Yesterday

A heart torn, so bare and free

left dangling from a tree.

Sways to and fro ‘till tomorrows be.

Hung by contentment’s need.

Thin and lean by some deed,

a childish glare without the glee;

on the willows bend, they faint.

Under the load which barren be

whisper a song old and sweet.

A Mothers Warning...

I have been thinking about what to say. It's too cliché to say there are no words, no sentences to fully describe the circumstances. I barely made it through the blog one time. My whole body seemed to convulse, every inch of my being seized and I felt as though something had reached deep inside my body and ripped me apart. And that is just the beginning. With that being said, I strongly urge every mother to read it. As painful and gut-wrenching as Dana's blog is, grab a box (the WHOLE box) of Kleenex, and read about Tiggy.

Through the Valley

"He will swallow up death forever;
and the Lord God will wipe away tears from all faces,
and the reproach of his people he will take away from all the earth,
for the Lord has spoken". Isaiah 25:8

The truth is, I never really wanted kids. Or, perhaps, I never thought I could have them so I had convinced myself that I did not want them. Because of that, I spent too many years festering a hardened heart. In reflection, having a stone heart was easy. With the lack of certain crucial bonds growing up, my biggest fear would be that if I did have children, I would be incapable of loving them. Now, my biggest fear is I love them so much if God, in His infinite wisdom called my children home, I wouldn't come back from it. I fear that I would be so consumed by my pain I would let it swallow me. My children are my heart, walking around outside of my body. I feel their hurt, sadness, frustration and joy, deeper and more pure than I feel my own. As I go about my day, my mind is habitually running what-ifs. With every room I enter, I scan it for potential dangers so much that I am unaware of it. With every action I take, I take with precaution. I know how fleeting this life is and I know, that our Father laid out our lives before time was set. He has ordained it all. I also understand that these babies I conceived, carried in my womb and naturally delivered, are not mine. God has seen fit to entrust them to me. Ava and Bax belong to The Lord God, as do I, my husband and every child that is called to Him.

I sat on the couch today, as my babies slept, talking to my thirteen year old niece. This is a time where God has been calling so many babies home. Because she knows the intimate sting of death, losing her baby brother. I did not want to breakdown in front of her, but I did. It was a comment I read on a post. A mommyblogger I read was in the middle of trying to decide what to bury her 22 month old son in. She couldn't get herself to let go of his favorite shirt, and there were plenty of suggestions. The one that caused me to fully cry since I heard the news, was that she should bury him in soft jammies, saying: "I'm seeing him wearing warm snuggy jammies...and your baby boy snuggled up in the arms of our Heavenly Father..." Life was so much less heartbreaking when my heart was stone. I don't think I can handle this heart of flesh. I realize that no matter how hard you try to protect your babies from every single danger, imagined or real, when our Creator calls those who are His home, He will be glorified. I have known more children that have passed away then adults, and all in such a short time. I want to yell that's it's not fair, and ask God for a time out, to pause life for just a moment so I can really tell Him how unfair it is. But... how different life would be if we never experienced this. How selfish, indulgent and indifferent we would become if we weren't reminded who we are, how we are dust. I am thankful this life is temporal, thankful that our spirit is not.

Jonathan
Baby Girl Garcia
L.S.
Charlie
Mattias

thirty-four

Today is my husbands thirty-fourth birthday. Three years ago, we celebrated his birthday together as a couple for the first time. Before we were married, we decided to do things a little differently then the new social norm. We hadn't dated long before he proposed (he waited about a month). We didn't spend time alone at his place. Instead we spent time with each other where I lived, at my sister's house, in her front-room so we would have accountability. Accountability in the form an older sister, her husband and their five daughters. We held hands, took long walks in the tree park near my house and on chilly days we'd stroll through the Autumn leaves sipping warm cider. We both have had devastating relationships in the past so we set boundaries very early on. On our wedding day, we were able to share so many firsts as husband and wife. Perhaps my most cherished is our first kiss. We were together four months before that kiss.

