Introducing Shailyn Anne

I believe that a name can be a promise – a declaration that you bestow upon your child with their first breath. A name, chosen with intention, spoken thousands of times over decades, starts as a prayer and becomes an identity. ”You shall be called…and you will be…”

Shai is a Hebrew word that means gift – God’s gift.  Lynn means beautiful. She shares a middle name with her Mimi. This precious baby girl was God’s gift to our family months before she made her arrival into this world. She has taught us how to grieve, how to hope, how to trust God, and how to be joyful. She has reminded us that everything that happens, everything that we do, can and should bring God glory. She has strengthened our marriage, softened our hearts, led us to prayer, and deepened our relationships. We firmly believe that as this sweet girl’s story unfolds, she will influence God’s kingdom and her legacy will bring Him glory and praise. What a gift to be her parents.

We are so proud to introduce “God’s beautiful gift” – Shailyn Anne.

Born April 23, 2012 at 5:10 pm, she weighed 7 pounds 10 ounces and measured 19 inches long. We are soaking up every moment.

Our family and this baby have been covered in prayer, and God’s answers to these prayers are so evident. This baby eats like a champ, with ease! You probably know that this was one of our strongest petitions. To God be the glory! We are so grateful and amazed.

Cloudy Days

The first thing I do when I wake up each morning is look out the window. The tall branches at the top of the tree in our front yard peep into view through our transom window, and that first glimpse can set the stage for the entire day. A crisp, blue sky and still branches may mean that we take a walk – the kids can play outside. The tip-tapping of the branches on our wood shake roof and a dimly lit room may mean that we spend the day trashing the play room. This morning the clouds were moving in; I got excited. A cloudy day is good for my soul.

Today, I rolled out of bed, walked down the hall, knocked on Brady’s door and then knelt on the floor outside of his room to wait. He’s a big boy now, sleeping in a big-boy bed. I listened as he dismounted, climbed down his small ladder and padded to the door. He likes to open it now, and I was ready for him. The mornings hold the sweetest hugs. They’re long and genuine. I told him I was so excited to see my big boy! He said, “I’m not so big, Mom. I’m still little. I’m little so that I can grow up to be big later.” “Good.” I said. I meant it.

When it’s cloudy, I open all the blinds and curtains. The light is different – it’s cooler, and I love it. The sky may be grim, but my kids’ eyes sparkle. I love these days.

We are busy as usual over here. We’ve celebrated Christmas and New Years’. Sis wore her first pigtails. Oh, and she turned ONE!!

Per usual, it is a balance of the unique events and the routine.

We work to make our normal days special.

And the special days great.

A huge storm is rolling in tonight, as evidenced by the fact that when I went to the grocery store tonight, there was not a single cart to be found. I had to stalk someone to their car and snag their cart to gather my groceries. Also, I am convinced that when a storm is brewing, I can smell the cows in Greeley. What is that all about?

We have food for days, including a special breakfast for a snowy morning, and our snow clothes are at the ready. This cloudy morning will most certainly have a happy ending.

Oh! I’ve been working on putting memory books together for the kids. One for each year of their life. And, I came across this picture the other night.

The thought ran through my mind that Addison is the exact age that Brady was when he got into the pantry for the first time and helped himself to a snack.

Then, tonight, this happened.

Hahahaha!

Magical

Christmas has always been one of our favorite times of the year. But, something has happened now that we have children; it’s become magical.

Things have become special again in a way that we had seemed to forget.

Creating our trove of memories, as a family, has become an irreplaceable hobby – a pastime we crave.

I assure you that the magic of this season is not lost on these two! Every light, each decoration, all the times we read the Christmas Story…

Each time the Nativity pieces are lost…and then found…

Every Christmas cookie we eat, each Christmas song we sing…

Each piece of the Christmas chain we pull, every time we update our advent calendar…

Invokes an inexplicable, contagious joy.

They love the lights in our neighborhood, the three wise men, all shepherds, hot chocolate, presents, baby Jesus, angels, the Grinch, and snow.

We have watched Charlie Brown Christmas and The Polar Express more times than you can imagine, and listened to Frosty the Snowman umpteen times in the car. We shake our imaginary jingle bells to The Jingle Bell Rock, and our family rendition of Away in a Manger will rock your socks off.

