Sunday, May 29, 2011

I Told You So.

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See these two?


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I told you I was a lucky woman.

Friday, May 27, 2011

And Baby Makes Four...

I have heard many, many parents, upon the anticipation of their second child, wonder if they could ever love another child as much as their first.

While I think this is a completely normal and rational worry {that always ends up to be for naught}... It has never even crossed my mind.

I feel like I have SO much love in my heart that I could never stop loving my family madly and deeply and equally, no matter how it grew or changed.

I could adopt a child and love him or her just as completely and passionately as one knit in my womb.

I love my "little sister" from Big Brothers, Big Sisters like a real sister, or maybe even more like a daughter.

My family is my family, no matter when or how they arrive.

I look at Skip and my cup runneth over.

I look at Kherington and my heart swells up so I think it might burst.

I feel an unborn child squirm inside me and I well up with tears of joy and gratitude, for I already love her unconditionally.

God blessed me with a big heart.  I might be sensitive and emotional, but I'll be loving my family like crazy until the end of time.

All because God first loved us.

Agape...

Monday, May 23, 2011

From My Front Porch...

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I reckon we need a little practice with the finger painting.


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We didn't agree that the paint should be on the paper.


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And we certainly didn't agree that we shouldn't splash around in the entire bowl of paint.


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But we did agree...


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On the post-paint bath!

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Thursday, May 19, 2011

Weaning & Weeping

The thought of weaning makes me feel like weeping.

Well, lots of things make me weepy these days.  Stupid hormones.

But I just nursed my daughter in the twilight... her long, less chubby body curled around my belly while her baby sister thumped from my womb. The chair rocked and both of us seemed to linger, in bliss.

It was beautiful.

It always is.

But today was the last time I will nurse her twice in one day.  After our weekend away, we will go to only once a day.  That will last a few weeks, and then we will really wean.

It makes me sad.  Kherington certainly doesn't want to stop. She doesn't need it, but she enjoys it.

But I believe it is the right time for us. For both of us, and for this baby I'm nourishing in another manner.

16-17 months exceeded my expectations and I am proud of us.  It wasn't always easy... sore nipples, a thrush infection from hell, being a slave to the pump, leaking at the worst possible times, and painful biting that led to bleeding. 

But I wouldn't change a single second of it.

I cherished those private moments with the baby I so longed for.  I celebrate my body for all that it can do. I thank God for the opportunity to nurse, and even to share my milk with another baby in need.

When I feel weepy, I try to remind myself that this will only leave me a 3-4 month hiatus from being an all-day-buffet, and then I begin all over again!

Bonding with another wee babe. Nourishing a child to health (and adorable chubbiness!) with only the gifts God has given me.  I look forward to it.

But if I feel this emotional about weaning my firstborn... just imagine what a mess I'll be when I wean my lastborn.  He or she might be 12 by the time I bring myself to do it!

Kidding!

Sort of.

Monday, May 16, 2011

A Day to Forget

It was a rainy morning that turned into a beautiful Texas day. We spent the afternoon and evening on the golf course. By evening, we were all exhausted.

We threw our bags in the car and loaded Kherington in her car seat. We remote-started my Tahoe and tossed the keys on the front seat. Then we closed the back doors… the doors that automatically lock when you use the remote start.

Our 15 month old was locked in the car.

I looked through the window at the keys on the seat and toward the diaper bag that held the spare set. I looked at our daughter, securely fastened in her seat.

I laughed, like I didn’t really believe it. Then I got a little hormonal and panicky. And then I realized that the car was running and Kherington was happily munching on a snack and drinking her water.

We called a few locksmiths and they were 40 minutes away. It dawned on us that the car would soon shut off. So we called the police.

Mama Bear and Papa Bear stood ready to break a window or even claw through it if need be. But even when the car turned off, the evening was cool. Kherington sat in her car seat making faces at me and laughing. She was in no immediate danger.

I tried to relax. Kherington and I interacted through the glass during the longest ten minutes of my life.

And then we heard them.

Sirens.

A huge, bright red fire truck came screaming down the busy street and into the parking lot that was crowded with people we know.

My face turned as red as the truck. I thought I would die of embarrassment.

No such luck.

Four handsome firemen hopped out to save the day.

They looked nervous when they saw a pregnant mama… but relaxed when they took in my nervous laughter and Kherington’s smile.

They decided to wait on a locksmith since she wasn’t in danger. Apparently they have one on speed dial.

They hung around chatting like old chums, when they seemed to notice the calm-if-somewhat guilty-feeling Dad.

“Is that yours?” one of them asked Skip, gesturing to the car.

“The Tahoe? It’s hers.” He answered.

“But the baby, that’s his.” I squeak like a stupid schoolgirl.

Amid my nervous giggles, a stern looking police officer showed up…. just in case it wasn’t already a complete circus act.

People gawked at us from their vehicles. And let’s not forget that my full name is plastered across the back windshield for all curious onlookers.

For a minute I wondered if I was about to be arrested, get a ticket, even have my kid taken away. He looked mean.

