to this.

About how he is no longer a sleep-all-day-and-night infant,

but a smiling, laughing, rolling-over, bubble-blowing baby.

Even though he has doubled his birth weight and discovered his toes, in many ways the biggest changes around here these past four and half months have been hers.

She has gone from being shared by her parents

to sharing her parents.

She has become his big sister.

She went from sounding out little readers to reading him “big” books.

She bid farewell to the birds on her wall and the only home she’s known. She learned to sleep far away from her parents and claims to no longer need Bubba.

She had her first dance recital,

learned to ride on two wheels, and blew out six candles on her cake.

And before I could blink, she waved goodbye to Kindergarten.

In the shadows of all these events I’ve sensed a maturity happening that I cannot capture in pictures and hardly even name. Over the past four and half months I have felt a shift, a deepening of understanding, a lessening of selfishness, and an eagerness to serve others. It’s as though I’ve been given glimpses of the young lady that is emerging

and she is lovely.

after a long, hard winter

you have to go outside

and unwind.

]]> http://badgersontheloose.com/2010/03/16/sometimes/feed/ 1 Rachel IMG_7640 IMG_7641 IMG_7642 http://badgersontheloose.com/2010/03/14/my-squish-ball-of-love/ http://badgersontheloose.com/2010/03/14/my-squish-ball-of-love/#comments Mon, 15 Mar 2010 04:57:23 +0000 Rachel http://badgersontheloose.com/?p=1476 ]]> I started this post five weeks ago. Every day I say to myself this is the day that I’m going to get a chance to blog, and then the day gives way to cuddling, feeding, singing, rocking, staring.

Oh the staring. My eyes never seem to get their fill of this baby.

Before I know it the day is done and I must retreat to my bed before the nighttime feedings begin.

And all I really wanted to say five weeks ago is precisely what I want to say now: I’m head over heels, madly in love with this boy.

Jude has confirmed that two weeks is more than enough time to fall in love. Two days, two hours, two minutes are more than I needed. I knew the moment the doctor lifted that round face over the curtain that my heart would never be the same.

Seven weeks ago, I sat in the hospital twirling my finger in the palm of a tiny hand and gushing about this sweet boy to my friend Jenna.  To which she responded,  ”The amazing thing about having a baby,” she replied, “is that you get to fall in love all over again. You think that’s over when you get married, but then you have a baby.”

“Oh, it’s true! It’s true! That’s exactly what it’s like.”

And so I’m falling in love all over again.

The amazing thing is that there is no division in love–it isn’t parceled out to Nate and then to Ava and then to Jude. Having a baby is discovering an entirely new reservoir of love.

I have spent the past seven weeks staring and studying this small boy, getting to know him and feeling like I’ve always known him.

I get lost in his wrinkles and could spend hours counting his toes. He has ten. And each one is as kissable as the next.

How many ways can I say that I love him? I’ve already compiled a score of grunts and squeaks, and he hasn’t even started to giggle. My nose is continually searching his scalp for more sweet scents. His skin. It is so soft and so delicious.

“Are you real?” I say each day as I cup his little head in my hands. “Are you mine?”

My arms can’t seem to put him down and each time I pick him up he melts into me as if to say, “remember, we go together.”

I knew that I wanted another child, but I did not know that I would love it this much. I only have one word left.

Bliss.

(The first and third photos are Megan’s. If you live near the Twin Cities you should get to know Megan.)

Hugs

& Kisses

from Ava & Jude!

Happy Valentine’s Day!

The trouble is that in the process of finding a name for our little boy, we fell in love with too many names. So it was more a battle of which name to let go of then it was of which one to keep.

Several times, Nate expressed his disappointment that our boy was not a set of twins, because then it would be so much easier. I do not share this sentiment.

One of the many naming books that Nate poured over at the hospital suggested that if you can’t decide between two names, imagine your baby as a kindergartener and how you would explain to him the reason for giving him his name.

As you know we have a kindergartener, so this was not too hard to imagine.

This is the story that I told my kindergartener.

