Planting Seeds

I know I am thankful - greatful - for all that I have most every day.

But if I have to choose one thing, my most Thankful thing, it is this:

The snuggles.

They are better than I ever imagined.

Happy Thanksgiving.

The Softest of Chew Toys

Clare is a breastfed baby. 100%. I am exceedingly proud of this fact.

Grace was a fight from the start. It took weeks of coaxing and effort to get her to breastfeed. At 5 months old she starting refusing to drink again. I have no idea why I didn't just go the route of pumping and then bottle feeding her. I think I tried and just couldn't produce enough. I know I took that as some sort of misguided failure on my part, so when she wouldn't breastfeed I gave her formula. Honestly though, I think she preferred the formula. At 7 months old, she began rejecting me completely so I gave up the fight.

Clare will be 7 months old next week. A 100% breastfed baby. She will drink expressed milk from bottles, but she prefers me. She took to me instinctively after birth and has never looked back.

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From the stories I have heard, my birth was a traumatic one. My mom started hemorrhaging and was rushed to the hospital 5 weeks before her due date. Her c-section scar isn't the traditional hip bone to hip bone, it is belly button to pelvic bone, preformed without anesthesia.

She was unable to even consider breastfeeding me. It was 1978 anyway, so who's to say she would have even if given the choice. I do not question her decision at all. Formula was what was right for her to feed to both my brother and me. I really do believe that. It was my opinion before I ever had kids too. She, on the other hand, questions my decision to breastfeed at every turn.

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Tonight, I discovered that Clare has sprouted her first tooth.

(Have I told you what an amazing baby she is? I knew she was teething, I could feel the hard edges behind her gums. But this tooth- I'm not quite sure when exactly it popped though. Not a peep from her, just solid nights of sleep and smiles galore. Business as usual.)

I discovered it because she bit me while nursing. Hard. One little edge of one little tooth, but it did damage. She and I will have to work out a new system. I think it will involve nipple callouses and cold packs on my end, with impish smiles of apology on hers.

When I shared the joyous news of new enamel with my mom though, her response?
...So does this mean you will finally stop breastfeeding or is she going to still be nursing when she is in high school?

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I am lucky. I have supportive friends. The daycare teachers are beyond supportive, bordering on insistent. I work in a supportive environment. While many are surprised at my ability to keep a full time job and supply enough food for an ever increasing appetite, nobody seems to blink at the notion of my mammary glads fulfilling their intended purpose.

Nobody, except my own mother.

Hi, It's me.

So, I've once again been neglecting this blog.

This post? Well, I got my wish. It became permanent on my return to work after maternity leave. If you don't consider the 10 weeks that I took for maternity leave, I'll have been in that position for a year in 3 more weeks.

The downside? As a permanent position, it is a TON more work than I expected. I went from someone who checked her watch every 15 minutes, starting within an hour of arrivial, to someone who has on occasion just plain old forgotten to eat lunch all together. Hence, why there has been a lot less words floating around in this space lately.

The upside is great though. It's finally a position where I feel valuable. Where I feel needed. I spend my days coding web postings and fixing fixable problems and giving my opinoins and making sure 130 ducks are staying in their rows.

So please stay with me. I will be spurratic; spitting out words here only when I can no longer stand to keep them in my head, but I think about this site all the time. I write posts in my head or 1/3 of the way on my iphone while tucked into the back corner of a meeting, but they never seem to materialize here.

So much is happening, so fast in our lives. Grace is 3 and Clare is 6 months. They change everyday and I NEED to check in here more often, so I don't forget what was. That is the point of Make Time For Love anyway, right?

Fallen

Two and a half weeks have flown by since we lost Lil’ Rick.

Matt picked up his ashes from the vet yesterday. I guess they will mingle with my good crystal until spring rolls back around and we can give him a proper burial. Returned to the earth under rose bushes dedicated in his name.

He was such a part of our routine. The first few nights I kept calling him, annoyed that he didn’t answer.
‘Come on dude, it’s time to go out. I want to go to bed!’
I’d go to grab a cookie, to shake the glass lid that housed them to rouse him from slumber upstairs, and the jar would be gone from the counter top. I’d freeze, futilely fighting the burn at the back of my throat. He’s not coming downstairs because he is no longer here.

