On a half birthday

Yesterday my sweet little Lily celebrated her first half birthday. To celebrate those six months, I'm going to share my six favorite things about her:

She isn't stingy with her smiles; she gives them freely and often.

Her big blue eyes (her daddy's eyes).  I love the way they twinkle, and how she always has them wide open, eyebrows raised, taking in everything around her.

The way she reaches for me when she just needs her Mama.

Those itty bitty feet.

She is a very busy baby! She's always reaching, wiggling, scooting, rolling, rocking and finding ways to keeps us on our toes.

How she has brought so much extra love into our house.

On providing a shelter

I didn't tell my children what happened in Newtown.  I hid that. I bore it by myself.  How could I ask them to carry the weight of the knowledge that those atrocities had happened to people their age, the ages of their friends.  How could I ask them to reconcile their idealistic views with the reality of the fallen and broken world around them?  I wanted them to live in a world where schools are safe, and evil exists only in fairy tales (and even then, good always triumphs) for a just a little bit longer.
But the truth is, they don't live in that world.  I wondered if I was doing them a disservice by shielding them.  And I realized last night, that they would go to school, and hear about the tragedies.  And I wanted to be the first one to squeeze them and tell them it would be ok.  I needed to be there for them when they found out.  So I quietly told them.  And my son's eyes welled up, but he didn't let them spill.  And my daughter said "Who would do such a thing?" and I didn't have an answer.  I could only hold them tight and tell them I love them.

On the Election according to Leaves

Me: If you could vote in this election, who would you vote for?
Levi: I wish I could write your name down.
Me: Really???
Levi: Yea, living in the White House would be sweeeet! But by the time I'm 18, you'll be old.
Me: Ugh!
Levi: Uuuhhh...I mean you are 25.  You will always be 25.  Your moods might change, but your age always stays the same.

I flipping love that kid!

On a mother's wise words

Lily and I were watching the last episode of Parks and Recreation, in which Leslie Knope decides to get a perm.

Me: Your mom had a perm.
Lily: (sucking a pacifer very judgmentally)
Me: What? It was the eighth grade!
Lily: (continuing to suck and judge)
Me: You will probably have weird hair in the eighth grade, too.  You will think you know things, but you won't.
Lily: (still sucking, but I could tell she was really thinking about what I said and vowing to listen to me and value my words and advice even when she's in the eighth grade)

On a name change

Did you notice? I don't just have Leaves and Bugs anymore, there has been an addition...

On one of the best gifts I was ever given

My Senior year of high school I was editor of the school paper, and making straight A's in everything from AP Calculus to my fourth year of French. So my generous father allowed me to enroll in one "easy" class. I chose Clothing Design. It was in that easy class that I learned the basics of threading a bobbin, sewing a straight seam, and following a pattern. I loved it and actually wore the things I made. For my 18th birthday, my parents bought me my very own sewing machine and a gift card to buy some fabric and a pattern. Although I hate to admit it, that was over 13 years ago. And I am still using the same machine (I don't think they paid more than $100 for it). With that machine I have dressed my windows and my children. I have turned Leaves and Bugs into a dinosaur and a butterfly and a princess and even Luke and Leia Skywalker. I've made Christmas gifts and covered pillows and I even made my dog a Miami Dolphins hoodie. I've turned sketches and ideas into real-life, tangible objects. What my parents gave me was a tool to create. They didn't give me something that would be used up, but something that would be used to make new things: a perpetual making machine.

On some of the sweetest words

Cora: I could snuggle you all day, without breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

Seriously, does life get any better? Her wild brother joined in and we had a quiet little moment Sunday morning. One moment like that gives purpose to everything else I do. I will never love doing the dishes or putting away laundry. I will never mark the day I clean the toilet with a smiley face on my calendar. But I can find joy and contentment in doing those things for my loves.

On the good things in life

My life is made good by the little moments

the closeness of my children and the nonsense we whisper in the early minutes before we're late for anything

the weight and warmth of the Bug in my lap, the softness of the yarn, the smoothness of the needles

laying in the floor with my Leaves, making anything we imagine with tiny interlocking bricks

the sound of singing from the shower

the sound of a light saber always

fingers in the flour and sugar, sampling each ingredient as it is made into something altogether different

soft curly hair sliding through my fingers into long braids

a nose being wiggled against mine

tiny popsicle toes tucked between my feet to warm them

love.

On the Best of the Bug

These are some of the reasons I think Cora is great:

She likes to curl up in my lap and knit.

She named her stuffed elephant "Fallulah Jones."

She is a strong little girl, handling more than most children with more grace than most adults.

She is inclusive.

She named her stuffed red panda "Sadie M'lady."

She is almost always smiling and singing.

She will do anything for a laugh.

She named her stuffed chihuahua "Ferocious."

She gladly plays Pokemon, and Star Wars, and whatever else Levi asks her to.

She loves animals and is always gentle with them.

She believes that God heals her every scrape and that He is healing her every day.

She dances.

She knows what she wants and has no problem asking for it.

She is beautiful.

She loves.

