Thursday, February 14, 2013
a Story I LOVE
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| Guess which hue of blue won THIS game! |
I try to only post entries that have some sort of a point. I apologize in advance that this one won't.
Instead, it's a story. It's a story of how, 16 months into marriage (and 4 months into parenthood!), I was reminded that I had met my match.
Let's start at the very beginning:
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| Guess which hue of blue won THIS game! |
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| He looks so cute in baby blue. |
For a week or so, we'd both been hemming and hawing about what to get the other - "what do you want?" "I don't know. What do YOU want?" kinds of conversations were commonplace. I mentioned tickets to George Strait's farewell concert in Greenville; he tossed out a day at the lake or dinner at his cousin's restaurant. Nothing, however, was set in stone, until this past Tuesday.
That was the day after I'd gotten confirmation that I'd have tickets to take him to Chapel Hill to watch his 'heels play Florida State. I LOVE Chapel Hill. He LOVES the Tarheels, and we both love traveling, so it's a PERFECT surprise for a man who deserves no shortage of perfect surprises.
Inwardly, I was gloating at how good my present was gonna be compared to the box of chocolates I figured he'd end up getting me. I couldn't wait to for the tickets to drop out of his card; I was so excited to piously say, "Oh, sweetie! Your gift to me is MORE than enough. I LOVE Reese's. I may even eat both Cups right now!"
And then he came home for lunch on Tuesday.
"I got your Valentine today," he gloated.
Now, you should know that I am about as good at keeping surprises secret as I am at clipping my son's fingernails. That is to say, I'm not good at it AT ALL. So I saw his assertion as my moment for a blessedly early big reveal and begged him to go ahead with our exchange. He easily agreed and even offered to go first.
"Well, Baby," Jeremy said, with his chest stuck out and a catbird kind of grin spread across his face. "Clear your calendar for Saturday." "Where are we going," I asked, assuming he'd say something like, "Out to dinner" and KNOWING his gift would not be NEARLY as good as mine. Instead, though, he said, "We are going to Knoxville to watch your CATS play the Vols."
Jumping up and down with elation, I said, "ARE WE REALLY?!" As soon as I could calm down, I added, "Well, Baby, clear YOUR calendar for March 3!" "Where are we going?!" he replied. "We're going to Chapel Hill to watch your HEELS play the 'Noles!"
THAT, my friends, is what "Two Hues of Blue" is all about, and it (and a million other things) is enough for me to know I want to keep Jeremy around, not just for another date, but for FOREVER.
Happy Valentine's Day to the Sweetest Man I Know!
Saturday, February 9, 2013
Designing a Nursery: Golf Style
Recently, I committed to blogging more. As soon as I did that, I started perusing OTHER blogs for inspiration. By that, I mean that I looked around, trying to find an answer to the burning question of "How in the world do these people have so much to write about?!"
What I found in all my browsing is that, apparently, a key component of a successful blog is an entry that contains a description of the decor in one (or more) of the rooms in the blogger's home - complete with pictures of the process and a description of how it came to be how it came to be.
I can do that.
But which room to feature? Since all but one of the rooms in my home are decorated in some combination of "Stuff I had in Grad School" and "Things Jeremy Collected from his Ninety Year Old Aunt," the logical choice is to post pictures of Jones's room.
That's what this entry is all about, and "because you asked (didn't you?)," here's how it came to be, how it came to be:
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| I fully expect a "cease & desist" letter from Hootie Johnson any day now. |
For me, the theme came easily.
My husband is a lifelong golfer, and though our "Robert Jones" was named after Jeremy and my great grandfather, a Masters theme seemed a logical choice for a little boy who shares a name with the founder of Augusta National.Significantly less easy, though, was selecting a shade of yellow paint. Not that anything's wrong with either, I didn't want Big Bird, nor did I want John Deere, so we tried out several shades and finally ended up with something we could both live with. More specifically, we ended up with FIVE COATS of something we could both live with. Thank God for very helpful in-laws with very sturdy upper body strength.
Using this palatte, we were also able to come up with a couple swatches of coordinating fabrics, including my favorite - green fabric with white polka dots that I tell myself are actually golf balls, though they clearly are not.
Sue me.
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| It was actually harder than I thought it'd be to find Jenny Lind. We had to order it online. |
So, there ya go.
