my huntley life

brothers: the little one

2008-07-16T23:12:00.004-06:00

Here's announcing Jonathan Paul, born July 3 at 6:10 a.m., weighing 10 lbs. 6 oz. and measuring 20.5" long.

We love him, not that I doubted that we would, but he's an easy baby to love. Babies aren't supposed to be this low maintenance--little crying, short feedings, quick down-to-sleep time. It really couldn't be easier. I even had a tendency to forget he was around the first week we were home. Like Chris said today, that wheel's never gonna get oiled because it never squeaks. But squeaky or not, I think the little guy's going to get plenty of lovin', even if he doesn't ask for it. And I'm thinking he may have already gotten plenty from his oldest brother.

Sean loves his baby brother, just as much as he loved his first baby brother, only this time around he can verbalize it better. We've already heard these phrases countless times in the last week and a half:

"Mommy, you think I can be nice at him?" (which really means, "Will you let me love the living daylights out of him?")
"He's just. so. CUUTE!"
"Mommy, you think I can hold him?"
"Hey! JAAAWWW-thiiind! JAW-thind, JAW-thind! Watch this!" [makes funny face] (he's finally catching on that no matter how many times he does it, "JAW-thind" isn't going to laugh)

Sean eagerly moved on over and made room in his little heart and life for his baby brother, just like he did last time, and just like we knew he would again.

It was the middle child we were a little worried about. But so far, there have been no (or very few) hard feelings. Ben's taking it quite well, actually, for which I'm extremely thankful. He readily kisses Jonathan "good night;" comes up to pat him on the head or belly (albeit, none too gently), or to check out his fingers and toes; and he even squatted down in front of Jonathan in the bouncer last night to console him while I finished getting Sean out of the bath.

So, life with three may end up being much easier than anticipated. I suppose things may change, but for now I'm happy with the way four-became-five is so nicely coming along.

baby's toys

2008-06-25T16:21:00.002-06:00

Don't get your hopes up--baby's not here yet. But I had to record this conversation I had this afternoon with Sean. He was sitting on my lap and had pulled my shirt up and we were watching the baby wiggle all over my belly and the following conversation ensued:

S: Mommy, what he doing in there?
M: He's wiggling and squirming all over.
S: Why he wigglin' and squirmin' all over?
M: Well, why do you and Ben wiggle and squirm?
S (with eyes big and round): Mommy, this belly has toys in it?

I love that kid. He's such a great big brother already and he can't wait to be one again. Soon, hopefully, very very soon.

puff, puff, choo, choo...off we go!

2008-05-13T14:27:00.002-06:00

Sean's always--even as a baby--been the type of kid who wouldn't meet any kind of developmental milestone until he knew he could do it quite well. We have ridiculous amounts of video footage of him almost rolling over--he'd roll up onto one side, and then go back to lying on his back. Over and over and over again. So the first time he actually finally did roll, he rolled and rolled and rolled clear across the room. The same type of thing happened with eating and walking and talking. And we can't even think about persuading or coercing him into partially achieving anything--he'll do it on his own when he's good and ready, and not a moment before. Can we say "independent perfectionist"? I wonder where he gets it from?

So, given all that, I knew potty training the child would be quite the experience. We started talking to him several months ago about all the ins and outs of what going on the potty "like a big boy" entailed, since we knew we'd need a big jump start before we actually started training, but anytime we'd bring it up he'd firmly say that he wanted to wear diapers. And I have to admit, I was somewhat afraid that I might have seriously delayed any hope of readiness by unintentionally terrifying the poor kid before we'd even had a chance to start. One night somewhere in the middle of all of this gearing-up-for-the-big-event talk, I was helping him get undressed for a bath, and in my tired, absent-minded, mommy-brain state, I went to put him in the tub, but out of my mouth came, "Okay, Sean, time to go in the potty." Not "on the potty" (which at least would have been a reasonable statement) or "in the tub" (which is what I meant). No, I had to say "in the potty." Oh, the terror that leapt into his eyes. And the kicking of the legs and the thrashing of the arms and the crying and wailing of "NO, MOMMY, NO! I DON'T WANNA GO IN THE POTTY! NO, MOMMY, NO!" I had him halfway into the bathtub before I realized exactly what I'd said and, therefore, what his problem was, at which point instead of apologizing like any decent parent would have done, I started laughing--uncontrollably laughing--at the idea that I had actually uttered those words, but especially at the idea that Sean knew in his heart of hearts that what I had said was exactly what I was doing. Cruel, I know, but you have to admit that it is mildly funny.

