One of the many reasons I’m so thankful for Angie’s presence in Audrey’s life – arts & crafts! I have zero interest or talent in this arena. I never would have thought to have Audrey pick her favorite pictures out of a magazine and glue them on a piece of paper. What a perfect representation of her favorite things. Thanks, Angie!
We’re praying for you…
Prayers of gratitude for who you are and what you mean to us.
Prayers of thanksgiving that the cancer was caught early.
Prayers for help that God will work through the physicians and surgeons to bring you complete recovery.
Prayers of comfort and peace of mind for you and all who love you.
Prayers for healing that you will be healthy and around for many, many years to come and many, many more grandchildren to love!
We love you!
The first time your baby smiles at you…takes your breath away.
The first time you hear the word MaMa…music to your ears.
The first time your child says “I Ya Ooo”…priceless.
I hope that today is the first of many times I get to hear those sweet words!
Audrey and I took advantage of the unseasonably warm weather today. Only in St. Louis could it be 10 degrees one week and 75 degrees the next! After a nice afternoon nap, we headed out to the backyard for a little bubble blowing and swing set playing. Last fall, one of Justin’s co-workers offered us her swing set since her children outgrew it. It has since become one of Audrey’s favorite things to do. She loves to climb up the ladder and go down the slide, but her favorite thing is the swing.
Audrey didn’t like the infant swing when she was a baby, but she now has more than made up for the lack of early swinging in her baby days. As often as the weather allows, we make good use of our swings. Audrey matter-of-factly instructs me to sit on the “big girl” swing, while she gets settled in hers. We swing side-by-side, singing and chatting about what we see and hear in the great outdoors of our backyard.
Maybe it was the musty smell of early spring in the air or the rythmic motion of our swinging, but whatever it was I found myself going back about 20 years to the days when I would swing for hours, lost in my own thoughts and dreams. I remember when I was about 8 years old, we lived in a historic stone farm house out in the country in Huntley, IL, where my Uncle Clark and his family now live. This house was built in the 1800’s and was one of the first, if not the first, to be built in McHenry county. To this day, it has a gold plaque by the front door stating it’s historic significance. It’s out in the middle of farm fields and during the summer I would wake up and run out to our neighbor’s swing set to swing. Even that young, I was a very reflective girl and I would litterly swing for hours while I just thought about different things. I can see the white, fluffy dandelions sprinkled throughout the green grass, hear the sound of the wind rusling through the planted fields, and smell the crisp, fresh counrty air that enveloped me. I remember singing “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning” from the musical Oklahoma every morning while I swung. I guess even as an 8 year old girl, I recognized the beauty and serenity that I was experiencing on those quiet mornings.
I love to remember a lot of things about that farm house…
The stone patio that was tucked back around the corner of the house.
My tiny, yellow room that you had to step down into.
Cuddling with my sisters and parents because the house was so cold and drafty in the -0 degree winter months. Before the front room was fixed up, we actually had a plastic sheet hanging between that room and the kitchen to keep out the draft that would come in!
The mice that would run across your pillow, peak out at you from behind the TV, or jump out of the sweater that my Aunt Beckie was trying on – I don’t think I’ll ever forget seeing her standing on that kitchen chair yelling blood-curling screams!
The dirt floor basement with antique treasures that I so wish I appreciated more back then!
The steep, narrow stairs we used to slide down in our sleeping bags. And the old man who showed up one day because he had lived in the house as a boy and remembered one of his parents teaching him to tie his shoes on those very stairs.
The old barn with the holes in the floor to throw down bales of hay. Watching my dad climb up into the silo.
Riding bikes up and down the long lane and in the massive white shed where the tractors were stored.
The horses and cows that lived in the barn. I’m pretty sure we named most of them, though I can’t recall now.
The massive oak and pine trees that were hundreds of years old.
My cousin, Gary, climbing up on the white, stand-alone cabinet in the kitchen in the middle of the night and a glass coffee pot falling and breaking on his head.
The jingle that my mom made up so we could remember our address. I STILL remember those jingles. I’ll never forget the addresses for the homes where I lived as a kid! Ask me to sing them for you sometime!