We are loving Christmas-time with our family, and we’re doing our best to instill the true reason for this season in our kids.

We are so grateful for everything that we have been given. So blessed to have such an amazing family.

From our family to yours, we wish you a very Merry Christmas!

The Unexpected

Whew! This blog has been neglected! A lot is changing in our family, and we want to catch you up!

In September we found out I was pregnant! Surprise! This is my one and only excuse for not posting more. Please forgive.

While I hated being pregnant, we loved the idea of having another baby. I got used to throwing up, and if you know me, this is significant! And, of course, I finally got used to being pregnant. I started to feel better, and life has finally resumed some normalcy.

All the while, my kids got huge! They stop growing right?

We learned we were having another girl! And, since we pretty much love having one baby girl, we can’t wait for the next one!

While it was confirmed that baby girl was healthy, I received some scary news at my 20-week ultrasound appointment.

The next day as Danny and I watched our baby girl kick and move on an overhead screen, we saw, for the first time, the deep grooves in her lip and palate. We learned that our precious baby girl would be born with a bilateral cleft lip and palate, and we were crushed. It is devastating to learn that there is something not quite right with your child.

We cried in public. We listened to many doctors tell us they were sorry, and I think they were.

We understand grief differently, but we also understand hope differently.

Our family is growing, and we could not be more excited!

We trust that our baby girl is cared for and loved by God as he continues to knit her together before her birth. We are scared and excited. Sad but grateful.

We appreciate your prayers and support as we begin to navigate the journey of caring for our precious baby girl. She arrives in April!

Morning Glory

There are mornings when it is so difficult to pull myself out of bed. Just ask my husband. On the other hand, please don’t. I try not to let my kids be my alarm clock, but lately it has been so tough! Sis usually wakes up first. Then B. He has truly begun to understand the workings of the video monitor in his room. He gets that I can hear him and that it takes very little effort on his part.

“Mom?” He’ll say calmly.

“Yah, Brade?” I’ll yell from bed, trying to delay getting up by a few moments.

“Can you come get me, please?” he’ll say sweet as pie.

“Yep! I’m coming!”

….

“Mom?”

It always amazes me that even though it may take me 15 minutes to get out of bed, it never takes even close to that long to love being awake.

Mornings are precious. Everyone is so fresh and gracious.

So, even though I am by no means a “morning person,” I love the mornings.

And, I really do hope that one day, I am a lot better at getting up early!

For now, I’ll keep working to set my alarm.

After that, I think I’ll focus on actually getting out of bed after the first alarm…maybe the second.

Through God’s Lens

I rocked my baby to sleep tonight. It’s not what you think. You see, I often rock sis to sleep. Rather, sis falls asleep in the rocker with me, most nights, in a milk-induced coma. You know how it goes.

I treasure every single moment I have with that precious girl sleeping in my arms. I know all too well that the deep sighs, the soft breaths, limp limbs sprawled across my body will not be something that I get to enjoy forever. Oh, I know this too well.

That is actually the very reason that tonight is such a gift. You see, while I often rock “the boop” to sleep, it’s rare that I get to rock with her big brother. He’s two now, you know! Those days have mostly passed.

I’ve learned to get my “snuggle” on with him in the 20 or so minutes that we get before bed, when he’ll crawl up on to my lap (although it’s often Daddy’s lap) and read. Then pray. Sometimes sing. For those 20 minutes I get to put my face close to his, smell his clean hair, talk, always laugh, and cherish a memory or two, or ten. When we put him him in bed, he is usually still bouncing. Literally.

Tonight was a gift. After putting him in bed, I ended up checking on him after I heard him through the monitor. “Rock me, mama.” You couldn’t pay me not to.

I love documenting my memories with photos, but often my most cherished moments are ones that I cannot capture with my own lens. I find myself praying, “Now, Lord. Press the shutter button now!” Click! And I imagine God capturing a photo of a memory I want to retain forever.

Tonight, in my mind, I composed images I wished for God to capture. Brady’s legs are so long now! As he curled up on his side we could barely both fit in the chair. He tucked one leg over my hip as the other fell through my legs. His arms were up around my neck. His head fell right in the middle of my chest. I could reach up around his body to rub his little back. Click.