Anyhow, despite the potential setback from that little episode, we decided about three months ago to take the plunge (no pun intended)--bought all the necessary "equipment," had a final little chat, and went with it. That lasted all of, oh, maybe a day. He quickly informed me that he was a big boy, but he wanted to go potty in his diapers.

We tried again about a month later with pretty much the same result. He knew he was a big boy and didn't need "big boy underwear" to confirm that fact (I definitely can't complain about his self-esteem). So, instead of trying to constantly realign a derailing potty train, we just parked it at the station for a while until the little conductor got all of his issues worked out. I kept talking to him about using the potty every now and then, with still no interest on his part, and hoping that one day soon he would come around.

And just last week he finally did. I had bought a new potty chair for him early last week (because the first one we got was ridiculously small--who do they think could go in a hole the size of an orange? C'mon.), and told him to tell me when he was ready to start using it (thinking the whole time that maybe it would still be big enough for him as a teenager). Three days later, as I was changing his diaper, he told me he wanted to wear his big boy underwear. I knew I must have heard him incorrectly, or he had forgotten what all went along with wearing that, so I quickly and thoroughly went through everything that he would have to do if he did, in fact, wear his underwear. And lo and behold, he was okay with it.

We're now on day 6 and he's doing quite well. Still having accidents every now and then, still will only pee in the toilet, but we're getting there. And he's finally on board. Now I just have to prepare myself for another derailment when the baby comes. But I think he at least knows by now that mommy will only put him on the potty and not in it.

coming into his own

2008-03-21T08:45:00.002-06:00

Sean recently has been unveiling more and more of his little personality, and it's hilarious. Yesterday, as I was changing his diaper, he made up this song:

"I love to sit in my STINKYYYY DIAPERRR! I love to sit in my STINKYYYY DIAPERRR! I love to sit in my stinky DIAPERRRRRRRRRR!"

Hmmm...and I wonder why pottytraining wasn't going so well?

And a few nights ago when we stopped for gas on the way home from church, he and I had this conversation:

S: Hey, look, there's Daddy!
M: I know, Daddy's going to pump Mommy's gas.
S: Why?
M: Because I don't like getting out after dark at this gas station.
S: Mommy...you have clothes on, are you?
M: Do I have clothes on?!
S: Yeah.
M. Yes, I have clothes on. What does that have to do with anything?
S: 'Tuz, Mommy, it's cold out there!

catching up on ben

2008-03-01T21:16:00.006-06:00

I've been neglectful lately of my second-born. Not literally, I don't think, but in not keeping up with a monthly record of his second year like I did so faithfully for his brother. I suppose that's what happens when you're not the first (as much as I know it pains you, Joanna, to hear that). So, here's a recap of Ben's most important accomplishments the last few months:

Month 13 consisted of finally learning two big things: 1) that it really isn't such a bad idea to go down the stairs feet first on your belly, and 2) that real, big people food really is good. Ben started eating so much table food right about the time that we went to Kansas for Thanksgiving that we joked about leaving him there for a while since he obviously liked Mimi's cooking so much.

In month 14 Ben started learning how to use a fork and spoon--I guess he decided that if he was going to go about this whole table food business, he might as well do it the right way. He also started learning a slew of baby signs. And it didn't take long to realize that he picks up on them quickly--he'd just see us do one once or twice, and then he'd start doing it on his own without prompting. "Drink" and "hat" are the two he has since used most frequently (since drinks and hats are about on par with each other around here).

And then in month 15 the verbal onslaught began. Since Sean never said anything besides "Daddy" and "applesauce" before he was 22 months old, it took me by surprise when Ben, at 14 1/2 months old, blurted out "cah-cah" when he saw me opening up a box of crackers. After that it didn't take long for him to blurt out all kinds of things: "cah" (car), "baw" (ball), "dat-da" (Daddy), just to name a few.

