She Might Look a Little lIke her Mommy

He's his biggest fan (Ok, not really)

Timmy figured out how to stand up last night. We were so excited. You see, my little guy is big. And strong. A brute, really. This makes him really hard to carry, so any closer we get to walking is worth celebrating. So we did. Every time he stood, we'd yell, "YAY!" and clap. So much so that he started to think that clapping is what he should do when he stands. So funny. So cute.

Introducing...

Naomi Rahab Popp

4/18/2011

Our new niece is petite, beautiful, laid back, precious, cuddly, and sweet. Her parents are blessed. She is blessed to have them.

Spring. Sort of.

Living in Chicago, I have discovered that it's not intensity of the winter that bothers me. Oh sure, I'm not prone to leave the house with my young ones if the wind chills are below zero. But I have honestly thought a 17 degree day rather warm.

No, it's the length of the winter that's hard on me. March and April are the two hardest months. Once it hits 50 degrees, I want it to stay there. Which it never does. Observe.

This spring has been especially long in coming. It's been cooler than normal for Chicago. The tulips and daffodils we planted last October have pushed up through the ground, but have been in a stand off with the weather. They have budded, but refuse to bloom. Cold rain has kept us indoors. Sickness has kept us isolated. We are ready for warmth on our skin, new life for our souls.

I, too, feel as though I am battling a winter in my soul. But, in my heart, a stirring. A faith that I am on the brink of God's glorious spring. That out of this death will come life. God in his mercy gives us physical reminders of spiritual truth. I need them.

Fearless Tim

We took the kids to the park the other day and discovered that Timothy has his father's adventurous spirit. He's definitely in love with the slide.

All together at first.

Just with sister (getting a little lead on her).

All by himself now.

Whee!!!

Strong Hands

It's my party and I'll...

1. Run with balloons.

2. Wear zebra print, fairy wings, a tutu, and black icing.

3. Eat my first cupcake.


4. Hang with my friends.

5. Accessorize.
6. Open my own presents, thankyouverymuch.

7. Soak up the love.

Nipped

Dear Ava,

Last night at dinner, on eve of your third birthday, I looked at you and was struck with disbelief yet again. I leaned over and asked your Daddy, "Can you believe she's ours?" Like so many other things in my life, you seem too good to be true.

"I know," he replied. "If she wasn't ours, I'd be jealous."

That pretty much sums it up, my dear. We are completely smitten with, impressed by, and in love with you. So indulge me for a few minutes as I tell you a few of the reasons why.

You are beautiful. Your Daddy often confesses to me that he is intimidated by your beauty. Your smile, those dimples, big hazel eyes and curly red locks ("orange!" you insist) captivate us. And your beauty is more than just outward. Despite your occasional rebelliousness, you are most often delightful to be around. I can see even now how God will use and redeem your spirit. I pray that He will every day, entrusting you to the only one who can accomplish it.

You are charming. Your outgoing, pleasant nature draws people in, Love. We cannot go to the grocery store without making new friends. In fact, most of the friends we have are our friends because you introduced us. Multiple people have told us that you make them want to have children.

You are dramatic. You often surprise people when you announce: "This is my concerned face." You can pull almost any emotion out at the drop of a hat. Sad. Mad. Hurt. IRATE. It's really quite difficult not to be amused by your flair for the dramatic; I fear I don't do a very good job. I need to remind myself that it won't be cute for long. I'll have to work on my poker face. Can't have you turning into a diva.

You are funny. You say countless funny things every day. Like today, when you told me that sunshine hurts your feelings. Or yesterday, when we had a talk about authority and you told me that God put you in charge. Oh, and "God said sit right there, Mom." Or we told you that disobedience wasn't funny and you looked at your Daddy with a straight face and asked if poop was funny. Again, I have to work on the poker face.

You are smart. Lately, you've been reciting books to yourself. I'll come into a room to hear you reading yourself "A Treasury of Curious George" or "The Mixed up chameleon" verbatim. It's such a pleasure to hear your small voice speaking in paragraphs. Your drawing skills are improving too. Until just recently, it was hard to get you to draw anything. Suddenly you are drawing people with arms and legs and facial expressions. I think you were storing it up until you could make it look like you wanted. So you're a bit of a perfectionist. You come by that honestly.

You are mine. You are so, so enjoyable, my love. You shower me with affection, make me laugh, make me proud. But the biggest, most important reason that I love you is that you are mine. God gave you to me. Nothing you could ever do could shake the fierce, unconditional love I have for you. It is my earnest and daily prayer that my love for you would mirror of a more perfect, gracious Love than I could ever muster. Ultimately, I pray that you would rest in God's love for you--that He would draw you up into Himself and into joy. I love you so much, little one. Happy birthday.

Mama

Three.

Today you are you! That is truer than true!
There is no one alive who is you-er than you!
Shout loud, "I am lucky to be what I am!
Thank goodness I'm not just a clam or a ham
Or a dusty old jar of sour gooseberry jam!
I am what I am! That's a great thing to be!
If I say so myself, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!"
~Dr. Seuss, Happy Birthday to You