I sang with him. “I love you Lord, and I lift my voice.” Brady whispered “thank you” prayers. Click.

As his breathing got slower…louder…his limbs got heavy. Then his eyes began to slowly close. When his black, feathery lashes lay against his face, my mom-heart just melts. Oh, those lashes! Thick bunches of two-year-old preciousness gathered at points on his cheek. Click. Click. Click.

I held him tight, and I let him lay for a good half hour. I prayed over him. I listened to his little goose-like snores. I laid my face against his slightly sweaty forehead, and I noticed how the hair on the side of his head was barely damp. Click.

I thought for a long time about how I was going to stand up without waking him. I mourned having to put him down, knowing that this precious moment may not return for a long, long time. He didn’t wake when I put him in bed. He rolled over, grabbed his blanket, and nuzzled his face deep within it. Click.

My heart is so full. Each minute I spent with him in that chair showered me with blessings that I cannot possibly deserve. I am so blessed.

I can only wish that God keeps these “pictures” for me, and pray I get to see them one day.

 

Keepin’ it in Check

I am that mom, and I’m okay with it. I can hardly count the many reasons why this is true. We all have our moments, and honestly, I am thankful for them. They put me in my place, and then they help me remember why I love being a mom in the first place.

If you’re not a parent, this won’t make much sense, and if you are a parent, I’d appreciate a heartfelt, “Amen!” Taking children, young children,  to the grocery store is a task that should only be initiated in the most dire of circumstances. Grocery stores do their best, and, to their credit, they have instituted all kinds of ideas to make it easier for moms to get in and out quickly and with sanity still intact. Would you believe that our local store now has carts that allow my child to drive a car and watch TV while I shop? This is craziness. And, it is absolutely necessary.

There are the free samples. Thank goodness! At least I know that when I leave the store my child will be stuffed full of fancy cheese, stale muffins, questionable sushi, and if we’re lucky, an orange slice that has been touched by no less than 4 other kids hands when their moms weren’t looking.

Work it, sister.

The very first time I took both of my children to the grocery store at the same time I’ll admit, I was nervous. It took me 45 minutes to actually get them ready to go to the store (no surprise there), 5 minutes to figure out what to do with them once I got there (Sissy’s seat does not fit in the front part of the cart – hence my first introduction to car-carts. Brady drives in the front – Boop rides in the basket.)

I could hardly believe that I made it to the check out line in less than half an hour. My groceries were making their way across the check out stand into a new cart. I was swiping my credit card, begging my two-year-old to stay put. There is a two minute window where it becomes ever so difficult to manage the kid in the car-cart. When the checker pulls your cart up to their side of the stand to ring up your groceries, your kid goes with it. And, you inevitably step to the other side of the check stand to swipe your credit card. This separation proved detrimental to my first multi-kid trip. I should have known.

Car door opens – child jumps out. I kid you not. The kid made it 10 feet away from me in less than 2 seconds. In the time that it took for me to scribble my name, grab my receipt in one hand, car seat in the other, he was across the aisle at the bank – jumping up and down, pants literally around his ankles, trying to grab a phone that was attached to the wall. He was so excited; and, his diaper butt was waving to everyone else checking out at King Soopers! How can you not laugh at a half naked child and his mother trying to keep her own pants up while holding an infant, bending down, and trying to pull up her other child’s pants while he jumps.

Just a couple of weeks ago, the same precious two-year-old had a melt down at the aforementioned grocery store. Again, sister’s seat does not fit in the grocery cart, and while I’m able to stuff groceries all around her while I’m shopping, after they’re bagged, she must be carried. The two minutes it takes to get from the check out stand to the car are critical. They’re either good or bad.

Hold sister with one arm. Try to push a full cart with one arm. Try to corral a two-year-old with my voice.

“Stay close to mommy!”

“No, we can’t ride the horse today. Remember when you threw a fit in produce?”

“Okay, you can smell the flowers one more time, but then we have to go.”

“Yes, the movie rental machine is kind of like a phone!”

“Catch up to mommy, please!”

By the time we reached the parking lot, there was a full blown meltdown. I’m pretty sure we were running on no nap that day. With no arms left to grab the screaming kid, I was forced to stop, mid parking lot, to figure things out. Cart starts drifting. Mom at eye level with child now. Middle aged man stops to help.

