I have a confession to make: I have no idea where this blog is going. Seriously, I don't. It started out as simply "a thing to do", suggested to me by a relative over at Mission Musings, who has been blogging a lot longer than I have. She gave me one piece of advice that I have tried to hold to: keep your background light. But that's completely beside the point.
a post in which I am mentioned far too much
Friday, September 24, 2010
Hello, fellow bloggers, readers, and those who popped by for a quick visit. I really don’t feel like myself today, probably because I’ve been busy for the last three days straight. Okay, I realize that some (most) of you are thinking “big deal”, but for a stay at home mom who actually stays at home most of the time, that’s a lot. It hasn’t been all bad, though—Judah has gotten a lot of sweet Daddy time. Today’s post, however, is not about me.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
I have so much on my mind today that I just need to get out. I'm going to attempt to make this post as coherent as possible.
On Friday an aunt of mine passed away. She was suffering from severe diabetes (whether type one or two, I am not sure), and in very great pain.
On Friday an aunt of mine passed away. She was suffering from severe diabetes (whether type one or two, I am not sure), and in very great pain.
gets me every time
Oh. Man. Just look at that face! It gets me every time. The Cuteness has encountered a couple of big milestones in this last week. The first came with:
a)bright red rosy cheeks
b)diarrhea
c)insane diaper rash
d)Fuss (that word is actually to small and to polite to describe the Freaking Out My-World-Is-Ending Baby of Madness)
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Oh, readers, I'm so sorry for the blogging lazies that have set in. I'm not going to make any promises of future devotion because, quite frankly, then I'll just seem like even more of a jerk for breaking my promises. So.
This is really quite the busy season. But not really for me. Honestly, am I ever busy? I mean, yes, I'm busy all the time taking care of my babe(s?), but as far as All Those Things With Which Adults Fill Their Time (whatever they are), my schedule is quite free. The biggest thing on the agenda this month is my friend's wedding. This particular wedding was widely speculated by pretty much the entire community of MacG, and thus the celebration before said occasion is, ahem, substantial.
Oh, weddings. How... quaint they are. Now that I'm married, they don't seem quite so magical as the once did. You know, once upon a time when I was a doe-eyed beauty dreaming of my Prince Charming. And now? Well, I've had a baby (I look it) and Prince Charming is mine. Weddings. They once was aaaaaallll the rage.
I was taking a walk down memory lane (ugh! did I actually use that droll saying? and who says droll??) today, reading through a few of my pregnancy posts and looking at all of Judah's Brand New pictures. Friends, it made me want more. MORE. BABIES. Actually, what that little side-trip did was make me extremely thankful for all that God has done in my life. Where He's led me. Who He put in my life. Reminiscing is truly an amazing gift that we humans are blessed with. We can remember! It's awesome.
Alright, I sense a lack of focus here. Howz aboutyou and me go get us a sodie pop I just stop rambling, yeah?
This is really quite the busy season. But not really for me. Honestly, am I ever busy? I mean, yes, I'm busy all the time taking care of my babe(s?), but as far as All Those Things With Which Adults Fill Their Time (whatever they are), my schedule is quite free. The biggest thing on the agenda this month is my friend's wedding. This particular wedding was widely speculated by pretty much the entire community of MacG, and thus the celebration before said occasion is, ahem, substantial.
Oh, weddings. How... quaint they are. Now that I'm married, they don't seem quite so magical as the once did. You know, once upon a time when I was a doe-eyed beauty dreaming of my Prince Charming. And now? Well, I've had a baby (I look it) and Prince Charming is mine. Weddings. They once was aaaaaallll the rage.
I was taking a walk down memory lane (ugh! did I actually use that droll saying? and who says droll??) today, reading through a few of my pregnancy posts and looking at all of Judah's Brand New pictures. Friends, it made me want more. MORE. BABIES. Actually, what that little side-trip did was make me extremely thankful for all that God has done in my life. Where He's led me. Who He put in my life. Reminiscing is truly an amazing gift that we humans are blessed with. We can remember! It's awesome.
Alright, I sense a lack of focus here. Howz about
Friday, September 10, 2010
Allow me to introduce you to a good friend of mine.
