anniversary reflections

This past Monday we celebrated our seventh anniversary. Lucky number seven. The seven year itch. Neither of these phrases is true of our marriage. Year four to five proved much more than an itch for us and Lord knows it's a whole lot more than luck getting us this far. On Monday, I thought about our wedding day and I thought about a song we had two dear friends sing during our ceremony. You Are the Same by the Bridge Band. It celebrates God's unchanging character despite our faltering discipleship. I remember picking it as a young 22 year old anticipating her wedding day, thinking of course it's primarily about God's love for us, but it kind of describes what marriage is like too. 

But oh, young self, it can never describe our marriage here on earth and you have no idea of the all too real picture you'll get of that.

Girlfriend, you are going to make a huge mistake. You're going to marry that man and you're going to so quickly and so unknowingly equate him with God. You will build up so many expectations in your heart and mind for him. He will meet all your needs and desires. He will happily provide for you. He will always be kind, respectful, available. He'll catch your drift and always be on the same page. He'll always think of you first and know you fully and deeply. Both of you will make mistakes but you'll always love each other - as the song says, when the things I do are different than the promises I've made, your love for me never changes. These are the (unrealistic) expectations you're living from.

Watch out. Before you know it, both of you are going to be half heartedly living out your vowels and your love is changing and you don't even realize it. Because guess what, you're human. You are sinful to the core and capable of much more evil and faults than you realize. Having kids will prove that to you if ever there were a doubt. You and him are both keeping score. You're getting disappointed and ashamed and uncertain. You're surprised by challenges and heart ugliness. Struggles are mounting, communication is lessening, prayer is nonexistent. 

And then one day he tells you that big, awful, life-altering news. You're not just surprised now - you're in disbelief. Because that man you equated with God just did something far from God-like. Your marriage couldn't sustain the routine that had been going on for too long. Little hurts and misses building and building, but assuming love would never change. A wrecked marriage would never be you, never you Jesus-loving Christians. But there you are face to face with that revealing reality: even your husband can't fulfill your deepest needs and longings. It was always so easy to say, but excruciatingly hard to come to terms with.

Young 22 year old self, that song should only be picked to worship God for His unchanging nature. For His deepest, fullest love even in your wavering faith and frequent sin. It's ok, you'll learn that later. You'll learn it the hard way, but I'm not sure there's any other way to learn it. After the horrible news, the shameful and hurtful time in your marriage, you will finally get it and know it and believe it. That truth will be what pulls you two out of the pit to higher ground. That truth is all you have to stand on and you'll finally realize that that's all you need to stand on. Release the shame. You tried and you're trying. God is not surprised and if you did this whole marriage thing perfectly His love still wouldn't be more than it is for you and your husband as you rework and rewire. 

You'll learn about grace for real and that, girlfriend, is so good. The hurt sucks, but the grace is the best thing ever. God will use your friends and family and strangers to be His real grace. And you'll be able to give grace to your husband because you get that Jesus has grace for all of us. It's an uphill battle though, and some days you wonder where you're going and what you're doing and why oh why is this your story. You'll wonder if the hard or mundane days in marriage are a picture of the whole thing. But you know Jesus' voice - you learned it well during those sad days - and he's telling you not to dare give up, and not to dare try to make it good by your own strength or power or will. 

The night before your seventh anniversary, your husband will give you a gift. You'll feel nervous because gift-giving isn't necessarily his specialty - or, receiving gifts isn't necessarily your speciality. Gifts can feel like missses, which can bring up doubts if you're not careful. But this night before your seventh anniversary, something different will happen. You will for the first time with this man feel fully known. He thought of you without your prompting. He encompassed so much of what you like and value in one pair of killer earrings. Don't for a second despair because it took seven years. Be so so glad  and thankful because this is a symbol of how your marriage has grown and matured and healed. You'll smile. God's grace in the form of gold leather. Seemingly slow timing that truly is the best timing. Jesus' voice again. You are fully known by God, and He knew you needed another reminder that He actively loves you, sees you, and never forgets you.