Month 15 was also the month that he started to really take an interest in reading. He'd grab books off his bookshelf or pick them up around the house and just sit in the floor and "read", or if one of us was close by he'd bring it to us and raise up his little arms so he could be picked up and read to.

At his 15-month appointment he weighed 25 lbs. 5 oz. and was 32 1/2 inches long. Still a long guy, as always, but not quite as chubby as usual--he was actually down 4 oz. from his 1-year appointment. Not that he's hurting--he's still got plenty of meat on his bones for us to squeeze.

And then month 16. This last month brought a lot more words--"tzth" (teeth), "chuzz" (cheese), "guh" (yogurt), "ca-ca" (kitty cat), "bi-ba" (bible), "buh" (boo!), "booh" (balloon), "poo" (spoon), "buh-baw" (football)--I can barely keep up with all his new words.

But the hardest part of month 16, probably of the last 4 months overall, was his first haircut. I admit, I put it off until his sweet little baby curls had become an unsightly mullet. I just didn't want to say good-bye to those little curly locks around the back of his head until I absolutely had to. So instead of this...

now our little man looks like this:

I wish he wasn't growing up so fast, but if he stays this handsome, I think I can live with that.

from my friend mary...

2008-02-23T00:01:00.002-06:00

"We can see God everywhere if we know how to look."

one, two, three...

2008-02-18T23:34:00.005-06:00

This day three years ago, Chris and I came home with our 2-day-old firstborn. I don't know where the last three years have gone, but I've loved every minute of them with this kid. I thank God every day for loaning me this precious little boy--sometimes I still can't believe I'm the one who got him. And just when we think things can't get any better and he can't get any cuter or sweeter, they do and he does. And even though I'm proud of the little boy he's quickly becoming, a big part of me is sad that he will soon leave all stages of baby- and toddler-hood behind him forever (if he ever decides to get out of diapers!). So right now I'm just trying to cherish his sweet threesomeness and all the little things he says and does before they leave too, because I so desperately want to remember...

how he wakes up every morning with a smile and boundless enthusiasm for the day
how much he loves his "ohl-neen" (Ovaltine)
how he loves to just sit and look through books at random moments throughout the day
how he likes to "read" to himself before he goes to sleep for a nap
how "the wise man's house" is his most frequently requested bedtime song and after-breakfast Bible story
how he likes to make Ben laugh...and run in circles, and jump on beds, and play "tackle"
how he likes to ask me, "Mommy, play with me hair," especially at bedtime
how he's so quick to come up to us with spontaneous hugs and sweet little, "Mommy/Daddy, I yuv you"
how he has to kiss all three of us good night every night
how he loves cars and trains and airplanes, both real and toy ones
how he loves to eat almost anything, but especially fruit and yogurt and the very rare (and therefore very cherished) sweet treat like a birthday cupcake
how he tries to join in adult conversations like he really knows what's being talked about
how he loves to talk on the phone...to anybody
how he asks most of his questions in yoda-ese ("Mommy, this apple juice, is it?")
how he tries so hard to do everything exactly as it's supposed to be done--three-point stance before a running tackle, dribble and run around before shooting a basket, hike the leg before throwing a baseball--and how he picks up all of that kind of stuff on his own without being taught
how his memory is better than mine and Chris's combined and he'll make reference to obscure things that happened six months ago
how his compassion just gets bigger the bigger he gets ("Mommy, what wrong?")
how he loves going to Bible class and church and seeing all his friends (big and little, but mostly big)
how he seems to get more and more lovable the longer he's around

Here's to you, little buddy. May you always be so quick to laugh and learn and help and love and play, because the world needs more of that. Happy birthday, Sean!

only boys

2008-02-17T22:12:00.004-06:00

Warning: The following post is not for those who are squeamish about calling body parts by their given names and insist on coming up with cutesy nicknames so as to spare themselves, and their children (I suppose), some kind of embarrassment. For everyone else, read on and enjoy.

