Seven Months

This will be a little scatter-brained. Because I'm tired. It's your fault.

You turned seven months on Friday. I guess six months seemed more momentous at the time, though this has been a pretty big month for you. You are dragging your (not so little) body all over the place, necessitating multiple lint rollings every day. When you see something you want, you go for it. I often find you under Daddy's desk, trying to pull at the cords. You're getting up on all fours now and rocking, but you haven't really tried to take your first crawl steps. I'm guessing it will be in the next few weeks (or hours--you seem to like to reach major milestones just after I've blogged).

You've been a little less content this month. While you are a happy, happy baby who loves a good giggle, your noises have tended toward frustration of late. I think it's just that you are very close to crawling, and it bothers you that you can't do it quite yet. Soon, my little love, soon.

You stopped sleeping through the night around the beginning of the month. I gotta admit I miss it. It's a sweet blessing though, to cuddle with you in the wee hours. It's the only time you'll sit still enough. Getting out of bed is the hard part.

Two of your bottom teeth just cut through. I think that's why you stopped sleeping. This too shall pass. I have to remind myself that this is only a season.

It's been a month of changes: new foods, new teeth, new mobility. There have been some growing pains; that's just part of it. I am, however, totally in love you with you, little man. You are so fun to cuddle, nuzzle, and giggle with. But there you are again, calling for me. So I have to go.

Love you--

Mama

Halloween

We took Ava trick-or-treating for the first time tonight. She was a little timid, but a big fan of the candy. As was her brother, actually.

Timmy getting into the candy. Don't worry, he didn't ingest any. But he tried.

My little fairy.

Ava's friend, Bella. Tutus are apparently the thing this year.

Me and my little Timmy Bear.

Goebberts

It's October, and that means it's time for pumpkin patches. And as pumpkin patches goes, nobody does it better than Goebberts. If you live in the northwest suburbs of Chicago, it is required that you visit at least once in the fall. I know. Everyone was there the day we went. We managed to get some nice pictures though. Enjoy.

The patch.

This was way too big for her. But she insisted.

Family Portrait

My boys.

Dear friends.

Dear Ava,

You are two and a half today.

It's amazes me when I see your brother struggling to crawl to think of how far you've come. You've already grown and changed so much. There are some things I miss about that age: you, snuggling into my chest; you, trying out new noises; you, being all simple. But I love so much seeing who you are becoming.

I love hearing your thoughts (they're funny), seeing you move the chair around the house to get whatever you want whenever you want it, singing with you, dancing with you, cooking with you, giggling with you. I like teaching you things (except to use the potty. That stinks). Most of all, I love getting to know you. You are beautiful, my dear. I love your spirit.

Speaking of spirit--you are a handful. Always into something, always dramatic, always ready to throw down if you don't get your way. I believe this is, in part, due to the fact that you are two and a half. I have to keep reminding myself of that. But I believe that your personality, in general, is bent a little more toward stubbornness and, well, passion. One of the funniest things you do at the moment is tell yourself to "BREAVE! *gasp* BREAVE! *gasp* BREAVE!" when you are throwing a fit. It's downright hilarious, dear. I try not to laugh, but sometimes it's really hard.

Some moments you are more challenging than others, of course. It's part of this thing. But you are so, so enjoyable, my love. You love people. You love to talk. You charm everyone. We really wonder where you came from. We know the answer, of course. From a wonderful and gracious heavenly father. He knew that we would love your antics, your fiery red curls, your fiery personality. He gave you to us, entrusted you to us. And my prayer these days is that we would be faithful. That He would do the work in your heart, that He would soften it, redeem it, and all for His glory and your good.

I love you little girl. Even when you're throwing fits. Even when I'm changing the umpteenth poopy diaper. Even if you break my heart. I love you forever.

Mama.

Chain-o-Lakes

The weather has been beautiful here. Cooler weather and fall color has been teasing us for a few weeks. I love it. It's cool enough for long sleeve shirts, but not so cool as to drive us indoors. It necessitated a partial day off for Daniel last Friday, and we went to Chain-o-Lakes state park. Here's the pics:

With her Daddy.

With their mommy.

It was all yellow.

And little boys too

Thank Heaven...

...for little girls.

Six Months

A very merry half-birthday to you, my dear Timothy. These last six months of knowing you have filled me with overwhelming joy for the riches of God's blessings. It's hard work, having you. It takes me to the end of myself. But I'm pretty sure that's a good thing.

You are so much like your sister. You look like her, laugh like her, squirm like her, and fight sleep like her. You have your differences too. You are huge. I know I say this every month, but really, are your bones made of lead? And you are strong. It constantly amazes me that I have a good hundred pounds on you and yet have a really hard time keeping hold of you. As much as your mommy hates it, you will probably be a football player.

You are grabbing everything: hair, neck flesh, ears, glasses, plates, and more. When you want something, there is really no keeping you from getting hold of it. It's really pretty exhausting. You just started scooting yourself all over the place. I don't think I've ever seen a more determined child. I'm sure the twos will be fun.

Naptime is still a bit of a challenge. I have a hard time getting you to go to sleep because you'd much rather play peek-a-boo from behind the bumper pad. And I would much rather play peek-a-boo and be giggled at than make you go to sleep. Your delight at seeing me gives me so much joy.

We just started you on solid food yesterday. Man, were you ready. You were in your walker while we ate our dinner. Every time I lifted the fork to my mouth, you screamed at me. I immediately got out the rice cereal. You were so enthusiastic, you refused to wait for me to put the spoon in your mouth. You nearly grabbed it out of my hand. Somehow, I don't think you are going to be getting smaller any time soon. You make me laugh.


Your sweet coos, giggles and smiles add so much joy to my life. I love you, and I'm looking forward to watching you grow. May God grant me grace to parent you well, show you grace, and point you to Jesus.

I love you, Tim-Tim.

Mama

I'm not cool

I'm not. I got called a nerd a lot in school. I never got invited to a single party in high school or college (God's grace, I believe). I was always kind of a goodie-two-shoes, teacher's pet, make-everyone-happy kind of girl.

And now: no body piercings, no tattoos. I still wear boot cut jeans and t-shirts most of the time. I don't play a musical instrument, and I'm not particularly creative. I don't listen to indie music (unless someone points me to something good), and I kinda don't like my Mac. I stutter when I'm nervous and am pretty shy by nature. I'm a stay at home mom. I drive a minivan (and I like it, which I believe seals the deal). I'm most definitely not a hipster.

I go to a church full of really cool people. Scores of (really good) musicians, an artist, photographers, graphic designers, a pro-football player, a counselor, and at least two people employed by Apple. They wear skinny jeans and black glasses and have fohawks and facial hair. They are spontaneously funny and sound pretty natural when they say things like, "that's how I roll." All of them cooler than me.

But you know what I love about our church? It doesn't matter. I believe it is the first time in my life when I haven't felt excluded because I'm a dork. I fit in. You know why? Because I love Jesus, and I love the gospel. It's changed my life. We have that in common. They let me be a part of a weird team. It's beautiful.

Paul describes the church as a body. We don't function well if we are all eyes and no ears, all hands and no feet. We are designed to be different, to complement each other, and to be used by the Spirit in different ways. If we follow his metaphor, I'm probably the nose that's a little stuffed up. I'm so grateful that though I may be "less presentable" (or at least less cool), I'm still invited into community with those who are more so.

"Ava with the Crazy Hair!"

Slide + Static Electricity + Red Curly Hair =