play date

georgia has a best friend. and i have a wonderful friend that God conveniently brought to our base(with her husband, of course) within 7 weeks of our arrival here in summer 05 and He conveniently had her expecting her first baby just 7 weeks before me. it was her who accompanied me on "craving" runs and retail therapy. it was her who i spent countless hours devising plans to try and have a mandatory c-section before i knew the power of the almighty epidural. it was her who revealed to me within just a few hours of delivering mason that if she had only known what labor and delivery had really been like, she would have worried much much less (this was an amazing reassurance to my nervous expectant soul). yes, megan's life has been a great crystal ball as i watch her sweet mason perform what i know sweet georgia will be attempting in just a few short weeks. these two little ones love spending time together and playdates are always fun. here is a pic from today with mason reading gk a story...

ewww

disclaimer: this is not for anyone who has eaten recently, plans to eat anytime soon or who lacks a certain degree of tolerance for the "ewww factor".

the other night a collision occurred. a really disgusting collision. the worst of parenthood of both baby and dog collided in a horrible fashion. okay, it was trash day on friday meaning the trash can that we as in i usually dispose of all nasty (ie crap filled) diapers in was waiting at the end of the driveway to be picked up by our super reliable trashmen (they have really never missed a friday! amazing, i think) when we had a busy day of nasty diapers (see above definition of "nasty"). there must have been 5 good ones waiting deposit into the trash can. since the trash can was hanging out at the driveway, i continued to pile the "nasty" diapers outside the back door on the deck. not a huge problem, it was a high of 22 degrees with no chance of stench. at some point during the evening, i let abe outside and was busy feeding georgia dinner. abe decided that ringing his doggie doorbell incessantly would certainly give him the right to come back inside. part of me was just tired. part of me was irritated. part of me was on the "you can't make me open the door regardless of how many times you ring that bell" power trip. whatever kept me from opening the door and letting him in will only haunt me for a short period of time, im sure. eventually, georgia finished dinner, i let the firstborn back in the house and went about my evening until my better half got home from work. at some point (the details are fuzzy as i have blocked this traumatic event from my memory) i heard patrick open the back door and say "what the h*&% happened back here?" i thought to myself "hmm, who knows, wonder what it could be" before patrick said "there are a million pieces of diaper all over the back yard". oh my disgusting. how awful. my abraham had entertained himself and carried out his own "ill show you what i can do if you dont let me in the house when i ring my bell" revenge on the "nasty" diapers. i could just throw up thinking of him shredding the remnants of what i know to be filth filled gross things. would you believe that patrick actually went out there and carefully collected every last piece? reference this fact the next time i refer to him as my "better half" and you're wondering why. unbelievable. who knew parenting a great dane and a great baby could be so much fun??

the big 1 has arrived!

as i post this i am completely at a loss to explain where the last 12 months have gone. they have literally defied the parameters of time and flown by in record speed. it seems as though we should have been consulted in the matter before allowing our baby to turn a year old in a matter of what seems like only brief weeks. however, we weren't consulted, have no say in the matter and sound just like every other parent under the sun who longingly looks back rather than ahead. so, i will post a few photos of our little one and give you a play by play of our celebration (afterall, you've already had a detailed commentary of the past 12 months...). we decided the most important part of her turning a year is our major accomplishment. yes, pat and i, rookies and all managed to keep the peach thriving for the first 12 months. through nap battles, ear infections, and endless poops we maintained an unflappable demeanor. sometimes. other times, i was busy leaving voice mails for pat at work with georgia screaming her head off into the phone. i just wondered what time he'd be home to save me i mean for dinner. nonetheless, the year was marked with significant joy and unmatched gratitude that He allowed us to experience the privelege of parenthood. we never knew how much fun it would be and how the love we had for one another would grow exponentially when we had our daughter. it has been easily the most amazing adventure and i cannot wait for the next chapter. so, back to birthday night. we decided to keep it low key, just under 10 adults and 6 kiddos ages 3 and under. fun. i cooked dinner, we had cake, we marveled at the chaos, and we marked the event of friends sharing in the milestone with notes written for georgia to open years down the road. (we plan to do this every year). pat and i toasted ourselves to a job fairly well done and enjoyed a nice bottle of cabernet while recalling favorite memories from the past year. we read the birthday psalm as we call it, psalm 139 and gave thanks to God for knitting her together so perfectly, planning all of her days and blessing us with a beautifully and wonderfully made baby girl. here are the photos...

obviously, it is far more efficient to lose the hands and just dive in! she loved the banana cake and so did we.