This keyboard has been with me ever since I was an awkward eighth grader. I've spent countless hourspounding tenderly pressing it's shiny (plastic) keys. It's brought me through five grades of piano just as well as any real piano would.
I seriously love my piano. Even though it's just a keyboard, the key action is almost identical to any acoustic. It makes my heart happy that it's mine and that I can take it with me anywhere.
You would understand my disappointment, then, when one of the beloved keys started to stick.
And then another.
And, btw, these keys are probably the three most played on a piano (Hello, the D after middle C? It makes the other keys jealous!)
It started about two years ago. Silly me, I had always assumed that there must be dirt in there hindering movement. Thankfully, I didn't attempt taking it apart on my own. I just let it sit there... and get worse... and worse.
Until yesterday. That's when I decided that I would finally do something about this little problem. First I started by typing "sticky keys Yamaha P-120" and clicking "Google Search". I didn't find any tips, BUT, I did find rumors that there was an unofficial "recall" on select Yamaha models. Dare I hope?
"Call Gord, and you might like the answer!" was what I got when I contacted the store where my piano was purchased. Call Gord I did, except I got his wife instead. I presented my plight and hoped against hope that I might just catch a break...
Gord's wife called me back about an hour later saying... (drum-roll, please)... YES! YAMAHA WILL REPLACE YOUR WHOLE KEYBOARD FREE OF CHARGE!
Oh. My. The excitement! That's at least $600 that I don't have to pay! And my piano isn't even under warranty!
Old friend, you're about to get a face-lift.
The moral of the story: Not all internet rumors are lies.
The End.
This keyboard has been with me ever since I was an awkward eighth grader. I've spent countless hours
I seriously love my piano. Even though it's just a keyboard, the key action is almost identical to any acoustic. It makes my heart happy that it's mine and that I can take it with me anywhere.
You would understand my disappointment, then, when one of the beloved keys started to stick.
And then another.
And, btw, these keys are probably the three most played on a piano (Hello, the D after middle C? It makes the other keys jealous!)
It started about two years ago. Silly me, I had always assumed that there must be dirt in there hindering movement. Thankfully, I didn't attempt taking it apart on my own. I just let it sit there... and get worse... and worse.
Until yesterday. That's when I decided that I would finally do something about this little problem. First I started by typing "sticky keys Yamaha P-120" and clicking "Google Search". I didn't find any tips, BUT, I did find rumors that there was an unofficial "recall" on select Yamaha models. Dare I hope?
"Call Gord, and you might like the answer!" was what I got when I contacted the store where my piano was purchased. Call Gord I did, except I got his wife instead. I presented my plight and hoped against hope that I might just catch a break...
Gord's wife called me back about an hour later saying... (drum-roll, please)... YES! YAMAHA WILL REPLACE YOUR WHOLE KEYBOARD FREE OF CHARGE!
Oh. My. The excitement! That's at least $600 that I don't have to pay! And my piano isn't even under warranty!
Old friend, you're about to get a face-lift.
The moral of the story: Not all internet rumors are lies.
The End.
Thursday, September 02, 2010
Oh, Little One. How I love you.
I love the way you feel against my chest, your fuzzy head beneath my chin and your face burried in the crook of my neck. I love the way your tiny little fingers touch my face and hold on to my hand. I love how you cling to my shoulder and take in the sight of all the world from the safety of mum's arms. I love your chubby thighs, wrist rolls, and squishy cheeks that push your little lips into an almost constant pucker. I love everything about you.
I love how you are finding your voice. Your squeals and jibbers fill the house with joy. I love it when you speak out your thoughts, even though I don't know what you are saying. I love it when you say "dadadada" when you're carefree (and perhaps slightly bored) and "mamamama" when you need comfort. And, oh, do I love your giggles (and especially the sighs after the giggles). I love how you respond to my voice with contented little noises. I love everything about you.
I love you with your daddy. Especially with your daddy. I love how you two find each other so incredibly funny. I melt when I see you and Daddy reading a Bible story together. I die when I watch you cuddle. I love that you have no fear in his arms, and that he will always protect you. I love how strong he is and how weak you are. I love everything about you.
