We're visiting Philip's Nenaw and Papaw this weekend. To prepare for the trip, Micaiah spent the week napping in her newly acquired travel cot (so she could have a place to sleep now that she's been ousted from the Pack n' Play by a certain younger brother). I have to say, she's quite the fan. She actually began approaching me with, "I want nap." Now, that could be because we've taken to pushing her nap time back by an hour and the poor little girl is just worn out, but it was fun to watch her eagerly climb onto her cot every day. And thanks to our also newly acquired video monitor, I was able to swiftly teach her not to get out of bed when it's time to nap and, thus, I also got to watch her obediently sit on her cot reading when she would awake from her slumber, simply waiting for me to come retrieve her. I really like that girl.
Now, don't misunderstand, my child is nowhere near perfect. Yesterday, for example, after an hour of constantly reminding her it was time to "night night" while sternly plucking a book, shoe, headband or cash register from her hand, she was finally thrown (almost literally with the frustration I had) into her crib with distractions out of arm's reach (and she finally slept), only a half hour before Daddy came home so we could head out of town. Sigh.
But I promise, I really like that girl.
31 July 2010
30 July 2010
The Cynic in Me
I'm not sure when it happened, but somehow real life has made me jaded. I can no longer simply watch a movie without thinking, "She's totally scratching the non-stick coating on that waffle iron by pulling them out with that butcher knife." or "Aw, that's sweet that arrogant jock ended up falling for the sweet nerd and defied all his friends to date her, but how long will it last before she realizes he's dumb as a rock (I'm not stereotyping, the character is actually portrayed that way) and can't have a real conversation with him?" Honestly, how many chick-flick couples would actually survive in the real world? That swoon-worthy kiss at the end only gets you so far.
When did I become so cynical?
When did I become so cynical?
29 July 2010
Life can be rough
Whenever a baby wails in this house, we have a tendency to wail right back. Typically, with a mocking tone, we bemoan how rough it is to be a baby - to have nothing to do but eat and sleep all day long. What a difficult life those young ones lead.
It was only last night, when thinking about life through the eyes of my tiny baby boy that I suddenly realized how rough it actually is to live the way they do - to be so totally helpless and impotent to fulfill your own wants and needs. Especially at his age, when he can barely move his own head. If he's uncomfortable, he can't fix it and he has no way of effectively communicating his discomfort other than to cry - which at times seems to be overdone, so if your plight isn't completely obvious you're simply shrugged off as a fussy baby.
You can't eat unless someone else decides you're ready. If you're hot, you can't take off a blanket. If you're cold, you can't throw on a blanket. If you're gassy you can't get that out. If you're on your belly you can't get to your back. If you're on your back you can't get to your belly. If your sister is looking for an easy target for her sticker parade, your become open game.
You are completely dependent on the will of another person. And that can be rough.
Truth be told, I've never heard of any adult in that position for one reason or another who is grateful to be incapable of independence.
I'd cry too if I were in his place.
In other news - after his 10pm feeding last night he didn't ask to eat again until 5am! We may or may not have had another episode of sleep panic, but it's always exciting to discover your baby really did sleep for more than five hours.
So, here's to another restful night!
It was only last night, when thinking about life through the eyes of my tiny baby boy that I suddenly realized how rough it actually is to live the way they do - to be so totally helpless and impotent to fulfill your own wants and needs. Especially at his age, when he can barely move his own head. If he's uncomfortable, he can't fix it and he has no way of effectively communicating his discomfort other than to cry - which at times seems to be overdone, so if your plight isn't completely obvious you're simply shrugged off as a fussy baby.
You can't eat unless someone else decides you're ready. If you're hot, you can't take off a blanket. If you're cold, you can't throw on a blanket. If you're gassy you can't get that out. If you're on your belly you can't get to your back. If you're on your back you can't get to your belly. If your sister is looking for an easy target for her sticker parade, your become open game.
You are completely dependent on the will of another person. And that can be rough.
Truth be told, I've never heard of any adult in that position for one reason or another who is grateful to be incapable of independence.
I'd cry too if I were in his place.
In other news - after his 10pm feeding last night he didn't ask to eat again until 5am! We may or may not have had another episode of sleep panic, but it's always exciting to discover your baby really did sleep for more than five hours.
So, here's to another restful night!
28 July 2010
Sleep Panic
This is what happens when your son suddenly starts sleeping longer stretches at night:
You wake up at 7am and realize he last ate at 2:30. At first it's exciting and then you panic - maybe there's a reason he didn't wake up any sooner. You rush out of bed while still attempting to be quiet - you know, just in case. You slowly, yet quickly, open your door (so it won't creak), tiptoe ever so swiftly across the hall and toward his crib. You peer over the edge - there he is, breathing in and out with the subtle hint of a snore. Simply adorable. And then you do a silent happy dance on the inside while the outside gets its rear back to bed to ride this sleeping thing out. And when he finally awakes 45 minutes later you just think about how wonderful it was to have (nearly) a full night's sleep (you know, as much as five-ish hours is a full night's sleep at the moment).
Or at least that's what happened to me this morning.
You wake up at 7am and realize he last ate at 2:30. At first it's exciting and then you panic - maybe there's a reason he didn't wake up any sooner. You rush out of bed while still attempting to be quiet - you know, just in case. You slowly, yet quickly, open your door (so it won't creak), tiptoe ever so swiftly across the hall and toward his crib. You peer over the edge - there he is, breathing in and out with the subtle hint of a snore. Simply adorable. And then you do a silent happy dance on the inside while the outside gets its rear back to bed to ride this sleeping thing out. And when he finally awakes 45 minutes later you just think about how wonderful it was to have (nearly) a full night's sleep (you know, as much as five-ish hours is a full night's sleep at the moment).
Or at least that's what happened to me this morning.
27 July 2010
Summertime and the Livin' is Easy
Funny how the simplest ending to a day can make all the difference.
Today was actually a better day than most because Micaiah had a good day - I've found her mood always affects mine (and most likely vice versa). But then there is the fact that Emmett has not napped all day. We're still working on his not being held 24/7 and, as such, he's been placed alone in his crib every time he's ready for a snooze. And, every time he's placed alone in his crib he cries - a lot. Thus, today seems to have been a day of non-stop crying (in fact, as I write this he lays exercising his lungs in the other room). He eats, he looks around for a bit, I lay him down, he cries - it's been an endless cycle.
But tonight was the first night Philip has not had to work overtime in two weeks - he was actually home by 5:15!!! So, I asked if we could go out for dessert. And he said yes :)
Thus, we piled the kids in the car (this was just after Emmett ate, so it was in his "looking around" part of his schedule, so that was nice), headed to Braum's, bought Micaiah her first ice cream cone (or, rather, frozen yogurt cone) and headed to the campus of OBU to enjoy the evening.
And it was lovely.