D is for Don't Drink

this incident happened awhile ago, but it crossed my mind again this morning and i felt like sharing. have you ever thought you were really sick? i mean, like maybe something serious was going on with your health and you didnt want to acknowledge it because somehow it would give the thought some power and maybe make it more of a reality? so i was dealing that a few months back over the course of three weeks. i just felt terrible and i didnt want to talk about it and give it (meaning whatever illness i was most certainly facing) a voice. so, for weeks i endured strange symptoms like headaches and fatigue. the problem was that it wasnt consistent. some days i felt great, other days i thought i had mono (which i had once in college and was told you couldnt get twice). this went on for awhile when i finally couldnt keep it to myself any longer. about the 9th time i polished off a pot of coffee and then took a 2 hour nap when georgia went down, i decided it was time to share and request a little advice and prayer. afterall, what affliction could possibly cause this constant desire to sleep, headaches and all this after the coffee. i revealed my concern over my imminent decline in health to a friend and moved on. the following morning, i started my pot of coffee and began to place the hazelnut cream coffee back in its place in the freezer when i noticed a big green circle with a D in the middle. what in the explitive is that i wondered. i looked closely at the fine print and to my horror read decaffeinated. how in the WORLD did that get in my freezer and even more importantly how long have i been subjecting myself to this junk?? i immediately called my kind loving husband who had been alternating (inadvertently he claims) between the decaf and the regular for three weeks...just often enough to keep me in a constant state of withdrawal and in search of what illness might be slowly killing me. i suggested next time he forgo the torture of caffeine withdrawal and simply opt for rat poisoning instead. ah yes. the great news is im fine. the decaf has been safely put in the back of the freezer for entertaining purposes only and we are all back on the caffeine wagon, happy and healthy as ever.

the battle

i almost blogged a week ago about the ongoing battle brewing between myself and my beloved daughter, but thought better of it realizing significant milestones are only mildly amuzing to family and certainly the mundane aspects of parenting would be of no interest to anyone who did not have a role in creating her. since pat and God are up to date, i figured it would be pointless. however, given the challenges of today, i have decided to vent to whoever cares (which im already assuming is no one, so with low expectations, i can't be disappointed.) early in the week, circmustances prohibited georgia from taking her morning nap. it may have been work a couple of days or a worthless chiropractor appointment, (not entirely worthless for the chiropractor) or just a late start on one of our days, but today i was determined to right the wrongs of the week. today, georgia was going back to the nap routine and all would be right with our world again. right. so she woke up particularly early and i was even relieved, quickly fast forwarding a couple of hours in my sleepy brain realizing she would be "extra" tired for the revisiting of the morning nap. our morning was great. breakfast consisted of serious nutrition for the peach and fresh kona coffee courtesy of the uber thoughtful husband for the mama. i waited until she had that look in her eye and went through the whole prenap routine, 2-3 books, blanket, plug, sound machine and escape. our friends/best babysitters ever, paul and brooke know the routine...its just not that challenging and all who have had some experience know the drill. so, i closed the door and began the swift descent down the stairs back to my coffee and quiet time that awaited. within just under 3 seconds the crying began. and the screaming. and the heaving. and the chewing on her crib (our efforts to curb that behavior and resulting damage with tobasco sauce have been to no avail...please no one call dfs, but please call us if you have any brilliant ideas keeping in mind bitter apple spray is not safe for children..we read that fortunately right before we were about to spray down the crib). i tried turning down the monitor. okay, i turned off the monitor. after waiting quite awhile, i finally retreated to the shower where i knew i couldnt hear her and low and behold she was sound asleep when i got out. somehow my success left me feeling like crap. the thought of her crying herself to sleep makes me tense, edgy and sad. i rarely question my parenting, the daily prayers for wisdom give me a great peace and confidence knowing i am partnering with the Almighty and the husband He has given me. i could not ask for more. except for when she's crying. clearly she needed the sleep and she did sleep for over an hour. aha, i knew it. not ready to give up that morning nap. and yet, here i am in the afternoon and while the monitor is still on and i have checked on her twice, she is crying again seemingly through her entire afternoon nap. i was so guilt ridden, i even cracked open her bedroom door so that i could monitor her, to really make sure it was just her being angry and not hurt (you would think the latter was a distinct possibility if you could hear her) and that completely backfired. i was hostage in the hallway afraid to walk past the cracked door this genius had left open knowing that if she saw me, it was all over. anyway, as of this exact moment, there is nothing coming through the monitor. it seems as though she has given up and cried herself to sleep for the second time in one day. and this time she isnt the only one emotionally or physically exhausted. and she certainly isnt the only one who has shed a few tears.