Our cocker spaniel, Sammy, who was run over by a car. I remember exactly how it happened. We were driving up the long lane returning from church and a strange car was sitting there. Two high school kids got out and went over to talk to my dad. I remember my dad coming over to us with a very sad look on his face and telling us that Sammy had been hit. It turned out that those kids were students at the high school where he was the dean. As I look back now, I think what integrity they must have had to stick around to tell a family they had hit their beloved dog. Dad buried Sammy in the field behind our house. After that, I’d look out into that massive field and imagine Sammy there watching over me.
There are so many things about that old house that I loved. And even though we only lived there for 3 1/2 years, there’s something about living in the country in an old home that made a lasting and unique impression on my soul.
Don’t get me wrong, I love the house we have now. I have put a lot of love and effort into making it a place that our family can call our own. But there’s truth to the phrase “walls can talk.” When you live in a home that has seen so much history and housed so many hopes, dreams, fears and sorrows, it seems that a part of each of the former residents remains. I don’t believe in ghosts per se, but I do believe that a home can retain some aspect of those that lived within its walls. There’s a mystery in knowing that so many lives were lived in that space. It fosters feelings of intrigue and creativeness (especially for a child) that a modern home just doesn’t have. I hope that somehow we can give Audrey a little taste of that kind of life – a reverence for those who came before us and a passion to live for the simple things. I haven’t thought about these memories in years…funny how a swing on a lovely, warm day can bring it all back…
Justin and I made it through our first vacation sans Audrey, but not without me shedding a few tears! Dan, one of Justin’s best friends, got married in St. Pete beach, FL a week ago. We flew down there so Justin could stand up as his best man. This trip had been in the works for over a year, so I had plenty of time to get used to the idea that we would be leaving Audrey for 4 days. Of course, that didn’t make it any easier when the time came! Justin and I had been away from Audrey separately for a night or two, here and there, but this was the first time we were both going to be gone together.
I had gone over the scenario many times in my mind. Logically, I knew that Audrey would be fine. My parents were coming to stay with her, so she would be in her own surroundings with two people who love her more than life, itself. But there’s something about knowing that you are going to be over 1000 miles away from your child that feels pretty much like ripping your heart out of your chest.
Do you know what the worst part was? It wasn’t actually being away from her, it was the anticipation of leaving her and knowing that at some point, she would realize that we weren’t coming back that first night, the second night or the third night. I knew I couldn’t prepare her for our sudden absence and I selfishly worried that she might actually get used to us not being there.
When I dropped Audrey off at Angie’s house that Thursday morning, I snuggled her close and tried to ward off the doubts that were running through my head. The tears welled and my heart broke. I knew I wouldn’t see her for 4 days, but to her this was just another ordinary day. Audrey is such a sensitive little girl and I just couldn’t bring myself to imagine what she would feel when she finally started to realize that something was amiss. I need not have worried.
According to my mom, there were a few moments when Audrey would suddenly looked sad with her wrinkled eyebrows and forehead, but luckily she’s still at that age where diversion is the miracle cure, so they were able to keep her busy and her mind off any worries that might have been lurking in her sweet little head. Nana and Gramps spoiled her rotten and they all had a grand old time! Audrey hadn’t forgotten us and she didn’t hold a grudge. She is still our happy-go-lucky angel, if not a tad bit taller and smarter!
Once I got past the initial drop-off and the anxiety ridden airplane ride (which, by the way, was the WORST turbulence I have ever experienced and I have traveled in ALOT of airplanes), I did manage to enjoy the trip. The wedding was probably the most beautiful wedding I’ve ever attended, Justin gave a moving toast, and we got to spend a lot of time with some of our great friends.
Even with the tears and heartache, I would do it again because it meant so much to Dan and Amy that we were there, but next time I think I’ll avoid the 2nd degree sunburn:(
The moral of this story:
1) Don’t worry yourself silly about things you can’t control
2) Your child will not forget you in 4 days
3) Make sure you don’t miss any spots when you are putting on sunblock or you will be in serious pain and look like a zebra!
Audrey’s half birthday was on Monday, which (according to my sources) means it’s officially time to begin the potty journey. The mere thought of this chasm of the unknown is enough to make me wish I had learned about infant potty training well before Audrey was 18 months old! Yes, you read right INFANT potty training.
