ll wear my floppy straw hat with ribbons. As I’m coaxing up the beans I’ll think about my girls in college or plan their wedding in my imagination. Maybe I’ll savor the last visit I had from my own grandchild. I’ll know for sure what I want to serve up, and I’ll know exactly how Kyle wants his eggs. We’ll have lived enough life to know we love chocolate pie, but if you can, hold the tiramasu.

Do you know what I mean?

We’re breakfasting and brunching here. In what course are you? What’s it like at your house?

Imogene Days

2012-01-04T22:36:00.002-06:00

Kyle says he can always tell what kind of a day it’s been based on the condition of Meggie’s hair.

Yesterday, he came home from work and said she looked just like a real-life version of Imogene Herdman from The Best Christmas Pageant Ever.

I said, “Who’s Imogene Herdman?”

He grinned and said, “You know. The Herdmans.”

And then he quoted: “The Herdmans were absolutely the worst kids in the history of the world. They lied and stole and smoked cigars (even the girls) and talked dirty and hit little kids and cussed their teachers and took the name of the Lord in vain and set fire to Fred Shoemaker’s old broken-down toolhouse.” (Robinson, 1)

I pondered for a moment. My gaze flicked over to our Meggie who was spinning herself in circles beside the couch, raggedy curls hanging in her eyes and sticking to the boogars running from her nose, shouting:

“I dizzy! I dizzy! Whoooooaaaa! I dizzy!”

“Well, yeah, you’re spot on there.” I laughed.

Pure-ty chaos like just from the book has been reigning in our house ever since Meggie first climbed out of the crib. If climbing out of her crib and barging over the baby gate weren’t enough, yesterday she figured out how to wiggle her finger around the baby locks on our cabinets and, somehow, my china butter dish ended up in fragments on the floor.

This morning when Kyle’s alarm went off at five, we found her sitting in the living room with all the lights on, sipping water from her cup on the couch.

I’ve been giving her independent playtime outside in our fenced backyard for about thirty minutes in the morning during AV’s nap. We have grand, expansive windows out the back, so I stay in the kitchen, cleaning up breakfast dishes while surveying her and Douglass, her pal, and listening for stirrings from AV. This morning, I happened to dart in the next room for a brief moment to grab the baby monitor.

When I came back, the yard was quiet. I opened the back door and called. No answer.

Did a quick sweep of the grass, peeking under the deck where a little girl might like to hide. No Meg.

Then, I saw the wide-open, gaping gate. She’s never even tried to open the gate before. I ran through, my heart galloping in my throat, calling. She wasn’t in the front yard, either.

Finally, finally I spied her in the far reaches of our neighbor’s yard. She’d followed Douglass, who dug a hole under the fence and slipped through to see the dogs in the next yard.

I swooped that child up, tucked her under an arm, and trucked her back home. I made her practice coming when I called from various reaches of the house. She’s not leaving five inches from my side for the next month - at least.

It was then I remembered Douglass - who was still wondering about the neighborhood in his moose sweater from my mom for Christmas.

After pumping and changing and wiping noses, I piled both girls in the jogging stroller and canvassed the neighborhood - he was our first baby, after all. It was just as I pictured spending my Wednesday morning - frantically calling for our dog in my sneakers without socks, three day unwashed hair, and maternity sweat pants. Because, yeah, I’m cool enough to wear maternity pants even when I’m not pregnant. :)

The end of the story? It was naptime and everyone was home, safe and tucked in. Desperate times in the escapee department have called for desperate measures and we’ve rigged a system where she can NOT get out, so I was anticipating my first real naptime since Christmas.

The girls were sitting next to each other in Meggie’s big, brown rocking chair, pacis pressing rythmically into their cheeks, hands clasped, eyes on “Madeline” in my arms. “Ok, that’s it. No more books. It’s night night time for little girls,” I said.

My ragamuffin, rapscallion in a soft girly voice: “Mama? Rock a minute?”

So I gathered them up, tucked myself underneath, folded them into me on the seat of her chair, just as we had done for ten long months together, rocking and singing - my hands, heart, lap full of babies.

Despite everything. The panic of losing both Meg and Douglass causing me to eat a whole giant bag of clearance Christmas M&Ms.

A.

Whole.

Bag.

The last couple nights of running a too-big-for-her-britches baby back to bed one hundred times. The dog in a moose sweater running amok. The matching pair of yellowed-boogy faces. The “find-you-paci, wait-a-minute, wanna-watch-a-video, getchu-something-to-drink, wanna-wear-my-undies” wear-my-mama-patience thin questions. The Imogene Herdman hair kind of days.

Despite everything. Despite all that. The weight of them feels so good in my lap. I try and imagine a time where I don’t have a little one to hold, and the thought makes me sad. Makes me almost weep. Because I love these days. Yes, even these. The weight of them and my responsibility to them and the trust that seeps into and out of every moment just like this, building our lives together, is precious.

And I think: may there always be Imogene hair days - the wildness, the sweetness, the exasperation, the exploration, the testing, the glory.

So, bring on the Imogene, my boogey-faced girl, we’ll always be ready to welcome you.

how she finally collapsed in bed last night - lights ablazin' and all. :)

A Big Girl

2012-01-03T20:51:00.000-06:00

Meggie was a new thirteen-months-old when we discovered we were expecting our second bundle. She was tiny to us, still a baby. We determined that she would not lose her "babyhood" - even though she would become The Big Girl at 21 months.

To shelter her, we kept her in her crib, her high chair, diapers. We wanted her to gain the fullness of her time as our baby - to stay a baby as long as she needed to be the baby.

The problem is that we were so wrapped up in the true baby needs of the new baby, that we missed the cues of Meggie's readiness as a big girl, and for the last week, we've been battling her newly-found-breaking-out-of-the-crib freedom.

Today, we gave in. Because we're waiting on our move to buy a big girl bed, Kyle took down one side of her crib. We further safe-proofed her room. That girl's got nothing in there now but some books and a big, fluffy bear. The changing table's in the hallway, and her toys are in sister's closet. We bumped her out of her high chair and buckled in the booster seat.

We all plopped down on her mattress, wrapped her in our arms, and layed out this new foundation:

"Meggie, you're a big girl now. Look at YOU! You're going to sleep in a big girl bed just like Mama and Daddy. No more cribbey for you - baby sister's in her cribbey because she's a BA-BY. You're a BIG GIRL. And no more high chair - that's for BA-BY. Mama and Daddy are trusting Meggie to act like the big girl she is now and stay in her big girl bed at nap-time and night-time. Wowee. Meggie - you're growing up!"

And when we saw the smile that whispered around the corners of her lips, blossoming into fullness as we explained this new world for her - the pride, the independence of it - I knew we'd made the right decision.

It was the right time. Ready or not - she's always doing this - showing us when she's ready even when we lag a couple steps behind.

It was in that smiling moment when I learned a new parenting truth (funny how this having kids things stretches us in profound ways all the time):

Kids want to grow up. They want to. Grow in wisdom and stature; knowledge and truth.

I remembered a pearl of wisdom my Grandmama always says when she recounts the story of how my great-grandfather took out a life insurance policy for her when she went to college and then made her pay for it every month out of her meager allowance, "one of the greatest gifts you can give your children is the gift of independence."

And, as I see this precious first-born of mine change before my very eyes, I know she's not the only one becoming a "big girl" through this experience. Letting her grow is how I grow, too.

Gamecock Ready

2012-01-02T20:33:00.000-06:00

Even Douglass is Gamecock ready!

As the daughter of a college athletics administrator, I grew up around sports.

In fact, my sports savvy is exactly what first captured my husband’s attention back in our high school AP English class.

It was spring time and my dad and I would watch the ACC basketball game of the week on Sunday nights. He’d impart random sporty tidbits to me and I’d ask more questions: what’s that play? why’s the ref doing that? what’s so important about fouling? why would you WANT to foul? What my dad didn’t know back then is that my questions were chock-full of ulterior motivation - to capture the attention of the new guy in my high school AP English class, an obvious sports and basketball fanatic towering in at 6’7’’. :) - grins sheepishly - “Hi, Dad!”

Kyle and our friend, Michael, were discussing stats from the Duke game the night before. I was sitting close, studiously working on my class assignment, listening with half-an-ear to their conversation. They got a stat wrong about Mike Dunleavy. Without glancing up from my paper, I corrected them. And, according to Kyle, that was all she wrote. Four years later we were married.

I grew up trailing my dad through behind-the-scenes arenas, through AD boxes, shaking hands with famed sportscasters and athletes, the best seats. On speaking terms with The Wolf at N.C. State. To me, this exposure was ordinary life and I was proud of my dad’s job.