I challenge any mother of daughters to come up with a conversation quite as interesting as the one I had with Sean last week following his nightly bath:

[Just a sidenote: when Sean asks a question, his voice raises to an increasingly higher pitch, so by the time he's finished with his question and depending on its length, he may be speaking at an octave five times higher from where he started. Keep that in mind...]
Me: Sean, stop playing with yourself so I can finish drying you off.
S: Mommy, what dat?
Me: That's your penis.
S: My peanuts?
Me: Yes, Sean, your penis.
S: Mommy, why dat my peanuts?
Me: Because that's what makes you a little boy. Little girls don't have one of those.
S: Little girls don't have one of those? [The octave change that accompanied this question gave the implication that he was really asking, "You mean, there are people in this world who don't have one of these?! How do they get by?!"]

No, son, little girls don't have one of those. And mommies of little girls don't get to have conversations like this either.

Chris's only concern was that Sean was calling it his "peanuts" and now if anybody offers Sean some real peanuts...well, that could lead to another interesting conversation altogether.

plenty of boy clothes already, but...

2008-02-12T22:16:00.002-06:00

I think baby #3 deserves at least one outfit to call his own! And he shall have it before his debut in June.

Another little boy. I have to say, I'm not surprised, I'm not upset, I'm not disappointed--never was from the moment we found out on Friday. In fact, I find that the more I think about it, the happier I am that we'll have yet another little man in our growing family. After all, with boys as fun and cute and just plain boyish as ours, who couldn't be happy to be getting another one?

And yet I get the feeling that so many people are surprised that we're not disappointed, or they are readily disappointed for us. Even the ultrasound tech apologized when she told us we were having another boy. I think part of it is because most people assume that three kids is our limit--it's not, we've always wanted four; and I think another part of it is that people assume we must be tired of raising boys and ready to move on to something else--we're not, and the little boys we do have are so vastly different that we're quite looking forward to seeing what this next one will be like--they're not little clones by any stretch of the imagination.

No, I can't say I'm in the least disappointed to be a mother of boys. Quite the opposite, actually. I've always had a vision of what an ideal man is, and what every man should be, and it doesn't take much observation to see that the world needs more "real" men--desperately needs them. And I'm thankful that God's giving me the opportunity to help teach at least three little boys what it means to be a man. And I'm especially thankful that they have a living example of godly manhood in their daddy, who I can easily point to and say, "That's what it means to be a man."

Do I want a little girl? Absolutely. I long for one. But if the Lord never blesses me with a daughter, I can honestly say that I will be more than happy with my crop full of little men.

this is january?

2008-01-08T00:17:00.000-06:00

The temps have been in the 60's and 70's the last few days, but with the boys (especially Sean) being sick, I thought we were going to have to forgo this mid-winter surprise. But I let them loose today anyway for a bit, and I think they appreciated it. Although they definitely weren't their usual energetic little selves. It wasn't long before Ben was fussing, Sean was asking to go inside, and they were both completely zapped of energy. So we had to call it a day long before I was ready to. Oh, how I would love for spring to just come early this year! It's been a long winter already.

sick

2008-01-08T00:07:00.000-06:00

This is my little boy:

This is my little boy with horrible pinkeye, a really bad ear infection, a non-stop runny nose, and a nagging cough:

After four days of this, I'm ready to have my little boy back again.

attack of the stinker

2007-12-07T10:15:00.000-06:00

Ben's orneriness seems to be increasing lately, and it apparently really steps up to new levels when he's exhausted. He refused to take more than a 45-minute nap yesterday, so by dinnertime he was in full stinker mode. After multiple incidences of him grabbing something he wasn't supposed to, and then turning and running, I couldn't keep it in any longer--I burst out laughing at the sight and sound of Ben running circles around the table and Sean shrieking along behind him, trying desperately to retrieve whatever Ben stole from him. I know I won't be laughing after years of this, but for one moment last night, I enjoyed the hilarity of it. Much to Chris's dismay, since he was having a *very* hard time disciplining anybody with me laughing my head off a room away.

And I think Sean tried to get even this morning. Ben, apparently, started playing with something that I had just told the boys to leave alone, and I turned around in time to hear Sean say to him, "No, Ben, no! Me give you 'pankin'!" Fun times.

happy holidays!

