Finally, one to snuggle

Abby never earned a reputation for being a snuggly baby. The more we held and rocked her, the more she squirmed. At bedtime, she was all business and would cry in protest if we threatened to linger too long before putting her down to sleep. The oh-so-comfortable rocker in the pink and green nursery was good for storytime and feeding time but little else.

When Caleb came along, the rocker moved into its new home in the blue nursery. But alas, even there it was seldom put to use. He was an efficient eater, and the time I got to spend feeding him as I rocked in that little chair usually lasted little more than 15 minutes before he was finished or his big sister required my attention on some matter that seemed pressing to a 1-year-old.

But while Abby never let me and with Caleb I felt I never had time, my third child is working to fill in the gaps on my baby snuggling. Always warm, and always cuddly, Jacob is perfect to snuggle. When he's awake, there's nowhere he'd rather be than cuddled up next to someone. And when he's tired, he sleeps, no matter if it's in my arms or tucked in his crib. Bedtime routines can get crazy around here, but every once in a while I find a way to tune out the madness of toddler bathtime and just enjoy my baby boy (much to my husband's chagrin, I'm sure).

And it's moments like these that I actually feel like I could spend a lifetime in that rocker with my little guy curled up to my chest like this, if only he'd stay little, and if only he'd let me.

The only way

Sometimes when I explain things to my children, I make the gospel more complicated than it really is. Thankfully I've got these kids to simplify things for me, and to remind me that teachable moments don't have to be scripted and planned. Often the most teachable moments happen when we're right in the middle of doing something else, like playing chase, or reading quietly to ourselves.

Caleb: I'm going to heaven on a truck!

Abby: No Caleb, you can't go to heaven on a truck. Jesus is the only way to get to heaven.

Caleb: I'm going to heaven on a bus!

Abby: No Caleb, Jesus is the only way to get to heaven.

Caleb: I'm going to heaven on a ship!

Pause.

Abby: Mommy, can we go to heaven on a ship?

Me: No sweetie, you were right. Jesus is the only way to get to heaven.

Pause.

Abby: Caleb, you can't go to heaven on a ship. Jesus is the only way to get to heaven.

And later, Abby composed this song, which I transcribed for posterity as she danced through the kitchen singing to herself:

God made the world

The Lord made everything in the world

He made books to read

He made airplanes to fly

He made a ship to float

He made something else

Lots of things

The Lord He made a road for us to go up to heaven

Dump trucks and buses

He made them

He made everything

He made a bicycle for us to ride

He made wagons

He made ships

He made a rider and the wheels

He made fire and firetrucks

And then he made an ice cream car

And Caleb likes the blue and Jacob likes the green and I like the pink

And He made the truck and He made the driver too

And then he made another thing of the Lord

The end

Losing steam

I'll admit it. As headmaster of the School of Mommy, I'm losing steam. It's too beautiful outside, and crafting the lowercase letters of the alphabet just isn't as appealing in the warmth of spring as it was in the dead of winter.

So this week, we took it easy. We read. A lot. We got back into our ABC Bible verse book, and had some great discussion about how living out the verse "Children obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right" isn't always that simple. We talked about how Abby and Caleb need Jesus in order to obey Mommy and Daddy, and how even Mommy and Daddy have to obey God. This seemed to pique their interest. We talked about obeying Right Away, All the Way, and With a Happy Heart. (Special thanks to Marissa for planting little nugget of parenting wisdom in my brain almost four years ago.) All this discussion took place as Abby perused her new highly organized bookshelves for some reading material that focused on something other than obedience.

We repeated a craft (gasp!) because I was out of ideas, and because the last time we turned the letter C into a caterpillar, it was a huge hit. Also, the last time we turned the letter C into a caterpillar was about a week after Abby turned 2, so I was hoping she wouldn't remember. She did. I explained that our last letter C caterpillar was uppercase, and this one was lowercase.

"I guess that's okay then, Mommy," she replied.

Thanks Abby.

And to further drive home the point that I was preschooled-out this week, we wrapped up the School of Mommy by acting out things that begin with C. We clucked like chickens. We acted clumsy. We clapped. And much to Caleb's chagrin, we all jumped into Abby's bed and cuddled.

I predict our quality of preschool education is going to continue to drop off for as long as the temperatures continue to rise.

Desperate times

So what if the cup is bigger than his face?

If he's going to keep going on these hunger strikes, we're going to pump food and water into our little guy by whatever means happen to work best at the moment. And drinking all of daddy's water at dinnertime sure beats the hour I spent feeding him six ounces of formula on a spoon.