Sitting with your family in a gazebo, furiously lapping up two ice cream cones (because your daughter decided two licks was enough for her) so as to keep the drips off of your hands and your pants, while your son finally rests in his car seat and your daughter climbs all over the benches makes for a wonderfully relaxing end to the day.
Ah, the joys of summer.
Today was actually a better day than most because Micaiah had a good day - I've found her mood always affects mine (and most likely vice versa). But then there is the fact that Emmett has not napped all day. We're still working on his not being held 24/7 and, as such, he's been placed alone in his crib every time he's ready for a snooze. And, every time he's placed alone in his crib he cries - a lot. Thus, today seems to have been a day of non-stop crying (in fact, as I write this he lays exercising his lungs in the other room). He eats, he looks around for a bit, I lay him down, he cries - it's been an endless cycle.
But tonight was the first night Philip has not had to work overtime in two weeks - he was actually home by 5:15!!! So, I asked if we could go out for dessert. And he said yes :)
Thus, we piled the kids in the car (this was just after Emmett ate, so it was in his "looking around" part of his schedule, so that was nice), headed to Braum's, bought Micaiah her first ice cream cone (or, rather, frozen yogurt cone) and headed to the campus of OBU to enjoy the evening.
And it was lovely.
Sitting with your family in a gazebo, furiously lapping up two ice cream cones (because your daughter decided two licks was enough for her) so as to keep the drips off of your hands and your pants, while your son finally rests in his car seat and your daughter climbs all over the benches makes for a wonderfully relaxing end to the day.
Ah, the joys of summer.
26 July 2010
Smile!
This has nothing whatsoever to do with parenting, but I've noticed I'm a very smiley person when I type. I guess I tend to go overboard in wanting whomever I am typing to to know that I'm smiling when I say it - don't want to sound cold and grumpy, now do I?
I find that whenever there is not already a positive word in a sentence (such as "great", "wonderful", or "glad") or no need for an exclamation point then I must punctuate with a smile (or, better yet, a winky). So, a simple greeting on Facebook would look something like this:
"Hey, girl! Was so glad to see you last night! That was such a crazy game ;) Well, I guess I'll see you next week :)"
And then I realize there is really no need for two emoticons in so short a space, so I try to decide which sentence needs the pick-me-up more and I work from there.
Don't even get me started on e-mails which tend to be more verbose in the first place. It's a smiley mess in there!
I'm sure other people don't have this problem, but what can I say? I guess that's just the way it goes ;)
I find that whenever there is not already a positive word in a sentence (such as "great", "wonderful", or "glad") or no need for an exclamation point then I must punctuate with a smile (or, better yet, a winky). So, a simple greeting on Facebook would look something like this:
"Hey, girl! Was so glad to see you last night! That was such a crazy game ;) Well, I guess I'll see you next week :)"
And then I realize there is really no need for two emoticons in so short a space, so I try to decide which sentence needs the pick-me-up more and I work from there.
Don't even get me started on e-mails which tend to be more verbose in the first place. It's a smiley mess in there!
I'm sure other people don't have this problem, but what can I say? I guess that's just the way it goes ;)
25 July 2010
I'll Try
I'm sorry my posts have not been of more interest recently. I truly wish I had more entertaining anecdotes or deep thoughts on life to share daily but sometimes the most noteworthy thing in a day is the fact that my son fell asleep on his own - not so exciting for anyone else, thrilling for me. Other times, daily, actually, my daughter cracks me up with some silly thing or another, but I almost grow too used to it to think to share - and I also fear filling up this blog about Emmett's first year with tales of his big sister, overshadowing him completely.
But, let's be honest, my five-week-old son just doesn't do much right now. Oh, he's super-cute and I could stare at him all day long, but in terms of activity, he pretty much eats, sleeps, looks around and enlists multiple bodily functions. And that's his day.
But Micaiah - she spends her days copying everything we say (her new greeting to everyone has become, "Hi, Caiah!"), playing with whatever she can get her hands on (the more un-toy-like the better), giving us her adorable sad eyes when we eat food we don't want her to have (and it's getting harder and harder to say, "No"), and babbling to her heart's content. And every minute of it fills my heart with joy (well, almost every minute - not necessarily the minutes spent climbing into daddy's chair to play with his computer, which she's been told umpteen times is off limits).
Thus, I fully intend to spend more time sharing the interesting bits of life, no matter who the star of the moment is.
Because this is my blog and I want to.
But, let's be honest, my five-week-old son just doesn't do much right now. Oh, he's super-cute and I could stare at him all day long, but in terms of activity, he pretty much eats, sleeps, looks around and enlists multiple bodily functions. And that's his day.
But Micaiah - she spends her days copying everything we say (her new greeting to everyone has become, "Hi, Caiah!"), playing with whatever she can get her hands on (the more un-toy-like the better), giving us her adorable sad eyes when we eat food we don't want her to have (and it's getting harder and harder to say, "No"), and babbling to her heart's content. And every minute of it fills my heart with joy (well, almost every minute - not necessarily the minutes spent climbing into daddy's chair to play with his computer, which she's been told umpteen times is off limits).
Thus, I fully intend to spend more time sharing the interesting bits of life, no matter who the star of the moment is.
Because this is my blog and I want to.
24 July 2010
Celebrate the Little Things
Woohoo! My son just fell asleep for his nap in his Pack n' Play all on his own! And it took no convincing on our part - he just slept.
Oh for the joy in the little things.
Oh for the joy in the little things.
23 July 2010
Spoiled Rotten
My little boy is a snuggler. After weeks of visitors who love to hold our little monkey and stare into that adorable face (and who wouldn't?), he can barely stand the thought of not being held. Now, I'm happy to note that he's just fine at night - and for that I am eternally grateful. But as far as napping during the day, he just doesn't want to shut those (currently) baby blues until he's safe in someone's arms. He's not so particular as to who, either - if you're warm and breathing (and not hitting him in the face with your shoes or poking his eyes), you'll do. It's definitely going to take some work (and maybe some earplugs) to teach him to transition from awake to napping all by his lonesome, but it's a job that must be undertaken.
Darn it.
Darn it.
22 July 2010
A Better Day
Baby boy seems to be putting effort into his potential future status as an annoying little brother (I think it's in the contract he signed in the womb). Thus, he will be perfectly wonderful all day until it's time for his big sister to "night night" and then it's all screams. I suppose one could make the argument that he loves his sister so much he can't stand the fact that she's not in the same room as him anymore - but I'm not betting on it.
Other than the nap time breakdowns today was a much better day than yesterday, helped by the fact that I have a really good friend in town to visit and Micaiah is loving having a playmate again (and so am I). It doesn't hurt that said friend brought with her a Micaiah-sized "Ice Cream Shop" complete with walls, an awning, a window through which customers can be served, a cash register and plush scoops of ice cream for anyone who has the six dollars the pre-printed price sheet declares is necessary. She's in toddler heaven.