2007-11-24T14:35:00.000-06:00

I've always loved holidays. Some more than others, but holidays in general nonetheless. And I love them even more since we started having kids, but it's not simply because celebrating holidays with children makes it even more enjoyable. That's true, yes, but for me there's something more.

It's a little known fact, but Chris and I have found out we were pregnant with each of our kids on a holiday. We found out we were pregnant with Sean on Memorial Day, we found out we were pregnant with Ben on Valentine's Day...and now we can add Halloween to the list. Yep, Baby Huntley #3 is on its way and should be here around the end of June!

So, this means that...

I'm about 10 weeks along
the baby (as of last week) is about the size of a large olive and all of its internal organs are already formed
there will be 20 months between Ben and this baby just like there is between Sean and Ben
I have 7 months to get Sean somewhat interested in using the potty, and then completely and fully potty-trained, because as much as I don't mind having 2 kids in diapers, I refuse to have 3.

I'm taking a poll: what's your guess, boy or girl?

four days to a 2-year-old

2007-11-18T00:02:00.000-06:00

We were telling Sean a few days ago that in four days we would be going to Mimi and Poppy's house. He got all excited and breathlessly said, "Us...go...Mimi...Poppy's house! Forty days! Forty nights!" At least he's learning something from the Bible. Now we just have to work on context.

more of sean

2007-11-14T09:34:00.000-06:00

The kid's always good for a few laughs. These gems were all from over the weekend:

RELATIVE (Mimi? Poppy? I don't remember.): Mmm, Sean, these eggs are good! Who made the eggs?
SEAN: God do!

[As Chris was kissing me and the boys before he walked out the door]
SEAN: Daddy, give Bobby kiss!
CHRIS: I already gave Mommy a kiss.
SEAN: NO, Daddy, give POPPY [my dad] kiss!

SEAN: Mommy, me want cheese, please!
ME: Do you want it shredded?
SEAN: NO! Me want EAT it!

"us going home"

2007-10-28T20:56:00.001-06:00

We were riding in the van tonight and I happened to look back to see the boys holding hands and Sean quietly saying, "Baby Ben, us going home." I love to see that childish contentment. And like Chris said, that pretty much sums up life itself. We hold each other's hands and quietly remind each other "us going home." It doesn't get any simpler--or sweeter--than that.

amusing anecdotes

2007-10-25T20:33:00.000-06:00

Sean's been cracking me up lately. Here's just a sampling of why, although imagine them spoken in 2-year-old language:

SEAN: I like [whatever]
US: Me too.
SEAN: Yeah, me three.

BEN: Waaah! Waaah! Waaah!
SEAN: Calm down, calm down! It's okay, calm down!

US (putting Sean to bed): Give me your cup and I'll go fill it up.
SEAN: Mommy, get me big boy water, please! (He means water from the bathroom sink--why it's called big boy water, we have no idea.)

SEAN (with a cheap metal nutcracker in his hand that basically consists of two metal rods hinged together, and Ben sitting attentively beside him): Baby Ben, let me clip your fingernails. Sit still! Just a few more! You're doing good! Almost done!

SEAN (after leaving the pediatrician's office): I like Dr. PAX!
ME: I do too. Why do you like Dr. Plax?
SEAN: Dr. PAX plays with me!

ME: Sean, do you want a sandwich for lunch?
SEAN: Yeah.
ME: What kind of sandwich do you want?
SEAN: Um, Ovaltine sandwich!

still built tough

2007-10-25T20:31:00.000-06:00

We joked when Ben was first born about how we could take the Ford motto "Built Tough" and use it for Ben. That still applies. I took him for his one-year appointment yesterday and he was 31.5" tall and weighed 25 lbs. 9 oz. It won't be long and he'll be the one knocking Sean over, instead of the other way around.

Oh, and after 3 shots in one leg, his response was nothing more than a few leg shakes and a look at the doctor like, "What'd you do that for?" Not even a whimper came out of his mouth. Like I said--built tough.

remembering...ben's 1st year

2007-10-23T11:44:00.000-06:00

ben. is. one.