In other news, I'm ignoring the recommendation of my pediatrician and my GI specialist to hold off on solid foods until Jacob's stomach matures. This kid wants to eat. And if my milk smelled as bad as what I'm putting in his bottle, I'd be rejecting it too. Rice cereal and oatmeal have been a huge hit. I see some squash puree and mashed sweet potatoes in his future.

Unstoppable

Abby's reached a new level of confidence on her little bike, and it's a bit terrifying, to say the least. She managed to successfully complete about 20 good runs down a driveway that slopes just enough to help her get going a little faster than I'd prefer. But it was only a matter of time before this happened...

After gently reassuring her that, no, we did not need to call an ambulance, and no, we were not going to go to the hospital to let a doctor look at her minor abrasion, I cleaned her up, applied an enormous bandage to her tiny elbow and handed her back her bike. She hesitated only briefly, then hiked her leg up over the seat and took off for a few loops around the cul-de-sac.

That's my girl.

Plumbing problem

When Justin asked Caleb if he wanted to help Daddy install the new sink fixture, I don't think tearing the styrofoam packing materials into a million tiny pieces was what he meant.

We're finding you have to be very specific with two-year-old boys.

Sleepyhead

Dear Jacob,

You can count on me, little one. When Mommy makes a promise, she keeps it. And when I told you that soon you'd have a real crib of your very own to sleep in, I meant it.

Sweet dreams, sleepyhead. I'm going to tuck that little foot back in, just like I do every night, and let you get some rest now. But first I'll kiss your forehead, and whisper to you just how much I love you, and remind you that you're my favorite Jacob in the whole wide world, just like I do every night. And just like always, I'll lay my hand on your chest and thank the Lord again for bringing you into my world, and for letting me keep you for a little while, and I'll ask Him to watch over you as you sleep, and to work in your tiny heart even now so that one day you'll call Him Savior.

Because I'm not always going to get it right, little one. In fact, most times I'm going to screw up pretty badly. But the God I sing about while I'm feeding you your bottle, and the Jesus we talk about during the day, and the Spirit that watches over you when I'm not there...they are the ones you can really count on.

You can trust me on that one, little Jacob.

Love,

Mommy

My special day

I faintly remember a time when my birthday was all about me. These days, it's all about keeping my kids' fingers off of the candles and out of my ice cream cake.

At least they still let me open my own presents.

...and the others, gold

Long before we were this...

March 2011

Abby Jean (3.5), Abby Mae (3.25)

We were this...

February 2008

Abby Jean (6 months), Abby Mae (3 months)

I guess that trip to see Rockncerous in concert on that chilly February day three years ago was technically our first play date. It would not be our last.

We didn't know back then just how close our girls would become. We didn't know they'd be best friends in spite of the dramatically different personalities they would grow into.

We didn't know back then that we each would very soon find ourselves pregnant again, or that our little boys would be born just three weeks apart.

And I didn't know just how much I would come to love my new dear friend and sister. I didn't know how we would rely on each other for babysitting emergencies ranging from doctors appointments to messy houses. I didn't know she would be the first person I would call when I suffered heartache or just needed someone to enjoy a beautiful day with.

I didn't know how rare it is, or what a blessing it would be to have someone walking in my exact same footsteps at the exact same time (and with kids on the exact same nap schedule). We could not be more different, and I still haven't forgiven her for that time she tried to get me to exercise with her (even though technically it was just a very long walk to get barbecue). But God has richly blessed me with her friendship, and I am grateful for the times our families spend together. (Especially MeatFest.)

Here's to many more years of co-parenting, early morning phone calls and crazy adventures.

Sweet dreams

When they bought this pack-n-play for us almost four years ago, my coworkers at the time could not have known just how useful it would be. It has been our most utilized piece of baby equipment, and many a child of mine would have been at a loss without it.

It was Abby's first bed when we welcomed her into our family. For three weeks, she called this little portable bed home while her crib sat in storage. We knew we'd be moving shortly after her arrival, and it seemed silly to set up a nursery for such a short period of time.

It was Caleb's bed whenever we had overnight guests that needed to use his room for their own sleepy kids. It fit perfectly into my closet, and he slept soundly in those cramped quarters with all my clothes hanging above him.

And it has served Jacob well for his first five months of life, first in my closet before being upgraded to a corner of the guest room. The mattress pad is beginning to sag, and the tiny bears on his mobile often go missing at the hands of his older siblings. But he sleeps like a charm here, and has never known any different.

He'll have a crib and a room of his own soon enough. But I think I'm going to miss these pack-n-play days a little.