My dad’s job also caused our family to move several times growing up. Now, I look back and recognize this moving as God’s training me up for a life as a Navy wife. Back then, though, as soon as we left my beloved North Carolina, I vowed to get back as close as I could when I left for college. In 2002 I left Fort Worth, TX and my family’s home for Furman University in Greenville, SC. Three years later, during my senior year, he took a job with the University of South Carolina Gamecocks in Columbia. Oh, my starry-eyed-surprise - their moving close was the best news to me.

We’ve since made many happy memories around Gamecock athletics. Like when Kyle had his “bachelor party” at the South Carolina vs. Tennessee football game and the years we looked forward to the Clemson game with my family over Thanksgiving.

Kyle and 16-month-old Meggie watching last year's bowl game.

Even if it weren’t for Kyle’s interest, sports are becoming part of my girls’ history. On our trip East this year, we met up with Kyle’s brothers (Drew from the Naval Academy and Pete from grad school at Clemson) and tailgated with my family for the South Carolina vs. Navy game. Meggie dressed as a Gamecock cheerleader and ran circles around the parking lot chasing a banner-flying airplane in the sky, stopping only to survey, wide-eyed, the celebratory band. We ate Carolina bbq, gulped Sweet Tea, and Allie V slept within the Snow White blanket cocoon of my mother’s tender arms.

Kyle and cheerleader Meggie

We all took turns on "Meggie Duty." This picture is of Uncle Pete on one of his "return Meggie to home camp runs" during the tailgate. Uncle Drew was off doing Midshipmanny things.

she looks quite cozy, doesn't she?

Meggie also threw a capital T temper tantrum in the AD’s box meeting our long-time family friends, causing them to wryly remark: “We see a lot of you in her, Shannon!” and us to flee the delicate plates of shrimp and toddler handprint-free glass window planes like the Yankees were chasing us home.

Kyle said the only way he'd ever NOT wear Gamecock colors to a Gamecock game would be if they were playing Navy...

After that, my mom and I watched the rest of the game from our hotel room next to the babies who, mercifully, slept.

We have our favorite teams - N.C. State, VA Tech, Navy, TCU, South Carolina, OSU - usually topped by my dad’s current allegiance, and cheer for them in course.

Which made today a special day.

Today, we cheered the Gamecocks against Nebraska on to their first bowl game win in the Capital One bowl in a long, long time. Kyle and I don’t have cable, so all four of us (before naps) crowded around our little computer screen to watch the plays.

Allie was enthralled with the action. :)

Meggie likes to cry, “Football, Daddy! Football! Go cocks!” And Kyle and I like to imagine the future day when we can all go to a game together - and make it through the first quarter. :)

Kyle and Alice Virginia watching the bowl game.

Once we put the girls down, Kyle and I collapsed on our big, red sofa in between taking turns putting Meggie back in the bed. I put Kyle’s mom’s famous artichoke dip on my lap and we ate straight out of the dish - saltiness filling our mouths - Kyle’s arm around my shoulders. Kyle shouted out on different plays - he’s always had this uncanny ability to predict what the sportscasters are going to say - and I let the sounds of the game, the muted fans, the noisemakers, the ESPN theme song, the referee whistle, wash over me like a balm. The music of my childhood, the livelihood of my first family.

So proud of our Gamecocks - and so thankful for my dad, his passion for his work, and the unique edge it brought to my growing up. Though we may have girls, we’re raising up the next generation of sports fans in high fashion and knowledge - their daddy and grandaddy are seeing to that.

little Gamecock in training.

A New Day, Fresh With No Mistakes in It

2012-01-01T22:31:00.002-06:00

As married folk with 2 chickadees, we’ve had a quiet start to 2012. Well, quiet as in we were slumbering before the ball dropped. Loud as in we’re training the Meggie Girl to stay in her room before 7:00 am but she’s not quite there yet. A quiet, but happy start.

Last night after both girls were in bed, Kyle and I had a chance to reflect on the coming new year. I love the idea of a fresh start. As Anne of Green Gables advises, “tomorrow is a new day, fresh with no mistakes in it.” I feel the same about 2012. A big, whole, glorious new day. And, it’ll be a momentous one for our family with our first Navy move in three years. Even though we’re leaving a lot here, the experience feels like a giant clean slate, a chance for reconnection, restoration, to be present and full in each exciting moment. To live simply.

A chance to focus, for us, on what it means to be new.

Our reflections yielded the following conclusions and hopes for 2012:

Kyle wants his motto for 2012 to be “Carpe Diem.” To him, this motto means that in moving to Corpus, we’ve been given an opportunity to reinvent the landscape of ourselves and our marriage after learning to live the last three years apart.

I’ve adopted “Seek Ye First the Kingdom” as my motto for 2012. I hope to intentionally seek God’s will for my life FIRST in every way, everyday. To me and in my stage of life right now, seeking God’s Kingdom means beginning each new day in prayer or God’s word, joining Community Bible Study - to replace BSF (it’s not in Corpus) - when we move, and meditating on the ways in which God has adopted me as his child; I yearn to fully live as a new creation rather than slugging around in the feelings of my “old garments.”

Together, we’ve set these goals for our family in 2012:

Hospitality. These three years on Kyle’s sea tour have been ones where we’ve reaped the blessings of support by our friends and neighbors here in OK. We hope to sow into others while we’re in Texas, opening our home and time to families and individuals who need encouragement, fellowship, and love. We want to be “on the lookout” for opportunities to serve as we’ve been ministered here. It’s important to us, too, that we model hospitality for our girls - that they get comfortable with our house as a mission field.

Simple Living. We see this upcoming move as a chance to purge the unnecessary stuff in our home. We’re going to analyze the utility of EVERY item and keep only those things which have a true purpose and place. Living simply applies to all under our roof - finances, toys, decorations, clothes, even food. Our hope in living simply is that with less material stuff, we’ll have more time, energy, and space to dedicate to what really matters - our children, our marriage, our talents, and other people. We hope to get and stay organized, being intentional with all the resources put within our care.

Exercise. Kyle and I both have sacrificed this area of physical health over the last three years in order to spend more time together or with the children. Because of his deployments, every second he was home became paramount, and unfortunately, exercising got the rub. But, it’s a component of our lives that we don’t want to neglect anymore - for the physical and emotional health benefits. We plan to make it a priority to exercise more routinely. For Kyle, it probably will be running and strength training. For me, it’ll most likely be power-walking with the jogging stroller to the beach - oh yeah. I also hope to lose the rest of my 2011 baby weight - hello, you stubborn last seven pounds.

Write More. Ok, so this one is just mine. I want to get into a better routine of writing - not just to document our growing family, but because it’s one of those things that just reminds me of me - something to which I cling when the “Mommy” in me threatens to overtake all of the “Shannon” in me. To help me stick with this goal, I’ve joined NaBloPoMo for January - it’s a division of BlogHer where we resolve to write a blog post every day of the month. You can click on over by tapping on the badge in my side bar. I may only be able to eek out a sentence somedays of this month, but I’m going to try my hardest and remain faithful to this pledge.

Increase Cooking Repertoire. Another one of mine. I don’t enjoy cooking, but I do love passing on our family’s verbal heritage through food - and making memories of cooking with my girls. I don’t know if I’ll ever truly love being in the kitchen, but I do want to get better at “instinctive cooking” - not just following a recipe, but dreaming up fantastic concoctions all on my own. The only way to get there is to practice. Also, we really want to center the “heart” of our home around the kitchen - so many wonderful things for growing children surround the breaking of bread and we’re going to attempt in 2012, through organizing, decorating, cleaning, and cooking in, to turn our kitchen into a home HEART THROB.

We also thought about our girls and the vision we have for them in 2012.

For Miss Megga-Lill:
We will continue directing her world-view towards God.
We hope to praise and nurture her heart for helping, service, and compassion.
We hope to continue fostering in her respect for self, others, authority, and healthy boundaries (i.e. not climbing out of her bed, staying with us in parking lots, etc.)
We hope to foster her emotional intelligence by labeling emotions and giving her “feeling” words.
By the end of 2012, we will try and help Meggie to: be potty-trained, be weaned of her pacifier, and be transitioned into a big-girl bed.

For Miss Allie V:
We will help her grow into a healthy, happy toddler.We will be vigilant in helping her through her acid reflux - even when it means bottle-feeding and giving torturous medicine 3x a day.
We will help her feel secure through a consistent-as-possible routine.
By the end of 2012, we will try and help Allie V to: be sleeping through the night, be comfortable staying with a baby-sitter, be a confident second-child.

For our move in 2012, we claim these truths:

“whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to please him” (2 Cor 5:9) ... “So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do everything for the glory of God.” (1 Cor 10:31).