2007-10-22T22:12:00.001-06:00

Baby Ben - Day 2

One year ago today, our little Benjamin Jude made his grand entrance. One year. Already. Where in the world did it go? I feel like I blinked a few blinks, slept a few sleeps, and then--poof--it was gone. Time's not supposed to go that fast, not when little ones are involved. Already I find myself looking back and wishing that I had held him more and cherished him longer, not because I don't think I did enough, but because it was over all too soon. And I'm longing for just a little bit more of the baby-ness from my Baby Ben.

I've been looking back through pictures of little Ben throughout the day, remembering all kinds of little things from all of his little stages. It's been interesting to me in my short experience as a parent to realize just how much of life is all about milestones, and the fact that they never end. You achieve one, then go on to the next one, and so on and so forth for the rest of your life. Everyone does it--it's part of being human. And yet despite how simply ordinary it really is for the entire human race, we still cheer each other on and celebrate each other's little accomplishments...even the babies'. And I pray the day never comes when I fail to recognize even the smallest little achievement in my children's lives, for it's those little things that make up life itself. And that is always, most definitely, worth remembering.

So here's to remembering my little Benjamin as he turns one. Remembering that he's already walking everywhere like a pro, even stopping to pick something up and going on, or standing up in the middle of the floor by himself and taking off; remembering that he still only has six teeth, which doesn't do much for him in the eating category; remembering that he still dances and moves his little body everytime he hears music; remembering that, when prompted, he'll blow kisses, give kisses, sign "touchdown" or "light" or "more" or "bye bye" or "eat"; remembering that he will start doing the hand motions to "The Wise Man's House" when he hears the song; remembering that he loves to make people laugh, and will do something over and over again to make it happen; remembering that he screaches anytime he's frustrated, impatient, annoyed or stuck; remembering that his version of peek-a-boo is to put one hand anywhere on his head (for instance, on his ear), wait for someone to say "Where's Ben?" and then he'll giggle with glee when he takes his hand off; remembering that he's already initiating playing "catch" with whoever's willing; remembering that he still likes to be held and cuddled and loved; and most of all, remembering that the fun is just beginning.

The last year with Ben has been wonderful, and I do wish it hadn't gone quite so fast. But on the other hand, the little guy's becoming such a sweet and fun little toddler, that I can't help but look forward to where he's going to lead us. And, yes, I really think he's going to lead us places. Like to the emergency room, for instance. I'm afraid we already have him pegged as our ornery and mischeivous little rugrat. We may be wrong, and we have the right to change our minds as the years go on, but for now, I'm content to believe that fun, fun times are ahead with this little guy, and we're quite looking forward to it.

Happy 1st birthday, Baby Ben! We love you.

so true

2007-10-15T14:17:00.000-06:00

I'm a quotation freak. Here's my latest find:

"If we can only figure out that each of us can do little things with great passion, the whole world would change. You don't have to expect change for billions. But we all have a family. I've learned that the way you do anything is the way you do everything." -Andrew Cherng (owner of Panda Express)

on birthdays, friendship, and love

2007-10-01T23:24:00.000-06:00

I have a secret: I turned 29 on September 21st. There, I said it. I've been trying to come to grips with it for over a week now, and I think the reality has finally sunk in. I'm not usually one to get caught up in the "Oh, no, I'm a year older and trying to deny it!" hysteria, but this year's birthday kind of got to me. I won't pretend that every other birthday hasn't gotten to me--milestones of any kind always do, they always have. I remember sitting on the top step in the house on Hood Street silently bawling my eyes out as Jonathan talked about his plans for life after graduation. I all of a sudden knew at that moment that life would never be the same again--he would leave, then Jeremy, then me, then Joanna. We would go our separate ways, start our own lives, grow old, and start the cycle all over again with our own families. I saw it all there on that stair step. And I have that same cycle-of-life feeling at every little milestone, knowing that in at least some small way, life will never be the same again. So, yeah, birthdays almost always get to me.