MAMA: “Once upon a time there was a daddy and a mama and a little girl. The daddy and the mama loved the little girl lots and lots, and they had even more love to share. And the little girl loved her daddy mama very much, but she had more love to share too.

AVA: Is this us?

MAMA: Listen to the story, Ava. So the daddy and the mama and the little girl began to pray for a baby. Every day the little girl would pray, “Dear Jesus, please put a baby in mama’s tummy.” She would pray at meal time and bed time and throughout the day.

Then one day the mama told the daddy and the little girl that a baby was coming. Everyone was so happy! They prayed and thanked Jesus for the new little baby. But then the baby died and they were very sad.

They prayed again that God would send them another baby. And He did. That baby died too. And so did the next baby. And then the mama and the daddy and the little girl were very, very sad. But they did not stop praying.

They prayed and waited and prayed and waited and prayed for a very, very long time.

Then one day the mama had good news. There was a new baby in her belly. The daddy and the little girl were so happy, but they were also a little scared. They didn’t want this baby to die too. Each day the little girl prayed, “Dear Jesus, please keep the baby safe in mama’s tummy.”

AVA: That’s what I prayed.

MAMA: Yes you’re right. And this little baby grew in the mama’s tummy and soon it was going to be born. And the daddy and the mama and the little girl were so excited, but they didn’t know if the baby would live or if the baby would be healthy. And then time came for the baby to be born and he came out healthy and whole. He had all his fingers and toes. He could see and hear. And he was beautiful.

AVA: Just like our baby. This is us, Mama, right?

MAMA: You’re right. And so did God answer our prayer?

AVA: Mmm-hmm.

MAMA: And what did we say to him?

AVA: Thank you for giving us this baby!

MAMA: Yes, that’s what we prayed, and we were so happy that we praised God for this baby. So do you think we should choose a name that means “praise and thanks”?

AVA: Like Jude. That’s why his name is Jude?

DADDY: How did you know that Jude means “praise and thanks”?

AVA: I just do.

MAMA: And Ava, who did you say gave us this baby?

AVA: God.

MAMA: So don’t you think we should give him another name that means “gift of God”?

AVA: What is it?

DADDY: Matthew. His name is Jude Matthew.

MAMA: And every time we say his name we can remember that how we prayed, how you prayed for him to come to our family and how God heard our prayers and gave him to us.

**Postscript: Jude is also the name that Nate and I have had in our minds these past three years as we have been praying for another child. Matthew comes from the same Hebrew word as Nathan and they share the same meaning.

He’s sweet.

He’s huge:9 lbs, 5 oz. 22 inches long!

He’s loved.

He’s ours.

He’s nameless.

Though I am bone-marrow tired and dragging around a thirty-pound anchor, I cannot sit still. I cannot think. I cannot write. I can only work. My mind is consumed with one thought: “Baby is coming. Baby is coming. Baby is coming.”

Hungryman is sitting next to me with baby name books spread over his lap. He’s writing names in the air like a composer piecing together his next opus. This baby is hours away from making an appearance and the name still remains as elusive as the hidden face.

And while all around me is a frenzy of baby preparation, what I really want to tell you about is this gift called three weeks of Christmas vacation.

You see, I love that Ava goes to school. And I love Ava’s school. But adjusting to our separation and the rigidity of a school routine has been a kin to a strapping a saddle to a horse for the first time. I feel cinched and bound—and I have chafed under the burden of this schedule.

I missed the spontaneity of our free mornings. We had patterns and routines, but they were flexible. Somehow there always seem to be time for mini-excursions and extra crafts. School is rigid. Ava must be there at the same time every day for five straight days.

I loved those open days when Ava placed her hand in mine and we took on world, real and imagined.

From now on we will have another, a much desired other, but another just the same. Between school starting and this baby coming, that beautiful chapter has closed. And in life, you rarely get to revisit a chapter.

And so I was anticipating Ava’s Christmas vacation as much as she was the shiny, wrapped gifts under the tree. The first two weeks were swallowed up by celebrations and family. But that third week, when most everyone returned to work and Ava’s friends had reclaimed their places in school, she was all mine. I was all her’s.

It was as thought we had shaved out our own sliver of time.

