this is monday morning.

Me, showered but undone in the makeup or hair department, doing our lesson planning for the week, since our weekend was far too busy to allow for it. Reveling in the thrill of a brand-new pad of list paper, and all the promise and potential therein, and enjoying the much-needed cup of coffee my sweet sister brought me when she came home from her morning shift.

Rosalie, still in her pajamas and yesterday's ponytail, happily tracing shapes and humming snatches of songs to herself (much to her sisters' annoyance).

Emma, also undone in the hair department but still cute, on the computer doing her math, clicking away on the mouse and keyboard like an old pro. She claims she hates it, but I think she secretly likes doing it because using the computer all by herself makes her feel grown-up. Anything that makes math more fun is a thumbs-up in my book.

Annabelle, concentrating on her grammar workbook, which as of now is one of her favorite subjects. Curly hair all wild from the night's sleep and glasses perched smartly on her adorable nose, I look at her working independently and think how much older a second grader seems than a first grader.

Bennett wanders around the house in a t-shirt and diaper, seeing what he can get into, every once in a while climbing on top of things like the computer desk from whence I  must rescue him. His toys of choice this morning are a pancake turner and a potato masher, which he wears on his arm because he figured out he can.

And Violet the dog sleeps soundly on top of forgotten pillows upon the couch, and the breakfast dishes sit on the counter still because I somehow haven't gotten to them yet even though it's 11 in the morning. I'm ok with that. Some things can wait. They'll get done sometime today, as will the laundry and the picking up of scattered toys.

These are just unedited pictures from my phone. I like it that way, because these moments, these snapshots from this Monday morning in September, aren't necessarily anything special or spectacular. It's just life; the normal, imperfect, messy, sometimes crazy or frustrating or exhausting, simple and beautiful and wonderful kind. And these are the moments I want to capture, because they are NOW; but someday they won't be, and I know I will miss them and cherish the sweet remembrance.

six months.

Bennett turned six months old on January 11.

say what???

January 11 was also my 29th birthday. Yes, it's true, I'm getting older too!

To celebrate the momentous occasion, we took pictures together in the bathroom mirror.

I am wearing a shirt that I returned to Forever21 the very next day, as it did not properly hide the squishy tummy roll that I still have from when I had a fourth baby... six months ago. One would think after six months it would be gone. But no, my tummy roll turned six months old too.

However, I did not come here to talk to you about my squishy tummy or the fact that I don't exercise like I should. I came here to talk about my boy, this sweet six-month-old of mine.

I was putting off writing this post because I kept meaning to get around to taking actual six-month pictures of him. You know, like with a real camera instead of my phone.
But that just wasn't happening.
And then I realized that perhaps it's perfect that his six-month post be populated only with phone pictures, because it speaks so well to how our life is right now: messy and imperfect with no time for a lot of things, but so incredibly full of amazing everyday moments and memories that sometimes those other things just don't even matter.
I want to blog about my son at six months and share those everyday moments, the way I get to see him each day... because he is growing and changing so quickly, as most babies do, and this age delights me for so many different reasons.

 

He sits up like a little pro now, and only falls over when he gets just a little too excited about something.

 

He is a wild-child, always into something, always playing and busy, bursting at the seams with energy and excitement and enthusiasm. In fact, when he's on the floor, it's very tricky to get a picture of him that isn't blurry. He's simply always moving, whether sitting up and banging wildly on whatever toy is near him, or on the floor using his army crawl that he has perfected. Soon I am sure he'll be a full-fledged crawler, since I see him up on his hands and knees rocking back and forth, but until then he manages to be quite the speedy little dude anyway. And he's already discovered the delights of the dog's water dish. oh boy.

 

Not too long ago I bought an orange rug to keep in front of our sliding glass door leading outside... and for some reason it has become his favorite place to play and hang out. I always see him headed for it once he's free on the floor, and he looks out the glass and rubs his dimpled little hands over the fuzzy patterns beneath him.

 

 

We've introduced solid foods on a grander scale now, and he loves them. When he eats, he is so eager and anxious for the next bite that he always reminds me of a little bird with his mouth open, just waiting for the food to come. And then he says "mmm" and happily bangs on his bumbo. Mealtimes are a happy, albeit messy, time of the day.

He continues to be the delight and source of entertainment for his loving big sisters, and wants to be right in the thick of things, always talked to and played with. We went to the park together a week or so ago, and Emma and Annabelle and Rosalie took turns pushing him in a swing for the first time. Smiles and giggles all around!