But another part of it this year was knowing that I'm now on the edge of 30, with just one more year left of being a 20-something. And even though I don't feel old, that fact alone makes me seem old. 30's always seemed old to me. I mean, I remember when my parents were in their 30's. It's just always been the beginning of "oldness" and now that I'm approaching it I'm realizing that it's really not. I'm having to change my longstanding perception of 30 and beyond.

And yet another part of my lack of enthusiasm for my birthday this year was because we weren't really able to celebrate our birthdays this month. I'm not complaining--we don't usually do much for our birthdays anyways--but we do usually try to do something. We just weren't able to this year; outside stuff just lined up to prevent it from happening at the appropriate time, and we haven't had an opportunity to plan anything since.

So, after experiencing a good but fairly normal birthday, I awoke on September 22nd trying to acknowledge the fact that I really was 29, that my baby really was 11 months old, and that life goes on. And it was in the middle of this mindset that I came into the living room and found an FTD florist box waiting for me. Weird, yes, but whatever. Maybe Mom and Dad sent me flowers? Who knows.

I opened the box and found that my longtime friend, Beth, had not only remembered my birthday, but as is so typical of her, had gone above and beyond the average act of friendship and sent 18 of these beauties in celebration of the day:

Only an old friend could sense the need without actually knowing of it. My gratitude goes beyond words, Beth. I thank God for your presence in my life and I'll always think of you when I think of my 29th birthday.

And that was just the beginning of September 22nd. That afternoon we went to celebrate as two of our friends vowed to become one. And I was reminded of why I love weddings, and especially why I loved my wedding. It's more than just the love and the joy that comes from it--it's the hope. Hope that together two people can create a better life for each other than they would apart. Hope that together they can create a better world to live in than they would apart. I live for that hope, and I love celebrating with people who are determined to make that hope a reality. Congratulations, Chris and Paula. May you make each other and the world around you a better place as you become one.

So here I am, a week and a half after the day, and I can honestly say I'm content with 29. With good friends, family, and the hope of love, life is most definitely worth living. 30's coming? Bring it on. This year will be the best one yet.

stumble trip! Stumble Trip! STUMBLE TRIP!

2007-10-01T22:20:00.000-06:00

The boys and I were running late for church yesterday morning, so Chris went on ahead and left us to get there safely on our own, a task which you would think would be easy enough to accomplish. We were doing great up until we got out of the van at the church building. I had gotten Sean out and told him to stand on that side of the van while I went around and got Ben. Unbeknownst to me, though, he followed me around the van and stood behind me while I was getting Ben out. I went to back up (while holding Ben), stepped into Sean, and that started the neverending cycle of us stumbling and tripping all over each other until we all three finally fell in a heap about 5 feet from where we started. Ben was on top of me, fortunately, and I just scraped my leg a little bit, but Sean, poor little thing, knocked his head on the concrete. He sat up rubbing his head and looked at me with tears in his eyes and the saddest, most forlorn look on his face as if he was thinking, "What did you do that for, Mommy?!" I apologized profusely, assured him I had no idea he was there, said it was an accident, etc. I don't think he was convinced. I kept asking him the whole way inside if he was okay, since he kept rubbing his head, and he finally said, "No, Bobby! You pushed me over!" How's that for heartbreak?

And yet I can't quit laughing at the whole thing. Chris thinks I'm sick to find this so funny, but it surely had to look hilarious from an outsider's perspective. Arms and legs and bodies falling and flailing all over each other over and over again. And I have to admit, Sean's seeming to think I did it to him on purpose is pretty funny too.

P.S. In case you're wondering, he really was okay. The tears never fell from his eyes, and five minutes later he had completely forgotten the whole thing even happened. I'm not that easily amused.

ben: 11 months

2007-09-30T22:57:00.001-06:00

Our little guy turned 11 months old 8 days ago, and it's taken me this long just to figure out exactly what to say. Even now I'm still not sure.

