Reminiscing

Teyla past the ten-month mark on Sunday.

Unbelievable.

Making the time warp worse was the fact that my nephew -- whom I've only gotten to see once in the last 12 months, which breaks my heart -- turned one on Sunday. ONE!

He is the first child of my brother, Michael, and his lovely and hysterical wife, Julie. And he may be one of the cutest babies ever to be born.

Here he is just at just a few weeks old.

The face! I can't get over it!

And here is in at his party on Sunday.

With his Mom.

And his Dad. (Michael is just three years younger than me. I feel the need to point that out, since I will now feel younger by association.)

Looking at his birthday party pictures last night made me feel a nostalgic and time warpish. (It's a word now.) So I did what I often do when feeling a tug on the heart strings -- I pulled up my blog from exactly one year ago and read what I was thinking about 12 months hence. I posted over at 5 Minutes for Parenting today about what I was doing back then.

Adding to the sense of wistfulness is that my sister, who birthed the other cutest nephew on the planet almost two years ago, is now pregnant with her second. And TODAY is the all-important ultrasound where she finds out if she's having a girl or boy. (This post was about her, by the way. Corey's record lives or dies with Emily. The irony is rich and thick there.)

I just wish I was there in California with her to hear the news in person. I don't like all this living happening when I'm not around to experience it.

So there.

But I am blessed beyond measure to know that my siblings and nephews (and maybe a niece?) are living each day in love and health and security. Family is the best gift from God that I can imagine.

I guess that's why time seems to fly. We're just having too much fun.

Extrovert

Corey offered to take the kids Saturday morning and leave me home alone with Teyla.

“I can get them to karate at 10:00 and then hit Home Depot and Trader Joe’s before swimming lessons. You’ll have the whole morning to yourself,” he said warmly.

How could I deny that?

Yet, as I helped the kids get into their karate uniform and tie their belts, I felt oddly empty.

I went to find Corey.

“I don’t want to be home all day,” I said meekly. “I know you’re trying to help me, but if you run all the errands this morning, I’ll have nothing else to do today, no where else to go.”

He grinned at me.

“I forgot,” he said. “Solitude isn’t a gift to you.”

No. No, it’s not.

So he took the kids to karate while Teyla took a nap. Then I ran the rest of the errands – plus lunch at Wendy’s – to round out the morning.

And I was happy.

Library Day

My head is stuffed with cotton and filled with deep thoughts tonight -- the product of sleep training a strong-willed child and me inhaling this book in a matter of days. I'll have much more to say about that .... soon. (I'd say "tomorrow," but we all know that's the kiss of death for a post. So I'll just say ... soon.)

But first, I need to show you what book Natalie checked out of the school library this week.


It's a Christian romance novel.

It's called "Loving Care," in case you can't make out the title due to all the pastel sweetness on the cover.

The back summary says (and I quote):

After the failure of her marriage many years ago, Christie Hanuman started over and vowed to remain single . . . until her ex-husband walked back into her life. Patrick had also changed, and was now raising his three-year-old son while also caring for his ailing father. Even more amazing to Christie, he had discovered a profound faith in God. Was this transformation a sign from above? And with so much history and love between them, could Christie dig deep into her soul and uncover the truth -- that she'd never stopped loving Patrick . . . and that this was a new chance at happiness?

It's sap at its strongest. Worse, Christian sap. (Sorry for the offense. Just goes against everything that is within me.)

Also? Natalie is seven. She's in second grade. Last year at this time, she couldn't read a Dr. Seuss book by herself.

When I pulled the paperback out of her school bag, we had the following conversation.

"Ummmm, Natalie? Is this the book you checked out of the library today?"

"Yes Mom," she said with a bright smile. "It's a chapter book. It's called 'Loving Care.' And I know we should be loving and we should care, so I checked it out."

Hard to argue with that.

Thankfully, the book was set aside immediately, as are most of the books she self-selects at the school library each week. (Last week's selection was a field guide to butterflies.)

As for me? I'll be stepping up my own loving care of Natalie this very month. If it's chapter books she wants, chapter books she will have.

Only none of the ones I'm choosing have pastel covers.

Election Reflection

I have to admit: I didn't wake up this morning with a pit in my stomach that signaled the world was about to end.

(I can't vouch for my sister. She lives in California, near San Francisco; thus, her exposure to The Crazy is about 250% more than mine. For the past six weeks, she's been making plans to move the family to our house in Tiny Town -- which is still on the market, in case you were wondering and/or looking for lake property. She's already decided that her husband will bring his gun to hunt deer, that the garden would need to be expanded to feed the extended family, that she would assume the homeschooling duties for the children in the compound if I would agree to cook. And all this was decided at 2:00 AM. She's nothing if not a Beaver.)

There's a part of me that feels I should be more concerned. After all, while I respect the process that gave President-Elect Obama his title and while I'm absolutely sure that God is in charge even today, I don't agree with many of the man's politics. Many of his views run completely contrary to my own, and he has now been given the right to enact those viewpoints.