For his first birthday after we were married, I made a list of thirty-two things I treasured about my husband. Sitting here, reading This list I made two years ago has me feeling conflicted. I can close my eyes and recall every emotion and memory which produced a number on that list. Every smile he gave, a tender brush of his hand on mine and the continual reassurance. With the joy that list brought, the eagerness and wonder of a new bride learning how to be a wife and care for her newlyweded husband. It also brought a pang of sadness. How life can change a person in a few short years. Three years of physical struggle and pain seeps into every crevice in a marriage. Because it doesn't effect you, it effects both of you. And the once eagerness of caring for a husband and children can slowly turn into a chore. A day cemented in dread as parts of your body rapidly deteriorate. It's easy to be shut away, and that is how I am, how I've been. Over the past few weeks I have been seeing glimpses of the newly married us. And even though I'm sad that I feel so far removed from the woman who stood before God and made a covenant with her husband, I'm beginning to feel that eagerness again.

Here are thirty-four things I treasure about my husband:

1) He passionately loves God
2) He is steadfast (he wont give up on me, no matter how hard I try to push him away!)
3) Loves me abundantly
4) So very smart
5) So very, very, very hot
6) Loves to read
7) Loves my cooking
8) Supportive
9) He's my Super Hero
10) A very good provider
11) He humors me...

12) He's tender
13) He's romantic
14) He remembers dates and special events so I don't have to
15) He loves being a daddy
16) Takes care of me when I have a meltdown
17) Sets goals and meets them
18) He's very precise
19) Ava Marie Lord:

20)Baxter Isaac Lord:

21) Super creative
22) Helps me out around the house when I'm having a hard time
23) Encouraging
24) Way more patient then I am
25) Loves to be silly with Mava
26) Has his priorities straight
27) Did I mention Hot?...

28) Cute butt
29) Strong
30) Passionate
31) Faithful
32) Is an amazing daddy
33) Cherishes his family...

34) I am his and he is mine.

The Bible

After we got Mava her new little 'big girl' bed, we began discussing bedtime routines. We talked about reading the Bible to her and singing with her while Daddy plays his guitar. All of a sudden I blurted out: I know exactly what Bible we're going to use! Which was met with Aaron's reply: Yeah because you're the head of this family. "Yeah, I am (playing) and this is the Bible we're getting." I then tried my hardest to describe the Children's Bible we had growing up. Aaron quickly pulled out his laptop and within moments my childhood Bible was on the screen. I jumped up and down, clapping my hands, "That's it! That's it! Can we get it?! Please, please, please?!?" Turns out it's the same Bible my sweetie pie had growing and now our babies will grow up with it as well.

Charlie

It's been years since I watched my sister and her husband go through the heart wrenching process of losing their newborn son. I still carry with me the memory of their last tender moments as Jonathan's earthy parents, before he was lowered into the ground. I knew then it all was a part of Gods plan, He had ordained this precious life to be with us for a very short time to give glory to Him and to show us His overwhelming love, but I had yet to see the tangible byproduct of this loss. It wasn't until a few days ago that I was able to see my sisters loss from the perspective as a mother and to watch our friends experience what my sister had those years ago. It was tonight, as I sat in prayer for Bryan and Rachel, that I realized it was Gods loving, full grace that my Sister and Pat watched their son enter into our heavenly Fathers Kingdom. His death is a blessing for our friends because God has put by their side two people who have experienced the bittersweet pain of losing a child. A pain that I could never fully grasp, one that I think would overtake me. I find myself praising God for His love and provision as my heart is weeping uncontrollably for our dear friends. And for my sister.

May God give you breath, or a swift journey, beautiful Charlie.

Soli Deo Gloria

Is it Howard?