As I tend to do with many of the big parenting issues, I was asking around to see how other moms began potty training their kids. I’ve learned this is one of the most effective ways to find out generally what really works and what doesn’t. Each kid is different, but at least it’s first hand information and not from someone trying to sell you something. Anyway, on Tuesday I was chatting with a church mom who has a daughter turning 2 next week. I asked her how she had approached the whole potty situation. She proceeded to tell me, a little sheepishly, that they didn’t really have to potty train because their daughter had been using the toilet since she was 8 months old! I think my mouth almost hit the floor. Apparently, she has a friend who is Chinese and she shared the Chinese method of infant potty training (also known as elimination communication), which often begins before the child is 6 months old. In China, and in fact many other countries including Italy, it’s rare to find a 12 month old baby who is still in diapers.
Being the research obsessed person that I am (I could spend 24 hours on the web doing nothing but researching various topics), I immediately checked into whether this IPT thing could possibly be true. It is! Unbelievable. Just google Infant Potty Training and you’ll get over 2 million hits. And to think of all the money I’ve been wasting on diapers! It may sound rather corny when you first hear about it, but I’m definitely giving it a shot with #2. It can’t hurt to try!
IPT aside, Audrey is 18 months old and here we are trying to introduce this whole potty concept. I’m hoping that what they say about girls catching on faster than boys holds true. Audrey definitely understands the concept of a toilet, but unfortunately it’s a negative connotation as evidenced by her saying “eww” each time she tries to open the lid! From what I’ve learned from other moms, the best approach seems to be to get a little potty chair and just make it a fun place to sit at first. The theory being that if they are comfortable sitting on it and don’t feel any pressure that the rest will come more naturally.
So, tonight I went out and bought the official first potty seat! Again, after much research and reading of product ratings and comments (long live BabiesRUs.com), we bought the Baby Bjorn potty chair . I brought it in and made a big deal about giving it to Audrey. I wish I had it on video – she gingerly squatted down to sit on it, pulled some toilet paper off the roll and reached back pretending to wipe her little behind! At least we know she’s been paying attention!
I think the potty is a hit…each time she walked by the bathroom tonight, she made a pit stop just to sit on her throne! I’m a little nervous, though, about what her reaction will be the first time she actually does something in her potty. This is the girl who was traumatized for days the first time she saw her poop (granted it was an unexpected bath experience). We’ve got the books, we’ve got the potty, and we’ll keep you posted!
We attended a funeral yesterday. Sadly, it wasn’t Audrey’s first funeral, but this time she understood that something very sad had happened. Justin’s step-dad’s brother, Uncle Ronnie, passed away last Friday. He went to the hospital for surgery and never woke up – he was only 63 years old.
I only met him a handful of times, but it was obvious by the turnout at his wake and funeral that he had touched the lives of many. He was a son, brother, husband, father, grandfather and soon-to-be great-grandfather. Watching his mother grieve the loss of her child, was heartwrenching. All I could think and pray was that I would never have to see one of my children buried. Rationally, I know that I will one day leave my physical body and enter the gates of heaven, but I seldom think about it or dwell on that reality. Days like yesterday don’t give you any choice but to do just that.
There’s something about the human spirit, though, that just astonishes me in times of grief. Amidst the sorrow and tears, there’s always the celebration of what was and the hope for what is to come. Uncle Ronnie is in heaven, this his family knows without a doubt. What a comfort that is, what peace that knowledge gives. I’m glad that when I go, my family will have that same comfort – a promise of my eternal happiness beyond our ability to understand. And, I’m glad I have the same knowledge about them. When you think about it, that’s really the best gift we could ever give our loved-ones. The knowledge that we are redeemed and will one day be restored to the perfect life God intended for us in the very beginning.
The promise of eternity in heaven doesn’t change the fact that we’re given the gift of life here on this earth to put our fingerprint on the lives of those around us. If death teaches us anything, it’s that we have to live every day like it’s our last.
Sometime during my college years, I wrote the following personal mission statements. They remind me why I’m here and what God has called me to do.
– To wake each and every morning filled with the promise of a brand new day overflowing with possibilities to live as God’s child and to be a blessings and witness to others.
– To seize the moment and take notice of all the blessings, goodness, and beauty that God has granted me.
– To care for my body, mind and spirit. Always remembering that God created me with a specific plan for my life.