“Ma’am, can I help you get to the car?”

“Sorry, we’re just having a moment here.”

“I totally understand. I have 4 kids. I’ll push the cart.”

“Thanks so much.”

2 year old in one arm, not happy. Baby in other arm, completely oblivious. Man pushing cart. Lifesaver.

I remember getting in the car relieved that I was no longer standing in the parking lot with a screaming child, wondering how to get to my car. I remember thinking, “I was that mom…with that child.” Then, I realized that I was not embarrassed. I’m a great mom to two great kids who occasionally have melt downs in public places! My child will melt down again. It does not define me, and it certainly does not define him. Thank goodness we get to try again.

Thank God we all get to try again.

Let’s Pretend

I can vividly remember the days when an old king-sized sheet draped between two dining room chairs and the living room couch gave way to endless play. Crawling through that doorway, anchored with heavy books (usually encyclopedias), meant that you could be anyone that you wanted for the time being. I loved to pretend, and I love watching my son follow in those footsteps.

Pretend starts in the morning and ends when he falls asleep. Waking up, for him, is never dull. When I walk into his room, he is already “driving his car,” “delivering packages,” “vacuuming,” “eating pancakes,” “fixing the lawn mower,” or “driving a trash truck” – all within the confines of his crib. His blanket is either a lawn mower, a leaf blower, a car, the trash truck, a guitar, a vacuum, or a tool that he uses to spread the “paint” (which is actually water from his cup) that he has poured out all over his crib. “It’s blue, Mom!” Indeed it is.

These days his identity changes frequently. And, even though I forget who he is pretending to be sometimes, Brady never does.

“Brady, it’s time to eat dinner!”

“I’m not Brady, I’m trash truck guy,” he’ll say matter of factly.

“Buddy, let’s head upstairs and take a bath.”

“No. I’m Olga.” One of his favorites. Also, my least favorite. I just can’t bring myself to call my 2 year old son Olga very often. I assure you, he insists.

I really do appreciate his imagination though, and I love to watch it run wild. The kid can turn an ottoman into a riding mower, a pillow into a 4-wheeler, a pitching machine into his vacuum (complete with sound effects), and an old diaper box in his closet into a trash truck, a piano bench into papa’s car.

We could not love being parents more than we already do.

Yeah, We’re Hap-pap-y

In the Summertime when the weather is high, you can chase right up and touch the sky. Ahhhh, Mungo Jerry, you were right in the 70′s, and you’re right now. I am officially in love with summer.

Being a mom is wonderful, but being a family is sublime. We are eating up our Summer and savoring every bite.

We’d worked so hard to get our kids on a schedule. Napping at the right time, for the right amount of time. Ensuring they’re in bed on time, bathed then clad in appropriately warm (or cool) jammies. Then this warm weather hit. The grass turned green, and the water got warm. We haven’t looked back.

Naps are missed. Bedtimes are extended. Then they’re extended again. We’re outside, as a family, living life.

Throw a schedule to the wind every once in awhile for the sake of Summer. There are memories to be made.

We can sleep later, right?

The Unspoken “I Love You”

In the last week my child has developed an accent. I don’t know how to describe it, and I certainly can’t imitate it. I don’t think he knows anyone with an accent, unless you count the Texans. It usually comes out when he’s whining or sassing. Words don’t always sound better with an accent, I assure you. If it didn’t come out at the worst times, one could argue that it’s pretty darn cute.

In between the times when he’s yelling at me (accent in full force) and too busy for me (child’s got an independent streak), my two year old is pretty sweet. Lots of hugs and kisses. I know his spirit is gentle. We’ve prayed it into him.

He tells us that he loves us all the time. He usually initiates the love fest with something like, “Mom, I love you too.” I like to pretend that he understands that I’m loving him all day long, and his, “I love you too’s” are a response to my wordless “I love you’s.” Like when I put his lunch down in front of him and his oranges make a happy face. It’s my wordless “I love you.” I’d like to think he gets that. Changing ten million diapers a day, cleaning up 2 billion messes a day, giving up coffee for the benefit of my nursing child, figuring out how to really use Spray and Wash – these are wordless I love you’s.

I keep telling him he’ll always be my little boy. At this point I’m still convinced that if I tell him that enough, it will be true. Please don’t burst my bubble.