Sugar and Spice

What a couple weeks we have had.  I am sure after reading this, you will all forgive my lack of posting for the past month.  Since last you heard from us, Pumpkin has had a staph infection, followed by pneumonia, followed by strep throat; Mama has thankfully and uneventfully sailed through the first 6 months of being pregnant for Maggie, quit her job, started an entirely new job in a completely different field of law, and decided we needed a bigger house; and Daddy has received his realtor's license and we got Pumpkin's "big girl" furniture.  Big month for us.  I apologize for not writing sooner. Obviously, in addition to pregnancy hormones and just the general hot-and-fatness of being pregnant in July in Louisiana, I've also been under a good deal of legitimate, external stress.  The decisions of whether to, how to, and when to quit my job cost me several nights of sleep.  Those nights were followed by the...

We survived our first semi-major road trip with Pumpkin to Florida and back and, I must admit, it was not bad at all.  In 16 hours of driving, we only had one minor fit and I quickly learned that was a combination of hunger and car sickness.  Of course, the fact that Pumpkin was a traveling pro should come as no surprise. First she is Mee Maw's namesake and that apple didn't fall far from the tree.  More importantly though, the thing I should quit being surprised about is surprises - I need to just learn to expect the unexpected when it comes to raising kids.  Take this morning for instance, the only thing that I was dreading more than the car trip was the first day back at school after 10 days of non-stop fun and attention.  My fears escalated when the first words out of her mouth this morning, when she realized mama was dressed for work and not in "play" clothes, were "no school."  We arrive at school and I take a deep breat...

Pumpkin's been going through a little bit of a mama-phase lately. Her teachers are convinced it is because she really "knows" that a new baby is on its way (she acknowledges "Maggie belly", i.e., Maggie is in mama's belly, but when asked whether Maggie is going to come live responds with a drawn out and incredulous "Nooooooooo," as if we are foolish to ask such a thing). I thought maybe she was feeling a little under the weather. Either way, she's admittedly always a mama's girl but lately has been a REAL mama's girl. My usually independent "Aly do it" little Pumpkin has been wanting to be held and carried and coddled constantly. Most of the time I relish it, and though it does make it HARD to get some things done, I have tried to make the best of it -even having her help me make blueberry pancakes and getting her to do prenatal yoga DVDs with me. The one thing that has remained difficult and is getting harder by the minute,...

I had a moment last night. A moment of absolute peace and deep love. A moment that brought tears to my eyes and nearly brought me to my knees with thankfulness. I am so thankful for my little family. I am so thankful to have been blessed to be Pumpkin and her new baby sister's mommy. But I am also thankful for God's mercy and forgiveness. That moment I had last night, as simple as it was, did not come without the shameful recognition of my own shortcomings as a mother. Let me back up. I have always dreaded giving Pumpkin a bath. I feel guilty and judged even uttering the words, but it's true, I hated bath time. I would begrudgingly drag her in there short tempered and hurried, douse her head in water, scrub her down, and then sit nearby while she played with one eye on her and the other on my email or a book. I'd yank her out of there against her will and demand that she dry off and put on pajamas. And those were the days I didn't just force her to ...

Today is a bittersweet day for our family. Hubby is in Illinois saying goodbye to his sweet Grandmother Margaret. She was truly an angel on this Earth and I am so blessed to have known her and for her to have loved me and Pumpkin. There was something about her hug and the way she looked deep into my eyes to tell me she loved me every time I saw her. It was something I could never articulate in words. It was that she looked at me with Jesus' eyes, with His love, and with His gentle spirit. She knew Him, she loved Him, and she loved her family with His unconditional love. As I said when I learned of her passing, if she isn't in Heaven, then there is no Heaven. The sweetness of her passing is that she is reunited with her loved ones - a husband, two grown sons, an infant grandson, and our two angel babies. Sweeter still, she is with her Maker, her Savior, and her Lord. She is no longer suffering. The bitter part is obvious - perhaps selfish, but we will miss her. A...

It’s already happened – I have already been faced by the heartbreaking reality that I will not always be able to make everything better for Pumpkin. I knew one day she would face loss, or heartbreak, or defeat and I would have to come to this realization, but I never knew it would be so soon. We are raising a pretty sheltered little girl and I was hoping we could just keep her happy and naïve for as long as possible. Then someone taught her about fear. Fear. It’s such a complex, lonely feeling. I wish she never had to feel it. I haven’t even let her watch Jake and the Neverland Pirates because there is a well-defined “bad guy” in Captain Hook – instead I make her stick to Mickey, Dora, and Blue who have no known enemies. But lo and behold, someone taught her to fear. It started with big dogs. She has always loved dogs. Then, one day, out of nowhere, she declared that big dogs were “keery.” No big dog has ever harmed her or even gotten within arm’s length of her without adult ...

I am a worrier. Always have been. It’s a curse, both to me and those who have had to learn to love me in spite of my worrisome nature. It’s a battleground for my faith. I worry about everything. Things I can control (“is the door locked?”); things I cannot control (“why are there so many starving children in this country?”). I worry about things past (“did I say something to hurt so-and-so's feelings?”), things present (“I have to finish this brief, I have to finish this brief”), and things future (“what will I do if anyone I love is ever hurt”). I worry about everything. Always. Even as a small child my parents used to try to convince me to relax - literally sometimes telling me to breathe. I would pick my fingernails to the quick with anxiety. I don't even know what I was so worried about. I was raised in a middle-class home by two loving, God-fearing parents, with my sweet, smart sibling; I was intelligent, well-fed, and given every opportunity I ever pursued. ...