Of course, all this activity and play does actually make him tired, and I am incredibly thankful for the fact that he's started taking longer naps... usually at least one long-ish one, and sometimes two if it's a good napping day. And he's also finally just now started sleeping through the night again (the good Lord above be praised) after some very long months of him waking up consistently at 2, 3, or 4 in the morning. I cannot stress enough how happy this makes me. Honestly, I don't think I even realized just how tired I was until I got my first full night of sleep! Sleep is wonderful. I'm so very glad this boy is starting to realize that (even though he often fights it for all he is worth.)

 

He really is unbearably sweet and adorable when he sleeps. From the moment when he gets tired and starts to pull his blankie over his head and burrow into it, to when he is fast asleep and his cheeks are round and soft and velvet and his lips are squishydelicious and his chubby hands are rested and still, there is just something about him that I can't resist. Perhaps it's because when he is asleep I see more of the tiny baby in him, rather than the ever-growing little boy.

Whether he is awake or asleep, I can always recognize the treasure he is. He's a handful, he's a challenge, he takes up my days and sometimes my nights and leaves me with hardly a moment to spare.

And he brings more joy than words can say.

I am so grateful for my wee lad, so glad that God gave Jeremy and me this amazing son.

 

Happy six months, mister Bennett, you are one very beloved boy!

 



four months.

Today, I bring to you the many faces of.....

SUPERBABY!!

This kid. I tell you what. He does not stop.

Always alert and looking around, always excited and fascinated by what he sees around him, always ready to go.

He's bright-eyed and awake almost all day long, and as long as we're on the go or surrounded by people and interesting places, as long as he's being held or talked to, then he's a happy little man.


And if he isn't happy, then he will let you know, in no uncertain terms.

At four months, he's discovering his hands and starting to reach and grab for things, and I have a feeling his whole world is about to get a little bit bigger.

He's rolling over with much more frequency and scooting himself forward on his tummy. Already I can tell he just wants to GO.

I think he might be teething... no little pearly whites poking through yet, but the pooping is out of control. Seriously. SO MUCH POOPING. Someone make it stop. please.

All those diaper changes aside, he gets more fun all the time. He's laughing now, and when he does, we can't help but be completely taken in. His sisters especially practically shine with delight when they get him to giggle. There's nothing like baby laughter!

Bennett-boy, we love you to pieces. You make our world a brighter, happier, funnier place!

March 15, 2009.

It's a date I think about often, especially lately.

It's the last time I had a baby, and as I near the end of this pregnancy and get ready to give birth to another child all over again, I can't help but think back on that day and remember what it was like, how it all happened, even as I wonder what this time will be like.

I woke up that morning in March over three years ago, a Sunday, and cried in the shower as I began to get ready for church. Why, you may ask? Because I woke up still pregnant, and this was just too much. (pregnancy hormones make a girl crazy, you know.) Even though my "official" due date wasn't for another two days, I was just so done. I was barely getting any sleep at night, my body hurt and I was uncomfortable, and my doctor had told me at an appointment the Monday before that I would most likely be back that night for labor and delivery (I don't think doctors should be allowed to tell very pregnant women things like that.) Not to mention, Annabelle had come down with pink eye earlier that week, and it had felt like the longest week in history for a variety of reasons.

(funny side note: Emma came down with pink eye the day before Annabelle was born. No joke. I keep wondering if Rosalie is going to get pink eye anytime soon, now that the birth of this baby is imminent... it seems to be a standing tradition of ours.)

Anyway, so there I was, ridiculously crying in the shower, and simply praying that I could get through the day, praying that our little girl would make her appearance SOON.

Little did I know!

We went to church as usual that morning, and that's when it happened. I stood up for one of the songs at the beginning of the service... and there was a trickle. I froze. I didn't just pee, did I? No. That was... something else. My water had never broken on its own before, so this was new to me, and I just wasn't quite sure. I excused myself to go to the bathroom. Still not sure. But every time I stood up during that service, there was more trickling. By the end of it, I was fairly certain my water must have broken. And so, we quietly and unobtrusively skipped Sunday school and left to go home, so we could get ready to go to the hospital.

For as much as I wanted to be in labor and have our baby, I think it was hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that I actually was. I wasn't having any serious contractions yet, just that trickling. I didn't feel any different. I made my kids lunch when we got home from church, changed my clothes, got a few extra things together, made some phone calls telling people what was probaably going on, watched TV with Jeremy and my sister, who was visiting from Colorado at the time. It just felt too unreal that I could have a baby in a matter of hours; it was just so different from my previous labor experiences, which came on hard and fast.