Also, you'll celebrate over a dinner of bread, pasta, and cheese - glory to God in the Highest!

twenty two weeks

Knox turned five months on his first Christmas - what a killer week he had. We traveled to Pennsylvania to soak in all that we could being around family and festiveness. We had our fingers crossed for snow, but instead got mild temps in the upper 50s. Ultra lame. Knox seems to have really found his voice while we were there - now squeaking and squealing along with his coos. He seems to be getting a little more active, which has me wondering if we may have a wild child brewing. 

twenty one weeks

Could've sworn I put this one up already. Typical.

twenty weeks

It's been twenty long weeks, but finally Surrey has made her weekly photo debut! When she asked, I couldn't resist my behind the scenes helper and decided it was fitting to keep her in the final cut. Although I explain to her each week that I did the same thing with her (and even show her the photos from it!) it's kind of heartbreaking to watch her stand to the side with all the attention on Knox. I'm so thankful that we haven't had any bumps in the road with her and having a baby in the house. That is, until I just jinxed it. She totally loves him and is constantly in his face - to which he generally smiles widely back at her. Won't it be so fun if they get along so well as they grow up? Fingers crossed! 
In other news, we think Knox may be teething. That being said, I'm sure he's not, we're just desperately hoping there is some reason for his increased fussiness. 

nineteen weeks

Apparently, I'm mistaken. But I'm in good company because at Knox's four month (!) appointment, even the doctor thought Knox seemed like a tank. Our conclusion? That head. That big, mammoth Surrey-like head that ranks in the 92nd percentile, which overpowers any glimpse of a neck. An optical illusion making this baby boy seem like he could be in preschool. He's only tipping the scales at 15lbs - 42nd percentile, and is nearly 26" - 71st percentile. 
Poor thing has an unavoidable flat spot on the back of his head, but if you're sleeping nearly twelve hours at night, there's not much to be done about that. 
And world's best mom found out my kid doesn't have reflux, but rather we're just probably pounding him with nearly too much food at each feeding creating a spit-up ticking time bomb. "If you fill something to maximum capacity and walk around with it, something's gonna spill out." Thank you, pediatrician, for making me feel like I haven't done this before. "If you don't mind the laundry, I don't mind the feelings." So reassuring. I do mind the laundry, and the stains and the smells, but hey, it's what 'works' for us.

seventeen and eighteen weeks

Just this. Basically on the even of nineteen weeks I'm posting these pictures. Thanksgiving travel and a current detox which has put me face to face with my sugar addiction and caused mega sickness have both delayed the process. Knox seems like a tank. Anxious to see what the doctor's report is at his appointment next week (it was supposed to be this past Monday but the doctor had the flu, go figure) in terms of weight and height percentiles. Say it ain't so, I believe he's almost to the point of outgrowing the 6mos clothes. He's the cutest boy around, but we're all over the constant vomiting. 

sixteen weeks

Two words: growth spurt. Holy cow the end of this week Knox was a crazed eating machine. One second I thought I was starving him to death, the next I felt like his poor body might explode from all he was eating. The uncertainty - and all the sudden baby freak-outs - sent my stress through the roof. We ended the week on a good note though - today he settled back into a scheduled rhythm and wasn't literally trying to bite my head off every hour due to supposed hunger. He continues to refuse to sleep like a normal child during the day, requiring high maintenance conditions as if he were royalty. It's exhausting. But then I remind myself the kid is sleeping 12 hours at night, so there's that. Also is separation anxiety really a thing this early?? For Knox, yes. He is working that sad, bottom lip like it's his job.

fifteen weeks

Knox's life consists mostly of spitting up everything he eats. I mean, it's so bad. Fortunately, he doesn't flinch and isn't phased a bit. I, on the other hand, could really use a break from catching vom in my hand, cleaning barfed-on wicker chairs with a Q-tip, ruining clothes, and doing wash nonstop. Let the good times roll.

So freaking cute though.

happy birthday, surrey

Just a few photos from Surrey's endless birthday celebrations. She looks so old in some of these - like a little girl, not a toddler. She's got the attitude and the sentence structure to go with it. Although in her old age (or because she's gone through a thousand transitions in such a short time) she's taken on a bolder, more defiant personality, she really is lovely. We just love her so much. She's so imaginative and is generally kind and helpful. She's becoming quite a jokester and is quite smart. He may be traumatized at times, but she also really loves her brother. I get a little scared we're screwing her up or that the recent lack of attention is doing her a big disservice. This parenting stuff is hard work. Also, she's still not potty trained. I'm too lazy. Parenting fail.

In other news she has become obsessed with princesses, leaving her poor stuffed and figurine animals in the dust. She asks us all day if she is beautiful and if she is lovely as she prances around in dresses and capes. Of course, sweet girl.

fourteen weeks

Knox is really getting into the holiday spirit with this scared, Halloween-y face. Good man, Knox. Let's hope you're a rule follower, unlike your older sister. 

