Cel-e-brate Good Times, C'mon!

Last night I got blisters on my feet from this:



IHOP just celebrated its 7-year anniversary yesterday, and three days of festivities culminated last night with a massive Hebrew circle dancing session. What an honor and a privilege to be here celebrating, reminiscing, and re-committing with some of the most inspiring people I have ever known.

Levi Matthew, and thoughts on babies and fertility

Our dear, dear friends Matt and Song had their first baby - a boy - on Sunday afternoon. Aaron and I met Matt when we were attending PLU. Since that time, we got married, moved to Kansas City, and had a baby. Then Matt and Song got married, moved to Kansas City, and now have a baby. It has been such a joy having dear friends from "home" here with us, walking a similar path and sharing in the journey. We are all far away from "home" and our families. We have shared history (oh, the history!) - with Matt in particular. Back in the day, Aaron and I led a young adults group that met in our home, and Matt was part of our "leadership team". (That sounds way too formal, but I don't know what else to call it.) His heart was so aligned with ours when it came to the passions of our lives - intimacy with God, prayer, and growing in the Word. He also had (and still has) a great sense of humor. When we announced that we were pregnant with Abigail, Matt sent us a prediction of what he thought our baby would look like. Recognize that face over there on the right? That would be Aaron, plastered onto a baby's body. The first time I saw that, I laughed so hard I cried




When we heard that Matt and Song were expecting a baby boy, I knew I needed to reciprocate the favor of Matt's photographic prediction. My creation is to the left.
I am happy to report that Levi Matthew was born Sept. 10, at 4:07pm, and my prediction did him no justice. He weighed in at 8lbs. 0oz., 21.5 inches (almost the exact same as Abigail). He is healthy (although he does have a little bit of jaundice. Pray that it is resolved quickly). Dark hair, dimples, long fingers, and absolutely A.DOR.A.BLE.

In fact, he sounds an awful lot like the description of Abigail at a few days old. We are sure they will be fast friends, as soon as he is old enough to defend himself when Abigail gets a little overzealous with her affection. We got to go visit him tonight, and Abigail was quite intrigued by this tiny, 2-day-old human. We didn't get a picture of it, but she kept trying to give him kisses. Abigail kisses involve a wide open mouth and lots of slobber, so needless to say, we did NOT let her kiss the newborn!

If you could read my thoughts in the picture above, I would be saying "Oh, I want another baby! Please, God, please, please, please. I'm ready. Let's go!" That's not quite a direct quote, but the yearning is definitely there. Do you know what happens when a woman who wants a baby holds a newborn? Oh, the longing!

(Warning: If you are male, or don't like reading about women discussing their fertility, stop reading here. You're likely to be uncomfortable, or just bored out of your mind.) I am one of those "lucky" women who doesn't seem to ovulate while nursing. At least, most of my friends say I'm "lucky" when I mention that I haven't had a period in over 2 years. I must admit, there is an element of convenience that I'm getting used to. But when you're ready for a baby, and your body shows NO SIGNS of being in baby-making mode, it can be a little disconcerting.

I always knew I wanted to breastfeed Abigail for at least a year, and I wanted to take my time weaning her. I guess I never thought about the fact that maybe I would want to get pregnant again before we finished that process, and that nursing could interfere with that. It seems even most women who exclusively breastfeed their babies still get on a regular cycle a few months after birth. Not so for me. I am operating on the assumption that it is the nursing that is preventing ovulation; primarily because I know it's possible, and because I don't really want to think about the other possibility - that my body just isn't operating the way it's supposed to.

Ultimately, we are fully trusting in God. We know He is the best leader over our lives, and we trust Him to guide us. He will release a child to us in His time. But I'd like that time to be sooner, rather than later, pretty please?

So for now our plan of action is to wean Abigail as soon as possible, while keeping with my "slow enough to not traumatize Mommy" pace. I'm such a softie. When she looks at me with that sad face and signs "Milk, milk, milk" I just melt. We're knocking out one feeding at a time because that's all I can handle! We only have the nighttime feeding left, and that's going to be a tough one to stop. We'll probably start working on it in the next few days/weeks. This was her second full week without her morning feeding, and she's still having a hard time with that.