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| The books in this rack almost all came from McKay's in Knoxville. This used book superstore is a MECCA for book lovers ... and the bane of my friend Leslie's existence. |
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| I will grant you this: that IS a LOT of yellow. |
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| These were just solid bins. I used fabric glue to adhere the green & white ribbon to them. This may very well be as crafty as I am capable of being. |
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| Annnnnnd ... now, I'm thirsty. |
Two of my favorite things are his Coke crate toy bins, uncovered at an antique store here in Asheville, and his bedspread. This was the biggest splurge of the entire room. I mailed a lady on Etsy some of our fabrics, and she made this, and I am crippled by its cuteness.
AND WE DO NOT EVEN USE IT.
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| We went with the generic "Pressley" in case Jones ever has a brother who'd like to not use this blanket, too! |
So that's that!
Add in some curtains my mother-in-law made, a floor full of toys he's still too small to play with, and the obligatory name in letters over his crib (I wish I could've come up with something more creative, but, on the up side, if we ever forget the name of the little chap who's taken up residence in our guest room, it provides a nice reminder), and you've got yourself a golf-themed baby nursery.
And, gratefully, there's not ONE piece of the "Stuff I Had in Grad School."
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Something "Sparkly"
SparklyGreenEarings4 from Big Mama on Vimeo.
In watching this video for Melanie Shankle's new book, I realized two things:
First, I'm gonna have to add Sparkly Green Earrings to the ever-growing stack of books I'm too tired to read, and secondly, she and I had delivery room experiences that were to-o-tooooo-tally different.
According to the narration in the video, she thought "I'll never forget the way I felt when they placed [my daughter, Caroline] in my arms for the first time."
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| Focus on Jones in this picture; try to ignore the fact that my hair looks like I just stepped out of a steam room. |
In the same moment with Jones, I was thinking something more along the lines of, "That was SO much harder than I thought it'd be. SO. MUCH. HARDER. No, really, Son. I hope that, some day, I can forget how hard that was, so that you and I can be buddies, but right now, I'll be honest, I'm a little put off by how hard that was. My sister did that FOUR TIMES?! In the name of Heaven, HOW?!"
They say to visualize something to make childbirth easier. In the critical moment, all I could visualize was a two hundred year old tree trunk passing through a string cheese.
That's not the politically correct thing to say. It's true, though. The transcendent, euphoric, nobody-but-me-and-my-baby-in-this-bubble-of-love experience I expected didn't come until later, like after the Lortab kicked in and I'd had some lunch.
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| Mama's little Life-Saver |
And I, like Melanie, wish I could somehow save each and every squeal. I'd bottle it up and store it away for those days when motherhood is "SO. MUCH. HARDER" than I thought it'd be.
In the meantime, I'll just read this book and remember that, though we our experiences as mothers may be so different, we are all after the same things:
Lortab and lunch.
(Y'all, I'm kidding. We just want Lortab. No, really. What we really want is lunch without the interruption of a baby whose nap ended twenty minutes too early. At least, that's what I want.)
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Meditations on a Breast Pump
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| I wish MY legs were that skinny. |
Jones never really nursed. (Still haven't crossed the threshold for "Too Much Information"? Read on.)
Because I developed pre-eclampsia at the end of my pregnancy, Jones was delivered three weeks before his due date. At that point, he wasn't interested in eating anything, much less having to work for it, so in those early days of force feeding him through a syringe, I committed myself to six months of giving my sweet little man breast milk in bottle form, which, in essence, has amounted to "expressing myself" multiple times a day like some kind of dairy animal who's been removed from the farm.
Trust me. There IS a point to all this.
For the most part, pumping has been a pretty easy experience. I'm so thankful to be able to give Jones the health benefits of breast milk, while at the same time giving myself the convenience of, say, having his daddy give Jones his breakfast bottle. In fact, the only time pumping really presents a problem is when mealtime hits, and I haven't yet ... oh, how should I say this? ... "prepared" it.
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I KNOW he eats at 4:30. This happens every, single day, but today, for whatever reason (ahem, Facebook), I wasn't ready. Minutes before zero hour, I snuck out of Jones's room, where I'd stepped in to check on him. Since he'd just started to stir from his nap, I thought I had time. Well, no sooner had I gotten connected to my "equipment" then my very sweet-natured son started to let me know, so to speak, that I was late with his lunch.