We believe that: “He leads me in right paths for his name’s sake” and that in Corpus He has already “prepare(d) a table before me.” Goodness and mercy shall follow us there.

We will: “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances.” (1 Thess. 5:16-18)

For our family in 2012, we claim these truths:

“In the fear of the Lord one has strong confidence, and one’s children will have a refuge.” Proverbs 14:26

“We also constantly give thanks to God for this, that when you received the word of God that you heard from us, you accepted it not as a human word but as what it really is, God’s word, which is also at work in you believers.” (1 Thess. 2:13)

and our children: “For what is our hope or joy or crown of boasting before our Lord Jesus at his coming? Is it not you? Yes, you are our glory and joy!” (1 Thess. 2:19)

To those of y’all that stuck with me through this end, I know it’s more formal than I usually rock it, but it was my sincere hope to write it all out for accountability and remembrance.

Thank you, in advance, for reminding me of today when that moving van pulls away, or I finally weigh myself after Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s, or when I’m reorganizing our closet...again. :)

And, Happy 83rd Birthday to my Grandmama and my girls’ “Gommie” - a source of inspiration, love, and care-taking to me on so many levels. I hope to be a grand old dame just like you one day.

A New Baby

2011-12-30T09:15:00.000-06:00

Kyle's off work today - PTL!

We've been going through a period of trials with our children, and having the extra reinforcement feels amazing to my weary spirit.

AV's involve severe acid reflux, an appointment with a GI specialist, teething five bajillion teeth at the same time, and waking up about five times a night because of it.

case and point. can you see them in there?

Meggie figured out on Christmas Day how to climb out of her crib. Christmas night, she crept from her room to our room three times and flicked on the light shouting, "NIGHT NIGHT ALL DOOOOOONNNNNNEEEEE!" Oh, brother.

The next night we put the baby gate up in her room for her safety (so that she wouldn't be wandering about in the middle of the night) and for our sanity. Yesterday, she figured out how to climb over that.

I mean, can you imagine this sweet thing causing such a ruckus? :)

It's like I told Kyle yesterday: the boundary of the crib is gone and now it feels like she's testing every other boundary to see if they still hold. We're buckling down in the VH household, getting back to basics.

But it's trying.

My Meggie Mae

My Allie Ballie

So, to lighten things up a bit, I wanted to let you in on a little treasure wrapped up for me under the tree this year. This present was one of the last ones to be opened because it looked so inconspicuous, but it was BY FAR my favorite. Wrapped up from my Aunt Pam and Grandmama was a stapled packet of yellowed, shriveled notebook paper with pencil writing and second-grade cartoon drawings. I recognized my own long ago signature: by Shannon O'Connell. It was a story I wrote when I was eight years old, a chapter book from the weeks after my little sister, Becca, was born. As I read it through, I remembered. On the inside I found this note:

"Dear Shan, Many years ago, Grandaddy asked us to keep this to return to you years later. We're keeping that promise this year."

A new baby

A baby sister

The day finly came. My mom said that she was going to have a baby girl. I had aways wished for a sister and now I was going to have one. I could not take my mind off it. She was due in October that was like four months. I could hardly wait. Finly the month of October came. I could hardly wait till the day she was due came. Finly on October 21st my baby sister was born. She had jet black hair and did not cry much and her name was Rebecca. I could hardly wait for her to come home.

later on

It was a Wednesday and my mom and Rebecca were coming home. But I was sick. By the 3rd day I was like what is with my parnents. Rebecca had taken all the love from my parnents that belonged to me. They always said "oo" and "ahh" I did not like it!!!

At 2 months

It is later on and my sister is 2 months. And my sister just does not like to ride in the car. I do not understand it why does she act this way. At 2 months it is a strange stage.

What about me! What about me! You do not love me anymore. I feel like runing away. I want to send that baby back to the baby store.

The end

:) (and it's even better with the pictures, too.)

Well, I guess we all know now where my girls get their dramatic side.

Thank you, Aunt Pam and Uncle Jerry for preserving this for me. I love that you and Grandaddy knew how much I would cherish reading this so many years later - especially now that I have two little sisters of my own.

And, Becca, I love YOU! 20 years later, I'm glad they didn't send you back to the baby store.

Ok, well, this picture is of Becca and me from like six years ago and from my old computer - I couldn't get it to flip around, but let's all just pretend I did!

Becca and Me tailgating at the SC vs. Navy football game this fall. Can you believe she just celebrated her 20th birthday? Also, my mom recently pointed out that Becca and Meggie have the EXACT same shade of hair. I LOVE that. Wouldn't it be funny if Becca's first born popped out with red hair? :)

The Magic Room Book Review

2011-12-28T20:48:00.001-06:00

My diplomas sit in a box in a storage shed, dust resting still on their hard-sought frames. I think of clients I once had when I was interning, where they must be by now in their lives. I remember classes, papers written, friends. Though I write for the love of it now and also for connection, I spend the majority of my time as wife and all of my time as mother to two precious girls. And I’m in that phase of toddler motherhood where the challenge is mostly physical - up all night, getting milk, reading books, pushing strollers, swinging swings, burping babies, catching sliding girls, pigtails flying. I wear sweats and go days without a shower; I don’t remember what it’s like to feel my legs when they’re shaved. I’m in the trenches of young parenting, and most of the time, I revel in the mess, the learning, the sweet innocence.

But, I also miss my femininity. Life sometimes feels slightly out-of-balance, with mommy winning over woman. Over Christmas, then, I read Jeffrey Zaslow’s new book, The Magic Room: A Story About the Love We Wish for our Daughters, which not only helped me remember my life before children, before marriage, it conjured forth the me that was a bride, that dreamed of all the things I daily live. I felt reconnected to that dreamy part of me that looked beyond my veil six years ago and gazed, teary-eyed, on my future husband.

The Magic Room, through the lens of a family-owned bridal shop business in Michigan called Becker’s and the personalities that created it, examines love, marriage, and girlhood dreams. Zaslow journeys with readers through lives of brides and their families - looking at decisions that brought them to the dress shop as well as the shaping influences of the broader culture and how those have changed over the course of Becker’s history.

I’m not usually a nonfiction kinda gal, but this book captivated me as reading it caused me to reflect not only on the reasons why I got married, but also what I want for my own daughters when their time comes, what I want to teach them on their way to finding a husband. Zaslow craftily uses the magic room, a hushed, mirrored, elevated, old bank vault where brides come to view themselves in “the one,” as a vehicle for investigating all that led up to that moment in the lives of American brides and detailing all the hopes for what follows.

He urges readers, through relevant studies, statistics, and trends, to think past the magic room to life after the wedding. Although the research-driven psychologist in me thirsted for heartier discussions of findings in the book, Zaslow gently interweaves his research into the stories of marriage successes and wedding heartaches, allowing readers the opportunity to remember their own engagements or plan more realistically for their own futures.

After reading The Magic Room and dreaming with the brides there, I had the urge to hold my husband tighter, longer. Zaslow’s account, a must read for all who have daughters or long for marriage, is one of wistful pinings, devotion, tragedy, full-circle joy, realistic struggles. In a culture where weddings are idealized, he makes the reader ponder, rightly, the marriage that follows after.

If you’re intrigued, come follow along as we discuss this endearing, heartfelt new book: The Magic Room: A Story About the Love We Wish for our Daughters.

The review above is a paid BlogHer Book Club Review. Although I’m receiving compensation for my participation, the opinions expressed are purely my own - with no pricetag attached. :)

Tidings

2011-12-26T14:50:00.000-06:00

Kyle and I woke up with a slumbering baby between us in the bed on Christmas morning. We deemed it a lovely and appropriate way to start that beautiful day. Meggie called out from her crib soon after and we all piled into our bed - the girls in matching pjs from my parents - to read the Christmas story.

Then, just the four of us opened presents around the tree while breakfast baked in the oven and coffee brewed. Meggie took her care to open each present piece by piece and played with each gift before moving on to the next present. Alice Virginia observed from her Bumbo and ate the occasional bit of paper. We aimed for a simple, old-fashioned Christmas, and it turned out even better than we hoped. We enjoyed having our own "Little House" style celebration, our sweet family giving each other the best gift of one another's company and love.

My favorite gift of the morning is one that I'll be sharing with you in the next few days. I could not believe the treasure under that wrapping paper, let me tell you!

Meggie LOVES books. Notice all the unwrapped gifts behind her...she opened up her first book and dug in. We LOVE that about her.

Because she's really into helping in the kitchen right now, we got her a homemade, vintage child's apron - made by a dear friend from flight school.

Meggie was excited! :)

Alice Virginia was content with the paper.