So, yes, for the day, life is good :)
Other than the nap time breakdowns today was a much better day than yesterday, helped by the fact that I have a really good friend in town to visit and Micaiah is loving having a playmate again (and so am I). It doesn't hurt that said friend brought with her a Micaiah-sized "Ice Cream Shop" complete with walls, an awning, a window through which customers can be served, a cash register and plush scoops of ice cream for anyone who has the six dollars the pre-printed price sheet declares is necessary. She's in toddler heaven.
So, yes, for the day, life is good :)
21 July 2010
Blah
Today is the kind of day . . . when I'm lucky pulling out all my hair is too painful to endure. And that's about all I can say without sounding too whiny - and I still might be pushing it.
Here's to a better evening!
Here's to a better evening!
20 July 2010
Today . . .
Pro: Emmett woke only at 3:30am and 7:30am to eat.
Con: When he was finished with his 7:30 feeding I had to expend every ounce of energy in my being (which isn't much at that time of the morning) to get my booty out of bed in order to get the three of us out the door on time for my doctor's appointment.
Pro: Despite getting out the door ten minutes late I did not forget one solitary thing - which means I had Micaiah ready to hang out with Daddy at work, complete with breakfast (milk, cereal and banana), DVD Player (and DVD), crayons, paper, and even her diapers (and wipes) - we got Micaiah dropped off and Emmett and I were actually in the doctor's office on time!
Con: The doctor was not in his office on time - which means Little Man and I sat in the waiting room for an hour and a half - straight through to his next feeding.
Pro: My not forgetting anything as I ran out the door included remembering to bring a bottle for Emmett, just in case.
Con: When I finally emerged from the clinic at exactly two hours after my appointment time, hubby was not so ecstatic to have missed out on so much critical work time (understandably so as he's been working overtime - nights and weekends - for the past week) due to a rambunctious toddler in his office.
Pro: The afternoon went much more smoothly - I even got some work done around the house while Micaiah napped. And hubby even got home before 7pm and we were able to go for dinner out thanks to random money in the mail today.
Con: I may or may not have had an emotional breakdown after spending $30 on a dinner (which I had suggested) that was neither remarkable nor stress-free, crying that if we were going to splurge we could have put our random money toward something a little more exciting than a mediocre meal.
Pro: Philip gave me a really good hug when we got home and let me cry all I needed (which I may or may not have taken advantage of).
Con: We didn't get the lawn mowed.
Pro: Philip and I snuggled on the couch and watched a movie of my choice - and he also gave Emmett a manicure so I would stop getting scratched while he ate.
Con: Emmett's right pointer finger may have turned out a little worse for the wear after the aforementioned manicure.
Pro: Emmett went to bed quickly after eating without even a peep, I got a shower, and now I get to go to sleep.
Sigh. Such is life.
Con: When he was finished with his 7:30 feeding I had to expend every ounce of energy in my being (which isn't much at that time of the morning) to get my booty out of bed in order to get the three of us out the door on time for my doctor's appointment.
Pro: Despite getting out the door ten minutes late I did not forget one solitary thing - which means I had Micaiah ready to hang out with Daddy at work, complete with breakfast (milk, cereal and banana), DVD Player (and DVD), crayons, paper, and even her diapers (and wipes) - we got Micaiah dropped off and Emmett and I were actually in the doctor's office on time!
Con: The doctor was not in his office on time - which means Little Man and I sat in the waiting room for an hour and a half - straight through to his next feeding.
Pro: My not forgetting anything as I ran out the door included remembering to bring a bottle for Emmett, just in case.
Con: When I finally emerged from the clinic at exactly two hours after my appointment time, hubby was not so ecstatic to have missed out on so much critical work time (understandably so as he's been working overtime - nights and weekends - for the past week) due to a rambunctious toddler in his office.
Pro: The afternoon went much more smoothly - I even got some work done around the house while Micaiah napped. And hubby even got home before 7pm and we were able to go for dinner out thanks to random money in the mail today.
Con: I may or may not have had an emotional breakdown after spending $30 on a dinner (which I had suggested) that was neither remarkable nor stress-free, crying that if we were going to splurge we could have put our random money toward something a little more exciting than a mediocre meal.
Pro: Philip gave me a really good hug when we got home and let me cry all I needed (which I may or may not have taken advantage of).
Con: We didn't get the lawn mowed.
Pro: Philip and I snuggled on the couch and watched a movie of my choice - and he also gave Emmett a manicure so I would stop getting scratched while he ate.
Con: Emmett's right pointer finger may have turned out a little worse for the wear after the aforementioned manicure.
Pro: Emmett went to bed quickly after eating without even a peep, I got a shower, and now I get to go to sleep.
Sigh. Such is life.
19 July 2010
Cease Striving
My little guy can get a little overeager sometimes when his tummy's a-grumblin'. Many times when I attempt to feed him he is so anxiously aiming to find food that he more often finds his fists instead - and quickly attaches himself to them. I find myself fighting with him, which, by the way, is pretty tough - baby arms are strong! I try to explain to the little guy that he's only getting in his own way; I'm trying to help. Of course, he ignores me and sometimes gets angry, until, of course, he realizes I really do have food for him, at which point he goes to town and forgets what we were even arguing about.
I realized the other morning (a 3am revelation for you) that things are no different between myself and God. Oftentimes I get entirely caught up in trying to get what I want and putting my own effort into making things happen. More often than not I end up in a bigger mess than I was when I started. Meanwhile, God is doing all He can to convince me to just give up and let Him show me the way. And I just get too darn stubborn.
I need to take the lesson I'm trying to teach my son and learn to just get out of my own way - who knows what I'll discover when I just stop fighting.
"Cease striving and know that I am God." - Psalm 46:10 (NASB)
I realized the other morning (a 3am revelation for you) that things are no different between myself and God. Oftentimes I get entirely caught up in trying to get what I want and putting my own effort into making things happen. More often than not I end up in a bigger mess than I was when I started. Meanwhile, God is doing all He can to convince me to just give up and let Him show me the way. And I just get too darn stubborn.
I need to take the lesson I'm trying to teach my son and learn to just get out of my own way - who knows what I'll discover when I just stop fighting.
"Cease striving and know that I am God." - Psalm 46:10 (NASB)
18 July 2010
A Waste of Time
Now that I've turned everyone away with my horrible feelings toward some babies (who makes fun of babies?!), let's move on . . .
I have an analogy to share something I learned today. It's kind of long, so stick with me.
Philip and I watched a movie last week (I won't share the title in case you watch it someday - I don't want to be a complete spoiler) which involved a young man who made a movie as a form of apology to the love of his life. It was your typical chick flick but with a twist. The movie he made was a re-telling of the downfall between he and his beloved. In his tale, the young Romeo was engaged to Girl A and was due to wed in three short weeks when Girl B entered the picture. As you can guess, there is an attraction, he breaks it off with Girl A, things get awkward with Girl B and by the end of his movie he has no girl at all. Meanwhile, in the audience of his movie is a female who looks remarkably similar to the actress cast as Girl A, leading one to assume that he is attempting to win back his former fiancee. Thus the twist in the end when we learn the girl in the theater with whom he wishes to reignite the relationship is, in actuality, Girl B. They kiss, the girls at home go "awww". The end.
