Thoughts of a nursing mother

There is just something about nursing a baby. Something like glue, and prayer, and song, maybe even a kiss. A little like those things but totally and completely it's own. And Nursing dashel breaks my heart. He has wriggled his tiny hands to the top of his swaddle and if I hold one I can feel the little dimples in his knuckles and his unbelievably soft fingers. Somehow his hands seem smaller in the dark. The gentle tug of him at my breast is comforting and adorable and something only another mother could understand. His little tummy is pressed against mine as we lay down in the center of the bed. Daddy has volunteered to sleep in the living room in a bed all to himself... And for this little stage of midnight feelings we're all happy with the arrangement. Two chubby naked feet, free from his blanket, paw at my thighs. The sounds that I'm hearing are so sweet and I think over and over how I never want to forget them. "Uhhh shhhhh, ugh shhhh" as little puffs of his breath touch my skin. "Uk ka-uk ka-uk" as he fills his sweet baby tummy. I suppose I don't have any words to put to how incredibly important this feels in my life. The experience of breast feeding, and especially at night, has seriously given me the peace I need to make it in motherhood- a quiet moment ( ok A LOT of quiet moments) to meditate, to thank God for this chance, to will my love into my babies spirit to let him know that I love him, want him, and will always do anything for him. I think all mothers can relate to this, but not a day go by that I don't thank my Heavenly Father that my body has the health and ability it needs to do this. It seems a miracle to me and one I don't ever want to take for granted. So here's to not forgetting and enjoying those little puffs of baby's breath forever. But I know that someday all I will really remember is that nursing was hard sometimes, wonderful most of the time and really there was just something (holy) about it.

R for Real: Being Cool

WARNING: it is late and this is not gramatically correct- peace.

Tonight Andrew, me and the kids went to our friends the Alexander's house to enjoy some really great live music. A wonderful way to start the summer; there were cupcakes, a bongo drum, twinkle lights, new grass, and glimpses of Oliver getting married. It was only him holding little Amelia's hand walking in the lawn and galloping up to us with an enormous smile but it was enough to make me think of pretty much the rest of my life.  Ah those moments always surprise me whenever they waltz by.

By the time we actually got into the car, down the long road home, into the house, pj-ed the kids and I laid down to nurse Dashel it was almost 11pm. And then the thoughts came.

I dont know how many nights I've laid awake in the quiet, late at night, and just read the stories in my head. Stories about the day, the faces of my children, the exact sensation of nursing a sweet baby, the way my heart hurts when I confess my fears to my husband, or the simple life that is a flower peeking over the fence. Everything comes in a story, in words streaking across my eyes and I just lay there forming exactly how they should come out. How would i describe this? Or that? Have you ever had a fight and not known what to say only to find the right words haunt you later that night? Well thats pretty much it...I talk to myself until I get it just right. AND THEN:

I throw it away.

After i finished feeding Dashel and he was fast asleep, I walked down the hall to the kitchen with heavy feet.

"is it stupid I want to do something?' I ask.

"what do you mean" 

"like contribute, do something awesome. Is it stupid that i want to be cool?"

"no"

"does every one have this sick desire to be famous?"

"yes"

and so we have a conversation about how i have no idea what i want to really do but every night i stay up and think about writing of all things...i dont like writing and im not even good at it. 

I am a huge proponent of journaling, of writing your thoughts for posterity or yourself or whatever. But I just cant bring myself to do it. I've tried to dabble in it in the past (like on this blog) but there is something broken inside me that makes me choke every time I make a resolution to do it for real. the oddest part of it is when Im complimented on anything i immediately stop doing that thing. ALWAYS. And then tonight Andrew had a revelation

 "You're afraid of success. If you do something then maybe someone will like it. If you're successful then something is expected of you. If you do nothing its a lot easier to just keep doing nothing"

Here is my husband with the answer to why i never tried out for dance team, cheer, school plays in high school or in college, choirs, why i have a total panic attack when i have to speak at church or teach a lesson, or any other thing that would allow people to judge me- a sage he is.

And then Andrew ordered me to write b/c if i suck who cares, at least ill have gotten it out of my system. And so after a conversation filled with tears, confessions of feeling like a horrible mother, feelings of guilt and narcissism for even considering writing things about myself, blubbering over how ive never never never put myself out there and Andrew hugging me and telling me I need a creative outlet:  HERE I AM WRITING.  Its only one night so far, and its no composition or story but its something that i created. i wrote it, it came from inside my body and now it is spread (maybe a little like vomit) on this page and it totally doesnt matter that its writing, it could be anything but the point is that im doing it for myself: and if someone else doesnt like it THEY CAN SIT ON A PIN:)

B-B-B-B-Birthday!

To day was a wonderful day. Not because I stepped foot out of the house, because I didn't. It was wonderful b/c for the first day of my 26th year I was able to 1) sleep in a bit 2) send Oliver off for a date with dad and sleep all the while they were gone and 3) spend some time staring at my baby boy while big brother was taking a nap (rare). Oh and this was all made much more delicious by wearing a purple house coat the.entire.day.

