Toes

Because of her big cloth diapers (and big belly), Emma is somewhat constrained and unable to reach for her toes when wearing them. Therefore, when she is getting changed and is diaper-less, she loves to grab them.

Six month pictures with Johnny Bear

Onto our monthly picture with Johnny Bear.

Taken on February 21, 2012 on Emma's half birthday.

I am not pleased with any of the pictures with JB, so I am adding a few others I took that day that I liked better.


Saying her "prayers" -- "Now I lay me down to sleep..." <3


Six month old happenings:
* Emma is now only waking up once during the night, normally at around 4 or 5 am.
* Her naps are scheduled and quite predictable -- 8:30 am, 12 pm and 4 pm.
* Unless her doctor recommends otherwise, I plan to continue exclusively breastfeeding her (no solids) for another full month.
* She now seems to be the most content sitting up. She is still unable to sit up on her own or remain like that unless we hold her or use the Bumbo seat.

Happy half birthday, Emma

Happy half birthday to my sweet Emma girl who is now six months old.

To celebrate this special day, I baked a coconut cake with cream cheese frosting, which I died pink, then cut it in half. Half a cake for half a birthday girl :)

The cake before it was cut in half.

Dear mother of only one child...

There is something uniquely difficult about being a stay-at-home-mom (SAHM). I don’t want to underestimate the hardship of being a full-time working mother, or a single mother (bless your heart!), but being a SAHM comes with it’s own set of struggles which are hard to put into words, let alone communicate to others.

I came across this article through a friend of mine. I read it with moist eyes, as my child fussed in her crib, fighting a much needed nap. The article spoke to me, but it also spoke about me. Someone had put into words what I had been unable to communicate.

Thankful for how encouraging the Lord has been to me.

I cut and paste the article below, because I know that if I just put the link, nobody will read it :) The link is at the bottom of the page.

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Dear Mother of Only One Child,

Don’t say it. Before the words can even pass your lips, let me beg you: don’t say, “Wow, you have nine kids? I thought it was hard with just my one!”

My dear, it is hard. You’re not being a wuss or a whiner when you feel like your life is hard. I know, because I remember having “only one child.” You may not even believe how many times I stop and reflect on how much easier my life is, now that I have nine children.

All right, so there is a lot more laundry. Keeping up with each child’s needs, and making sure they all get enough attention, is a constant worry. And a stomach bug is pretty much the end of the world, when nine digestive tracts are afflicted.

But I remember having only one child, and it was hard—so very hard. Some of the difficulties were just practical: I didn’t know what I was doing, had to learn everything. People pushed me around because I was young and inexperienced. But even worse were the emotional struggles of learning to be a mother.

When I had only one child, I truly suffered during those long, long, long days in our little apartment, no one but the two of us, baby and me, dealing with each other all day long. I invented errands and dawdled and took the long way home, but still had hours and hours to fill before I would hear my husband’s key in the door.

I cared so much what other people thought about her—they had to notice how beautiful she was, they had to be impressed at my natural mothering skills. I obsessed over childhood development charts, tense with fear that my mothering was lacking—that I hadn’t stimulated her enough, or maybe had just passed on the wrong kind of genes. I cringe when I remember how I pushed her—a little baby!—to achieve milestones she wasn’t ready for.

I lived in terror for her physical safety (I once brought her to Urgent Care, where the doctor somewhat irritably diagnosed a case of moderate sniffles) fearing every imaginable disease and injury. In my sleep-deprived state, I would have sudden insane hallucinations that her head had fallen off, her knees had suddenly broken themselves in the night, and so on.

My husband didn’t know how to help me. I didn’t know how to ask for help. My husband had become a father, and I adored him for it. My husband got to leave the house every day, and sleep every night. He got to go to the bathroom alone. I hated him for it.

When I had only one child, I told myself over and over that motherhood was fulfilling and sanctifying and was filling my heart to the brim with peace and satisfaction. And so I felt horribly guilty for being so bored, so resentful, so exhausted. This is a joyful time, dammit! I should enjoy being suddenly transformed into the Doyenne of Anything that Smells Bad.

I loved my baby, I loved pushing her on the swing, watching squirrels at the park together, introducing her to apple sauce, and watching her lips move in joyful dreams of milk. But it was hard, hard, hard. All this work: is this who I am now? I remember!

So now? Yes, the practical parts are a thousand times easier: I’m a virtuoso. I worry, but then I move along. Nobody pushes me around, and I have helpers galore. Someone fetches clean diapers and gets rid of the dirty ones. When the baby wakes up in the middle of the night for the ten thousandth time, I sigh and roll my eyes, maybe even cry a little bit for sheer tiredness—but I know it will pass, it will pass.

It’s becoming easier, and it will be easier still. They are passing me by.