What you thought was reality the entire movie, which was, truly, a little disappointing (because you totally love Girl B), turned out to be the complete opposite of what was truly real (in the fake sense because, well, it was a movie).
Today, for the first time since we got home from the hospital, I held my baby boy while he fell asleep on my chest as I lay on the couch and I let him rest there for over an hour while I simply enjoyed his presence. I had watched others do this very activity with my own son various times in the past weeks but was always too "busy" myself to relax and breathe him in. Every time he has been in my arms I have thought about the things I need to get done which cannot be accomplished with his being there - so I pass him off, set him down, get to work. I can't just waste time.
And today I noticed the twist - the assumption under which I'd been operating turns out to be, in actuality, the opposite of the truth. What I've thought to be the important work all along - getting the dishes done, checking e-mail, folding clothes, picking up toys - these tasks will always be there, an unending repetition of the same chores, day after day, week after week. My baby boy? Growing before my very eyes.
Almost two years ago I was depositing my darling daughter into her swing so she could nap while I did the dishes or mopped the floor. Guess what? The dishes are still dirty and the floor still has sticky spots (more so now that a certain toddler is toting around a leaky sippie cup of juice every now and then), but that darling daughter? She's running faster than I can keep up and falling asleep on my chest? Forget about it. I'm lucky if she even wants to sit in my lap for five minutes. And even then I often shut her down in favor of things I "need to get done."
But now I realize - treasuring my kids now, while they are still here with me - that's the important thing. All that other stuff? Well, when it comes between me and my two greatest jewels, it's simply a waste of time.
I have an analogy to share something I learned today. It's kind of long, so stick with me.
Philip and I watched a movie last week (I won't share the title in case you watch it someday - I don't want to be a complete spoiler) which involved a young man who made a movie as a form of apology to the love of his life. It was your typical chick flick but with a twist. The movie he made was a re-telling of the downfall between he and his beloved. In his tale, the young Romeo was engaged to Girl A and was due to wed in three short weeks when Girl B entered the picture. As you can guess, there is an attraction, he breaks it off with Girl A, things get awkward with Girl B and by the end of his movie he has no girl at all. Meanwhile, in the audience of his movie is a female who looks remarkably similar to the actress cast as Girl A, leading one to assume that he is attempting to win back his former fiancee. Thus the twist in the end when we learn the girl in the theater with whom he wishes to reignite the relationship is, in actuality, Girl B. They kiss, the girls at home go "awww". The end.
What you thought was reality the entire movie, which was, truly, a little disappointing (because you totally love Girl B), turned out to be the complete opposite of what was truly real (in the fake sense because, well, it was a movie).
Today, for the first time since we got home from the hospital, I held my baby boy while he fell asleep on my chest as I lay on the couch and I let him rest there for over an hour while I simply enjoyed his presence. I had watched others do this very activity with my own son various times in the past weeks but was always too "busy" myself to relax and breathe him in. Every time he has been in my arms I have thought about the things I need to get done which cannot be accomplished with his being there - so I pass him off, set him down, get to work. I can't just waste time.
And today I noticed the twist - the assumption under which I'd been operating turns out to be, in actuality, the opposite of the truth. What I've thought to be the important work all along - getting the dishes done, checking e-mail, folding clothes, picking up toys - these tasks will always be there, an unending repetition of the same chores, day after day, week after week. My baby boy? Growing before my very eyes.
Almost two years ago I was depositing my darling daughter into her swing so she could nap while I did the dishes or mopped the floor. Guess what? The dishes are still dirty and the floor still has sticky spots (more so now that a certain toddler is toting around a leaky sippie cup of juice every now and then), but that darling daughter? She's running faster than I can keep up and falling asleep on my chest? Forget about it. I'm lucky if she even wants to sit in my lap for five minutes. And even then I often shut her down in favor of things I "need to get done."
But now I realize - treasuring my kids now, while they are still here with me - that's the important thing. All that other stuff? Well, when it comes between me and my two greatest jewels, it's simply a waste of time.
17 July 2010
Karma
I fear I will have a fat baby.
I know it shouldn't bother me, but for some reason I get slightly repulsed at the sight of a really fat baby*. I mean, I know they're precious and I know there is nothing wrong with them and I know most fat babies grow up to be beautiful, average-weight (if not downright skinny) individuals. Their infant obesity is nothing abnormal and not any sign of over-indulgence. I'm not judging anyone. I guess I just find it oddly fascinating - like a car accident, I suppose. I can't help but stare in morbid awe, captivated by the large rolls I find both minutely off-putting and humorous at the same time.
And because of this minor revulsion at the abnormally chubby ones, I have this inner feeling God will choose to build compassion in me the hard way.
Emmett is packing on the pounds and while he's not fat yet, he's definitely much pudgier than he was at birth. I know this is normal but I see chub in our future. And on that note, our daughter, while also not fat, is quite stout - she outgrows her clothes in width before she does so in length.
And I love her. And I love my Emmett. And I wouldn't trade either of them for the world's skinniest babies and I know even if/when Emmett himself could be easily confused for a marshmallow with a face I won't even notice because my eyes will only ever see the most adorable baby boy on the planet.
I'm just saying.
*I understand some mothers of fat babies may feel offended by my feelings but please know, I still love all babies - and I don't think fat equals ugly. I simply find it fascinating to see so many pounds on such a little person.
I know it shouldn't bother me, but for some reason I get slightly repulsed at the sight of a really fat baby*. I mean, I know they're precious and I know there is nothing wrong with them and I know most fat babies grow up to be beautiful, average-weight (if not downright skinny) individuals. Their infant obesity is nothing abnormal and not any sign of over-indulgence. I'm not judging anyone. I guess I just find it oddly fascinating - like a car accident, I suppose. I can't help but stare in morbid awe, captivated by the large rolls I find both minutely off-putting and humorous at the same time.
And because of this minor revulsion at the abnormally chubby ones, I have this inner feeling God will choose to build compassion in me the hard way.
Emmett is packing on the pounds and while he's not fat yet, he's definitely much pudgier than he was at birth. I know this is normal but I see chub in our future. And on that note, our daughter, while also not fat, is quite stout - she outgrows her clothes in width before she does so in length.
And I love her. And I love my Emmett. And I wouldn't trade either of them for the world's skinniest babies and I know even if/when Emmett himself could be easily confused for a marshmallow with a face I won't even notice because my eyes will only ever see the most adorable baby boy on the planet.
I'm just saying.
*I understand some mothers of fat babies may feel offended by my feelings but please know, I still love all babies - and I don't think fat equals ugly. I simply find it fascinating to see so many pounds on such a little person.