On the most influential woman in my life

When my daughter was 8 months old, she was diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis. On the ride from the specialist's office in Atlanta to my parents' house, I called my mother to let her know. I don't remember the words I used, just that she had to decipher them through my sobbing. When we arrived at her house, she was in the driveway, watering her rosebushes. This image will stick with me for the rest of my life. I was certain before that second that my world had turned upside down and that everything I believed before that time had become untrue. But my mom was watering the rosebushes. Because they would bloom again. They would grow taller and fuller, there would be buds, and later beautiful, fragrant blossoms.

I never saw her cry about the diagnosis. I know that there were many tears shed, I also know that I didn't see them. Her strength empowered me to stand. I was raised by a strong, godly, powerful woman, and some of that must be in my bones, too. I see in her both soft femininity and resolute strength. And that's who I will be.

On the elegance of the Bug

My daughter loves bananas. I like that they come in their own wrappers. They require no preparation on my part before being consumed. How convenient.

But Cora does not like to eat them this way. Instead, she unwraps them, slices them, places the slices in a bowl, and eats them with a fork. How elegant.

On a messy house

I am a good mom. I know this because my house is a disaster.

Every pile of clean, folded laundry that never made it to the drawer is evidence of snuggles on the couch.

Every dirty dish left in the sink is proof that I chose to be a mom instead of a maid.

Every toy, book, or whatever out of place and on the floor (being stepped over a million times) represents time spent playing or reading instead of tidying.

Every mess is proof that I have given my "best" to my kids and saved my "what's left" for housework.

On staying young

Tonight we were watching the new version of "The Karate Kid." While being dropped off for his first day of school, the kid's mother says "I love you," and the kid acts embarrassed.

Levi: (incredulously) Why is that embarrassing? It's his mom. We tell each other "I love you" in public all the time.

I am not at all anxious for my boy to grow up. He still thinks I'm amazing, and pretty, and "the best mommy ever," and he doesn't hesitate to tell me so. I hope that even after my many faults are made evident to him, I'll still be his "tiny little mommy," and that I'll manage to somehow make it through his adolescence without too much embarrassing, emotional damage.

On winning literature

Each week, the first graders in Mrs. Guy's class write a few sentences about an animal. Last week, Levi's story was chosen by his teacher as the best in the class. Here it is:

The frightened pig was about to be cooked at the farm. The pig was very scared. He ran away. Why did he run away? He was about to be cooked into bacon!

This story is a) amazing and b) makes me wonder if the choice to remove meat from my son's diet influenced his narrative. It does seem as though he is in favor of sparing the pig and forgoing the bacon. (Although our vegetarianism has never been about animal rights) No matter the inspiration, I am super proud of my gifted and talented boy and his incredible creativity.

On likes and dislikes

Likes:

Levi and Cora (loves, actually)

Movies that make me think

Yummy (vegetarian) food

Laughing

Tolkien, Lewis, Rowling

Movies that make me laugh

Creating

Mockumentaries (e.g. Spinal Tap and The Office)

People. All kinds, we all have the "divine spark" and should therefore all be valued.

Summer, sunshine and warmth

Truth and Beauty (which, for me, are inextricable)

Dislikes:

Hidden motives

Romantic comedies

Snootiness

Most reality television (Top Chef is the exception and one of my favorite shows)

Being cold

Doing laundry

Adding "licious" to words to make new words

Criticism and judgement

Triteness (especially when used by those who are completely clueless about that which they are speaking)

On the funniest people I know

Levi: (pointing a lego star wars storm trooper holding a tiny gun at Cora) It's loaded.

Cora: I'm not scared of you.

Levi: (in the highest, squeakiest voice imaginable) peuw

Me: hysterical laughter

Seriously, those two monchhichis make me laugh harder than anyone else.

On blobs

Me: Ugh. I look like a blob.

Levi: I think you look like a cute blob.

Me: Awww...thanks, Leaves.

If I have to be a blob, at least I'm a cute one.

On the dangers of equipping a small girl with long pointy things

Cora: I want to learn how to knit.

Me: I'm not quite sure you're old enough.

Cora: Mom, I'm five.

Me: Ok.

Levi: I'm not so sure about this.

Me: About what?

Levi: Cora knitting. She could poke something.

She didn't poke anything. And she did successfully knit about an inch of a scarf (I held the left needle, but she did all the work.) She is very proud of herself. Her mom is a little proud, too.

On the very best way to wake up

Early this morning, after getting the call about the 2 hour delay, crawling back into bed, and just beginning to drift off to sleep, I was visited by a beautiful bug.

Cora: I'm the one you're looking for.

Me: For what?

Cora: For snuggling.

truth. love.

On the wisdom of little girls (a beautiful one in particular)

Me: Ugh. I hope we don't get any more snow this year.

Cora: Mom. (slight sigh of exasperation) If God wants it to snow, there will be snow. If He doesn't want it to snow, it won't.

Duh. It could be so simple. I wish I was more like the couple in C.S. Lewis's space trilogy. They "like weather," all of it. I do not. I like the sun. And that is probably wrong. After all, "The fruit we are eating is the best fruit of all.*" And I've been told repeatedly by one of my favorite people, that the snow deposits nitrogen in the ground which will make the spring blossoms even more plentiful. (Silly me, I thought it was April showers that did that).

I, once again, need to emulate Cora, and accept whatever gift is sent to me, even if it makes me shiver.

*I didn't really mean to reference the Space Trilogy twice in the post, but what I've read by Mr. Lewis has a way of sneaking into my head and sticking there.