But she got a lovely outfit along WITH the paper from Grammy and Papa.

Kyle said his favorite present of the morning came when both of his girls curled up to snuggle.

This marks the second Christmas in a row that Meggie's been under the weather. We're waiting on a diagnosis from the doctor before starting antibiotics, but you can really tell she's not feeling her full self.

Allie took one look at this teething toy and said, "Give me that. I NEED that." And chomped away. Or, at least, that's what she WOULD have said if she could talk. :)

We ate breakfast together and headed to church. Allie's pager rang right in the middle, so I missed most of the service. Kyle said it was one of his most favorite messages ever.

Not the greatest picture of the two together ever, but it's the best we could get of them both in their Christmas dresses while we were in a hurry.

A Christmas Doll Baby.

I loved her outfit - we got it with Kaitlin while she was here for Thanksgiving. So, I love thinking of her when I see AV wearing it.

Me and the Meggs. I have several Christmas pictures with my mom and me like this and I just treasure them. I hope Meggie will one day, too.

AV and Mama.

The rest of Christmas day we relaxed, ate sweets from our stockings, and explored new toys. We ended the day by singing Christmas carols with the girls in Meggie's room.

Oh, and I cannot forget a momentous event of Christmas Day - at the end of Meggie's naptime, we heard a door softly shut and then suspicious quiet. Suddenly, Meggie's curly head popped around the corner of the hallway.

"Night night's ALL DONE!" She exclaimed. "Meggie got out of her cribby!" She beamed with pride and independence - we've lasted 28 months in her crib and I fear we've seen the last of being able to contain her in there. She climbed out on her own again this morning. Welp. It was sweet while it lasted. But, it's big girl bed time for us when we get to Corpus.

On Christmas Eve, we got together with our Navy family for a progressive dinner. Everybody came to our house to begin at 3:00 with appetizers. The kids played outside, enjoying the "dusting of snow" still on our deck, and the adults drank cider and talked of Christmas Eve prep and how Santa would visit later that night. We also planned a little program where we read a children's Christmas book and sang carols while Kyle played the guitar.

I set out appetizer stations around the house - this table was by the tree with hot artichoke dip and bacon-wrapped little smokies.

the breakfast table held fruit salad, crescent-wrapped brie with bread, and a 3-cheese tortellini wreath.

I was trying to get the counter top, but I love how this shows friends around the table.

The counter with fresh greenery, candles, beloved trees with homemade ornaments, and friends in the dining room.

On we went to the Jepperson's for soup and salad (how cute is this? Erika served steaming soup from her coffee mugs!), the Heykens' for a main course, and the Wittrock's for dessert. I loved how each house had its own flavor, style of decorating and the food was simply amazing. Each house also had a short activity - the children were well behaved and excited. Along the way we reminisced with each other about how we all met back in Pensacola, all of us newly married without any children. Now, five-and-a-half years later, there are nine kids between us and a multitude of dear, tangible memories - shared experience. As Diana appropriately pointed out at her house, "See this? It's all just a small representation of what Heaven will be like with all believers together."

And it really was. We all were holding everybody else's children, wiping their noses, helping them carry plates of food, cuddling in laps. I never fathomed that beginning a life with Kyle in the Navy many years ago would mean adding such kind, warm people to our family. I feel so immeasurably lucky to have my children know such love - and felt it keenly that night.

Now, I was busy running around and don't have nearly the pictures I wish I did from this night, so girls, if you're reading this - send them my way! :)

Diana had beautiful place settings with everyone's name. She always thinks of the best details.

Her table decor.

Alice Virginia in front of the roaring fire at the Wittrocks.

Even though we got home at 10:00!!! - super past bedtime - I tried to get a few of the girls in their matching jams.

Now, it's the day after Christmas and we're all home together, enjoying Kyle's last day off before heading back to work and the normal routine of our days. It's nice...there's no more preparation, no more gifts to buy and wrap, leftovers for supper...the King has come and we're living in grace. :)

We're wearing our new clothes, Gammy and Papa!

I couldn't choose just one to post on here - they're all too precious. So I'm going to indulge myself and the grandparents a little. hehe.

Oh, we are so teething.

I got Allie this yummy teether from Discovery Toys for Christmas. Meggie had one just like it, but Douglass ate it before #2 came along. Now, we have a suitable replacement! :)

Meg's still sickie, but she's a lovely hairbow model - thank you, Auntie Becca!

lounging with Daddy

What were your favorite Christmas memories from this year?

Merry Christmas to You

2011-12-24T23:55:00.000-06:00

"The animals stood around his bed. And the whole earth and all the stars and sky held its breath...

'The One who made us has come to live with us!'"

from The Song of the Stars by Sally Lloyd-Jones

Grandmama's famous sausage and egg casserole is in the refrigerator and Grammy's overnight sticky buns are rising in the oven.

We're tucking in our angels and headed to bed, I in my kerchief and Kyle in his cap. Visions of sugar plums already dancing and twirling. So excited to celebrate Christmas in the morning. :)

Wishing YOU a very merry, restful, joyful, happy Christmas, too!

and guess what little elf is sitting up all by herself?!?

A Present Feeling

2011-12-23T15:02:00.000-06:00

after Church last Sunday.

I grew up, for the most part, on a sleepy North Carolina street called Merwin Road. Most of the houses there were built in the sixties and seventies - my parents built a decade later in the late eighties. What made this location special was that our house was right across the street from my grandparent's house - the house where my mother grew up.

I can remember peering over the couch in my grandmother's living room, green vinyl-leather covering cold on my knees, through the teensy wooden blinds, watching the diggers at work on our house; red clay marking the hillside: something's coming!

It was a rust-red brick Cape Cod, and my favorite part about it was that my room had a built-in nook and window seat with a cushion. That space was originally going to be another closet, but my grandaddy convinced my parents that every little girl needs a hiding place in which to dream.

I raced the path across the street to my grandparents house so often that my feet knew the way by memory. There was this game I played where I would close my eyes and squeeze them shut all the way from my front door to their front door, feeling my way ever closer - the not knowing, but knowing like a delicious secret. In the middle of the path there was a lone rosebush which reminded me of the enchanted one from "Beauty and the Beast." When I went through the quintessential girlhood phase of loving horses (I think I'm kinda still there), I used to gallop my legs up to it, pretending I was racing a thoroughbred, and jump over it like "National Velvet."

And when I raced myself up their ivy-covered steps and slammed open the door, the smells of BBQ and potato soup overwhelmed my senses with home. I felt safe, there. Loved.

"Heeeeey! Pooh Bear!" And open arms.

We never spent a holiday celebration away from my grandparent's house and this time of year always makes me remember those Christmases as a child. Especially on days like today - Christmas Eve Eve - my parents would have the the family over for chili and baked potatoes. To my childhood self, nothing felt sweeter than knowing TODAY was the day it all began - with loved ones tromping over to our house under winking, starry skies and curling, fireplace aromas - the warm baked potatoes steaming in the kitchen, chili bubbling in the pot.

It wasn't just my grandparents or my parents that made holidays special.

My Aunt Pam is vivacious, animated, upbeat - she's a thrill to be around. One of those exciting people that makes even the most mundane event fun. AND, she has a gift for wrapping presents. Her presents sparkle under the tree with bows and trinkets and ribbons. With her cooking, presentation, flare for decorating, thoughtful gift-giving, she makes the whole occasion really FEEL like Christmas.

On the day my Aunt Pam and Uncle Jerry were due to arrive in Raleigh, my brother and I would stake out at my grandparent's house, swinging on the backyard set, twirling up the chains and letting them fly, waiting with the greatest anticipation. Delectable, touchable anticipation. They'd rattle into the driveway in an old, Honda van, pop out with a, "Well, there's little Shanny-Pants! And look at Skibo!," seeming to bring the festive, Boone air down from the mountain with them. Aunt Pam would pop open the trunk and the whole bed would be filled with Christmas presents. Her 10 cent gifts in 100$ wrapping, as she calls them. In her hands she'd have a "hostess" gift - a present for each of us that we could open right away - right that very minute. And as a child, it felt like Christmas had arrived.

My brother and I would make trip after trip, hauling in the gifts and placing them just so under the tree, making sure our favorite bows were right up front, prominent. We'd always check the bottoms to see if any were for us - and we'd give those ones a hearty shake for good measure.