16 July 2010
Commitment
I almost forgot today.
It's not the first night that I remembered just before declaring it was time for bed (notice the time stamps and you'll see that). But tonight was the first night that I was darn near ready to crawl onto the matress - the computers were off, the baby was crying, I'd been trying for the past hour to just get to bed, with one thing after another impeding my progress. And just as I'm finally pulling on my pj's, more than ready to settle into the marvelous land of slumber, I heard a voice (which would be my husband's) say, "It's not a big deal, but did you write a blog post today?"
Sigh.
"Yes," I told him as I left the room, "it is a big deal."
Because to me this blog is a symbol. A symbol of commitment. Something at which I generally tend to fail. I know I am not alone in this arena - thus the existence of the cliched New Year's Resolution that generally fails to last past January (and those are the dedicated ones).
But not this time. This time I was not going to let the excuse "It's just this once" creep into my psyche. Because that's a slippery slope and I want to stay the course. I really want to succeed.
And that's why this post is about nothing more than the fact that I nearly forgot - because even if that's all I've got (I honestly tried for the 10 minutes it took my computer to re-boot to come up with something a little more interesting than this), it's important that I put something here. That my fingers continue in their habit of tapping out the menial details of my average life. Because it's my goal.
And it's a big deal.
It's not the first night that I remembered just before declaring it was time for bed (notice the time stamps and you'll see that). But tonight was the first night that I was darn near ready to crawl onto the matress - the computers were off, the baby was crying, I'd been trying for the past hour to just get to bed, with one thing after another impeding my progress. And just as I'm finally pulling on my pj's, more than ready to settle into the marvelous land of slumber, I heard a voice (which would be my husband's) say, "It's not a big deal, but did you write a blog post today?"
Sigh.
"Yes," I told him as I left the room, "it is a big deal."
Because to me this blog is a symbol. A symbol of commitment. Something at which I generally tend to fail. I know I am not alone in this arena - thus the existence of the cliched New Year's Resolution that generally fails to last past January (and those are the dedicated ones).
But not this time. This time I was not going to let the excuse "It's just this once" creep into my psyche. Because that's a slippery slope and I want to stay the course. I really want to succeed.
And that's why this post is about nothing more than the fact that I nearly forgot - because even if that's all I've got (I honestly tried for the 10 minutes it took my computer to re-boot to come up with something a little more interesting than this), it's important that I put something here. That my fingers continue in their habit of tapping out the menial details of my average life. Because it's my goal.
And it's a big deal.
15 July 2010
Feelings
Oh what a wonderful way to start a day. The kids let me sleep in! Until 10am! Oh what a blessing and a joy!
After a start like that it's only downhill from there, right? I mean, honestly, sleep and a shower, could a mother have a better day? Okay, okay, yes. There are many other things that quantify a marvelous day. Watching a joyful toddler proudly hold her baby brother on her lap, nuzzling her cheek against his, for instance. A scene like that beats a shower any day.
And then there are the moments when that same joyful (and disobedient) toddler squirts herself in the eye with a mixture of vinegar and water from a spray bottle her mother very clearly told her NOT to touch (has told her for the past couple of days, as a matter of fact). It would seem, from the screams, that vinegar in the eye is a very unpleasant feeling, as is the feeling of knowing your daughter is in pain.
A nice feeling, though, is having her wipe her tears in your chest as you attempt to ease her discomfort by the only means available - a giant, unending hug that somehow makes the pain bearable for both of us.
Another nice feeling is knowing that, being that she's punished herself the best way possible, we probably won't have to deal with the spray bottle issue again in the foreseeable future.
After a start like that it's only downhill from there, right? I mean, honestly, sleep and a shower, could a mother have a better day? Okay, okay, yes. There are many other things that quantify a marvelous day. Watching a joyful toddler proudly hold her baby brother on her lap, nuzzling her cheek against his, for instance. A scene like that beats a shower any day.
And then there are the moments when that same joyful (and disobedient) toddler squirts herself in the eye with a mixture of vinegar and water from a spray bottle her mother very clearly told her NOT to touch (has told her for the past couple of days, as a matter of fact). It would seem, from the screams, that vinegar in the eye is a very unpleasant feeling, as is the feeling of knowing your daughter is in pain.
A nice feeling, though, is having her wipe her tears in your chest as you attempt to ease her discomfort by the only means available - a giant, unending hug that somehow makes the pain bearable for both of us.
Another nice feeling is knowing that, being that she's punished herself the best way possible, we probably won't have to deal with the spray bottle issue again in the foreseeable future.
14 July 2010
Not Gonna Lie
In the interest of brutal honesty, I'll share my night last night with you all.
Apparently Emmett read yesterday's post and decided to mock me. "Three hours is bad?" he said to himself, "I'll show her!" And thus he woke even more frequently last night. If you recall, I had not quite been blessed with the opportunity to make up for my lost rest the night before so by the time yesterday evening came, I was not ready to wake in the middle of the night, let alone as often as he demanded.
By 3:15am I was crying as a result of a lack of sleep, an overwhelming amount of bitterness and a desire to simply step away from being a mommy for just a day.
Here is my pure honesty: My faith at this point began to falter. You see, I had prayed yesterday for the opportunity for just one little nap. That did not happen. I prayed last night that he would sleep well. That did not happen. I prayed even after his first feeding that maybe he would sleep just a little longer than he had been. He slept an hour less. Why did it seem that for every petition I lifted out of desperation I received not only a "no" in response, but what appeared to be the exact opposite? I was afraid to pray further for fear this restlessness would get even worse. And I was ashamed.
God was breaking me. And by 5:30am He succeeded. After one more hour of sleep, clearness began to enter my foggy mind. Rather than a bitterness at the fact that my son was crying yet again, I was overcome with a feeling of thankfulness.
I have a baby.
A healthy, wonderful baby boy.
His beautiful older sister was sleeping peacefully in the room next door.
I have so much for which I should be uttering unending prayers of gratitude. I have what others only dream of and here I have the audacity to be angry that I'm called to care for these blessings? How selfish could I get?
So as my sleepy and hungry son nuzzled next to me, his soft hair brushing my arm, I gave thanks to my God, my Provider. Thanks for this life where the most difficult thing I face is sleeping a couple hours less than I am used to. And, rather than my selfish words of pleading, I lifted prayers for those I know who actually are in desperate need at this moment.
Forgive me, Lord, for my ungratefulness. Remind me always of the blessings I have received.
Apparently Emmett read yesterday's post and decided to mock me. "Three hours is bad?" he said to himself, "I'll show her!" And thus he woke even more frequently last night. If you recall, I had not quite been blessed with the opportunity to make up for my lost rest the night before so by the time yesterday evening came, I was not ready to wake in the middle of the night, let alone as often as he demanded.
By 3:15am I was crying as a result of a lack of sleep, an overwhelming amount of bitterness and a desire to simply step away from being a mommy for just a day.