I’m broken in. There’s no collision of worlds. We’re so darn busy that it’s a sheer delight to take some time to wash some small child’s small limbs in a quiet bath, or to read The Story of Ferdinand one more time. Taking care of them is easy. It’s tiring, it’s frustrating, but when I stop and take a breath, I see that it’s almost like a charade of work. All these things, the dishes, the diapers, the spills—they must be taken care of, but they don’t matter. They aren’t who I am.

To become a mother, I had to learn how to care about someone more than I did about myself, and that was terrible. But who I am now is something more terrible: the protector who can’t always protect; the one with arms that are designed to hold, always having to let go.

Dear mother of only one child, don’t blame yourself for thinking that your life is hard. You’re suffering now because you’re turning into a new woman, a woman who is never allowed to be alone. For what? Only so that you can become strong enough to be a woman who will be left.

When I had only one child, she was so heavy. Now I can see that children are as light as air. They float past you, nudging against you like balloons as they ascend.

Dear mother, don’t worry about enjoying your life. Your life is hard; your life will be hard. That doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong—it means you’re doing it right.

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For the link for this article, click here.

Visitors

This past weekend, two of Alison's good friends growing up flew into Georgia for a visit. Due to Alison's school load and schedule, she drove them to our home on Sunday evening and dropped them off. I love the fact that Alison's friends are also my friends. I enjoyed the company and the extra hands to hold and play with Emma.

During the few minutes Alison stayed at our house, she held and refused to share Emma with anyone. Emma girl was very sweet sitting on her aunt's lap.

Kristen and Eduardo in our dinning room working on some homework together.

The faces of a 5 month old

As of last month, another "couple friend" of ours and us exchange babysitting services once a month for a night out. Last Saturday, Byron and I went out to the nicest dinner date ever and had a great time with each other.

A Valentine for Oma

February 14, 2012

"Oma, be mine <3"
-- EEM

Happy Valentine's Day!

Aunt Amber's baby shower

Emma is just a few weeks (maybe days!) from meeting her new baby cousin.

Last Saturday we had a baby shower for Amber and Baby at our home.

Emma's wants...

Emma is developing quite the personality these days. Between teething and realizing that fussing for things means that she'll eventually get them, I am daily asking the Lord for wisdom as to how to raise my little girl to be patient and kind.

In the meantime, more pictures of Emma wanting, grabbing, and chewing on things other than her toys.

"Mama, I think some cake batter is lacking here."

"Memma, I don't need your help. I can hold this book all on my own. You see... I'm a big girl now."

Quick lunch with Aunt Alison

Alison's school had an "excursion" (for the lack of a better word) to our town, so Emma and I got to meet her at the Student Center for some lunch. We got to sit and meet a few of her classmates and enjoy some time with each other.

My dear friend from college, Lisa, gave Emma this little outfit that says "My Auntie loves me." Thought this little visit with Alison would be a great time for her to use it. (Btw Lisa, we have also busted out the sign language book you gave us and have began attempting to teach her some of it... we'll let you know how it goes).

I prepared a bottle of milk so that Alison could give it to her during our visit. She is not used to eating from a bottle, so we weren't too surprised when she wasn't too eager to drink out of it. We eventually warmed it a little, and down it went.

Emma's baptism

On Sunday, January 22, 2012, Emma was baptized.

During the baptism, Byron and I took five vows before our congregation.

These are two of the vows we took:

* Do you promise, with the help of God, to bring up your child in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, to pray for her and with her, and to make every effort to order your own lives that you will not cause this little one to stumble?

* Do you promise to encourage her, as soon as she is able to comprehend its significance, to confess her own faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, and become and active member of Christ's Church, serving faithfully in her fellowship?

It is our prayer that Emma would never know a day in which she did not know and embrace our Lord as her personal Lord and Savior.

Emma was so tired after the service, she fell asleep during picture time.
With our *wonderful* pastor, George.

Sleepy head with daddy.

Lunch time after the service at Memma and Poppa's house.

There is no doubt about what side of the family Emma got those beautiful blue eyes from.
With Aunt Rebecca.

Update

I have not been posting much recently. I need to get better about taking pictures. Emma got baptized two Sundays ago and all of those pictures are on Memma's camera, which I need to get hold of soon! Until then, here are a few pics that I've taken in the past 24 hours.

Emma seems less and less interested in her toys (which as you can see, she has more than enough of), and now loves to play with "big girl" things such as silverware (we only give her the spoon, don't worry), cups, paper, shirt collars, etc.


"Mama, can I now drink my meelk out of this cup? I am a big girl now. See?"

She puts the blanket over her face herself. She does this when she sleeps as well :{

Daddy time in the morning.

Oh me, oh my! How did I end up with a blue-eyed child?