What could I do? I couldn't feed him what I hadn't yet produced, so I pumped on. As I sat there, I thought to myself, "If he only knew what I'm doing in here ... if he only knew, he could quit the crying, knowing that I'm preparing right now to meet his need."
Whoa.
As the thought sunk in, I could sense God saying to me, "Exactly."
If only I'd known about the UGA acceptance, I wouldn't have cried through three years of applying to doctoral programs. If I'd had any idea that Jeremy was waiting, I wouldn't have fought Him so hard for leaving me single so long. If I'd known in advance what He was up to in these and so many other situations, I could've just sat back and let Him do His job. Instead, I cried and complained, like my three month old son, sweating out whether or not I'd remember to feed him.
But the truth is, I DO know what He's up to. He tells me in Romans 8:28. He's working all things together for my good. Even when I don't know what He's doing. Even when I'm crying my eyes out. Even when I think He's forgotten to feed me.
He's always there, preparing right now to meet my need.
Monday, January 28, 2013
A Double Shot of "AWESOME"
For you - and for me - I give you this little pep talk ... because if there really ARE two paths, I ALSO want to be on the one that leads to Awesome.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Broadway Peace Talks
Do you ever have those moments in your life when you just take a deep breath and wonder, "What did I do to be so blessed?!"
These moments in my life have been many. God has been beyond good to me, doing, as He promised, "exceedingly, abundantly more than I could ask or think." Precious husband. Healthy son. Passion for the Winningest Team in College Basketball History.
If you ask me, I've got everything I need!
One of these "Wow!" moments came last spring in the form of an invitation to speak before each musical in the 2012-2013 Certus Broadway Series at the Peace Center in Greenville. When offered the gig, I had to clarify before accepting. "Hold up," I said. "You're telling me I get to prepare and present a chat about musical theatre to people who choose to be there? AND THERE'S NO GRADING INVOLVED?!"
The theatre professor in me has achieved Utopia.
I say all that to say, we'd love to see you there! The talks are held at 6:30 p.m. on the Wednesday nite of each show's run, and the public is welcome whether or not they're planning to attend the show.
So join us: next up this season is Billy Elliott (Feb. 13), followed by The Blue Man Group (May 8), and, Daddy's favorite, Jersey Boys (July 17). Each session is different - but it generally entails some form of historical background about the show, and, sometimes, a Q&A with members of the cast. On very rare occasions, I may even sing a bar or two of the score.
I get giddy just thinking about it ... and NOT just because there's no grading involved!
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Sleep in Peace: Lessons About the Father that I Learned from my Son
Call it luck; call it training; call it months of praying before (and after!) he was born that he'd take it easy on his sleep-greedy mama, but most nites in recent weeks, we put him in his crib at 7:30 p.m. and typically don't hear from him again for another 8 or 9 hours when he wakes up to eat before dozing off once more.
Truly, he is his father's son.
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| Thanks, Leslie Bell, for my threads! |
Jones has no idea I'm doing this. I just do it, because I love my baby boy and want to be sure he's safe.
Just after he was born, I walked in one nite and stood there, watching him sleep. One hand on the white crib railing, I used the other to pull down a piece of his sleeper that'd gotten bunched up by his tiny nose. I threw that wascally pacifier to the foot of his bed, and I stood there, periodically putting my hand gently on his belly just to be sure I could feel the rise and fall of his baby breath. Just watching, protecting in case anything came up that my newborn couldn't handle for himself.
As I stood there, Psalm 4:8 came into mind:
"In peace, I will both lie down and sleep, for You Alone, o Lord, make me dwell in safety."
"In other words," God seemed to say to me, "This is how I watch over YOU, Kristin." Only, He's ALWAYS there, never slumbering or sleeping, keeping a constant watch for those countless things I can't handle for myself (can I handle ANYTHING by myself? Um, no). He Alone protects me from things that I - just like Jones - don't even know are hazards, because He loves his little girl and wants to be sure I'm safe.
"Sleep in peace."
Indeed.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Three Must-Haves for Baby's First Three Months
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| What I wouldn't give to nap in a fanny-hammock like that! |
Though I spent the better part of the last thirteen years acting as if - even wishing that - my sister's children belonged to me, I, technically, wasn't a mama myself until the recent coming of my sweet son, who is, at this very moment, whimpering like a dejected puppy dog, because I DARED to put him down for a nap. The nerve of me.