Here is my pure honesty: My faith at this point began to falter. You see, I had prayed yesterday for the opportunity for just one little nap. That did not happen. I prayed last night that he would sleep well. That did not happen. I prayed even after his first feeding that maybe he would sleep just a little longer than he had been. He slept an hour less. Why did it seem that for every petition I lifted out of desperation I received not only a "no" in response, but what appeared to be the exact opposite? I was afraid to pray further for fear this restlessness would get even worse. And I was ashamed.
God was breaking me. And by 5:30am He succeeded. After one more hour of sleep, clearness began to enter my foggy mind. Rather than a bitterness at the fact that my son was crying yet again, I was overcome with a feeling of thankfulness.
I have a baby.
A healthy, wonderful baby boy.
His beautiful older sister was sleeping peacefully in the room next door.
I have so much for which I should be uttering unending prayers of gratitude. I have what others only dream of and here I have the audacity to be angry that I'm called to care for these blessings? How selfish could I get?
So as my sleepy and hungry son nuzzled next to me, his soft hair brushing my arm, I gave thanks to my God, my Provider. Thanks for this life where the most difficult thing I face is sleeping a couple hours less than I am used to. And, rather than my selfish words of pleading, I lifted prayers for those I know who actually are in desperate need at this moment.
Forgive me, Lord, for my ungratefulness. Remind me always of the blessings I have received.
13 July 2010
Not Just a Glitch
As a result of my high school Childcare and Development class I once spent a week as the mother of an animatronic infant whose crying could be quieted only by the turning of a key in its back. I only wish it was that easy - or rather, I only wish real children only cried when they were hungry (the key was a symbolic bottle - why it went in the back rather than the mouth one can only guess). My fake baby (Cilicia Ruth was her name - it was my favorite at the time) was at first quite easy to deal with. She cried every two hours during the day and every five hours at night. I would have to sit up with her for a half hour until she cooed, her way of saying, "Get that key out of my back, you freak." After the first couple of days I was saddened to discover my poor baby must have been kicked in the head or something because her computer chip had gotten out of whack - she was now crying every five hours during the day and waking me from peaceful slumber every two hours. This could not be right. Stupid technology!
Little did I realize how true to life tiny Cilicia really was. After a night with nice breaks between feedings, allowing for a rather wonderful night's sleep, little EB continued sleeping so well through the day yesterday that I was literally waking him to eat after four or more hours. But when it was time for me to sleep, guess who suddenly decided he HAD to eat every three hours (which, yes, I understand is still a dream for some mothers, but when you're sleepwalking to your child's room in the middle of the night you couldn't care less about other mothers).
And speaking of his inconvenient schedule, guess who also decided he didn't need to cry at all today except for when Mommy was attempting to take advantage of Big Sister's naptime to snag a little shut-eye of her own. Guess, then, which two girls of the house were deprived of their proper sleep. And guess who was most annoyed about it - I'll give you a hint, it wasn't the toddler who still got to sleep 12 hours last night.
Ah, the ups and downs of mommy-hood - Cilicia tried to warn me.
Little did I realize how true to life tiny Cilicia really was. After a night with nice breaks between feedings, allowing for a rather wonderful night's sleep, little EB continued sleeping so well through the day yesterday that I was literally waking him to eat after four or more hours. But when it was time for me to sleep, guess who suddenly decided he HAD to eat every three hours (which, yes, I understand is still a dream for some mothers, but when you're sleepwalking to your child's room in the middle of the night you couldn't care less about other mothers).
And speaking of his inconvenient schedule, guess who also decided he didn't need to cry at all today except for when Mommy was attempting to take advantage of Big Sister's naptime to snag a little shut-eye of her own. Guess, then, which two girls of the house were deprived of their proper sleep. And guess who was most annoyed about it - I'll give you a hint, it wasn't the toddler who still got to sleep 12 hours last night.
Ah, the ups and downs of mommy-hood - Cilicia tried to warn me.
12 July 2010
Of Movies and Sisters
I realized I forgot to mention: EB had his first movie theater experience on Saturday. We all enjoyed a family date downtown which included a showing of How to Train Your Dragon (and dinner at Fazoli's - a rare but oh-so-wonderful treat!). Of course, being frugal and wise parents we opted for the cheap theater experience because paying $2 a ticket makes it much easier to bite the bullet and walk out if the children make it necessary. If I pay $10 a ticket, some very angry movie-goers are just going to have to deal with listening to a kid a scream.
They actually did fairly well. I had to miss a portion of the beginning because EB was NOT happy, but once he got some food in his tummy, all was good in his world. Incidentally, the same was true for CB - when you keep the munchies (i.e. Multigrain Cheerios and the occasional kid-sized handful of popcorn) rolling, you keep the kid happy. Did I mention previously my children love to eat?
On a different note, I often get the question of how CB is dealing with her new baby brother and it makes me happy to say she absolutely loves him. The first couple of days, when she realized he wasn't going anywhere, there was a little anxiety, but she has definitely warmed up. My favorite part of the day is when she wakes up in the morning with her first question being, "Emmett?" And then when she gets her first morning glimpse of him there is always a very excited "Emmett!!!" He's like a movie star around here.
The only issue thus far is that, as many know, a toddler does not understand that the amount of affection towards one's sibling is not equal to the amount of force in the touching/hugging/hitting-with-the-shoe-in-the-face. So we're working on that - but she totally has the good night kiss-on-the-forehead down and that makes it all worth it :)
They actually did fairly well. I had to miss a portion of the beginning because EB was NOT happy, but once he got some food in his tummy, all was good in his world. Incidentally, the same was true for CB - when you keep the munchies (i.e. Multigrain Cheerios and the occasional kid-sized handful of popcorn) rolling, you keep the kid happy. Did I mention previously my children love to eat?
On a different note, I often get the question of how CB is dealing with her new baby brother and it makes me happy to say she absolutely loves him. The first couple of days, when she realized he wasn't going anywhere, there was a little anxiety, but she has definitely warmed up. My favorite part of the day is when she wakes up in the morning with her first question being, "Emmett?" And then when she gets her first morning glimpse of him there is always a very excited "Emmett!!!" He's like a movie star around here.
The only issue thus far is that, as many know, a toddler does not understand that the amount of affection towards one's sibling is not equal to the amount of force in the touching/hugging/hitting-with-the-shoe-in-the-face. So we're working on that - but she totally has the good night kiss-on-the-forehead down and that makes it all worth it :)
11 July 2010
Like a Weed
I cannot believe how fast my little boy is growing up. It makes me sad that his "Newborn" onesies are already tight on him. Truthfully, that's partially because the cloth diapers he's started wearing since his cord fell off tend to give him a ghetto booty and fill out those little bodysuits a little quicker than his mom-inherited non-booty typically would. But even so, he's growing up. He slept in his own room last night for the very first time and rocked the crib like a champ. And this morning he joined all of his future friends in the church nursery for the first time. Such a big boy!