Even though Kyle and I are staying here this Christmas, we got to see Aunt Pam and Uncle Jerry as they drove through on their way to Texas last week. As they pulled into our OK driveway, I felt that same old, childhood thrill, and she didn't disappoint. Except now the toys are for my "Meggie Dick (a family nickname) and Sweet Allie V," and it's my oldest child who pronounces: "OOOH, presents!" I've tried to become Aunt Pam's understudy for my own family, figuring out the magic that she puts into wrapping. After five years I've almost got it - but I don't think doing it myself will ever be the same as unveiling all of her treasures. I hope to be a presence for my girls like she was and is for me - a presence that means security, fun, excitement, merriment, Christmas.

I'm going to miss them this year as always - everyone's gathering in my Aunt Cecil's home in Raleigh - as well as my Michigan family. They'll do our traditional Christmas program, where we read from the Bible, sing carols, tell stories of old, gorge ourselves silly, and open one present on Christmas Eve. Aunt Pam will save my grandmama's present until the very end like she always does - and it'll be the 2012 Athlone family calendar. There will be lots of laughing, wrapping paper flying, fires crackling, dogs howling - a boisterous time, the usual. We'll be there in spirit as we celebrate here with our Navy family - the last holiday gathering of this group before we move - using the traditions to make Christmas for our girls.

And. I've already peeked. There's a package for me with a note: "OPEN ON CHRISTMAS EVE" delivered when they stopped through that night last week. Even from thousands of miles away, even as I make Christmas for the next generation, my family is making Christmas for me. :)

Some of our presents this year...Aunt Pam - you have to teach me all you know!...

I tied all the jingle bells on Meggie's presents so that she can make them shake.

This one is another of Meg's. I'm so excited about it because inside is a homemade, vintage apron and tea towel, made by a friend of ours from flight school. What you see tied into the ribbon is her own stirring spoon and an airplane cookie cutter - little teasers of the true gift inside.

Who makes Christmas special for you? What traditions do you miss/look forward to this year? What are your favorite ways to wrap presents?

Christmas Tree Walk

2011-12-20T22:40:00.001-06:00

We've been enjoying a sprinkling of Christmas activities this year, trying to keep festivities simple. Though we have an artificial tree up with our house on the market, Kyle and I have been looking forward to taking the girls to a local Christmas tree farm for the experience of "hunting for the perfect tree" and a Christmas walk.

Saturday was a gorgeous day, with sunshine and a chill in the air. Meggie took a good nap, so we rounded up the girls and set out. We loved being in the outdoors, enjoying the country, and breathing evergreen deep. Kyle and I let Meggie take the lead, and we smiled watching her dart in and out of the rows of trees. Like at the beach, we felt relaxed and easy just letting her free - witnessing her reveling in creation and stretching her mind and body.

She had a glorious time inspecting each tree and exclaiming over even the Charlie Browniest of saplings. "Look at this one, Daddy. OOOH, pretty, Mommy!" Her cheeks kissed red by the cold, Meggie's explorer's spirit wove ribbons of excitement through the rows. Her enthusiasm was precious to see, experience over again as a parent. How lucky we are to taste life as they know it, 2 years and 6 months of sweetness.

Alice Virginia took in the expanse of farm from her perch in the baby bjorn, content to giggle at her sister and kick her feet with the soft breeze.

funny face - she's been pursing her lips over her two new teethies, exploring the feel of them in her mouth.

As the sun set, we returned back to our van, snagging hot apple cider and a friendly, natural wreath for our front door. A lovely day and a sweet memory of Oklahoma to take with us when we move.

leading the way.

inspecting things.

I just love these next pictures of Alice Virginia and her precious hat. A dear lady from our church made them for all the babies in nursery last Sunday. Allie's has room to grow; we kept pulling it out of her eyes.

definitely teething.

sweetness.

Alice Virginia in her perch.

She's always had these luminous blue eyes.

sniffing the evergreen scent of Christmas.

spontaneously, she started skipping around giving each tree a hug. Our lovey girl shows kindness to all things.

tromp, tromp.

hugging this tree, just her size.

me and my big girl

A daddy and his two loves.

Kyle spotted a pigeon house - which they keep for tree fertilizer. Meggie loved clinging to Kyle's neck as she spied the birds.

Both girls entranced by the pigeon house.

Oh, Christmas tree, Oh, Christmas tree

The Lilly Girls in Our Christmas Card

2011-12-17T23:28:00.001-06:00

Welp. I thought this year would be different.

Organized. Serene. Relaxing. The week before the week-before-Christmas. :)

Oh, so naive am I.

In case they don't make it out in time:

Handwritten Wishes Christmas

Customize your Christmas cards this season at Shutterfly.com.

View the entire collection of cards.

Merry Christmas!

My dear friend, Katie, took these pictures for us during our beach trip this year. Katie and I met as college freshmen at Furman University in Greenville, SC. We were on sister halls in the Chiles Dormitory and met up everyday in the stairwell to walk to Beginning Theater in our first semester. And everyday we'd dreamily talk about our boy interests - hers from the Citadel and mine from the Naval Academy. It was back in the day of AOL instant messaging and we'd giggle about our latest conversations with these hopeful loves. We'd also - even in those early days - bemoan the struggles of dating someone in the military.

Lo and Behold...four years later in our friendship, she and I both married our military sweethearts and BOTH moved to Pensacola, FL where they were in flight training together. Kyle and I were in their New Jersey wedding and Katie and I've remained true, dear friends. I just adore that girl. She and Gray are now stationed in Jacksonville, NC, so we visit them each time we go home to the beach.

This last time was especially sweet because our little girls got to meet one another for the first time. We have tiny stairsteps - Meggie in August 2009, Chloe in June 2010, and AV in 2011. Oh, I so hope this trend continues...although it would be fun to be pregnant together, too. :)

Katie's everything special in a friend: loyal, kind, thoughtful, insightful, dedicated, passionate, accepting, loving. I'm lucky to number her among my close ones. I also adore that we knew each other from college long before this military thing, and going through flight school together helped ground me in the sense that I really did have a life of my own before it got commandeered by the Navy.

She gives me perspective and reminds me of who I really am - my dreams, hopes, loves - when circumstances sometimes threaten to overwhelm. I'm so thankful for that quality in her.

And, I love that when I see this Christmas card, I inevitably remember the one who was there to help capture these images. Love you, Katie!

Katie with Chloe and me with Alice Virginia...Meggie had her fill of pictures by this point and, as Kyle puts it, had flown the reservation. :)

we were still trying to get her in with us...

and here...

and here. What a classic two-year-old toddler picture. I'm grabbing her hand, gritting my teeth, and thinking, "You. Will. Take. This. Picture." clearly she was thinking not.

Katie's Chloe and my Allie V

these are from three months ago...you can see her smiling hand clasp in action.

so porcelain doll-esque

Katie also took these. I love how Allie still clasps her hands tightly around who's holding her.

Allie fell clear asleep right in the middle of pictures.

and Meggie, so sweet.

Chloe is a pure, redheaded delight.

Since I originally wrote this blog, Katie's announced that they're expecting again in July. Yay! Big Sister, Chloe!

instant friends.

playing.

The Things She Says to Me

2011-12-09T14:47:00.000-06:00

I've gone by many names in my life.

Shan. Shanny-Pants. Showy. Show Show. Pooh Bear.

Daughter. Sister. Friend. Wife.

But none as beautiful, challenging, satisfying, perplexing as my most recent one.

Mother.

"Go Potty, Mommy?"
"Go Potty, MOMMY!"
"Mommy, getchu (get you) out?" (of the crib, carseat, high chair)
"Fank you for my lunch, Mommy."
"Mommy, make dinner for Meggie, Mommy?"
'Puh-lease, Mommy, PUH-LEASE, Mommy."
"No Fank ew (thank you), Mommy."

"Want dat, Mommy!"
"Sing anuver one (another one), Mommy?"
"Mommy, getchu treat for Meggie?"
"Meggie play playground, Mommy?"
"Go home, Mommy, wanna go home, Mommy!"
"Puh-lease, Mommy, PUH-LEASE, Mommy."
"No, no, no, no, Fank ew, Mommy."

"Get one for Baby, Mommy?"
"Mommy get Baby's medicine, Mommy?"
"Mommy take a shower. Mommy all wet. Mommy shaker (shakes her) hair out."
"Meggie take a shower with Mommy?"
"Hungry, Mommy, hungry, Mommy!"
"Puh-lease, Mommy, PUH-LEASE, Mommy."
"No Fank ew, Mommy."

"Oh, Boy, car ride, Mommy?"
"Mommy, go bye-bye."
"Watch airplanes, Mommy?"
"Mommy, holdew (hold you), Meggie?"
"Puh-lease, Mommy, PUH-LEASE, Mommy."
"No Fank ew, Mommy."