I'm not sure when it was exactly that my parents divorced. But, what I can remember of my early childhood were nights huddled with my sister as we tried to fall asleep to the sound of them fighting. It's amazing how our young minds are able to remember glimpses of memories and some how edit them to distance us from the actual events, to gloss over the vile and horrible. I remember being scared but I also have a memory of happiness. George, my birth father used to call me criss-er, at least I think so. I can't tell what is memory or fiction, a fiction made up to add those happy memories that never existed. I have heard that when two parents fight and divorce, the children take the guilt and think some how, it was their fault. I never felt that. I felt that if George, who said he loved my mother, could hurt her and yell at her like he did, then he could do the same to me. As I grew up, and he had moved on to a new family and new kids, the void grew. While we were living off of Government cheese and rice, his new family flourished. Sometimes we would get a birthday card, or a phone call once in a while and a summer visit here and there. I always felt like I was in the way, I was a burden. So we grew, we grew up with my mom, single and going to school in order to support us on her own. The last time I saw George was at my sisters wedding, the visit was brief. Perhaps because my dad was there. It was that day I stopped talking about George altogether. The man my mom had married was my dad, seemed like he was always my dad. He raised me through the hardest time, the teen years, and he still loved me no matter how mean I was to him. However, I spent most of my twenties seeking approval, trying hard to have relationships, but I didn't know how and I ended up with guys that mirrored George. It wasn't until I got married that I knew what a loving relationship was. I fought so hard with Aaron, trying to push him away and get him angry enough because I was scared. I was scared about so much and I didn't know how to deal with it. It wasn't until I sat at the desk in the Social Security office that I knew why, why I was so broken and unable to give all of myself to my new husband. The clerk had asked me one question: What is your biological fathers middle name? I didn't know. I didn't know his name, or his birth date. I didn't know anything about him, just the hurt that was caused by him. I some how figured out that it started with an H, and the clerk helped me go through all the H names until she said 'Howard'. Yes, it sounded familiar, I thought. She typed it in, and the correct birth certificate popped up and I was finally able to legally change my last name. The last remnant of my childhood was gone. He was gone. I no longer had to think about him whenever someone asked for my name. Aaron and I had our daughter, and then our son. Our little family was growing. I recently found some of my little brothers, first on MySpace, then on Facebook. Timmy filled me in on a few things, George and his mom divorced too. He told me he still sees George and that I should contact him. I still do not know why I did, but I did. I just wanted to know if he ever thought about me and my sister. Several days passed before he wrote me back. Yes, he said he thought about us, and he missed us. He thought he would never see me again and was pleased that I had written him. There was so much he wanted to say to me. I still haven't written him back. I do want to hear what he has to say, but I realized that I have yet to fully cry, to really express the anger and hurt that I have carried around for so long. And I am not sure that I am ready to face the past. I look at my daughter, and I hold her, I cuddle with my children and I feel the love and tenderness I have for these babies, these beautiful children God has blessed me abundantly with. And I can't help thinking, that if you truly love your children, if they are your heart, then how, how can you just live your life without them?

Thank You Honey

For a while now, I knew that my best shot of taking both kids to the market and various other errands required Baxter to be in some sort of carrier device. However, the Snuggily that we have isn't suitable for him until he gets a little older. After going around and around, playing other possibilities in my head, I settled on the idea of a sling. I had never liked the idea of baby slings, they seemed too "hippish" for me, but now it seemed as though, that was the best option for me. I did like the concept of the Moby Wrap, but not only are they way more money then I would ever spend on something that I won't use everyday of my life, forever, but with a toddler to chase after, those wraps are too cumbersome. That is, they aren't easily thrown on and go. I happened to be at JoAnn's during their Fourth of July sale and got several patterns for $.99, one was a pattern for two different kinds of baby carrier, one a back/frontpack and the other was a sling. A few days later, me, my mom and the kids went back to JoAnn's. I found the perfect fabric for the sling. It was very inexpensive as well, it was on clearance, and then 50% off, and then it was end of bolt, and then it was a little dirty so I spent $4 total on over two yards of two different fabrics (the white was only a $1). I only really buy patterns when they are on sale for a dollar, and I try not to spend a lot of money on fabric, because if you do pay full price, then whats the use? you could go to the store and buy the desired item for less then it would cost you to make it. The sling should have only taken me an hour to make, if that, but with babies fussing, and no pain medicine, it took me three days. I wanted to have it done by time Aaron got off work today, but for some unexplained reason (baby brain) I just couldn't figure out the last step in the sewing instructions. I tried sewing the sling together three different ways until Aaron finally offered to look at the pattern for me and see if it made sense. He did, it did and he pointed to the picture. "see, it goes like that." I felt like the BIGGEST IDIOT ever. duh. Anyway, thanks to my hubby, I finished the sling. It even has a cell phone pocket.