Here comes a big jinx. Knox has slept through the night four nights in a row! It's amazing what happens when I let go of the idea that there is one single right way to do newborn sleep and kill myself striving to find it, and instead just go with what works for us. We feed him around 7pm and now all of a sudden he's dropped the 2am-ish feeding and can make it til 6am-ish. We have Jeremiah go in as the first defense in the night so that smelling me doesn't send Knox down the hunger path (thank you pediatrician for opening our eyes to this miraculous plan). Once we get the swaddle down to a science we'll really be in the money. Last night he was up several times due to arms flailing free. He can't handle it. We even use those overpriced velcro swaddler things to help with the tightness, but he's so dang strong - not to mention a violent sleeper. Put the two together and it's an deadly, unswaddled combo.

In other news, he may or may not have had his first traumatic experience when dressed tightly as a pinata for Halloween. Poor guy.

thirteen weeks

It's so true what everyone says. The days are long (so so long), but the weeks and months are short. I really can't believe Knox is three months old. I can't believe we made it alive to the age that I remember with Surrey was when I felt like I could do it. Of course there's also a sense of ohmygoshI'msotiredhasn'thebeenhereforyears?! But, generally, it's surprising that he's growing so fast. 

And boy do I love the growth. Love that this kid is beefing up and love that he's becoming more of a real being. He's really a joy. Like you, I can't believe I'm saying that. I catch myself telling him, you're awesome, quite frequently. His smile and noises and charm are through the roof. Don't get me wrong, baby boy still knows how to wail and could stand to sleep longer and better on his own, but generally he's happy and content unless he's tired or hungry. We can all relate.

eleven and twelve weeks

Sorry, Mom.

We were traveling up to Pennsylvania when Knox turned 11 weeks and ran into the classic case of forgotten clipboard. So, belated weekly photo. Knox was one of two show-stoppers at the wedding we went to in Pennsylvania - the other being his sister. Maybe it was his baby blazer, maybe it was his sleek side part. Whatever it was, the twenty-somethings were swooning. He handled the attention and the bathroom floor diaper changes like a true gentleman. He continues to be happy and content for the most part, which is a such a joy.

In honor of his sister's third birthday, Knox posed on this tablecloth I had made for Surrey's baptism out of some of her weekly photo fabrics and then used again this past weekend for her birthday party. He's still mad he didn't get a donut or a slice of cake during the celebrations. One day buddy boy, one day. Following in Surrey's footsteps, the kid spits up like it's going out of style. Consequently, we're doing wash almost every day and no longer own any respectable, stainless articles of clothing. This Christmas I hope Santa actually becomes a real thing because we have some serious baby induced needs. Stain free clothes being one. 

diaper band-aid

This morning was not my most shining moment as a parent. Baby sleep trumps all in this household, but after this morning I may have to rethink that theory.

Knox and I dropped Surrey off at preschool at 9:00. Initially, Knox seemed unusually irritated in his car seat. Some might say he was writhing. Press on I told him, the red light would soon turn green and he'd be lulled to sleep by the moving car. It's ok, Knox. It's ok, Knox. Chill out little buddy. You see, we have gotten in a killer routine of baby boy sleeping in his car seat the entire morning and I'm not willing to give that up for a little fussiness.

If Knox had audible words (as opposed to inaudible?) he would've told me to shove it. Because three hours later, once we got home from picking Surrey up, I had to peel sweet boy's diaper off like a band-aid. I mean that seriously. Think about when you've ripped a band-aid off. Pulling it off, fighting the adhesion and wincing in pain with every millimeter slowly uncovered. Except this diaper band-aid's adhesive was caked-on, three-hour-old poop. Just, omg. I literally threw out the onesie and pants he was wearing. No laundry detergent can be expected to fix that. Ten minutes and two pounds of wipes later Knox was "cleaned" up (can one ever fully recover from such a mess - doubtful) and Surrey was almost in tears wondering where in the world her mac and cheese lunch was. 

Mac and cheese for Surrey, a bottle for Knox. Catching up on the morning at preschool over the lunch table. Admittedly, I was texting a good friend about my parenting fail. And then I noticed maybe the worst part of the whole thing - poop on the finger I was texting with. Poop on the hand I had prepped lunch with. Again, just, omg. Lesson learned: hand sanitizer cannot replace soap and water. It may be easier to manage while holding a baby, but from now on I will 100% of the time put the baby down in a safe place and opt for real deal hand washing.