Now that I actually have to get out of bed to feed him at night, I was thinking at 2:30 this morning that maybe it's about time I invested in a Slanket (the high class Snuggie) because it's a little chilly in the house at that time and getting a blanket over my shoulders while juggling a baby in my lap just doesn't work for me. I realized, though, that not wanting to smother my child, I would probably have to wear the Slanket backwards - it would mostly be for my arms anyway. At that point it donned on me - hey that's what the rest of the world calls a robe. So maybe, rather than spending a chunk of change on a blanket that makes me look like a cultist, I should just pull my plush robe out of the back of the closet. There's 2:30am thinking for you.
And this post is 11:45pm typing for you, so I think it's about time to call it quits. Night, all.
Now that I actually have to get out of bed to feed him at night, I was thinking at 2:30 this morning that maybe it's about time I invested in a Slanket (the high class Snuggie) because it's a little chilly in the house at that time and getting a blanket over my shoulders while juggling a baby in my lap just doesn't work for me. I realized, though, that not wanting to smother my child, I would probably have to wear the Slanket backwards - it would mostly be for my arms anyway. At that point it donned on me - hey that's what the rest of the world calls a robe. So maybe, rather than spending a chunk of change on a blanket that makes me look like a cultist, I should just pull my plush robe out of the back of the closet. There's 2:30am thinking for you.
And this post is 11:45pm typing for you, so I think it's about time to call it quits. Night, all.
10 July 2010
Are you new here?
I don't care if I've done this before, I feel like a first-time parent all over again.
After giving birth for the first time, many seasoned moms tried to make me feel better about the prospects of continuing our family with the words, "Don't worry, you'll forget" - meaning the memory of the pain dwindles and is far overshadowed with the joy of parenthood. I would, by the way, say this was overall true. What they failed to mention was that the labor pains were not the only first steps of parenting one forgets. With every new stage our beautiful toddler enters, I tend to forget that she was ever anything different than what she is now. I cannot fathom a time when she didn't run to the door to greet daddy, let alone back to the day we were thrilled that she lifted her head an inch off the floor.
Therefore, being at these beginning stages all over again is like starting fresh. Which isn't always helpful. Like when he won't stop crying. Let's tackle that for a minute. Our little Caiah Bear was the most mellow child on the planet. In fact, when she's had a good nap, she still generally is. She rarely cried unless it was right at feeding time or I'd just let her fall off my lap and land on her head (not that that ever happened . . .). I've told people over and over again that if this second one cried I wouldn't know what to do. And I was right.
I do remember one night, only days after bringing Micaiah home from the hospital, I was frantically working my way through "On Becoming Babywise" (a book I thoroughly recommend to ANY parent), which discusses scheduling and the like. Meanwhile, Micaiah is laying in her pack 'n play screaming her little lungs out, Philip looking at me asking, "What do I do?!" and me crying back, "I don't know, I haven't gotten to that chapter yet!"
I had that same moment yesterday - Emmett screaming with all he had while laying on the floor, me IMing Philip, "What do I do?!" and all the time thinking, "Shouldn't I know this already? Haven't I done this before?"
Truth be told, I have no idea how we got Micaiah to where we are today. Somehow, one day after the other of fumbling through this parenting thing we got to today - a fairly well-adjusted, semi-obedient nearly-two-year-old. Thus, I know that somehow, one day after another of continuing to fumble through life we will make it to fairly well-adjusted, semi-intelligent adults - even if we couldn't tell you how we got there.
Here's praying, anyway.
After giving birth for the first time, many seasoned moms tried to make me feel better about the prospects of continuing our family with the words, "Don't worry, you'll forget" - meaning the memory of the pain dwindles and is far overshadowed with the joy of parenthood. I would, by the way, say this was overall true. What they failed to mention was that the labor pains were not the only first steps of parenting one forgets. With every new stage our beautiful toddler enters, I tend to forget that she was ever anything different than what she is now. I cannot fathom a time when she didn't run to the door to greet daddy, let alone back to the day we were thrilled that she lifted her head an inch off the floor.
Therefore, being at these beginning stages all over again is like starting fresh. Which isn't always helpful. Like when he won't stop crying. Let's tackle that for a minute. Our little Caiah Bear was the most mellow child on the planet. In fact, when she's had a good nap, she still generally is. She rarely cried unless it was right at feeding time or I'd just let her fall off my lap and land on her head (not that that ever happened . . .). I've told people over and over again that if this second one cried I wouldn't know what to do. And I was right.
I do remember one night, only days after bringing Micaiah home from the hospital, I was frantically working my way through "On Becoming Babywise" (a book I thoroughly recommend to ANY parent), which discusses scheduling and the like. Meanwhile, Micaiah is laying in her pack 'n play screaming her little lungs out, Philip looking at me asking, "What do I do?!" and me crying back, "I don't know, I haven't gotten to that chapter yet!"
I had that same moment yesterday - Emmett screaming with all he had while laying on the floor, me IMing Philip, "What do I do?!" and all the time thinking, "Shouldn't I know this already? Haven't I done this before?"
Truth be told, I have no idea how we got Micaiah to where we are today. Somehow, one day after the other of fumbling through this parenting thing we got to today - a fairly well-adjusted, semi-obedient nearly-two-year-old. Thus, I know that somehow, one day after another of continuing to fumble through life we will make it to fairly well-adjusted, semi-intelligent adults - even if we couldn't tell you how we got there.
Here's praying, anyway.
09 July 2010
The Name Game
After three and a half weeks solid of visitors (I say solid, truthfully there were two days in there which were saved for ourselves), we are finally getting the chance to see what family life will be like for just the four of us. We have definitely enjoyed the time with family and the ability to adapt to a newborn while having constant entertainment (in the form of playmates) for our little Caiah Bear (CB), but there is still something to be said for having some quiet nuclear-family time and we're looking forward to it.
Thus, now that the house is quieting down for a short while (i.e. the extent of naptime) I will take the opportunity to divulge the explanation behind the naming of Emmett.
The day we found out we were having a boy, there was much trepidation on the part of both mommy and daddy. We were used to a baby girl - we knew what to do with her and felt we had a pretty good handle on this parenting a daughter thing. But a boy was a whole different story and, to us, carried much more responsibility. We were to be in charge of growing our baby boy into a godly man who will be the leader of his home one day. Yes, we understand it is also our task to grow CB into a godly woman, wife and mother, but growing a boy into a man just seems so much more daunting. And we weren't sure we were up to it.
The day after the ultrasound, I continued with my Bible study through Proverbs. That morning's passage came from the third chapter, which depicts instruction from a father to his son on wise living. Verses 3-4 in my ESV Study Bible read: "Let not steadfast love and faithfulness forsake you; bind them around your neck; write them on the tablet of your heart. So you will find favor and good success in the sight of God and man."