Happy (late) Graduation Moriah!

I started Moriah's graduation present right before I had Baxter and wasn't able to finish it due to his arrival and after he came it's taken me a whole month to adjust to two little ones. Needless to say, her purse has been on the back burner, that is until now! For some reason the fabric just screamed Moriah and the design I used was half from a pattern and half from my head. I'm pleased with the out come, especially the zipper. Zippers have always scared me for some reason, despite how easy they really are.

An Undisciplined Mommy

For some time now, I have been mulling over a response to my somewhat new role as wife and mother. Well, I guess after two years of marriage and our daughter turning one, and having our son, the role for me isn't as new as I thought it was. We got married while I was finishing up my last few semesters at CSU Chico. We had decided before we were married that I was to stay home and be a housewife, a position that I desperately yearned for, especially since I had an arm which had gotten so bad after 10 years of cutting hair, I was told that I could no longer do the work I had trained hard for. After we got married, I moved in and took the job as housewife very seriously. My sister and I had been raised by our mom, who worked long hours as a nursing student, then as an LVN and later an RN. We learned what we needed to know about house work and cooking by our mom showing us, and then we were on our own to take care of the house while she was working. So, being raised by a single mom, actually taught me a lot about house hold management, it also embedded a deep desire to be at home with my kids as my mom was unable to be for us.

At first, (and if you ask Aaron, he might have a different recollection of our brief life before kids), I was able to go to school in the morning, be home by the afternoon, do homework and clean the house with the ultimate goal of having dinner on the table for him when he got off work. For some strange reason, that was one of the most important things in my life, having dinner ready and on the table for my husband when he got home from work. Now, in a perfect world, you might not see what the problem was with that, but you see, my husband works on salary, which means, you work until your done. You don't get the luxury of just clocking out when you've served your eight hours. This was the major conflict for the first several months of our first year together. Dinner would be ready, I would be ready, the house would be ready, but without fail, at 6:30 instead of my man being home, I would get a phone call. Did I mention, I like to yell? And sulk?

Slowly I began to realize these stringent ideas and beliefs I had weren't conducive to my well-being, and certainly not for my husband's well-being. I was striving for some sense of perfection. What got me to see I was drowning were the two pink lines. For weeks I felt like my body was full of lead, I couldn't move, and I couldn't stay awake. Shortly after Mothers Day, I got the news, I was now a Mommy too. Because of the pregnancy, I couldn't do everything I thought I needed to do. The house began to get messy, the laundry piled up, so did the dishes. My husband had to relinquish the roles he thought we were both meant to fulfill, him going off to work all day, me staying home, being the dutiful housewife. My sweet man had to take up both roles. He would go to work all day, then come home with dinner and do the dishes or a load of laundry. How unfair for him. I hated it. I resented it and I felt so incredibly guilty that I wasn't a good wife.

As soon as I was able to function (after the first three months), I began to tackle the role of wife, again. However, I would let little things slide. I wasn't scrubbing the house down everyday, I'd let the clothes accumulate until we had no more clean undies, but at least I was cooking dinner again, and packing his lunch. I thought that somehow, after Ava was born, it would be different, I just had to get back into the swing of things. The house would be cleaner, the clothes washed, folded and put away and there would never, ever be more then two dirty dishes in the sink at a given time. (Yes, please feel free to laugh, as I write this I realize how stupid I really was). But, I tried. I tried with all I had to make everything perfect. I tried to do everything, all by myself with an infant that I was determined to not get in my way.