Finally, around 2:30, I started having a few contractions and we decided we might as well head off to the hospital. They confirmed that my water had indeed broken, that I was in labor, and we were admitted. I remember being in our room as the afternoon sun filled it with light, waiting for the contractions to get hard and wondering how long it was until we'd meet our little girl, thinking that it was weird to be there at that time of day, instead of in the wee hours of the morning.

After this, things get a little bit more hazy. I know labor picked up and I started to really feel the contractions hurt as they got closer together sometime in the next hour or so. I also remember starting to panic, oddly enough since I'd done this two other time, as they got really hard. Annabelle's birth, which was painful like nothing I'd ever experienced before, was somehow fresh in my mind, and I just didn't want to feel that again.

And so, partly because I was curious what it might be like, partly because I could since this labor was taking longer, but mostly because I was finding it increasingly hard to not panic, I decided to get an epidural, which I hadn't ever done before. And even though I know I actually could have gotten by without it, that it would have been fine, I'm glad I did. I relaxed. Jeremy relaxed. I got to have a good phone conversation with my mom, who was in Colorado and NOT practically on the other side of the door like she had been the last two times, which was so different and rather sad to me.

Sometime around 10 that night, I realized things were moving along and I was starting to feel it. We had wondered if Rosalie would be born on her grandma's (Jeremy's mom) birthday, which was the 16th, at the rate things had been progressing... but it soon became clear that she would claim her own day. And at 10:55 that night, out she came, our Rosalie Hope, perfect and healthy, all 6 pounds and 3 ounces of her.

She was so tiny, and I still remember her babydays, some a little more clearly than others, and what it was like to have a new little life in our home.

This peanut of a child has now grown and changed into a three-year old, a kid, a girl with a personality all her own.

I've discovered, as she's become more independent and vocal, that she is a challenge. Really, believe it or not, this sweet little thing makes life positively difficult sometimes. She's stubborn (oh, SO stubborn), defiant, willful, headstrong, quite often disobedient, can be a little bully when she doesn't get her way with her sisters, and has a temper that results in meltdowns and tantrums at anytime. She fights and argues, sometimes just for argument's sake, and she refuses to give in, always thinking she can win. I'm learning to choose my battles with her carefully-- but also realizing how important it is, once a battle has began, for me to stand firm and not give in, for me to "win". Consistency is exhausting with this child, but so important. I'm constantly humbled as a mother when it comes to her, and I pray for wisdom and strength and grace quite often in our days. I pray for her, too, that all that spark and fire she has will become a beautiful and lovely glowing, shining life throughout the years, by His grace.

Yes, she's a challenge. But on the other hand, she is pure joy. She is funny and hilarious and keeps us laughing with her spunky little attitude and bold ways. She is sweet as sugar, generous and unabashed as only Rosalie can be in her affection, when she so chooses- her big kisses, bear hugs, loud proclamations of love, and spontaneous snuggles are some of the best things ever. She is adorable and darling, with her blond curls and big brown eyes and charming voices that she uses when playing. She is creative and imaginative, drawing and dancing and dressing up every day. She's not afraid to get dirty and grimy, but she loves lip gloss and pretty painted nails like the very girliest of girls. She is a total ham, loud and crazy and loving to make people laugh; and she is thoughtful and smart, always taking in the world around her.


She makes us smile, and our lives would be less lit-up without her, that's for sure. Even on the roughest days, I am so thankful to be mama to her, just as she is-- a true blessing.

I can't help but think how she's been the baby of the family for over three years now, the littlest in our group of girls, the smallest of us all. And soon, perhaps very soon, she won't be the baby anymore. She'll be a big sister, and probably seem older and bigger than ever before with the presence of a tiny newbie. I can't wait to see her with our baby, to experience her being a big sister, to see the ways in which she will continue to mature and change, even though my heart whispers a little of the bittersweet to me as I watch her grow up every day.

But, baby or not, she'll always be a baby of mine. Always and forever my Rosalie-roo.


I meant to use these pictures and write a story about her birth way back in March as a birthday post, when she actually turned three... which of course never happened, thanks to my blogging procrastination tendencies. But, I'm actually glad it worked out that way, because I think writing this post now was the perfect thing for me. As I always say when it comes to blogging, better late than never... and sometimes, even better later rather than sooner! :)

Miss Emma Joy, eight years old.

Since the last little girl birthday, we've had yet another one.
On January 9th.
why yes, I am way behind.

