Baby Girl Is Walking

It's official: we no longer have a baby; we have a toddler. My heart has a moment of mourning at this thought, knowing that Presley is our last child and that some of those precious baby moments are now behind us. But I'm also excited for the changes that her toddling brings. Mostly, I'm glad that she'll no longer be picking up (and eating) every tiny piece of fuzz or hair that might be on the floor. I'm thrilled that I no longer have to vacuum constantly too. (Although, quite frankly, we weren't as good about this as we should have been.) And I'm excited that soon I won't be carrying her everywhere we go!

Presley can now get across the room without holding on to anything and without falling. She still crawls when she's in a hurry--and, wow, is she fast!--but she chooses to pull herself up and try walking much of the time. She's quite proud of her new accomplishments and enjoys the attention it garners.

Now, if I could just teach her to vacuum...

She's Got It All Figured Out

This morning I reminded Reagan that Curry would be coming over before preschool. (Curry is Reagan's "boyfriend" from church; he rides to preschool with us every Wednesday.) Reagan was excited as usual and began talking about Curry's recent birthday. Then, she spelled out her life plan:

"When I get big and Curry gets big, he's going to marry me--because he's my best friend!"

Well, there you have it. Decided.

The Twins Are Here!

My dear friend Jenny just delivered twins--Chance and Grace. The healthy boy and girl were around six pounds each and arrived via C-section. If you know petite Jenny, the thought of her carrying over 12 pounds of baby, along with all the extra weight it requires to sustain them, is ridiculous! But what's more amazing is the miracle that these babies are. After several years of trying the old-fashioned way, then various fertility tests/treatments, and finally two rounds of IVF, these were the "little embryos that could"--and they did! Considered a high-risk pregnancy, the fact that Jenny carried the babies until her 39th week is also astounding. Lots of people were praying for these little ones, and God certainly hears the prayers of his people!

Congratulations, Jenny and Eric! Can't wait to meet your precious miracles!

First Steps

The baby girl took her first steps last night! They were a bit tentative, and for some of them she was actually in the process of falling. But there were a few legitimate, actual steps in there. My prediction is that she'll be taking multiple, balanced steps by her 10-month birthday (April 11).

The Funny Things She Says

I forgot to add to my last post the few funny mispronunciations that Reagan is still holding on to. It will be a sad day when she finally learns how to say these words correctly:

breakfixt (breakfast)
gorilla bar (granola bar)
Weagan, Pwesley (Reagan, Presley; this pretty much applies to any "r" word)

He Always Was One of My Favorites...

Your 80s Heartthrob Is

Kirk Cameron

Who's" Your 80's Heartthrob?

Reagan's Favorite Things: Spring '07

It's been a while since I've done a "favorite" list for Reagan, so here goes:

favorite friends: Curry (her "boyfriend"), Langley, Ashley (her cousin)

favorite food: Pop-tarts

favorite colors: pink and green

favorite game: Ariel Story Studio (computer game)

favorite shows: Little Einsteins, Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, Dancing with the Stars

favorite stuffed toy: cow (she's had it since she was a baby)

favorite beverage: Sprite (an occasional treat)

favorite activity: Kinderdance

favorite princess: Ariel (for now; ask again next week)

Sisters...Sisters...There Were Never Such Devoted Sisters

Reagan and Presley are getting so cute together! Reagan is such a good big sister and loves to hug on Presley. Presley thinks Reagan is the greatest thing ever and loves to clap and laugh with Reagan. Mama is very relieved that they're starting to play together a bit. Since there's no preschool or Kinderdance this summer, it could be a very long one for Mama if the girls aren't able to entertain each other!

"Just Say 'Yes' " to Baby Einstein

I've decided that Baby Einstein is like crack for babies--or maybe I mean Xanax (I'm not really sure if crack is a sedative or an upper). Either way, it's like a drug. Presley has been cranky all evening, and nothing seemed to settle her. In a desperate moment, I pulled out the old DVDs and chose Baby Mozart. She and Reagan are now both quietly seated, watching intently. Amazing!

I'm actually kind of surprised, considering I never enjoyed history or anything remotely like it...

You Passed the US Citizenship Test

Congratulations - you got 10 out of 10 correct!

Could'>http://www.blogthings.com/couldyoupasstheuscitizenshiptestquiz/">Could You Pass the US Citizenship Test?

What a Difference a Couple of Weeks Make

Wow! Presley just started crawling about two weeks ago, and already we are having to re-think our baby-proofing. So far she has climbed the stairs, taken DVDs and videos out of the cabinet, hit miscellaneous buttons on various electronic equipment, and basically had her hands on everything that is two feet or below to the ground!

