Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Coffee with Lucy

We have 2 jars so far.

Filled with sea shells, a tiny piece of drift wood, a palmetto rose, and other beach finds.

A jar from your first summer, your first trip to the sea.  A jar from the following summer as well.

Helping me fill a shelf with my own collection; a sand dollar, some star fish, pieces of blue and green sea glass, and you see your treasures.

Instant delight.

I follow you back to your room and the contents spill to the wood planks and you immediately begin inventory.

You slide an open shell to me.  You choose one yourself.  Then a mini conch is placed in the middle.

'Coffee Mama?'

And there we were, sharing giggles over a cup of coffee.

I'm handed a new shell.  A larger one, with a teeny tiny shell inside it's scoop.

'Shhhhhh!  The baby is sleeping.'

And just like that, we're rocking our babies in ocean carved cradles.

You played with those shells all morning.  Arranging, rearranging.  Stacking, lining.  Imagining, pretending.

I happily joined in when an invitation was extended.

Otherwise, sitting cross-legged on your floor, I'm fully content just watching.  Watching you find such joy in the simple. 

I can't think of a better way to spend my morning.

All my love baby girl.


Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Dear Lulah {month 3}

Dear Sugar Lump,

3 months old, a quarter of a year.

You truly are pure sugar in human form.  Your dimply thighs, your muffin top tummy, your multiple arm rolls, your wide open eyes, your constant milky neck fold, your coos and gurgles and squeals, your deep belly chortle...sweet.  It's all sweet.  Sweetest thing in all the universe.

Even with all the demands that come with a new life, you have brought a peace with you Lulah.

And we could have missed it.  I see how too.  Trying to throw you into our pace of wild toddlerdom, your gentle spirit could become a blur.  But daily we try our best to enter your world, and time truly slows.  It is precious.

Even your sister, in all her 2 year old glory, suddenly has the capacity to just sit and smile at you.  And boy do you smile back at her!  A smile that requires your entire face to contain it.

She, along with the rest of us, can't get enough of you.

I would say that you're spitting up less, but then I realize the laundry has not lessened and we both continually smell of milk.  It's just become part of our days.  Our milky, drooly, wet days.  I would maybe worry about you retaining enough milk, but when the scale leans over the 15 pound mark...I think we're doing okay.

You sleep like a champ.  Thank you.  It's not really consistent or scheduled, but it's always enough.  When I'm not sneaking your naps into my arms, I peer over your cradle and find your tiny thumb tucked in your mouth.  You go my resourceful little girl.

Thanks to help from your daddy, I still uphold my most cherished mama/baby time.  Our walks.  The same slings and wraps that held your sister to my chest as she gazed upwards, now hold you.  We walk the same paths.  You too, try to drink up the silhouettes of branches against the sky until it lulls you into a sleep you can't fight.  It is a holy time.

3 months...

We're learning your shouts and cries, your  giggles and smirks, your expressions and gazes.  You fill us up Lulah, all the way up.


Sunday, June 16, 2013

My daughters' father

My husband.

Like our marriage, he views parenting as a partnership.

His involvement, enthusiasm, and dedication to being a father is one part radical (in this day and time), and one part an innate response to how fatherhood was originally designed to be.

I can not imagine facing the challenges of parenting without him by my side.   

He gives me the encouragement to figure out my strengths as a mother and pour that into our girls, and he parents beside me as I work on my weaknesses.

I watch him and I learn.  I watch him and I thank God.  I watch him and I see my girls being blessed.

He loves in his own way.  Fully engaged, fully entwined with every breath of raising our children.

Thank you Steven.  Thank you for counting our family as your greatest blessing.  

For everything you do for us, I thank you for giving our daughters the gift of your time and your attention above all else.

I speak from experience, the time is what they will remember...