I love how you're learning to entertain yourself with moving around. I love how determined you are to discover every facet of your home. I love the fact that nothing is safe from your unsatisfiable curiosity. I love it when you tug my pantleg and give my toes sloppy wet kisses. I love how proud you are when you accomplish something new. I love everything about you.
I love how you should be sleeping right now, but we're at Grandma and Grandpa's house and they can't possibly let you lie awake alone. I love that you're sitting on Grandpa right now and patting him affectionately. I love that you have all your grandparents wrapped around your little finger. I love everything about you.
Oh, Little One. Today you are six months old. You've brought me so much joy, and there is yet so much more to come. My Little One. How could I love you any more?
I love the way you feel against my chest, your fuzzy head beneath my chin and your face burried in the crook of my neck. I love the way your tiny little fingers touch my face and hold on to my hand. I love how you cling to my shoulder and take in the sight of all the world from the safety of mum's arms. I love your chubby thighs, wrist rolls, and squishy cheeks that push your little lips into an almost constant pucker. I love everything about you.
I love how you are finding your voice. Your squeals and jibbers fill the house with joy. I love it when you speak out your thoughts, even though I don't know what you are saying. I love it when you say "dadadada" when you're carefree (and perhaps slightly bored) and "mamamama" when you need comfort. And, oh, do I love your giggles (and especially the sighs after the giggles). I love how you respond to my voice with contented little noises. I love everything about you.
I love you with your daddy. Especially with your daddy. I love how you two find each other so incredibly funny. I melt when I see you and Daddy reading a Bible story together. I die when I watch you cuddle. I love that you have no fear in his arms, and that he will always protect you. I love how strong he is and how weak you are. I love everything about you.
I love how you're learning to entertain yourself with moving around. I love how determined you are to discover every facet of your home. I love the fact that nothing is safe from your unsatisfiable curiosity. I love it when you tug my pantleg and give my toes sloppy wet kisses. I love how proud you are when you accomplish something new. I love everything about you.
I love how you should be sleeping right now, but we're at Grandma and Grandpa's house and they can't possibly let you lie awake alone. I love that you're sitting on Grandpa right now and patting him affectionately. I love that you have all your grandparents wrapped around your little finger. I love everything about you.
Oh, Little One. Today you are six months old. You've brought me so much joy, and there is yet so much more to come. My Little One. How could I love you any more?
Wednesday, September 01, 2010
Ever since the Cuteness was born, I've felt like many of my talents have been put aside so I can take good care of my favourite little person (note the use of the word little. My husby is my favourite big person--he's a bit less demanding). I'm really not bitter, though. Motherhood is a joy that not all women have the privilege of experiencing, and I'm far to aware of this fact to take it for granted. I trust and hope that God will always set me straight when I start to view it as just another task to complete. He already has.
This may be a grossly over-stated fact, but life changes when a baby comes into the world. It's not just the getting up in the middle of the night to change a screaming baby's diaper. It's not the stiff neck, the sore back, or the dirty laundry. The biggest change comes when you realize that there is another living being that depends solely on you for everything. I'm not just talking food and a clean diaper, but love, discipline, language, manners, opinions, attitudes, dispositions, beliefs, experiences, and encouragement. An innocent little child is a perfect and terrifying mirror to hold up to oneself.
A few days ago as I was attempting to get Judah ready for the day, I turned my back on him to riffle through a stack of his shirts for just the right one to complete his little outfit. His happy little coos made me smile, and I momentarily forgot that my baby can roll. As I turned around, I caught sight of my happy baby boy slipping off the bed and onto the floor. My heart jumped into my throat as I whisked him up into my arms. The tears flowed freely as I kissed his head and said "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry..." over and over again. His frantic cry seemed to say "I thought you were going to watch me. Always!" My poor, sad, bewildered little child.
Thankfully, there were no long-term consequences for my negligence, and hardly any short-term consequences except for two or so minutes of very sad tears. My action (or lack thereof), though inexcusable, was easily redeemed.