All that to say, anyway, that I'm not setting myself up as an expert here. People - remember my sister? - have been at it far longer than I have. There are, however, a few things I've learned, since giving birth last October, and though most of my friends are well past the baby stage, there are some who aren't, and for those, I offer these "Three Must-Haves for the First Three Months."
1) The Britax B-Agile Stroller. I tell you this: if I could, I would ride around in this thing myself. As smoothly as it strolls, it feels like the Lexus of travel systems, though at a Toyota price. Remembering my sister's hard-to-maneuver, circa 1999 stroller, I was determined to find one that was easy to glide. With the Britax, my mission was accomplished. Think cutting through butter - only not the hard kind of butter that's been in the fridge for a few weeks, the kind that's been softened by sitting out on the counter, because your mom forgot to put it up after making the mashed potatoes. Now, that's SMOOTH.
That fact alone is reason enough to love it. Imagine that ease, however, coupled with the convenience of two-step folding. You push a button; you pull a strap. As Velvet Jones would say, "It's as simple as that." I use this stroller for everything - I take it in to restaurants instead of using a high chair; I lay the reclining seat flat for emergency diaper changes. Occasionally, I even use it to stroll my son. I do not have the words to express how much I love this lightweight-but-sturdy piece of mechanical mastery.
Just as fantastic is the ...
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| Thank you, Aunt Belva! I love it! |
As is the ...
So there you have it.
Babies R Us would have you believe that it takes WAY more than these. Things that sing and shake and vibrate in the nite are as necessary to their brand of motherhood as sugar is to sweet tea, but I'm here to tell you, they aren't. At least in my experience, they aren't. In my experience, all the tangibles you actually need are these.
Oh, yeah. And diapers. And a crib. And a swing. And ... well, nevermind.
What are YOUR favorite things for Baby?
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
"Reunited, and it feels so good."
Have we met?I'm Kristin.
Four major holidays, five Wildcat losses, and a three month old son ago, I used to blog here, periodically posting pictures of my family or the odd YouTube video to remind me of when things didn't seem so bleak around my old Kentucky home.
I'd like to try that again.
But first, there's somebody you've got to meet. Here he is - the boy who put the "... and Biscuit, too" in "Two Hues of Blue," my sweet little, itty bitty JONESIE BONES!
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| Robert "Jones" Pressley born October 16, 2012 6 lbs., 1 oz. 18 3/4 inches long |
That's not his real name, of course. His REAL name is Robert Jones Pressley, and he was named not for the golfer (no matter WHAT my husband says) but for his daddy (Jeremy Robert Pressley) and my great granddaddy (Philip Jones Leslie).
I'd blame my blogging hiatus on him, but it's not his fault. It's mostly the fault of my complete inability to figure out how to keep the house clean, the baby fed, and the friends visited, while still keeping the blog updated. To be honest, I'm STILL not sure I know how to do all that, but now that I have a three month old whose infrequent smiles are, in my admittedly biased opinion, too cute to not share, I'm sure gonna give it the old sporting try.
Won't you join me in the journey?
Friday, August 10, 2012
First Time for Everything
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Best.Text.EVER.
We quarrel over Presidential choices. We argue about paper versus plastic, and we just can't seem to decide whether technology has made our lives better or worse.
Every now and then, though, something happens to tip my opinions in favor of one way or the other. Today was one of those days. I received a video text from a certain nine-year-old niece.
And I have never been so thankful for my cell phone.
We love you, too, Bess!
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Run, Lori, run!
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| Judging by this photo, can you guess which of us had modeling classes as a child? |
For nearly a year now, Lori's been serving on the Walt Disney World Mom's Panel. It's an incredible, dream-come-true kind of gig you get by either promising Mickey he and Min can raise your first born child as their own or by participating in so many RunDisney events that that the folks in Orlando can't help but take notice. That's the way Lori landed it (well, that plus an incredibly competitive selection process!), and she's doing as great a job on the panel as she did in the video.
Mayme would be so proud, Leri!
But I'd STILL be her favorite.
Monday, June 25, 2012
my Happy Place
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| a man in his element |
To be honest, mine kinda changes, depending on the season and my mood. When it's fall, I wanna be in a football stadium. Summertime? Pawleys Island, please, and there is rarely (by which I mean "never") a time when I don't strongly desire to be at Walt Disney World or wherever I'll find the Four I Adore, OR, better yet, at Walt Disney World with the Four I Adore. "Happy"? Try "euphoric."