My daughter witnessed me mentally break down. We were in the kitchen, she in her bouncy and I in front of the stove trying to do it all, while she screamed and cried because all she wanted was mommy, and all mommy wanted was to do everything, which meant not having her daughter need her. She screamed and cried, I screamed and cried and my most precious gift in the world was terrified, she was terrified of me. As I looked in her wide, tear flooded eyes, I...I finally got it. Through all the shame, pride, guilt, and sorrow, I got it. My only job is to take care of my family, my husband, my children. The people God has created for me, and me for them. That is my only calling; not scrubbing the kitchen floor, not having a three course dinner on the table waiting for my husband. My job is to hold my daughter when she needs me.

I hate that it took me so long to understand what it means to be a housewife, I hate that I didn't learn the lesson sooner, when I was pregnant. And after I had posted a blog of my shame and failure as a mommy, my friend Laurie, gave me such beautiful words of advice and encouragement. I will always treasure them.

So, I sat down and thought hard about how I was going to continue to care for my family, first, then the house. How can I try to combine the two in a way that I am not overwhelmed and that my children can have my full attention when they need it? I made a list, and a chart. I love making lists!! I think that might be the teacher in me, the part who loves office supplies and making even the simplest task into a project. I broke down the five day work week into separate days, each day I would do "two" chores and lined them up so I have variety and flow. This is what I came up with:

Monday: Bedrooms & ALL laundry
Tuesday: Kitchen & ALL sweeping
Wednesday: Bathroom & ALL moping
Thursday: Front room & ALL dusting
Friday: Dining room & ALL vacuuming

Well, it's Monday and yes, there is a load of laundry in the wash, and another one in line. I couldn't get to the kids' room before Ava's morning nap so I'll move on to our room and hopefully I can get it done, or mostly done before we have to leave for an appointment this afternoon. I pray that I can keep up with this new plan, well, it's not so new. I wrote it when I was first pregnant with Baxter and am now just beginning to tackle it, so, we'll see how it goes but for now, I have a diaper to change and an infant to feed.

When Your Husband is Sneaking Around on the Internet...

You don't expect him to be setting up a Facebook page for you.

I'm still not totally convinced that I wanted one...

It's Like AA

I've quickly realized that having two little ones (17 months old and 17 days old), I must take things one day at a time. One long, long day at a time. I must admit, however, that things aren't as bad as I had previously thought they would be. I found that I can easily lug both kids up and down the stairs at the same time without dropping either them or my mocha's. Ava even seems born to be a big sister, running to Baxter's side when he cries, giving him his binkie or her blankies (she doesn't even let mommy cuddle with her blankies!)

There are several things I have had to rethink how I do them. Baxter's like his big sister in that when she was itty bitty, all she wanted was to be held and cuddled. Ava wouldn't fall asleep during the day unless we both laid on the couch and cuddled together. This posed a little problem because when I lay down with Baxter, Ava needs to be cuddled with too, and my couch is on the small side, but Ava has managed to find a little nook for herself in the crook of my knees. Another major snag is feeding time. Baxter hasn't gained weight, he's gained length, but not pounds and ounces. After his Doctor appointment, we were sent to see a lactation consultant. If after going through the whole pregnancy, labor and delivery thing, you still clung onto some modesty, you can pretty much kiss it goodbye when you see a lactation consultant. She said everything looked good, gave me some pointers and said she knew what the problem was: I was too busy. My hands are too full with chasing Ava around to take the time necessary for Baxter to get his two ounces each feeding in order for him to gain weight. I might have to trap Ava in her room behind the baby gate.