"See Meggie's fwiends, Mommy?"
"Mommy, go to church?"
"Where Daddy, Mommy? Where Baby Sis-tah, Mommy?"
"Mommy, rock a minute?"
"Five more minutes, Mommy! Last one, Mommy! Mommy, few more in Meggie's mouf, Mommy!"
"Puh-lease, Mommy, PUH-LEASE, Mommy."
"No, no, no, no, Fank ew, Mommy."

"DO IT BY SELF, MOMMY."

I never thought I'd love a sound so much. Mommy.

And for a real life sampling of her sweet voice:

The Name Change Edition

2011-12-05T07:42:00.000-06:00

Change, oh change, it is a’brewin’.

This summer, a few days after our dear Alice Virginia arrived, I opened my email and was greeted with the happy news that my blog was selected to join the BlogHer Publishing Network.

You see, back before she was even conceived, Kyle and I wrestled with big decisions about whether I should pursue a counseling job. I knew I only wanted to work (at the most) 20 hours a week and then right in the middle of “how do I get my license, should I go for it if we’re moving, where will we put Meg?” two pink lines redirected us, again.

The decision to stay home, in the end, was easy.

And with my time not wrangling babes, I knew I wanted to write.

(BONUS: now I have Premier, too!)

Being a part of the BlogHer network means that I joined a community of women writers, writing for women - and that I hope to entertain more than just our extended family, even though they’re my favorite and most committed readers. :)

It also means that we wanted to take extra measures to protect our girls on the internet and change the URL of our blog as it contains our last name. Kyle’s one request with me doing more with my blog than just keeping in touch.

Six months later, I’ve finally settled on a new name. Change, oh change, you are a’comin’.

Henceforth, The Latest Doings of the Van Heest Household will be known as Ber Ber Der Ber:

This Foxtail Lilly Blog.

Why? Where does it come from? Why such a funny name? What’s the significance?

I come from a long line of strong women. My mom’s one of three sisters with grand personalities, and my grandmother’s a firecracker.
My girls don’t fall far from the tree, you know?

There’s this one memory that I have: there’s a group of us sitting around the den of Athlone, my family’s farm. Aunt Pam, Aunt Cecil, Grandmama, Aunt Libby, Aunt Margaret. I’m perched in the rocking chair, basking in the comfortable sound of their cackling laughter. Laughter surrounds us as we get together, always has.

In fact, Kyle, who comes from a family of all boys, can never get a word in edgewise when my family gathers. He can barely be heard above the female din, chatter, banter.

We’re sitting there, and someone brings up starting a band. Did I mention that they’re all singers? It’s what my mother dreamt of being as she grew. They giggle and ponder: “Well, if we start a traveling band, we need a name.”

Aunt Cecil pipes, “Whatever it is, it needs to be the perfect blend of strong and feminine. Something beautiful, but sturdy. Just like us. Like a hardy flower.”

And, Aunt Pam, the green-thumb puts in, “Well, then, we’ve gotta be the Foxtail Lillies.”

And we laugh. Picturing us all in matching outfits - like bloomers, belting out tunes as the Foxtail Lillies, a traveling band.

A few weeks ago I called my Aunt Pam and asked her if I could adopt our traveling band’s name for my blog, as it embodies to me, the future that I hope for my girls.

Faith. Goodness. Southern. Peace. Spunk. Laughter. Family. Love.

She gladly said, “Oh, that is great! Of course, of course!”

So, this space is for me and my traveling band. I’m “This” Foxtail Lilly, documenting life as my husband and I raise the next generation of women in my family. The perfect blend of strength and beauty, of power and femininity.

There will be tales of military life, counseling-related issues, natural and simple living, old-timey love. Mostly, though, stories of our girls and the God-given gifts that they are to us, as we try and raise them to know the Lord and know themselves - discovering more about ourselves as we go.

From this foxtail lilly to others out there, won’t you join me?

Spread the word, come on over, and “set awhile.” I’m happy that you’re here.

Thanksgiving Girls

2011-12-03T20:48:00.002-06:00

Meggie (2 years), Alice Virginia (5 months), Maeve (2 months)

Thanksgiving was simpler at our home this year. Much due in part to the two brand new additions.

Kaitlin and I are the only two representatives of our family past the Mississippi, so we've created our own traditions for the last three years.

We start with the Edmond Turkey Trot. Last year, Kaitlin ran the 5K. This year, we all did the one-mile wobble. Just enough of a brisk walk to wake us up on Thanksgiving morning and start the day breathing in creation. Thankful.

Our new and improved group picture. Notice Meggie shielding her eyes - it was a bright Thanksgiving.

Our family of four. And our sweet jogging stroller - thanks, Mama!

Allie fell snuggly asleep.

And so did Maeve.

Kaitlin and Adam last year. My, how things change in a year...

...except for my choice of Turkey Trot gear apparently. Our family of three last year.

We spent the rest of the day watching the Thanksgiving parade, cooking, gobbling delectable food, and cuddling sweet children. My thoughts kept drifting back to last year when I was just barely pregnant with Alice Virginia and Maeve was but a dream. I knew I did't have to formally ask; both of our families were most thankful for new life in the wake of losing a dear one.

Grannio's new redheaded girls.

Meggie helped us with Thanksgiving crafts. Ever since then she's been asking me to see the "turkey in the yard" - so I'm not quite sure what she got out of us constructing a turkey out of construction paper and windblown leaves.

I didn't get a table picture this year. The one above is of last year's scape, but ours this year looked similar.

Our Menu:

Apple Cider Vinegar Turkey Breast

Spinach Souffle

Mashed Potatoes

Cheesy Carrot Casserole

Wild Rice Casserole

Holiday Fruit Salad

Pumpkin and Sausage Dressing

Rolls

Sweet Potato Pie

Pumpkin Cheesecake

Buttermilk Pie

Sour Cream Apple Pie

In years past we've done a Thanksgiving puzzle. We thought little hands might be a big distraction, so we declined this one.

On the day after, we always make a big fire and roast leftovers. Kyle tended the fire for us for four hours until the babies were in bed and it was s'mores time. The four adults gathered round and reminisced, told stories, laughed.

We took chilly, invigorating walks to spy Christmas lights.

Maeve in her snowsuit.

Snuggly girls.

There was no way they were getting cold.

A mama shot.

Meggie saying, "BRRR. Co-old."

As long as I live I don't think I'll ever see anything more precious than a yawning baby. No matter how old they get.

And, this year, we made up a new tradition. Matching-picture-taking-outfits-on-a-picture-taking-day.

I mean, how grown up does she look?

Meg took such care holding the babies. She's our responsible oldest child. She told us, "careeefulll. Baby heavy."

And there she goes. Our Meggie.

I also had the privilege of capturing Kaitlin's family for Christmas. They graciously let me practice on them. Don't worry, I took care not to post the pictures on their Christmas card. :)

squishy cheeks.

I love how proud Adam looks in this one. Like, "Yeah, those are my women."

A delectable Christmas baby.

My turn to hold her, this tiny niece of my heart.

Back home, we talked on the phone to all our far away relatives. Had to include these precious snap shots of Miss Allie V and her Daddy.

We love how expressive she is.

With a moment's notice, she goes from smiley to...

"Hey, Mama. Put that camera down...I have needs here." Does she have old-soul eyes or what?

And, all is well with a little sweet talk. :)

Then, on Sunday, November 27th, we dedicated Alice Virginia to the Lord at our church. She's our beautiful, undeserved, cherished gift from God, and we publicly gave her back to Him, promising to raise her in wisdom and in knowledge of the Lord. Thankful.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow. Praise him all creatures here below. Praise him above ye heavenly hosts. Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

We're rich with blessings. Thankful.

Christmas Tree Hunting with My Grandaddy and His Bump Truck

2011-12-02T14:41:00.000-06:00

Shortly after I began earnestedly dating my husband, I learned he (and an important half of his family) are supposedly allergic to live Christmas trees. We almost broke-up right there. Seriously.

Bringing home the family Christmas tree was a sacred event. More like a “coming of age” excursion every year, shared by my grandaddy and me. (There are definite perks to being the oldest child and grandchild...my youngest siblings missed out big-time.)

He had this 1980s, two-tone beige, Ford pick-up truck with a long, skinny handle for shifting the gears. The doors creaked and the floorboards were mud-splattered. The back bed was a permanent home for gardening utensils - rakes, shovels, hoes, bags of fertilizer - and when you crawled inside, it smelled just like your nose was pressed into the pocket of his shirt - tobacco, coffee, earth, comfort. On Sunday mornings he’d pick my brother and me up early for Sunday School and we’d clamber back there, shuffling in the clutter, ignoring warnings from our mother to keep our shoes clean - our heads bobbing up and down over bumps in the pavement as we bounced to church. There were these built in perches over the wheels in the back - and on extra big bumps, we’d soar so high our heads would knock the roof. My greatest excitement was when he’d let me pretend drive, my little girl hands clutching the steering wheel and his practiced feet holding the clutch.