There’s a beautiful song by Mark Schultz called “Time That is Left.” If you haven’t heard it, you need to. Here’s a link that will let you hear a short audio clip. I’ll leave you with the lyrics because they wrap us this post better than I ever could.
What will you do with the time that’s left?
Will you live it all with no regret?
Will they say that you loved till your final breath?
What will you do with the time that’s left?
Oh, Hallelujah! Oh, Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Amen
What will you do with the time that’s past?
Oh and all the pain that seems to last?
Can you give it to Jesus and not look back?
What will you do with the time that’s past?
Oh, Hallelujah! Oh, Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Amen
What will He say when your time has come?
When He takes you into His arms of love?
With tears in His eyes will He say well done?
What will He say when your time has come?
Oh, Hallelujah! Oh, Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
It’s funny (or not so funny, depending on your perspective) how Audrey has started asserting her independence. We’ve always been able to depend on her eating habits. The girl is like both of her parents – she LOVES to eat. When we ask her if she wants one of her favorite foods (anything sweet) she clenches both of her fists in the air and squeezes them so tight that her little arms shake as she says “ohhhh!” with eyes wide as can be. One such favorite food is mandarin oranges – at least they are on a “normal” day (whatever that is).
I was going through our morning routine with Audrey, getting her dressed and feeding her a breakfast usually consisting of a cereal bar or toast and some type of fruit, when I made the new-mommy-of-a-toddler mistake of making a big deal out of giving her the mandarin oranges. In my naive mind, it made perfect sense to oooh and ahhh over the fruit that I knew she loved to eat. THIS morning, however, Audrey was determined to take a stand and assert her own brand of stubbornness. As soon as I plopped those oranges on her tray, she turned into the orange nazi. How DARE I think that she would want to eat this fruit that just the day before she had devoured in mere seconds. Oh, no, THIS day, Audrey decided that oranges didn’t belong on her tray, they didn’t belong in her hands and they DEFINITELY didn’t belong in her mouth. Being just as stubborn as she and determined not to let perfectly good oranges go to waste, I promptly announced that I would pack them in her lunch so she could eat them later.
When I dropped her off at Angie’s for the day, I shared the breakfast drama and warned Angie that she may not be too fond of the oranges that day. So what does the little stinker do at lunch? According to Angie, she refused to eat ANYTHING BUT THE ORANGES!
We’re slowly learning that the key to living with a toddler is to just go with the flow. It makes Audrey feel so “grown-up” when she can decide what she does and doesn’t want to do. I’ve learned to ask her what she wants instead of assuming. That’s probably a lesson I should apply to more of my relationships. Thanks, Audrey, for keeping us on our toes!
I’ve often felt as though I have a split-personality. The perfectionist, high-achiever on the outside and the disatisfied, always-yearning-to-be-someone-else on the inside. It’s not unique to me, this tension of good & bad that is constantly at war within each of us, but maybe I’m more sensitive to it than others. At any rate, I feel like the mythical pixy is a great representation of that tension in my life.
From Peter Pan “Tink was not all bad; or, rather, she was all bad just now, but, on the other hand, sometimes she was all good. Fairies have to be one thing or the other, because being so small they unfortunately have room for one feeling only at a time. They are, however, allowed to change, only it must be a complete change.”
It’s exhausting to feel as though you can’t let people see who you really are inside. To privately have thoughts, desires, and experiences that are at odds with your public persona or who you think you should be. Sometimes I wish I could be like the fairies described in Peter Pan – to be either ALL good, or ALL bad, instead of this limbo that exists somewhere in the middle. Saint and sinner all at the same time – in Christ, that’s who we are. No matter how hard we try to be good, we fail. No matter how much we sin, we’re forgiven and made perfect in God’s eyes. It’s the miracle of grace, but it also accounts for the frustrations of living every-day life as a Christian in a sinful world.
We’re all struggling to make the most of life. To do the best with cards we’ve been dealt. My dad tells me that all myths are firmly rooted in truth. The mythical pixy is how I see myself – I’ve always related to the Tinkerbell character in Peter Pan. A mischievous creature with the outward appearance of an angel. She makes some bad decisions and some good decisions, but in the end all is well. It’s the ying and the yang of life. Pixy Mom is my outlet for expressing my every day trials and triumphs. Enjoy!
