home tour

{tv trays scream elegance, do they not?}

{no, you cannot have our green stove}

{don't be fooled by the cactus. it's dead.}

{sheba has her own little corner}

{the bed has not been made as nice since the cuteness came along}

{all for the cuteness}

my boys

I had forgotten what it was like

to grow up in my household—“household” meaning my dad, my mom, and myself.  Oh, and don’t forget the cat.  I am surprised that I even survived. 

Here is a sample of my family’s craziness:

My dad discovered  GarageBand for the first time this morning.  In the midst of his throat-gurgling, falsetto-slaughtering hilarity, my mom walks out of the bedroom, wieners curls and all, and cries, “Harley, you sound like Sesame Street on crack!”

The sad thing was that it was true.

Oh, how I love my family.  I hope that Judah learns to be as laid-back and jovial as my parents are.  Really, being serious is seriously boring.  I wouldn’t trade my memories of my perfectly composed wild dancing dad and my docile and serene practical joking mom for anything.  And I don’t think I'm really THAT strange because of it.  (You don’t have to comment on that.)

---

{Judah update}

After much deliberation, Joey and I decided to go ahead and buy a manual breast pump. Ohmyword what a good idea that was!  Make what jokes you will about me being a human cow, but this little gizmo is revolutionizing our feeding process, letmetellyou!

For example:

• we didn’t have to stop to breastfeed our baby on our trip to Weyburn
• I actually KNOW that Judah is getting enough to eat
• Joey gets to share in the joy of feeding our child
• AND I’m increasing my milk supply!

All around, this is a superb change of events for us.  We are looking forward to next week’s check-up.  Keep praying! 

I leave you with a picture of my handsome husby and his charming little munchkin. 

drum-roll, please

Okay, everyone, Judah gets weighed today.  Thanks to those who have prayed.  I'm anxious--I definitely want to see a bigger number today!  Joey and I think he's chubbed up somewhat, but I don't know if we see it because it's actually there, or because that's what we desire most in the world right now.  I'll keep you posted.

----
{update}
The results are better, but still not the best.  He only gained 3 ounces (but I don't necessarily trust the scale), which is about half of what he should be gaining.  Now I have to actually devote 99% of my time to breast feeding.  As in my baby, who takes 1 hour to eat, needs to be fed every 2 hours.  And nap times need to fit in there somehow.  And I won't let myself nurse him to sleep.  And he needs time to be stimulated by yours truly.  So, I hope husby is willing to cook and be content with myriads of dust-bunnies dust-cats, because life is nearly going to go on hold for a little while.

You know what? I'm starting to get really worn down by the bajillion different "proper" ways to raise my child.  I don't even know what I'm supposed to do anymore.

The scary thing is that I'm starting to lose faith. I don't want that.  I want to keep trusting God because I am convinced that He is the only one that actually knows the perfect parenting process.  I need to trust in Him continually.

Prayers appreciated.

judah's bane

I admit that my last post was a little bit melancholy. 

To lighten the mood, I will share with you the Cute, the Fun, and the Sleepy.

{the Cute}

{the Fun}

{the Sleepy}

{Oh, and the WhyIOtta}

oh my baby, why the fuss?

After a refreshing internet break, I am back.  Well, sort of back.  I’m only on the internet because I need to email some camp shirt designs to our printer.  But, since my internet is deathly slow and the upload will take DAYS (that might be an exaggeration), I figured I’d take the opportunity to write a short update.

Things in this crazy house have been, well, crazy lately.  At the urging of my husband, my friend, and my mom, I went on a women’s retreat a couple of weekends ago.  Judah was doted on by 20 different ladies the whole time, and HE LOVED IT.  He handled the trip way better than I expected—and by that I mean that he went to sleep without fussing every time I put him down, he slept all through the night, and he was even happy to let people other than myself hold him.  I really felt like we turned a corner in this little gaffer’s career.  Things were looking up.

Or so I thought. 

How’s that for an ominous overtone?

Judah has not been weighed in 4-5 weeks.  We just assumed that he was doing well because of how happy he’s been lately.  I mean, come on, a smiling baby is a healthy baby, right?  And those 0-3 month sleepers? Yeah, they’re totally becoming yesterday’s news.  Things MUST be going well.

God orchestrated a timely appointment for my baby boy.

Our public health nurse phoned me up two days ago and requested that Judah come in for a weight check.  Because we are without a scale (except for the Wii fit, which hasn’t seemed too appealing of a pastime lately), I was happy to drive to MacGregor for the check-up. 

Things were going well.  PHN was pleased with his interaction, his habits seemed normal, and, let’s face it, he just looks so happy!  We stripped him down to his birthday suit (sorry, bud) and set him on the scale.  I was busily cleaning up his soiled diaper when I heard it:

“You weigh 10 pounds, 1 ounce!”

“Uh…” ahem ahem, “that’s, uh, less than he was before. Yeah. Uh, 11 ounces less than he was 5 weeks ago.”  My mother’s heart was going pitter-patter, letmetellyou.  How could my baby have dropped weight? Isn’t he supposed to be growing? What in the world am I doing wrong? IS HE GOING TO DIE?!?!?

Things are so much scarier when you’re a new mom.

PHN informed me that I have not been feeding my baby enough.  Ouch.  That’s a blow.  I feel like I have been starving my baby.  I haven’t, I swear.  I’ve tried so hard to set up routine for baby, to make sure he has good long feeding times, and to get him to sleep so he gets lots and lots of z’s.  And now I find out that my best just isn’t good enough. 

So, now we’ve had to completely rearrange our schedule, which means later bed times and earlier mornings in order to accommodate more feedings in a day.  The first day was hard—my body was used to being on a 3 hour schedule, NOT a 2.5 hour schedule.  There were many frantic baby moments that day.  And many frantic mommy moments. 

It’s not going too bad now, but I’m afraid, so afraid, that my baby is still dropping.  I am finding it very difficult to trust in God when I see my tiny little son suffer.  One more week of not gaining weight, and he will have that wonderful label tacked on him: failure to thrive.  No, not my baby!

I know that having a baby is the biggest test of faith that God has ever sent my way.  I praise Him for baby daily, which means that I should also trust baby with Him daily.  I am praying that God gives me the strength, and praying that my baby boy continues to grow—to grow into a man of God. 

I’ll keep you up-to-date on his well-being.