When I went to one semester of sixth grade before my family moved away, in just those beginning throes of social anxiety, Grandaddy drove me to school every morning. He’d ease on the brakes about a half-mile before we actually needed to stop and the whole she-bang would creak to a shuttering halt - gears bellowing like a foghorn - and I’d leap out of the passenger side, eyes plastered to the pavement, praying no one would recognize me.

In all it’s glory, we appropriately named it, “the bump truck.”

That bump truck was many things to me: a symbol of my Grandaddy’s servant love, the shuttle that carried me to school, church, horseback riding lessons, his garden, safety, trustworthiness.

Childhood.

That bump truck also bore our Christmas tree home year after North Carolina year.

My grandmama would pack us an abundance of snacks - mostly peanut butter crackers - we’d turn on Christmas carols - his favorite was, “Silver Bells,” and we’d take the bump truck traveling to Grandaddy’s homeplace in Virginia. Ever wonder why Miss Allie V’s name is Virginia? She fell out of me that day back in June and I recognized something in her newborn face. That girl felt just like home to me, and I wanted her to bear a familiar name for life. When we speak her name, see her smile, we remember feelings of home, warmth, love.

Grandaddy would take me back to family land he and Grandmama purchased back many years after it was lost during the Depression. Along the way, we’d point out favorite landmarks: the tree tunnel - a magical street where the branches of trees intertwined above the pavement - the Patrick Henry Boy’s home, the family graveyard in South Boston where his parents are buried. We’d stop, here, and place homemade evergreen wreaths on their tombstones.

Grandaddy would lean down, his weathered hands etching moss off the cracked letters, and speak tenderly:

“Hello, Nanny. Hello, Papa. It’s Grandaddy and Shannon here. And it’s Christmas time again. We sure miss you.”

He’d tell me stories, the wind curling around us and the stone foundations of the old Episcopalian Church, and I’d close my eyes and see them around the fire in the one room farmhouse, these ancestors I’d never met, but felt such communion with.

We’d talk more. Climb back in bump truck, pass the general store where Grandaddy went as a boy, savoring his dime cent candy all the way home, and pull onto the land.

Sometimes it was snowing, but always it was that invigorating cold that makes you zip up your coat close to your chin and burrow into your boots, that unmistakable fireplace scent in the Virginian air. Grandaddy’s oldest brother would be waiting for us there with some homemade, chocolate goodies in hand.

We’d tromp through the forests, across the fields that they called home, searching for the perfect tree. When we’d find one we liked, Grandaddy would wrap a ribbon around it, breaking twigs of bushes surrounding the tree, leaving a trail just in case it was THE ONE.

In the distance we’d hear gunshots, baying hounds, geese soaring, hunters. Cardinals fluttered around our marching feet, the quiet whispers of the woods cloaking us as in a sacred cathedral.

In a way, it was. A sacred cathedral. My grandaddy was silent most of the time. When he wasn’t, his voice was tinged with stories of home and his wishes and dreams for my life. He was teaching me there, in the woods, all his time spent with us a lesson, the ever-teacher. Purpose. Determination. Perseverance. Tradition.

We’d search for what seemed like a whole day, but was actually maybe an hour.

And, when we found the perfect one - it’s sap-sticky branches pointy, sharp, round, pinecones situated like perpetual ornaments, height to fit our living room - oh, what an accomplishment! What a bursting pride in my little girl’s spirit.

I’d hear him call my name: “Well, Pooh Bear! HEY, Pooh!” Yes, that’s me to my grandparents. Pooh Bear. In it a: You did it! Look what you found!

We would saw it down, tie it on, bump in the bump truck all the way home, hands warmed by hot chocolate, our hearts by memories. We found a tree for every year, and I found myself a little more. On the hunt for where I belonged - where I came from and where I was headed, urged on by my grandaddy who loved me. Believed in by all the family that waited at home to see our perfect pick, to bedazzle it with our beloved ornaments, to gather round and celebrate our Savior’s birth.

Dreaming of having my own family to take Christmas tree hunting one day. Bound by the ties of home.

I’ve always known myself to be a teensy high and mighty when it came to Christmas trees.

But only because the act of bringing home our Christmas tree every year was so special, sacred, strengthening, shaping. More than a Christmas tree, it was the roots of my childhood, the growing of
me.

I had to dig deep to find these old pictures of my Grandaddy on my new computer. I don't have a scanner to give you the real good ones of all of us when I was little (hint hint: it's on my Christmas list), so these are the best I could do. This picture is of Kyle and Grandaddy right after we were married in 2006. Grandaddy's wearing a midshipman hat from the Academy.

I look at these pictures and it's so hard to believe that he'd be diagnosed with cancer in six short months.

I took these of the barns when I got my very first digital camera - gives you a feel for the "landscape."

and an "old school" one for fun. Kyle and me after our wedding on the back porch of Athlone.

Sweet Potato Pies - My Slice of Heaven

2011-12-01T21:43:00.000-06:00

Yesterday. The longest day ever.

Miss Allie V is still not eating or sleeping well. Her poor, tiny tummy is giving all of us a terrible time. I finally dragged myself (and her) sobbing to the pediatrician, crying: "HELP me! I've got to get some sleep."

And by "get some sleep," I mean more than one or two uninterrupted hours a night. As in, tried solid food and it just made it worse. And by worse, I mean that I forgot Meggie's lunch for school today three different times, missed my exit for bible study, and suddenly realized I only had 18 miles left before I completely ran out of gas.

I'm a zombie.

That with the whirlwind rush of Thanksgiving, Grannio's passing - we received the word on Tuesday night in an eloquent text from my dad: "a great, great lady has gone on to a far better place. I loved her so" - and the loneliness of an empty house after company, it's been all I could do to crawl into bed at night and watch reruns of "Lost" on netflix.

I did, though, FINALLY finish this sweet potato pie tutorial that I began the Monday before Thanksgiving.

Oh, my craving for Grandmama's sweet potato pie. I read once that the rate for multiples in countries where they eat tons of yams is like quadruple the rate for ones where they don't. Let's just say that if I hadn't just had a baby, Kyle and I would be expecting quintuples with all the sweet potato pie I ate as a result of this day of baking. :)

And with that little piece of TMI, I bring you...

Is this wind normal?

The blasting, “WHOOSH,” rattles our teensy chimney and, outside, our two wispy poplars bend almost parallel to the ground, goldenrod leaves like shocks of color against the brown grass, dead underbrush.

Every family member who’s visited us here in Oklahoma asks the same question: is this wind normal? Well, let’s just say they don’t call this the “dustbowl” state for nothin’. My husband and I were just talking today about a little pattern that we’ve noticed happens here, not being native-Oklahomans.

The leaves around our home change color for a fleeting week or two - and then one big, forceful windy event happens in one weekend, about this time, and the leaves are gone, branches like naked arms, shivering from exposure. We’ve noticed this phenomenon even more this year because our house, our home, is on the market. We won’t be here next year - we won’t have a fall next year and you can forget about having any leave-stripping wind - unless it comes in the shape of a hurricane and heaven forbid that happens. The only natural disaster we haven’t experienced during our three years in Oklahoma is a hurricane (we thought for sure we’d escape an earthquake, but turns out, Oklahoma has those too.).

And, even though Corpus Christi sounds exotic, I’ll miss this place. It’s people. It’s nature. Winds. The leaves that cling on for dear life. Even the spiraling gusts that transport them inside our front door when you open it the littlest crack.

I guess, more than anything this year, knowing that change is coming, FEELING that change is coming, seeing that change is coming even as it dances outside the window makes me sentimental. Kinda easy to do - I’m a natural at being sentimental.

This approaching Thanksgiving time of year, this wind, this fall, the colors, the stark-barrenness of the trees after this weekend of bursting gusts, always reminds me of other homecomings - my beloved grandparents - and the tastes from my Grandmama's kitchen.

I have been emotionally craving the taste of my Grandmama's sweet potato pie. Growing up, I don't recollect a memory of a family function that didn't include my Grandmama pulling out sweet potato pie after sweet potato pie from the freezer. Sometimes I'd eat it for every meal. Seriously. It's the best at breakfast - but don't tell my girls that. :)

Now, I'm not a natural cook or baker - But I do LOVE food and the delicious feeling of making memories for my family; so, I adore cooking around the holidays. And, one of the biggest bonuses in being away from our extended families during Thanksgiving and Christmas (reaching for positive straws here as we all know we'd rather be curled up by a warm fire somewhere near loved ones) is that I get to be the Thanksgiving (along with my cousin, Kaitlin) and Christmas cook - knowing that all our favorite holiday foods will be apart of our girls' history as well.