At first I thought that we would march through all our favorite places, taking on the city the way we did in her pre-school days. And then Minnesota was blasted with an arctic chill that locked her up in an ice block for the entire week.

With the frigid winds and slippery sidewalks outside, Ava and I snuggled up inside under a quilt of books. We danced with the dromedary at Barbar’s wedding feast, helped Harry go from a black dog with white spots to a white dog with black spots, stood backstage with Angelina, and slid down stacks of hay with Laura and Mary. We hid from badgers, told Pinkie stories, sipped cocoa, and snuggled.

For those five days it was her and me, and me and her. We returned to the roots of our relationship—her rocking chair. It was a beautiful week.

In a very short time, her life, our life is going to change.

In order to type these words, I have to look over a massive sphere sitting on my lap.  I’m full of baby and full of thanksgiving. This little one making waves across my abdomen is an answer to her prayers and our prayers.

And while the wait was long, I can’t imagine a girl that I would have rather spent the past six years with. Ava, you are my delight and the daughter of my dreams.

As we celebrate the birth of the Christ child this evening, we are also eagerly awaiting the birth of another sweet babe.

Ava likes to put her face right up to my stomach and say, “Mama, don’t you wish it was like an oven so we could turn the light on and take a peek?”

Hoping that your Christmas is filled with laughter, wonder, and worship.

Merry Christmas to you and your families!

Rachel, Nate, & Ava

The celebration of Christmas is the bright, shiny moment during our dark winter months. I love how this reflects the story of Christ’s birth. While we were still lost in darkness, the Light of the World came to us as a babe to bring us new life.

Each year I like to pot paper white bulbs, small white flowers that bloom while everything else is dormant. It’s like bringing a little bit of life into a sleeping world. Not only do they fill your home with fragrance, they also make great little hostess gifts, neighbor gifts or teacher gifts.

Besides her classroom teacher, this year Ava has two dance teachers, a choir director, two Sunday school leaders, a reading teacher, and two teacher’s assistants. So last weekend, we had a little paper white potting party.

First you need some bulbs. Most nurseries carry them. I usually pick up mine at Home Depot–so romantic, I know.

Next you fill your pot with moist dirt. I found these perfect little pots at IKEA.

Then with a twist of your hand, you nestle the bulbs into the dirt. Make sure the stem is facing up.

Now for the messy part. Cover the dirt with moss. We used Spanish moss, but any moss will do.

Add a little embellishment and a gift tag with instructions.

Paper white care could not be easier:

• Keep in a sunny spot.
• Keep soil moist (water 1 or 2 times a week).

Finally, prepare yourself for this conversation.

“Wow. Thank you. What is it?”

“A paper white.”

“A paper weight?”

“Paper WHIte. It’s a little white flower that will grow and bloom.”

I realize that it little late for you to give these as gifts this year, but it’s not too late to bring some winter blooms into your own home. Let these little budding flowers nestled in moss remind you of the new life offered to you from the little babe in the manger.

Yesterday, I was helping out in her classroom and noticed that they still had some pilgrim art on the wall. I wandered over to see if I could find Ava’s. Each child had colored a pilgrim couple and attached to the drawings were quotes from each student describing what their job at the new settlement would be.

Many of the boys were going to chop down wood to keep people warm or go hunting for meat. Some kids would plant food; some would gather it. One sweet girl wrote that she would build a church. It was clear that if you wanted to bring twenty-two five-year-olds to an uncharted land, this would be your crew.

As I searched the wall for Ava’s name, I found one that said that she would grow food for people to eat.  I was so proud at that moment. All my instruction last summer on seeds and soil, water and weeding had taken root.  But as I studied the picture I realized the coloring was off. It wasn’t quite detailed enough.

Then I found my Ava’s. While all the other children had colored their pilgrims in the traditional drab hues of browns, grays, and blacks, Ava’s pilgrim’s had rose stripes, gold sashes, and aqua polka-dots.

And if Ava had landed at Plymouth, she would have “helped them make ribbon for clothes.”

Something tells me she is not going to be a contender in Survivor 2024.

But if you need a hand with accessories, she’s your girl.