Moral of the story: never underestimate initial car seat fussiness. And if you do, most definitely do not ignore the smell of spoiled milk coming from the car seat and child halfway through preschool freedom, even if waking up said child will ruin the morning's hope of a workout. You hate Jillian Michaels anyway.

ten weeks

Whoops, forgot to post! And now, I forget everything that happened last week. Must not have been too horrific, or if it was, I've successfully blocked it out. Either way - victory!

unexpected

Last weekend this happened. You may not believe it from all the biker going on, but under the helmets are a dairy farmer and his pastry chef wife. I imagine not your first guess. It's my sister and her husband and ever since we snapped this photo last weekend during our visit north I just can't get enough of it. Besides my brother-in-law looking mega B.A. in his leather jacket and aves, I love it because it's the most unexpected photo life ever. Unexpected but the best.

In her previous life, Andria was a softball pitcher for Division 1 Rutgers on a full-ride scholarship. She traveled to New York and Colorado post-college and then went to the French Culinary Institute. Galen is one of ten children who grew up home schooled on a diary farm. They're ten and a half years apart in age, love Jesus fiercely, and own a motorcycle. Andria and Galen are so clearly living out what God has in store for them. This is no cookie cutter story. 

I absolutely love it.

And it got me thinking about my own life. I use so much of my energy planning and striving for the expected. How can I make my life look like the lives of people around me? Jobs, finances, clothes, possessions. How can I fit in?

There's not much room for God in that. I focus so hard on trying to make my life look normal instead of aligning my life with what God has for me. 

The year after I graduated from Penn State I interned with Campus Crusade for Christ. My parents and my future in-laws thought I was nuts. I'm going to talk about Jesus to college students as a career? I have to raise support? Over $40,000 in three months??! Not wise. Even I was hesitant. But crazy as it sounded, I chose to do it. I chocked it up to my track record of stubbornness - classic Brianna, doing what she wants to do no matter what other people say. But looking back, that's a big time lie. That wasn't stubbornness, that was following Jesus in the unexpected. That was listening to God's voice in my life, trusting I know what that sounds like to me. And in my life, that's when I've felt the most joy and meaning and have had the greatest ability to trust God. There's good stuff in the uncomfortable, in the unexpected.

Almost a year ago to date from this rad motorcycle revelation, my counselor encouraged me to talk with Jeremiah about what we thought God has for us. Not for our friends, but for us. After all, our story became very unexpected, which is why I was going to counseling in the first place. I don't believe God will rock my life as hard as what I've walked through in my marriage to ultimately have it turn out like my neighbor next door's or my best friend's or my siblings'.

For me, an expected life is a small view of what God has for me, for my family. And with a small view of God, I will miss out on so much joy and meaning and trust. And that's the good stuff of life. I want all that. I want my kids to experience all that and want them to watch their parents dive head first into what God has for them, even if it seems on paper like we're taking a one-way train to crazy town.

And thank God He has different stories for each of us, because I hate motorcycles.

nine weeks

Nine weeks old and upgrading onesie sizes. This picture captures Knox mid "ah-gooo," little noises from him that never get old. He's quite the charmer, very smiley and talkative when he's awake. There's nothing quite like your baby catching a glimpse of you and bursting out in a big gummy smile. And yes, the crying is annoying, but it is kind of flattering that he stops and sleeps soundly if I hold him (most of the time). Good news is I have figured out how to get him to nap for close to three hours in the morning - car seat, baby. Works most of the time, thank you Jesus.

Other big things this week, Knoxy boy had his first big road trip. He's already been to Charlottesville, VA and back (about an hour one way), but this past weekend he headed up north. He was a champ. Six hour trip one way. I mean, PHEW. And he did great while there, too. I thought back to when we first traveled with Surrey when she was five weeks and it was the most horrendous experience of my life. And then, at eight-ish weeks. Again, horrendous. So, we're feeling good and clinging to the hope that traveling will be doable with this boy.

Surrey continues to get all up in Knox's space all day every day. He doesn't seem to mind too much and oftentimes even smiles at her or "kisses" her back. It's stressful and I feel like a broken record telling her to be careful or back the train up, but it's also so sweet to see. 

eight weeks

If this isn't the funniest picture you've ever seen...
Ha! This kid is getting hilarious. That face. That growing chub. And my oh my that sweet coo-ing that has become more and more frequent. 
Now, sweet Knox, if we can just get a handle on this daytime sleeping thing. For the love.

seven weeks

The boy is real cute, especially when he's goo-ing and gaa-ing. But otherwise, he is killing me! 

off she goes

We've entered a new phase of life. School. Well, "school."