We're trying to make sure all the toys with tiny pieces are in Reagan's room, where Presley doesn't go, since she also puts everything in her mouth now. The irony here is that she coughs and gags every time I try to feed her baby food with the least amount of texture in it (those 3s are hard to get used to!), but she'll put anything she finds on the floor right into her mouth.

I'm sure Reagan did pretty much the same things, but it seems to have snuck up on us this time. Fortunately, we never took the outlet covers or cabinet locks off, so we have only a few minor adjustments to make. And even though we will take every measure to baby-proof our house, ultimately, we'd like to house-proof our baby!

Comic Relief at a Funeral

We just returned from Indiana, where we spent nearly a week visiting Reagan's great-grandmother in the hospital and, ultimately, at her funeral. Before we left, I told Reagan we were going because Grandmother was about to go to heaven. Reagan responded, "But I want to hug her first." She had plenty of opportunities, as Grandmother held on for three days after we were told she wouldn't likely make it through one night. Even though Grandmother wasn't able to respond and had an oxygen mask on her face, Reagan wasn't afraid to go right up to Grandmother and pat, kiss, or just talk to her.

Before visitation at the funeral home, I had warned Reagan that we would be having a celebration to say goodbye to Grandmother and that some people would be sad. I also told her that Grandmother's spirit had gone to heaven, but that she would be getting a new body there, so she didn't need her old body. When we arrived and Reagan saw Grandmother all dressed up, looking pretty good, I guess she figured this must be her new body. Reagan asked, "Is this heaven? Are we in heaven?" Um, no. She also proceeded to touch and poke at Grandmother and asked me, "Why she not squishy like me?" Um, I don't know, but I'm not going to touch her and find out. At one point, Reagan was jumping and making a sweeping gesture with her arms, saying, "Celebration party! Celebration party!" I asked, "What are we celebrating?" and she replied, "Grandmother goes to heaven!"

The last story is unrelated to the funeral, but it did happen in the kitchen of the funeral home, so it's worth mentioning. Reagan saw a sign and asked her cousin Melanie what it said. Melanie told her it was a "Thank You for Not Smoking" sign, and Reagan began her anti-smoking rant. (She takes after me in that respect.) She said, "We don't smoke! Only the bad people smoke." She added a few more comments that I couldn't really understand, but I clearly heard this next part. Now, imagine that she is wagging her finger, totally animated, while she gives this speech: "And Jesus comes down and tells the bad people, 'Don't you smoke!'--but they don't listen!" A preacher in the making, perhaps?

All in all, the funeral was a fitting tribute to my grandmother. I don't think she would have minded the levity Reagan added. She might even be laughing in heaven.

Puppet Show

This might actually be considered more of a "What Presley's Doing Now" entry, but it does include Reagan.

A few days ago, Reagan had assembled a makeshift puppet theatre, which consisted of her plastic ballet bar with her plastic ballet mat draped over it (never mind that she has an actual puppet theatre that her cousins Cody & Camille gave her for Christmas!). She was holding a pink bunny puppet and began telling her story.

Suddenly, baby sister Presley erupted in spontaneous applause! She may not have understood what the story was all about, but she did know that when someone puts on a show, you should clap. It was priceless.

Whatever Happened to "Sunday Best"?

I didn't wear pants to church until I was nearly 30. Almost never--except for the few times when my mother conceded that the 12-18" snowdrifts in the gravel parking lot of our rural Indiana church were too high to navigate in heels. Then, and only then, was I allowed to wear courderoys with boots. But my hair was still meticulously styled, accented with a bow or ribbon.

Still, on most Sundays, you'll find me in a dress or skirt with heels--unless, of course, it's my week to sing on the praise team, and I'm trying to fit within a mandated color scheme and still comply with the required skirt length, as stipulated in our dress code. Then, it's just easier to wear pants.

I understand what churches are trying to do--to be a welcoming environment that says, "Hey, you don't have to have fancy clothes to worship with us. Come as you are!" I get it. But it's almost never the "have-nots" who dress down for Sunday services. In fact, experience tells me that the poorer the congregation, the better dressed they are. This can be observed in the churches of third-world countries, as well as the poorer neighborhoods here in the States.

In my own affluent Brentwood church, any given Sunday can bring out gentlemen in suits (usually the older crowd) and teenagers in ripped jeans and concert T-shirts. Honestly, it's not the attire of the teens that gets me. It's the adults who think they're still kids! Ugh.