We were grateful that Grace really didn’t ask questions about Rick’s where-a-bouts. She would mention him in passing when going through lists of family and things that she loves.
‘We’re going to go to my happy birthday party. You and Me and Daddy and Clare and Maga and Unkey Jer and Ricky!’
‘Ricky isn’t going to your party Love.’
‘Oh. OK. He’s a dog. He can't go.’
And then she would start talking about Curious George or the leaves she picked up off the ground that morning or what she ‘wants for eat’ that night.

We didn’t correct her. It was still too hard of a thing, and we figured why bring pain to her if she’s not specifically asking questions. The other day she asked. Or she said something about him that made us think she should tell her.

‘So Grace, you know how you haven’t seen Rick in awhile?’
‘Yeah. Where is he?’
‘Lil’ Rick had to go away Love.’
‘Oh? Where did he go?’
‘Well, he was really old – way older than you or me or even Maga – and he went away and isn’t going to be able to come back anymore.’
‘Where did he go? I want him to come back.’
‘He died sweetie. You know how the leaves are falling off the trees right now? It’s because the leaves are old and the tree can’t keep them attached anymore. The leaves die. The tree has to let the old ones go. Ricky was kind of like an old leaf.’
‘Oh, OK…. Ricky fell off??’
‘Kind of Grace. He was old and tired and ready to go to heaven.’
‘Oh. OK. I will miss him. Can I have another cookie?’

She’s mentioned him in the same passing ‘things I love’ way a time or two since that conversation, but hasn’t really asked more questions about him.

Nor has she played with the leaves in the morning though.



Now what?

Shooting Stars

Gracie’s birthday – or the party on Sunday anyway – passed with a blur.

Literally.

We rented one of the carpet covered warehouse spaces filled with moon-bounces and assorted inflatable’s. Children flew from every corner and off every surface. Which is why, sometimes, they failed to bounce again without a brief interlude of tears.

See. Flying!

There is not a single picture that the party that is in focus.


OK - so this one is in focus- and it's climbing, not flying - but there was death defying tumbles (or belly slides) from the top rungs back to the base.

Even the birthday cake pictures are out of focus. Well, not the picture of the birthday cake itself. That is quite clear.

(Obviously)
And my Curious George efforts were very well received- only to be outdone by the birthday cupcakes that I made for school on Tuesday.

Never before has my baking received so many complements. I’m more of a savories chef due to my lack of belief in pesky things like measuring spoons / cups / and directions in general. Thank you Martha Stewart for the chocolate chip cupcakes with chocolate chip frosting recipe.

One Thousand Ninty-Five Days

It’s 4:47 PM. You are officially 3 years old.

Have I ever told you how much I wanted you? How much I desperately wanted you? How much I needed to have you with every cell in my body?

You name is not meant to be religious. Grace as an action, not a state of being. I meant it as beauty and light and movement. You know what though? You are my grace, my gift from God. You are my proof that He exists.

You run through this world now with such confidence and speed. You take death-defying leaps off furniture and climb nerve-racking heights up ladders. You know the world is yours for the taking, with the wide eyes and unfettered dreams of a child to make it happen.

You are 3 years old. Still in need of my snuggles and help with juice cups, but no longer my baby.

Strong and polite. Mischievous and independent. Proud and beautiful.

Perfect in every way.

Happy Birthday my Love!

Perfection in its Own way

I love the way copper petinas.

It becomes something perfect in the fact that it is now far from perfection. It is a grand visual of Matt and I: an ever-changing blur of color that doesn’t make sense in its beauty that only get better in time.

Happy 7th Anniversary my love. To a lifetime of aging together.

Big Things in Little Packages

Lil' Rick was the dog I didn't really want.

I wanted a BIG dog. A Great Dane or a Bullmastiff. Something that weighed as much as a human, could do some significant damage to an intruder and had a heart and spirit as big as their body.

Instead, we got a Corgi.

During the normal course of a work day we were usually offered Corgis' several times. See, a coworkers wife showed dogs. Think the Thanksgiving Day Westminster Dog Show. The people who trot the fancy dogs around the ring. That was what she did- she trained, groomed and showed fancy pedigreed dogs as a profession. (Yeah, a little crazy, I know.) Anyway, once these fancy dogs won enough blue ribbons to be dubbed 'champions' and then went on to breed enough future champions, they were often abandonded by their true owners.