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| I wish you could see this circa 1996 jet ski up close. On the side of its purple body is written the word "Jeremy." In turquoise. If I didn't already love him, I'm pretty sure that ultra-retro Dream Machine would seal the deal for my Tarheel. |
That explains why we've already spent a couple of weekends out there this summer. One of those weekends, in fact, offered something for both of us - he got to be on the water. I, on the other hand, got to know that Confederate Railroad was opening for George Jones (assuming "No Show" showed) at a venue sitting on the banks of the lake. Sweetly, he suggested we ride the boat over to see if we could catch any of the concert while parked in the pontoon. Unfortunately, we couldn't. We could, however, ride around the massive lake for such a long time afterwards that the sky was pitch black before we headed back to the house.
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| fiery sky |
What I wasn't thinking about was the fact that we were essentially in the middle of an ebony desert. Lake landmarks that lead the way by day were completely enveloped by the dark of nite. To me, a Lake Chatuge newbie, everything looked as non-descript as an early-pregnancy ultrasound; one cove was completely indistinguishable from the other.
In spite of this, though, I wasn't afraid. After all, this is Jeremy's lake! He knows it in right, out right, right up right, down right! Why in the world would I be worried that he'd get us lost?! Worrying, in fact, didn't even cross my mind ... until it crossed my mind that it hadn't crossed my mind.
"Man," I thought, suddenly stricken by the dark of the nite, "I can't believe I'm not scared. I must really trust this man!"
Then it hit me: shouldn't I just as blindly trust the Lord? After all, the whole UNIVERSE is His "lake." Exponentially better than Jeremy knows Chatuge, our loving God "knows the plans He has for me ..." (Jer. 29:11). After all, He planned my days before one of them came to pass (Ps. 139: 16). Still, instead of lounging mindlessly while He steers the ship of my life, I try to sit shotgun. I want to see the map of where we're heading before we even leave the dock. Surely, I'll have some input as to the route we'll take. Certainly, my way is better. Right?
Wrong.
"HIS way is perfect ..." (Ps. 18:30).
Realizing that and trusting it as blindly as I trusted my husband on our pitch-colored cruise?
Now THAT is a happy place.
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| our midnite ride |
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
To My Husband, on Attending our Second Funeral Together
"This is the second funeral we've been to together," he told me as we headed, hand in hand, across the church parking lot. Jeremy's good about remembering things like that. He can tell you where we went on our first five dates, which episodes of Andy Griffith have Gomer and which have Goober, and, of course, what number of funerals we've attended since meeting 16 months ago. In case you were wondering.
This particular funeral was a very worshipful occasion. While we were there, though, I couldn't help but think about a few other things I'd like for Jeremy to remember. These things would probably have never come to mind, were it not for the baby we're expecting, but in light of our upcoming son, I asked myself, "If this were my funeral, what are those things I'd want to be sure Jeremy never forgot?"
Morbid? Maybe. Will my mother maim me for even entertaining such thoughts? Highly likely, but in the uncertainty of this day and age, where babies are born with unsurmountable maladies and women my age are stricken with diseases once reserved for the elderly, it's really important to me to be explicit about my child's rearing.
I wrote my thoughts in a letter to Jeremy, and he gave me permission to share it with you today:
Dear Jeremy,
First things first: I want you to know that you are the most wonderful man I have ever known. You were a spectacular husband, way, way, waaaayyyy better than I deserved, and so worth the wait, and if God leads you to remarry now that I'm gone, I want you to feel NO GUILT for it. I want you to be happy, but more than that, I want you to pursue God's plan - and more than THAT, I want you to see that Biscuit pursues God's plan. As it is written in III John 1:4,
"I have NO GREATER JOY than to hear that my children are walking in the truth."
To that end, I ask these things:
- Please ONLY marry a woman who seeks first the Kingdom of God (Matthew 6:33) and who will DILIGENTLY teach our son to do the same (Deuteronomy 6:7).
- Teach him diligently about the faith of his fathers. "... talk of [it] when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise." Don't you ever - and I mean EVER - abdicate your direction of his little life to a church or a school. In that vein, be vigilant about the doctrine of your church. Remember that there are those who claim Christ who will only lead you astray (Matthew 24:4-5).