I think one of the last big changes I've had to make was in my cleaning and cooking schedule. I used to clean up the house while Ava slept, but now it seems like the best time to pick up is after dinner and make Aaron's lunch before I go to bed, instead of in the morning. There isn't really much for me to complain about, I think that if I didn't have the major headache I get postpartum which lasts for about 6 weeks straight, I could handle this new life with a touch more grace then I currently am. But, really, I love it. I love being a mom and my kids are so amazing!

The Guilt Still Lingers

At first, all I could think of was how fun babies are, how easy it was for me to give birth. I wanted another baby. It didn't take long before we were pregnant and at first, I was in a kind of float-y, sparkl-y daze. I was feeling like I had finally achieved adulthood (and it only took me 30 years).
But then, I looked at my daughter. Really looked at her and waited in the moment we were sharing, enjoying every slow second of it, lingering in her laughter and as quickly as the moment between mother and daughter came; the heavy guilt sunk in. From that moment on I became more aware of the reality that I would no longer be all Ava's. I tried to justify my selfishness in wanting another child by telling myself I was doing it for her, I was giving Ava a sibling, a playmate, a best friend. It seemed that the more I repeated this to myself, the bigger my guilt grew. I had now taken the one on one intimacy I shared with my baby girl and replaced it with only fifty percent of what it was. I asked almost every mom I knew with more then one kid how they felt when they had another child. All just smiled and said: 'You're doing them a favor. You're giving them a friend to play with and you a chance to breath while they play together and not need all your time.'

This did not help. I felt even more guilt and emotion because I just could not see it that way. I had given up. It wasn't until I was getting my haircut, my stylist had two kids and recently found out she was pregnant with twins. She knew I had Ava and we started talking about due dates and names when all of a sudden she looked at me and asked if I felt guilty for taking part of me away from Ava and sharing it with another baby. She understood, she felt the same way when she had her second child, and even more so now that she was having twins.

I LOVE my children, both of them. I am slowly adjusting to splitting myself between two kids instead of giving myself to one. It is more difficult then I could have ever imagined. I sometimes look at Ava and see her as someone I have to protect Baxter from, and it seems all we've said to her since we came home from the hospital was "Ava, NO!" It's those moments where she is transformed from being my baby girl to a danger. I hate that, it breaks my heart to see her as someone other then my itty bitty. Aaron and I both make more of an effort to hug and love on Mava. I try to continue to have our morning cuddle time, but it just doesn't seem like it's enough. I'm hoping it will get easier.

The Dress

I know Easter was a while ago, but it took me this long to get the photos off my camera in preparation for the impending birth of our son (Monday!!!). I originally got the inspiration to make Ava's Easter dress from my sister, she usually makes her daughters Easter dresses, so I thought, "hey, I can do that too!" So, I did.

I found the sweetest butterfly linen fabric and a simple dress pattern in which I altered, adding dainty eyelet for the yoke and white linen for subtle sleeve ruffles. I also added long pink and purple ribbon in the back for a mock belt, which I knew would be Mava's favorite part of the dress! The whole dress was a very simple project, however, I found the lining to be quite bothersome. I have a fairly large collection of buttons, but I still couldn't find just the right ones until our friends sent Ava a birthday invitation with several buttons glued on; two of which were the perfect pearlescent pink.

A Different Kind of Nest

Perhaps its just laziness on my part, but when I was in my last trimester, awaiting Ava's arrival, I was also awaiting the arrival of that "nesting" urge to kick in. My mom had even asked Aaron if he noticed it kicking in. He thought for a moment, then simply said, "Well, she's getting a massage and pedicure and has a hair appointment, so I guess she is nesting."

Don't get me wrong, I did try and keep the house clean and the freezer stocked knowing that I HAD to get those things done. I HAD to make sure things were in order, but I didn't WANT to. I didn't have the strange, strong urge to scrub the house, cook casseroles to freeze, and stock the pantry. I did what I could force myself to do and left the rest for my husband to deal with. And as I struggled to sweep and mop the kitchen floor yesterday, I received a very pleasant phone call. The receptionist from the spa where I get my prenatal massages called to remind me of my massage and pedicure appointment for Saturday.