I always thought Sean's first year went by fast, but that doesn't even compare to how quickly Ben's has gone. It just doesn't seem possible that we're so quickly approaching his first birthday. It still seems months away, and yet here it is, right around the corner. And as much as I would like to deny it, I also can't help but embrace it and all the little milestones that come with it, milestones that I want to remember as long as possible. And so, baby Ben, here's a little snapshot of what you were like at one month before you turned one, in some of your last moments of babyhood:

Taking your first steps! At 10 1/2 months?!
First steps=first shoes (not that they're new or anything. We hung onto Sean's old footwear for a reason. And it just so happens you have the same Stride Rite XW foot that he does. Convenient.)
Waving...a little delayed, usually, but waving nonetheless.
Infatuated with balls--you're constantly crawling around with balls in your hands. And you're already trying out the bat-and-ball concept: you first tried it using a baseball-bat-shaped puzzle piece in one hand and swinging at a round toy in the other hand. Amazing!
Sprouted tooth #6.
Giving open-mouthed kisses. Sloppy, yes, but oh so sweet!
Learned the signal for "touchdown!" Daddy's thrilled, to say the least. He's now 2/2 on that being the first "baby sign" our kids learn.
Still climbing everything, except now you've progressed to climbing onto couches and into the little rocking chair.
Finally take pleasure in reading books instead of just eating them. Although you seem to think that every book should be a touch-and-feel, because your little finger is constantly rubbing all over the pages looking for something interesting to caress.
Actually beginning to say words! You'll say "mama" and "hi" (although it sounds more like "ha") when prompted, and without prompting you will make an elementary, but obvious, "vroom" sound when playing with a car. Oh, yes, and we love to ask you what a tiger says, just to hear your adorable baby "rhar!"
Getting cuter and cuter, seriously. We talk about it all the time. The more your little personality shows, the cuter you get. Keep it coming, little guy. We love to see it.

reasons to laugh instead of scream

2007-09-19T21:30:00.000-06:00

The famous "dinosaur shirt"

I love my little Sean, I really do. But I have to honestly say there are some days when his constant quest for independence drives me so crazy I want to pull my hair out. And those are the days when I have to remind myself that there are plenty of things about him that are fun and funny and worth laughing about, even in the midst of the hair-pulling episodes.

We, apparently, have told him so many times that he's a "heavy boy" that he now, any time he has a hard time climbing onto something that's really high or awkward, says, "Mommy, me heavy boy!"
His response anytime he doesn't want to do something is ALWAYS, "Mommy, me all done [insert undesired action]!" We've heard everything from "me all done eating" and "me all done sleeping" to "me all done soggin'" and "me all done stinkin'" (the latter ones in response to the question, "Do you have a soggy/stinky diaper?"). Sometimes we ask him if he wants to do something just to hear what he'll say, because chances are pretty good that it'll start with "me all done."
He's started the amusing habit of laughing whenever he hears adults laughing too. He has no clue what he's laughing about, but he gets a fake little chuckle going that usually makes me laugh even harder. It's so adult, when you think about it, the whole laughing-because-you're-supposed-to thing. And it totally cracks me up coming from a 2-year-old.
He loves being tickled--loves it. And I love tickling him just to hear that infectious laughter and see those adorable dimples and wait for his "Mommy, do it 'din!"
He rarely picks out his own clothes, but when he decides he wants to or is given the chance to, you can 100% guarantee that he's going to head straight to his closet and pick out his "dinosaur shirt," which is actually shortalls with dinosaurs embroidered on the bib and leg. He's managed to wear that outfit as often as possible this summer, and I think it's time to retire the thing, sadly. I'm going to miss "dinosaur shirt."
Every night after his teeth are brushed, I tell him to spit, he spits (or attempts to--kind of hard to do when you've already swallowed everything that should be spit. We're working on that.), and then he turns and looks at me and says, "Mommy, dat close one!" I have no idea what that means. But it sure is funny.
He has the idea that if the garage door is going up, and he's attempting to go under it, that it doesn't matter how far away he is from the said door, he must crouch down as low as possible to keep from being knocked in the head. So usually what happens is the door is more than halfway up, and Sean's in the middle of the garage floor crouching down to keep from being hit by a door that's 6 feet away from him. He errs on the side of caution, what can I say?
Best reason of all: the kid's just plain fun, that's all there is to it. He loves people, he loves to laugh, he's still sweet beyond belief. So in the end, what's not to laugh at all that?