I found it very interesting that the key to godly success as noted in these verses was found in living a life defined by love and faithfulness (or, as the NASB puts it, kindness and truth). Whereas the world emphasizes power and strength when looking for a successful man, God looks deeper. I wanted for our son to live his life according to God's definition of success. These verses would be a guiding point for me in raising my son according to God's standards.
Thus, when considering a name for our son, I decided to look into the original Hebrew in verse 3. The Hebrew word for "kindness" was "checed" (pronounced "khesed"). Ok, so maybe this wasn't a good plan . . . But then I found the word for "truth": "'ehmeth" (pronounced "ehmet"). Well, now that sounded like "Emmett" to me and that name could definitely work. Philip agreed and we mulled over it for, literally, months. But no matter what other name we thought of, we always came back to Emmett and, thus, he was born.
An interesting fact to note is that while we chose his name for the Hebrew word, most baby name sources site his name as coming from a German origin meaning, "Strength." I found a bit of irony in the point that I had considered strength to be the worldly standard while truth was the godly standard and here his name meant both.
His middle name was chosen almost immediately, long before we had its antecedent. We both liked the name Elijah, which means "The Lord is my God", but Philip preferred it as a middle name, so we went with that plan.
And there you have it. The history behind Baby Emmett's name. I hope your curiosity was thoroughly satisfied.
Oh, and a couple of pictures, because I can . . .
"That would be me: Amazing!"
That's my little super hero, racing off to save the day.
Thus, now that the house is quieting down for a short while (i.e. the extent of naptime) I will take the opportunity to divulge the explanation behind the naming of Emmett.
The day we found out we were having a boy, there was much trepidation on the part of both mommy and daddy. We were used to a baby girl - we knew what to do with her and felt we had a pretty good handle on this parenting a daughter thing. But a boy was a whole different story and, to us, carried much more responsibility. We were to be in charge of growing our baby boy into a godly man who will be the leader of his home one day. Yes, we understand it is also our task to grow CB into a godly woman, wife and mother, but growing a boy into a man just seems so much more daunting. And we weren't sure we were up to it.
The day after the ultrasound, I continued with my Bible study through Proverbs. That morning's passage came from the third chapter, which depicts instruction from a father to his son on wise living. Verses 3-4 in my ESV Study Bible read: "Let not steadfast love and faithfulness forsake you; bind them around your neck; write them on the tablet of your heart. So you will find favor and good success in the sight of God and man."
I found it very interesting that the key to godly success as noted in these verses was found in living a life defined by love and faithfulness (or, as the NASB puts it, kindness and truth). Whereas the world emphasizes power and strength when looking for a successful man, God looks deeper. I wanted for our son to live his life according to God's definition of success. These verses would be a guiding point for me in raising my son according to God's standards.
Thus, when considering a name for our son, I decided to look into the original Hebrew in verse 3. The Hebrew word for "kindness" was "checed" (pronounced "khesed"). Ok, so maybe this wasn't a good plan . . . But then I found the word for "truth": "'ehmeth" (pronounced "ehmet"). Well, now that sounded like "Emmett" to me and that name could definitely work. Philip agreed and we mulled over it for, literally, months. But no matter what other name we thought of, we always came back to Emmett and, thus, he was born.
An interesting fact to note is that while we chose his name for the Hebrew word, most baby name sources site his name as coming from a German origin meaning, "Strength." I found a bit of irony in the point that I had considered strength to be the worldly standard while truth was the godly standard and here his name meant both.
His middle name was chosen almost immediately, long before we had its antecedent. We both liked the name Elijah, which means "The Lord is my God", but Philip preferred it as a middle name, so we went with that plan.
And there you have it. The history behind Baby Emmett's name. I hope your curiosity was thoroughly satisfied.
Oh, and a couple of pictures, because I can . . .
"That would be me: Amazing!"
That's my little super hero, racing off to save the day.08 July 2010
Inspiration
I've been inspired. As lame as it sounds, my recent viewing of Julie & Julia has struck a chord with the blogger in me. Thus, I have a goal. In an effort to be more consistent with my blogging, I've decided to blog every day of my son's first year. I've missed out on 21 days, but I'm not going to let that stop me. I'm calling it "The first year of life for my second child as told from his third week." Like it? Okay, maybe it could take some work, but I like the 1-2-3 feel.
I'm looking forward to being forced to stop and notice what is going on around me every day. I've been afraid of losing the little moments with my second child, having seen many of the small changes as they occurred with my first. Thus, my blog will now serve as a stop sign, prodding me to look around and watch the grass grow in my life.
Our Emmett Bug (as I call him, heretofore known as EB), who entered this world at 8lb 5oz weighed in this morning at 10lb 12oz. And he's stretched 2 inches since birth as well. No one can accuse my children of not eating (you would also know this if you've ever seen my daughter, particularly at snack time). Before being weighed by the nurse this morning in his doctor's office, he chose to do me a favor while we had our alone time for me to strip him down to a clean diaper. Rather than costing me an entire diaper by holding it until I put the clean one on, he decided to let it spray right there on the examining table and all over the floor.
As I frantically grabbed paper towels and debated whether or not I was allowed to change the butcher paper without the aid of a nurse (I decided, being an adult and perfectly capable of pulling a sheet of paper, I could handle it), I repeated in my head my own mantra of, "I'm sure this is not the first baby to have peed in this office." Thus, breathing slowly and working my way through the paper towel dispenser, we survived and later the doctor assured me that the little girl who vomited on the floor last week was much worse.
That's when I decided not to tell her about the paci I gave back to EB (after a thorough wipe-down by my own fingers, of course) after he tossed it to the floor. She doesn't need to know everything.
I'm looking forward to being forced to stop and notice what is going on around me every day. I've been afraid of losing the little moments with my second child, having seen many of the small changes as they occurred with my first. Thus, my blog will now serve as a stop sign, prodding me to look around and watch the grass grow in my life.
Our Emmett Bug (as I call him, heretofore known as EB), who entered this world at 8lb 5oz weighed in this morning at 10lb 12oz. And he's stretched 2 inches since birth as well. No one can accuse my children of not eating (you would also know this if you've ever seen my daughter, particularly at snack time). Before being weighed by the nurse this morning in his doctor's office, he chose to do me a favor while we had our alone time for me to strip him down to a clean diaper. Rather than costing me an entire diaper by holding it until I put the clean one on, he decided to let it spray right there on the examining table and all over the floor.
As I frantically grabbed paper towels and debated whether or not I was allowed to change the butcher paper without the aid of a nurse (I decided, being an adult and perfectly capable of pulling a sheet of paper, I could handle it), I repeated in my head my own mantra of, "I'm sure this is not the first baby to have peed in this office." Thus, breathing slowly and working my way through the paper towel dispenser, we survived and later the doctor assured me that the little girl who vomited on the floor last week was much worse.
That's when I decided not to tell her about the paci I gave back to EB (after a thorough wipe-down by my own fingers, of course) after he tossed it to the floor. She doesn't need to know everything.
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