Picture This

Ohio-hio
October 30, 2008

Snow

It is snowing here. I am a sucker for snow and play. We went out for a half hour before nap time. Well, actually because nap time wasn't working and I need quiet space. Surely snow would help on that front.

Abigail had been counting the minutes to go out and build a snow bear. I don't know, don't ask. And she was very worried that the snow would be all gone before she got outside to play. We had to pray for the snow to remain three times at lunch. Distraught would not be to harsh a word at 11:30.

So the first snow-clothes-donning-process of the winter began. Find the snow clothes. Easier said than done when the boots are at Grandma's house and somehow the winter clothes got separated during the move. We found enough. Now the process of putting pants, and boots, and coats, and hats, and gloves on begins. Because there was snow, Abigail was especially compliant in putting on the hat and gloves she normally refuses.

The snow today is sticky and wet. Perfect for snowballs and snow bears (Does anyone have directions on building a snow bear?) just not enough for the bear. Snowballs would cause crying and frozen tears and snot were not a place I wanted to go.

We dug out the sled. There is a nice slope for toddler and pregnant women sled riding in our yard, so we spent our time outside doing that. Slide down. Walk back up. Slide down. Walk back up.

Not that walking around covered in snow- and cold-resistant clothing is ever a grace even, but trying to gracefully sit down on an orange plastic sled while wearing said clothing slightly tight because of a growing baby is impossible! So is trying to get off said piece of plastic at the bottom of the hill. I finally gave up and rolled off onto all fours. These were my worries for most of the time.

But Abigail. Oh, Abigail, embraced every graceless moment of it. She has finally grown into the snow pants we bought her when she was one. But still she waddles like a little duckling sticking its wings out for balance. Her rain boots protecting feet covered in three layers of socks slid all over causing more than one fall. The combination of a stocking cap and a hood meant she spent all sorts of time shoving the cap out of her eyes. And the congestion she has been wrestling let fly in the cold causing snot to flow freely between nose and mouth. All in all she was a mess.

Not once did she think that the neighbors might be watching. Not once did falling or an awkward moment stop her from enjoying every moment she was outside.

And I find myself doubly embarrassed. Once for all the wrong reasons, and now because my child demonstrated far more grace than I could muster for the same thirty minutes. Not grace of movement or grace of appearance, but in giving herself and me the gift of grace in all our imperfections.

Thanks

Little girls sleeping late

A new Bible study

Plans

Quiet times and spaces for plans to be made

Imaginary friends

A dishwasher filled

Not having to touch the dirty dishes

Close parking spaces when I'm in a hurry

Peanut M&Ms and dry underwear

Promises of a balanced budget

Baby feet on a full bladder

(I'm done.)

Still Guessing

Baby is growing well. Everything is normal.

But, Baby was asleep. Stubbornly so. No matter what the ultrasound technician did, Baby wasn't budging from his? position of repose. A shadow attached to Baby in the general gender-identification-vicinity at all the angles the technician could see would lead to the guess of boy.

But don't decorate in boy.

Gender Wars

Today is the day!

What will Baby Jones be?

I am determined to to think that that alone will be what we will be surprised with. Last night, though, I turned over to Chris to say I was terrified of this ultrasound. Never mind that we have had about six since finding out I was pregnant. Not because of any worries, but because the doctor is always late and I end up in the ultrasound room. Who wants to fiddle with a Doppler machine when a picture is easier?

Abigail has finally settled on a girl baby, but wants a boy baby named George. Chris thinks we're having a boy--like me. (My mom says he doesn't know what he is asking for.) Me--I use he almost always, but feel like we're having a girl.

Any guesses? Name suggestions?

Oreo Cookies and Others

The gray has come, settling like a blanket.
Bulky, lofty, insulated coats are donned.
Growing belly and lofty coats bring adventure to carrying toddler.
Snow marks the mountains.

Dry panties give reason for special drinks and lollipops.
And excuse to bolt through Aldi and run across a parking lot.
Chipper little girl dances and songs mark success in public or private.

Unsatisfying breakfast cereal--tasty but lacking.
Brings oreo cookies to Target cart.
And a before lunch treat.
Pregnancy gives cookie crumb lipstick smiles.

Silliness leaps from bed to floor.
Spins from floor to stool.
Climbs aboard.
Dances to my lap.
Ready for a nap.

Legs longer than ever curl in close.
Arms wriggle into the warmth of two bodies.
Head settles onto chest.
With request for a song, or two.
There is only one who prefers my singing.

Little girl settled.

We went grocery shopping today. Our house left in a jumble of play abandoned for chore. Daddy came home for lunch in a hurry with calls to make. Kitchen table, and kitchen itself bearing the remnants of meals prepared, eaten, and dishes awaiting attention. Laundry piled, done in bedrooms, or dirty waiting. Bills to be paid, balances to be calculated.

It is Monday.

It is time to name my blessings.

Picture This

Thank You, Lord

Rhythm

I'm seeking it.

I find certain words tiresome, confining, and suffocating:
routine,
schedule,

predictable.
They give me claustrophobia.

Isn't this gift of life to be more poetic than that? Could the God who paints anew a sunrise in prelude and a sunset as finale to each day have destined the crown of His creation to routine, schedule, and predictable?

I prefer to think not.

He is an artist. At once a poet, a musician, a painter, and a sculptor.

So I search for the rhythm of my life. The melody of my days. The poetry in to-do lists. The richest color in the mundane. The heart of a woman in the stony-ness of my flesh. I seek the artist's delight, His glory and His smile in the everyday.

Busy Day

Today is busy. I knew it would be--vote (no lines during working hours though, plug for SAHMing), OB appointment, birthday party for Abigail's good friend. The sane Sarah planned this morning. Vote. Grocery store, prune juice a necessity. Abigail to friend's house to play. Doctor's appointment. Pick-up. Party later.

Somewhere along time, I blame the OB, the crazy Sarah took over. You know the one all hormonal and worried about looking fat before looking pregnant. The one who can't fit properly into maternity clothes, whose pants won't stay up and whose shirts resemble tents rather than clothing. The one who is bigger than her friend seven weeks further along, never mind that her friend is always smaller than her, naturally, and that this is her second pregnancy and my fifth. That one took over! How is it that the sane me has so little control over the crazy me, but the crazy me can completely subjugate the sane one?

I digress. Some time while at the doctor's office. Waiting 40 minutes in the waiting room with a magazine of model perfect pregnancies while listening to the View ladies comment on politics. Or peeing in a cup, there must be a better way! Or waiting another 15 minutes in the exam room, thankfully I was able to keep my pants on. Sometime during all this glamourous prenatal time, I decided that a trip to Target was a necessity. I just had to have a few shirts that fit, and that free coffee for voting, and a prenatal exercise video, and a book, and . . . . I had to do it all before going home.

Abigail's naptime eaten away by the crazy Sarah and Target's good deals. That birthday party tonight promises to be a wonderful time of tired toddler grace and manners. And crazy mother grace and patience.

Little Sister

Ok, I will probably get in trouble for little so I should say younger. My younger sister is on her honeymoon. No one knows where they are today nor when they will return. I am utterly satisfied with that lack of knowledge.

Chris and I would talk about the man who would marry my sister. If God had a man for my sister. He did, and perfectly in keeping with His character, they are good for each other.

I just had to write to say "Congratulations." And upon your return, I do want to know where you went.