But for the actual birthday I will leave this account for the vault:

Yesterday I went to lunch with my mom and sister and two the two handsome gents I spend all my time with. Oliver charmed the pants off the waitress, as usual, as I leaned over to Dashel and whispered "you are cute too!" For a birthday treat we went to an ice cream place that freezes it in front of you with liquid nitrogen. This was pretty fascinating to all of us but especially for Ollie, who spent his time running around like a crazy person BEFORE he got his ice cream, staring saying "hot hot" at the nitrogen fog, eating a bowl of ice cream entirely too big for him and running around like a crazy person AFTER his ice cream chasing the store owners kid saying "boy! boy!" This was all good fun, but the ice cream was a fail and ill stick to u-swirl. My mom and sister were lovely, however:)

We got home and all three of us had a lovely nap and woke up just in time for me to get ready for a date with Mr. Harrison. Oliver got to go out for pizza while Andrew, Dashel and myself set off for an unknown destination. We went to Pho Nouveau and the lady said "oh yes table for 4 reserved this way" I have to admit this is where I started to think of how to not let Andrew in on how annoyed/disappointed I was. I wanted some TIME ALONE WITH MY MAN, what the heck was he thinking inviting who knows who out on the one date we've had in forever!!!?  Well in walked our friends Matt and Ivy Walker and  I felt silly- my husband had a total score like a pro. We all had a very fun time with amazing food and lots of laughter and ended the evening with some shut -he-front-door good french desserts at Cafe de Paris. Sweet Dashel slept the entire time, waking only to tell us to get to our movie already. So we fed him, dropped him off with Meemah and hustled to the show. We saw kids getting all murderous in hunger games and the show ended with the grand finale of my boobs telling me to hurry home and feed the baby. I went to bed at 1 and felt very satisfied and accomplished.

It was all so much fun that I woke up with a birthday hangover, where my body tried to communicate that I am 26 now and therefore need to slow down and get to bed at a reasonable hour. But aside from that I can say that I am so happy to be 26. I've learned a lot in 26 years, chiefly that I have a lot more to learn. I have a gorgeous family that I LOVE TO PIECES and have access to as many beautiful, spiritual, funny, talented, kind and generally great people as I can handle. Here's to number 26, I think I'll save 30 for feeling blue.

New Year's Eve

I think Andrew is beautiful. 

Even though his family wasn't celebrating the new year moment (who's house we were at) and were busy all doing something in the living room, I stumbled in on Andrew opening up some sparkling cider in the kitchen. He counted down (even though midnight has passed), poured two glasses and smooched his girl all alone and it was perfect. I'm so glad he remembered what a sappy and traditional kind of gal I am and that I have a guy to humor me when I insist on seeing the world through romantic glasses.

Toxic

I just spent the end of the evening watching my husband chop fruits and veggetables. Maybe it's because I saw it as a visualization of what has been on my mind for the last few days but now I'm going off to bed feeling inspired.

Andrew told me today he is doing a week long detox before starting an exercise routine, to which I responded with "JEALOUS!" Seriously i'm so proud of him, he went off to the store and came back with a wicked bounty that made my mouth really pouty that it wasn't all mine.  Is is odd though that seeing him surrounded with all that delicious goodness, and knowing he was going to be eating it tomorrow, was really sexy? Yeah maybe.

Well, with it being the new year I've just been contemplating how much better the last what?, 2 days have already felt. Everything feels fresh and crisp and sweet and like I can't wait to just be thankful and partake of whatever- cause it feels like this bag of groceries is just going to be better than what I've been bringing home recently. Yeah as in I've been realizing just how toxic I've let my life become and considering I'm pregnant, this turning point could not be coming at a better time. I have been feeling so much guilt about being SOOO stressed, allowing WAYYY too much negativity (people/thoughts) in my life, eating SOOO badly and just not feeling like this kid is even getting a fighting chance in there.

Today however, instead of feeling guilty I'm just feeling better. Feeling better that each day is a new beginning and that it's never too late to do the right things, for yourself and for other people. We went to our last birthing class tonight and a video we watched about parenting made me feel that at least once the baby gets here I can do a pretty good job...well at least what came naturally with Oliver is what "they" recommend.

In a nutshell I'm feeling more positive that the Lord has his eye out for me and that instead of feeling like I'm drowning waiting on him to reveal his will I'll just enjoy the swim till then thank you very much. So I have my husband and vegetables to thank for driving my realization home: I love them both.

OLIVER TODAY:
Decided to dump out my purse. " Mama's purse, mama's purse" He goes down the stairs with it, we hear a door close, we see him pop back up the stairs, he looks sweet and says "put it back".  A few minutes later when we need to leave I go down stairs to search for it and find it not only in our room but hanging on the handle to the closet.  This kid is positively breaking my heart.

BABY TODAY:
Kicking like a crazy person- I LOVE it:)