For MONTHS we’ve had a battle of the wills when it was time to do laundry at our house. As soon as I opened the dryer door to begin loading the wet clothes, Audrey would emphatically slam the door shut. This scenario would always end up with me strategically placing one leg between the dryer door and the dryer so I could keep it open with just enough room for me to shove the clothes between. All the while, Audrey was stubbornly pushing the door against my leg with all her might to try to show me that she WOULD have her way.
Needless to say, laundry time was nothing to look forward to (as if I EVER did look forward to it). So one day, a few weeks ago, I got the brilliant idea to let Audrey help me put the clothes in the dryer. PURE MAGIC! I finally realized that all Audrey wanted was to be involved. She really didn’t care whether the dryer door was opened or closed, she just wanted to participate.
It may seem like an insignificant thing (or terribly obvious to the experienced mom), but it really made me aware of just how much it means to Audrey when she gets to do things with me. Somewhere along the way, she became a little girl, no longer satisfied to sit by and observe. Since then, I’ve seen the same behavior played out in a hundred different ways. It’s not WHAT we do or even HOW we do it, it’s that she feels special when I involve her – when I acknowledge what she is capable of. Now, if I can only get her to do the dishes!
I love that I was able to spend so much time at my Grandma and Grandpa Borhart’s farms growing up. It taught me a lot about hard work, but it also taught me about enjoying the simple things in life. Picking pea pods out of the garden and eating them right then and there, seeing the morning glories bloom in the day’s first sunlight, playing in the sheets and towels hanging on the outdoor clothesline, bringing Grandpa and Uncle Clark their afternoon snack and ice-cold bottles of 7-Up, trying to stay away from the electric fences, playing in the barn, climbing up on the hay bales – always cautious of the holes in the barn floor. And sugar cookies…lots of sugar cookies!
This past weekend, my friend Angie and I decided to have a Christmas cookie making party. What made us think we were going to do this with a 3 year-old, 16 month-old, and 6 week-old, I don’t know! Actually, it was very fun and in addition to the yummy cookie dough and great company, it brought back a lot of fun memories about Grandma Borhart.
You see, most of my sugar cookie memories seem to have taken place at Grandma Borhart’s. When I was in kindergarten through 4th grade, we were lucky enough to live in the same town as Grandma and Grandpa and we went to their house before & after school. I remember making LOTS of sugar cookies at their house. It was one of my favorite things to do there and I now have new appreciation for Grandma’s patience with us during our sugar-cookie baking time!
As I was rolling out sugar cookie dough this past weekend, while trying to keep little hands out of it, I realized that while I’m sure Grandma had other reasons for making those cookies, she must have mostly done it for us. A simple recipe with lots of love is worth the mess, worth the time, and makes great memories! As I continue on the path of motherhood, I hope that I can remember to stop and smell the sugar-cookies a little bit more often. Audrey deserves it!
Audrey told me her first lie the other day. I know you’re thinking…”she’s 16 months old and can only say one cryptic word at a time, how can she lie to you!” Well, I wouldn’t have believed it, either, if I hadn’t been there myself.
I was folding clothes on our bed and Audrey was playing on the chaise lounge in our bedroom. She was telling me she wanted to get down by saying “up, up, up!” In case you were wondering, in Audrey speak “UP” means up, down, in, out, and any other verb that describes a position other than her current one. Anyway, I was ignoring her, hoping to ge the last of the towels folded and because I KNEW that as soon as I got her down, she would just want to get back up! So, pretty soon, she started saying “ewww” and pointing to her diaper. As any mom does to avoid unnecessary messiness, I immediately scooped her up to get the dirty diaper changed. When I did, she turned around with a coy smirk on her face that said something like “haha, Mom. I got the best of you!” Sure enough, when I looked in her diaper, it was as clean as a whistle. The little stinker knew that if I thought she had a dirty diaper, I would get her off the chair, which is what she wanted in the first place!
It makes you stop and think. The innocence of babyhood is so quickly replaced by inevitable sinful human nature. You look at your little baby and think there’s nothing on earth they could do wrong. I guess they probably look at us the same way. One day, if she hasn’t already, Audrey is going to realize that I’m not perfect, either.
A parent’s love for their child, in spite of their faults, is the closest thing to God’s love for us on this side of heaven. Both are loves that transcend human understanding. What a gift to get to experience them both on a daily basis!