So - my request: If any of you have any brilliant weaning tips to share with me, please do tell. What worked for you? What didn't?

Walmart With Toddler, in Pictures

I knew it was going to be a rough day when Abigail got ahold of my shopping list and immediately stuck it into her mouth, tore off a piece, chewed it up, and spit it onto the floor. All this happened in a matter of moments while I grabbed a bag of bagels for the four (yes, 4!) teenage girls that will be staying with us for the next three weeks.
Since when are her arms long enough to grab things out of the cart while she's strapped into her seat?


So, I'm walking by the candy aisle when I start thinking I'm smelling puke. No, wait, that's not quite it, but it's bringing up olfactory memories of having the flu. I literally stop and look all around me, trying to figure out what it is. I pinpoint the scent-reference: It's Pepto-Bismol. But there is none of the pink stuff in the candy aisle. It's really bugging me that I can't figure this out, so I literally walk slowly down the aisle smelling for the culprit. (If anyone was watching me leaning into the shelves to sniff the packages, I'm sure they thought I was nuts.)
Lo and behold, I found the impostor: Wint-o-green Life Savers. I will never be able to eat them again. (Not that I ever did in the first place, but NOW - ugh, queasy just thinking about it.) Don't believe me? Go get some and smell for yourself. I'm tellin' ya Pepto smell = Wint-o-green smell.


Obviously, the shopping list was not the only victim of Abigail's rampant teething tirade. Poor box-o-Eggos got snagged while I was reaching into the freezer for some juice concentrate.


When baby gets fussy, I start acting like the cart is some kind of carnival ride. Wheeeeee! We're driving like a race car! Wheeeeee! Mommy's standing on the bottom rack and rolling with you! Wheeeee! (Yeah, strangers are really starting to look at me now - but at least it keeps Abigail from screaming like a banshee because She. Wants. OUT. NOW! Notice that in this picture there are no hands on the handle of the cart. Abigail is rolling freely down the aisle, with physical control of the cart completely relinquished to the forces of gravity, momentum, and the crazy wheel that won't go straight. This is the height of fun, people. She could cruise like that for hours. Her big smile is so cute, it almost made me forget that shopping with a toddler is work. Almost... But alas, we must go check out. And just when we were having so much fun.


Checking out is pretty much always a nightmare, because Abigail despises being still for more than two seconds at a time. Sitting still is bad enough. But sitting still in a cart that's not moving - torture! Being the genius mother that I am, I decide to let her play with the first item that I scan - give her something to keep her busy while I scan and bag the week's rations, you know?

(Yes, I'm a self-checkout junkie. Nobody packs my groceries the way I like them except for ME. I pack those babies full. Why is it that every time a cashier bags my stuff I end up with, like, 6 bags for 5 products. C'mon people - A plastic bag can hold more than three cans of juice! Anyway, back to the saga...)

So I scan a 64 oz. bottle of juice and set it in the cart next to her. I'm thinking - it's plastic, she can chew on it but can't get it open, it's perfect. Silly Mommy obviously didn't think that one through. Plastic bottles don't break like glass when they hit the floor, but they still bust open. That's about 20-some ounces of Welch's White Grape Cherry juice all over the floor. Oh joy!


We survive the check-out, but Abigail hasn't had enough fun yet. We have to stop and say hello to Barney. I don't feed the monster quarters, I just let her climb up on the seat. She has no idea that this thing moves if you put money in it - she just likes to sit there and turn the steering wheel. If I have anything to say about it, she'll never see Barney in action, and therefore I will never have to hear her beg me for a quarter to ride.


We make it to the car and I'm putting groceries in the trunk when I realize that when the juice-incident took place, I never found the lid for the bottle. Now I have an opened, 2/3-full bottle of juice with a busted spout. But by golly, I bought the juice so I'm taking it home. Improvisation is a required skill for motherhood. I managed to get the juice home without spilling a drop or staining my pants (or should I say, without staining my pants more...there's that nice peanut butter spot on my thigh.) Back home in the driveway, I did manage to spill the juice onto the roof of the car when I set it there to get Abigail out of her carseat. But it was a little spill, and it only dripped onto the seat a couple times.

Tomorrow, we tackle Costco.