- Lead him, as the Good Shepherd leads you, in paths of righteousness (Psalm 23:3). Develop in him a hunger for the things of God by exposing him to them, as opposed to the trappings of this world. Don't let Christianity be the afterthought of his life. Make it the centerpiece. The Bible says we are sanctified by the Truth; "[God's] Word is Truth" (John 17:17), so saturate his life with God's Word that he may be sanctified. Do NOT let pop culture dictate his tastes in entertainment. Guard his ears and eyes; protect his innocence from a sinful society that longs to rob him of it. Remember to "be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion seeking someone to devour" (I Peter 5:8). Don't give your enemy an entry point into your home.
- Discipline him. Remember, even when he tries to tell you otherwise, that discipline is a good thing. First of all, it demonstrates your love for him. "Whoever spares the rod hates his son, but he who loves him is diligent to discipline him" (Proverbs 13:24). Secondly, Proverbs 22:15 says that "Folly is bound up in the heart of a child, but the rod of discipline drives it far from him." Clearly, discipline will teach our boy to grow into a wise man. Finally and most importantly, discipline, it is promised in Proverbs 23:13-14, will save his soul, so follow the example of the Lord, Who "disciplines the one He loves and chastises every son whom He receives" (Hebrews 12:6), and discipline Biscuit firmly, consistently, and compassionately.
- Be liberal in sharing him with my family. Don't withhold him from them. Make sure he knows both branches of his family tree. In that spirit, don't forget there's Kentucky in his blood, and if, through the genius of genetics, he somehow ended up with my need to spend summer nites sitting on the Ohio River bank, catching lightning bugs and listening to mosquitoes fry on his granddad's bug whacker, while laughing with his cousins, 'til he nearly chokes on his oblong bowl of chips and cheese, let him.
- Along those lines, make sure he knows about my Mayme. Make sure he knows that I wanted to make his life as magical as she made mine.
- Finally, Sweetheart, don't force feed him all-Tarheels, all the time. Also encourage his inner Wildcat, until that magical age when he realizes that eight national championships is greater than five and can make is own informed choice as to which basketball legacy he prefers to be a part of.
I love you!
Kristin
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Someone Else's Ultrasound
In his tongue-in-cheek "Big Mistake," David Wilcox expresses this shock way better than I ever could:
They taught us kids in school, between the recess breaks,
that the universe just sorta fell together like a Big Mistake.
It started with a bang that set the pieces flying.
Then it cooled and twirled into dinosaurs and dandelions.
CHORUS:
It was a big mistake to have eyes that see,
to have love like this inside of me,
to have lips that smile, as I swim your kiss,
to have minds that will forever every part of this.
Ah, the moonlight shrouded in the clouds above,
and the autumn leaves and the falling love,
the still reflection in the moonlight lake,
All, they said, it was a Big Mistake! It was a BIG Mistake!
"Mistake"? Hardly. A "mistake" is expecting me to be able to cook, just because I have all of the utensils. Or hoping the laundry will fold itself if I just leave it in the dryer long enough (it doesn't; trust me - I've tried). The creation and formation of new life is no mistake, and it can only be wrought through the work of the only wise God, to Whom belongs all "glory, majesty, dominion, and authority." The only "mistake" is believing otherwise.
Don't believe me? See for yourself.
"I praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made ..."
- Psalm 139:14a
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Bye, Bye, Babies: Ten Days Without the Four I Adore
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| As the family addage goes, here the kids are "prayed up, packed up, ready to go ..." on their second visit to Poland. |
Yesterday, she and my brother-in-law left for a mission trip to Poland, which, in and of itself, isn't even slightly offensive. But here's the catch. She took every single one of the Four I Adore with her.
WHO DOES SHE THINK SHE IS?!?
After dropping them off at the airport, I discussed the subject with my friend Leslie. "Shouldn't she at least leave one ... as collateral?!" I asked. "Plus, it just makes fiscal sense. One less child times three meals a day times ten days in Poland equals buying a whole lot more of that Turon gingerbread they've been bragging about since their last trip!"
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| Camera-shy Camden didn't get out of the frame fast enough on this one! Caught ya', Doodlebug! |
Thank God for SKYPE!
And thank God for their safe travels.