Today we sent Surrey off to her first morning of 2 year old MMO/preschool. She will absolutely thrive there and I'm so excited that she's able to go. Right now in life I just can't offer her a lot of mental and physical engagement and creativity, things she so so needs especially with her vivid imagination. I don't say that in a way to put myself down, I just say it as reality. With a newborn and a part-time job and everything else, I'm just not on my A game in terms of toddler innovation. So I'm happy to have her go and be and enjoy. She'll love being with other kids - the bulk of her life that's how it's been. I'm thankful for the eight months we recently had just the two of us, but I've learned that it's good for her to be around other kids consistently.

Satan popped up fiercely this morning. He came in the form of Surrey falling down the front steps on our way to the car. Scraped knee and tears. He came in the form of heavyish rain right as we were leaving. I had to carry a thousand raincoats, a car seat with a baby, a bag of supplies for the classroom, a big girl going to preschool, and her tote bag. And there are multiple flights of stairs to get into the church building for school. Satan could have sent us scrambling and stressed and who knows, maybe he could have gotten under my skin so bad that we didn't make it there. But oh sweet victory! More than conquerors.

How can it be that not only do I have two kids but one of them is at school?? Of course the first thing I did after I dropped her off was to go grab Starbucks. After all, I got everyone and everything out the door this morning and it's cooler outside and it's rainy. So, I deserved it. Ha. Anyway, I was imagining if someone asked said to me, ohh look at that sweet baby boy, is he your first? And I'd say, oh no I have another at preschool. Say what?! Aren't I still in high school? Nuts.

broken to beautiful

I'm not going to rehash every detail of yesterday morning. Let's just say it was maddening. It involved wet sheets and a screaming baby and everyone waking up at 5:30. It involved my daughter yelling at me from her room "Mommy, stop picking Knox" over and over again. It went from irritating to heartbreaking. 

Soon after, we were driving in the car and Surrey started singing along with the music. In my sleep deprivation I hadn't noticed that for once she hadn't demanded the Little Mermaid soundtrack on loop and so we were listening to All Sons & Daughters, an acoustic/folk Christian group. And I heard that sweet little voice behind me sing along in her own pronunciation of the words: You are a Savior and you take brokenness aside and make it beautiful, beautiful. A communication from Jesus straight to me.

The whole chorus of the song goes like this:
I am a sinner if it's not one thing it's another
Caught up in words, tangled in lies
But You are a Savior and You take brokenness and make it beautiful, beautiful.


After Jeremiah told me the news, life was a mess. I was broken and our marriage was broken because the covenant we had made with each other before God had been broken. Insecurity, anger, fear, sadness. Tons of questions and tons of hurt. We were in the trenches and I wondered if or how it would ever mend. A thriving, enjoyable marriage felt like a fat chance, an impossibility. For awhile we were in survival mode. A good day for me was mustering up the energy to feed my kid three meals a day and get to the grocery store. Something secret had been made known and we were trying our best to live and parent together amidst the rawness of it all. 2013 started off worse than any other year and I imagined it might end even worse.

But God chose to take our brokenness aside and make it beautiful. Through much counseling, vulnerability, and facing hard things, much healing came. And it's deeper beauty than I would've expected. Because after being so wronged, the last person I thought would be put through a life-changing transformation was me. But in exposing my true self - questions, doubts, fears, passions - to the best therapist ever, to dear friends, and to myself, God renewed me. Our marriage was on the brink of ending, but it was just a symptom of some bigger, deeper issues that I probably never would have had the time and space to sort out otherwise. That is hardship to be thankful for and hardship not wasted. God was so near and doing so much that I was able to contribute to a marriage that shouldn't be.

God is transforming my story. He takes brokenness aside and makes it beautiful. 2013, my marriage, my self. Pregnancy and the two people we get to call ours.

But it's not only the big life things - it's the day-to-day things, too. The pediatrician told me last week that I'm expected to do my worst parenting of my oldest child during the first 100 days of the second's life. Movies, TV, you name it. Consider it done, doc. So freeing and so reassuring. Because morning after morning of PBS Kids and Christmas movies (yes, it's gotten that bad around here) I get sucked in to thinking Surrey is missing out, that I'm doing her wrong, and that other moms aren't this incompetent. I am a sinner if it's not one thing it's another. Caught up in words, tangled in lies.

But God redeems His people and He surely redeems my days. He doesn't leave these tiring, maddening mornings with little people as so. He takes them aside and makes them beautiful. Surrey sings His truth from her car seat and in that He reminds me of all He has done and all He has yet to do.