This pregnancy has been a little harder then the first one, I blame Ava. I think she's going through her "terrible two's" already. I know that it's just her struggle and frustration at wanting, at needing to do things independently, trying to ignore her obvious limitations (she's only 15 months!). However, she dose have the longest reach of any kid I've ever seen. She can easily out reach a two year old by a foot when something on the kitchen table has caught her eye. Ava also really likes to help. She helps by destroying the house as mommy tries to clean it. She probably thinks she is doing me a favor by making sure I always have something to do. Although, yesterday, I had left two of her diapers in the front room after her nap diaper change. She quietly picked them up and started off towards her room. "Ava! No! Icky!" I called after her, this just made her run, not walk to her room. After a minute she came back out, and I went in, searching for her diapers. I found them. Right where they belonged. In her dirty diaper pail. She was helping mommy. She did good. We danced. We jumped. We clapped. "Good girl baby!!!"

Then I cried.

Ava's Monster..er, I Mean, Josiah's Monster

I guess this is what you would call a "crafted project". It's designed to take an hour or so, however, with a one year old and an Easter dress in the mix, it took quite a bit longer.

I should have known making this monster in front of Ava would cause problems...

So, I had to make two...

I thought I had solved the problem...

Then I told her one belonged to Josiah...

She was not amused.

The Housewife's Uniform

It has been a little over two years since I have embraced the Housewife's uniform. The apron, that is. It has been a staple in our home since we were married, actually, I have always had an apron hanging around even before I was married. The first one I was given, was a white half apron with grey kitten print, hollies and Christmas bells. It belonged to my late great grandma, Margie. There had always been something charming and nostalgic about them. To me, aprons meant warmth, freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, lavender Pine Sol and the comfort only mom could surround you with. They, as cheesy at it might sound, symbolize love.

On those ominous house cleaning days, with my trusty yoga pants, a less Ava dirtied shirt, my favorite lemon print half apron, I begin to tie my sneakers as Ava toddles up to me. She knows what this uniform means. She knows mommy is getting down to business. So, Ava gets down to business. She then precedes to disperse all her toys, clothes and yes, even dirty diapers out of her diaper pail throughout the house. And, not to mention, her crackers she steps on and crushes into the carpet, just for fun.

Since my fascination with aprons, and the fact that after a year of contemplating buying a sewing machine, I finally broke down and had my husband buy me one, a Singer. It is the prettiest sewing machine I have ever seen. I hadn't sewn for over a decade since I took several sewing classes in college. What finally pushed me to the realization that yes, in fact I needed a machine was Ava's hand stitched Pilgrim dress for her Thanksgiving photos. I LOVED sewing her little dress and I know as a housewife and mommy, there will be countless school plays and recitals in which I will need to sew costumes for.

My first project was an apron for my niece Moriah's 13th birthday, I unfortunately didn't get enough pictures of. The front of the apron consisted of purple gingham, an iPod mini pocket and a larger pocket with her name hand stitched on it in pale purple thread. Purple is both of our favorite color so I had a ton of fun making this apron.

My second apron was for my friend Caroline. I had bought an apron book and flipping through it she fell in love with this cocktail number. The fabric in the book was a gold brocade pattern with flowers. She loves cheetah print and I had luckily found the same exact fabric as the sample, but in the print she wanted. This apron is able to be worn on both sides, with black sheer fabric covering one of the sides and the same little pocket with a tailored bow on each side of the apron. I had fun making the little bows and I am very, very happy how this apron came out. I almost didn't want to give it to her, but keep it for myself.

The most recent apron I made was for our friend, Jessie. Jessie and Jason Hall have been friends of ours for quite some time, they've been married for about a year now and there son, Josiah is about to turn one. When we were over for dinner, I brought Jessie this apron and Aaron brought Jason a six pack of refreshing beverages. I thought the black buttons would fit her style, and the black ribbon edging complement it nicely.