But this girl deserves a post of her own too, and when it comes to blogging, "better late than never" is a motto by which I must live.

We celebrated Emma's birthday this year by going to the park with family on the Sunday afternoon before, where we opened presents and had cake and ice cream and the kids played and the adults froze to death and my husband started feeling distinctly not well.

At least the kids had fun, right?

The next day, on her actual birthday, I was left feeling a little lost. I had a husband who was home sick with the stomach flu, we were all exhausted from the weekend, and there weren't any real plans in place to celebrate in any way. I knew that we had to make it special somehow though-- birthdays need to be special! So, when we were all finally ready, minus Daddy of course, we went out for a late lunch at the Marketplace, followed by a hot chocolate at Starbucks and a movie rental from Blockbuster (birthday girl's pick. Ella Enchanted.) And even though it wasn't exactly what one could consider a well-planned out day, it ended up being really fun, and I think Miss Emma enjoyed herself. I know I enjoyed the time with my sweet girls, and conversing with my brand-new eight-year-old over chinese food.

Eight!! She's eight. Another year flown by. It doesn't seem like that long ago that I woke up at 3:00 one morning, two days shy of my twentieth birthday, with the contractions that I knew meant I was going to be a mother for the first time-- and soon. When we welcomed our Emma Joy into the world a mere 4 1/2 hours later (now that was a blur), little could we know what it would mean to be parents, or what joy she would bring to our world.

It's been an amazing eight years. A time of growth and challenge, change and wonder, joy and delight, love and learning, and every other thing that comes when you bring a child into the world. I'm so glad and so grateful that God brought this child into our world.

Here's to our eight-year-old, our firstborn...


our charming little fashionista...


our practical perfectionist, our particular and planned-out little person...


the big sister, our serious thinker, our smarty-pants...


our sometimes-so-very-silly, crazy, playful, loving, can-drive-you-crazy, funny, sweetheart of a girl...


our darling and lovely daughter.


I've cherished these eight years, and I know I've learned a lot as a mama-- and I know I still have much, much more to learn. This child of mine has been there for my mistakes and our triumphs, and I can only hope and pray that I will set an example for her that is worthy of the young woman I so desire her to become.

I think, by the grace of God, she's well on her way.

And until she becomes that young woman, I'm going to soak up every childish moment I can with our Emma Joy.

Happy eight years, Emma, my dear, you are loved more than you can even know.

six.

What better way to break my blog silence (hi, it's been over a month, how is this possible) than with a post about this sweet birthday girl?

Today, December 23rd, is Annbelle's sixth birthday! she's not five anymore. nope. she's six!

Somehow, that seems like a big jump to me, the mama. Five is still little-- still closer to being a baby than it is to being ten. still small enough to shop in the little girls' section. It just feels little.

But six! oh, six is an entirely different matter. Just ask Annabelle. Why, today when she got up, she confidently claimed that she felt older! She was surprised that she hadn't actually grown that much overnight-- it sure felt like she should have! "I just don't feel FIVE anymore. I'm definitely six, mommy."

Yes, darling girl, you are. And while I can hardly believe it and a part of me wishes you could stay small and just the way you are right now forever, I rejoice with you. Because I see you growing and changing, and becoming more and more who you will be. I'm learning about you every single day, and you become more precious all the time, even with the challenges that we sometimes face together.

I want to cherish you, and the things that are a part of you as a not-five-but-six-year-old.

That sweet nature of yours that can go so quickly from thoughtfully serious to giggly happy. You can never stay serious for long.



The way you still like to cuddle and climb onto our laps.

Your little girl voice and the way you say your words, the way you ramble on and think it's the funniest thing even though we might not "get it". the high-pitched voice you reserve for our dog and sometimes, when you're not driving each other crazy, your little sister.

The way you just LOVE your sisters. It makes my mama-heart happy.

How you dance and skip and run around on your tippy-toes. And then constantly fall down even when it seems there is no reason why you should have. You, my dear, are what I would call gracefully klutzy. :)

Those blue, blue eyes of yours. Your curly blonde hair that is still fluffy every morning when you wake up. Your goofy smile. Your skinny little arms and legs, and how ticklish you are absolutely everywhere.


Oh, Annabellesie-boo, I know you have to grow up. And I can't wait to watch you do it, thanking God every day for you and praying that He would do wonderful things with your life.


But I'm so glad we have a whole YEAR of six to look forward to. And I hope it doesn't fly by too quickly, because I want to soak you up.

You are loved, little pixie-girl.