Thursday, September 4

Friday, September 5

(Please note: Surrey's most requested song from the Little Mermaid soundtrack is "Poor, Unfortunate Souls" sung by none other than Ursula, the villian. Jesus take the wheel. Repeat after me, broken to beautiful, broken to beautiful...)

six weeks

The fabric this week is fitting. It's an all out war around here as we battle Knox's tendency to scream the entire day. Well, not the entire day, just every single time we try to put him down to sleep. It is absolutely maddening. Just so far today he has cried for like six hours. It's only 2pm and I'm being gracious. I'm going to start telling myself it's a growth spurt, which will buy me hope for a couple days. My college roommate who just had her third boy says it could just be a boy thing, as all her boys craved the hold. In case that's the truth, I sent out a cry for help for a Moby wrap and fortunately that same day a friend delivered hers to my door step. Knox loves the Ergo chest carrier, but I wanted something a little less buckle-y for wearing around the house to get chores done or play with Surrey. Now, if I can just figure out how to get the dang thing on and sturdy enough to hold my child. That same college roommate literally Facetimed with me this morning with her THREE boys in the background and gave me a tutorial on how to use the Moby. Wonder Woman. Cheers to another week down!

Also, he's symbolically punching us as his pose of the week. Rough.

the sign i've been waiting for

As you may have gleaned, I'm not really winning any awards for parenting these two kids of mine. I'm truly not even close to great at it - something I feel day in and day out, every hour on the hour. It's a boat load of stress. The feedings, the scheduling (or lack of scheduling), the crying - oh God, the CRYING - the guilt, the neediness, the entertaining. If you have a couple kids, I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. I'm not alone, right? I am so tired. My body hurts.

A friend from church once told me she'd take the physical exhaustion of babies and little ones over the emotional exhaustion of teenagers any day. In the present circumstance of said physical exhaustion that unfortunately sort of feels like a hopeless slap in the face. Could this really be easier than what's to come? Jesus take the wheel.

Here's what I'm realizing: this struggle I'm having in raising two kids is for me very much an emotional exhaustion - probably even more than physical. Emotional because my sweet baby boy is screaming his lungs out and I feel so bad? Emotional because I have a front row seat to my oldest being parented by PBS Kids? Sure, some. But ultimately my emotional exhaustion centers around my own selfishness.

This afternoon I sent out an SOS to my husband. In our string of texts back and forth (thank you Jesus he has service in his new school!) I later typed this: Mourning the loss of my old life when I could do things I needed or wanted to do, not just little kid crowd control.

If that isn't the ugliest thing I've ever said. I didn't just have a kid yesterday. I've been at this parenting thing for close to three years and I'm still mourning and wishing. Really? Sure, even the best of parents have their moments of wanting to go back to the glory days of kid-less freedom, but for me it's obviously more than that. I'm so consumed with my agenda that I consider taking care of these two babes "little kid crowd control." Let me find a way to maintain the people but also accomplish things. Knox, please stop crying so that you get good sleep and are able to be calm and not miserable - but also please stop crying so I can sleep or eat lunch or clean or sew new pillow covers because the pillow situation on our sofa is grating at my every nerve. And God forbid you wake your sister because if I lose that nap time then my to-do list really has no hope. Because if I lose nap time that means I only have after you two go to bed and I've showered and done the millionth load of laundry and picked up all the nanimals off the floor and pumped. Oh the pumping! By that time I have nothing left to give, not even to the dire pillow situation.

My emotions start flying off the handle. In part because I wonder why oh why my baby can't gather himself and calm down and get good sleep for his sake, but also in part because I just want to do what I want to do, what I need to do.

I literally just used choice words and tone of voice in pure confession to Jeremiah during a baby crying sess lasting well over an hour. Frustrated because for four nights in a row I've sat down to write and gotten nothing done because of all the distractions. I closed the computer on yet another failed night.

But thanks to my social media addiction I emotionally self-soothed on Instagram immediately after our conversation to find this Holy Spirit kick in the pants. Someone posted this artsy little quote:
Children are NOT a distraction from more important work, they are THE MOST important work. - C.S. Lewis (aka my least favorite author now)

BAM. And crap.

I often wish God would send visible signs (preferably with flashing lights) to tell me what I need to do with my life. There may not be lights, but tonight God clearly sent me an electronic sign - an Instagram post with His voice reminding me of who He's created me to be and what He's called me to do today. I'm a mother who needs a lesson in distinguishing wants from needs in life; a mother trying to serve two masters and failing miserably; a mother who has been given two kids to love like Jesus, who needs to focus on Him to find the strength and power to do that well. Because there's a whole lot more importance and life and eternity in these two innocent little gifts from Jesus than there is in throw pillows.

five weeks

...and two days, whoops.