But last night, I went to bed with a blanket of peace wrapped securely around my heart and my head, and this morning, I awoke with a smile on my face. (After I'd had my coffee, natch.)

Want to know why? Read the whole story over at 5 Minutes for Parenting.

Beacon of Hope

Teyla was awake more than she was asleep last night. I woke up this morning with puffy eyes and a pound of cotton in my brain. Teyla was equally delightful. She woke up at 7:00 AM and started crying. No smiles, no coos, just wails.

Alrighty then.

Connor, Natalie and I managed to get ready for the day amid the screams. ("SHE'S HURTING MY EARS!" Connor shouted at one point, his hands firmly covering his own.) We left for school on time, which was an accomplishment. I tried to grab that small beacon of hope and hang on. I'm not a morning person in any sense of the word, but I hate starting my day with a thundercloud around my head.

I assumed Teyla, bless her poor exhausted soul, would fall into a sleep coma the second we hit the freeway. I assumed wrongly. She stayed awake. However, the screaming stopped.

Which is why I decided to drive straight to the polling center after we deposited Natalie in her classroom.

That's when the beacon of hope started to shine a little brighter.

It's a beautiful morning here in the Twin Cities. Normally, November is a bleak, gray, barren month. But this year, fall is refusing to succumb to winter's bullying ways. As I drove along my neighborhood streets, I saw trees still clothed in shades of gold, maroon and wine and bushes blazing with brilliant red. The grass is still green, if not growing. The sun is bright and warm. Our high today is 71 (which is about 25 degrees above normal).

I pulled into the Lutheran church where I would cast my vote, a freedom that was bought for me with much sweat and even more blood. Moms pushing strollers and elderly couples walking slowly and young men with scraggly beards mingled on the sidewalk. I parked the mini-van and joined the throngs. Despite the uncertainty about the economy and the angst about the direction of our country, the tone was decidedly expectant and proud. The red "I Voted" stickers were worn as badges of honor.

And that they are.

I have mixed feelings about politics. I have little faith in either party these days, nor do I believe that America is somehow close to God's heart because of the faith of some of our founding fathers. I think God is in perfect control of this world, no matter who is elected President tomorrow, and I have complete peace in that.

But I do love this country. Despite her many, many flaws, I believe she is among the best countries in the world. And that's why I was proud to vote this morning, proud to have my five-year-old son help me put my ballot in the ballot scanner, proud to have my baby daughter hugging my thigh as I exercised this precious freedom.

That beacon of hope shines brighter still.

Which is a good thing.

Because Teyla is crying in her bed right now, refusing to go down for her nap.

Ladies and Gentlemen, We Have a Winner

Wow. What a fantastic turnout for the Sloppy Baby giveaway. I think 219 entries sets some kind of a record for me.

But I don't blame you. My friend's baby gear is adorable. Who can resist it?

And the winner is ...

Random Integer Generator

Here are your random numbers:

59

Timestamp: 2008-11-03 02:58:21 UTC

... Leslie. She doesn't have a blog, but in her comment, she said she has a new baby, Shelby Kate, and thus far, Shelby has had to make do with hand-me-downs from her older sister. Well, no more! Shelby is about to get some baby stuff of her very own. I hope she enjoys it.

Thanks for playing everyone. And congratulations Leslie! May you enjoy each day with your own sloppy (but sweet) baby.

Willy Wonka's Got Nothing On Me

I'm pretty sure a diabetic would keel over just by walking across my threshold right now.

There is candy everywhere. EVERYWHERE. From the looks it, an entire regiment of Oompa-Loompas has set up shop in my kitchen.

How did it get this bad?

I bought two bags of candy late in September -- a 105-count bag of Blow Pops and a 290-count bag of Sweet-Tarts, Laffy Taffys, Nerds and Runts.

Late last week, I panicked. We have at least 40 kids in our neighborhood these days, I reasoned. I have enough candy for them. But what if we are flooded with adorable little visitors? What if the kids in our complex have friends over? What if I run out?

So I swung by Sam's Club and picked up a third bag. "Just in case," I told myself. "I won't open this one. I'll just keep it as insurance."

And last night?

We had seven trick-or-treaters. SEVEN.

Rumor has it that most of our neighbors took their kids to THE MALL to trick or treat in banal safety.

Meanwhile, Connor and Natalie trick-or-treated in our townhouse complex and were rewarded with handfuls of candy at each stop. Seems I wasn't the only person in our neighborhood to overestimate the amount of Halloween candy needed. Connor and Natalie actually had to come home every few houses to empty their buckets.

We even opened the door this morning to find one of our neighbors -- a single guy from India who appears completely amused at the Halloween frivolity -- handing us all the bags of candy he wasn't able to give out last night. He said he didn't want it in the house, and he figured we could use it.

Corey didn't have the heart to refuse him.

And that's how I ended up with 12 pounds of candy in my kitchen.

How many Operation Christmas Child boxes do you think I can fill?