lucky me

birthdays are a huge event in my family, a time for celebrating the day when God let one of His very own join our clan. for years i've determined that a day is simply not long enough to celebrate some special people in my life. i have therefore created the birthweek. an entire week devoted to wishing someone good wishes for the next year. cheesy and somewhat pathetic, i know, but a true statement. so, what does all this really mean?? well, my better half, bestest friend, helpmate, provision, and greatest blessing just had a birthweek. i figured its a great time to just reflect on God's goodness for bringing one of His most wonderful creations into my life and let all of you who haven't figured it out yet (meaning you have yet to meet patrick) what a really amazing person he is. i am forever grateful that our paths were orchestrated to cross and that i am able to share my life with him. i am amazed at his selflessness, his unabashed desire to serve others and the way he loves me inspite of myself at times. yes, God is good all the time and all the time God is good. it is easy to celebrate patrick and he is one of the few people i know who could ask for a birthmonth celebration. he is deserving, but would never accept it...unless it involved unlimited access to texas a&m updates and shiner bock on tap.

confession

okay, i am an adult. i am a wife. i am a mother. i am over 25 years old. not waaaay over, though. i have lived on my own since i graduated high school, (not implying i actually supported myself like so many of my friends), but i made my own bed (on days i thought there was a chance someone other than myself might actually see it). thats where this confession comes in. for the life of me, i cannot properly fold a fitted sheet. i went as far as to buy the issue of martha stewart's magazine that promised easy instructions, but quit reading after she mentioned using a folding table. who has a folding table?? another issue of real simple promised really simple instructions. right. i got as far as turning the corners inside out before crumpling the rest. i thought of asking my own mom, but as a person who irons her sheets, i decided she probably couldn't dumb it down enough for me to understand. when i buy new sheets (which is probably more often than the average soul...i love linens and have never missed a white sale) i slowly unfold the fitted sheet carefully inspecting the workmanship of the folder or the machine that stuffed it perfectly in that little plastic bag. still, without the piece of cardboard and sheet making plant worker, it always ends up the same. a crumpled mess, evidence of my frustration and lack of domesticity. is there any easy (easy is defined as not needing a folding table, piece of cardboard, iron or 20 minutes of my time) way of doing this or am i destined to always have bundles of fitted sheets piled, not neatly stacked in my linen closet?

gk rockin away

we gave georgia a rocking horse for Christmas. i admit it, i am trying to foster in her the same love of horses that i have. the rocking horse bears a strong resemblance to my thoroughbred i had growing up that i was able to compete with for a number of years. we took these photos of her tonight after taking her pathetic pony tail off the top of her head...it was still holding its shape and gave us a great laugh.

Merry Christmas

georgia is trying out her new rocking horse...and trying to take the bow out of her hair.

here we are on Christmas morning

I am the reason

for the season. and before you get all verclempt, know that you are, too. yep. both of us. the reason for it all. i know what you're thinking...me? the reason?? no way, thats not what my grandma's christmas pin says or the bumper sticker or the 36th email i was supposed to forward if i loved Jesus and wanted to keep the season from all those heathens trying to take it away. oh, the heathens, yep they are the reason too. this is not an original thought of mine although once i spent an ounce of time processing it, it seems blindingly clear. afterall, there would be no christmas if there was no birth of Christ. no celebration of His birth, His selfless sacrificial decision to leave the perfect bliss of heaven and communion with His Father to join the imperfect, ugly world in desperate need of His love. if we were not sinners, lost without the changing love of this Savior, He would have had no need to join the world as a man, living a perfect life and dying a horrible death for me. and you. and every other sinner. if it weren't for us, there would be no Christmas. no birth in a dirty smelly barn full of animals. no magi travelling to present gifts. no fulfillment of what God had promised so long ago. and while the season of Christmas and every other day should be marked with gratitude, wonder, adoration and awe that our God, the Creator of the heavens and the earth would love us enough to leave His place in heaven to live a perfect life tainted with real pain, temptation, heart break, love and selfless service, if we were not in need of His redeeming love as sinners, He would not have come. i have tried to think of that this season as my paths cross with people who have yet to experience His power, His love. they are the reason. we are the reason. maybe we would be better served to insert names of people to remind us of the grace given to us in front of "reason". like "guy who just cut me off in traffic is the reason for the season" or "uncle ed who is drunk and offensive at Christmas dinner is the reason for the season" or "woman abusing her kid at walmart is the reason for the season" or "osama is the reason for the season". if it weren't for them, needing the same gift of a Savior that we needed over 200o years ago and still desperately need today, there would be no Christmas. no lives being changed. no sins being forgiven. no promise of eternal life. how thankful am i that He came. that He saw our need and came because of you and me and for you and me. and we are forever grateful.
the following is from, "When God Whispers Your Name" by Max Lucado...
"If our greatest need had been information, God would have sent an educator. If our greatest need had been technology, God would have sent us a scientist. If our greatest need had been money, God would have sent us an economist. But since our greatest need was forgiveness, "God Sent Us a Savior", by Roy Lessin.
"He became like us, so we could become like him.
Angels still sing and the star still beckons.
He loves each one of us like there was only one of us to love."