And thank God for videos like this to tide me over, until my boys and girls get back home where they belong.
If you think of the Nunnerys over the next several days, please do pray for their safety, health, and for their undelayed return to the U S of A, where Aunta will be waiting, as always, with "candy in one hand and a camera in the other!"
Thursday, May 17, 2012
"It's a ..." BOOOOYYYYY! That's not what I expected!
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| 15 weeks along on the happy day when Biscuit first really showed himself - I say it's a "happy day" for several reasons but mostly because now people will know I'm not just wearing muumuus and stretch pants, because I've skipped the gym on too many consecutive mornings! |
In fact, before he left for work this morning, I asked Jeremy, "I'm thinking about blogging what I journaled yesterday; what do you think?"
As usual, he gave me a very supportive green light, and in that spirit, here I go.
Yesterday, as you may or may not know, Jeremy and I were able to get a glance at the Biscuit's gender. We aren't completely positive, but both my sister-in-law-the-midwife AND an ultrasound technician think he's a boy. Too soon to say for sure? At fifteen weeks, that may be the case, but both Jeremy and I agree that these sweet ladies wouldn't have even ventured a guess if they weren't pretty certain.
This is where the "politically incorrect" part begins.
To be honest, and to my great surprise, I felt like the wind was knocked out of me when I heard the words "It's a Boy!" I tried to act unaffected. I returned Jeremy's celebratory kiss, as if I were as pumped as Mr. Pressley, but the truth was, it stung. Apparently, I was more set than I thought I was on the idea of a daughter - who, I was certain, would love Dorothy Fields as much as her mama does.
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| This very menacing profile (?) was the best picture we could get at yesterday's ultrasound. I'll tell you this: he looks nothing like the name we've picked out for him. Judging by this pic, he should be called Hulk or Slayer or Hulk the Slayer. Anybody know where I can get some spike-encrusted diaper covers? |
The very friendly medical staff, of course, showered us with congratulations. I feigned elation, hoping the palpable dip in my spirits was wholly unnoticeable to anyone other than myself. Jeremy, ever perceptive, did notice. As we walked away from the check-out desk (and several times after), he said, "I'm sorry you're disappointed."
I admitted the truth to the man who knows me best, adding, as we drove home, how silly I was being. Though, judging by the picture to the right, he's got a horrifying resemblance to Skeletor from "He-Man," our sweet baby has two arms, two legs, both hemispheres of his brain, a strong heart, and his daddy's long, bony fingers. Plus, my blood pressure is perfect, and my weight gain is well within the parameters I'd hoped to stay in for the early part of my pregnancy. Biscuit's got two (ginormous) eye sockets, a backbone - all he needs to grow big and strong. How silly - no, STUPID - of me to make an idol of a baby girl's name that my heart's been set on, since I was twelve years old.
"It's just that I wanted my baby ..." I started telling myself. It's like God stopped me before I could even complete the thought, though.
"No, Kristin," He whispered. "He's not your baby; He's MY baby."
Instantly, my attitude shifted when confronted by God's truth. Our mighty Creator is crafting this beloved boy to serve His purposes, not to give me a baby doll to dress up or a progeny to propagate my passion for the American musical. Baby Biscuit is being knit together to advance the Kingdom of the One Who has already planned his days.
What an incredible gift - and a humbling challenge - to be the one entrusted with his care!
As we continued our drive back to Canton, I also thought of Hannah. She surrendered the son for whom she had prayed, to the service of the One Who granted her request. In the same way, Jeremy and I want to give our son to God, to fulfill the role He's made for him rather than to be the extension of some self-serving agenda we've set for ourselves.
Sweet, sweet, sorta-scary-looking Jones, I love you so much.
I am so thankful and humbled that God would choose me and your daddy
"Father, God, thank You for my baby boy. Lord, continue to give him good health, and prepare Jeremy and me even now to show him how to be a super strong man of God. Lord in Heaven, we give him already right back to You with the humble request that You would equip us to train him, to teach him diligently to be the man that You made him to be. Be gracious to him that he may walk in Your ways all the days of his life. Hem him in when he would be tempted to go astray. Thank You, God, for entrusting us with Your son. Empower us now to be faithful to the call You've given us.
We love you. In Jesus's name, Amen."
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Jeremy has an announcement to make ...
In other words ...