But he assured us that this happens all the time and suggested hiding a valet key somewhere on the vehicle.

I made awful, nervous conversation. Skip appeared cool and relaxed.

Uncle Landon laughs and points from his car and threatens to take video.

Harper keeps saying “Kerry-tin is locked in the car!” and I flash to the hundreds of people she will tell.

For another ten minutes Kherington blows kisses and waves at the handsome firemen and they flirt right back. She was having the time of her life with so much attention.

And finally Pop-a-Lock showed up. He acts like he does this every day, saving small children, and pops open the doors in less than a minute.

We surged in to hug and kiss a baby that had no idea anything was amiss.

We thanked our six knights in shining armor and felt grateful as they all drove away without handcuffs, tickets, a call from CPS, or even a bill to pay.

Parents of the year?

That’d be us.

Now I just regret not getting a photo of Kherington with her heroes.  Now that'd be one for the baby book.

Thursday, May 5, 2011

From My House To Yours

A letter for my mother.


Dear Mom,

There is a path from my house to yours, grass worn down by bare feet and paw prints.



It leads from my porch, through the oleander, over the trampoline, past the bird cage, and to your welcoming back door.


For the love in both of our homes has overflowed into the other.


Mom, I was always so fortunate to be your daughter. Then I was blessed to be called your friend. And for these past couple of years, I have cherished being your neighbor.


We held each other when babies and parents were lost. We hosted celebration dinners when good news was shared. We rocked comfortably in the quiet moments on the porch at sundown.


We laughed at livestock on the loose and reaped the rewards of our garden. We pontificated in the hot tub and pet dirty puppies. We prayed and we partied.


You made a best friend for life when Kherington was born. I have no doubt that some of her spark and zest comes from you. It is such a joy sharing my daughter with you.


I’ve built my own little family on this ranch, just 80 yards from the people that taught me what family is all about.


And though the boxes have been packed, these moments will always live in my heart. I know we will always be close. I know you are giving us room to fly.


But you’ll be here. And we’ll be there.


And there will always be a path from my house to yours.


Happy Mother's Day.

I love you, Chelsea

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Dear Baby

Dear Baby Sister,


That's right! This morning we learned you are another sweet baby girl.


We are overjoyed! Elated! Eager!


It is so nice to be able to call you by name, to envision your future self.  Your sweet name rolls off of my tongue and washes over my belly.  Over and around you.


I love having you this close to me. Your movements give me a sense of magic and wonder. I already feel our bond... our hearts racing along together amidst the woosh of blood and life-giving sounds.


We're in this together, you and I.


But when you arrive, you won't believe how lucky you are. You are going to have the coolest big sister and the most amazing Daddy.  So many people already love you. 


I feel like I already know you, too.  But of course that fun part is still to come. For the rest of our lives! I get to marvel at the creation that is purely you.

I can't wait to see how you and your sister are alike. And how you differ. How your own personality shines through, uniquely yours.


So much awaits us, baby girl!  But I'm not going to rush it. Because I cherish this part, just you and I. Mother and daughter. We are letting God perform His work. His miracle. Everything has its season.  And this is ours.


You are going to bring more joy and laughter and love to a home that is already overflowing with these blessings. Life just doesn't get any better than that. 

And you won't believe how heartbreakingly beautiful life is.

There are so many things I will show you!  

So many spectacular books and poets, songwriters, artists, thinkers, dancers. So many things for us to experience... foods, horseback riding, rainbows, different cultures around the world.

So many things people have fought for and died for… flowered pastures we can run laughing into the heart of and star strewn Texas skies we can dream under.

All of us.

You, your daddy, your sister and me.


I love you already, Mama



Sunday, May 1, 2011

Place Your Bets!

Okay, hopefully this is your last chance to vote boy or girl! Brother or Sister!

I keep getting these questions...

Sickness- I'd say it was slightly worse than last time. But... I wasn't doing acupuncture this time.

Cravings- Last time I craved sweet and juicy, especially canned fruit.  This time I'm craving salty and comfort foods, especially pizza.  {Pizza should be this kid's middle name.}  But... I'm the type of person that could eat pizza and sweets everyday for the rest of my life.

Weight Gain- Same as last time, slow and easy. But... that could change if the pizza keeps up!

His Weigth Gain- They say if Daddy gains weight too, it is a girl. And if not, boy.  He gained weight last time.  But... this time he seems to be losing!

Carriage- Last time I carried small and right out in front. This time seems to be a bit lower, which they say means boy.  But... maybe it is just too soon to tell.

Heartbeat- They say below 140 is boy and above is girl.  Kherington was always 160-185. This one has been 140-155.  But... science says this method is a load of crap.

Chinese Birth Chart- Last time it said girl. This time it says girl. But... these things are stupid.

Old Wives Tales- They say a girl takes away beauty and a boy gives beauty.  But... last time I felt more beautiful than ever and this time, less so.

My Gut- I guess boy.  But... I thought boy last time, too!

So... go ahead, make your prediction.

What? Did I scare you away with this post?  I didn't say you couldn't have an opinion.  I said you better not imply that either sex would be a bummer!

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