The truth is, I can't get away from my "Sunday Best" roots. I think little girls should wear darling dresses and bows in their hair. I think young men should wear a belt and dress shoes. Think of it this way: we get dressed up to go out to dinner on our anniversary, or for a special date, or to go to the theatre (stage, not cinema). Why on earth wouldn't we get dressed up for our special date with God each week? It's a matter of reverence.

The African-American church still gets this. And I admire them for it, among other practices. (Most A-A churches also seem to understand that God's working is not limited to the time between breakfast and lunch on Sunday morning. They are guided by the Holy Spirit--not by the dinner bell.)

So, this morning, I'll be sitting in my pew in a skirt and heels--even with the inch of snow that covers the ground here in Tennessee. (By comparison, this equates to the foot of snow from my youth in Indiana.) And my two precious daughters will be in cute dresses with bows in their hair. (Well, ok, Presley won't have a bow in her hair, since she doesn't actually have any hair just yet.) I know that doesn't make me more spiritual or a better worshipper than the guy in ripped jeans. But it's what I need to do to get to a place of worship. It's what my upbringing and spirit tell me is right...for me...and my family.

What We Did Today

We finally got a little snow in Tennessee, so Reagan and Mama went out to play. After a few minutes of running around, kicking the snow, and making snowballs, we came inside for some hot cocoa with marshmallows. Yum!

How I Communicate...

The part about the iPod is correct, especially now that I have my new pink Nano that matches my pink RAZR phone!

You Communicate With Your Ears

You love conversations, both as a listener and a talker. What people say is important to you, and you're often most affected by words, not actions. You love to hear complements from others. And when you're upset, you often talk to yourself. Music is very important to you. It's difficult to find you without your iPod.

How Do You Communicate?

Maybe the Cutest Kid Ever...

Well...at least in the top two. Here's Presley at 7 1/2 months.

First Trip to the Dentist

Reagan had her first visit to the dentist yesterday. We chose a pediatric dentist that was recommended by our pediatrician. I thought since it was her first visit that I would be going back to the exam area with her. But when the hygenist called her name, I asked if I should go and she said it was up to us. I asked Reagan if she needed me, but she chose to go solo. About twenty minutes or so later, the hygenist called me back and said she was all done. Reagan was sitting happily in the chair. She had stickers on her shirt and was holding a balloon puppy and a bag full of products--toothbrush, paste, floss, etc. She also got a T-shirt that says, "No Cavity Club" on it.

I met Dr. Hendricks and she seemed very upbeat and great with kids, as did all the other staff members. She said Reagan's teeth looked great! She did ask if Reagan was a thumb-sucker, as she could detect it in her bite. She wasn't terribly concerned but said it would be a good idea to curb that habit in the next six months. They even sell the yucky nail polish there in the office when we're ready to try it.

It must have been a good experince for Reagan, since she has started brushing her teeth multiples times each day now.

Birthday Countdown

Only about six months left to plan the best birthday parties ever! Better get started.

Two Roads Diverged...

Remember that poem by Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken? "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and sorry I could not travel both and be one traveler, long I stood and looked down one as far as I could to where it bent in the undergrowth..." Okay, so that was from memory, so don't sue me if I don't have all the puctuation correct. The point of the poem is that the traveler takes the road that looks the least worn--the uncommon path--and it makes an amazing difference in his life.

I've been thinking a lot lately about the paths we each take. I recently discovered some bizarre twists that took place in the lives of some of my college acquaintences. These discoveries were the result of some random web searches. Some of these people have become quite successful, but it's a strange, twisted success that I can't really go into. (I went to a conservative Christian college, remember? They are NOT living conservative lives!) Others have achieved only moderate success, and in the process have abandoned who they once were--one of them very literally: he changed his name!

I wonder what old acquaintences would think of me today? Would they think it's kinda cool that I'm a writer and that my words are now in print for all to see? Or would they find it disappointing that someone with a degree in vocal performance who lives in Music City isn't doing anything more with that opportunity than singing with the praise team on Sunday mornings? (Note: I'm not dissing the praise team. Singing for the "audience of One" is more important than any other performance.)

I struggle with my mission...my vision...my life's calling. I love being a mother more than anything, and I see that as my first priority, but I wonder if I'm doing enough with my life. I seem to always take the "safe" road--the one that offers financial security and a dental plan. I have so many interests that sometimes it's hard for me to define my passions. I tend to be a dabbler--do one thing for a while and then move on to the next. (Of course with the two girls, I don't seem to have the time or energy to do much dabbling.)

I've never worried about having a job. I know there are dozens of things I can do, and even do well. But what do I want to do? What was I meant to do? It still eludes me, and I stay on the safe path.

But I haven't given up the search. Someday I'll find the uncommon path that has my name on it. Just wait.