Grandmama's Sweet Potato Pie

You'll need: pie crusts, butter, sweet potatoes, milk, brown sugar, regular sugar, flour, and eggs.

We started out by putting everything out on the counter.

But, then, you know those days when it feels like all you do is try to get them to take a nap (can I get an AMEN from all the new mamas out there?!)...it turned in to one of those.

This little monkey did not sleep well for her morning nap.

rolling around.

can you tell she wanted something from me? her milk, please face.

During the time she was down, though, and after I pulled out the ingredients, Meggie woke up. Since we'd be home all day baking pies, I thought it'd be a great time to try out potty training for real.

Note to self and others: the day you're baking six Thanksgiving pies from a treasured family recipe when you also have a teething baby is not the ideal time to potty train.

After two accidents in a half-hour, we put a diaper back on. I wasn't ready for this to begin with, and I want to devote my whole attention to her and the potty training experience. Between the baby and the pies, we never got our third pair of pants back on.

That's ok. Moving on.

Boil the sweet potatoes.

Throw the sweet potatoes into a pot and boil em till they're done. I forgot to set a timer, but when the kitchen started to smell "sweet potato-ey," it had been about an hour. At this point, Alice Virginia actually was settled and taking a good morning nap.

Grandmama said to skin em after boiling em. I'm assuming she meant to let them cool first, but I had to strike while the sleeping baby was out. I tried different methods of extracting those suckers from the pot - all the while barking orders at Meggie who'd pulled up a chair to see what the fuss was about - "Stay Back! HOT! Meggie, no, no, no touch!" Forget bare hands or a spoon. Salad tongues ended up being the best.

Transfer the potatoes to a bowl and skin them.

Place in a separate bowl and skin.

Again, I had to act fast. I put a kitchen mit on and went to town - the skins came off easily - but I wasn't fast enough. In the meantime, Meggie'd pulled on her new, stylish boots, found my make-up bag, applied five hundred coats of mascara, thrown all of our dvds out of the cabinet, and rescued her hairbrush from under the sink. When I tried to redirect her attention back to her favorite video, she proclaimed, "Dance! Dance!" and gave me my own personal concert.

Stylin'

Back to the pies.

Grandmama told me to just dump everything in together. We did. Meggie did most of it.

Just go ahead and dump everything in. I must apologize for these tutorial pics - I still had my super zoom lens on my camera and was not about to take up any extra time changing it out...hence, I had to take these "blind," holding the camera up high enough to be far away enough to actually take the picture.

I also did my best to keep her little fingers out of the bowl, but I know she snuck some handfuls outta there. :)

Stirry-stirry. Mash-mash. Just look at our counters. Making messes or memories? Both.

Let's just pretend this picture is centered. I used the mixer to get it all nice and gelled. At first I was worried that mine looked lumpier than I remembered, but it tastes just fine. Maybe next time I'll boil the potatoes longer?

I should say at this point that Meggie's had a long-standing misunderstanding with things that make loud noises. It started with the vacuum when she was six months old. For a time my floors were horrendously dirty because she was terrified of it when she was awake, it would wake her up screaming if she was sleeping, so I just didn't vacuum.

Well, she got scared when I pulled out the mixer. She backed waaaay up and said, "scawed, Mama, scawed, big noise."

But, we needed to mix everything up with the mixer, so she hunkered down in the corner of the kitchen after the first few minutes of it being on, suspiciously eyeing my progress.

We poured all of the pies in time for Allie to wake up. Phew.

When she's not helping me stir, she helps me by wearing all kinds of kitchen utensils on her feet.

did you know that biscuit cutters make the most fashionable anklets?

Grandmama gave me the half recipe. The whole recipe makes 6 regular-sized, or 2-3 deep-dish-sized pies. Mine today made four - a combination of both deep dish and regular because of my mismatched pie shells.

Pop them in the oven at 350 degrees until they lose their "jiggly-ness." Today it took 45 mins.

Finally. I pulled the last batch out right before their naps. A mother's sacred time. And ate a big, ole piece just by myself. Tasted just like I remember - Thanksgiving, Christmas, late nights watching tv with Grandaddy, Grandmama's hugs, my Virginia homeplace.

Even Kyle, who's not a fan of the sweet potato, said, "Hey, these aren't that bad."

And you know I'll take that.

The finished product cooling on my counters, luring hungry noses.


Looks like teething could be part of the culprit. One popped through today. Oh, teething, how I loathe thee.

Hoping y'all had a delicious, bountiful, and dear Thanksgiving! :)

Grandmama's Sweet Potato Pie

(makes between 3-4 pies)
2.5 lbs. sweet potatoes - about 6 cups of mashed sweet potatoes
1.5 cups regular sugar
.5 cup brown sugar
3 teaspoons vanilla
2 sticks of margarine
2 tablespoons of flour
1 teaspoon of cinnamon
1 cup milk
4 eggs

cook and skin potatoes and mash - with fork or mixer
put the rest of the things together and put them in the pie crust
bake at 350 until light brown - firm

My Grannio

2011-11-20T22:17:00.000-06:00

I’ve been planning, composing a happy, sentimental piece about my grandaddy and Christmas trees.

But, instead, tonight I have a heavier weight to write. My dad’s mom, my Grannio, or “Granny O” for O’Connell, has been in poor health for quite a while. Today, I heard that she may not be much longer in our world. Her spirit’s ready for the next.

I’ve found memories of my childhood with her coming back to me throughout the day in flashes, lingering fragrances of laughs, adventures, love.

She is the mother of two boys, a WW II nurse, middle daughter of a staunch Englishman, feisty. When my brother, sister, and cousins would gather together in her Falls Church home, she was a “let’s explore, be creative, get outside in the backyard” kind of grandmother. She adored animals - especially dogs - and most of the time, her dogs would end up romping out there with us.

I remember coconuts. What I don’t remember is how it started, but every time we’d visit her, she’d let us get a coconut from the grocery store and we’d spend hours smashing it up on the driveway with a hammer. The sweet milk would dribble down our arms, and we’d gobble the insides with our fingers. She trusted our children’s fingers with a hammer and she left us to use our imaginations. We felt important, empowered.

I remember climbing a tree in her backyard. I’d sit up there and daydream, reliving stories of my dad as a boy - Chincoteague Island, Boston, the farm. She recognized the dreamer in me, the stubborn will, and she let me be exactly who I was.

I remember a swim meet when I was ten years old. She came to see me swim the freestyle; it was my event and the state championship. Shivering in my “CY” suit - the black one with white letters that turned a brilliant purple when wet - she presented me with an ivory brooch that my Pop Pop brought home from Italy and the War. She said it was because I was the apple of his eye. That gift to me - not only the precious keepsake of it, but the gift of her words has sustained me through doubt.

She believes in me.

She kept extensive photo albums of all of us growing up - including every letter we ever wrote her, diary entries. My siblings and I always looked forward to seeing pictures of ourselves when we’d visit her, down in the comforting bedroom downstairs, knowing that love for us is what inspired her to keep those things.

She’d pack us nourishing picnic lunches - like thick turkey sandwiches - and take us to visit pony farms, petting zoos with spitting llamas, the Washington zoo, Washington monuments, playgrounds. Visiting her meant special trips - things we’d never see, do, touch, taste, smell at home.

She loves us through service. And advice. And thinking of us before herself. Always.

When I think of her, too, I think of my cousins and how much fun it was to play all together. We’re grown up now, some with children of our own. We’ve been dreaming of taking them to see Grannio, talking about how fun it will be to introduce our girls to those same beloved adventures - the pony farm, petting zoo with spitting llamas, the Washington zoo, Washington monuments, playgrounds. We’ll pack them thick turkey sandwiches and show them photo albums, pointing out what we loved best as children.

Kaitlin and I each had new babies this year. Both of our precious O’Connell daughters born with caps of red hair - Grannio’s hair. An ever present reminder of the woman that loved, loves, us well - in her own unique and special ways. We will miss her grandness here, but look at our new ones and remember.

Coconuts. Climbing trees. Photo albums. Turkey Sandwiches.

And, because I know Grannio would love to see pictures of these two gals:

she was blowing me a kiss

the kiss

as usual, watching an airplane

I pulled out a bin of Meggie's old dresses today. What a joy to see two girls wear them. :)

That's Meggie's old bow, too.

Recently, I went to a baby shower where ladies ACTUALLY talked about how they thought little girls should never wear bows as big as their heads. Obviously, I highly and emphatically disagree.

My tender love.