As a parent and a follower of Christ, I'm charged with the task of correctly caring for my child--that will definitely include how I watch over his spiritual welfare. Just as, at this point in time, I need to watch Judah with extreme care to keep him from harm unbeknownst to him, I need to show discernment in what influences I allow into the home (and when I say "I", I'm not excluding Joey from the task). This is the way I see it: as of now, Judah is ignorant of the evils of the world. He doesn't yet know what could hurt him, and he doesn't yet have a concept of right and wrong. I know it's imposible for me to keep him entirely from all bad things, but what I can do is help teach him the skills he needs to make right choices. Joey and I are responsible for that, to be sure.
I don't want to be so slack about "this whole discernment thing" that Judah comes to have a wrong view of who God is and what His holiness actually means. We need to be as shrewd as snakes, but as harmless as doves. The worst possible end to life on earth would be if my son was left, poor, sad and bewildered, asking, "Why didn't you tell me? I thought you were going to watch me. Always!" while I recall a lifetime of lukewarm faith, complacency, and compromise.
So, getting back to my first thought about setting aside talents, I've decided that it is no bad thing to be devoted to my family. If I can be known for anything, I would rather have it be for how I loved my family rather than how I could decorate my home, or complete DIY projects, or knit beautiful sweaters, or paint beautiful pictures, or make beautiful music. Those are all secondary to the joy and privilege of being a mother. May I never find this privilege burdensome, never lose sight of my Saviour, and NEVER stop fearing the Lord.
This may be a grossly over-stated fact, but life changes when a baby comes into the world. It's not just the getting up in the middle of the night to change a screaming baby's diaper. It's not the stiff neck, the sore back, or the dirty laundry. The biggest change comes when you realize that there is another living being that depends solely on you for everything. I'm not just talking food and a clean diaper, but love, discipline, language, manners, opinions, attitudes, dispositions, beliefs, experiences, and encouragement. An innocent little child is a perfect and terrifying mirror to hold up to oneself.
A few days ago as I was attempting to get Judah ready for the day, I turned my back on him to riffle through a stack of his shirts for just the right one to complete his little outfit. His happy little coos made me smile, and I momentarily forgot that my baby can roll. As I turned around, I caught sight of my happy baby boy slipping off the bed and onto the floor. My heart jumped into my throat as I whisked him up into my arms. The tears flowed freely as I kissed his head and said "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry..." over and over again. His frantic cry seemed to say "I thought you were going to watch me. Always!" My poor, sad, bewildered little child.
Thankfully, there were no long-term consequences for my negligence, and hardly any short-term consequences except for two or so minutes of very sad tears. My action (or lack thereof), though inexcusable, was easily redeemed.
As a parent and a follower of Christ, I'm charged with the task of correctly caring for my child--that will definitely include how I watch over his spiritual welfare. Just as, at this point in time, I need to watch Judah with extreme care to keep him from harm unbeknownst to him, I need to show discernment in what influences I allow into the home (and when I say "I", I'm not excluding Joey from the task). This is the way I see it: as of now, Judah is ignorant of the evils of the world. He doesn't yet know what could hurt him, and he doesn't yet have a concept of right and wrong. I know it's imposible for me to keep him entirely from all bad things, but what I can do is help teach him the skills he needs to make right choices. Joey and I are responsible for that, to be sure.
I don't want to be so slack about "this whole discernment thing" that Judah comes to have a wrong view of who God is and what His holiness actually means. We need to be as shrewd as snakes, but as harmless as doves. The worst possible end to life on earth would be if my son was left, poor, sad and bewildered, asking, "Why didn't you tell me? I thought you were going to watch me. Always!" while I recall a lifetime of lukewarm faith, complacency, and compromise.
So, getting back to my first thought about setting aside talents, I've decided that it is no bad thing to be devoted to my family. If I can be known for anything, I would rather have it be for how I loved my family rather than how I could decorate my home, or complete DIY projects, or knit beautiful sweaters, or paint beautiful pictures, or make beautiful music. Those are all secondary to the joy and privilege of being a mother. May I never find this privilege burdensome, never lose sight of my Saviour, and NEVER stop fearing the Lord.
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