Hence, our possession of Lil' Rick. Champion of Corgi's with a google-able name, daddy to many more little champion Corgi's, and master of none of the tricks normal people expect your dog to preform whe the phrase 'show dog' is uttered.

When we finally broke down and agreed to a visit to meet the dog selected for us. I was by no means enchanted with him.

He was released from the dog pens with a fury. He ran into the room with a streak of orange fur. He jumped on furniture. He jumped on people. I backed away and sat down in a chair. He spied me and ran full speed in my direction to cover me in Corgi kisses. But he didn't stop soon enough. He launched himself into the air and only stopped due to a nose to nose collision. The tip of his snout to the bridge of my nose. Oh-my-God did it hurt.

I didn't want to take him, but Matt was taken with him. One week later we brought home our 5 year old puppy. We weren't always the best parents.

Over the last two years, Rick started having old age issues. Cateracts, bad teeth, arthritis, hearing loss. Last Christmas he started coughing. Several hundred dollars in vet visits couldn't bring a diagnosis. Allergies? The medicine didn't work. Fungal infection? The antibiotics didn't help. Cancer? What was the point of more tests to tell us something we couldn't do anything about.

Over the last few months he'd taken to coughing under our bed at 2am. We started putting him in the laundry room overnight. We always felt horrible about it, but sleep in this house is a fleeting, precious thing.

Last night was Lil' Rick's final night with us. I'm glad he spent it under our bed. Today when Matt got home from work, Rick was cold. The wag of his happy old-man body was gone.

13 years old. 91 in dog years. That's a pretty good run. I hope the last 8 were his favorite.


We'll miss you Lil' Rick.

The Cut

Grace is 2 years, 10 months and 3 days old today. It is a monumental day. Her golden locks have fallen.

Gracie was essential bald until she as 1 year old. She didn't have hair long enough for pig tails until she was 2. There was never really any reason to bring out the scissors. Lately though, her hair has become a bit unruley. It looked a little bit like a overgrown mullet.

So I pulled out the bribes- Dum Dum lollipops. (that I *aquired* at a bank that doesn't hold one cent of my money. But my friends pennies pass through their door so I felt intitled)

We started slow. A lollipop for a trim of the bangs. I asked her if she wanted to cut all her hairs (as I do almost daily now) and she said no. Until that lollipop was gone. She wanted another one. How does a toddler aquire more candy? By sucumbing to parental pressure. Sure Mama, you can cut my hair if I can have more candy.

And so it was. I hesitated only for a second. I brushed her hair straight and steadied by hand.

Snip.

The deed was done. We were committed.

And I started to cry, but finished the job.

Bye-bye baby curls.

Childhood Dreams

Ten

Nine

Eight

Seven

Six

Five

Four- Manage and Start

Three

Two- Solid Rocket Ignition
One

------Space Shuttle Columbia has Taken Flight

Nature vs Nurture

A few weeks ago Matt was watching The Right Stuff. I could have cared less. It apparently was one of his favorite childhood movies when HBO would show the same 3 movies over and over and over again in the 80's.

(Although I wouldn't know that from experience. My family did have cable until the mid-90's. Not that I'm bitter or anything....)

Anyway - Matt was obsessed with the movie and space flight in general. His childhood dream? To be an astronaut. (I was much more realistic. I wanted to be a ballerina.) So in true Matt fashion, his obsession was full of books and studies on NASA and space craft and rockets.

As I've told you in the past, Grace also has an obsession with all things that move. This has only blossomed over the last year and has grown to include space shuttles now too. Watching the lift-off scenes of the movie was all it too.

Daddy, she begged over and over, again, again! I want to see it again!

And so he played the scenes over and over again for her. Then he pulled up shuttle launches on the internet, which fueled questions about what was happening and oh-my-goodness why parts were falling off??

So- this has become a regular scene at our dinner table. (Thankfully there is usually wine readily available.)

Did you know that NASA has had to cancel the space flight program? There are two more launches scheduled and then the flights will be part of history for the foreseeable future. So we have plans to do what must be done. To live out the childhood dreams of two of my loves.

We MUST go see a real space shuttle take off.

There will be picnics of hamburgers and juice boxes; dances of joy and sorrow; huddling for warmth and love on a beach in Florida this February.

And I can watch the sparkle in both their eyes.