That's how this week went. Crazy times with Jeremiah back to work full time and me at home with both kids alone. Let's all take a moment and pray against lifelong trauma for either one of them. Knox made me lose my mind completely at the beginning of the week with his refusal to settle down and nap. I mean it was bad. In the midst of the relentless crying I got to the point of scrolling through my mental rolo-dex wondering who I could call to come save me this kid from being thrown across the room. I swore one of us wouldn't make it alive to greet Jeremiah home from work. But we did, and what a greeting it was. Ground zero baby. Me on the sofa holding Knox in the chest carrier and Surrey glued to the TV. 

Thankfully, by the end of the week I gained a little confidence after so much trouble shooting. And fortunately, Knox only really freaks when he needs to settle down for sleep. We think he wants to be held constantly. Poor guy. With each cry sess, a bit of trauma I had tried so hard to block out comes sneaking back in. Surrey cried all the time. It didn't matter if she was eating, trying to sleep, being held, etc. She just screamed.

Here's to week six being one of empowerment and sleep! Fingers crossed!

Just nap, child, and you won't need to yawn so much (and neither will I).

four weeks

The fourth week of homeboy's life has proven jinxing to be a real thing.

At the beginning of the week we sent Surrey to her grandparents' house for a few nights, (1) because she loves it there and (2) because us parents were itching for a little break, especially with Jeremiah going in to work a couple days. Being that Knox had been so angelic, I anticipated a bit of relaxing and of course a lot of crossing things off the to-do list. Welp, famous last words. Knox has decided to cry and scream for forty-five minutes to an hour before finally settling in for a nap - every time. Previously, we were able to just plop him down - swaddled of course - and it was lights out. Life just got a lot harder. Thankfully, he's still sleeping well between feedings at night. Dang it, jinxed again.

I've also learned the hard way that unlike his sister, being in the car seat and running errands does not lull him to sleep or keep him calm and maintained. Target was a battle ground on Monday morning. What has always been a place of comfort and competency for me became a place of distress and embarrassment. Child didn't stay asleep while in the car seat in the cart and then decided to start screaming mid-trip. I was that woman with the crying baby. Ultimately, I resorted to removing him from the car seat in the coffee aisle (how fitting) and swaying and shushing the crap out of him til he calmed down. At that point I proceeded on to checkout, pushing the loaded down cart with one hand and holding him in the other. 

If it were anyone else, I would have told them to abort mission and head straight home for sanity's sake. Oh but not me. Right next door to Target is Hobby Lobby and you better believe I chose that location because of the strategically placed retail. I had a list, after all. Idiot. Same scenario played out again. Lesson learned - never leave home without the chest carrier and let go of any and all expectations in life.

Needless to say I got back to the car sweating and exhausted and didn't get close to purchasing everything I had came for. Let the good times roll.

In other news, baby boy has had some serious diaper rash issues so Jeremiah took him to the pediatrician today. Upon arrival they noticed he still has semi-yellow eyes and a tan face (as evidenced in the picture) and sent him to get jaundice blood work. I don't even know what that means but hopefully it's all good. And hopefully he starts looking more like his family soon, instead of someone from across the border.

This photo really accentuates his large, tan head and his skinny, pale froggy legs. 

risky business

Feast your eyes upon the crazy wall. It's risky, all of this stuff. 

The new rental has barely any full walls. Sounds funny, but truly they're a hot commodity around here. The bedrooms all lose wall space to bifold closet doors or windows. The living room literally does not have a single full, blank wall. There's a half wall, windows, a kitchen pass-through, and a fireplace. With all of the wall openings, things have the potential to get a bit busy because you're looking at multiple rooms or multiple views at one time. 

Example, this one side of the living room. We're battling a huge doorway to the eat-in kitchen, another substantial kitchen pass-through window, and an adjacent opening/half-wall to the entryway. Also, there's a legit vaulted ceiling, meaning the walls are extra tall.

All the dilemmas - eat-in kitchen view, pass-through window to the ultra retro kitchen, half-wall.

I spy the shed from our old rental, truly right next door.
 