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| Jeremy & his parents |
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| Jeremy & his nephews |
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| three of the Four I Adore, including Lila, who asked if I had my baby yet. Not quite, Huntybun. Not quite. |
Not exactly, Kiddo, but I like where your head is.
Tomorrow, I'm hoping to post where MY head is. In the meantime, suffice it to say somebody better call Coach Cal.
There's a new little recruit in North Carolina!
Sunday, May 13, 2012
"Sing Alleluia!"
This morning, though, I got to get a little taste of the place I love so much. Visiting Mom for Mother's Day serendipitously corresponded with the Four I Adore singing in an ensemble of several young Hampton Park-ers.
I may be biased, but I think they're absolutely, without a doubt, undeniably the most perfect people on the planet.
I defy you to watch this and disagree with me.
"Sing alleluia! Sing to the Lord of love!
Sing and be joyful.
Rejoice in God above.
Alleluia, praise! Alleluia, praise His name,
Who came to Earth by human birth
to be my Guide and Friend.
I will tell the world the wonder that I know.
God's love watches over me wherever I may go.
Oh, praise! Alleluia! Praise, rejoice, and sing,
for God gives us everything.
Sing alleluia! Sing to the Lord of love!
Sing and be joyful.
Rejoice in God above.
Alleluia, praise! Alleluia, praise His name,
Who came to Earth by human birth
to be my Guide,
walking by my side,
to be my Guide and Friend."
Friday, May 11, 2012
Soapbox and Then Some
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| Much as I love my Cats, there are about 6,000 things I'd rather my child wear to her first UK game then a blue and white tutu - a Michael Kidd-Gilchrist jersey comes to mind or, maybe, a hand-knitted Anthony Davis unibrow cap. |
PLEASE NOTE: I'm diplomatically resisting the urge to include links to posts like these (bless my heart), but suffice it to say that none of these blogs belong to any friends of mine. That to say, if you start to wonder if I'm talking about you, I'm NOT. No one that I know personally does this. I'm talking about the type of blog written, for the most part, by well-intentioned women who inexplicably have time to write multiple entries each day about the crippling minutae of life with toddlers who would, I'm betting, be exponentially better behaved if Mama would break free from Blogger to do a little disciplining. But, then again, if Baby were behaved, what would Mama blog about - besides, of course, hairbows and tutus.
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| Now THAT'S something to blog about! |
"Here's a good idea: HAVE A POINT. It makes it so much more interesting for the listener!"
Now that I'm off my soapbox, I can get to the point of today's post. Trust me, it isn't to brag about Biscuit's hairbows. Today, I want to boast on the God Who, even now, is knitting her (or, for my husband's sake, him) together in my womb.
Perhaps the most amazing part of pregnancy so far has been experiencing Psalm 139 in a whole new way. Parts of the passage have always been some of my favorites in the Bible - God wrote my days and knows my thoughts and hems me in? "Such knowledge is too wonderful for me ...!"
Other parts of it didn't really make sense, though, until I read them in light of this video. In case you can't tell - and trust me, I couldn't, either, had my sister-in-law-the-midwife not explained it - it's Biscuit, at 10 weeks in utero, practicing what I hope are the steps to the South Carolina Shag. To me, s/he looks like a toad / chipmunk / manatee who's about to walk on the moon.
See for yourself.
As I watched this clip for the 3,000th time, though, I thought about another part of Psalm 139:
"Your eyes saw my unformed substance."
"That's what that is!" I shouted in the midst of my "Eureka!" moment. What looks like an essentially shapeless blob of baby is what the psalmist called "unformed substance." However "unformed" it may look, though, the great Creator is molding and shaping and crafting my child into precisely the person He means His Biscuit to be. "My frame was not hidden from You when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth," David writes.
What incredible knowledge to know that the God Who works in me is, already, at work in my child and that the child who is hidden from the rest of the world is completely seen and fully known by the God Who is making him (or, for my sake, her).
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Now, I know it's not a picture of her first hairbow, but still. Raise your hand, if you'd like to hear Biscuit's heartbeat.
Me, too.
Here it is - our baby's mighty ticker at 8 weeks old.
"I praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; wonderful are Your works; my soul knows it very well."
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Oh, and while we're talking baby headgear - there's a chance we'll know next Wednesday whether we'll be buying hairbows of ballcaps. Cross your fingers that Biscuit lets us get a clean look!
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