The next apron I want to make is for another friend of ours. She recently had a baby boy and is now a housewife, learning things for the first time that a lot of us were raised doing. I know how hard and frustrating it is at times to be at home, all day taking care of a baby and the home. So, I wanted to do something that might, I don't know, help solidify her calling and hopefully make her smile. I think her favorite color is green and I absolutely love that green snake print fabric, so I think I'm going to do something with that and maybe ribbon, I love ribbon. I'm not sure yet. I just need to wait until I finish Ava's Easter dress and Josiah's pirate monster for his birthday. I sure hope his monster turns out. It looks good in my head but getting it from my head to reality, might not work.

Warning:

Keep hands and feet away from playpen at all times...

I Feel Shame, or Pride

It can be viewed as either a "down side" or "up side" of studying English in College, having to continually "keep" journals. I saw it as both. At the beginning of the semester, I would wallow at the thought of having to do yet another journal, with each professor believing its their own original idea. Part way through the assignment, I would find myself enjoying it, then a month or so would pass and I was right back to wallowing. After all, journaling is just another way to linger in the self loathing that is my mind. Why on earth would I want to actually put words to the numerous mangled thoughts flowing in and out of my head, and who on earth would want to read that crap? I wouldn't. But for some unexplained reason, I have kept my journals. All of them laced with various quotes that I have been unsuccessful at forgetting. One in particular has cemented itself in the far recesses of my thoughts. It was from an Ethics in Education class I took back at Butte some twelve years ago.

John F. Covaleskie wrote: I feel shame or pride for what I know about myself, not what others know about me.

We can spend our whole life putting on a false self, one that looks good, holy, pretty, humble and wise. One that is heroic and brave, yet compassionate and thoughtful. So when people who think they know us, look at who they see and go: My god, how amazing are they! Look at how they work so hard, how much time and money they volunteer! Even their children are so respectful and well managed! But, as nice as those hollow accolades are at first, they fade the moment you remember who you really are. How you secretly cheated a co-worker, or your taxes. How hard you try to hide your hidden sins so that you seem to justify both there existence and there absence. Those small moments that creep in when our guard is down, that's when we truly feel shame for who we are, even when the world sees differently.

Conversely, when you go about your day, trying to do what's best for your family, its those little victories, those quiet little accomplishments that you achieve when no one is around to cheer for you, that's when we are filled with a humbled pride that cannot be tarnished. The kind of pride from doing what is expected of us and striving towards the ultimate goal of glorifying God. But, perhaps pride, might be the wrong word. It's more of a reassurance from God that we are receiving, that quiet "good job, faithful servant. You're on the right path."

We can hide from others, we can more successfully hide from ourselves but it is foolish to think we can hide from God. Our secret, hidden sins are spread out before Him, He saw them even before He created us and time itself. I think if we are truly honest with ourselves we can better grasp who we are and ultimately, who we ought to be.

Our Son, Baxter

Today's experience at North State Imaging was far better then our trip last year. It was our ultrasound appointment. When we went to see Ava at twenty weeks, I stupidly followed the directions on the handout perfectly. What I didn't realize was A) my bladder seemed to be forty times smaller then the average bladder and B) the office was going to be over 45 minutes behind schedule. I truly thought I was going to pee all over their carpet and I wouldn't have felt bad at all since the office staff were so incredibly rude. However, once inside the room, our technician was so amazing it almost made up for the crap we went through just to see our daughter. With this in mind, I was very hesitant as I was preparing for today's appointment. Aaron and I decided that I would drink only half of the full quart I was meant to drink and not worry about finishing the water an hour before the exam. I continued sipping as we drove to the office building. We crowded into the small room, Aaron, Ava, me and my Mom. I got the best spot, stretched out on a bed. I was more relaxed and the technician was able to take her time and look at our baby very closely. At first, in her soft South African accent, she said the baby could very well be another girl, it wasn't until the end when the baby shifted perfectly and the technician said: oh, wow, can you guess what that is?

Lets just say, it's bigger then I thought it would be.