A decorating dilemma to say the least. For awhile there was just the coral chair and the desk with the clipboards. (I love a good clipboard wall hanging. Funky and functional. Hoping to replace these cheap-o ones with legit boards with the chunky clip one day. Oh, one day.) I sit across the room on the sofa the majority of my days staring at this wall. The blankness, while safe, was so blah and stark. It needed some oomph. Like the clipboard thing, I also love a good frame wall. With a lack of wall space I've been brainstorming where I could sneak one into this house. I toyed with the entryway for awhile, but because of some horribly inconvenient air intake vents, we decided we'd try this narrow, tall span of wall. It's decent, but that left the other side feeling ultra bare. I knew I didn't want more frames or rectangular things. And remember, I'm working with what I have. So hello paint chip wreath, I hope you won't look lost on that wall.

View from the front door entryway.

The temptation is to wait and wait until I find something nearly free at a store to put up, or to leave it blank for fear of cluttering the walls, or to just throw something up there and live with it awhile and see. We went with the latter. The Nester's mantra kept playing in the back of my mind. It doesn't have to be perfect to be beautiful. It has to be us. Safe and blank is not how I want my home to feel. I also don't want it to feel overstimulating, so it's a balancing act. So, we'll see. But for now, this is it. And I really mean for now. That green floor lamp has moved back and forth about twenty times since we've moved. My mind is constantly going and reconfiguring. Whose wouldn't when glued to the sofa feeding a newborn for an hour a pop? Nearly an hour! The agony!

Now, on to updating the pictures in those frames. 

the boy's room

With Surrey away at my in-laws' for a couple nights and Jeremiah counting down his final hours of summer break, we are busting our tails to get as many things squared away in the new place as possible. The first week we moved in we made big time progress, but things have slowed down a bit lot with a newborn and a toddler and no live-in grandparent help. Nevertheless, it's coming along. As you know by now, I'm certifiably insane so I am moving things around every free moment I have. Every time Jeremiah comes in from outside something is rearranged. I mean, really, every single time.

Knox's room was no exception. It took me a long while (this entire month we've been here) to feel settled on furniture placement and decor for the most part. Of course, this entire place is still a work in progress. One huge thing you'll see lacking in every inch of this house is paint. Right now there's flat white paint on every surface (other than those hideous kitchen cabinets). Actually, I'm not sure it's even paint - I think most of the trim is seriously just primer. This painter was clearly over it. 

Here's the view when you walk in the room. We reused the curtains my mom made from our old condo's guest room, which happen to be the same fabric as Surrey's curtains but in a different color scheme. Jeremiah's excited to have a place to display his cherished childhood football cards and some other memorabilia. We've got a loose blue/green theme going on in here, with a few jolts of yellow and orange to keep things interesting. 

Also from the condo's guest room we carried over a bit of a Penn State theme. You Hokie fans aren't the only die-hards around here. The pictures in the frames above the crib are from my brother's old calendars. So vintage, so special, so awesome.

And check these homemade touches out. The trophy figure hooks are killer. I had pinned something similar before I was even pregnant and not too long before Knox was born I consulted my mom about it. You may or may not know that in my high school glory days my summer job was making trophies at my mom's work. Like a boss. I asked her to gank some extra figures from the shop, and of course she went way beyond. Her and my dad went all out and made the whole set of hooks. Da bomb.

As I did for Surrey, I made Knox a little mobile. Sidenote, how in the world is that word supposed to be pronounced? Mo-beel? Mo-bull? Mo-bile? Who knows. Regardless, another pinned inspiration was a mobile with paper airplanes. After a lot of failed attempts, I finally figured out a right size paper and a right way to fold the airplanes. I almost gave up after an entire naptime's worth of trying. I'm so glad I didn't though because ultimately I think it's so cute. Jeremiah asked if I was going to start selling them on etsy (since that's where the inspiration came from) and I said a big fat hail no. Because it may look easy but it was a huge pain. And true to my crafting form, by the end of it I ended up having to throw on some scotch tape to hold things in place. Not perfect, but you can't tell unless you closely inspect. Or unless you read it on a blog. Sheesh.

And to keep things real, here's a work in progress shot of the closet. Because this house has next to no storage, here's my craft chifforobe (apparently it's a technical term) shoved into Knox's closet, doors removed. It holds my sewing machine and all my extra fabrics and craft supplies. A baby's room may not be the logical place to house these things, but it's my only option. At some point I think I'll grab a tension rod and some canvas and make a little curtain for above the chifforobe to hide all the diaper storage. Not pretty.

We're working with what we've got in this house, people. My eyes are always peeled for a good clearance item or bargain to add to our space, but for the most part it is a bunch of me shifting and tweaking things we already have. We're broke. But this guy is none the wiser for it.