Nine months

So Essie turned nine months yesterday. And I'm quickly realizing she's nine months going on two years. 

She's grown up so much in just the past couple of weeks. She decided she wants solid food, and lots of it. I was sort of late starting her on baby food and it seems she's jumped right ahead to wanting whatever we're eating. She loves to feed herself and is pretty great at it. She can also sign "more" when she wants more food. Although her preferred method of letting us know she wants more is still screaming.

We see this face a lot.

She's crawling everywhere, trying to keep up with her brother and sister. Which means she's all over the house in a blink of an eye.

She's just starting to pull up, mainly on us, but wants to do it on everything at every moment. When I go to put her down on the floor she straightens her legs and refuses to sit, like she thinks she can stand. But she can't just yet. Although I'm sure that's right around the corner.

My favorite development is that she calls me "Mama" all the time. It's her only word. Of course, I absolutely love it. But it's just a little heartbreaking when I am trying to cook dinner and I hear, "Mama! Mama! Mama!" How can I resist that? So it just might make me pick her up more often. I also think she's getting a second tooth, so she's a little bit grumpy lately and does need me.

She's not actually grumpy here, just displaying her serious side.

And grumpy for Essie is a sure sign that she's not herself. Because "herself" is totally joyful and just the sweetest little thing you could ever imagine. She's just so darn happy. And her laugh is crazy infectious.

She's still often compared to a baby doll. Which I'm sure has a lot to do with her gorgeous hair (and her round face..and her porcelain skin).

She adores Clara and Luke, and the feeling is mutual. I am constantly asking them to "make Essie smile." They have their go-to methods. Clara's right now is jumping off the couch (whatever works) and Luke's is singing her "Twinkle Twinkle."

I have many more in-depth thoughts about raising this sweet girl and lots of thoughts on adoption, but that'll have to wait. Happy nine months, Essie Grace! How blessed I am that you call me "mama."

A brush with bullying

I've learned lately that there can be some benefits to bullying. Okay, it might be a little much to call what happened to poor Lukie bullying. I'm one who tends to think that word is overused nowadays. But then my kid gets picked on and I'm all about whipping out the B word.

Our kids spend an hour-and-a-half each weekday at the gym daycare while we work out. The older two take part in a kidzercise class and absolutely love it. It's really great. The staff is awesome, it's a really nice facility, and they even get to exercise while they're there. They also get to meet and play with other children. And even though we're just newbie preschool homeschoolers at the moment, it's still nice to be able to say they get that much-sought after "socialization" that everyone worries so much about.

Every day on the ride home we ask the kids what they did in Kidszone that day. They'll sometimes give us quick one-word answers, usually too tired out to say much. Then, a couple weeks ago, Luke became more talkative. He was eating lunch upon returning home from the gym when he, without even having been asked about it, told Ryan, "my boys at the gym called me diaper-butt today."

Broke my heart in two. Or maybe like a billion trillion.
 

My boys. Oh my goodness. These were not just "some boys" or "the mean kids" or "big kids." No, they were his boys.

At first we thought he didn't get it. He told Ryan that he was mad because he actually wanted them to call him "Jake" (from this show). Oh, the innocence. And we thought maybe his use of the phrase "my boys" showed he wasn't mad at them and didn't realize they were antagonizing. It still broke my heart. Maybe even more so because I thought he was being mocked by kids he thought were his buddies and he had absolutely no idea.

I hated to draw attention to it and risk making him feel bad but also couldn't resist asking about it the next day. Did it happen again? According to Clara, it had. And she told the boys not to say it. Clara, just a year older, got it. I asked if the ladies at Kidszone knew about it and they said no. I toyed with mentioning it to the staff the next morning, but it's not in my personality to make a big deal out of something so I stayed quiet.

There wasn't any more talk about it for a few days. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Luke potty-trained himself. Like overnight.

Coincidence?

The same kid who has resisted potty-training at every turn, whose constantly-poopy diapers I feared I would still be changing years from now, just started telling me the pee was coming and running to the (big) potty, whipping his diaper and shorts off, hopping on himself and going. And sometimes he wouldn't even tell me. I'd just hear the noises of the toilet seat and realize what was up.

He's been a dream to potty train. It hasn't been without accidents, but he's also ridden in a car 25 minutes two ways without wetting his pants. I'm a big advocate of not forcing your child and waiting until they are ready - for your own sake. I bang my head against the wall when they aren't willing. So incredibly frustrating. But to have them do it themselves? That's my kind of mothering.

Of course, it helps that he wants to be like his big sister and knows exactly what to do from watching her (she's also played the role of coach in recent days). But I can't help but think that being called "diaper-butt" may have had something to do with this minor miracle. I mean, really. He's sharp as a tack. How could he not have known? And the same child who never has a peep to share about the gym just came out with this story of being picked on over lunch. It had to be weighing on him. Poor thing.

Is it bad to change yourself to avoid bullying? Maybe if it's something that doesn't need to be changed. But in this case saying goodbye to diapers was inevitable and a good thing and maybe Luke used it as motivation. He turned a negative into a positive.

Still breaks my heart though. My sweet little diaper-butt.

Speaking of Lukie growing up, I've stopped nursing him. It's been a couple months now. I let him self-wean and he happened to be just past 2-and-a-half-years when that time came.

I absolutely loved nursing. Loved it. And from the day I began (maybe even during pregnancy) I feared the day I'd stop nursing him because I knew it would likely be my one and only nursing experience. As it turned out, I did get to nurse another baby (to some degree) which was an unexpected blessing. But Luke nursed a few months longer than Essie did, so he turned on the lights and closed up shop. I officially have no milk left.

And you know what? It's really been okay. Of course, I would love to nurse more babies. I'd give anything to be one of those moms who nurses for years and years without a break. What a blessing that would be (I know it's not for everybody but it would be for me). But it's okay. I got to do it. I loved the experience. And, more than anything, our God is full of surprises. Just because I think the odds are leaning one way, doesn't mean it will turn out like that. Or, it may. We just don't know.

And, anyway, I'm too busy with my three rambunctious kids to spend much time being sad about no longer breastfeeding any of them.

So my Lukie is all grown up. Waaaaahhhh! Thankfully he's not ALL about being a big boy just yet. He likes to tell us he's too little to do things all the time, when it works to his advantage. Oh, and he still fights sleep at night and ends up in our bed. Ryan hates it but I (not-so) secretly love it. Luke and I have an agreement. He's not through being my baby boy just yet.

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Can I give a shameless plug for my husband's facebook fan page? They're really pushing at his TV station for the reporters and anchors to get more "likes" for their pages and I just couldn't say "no" to him today when he asked me to share it on my blog. So go "like" it if you haven't already. Pretty please??? Because you know you all want the latest news from Central VA.

Celebrate good times

It's been a while! I hate to let so much time pass without checking in here, but there are just no free moments anymore. This blog began to suffer when I took up photography. But it's growing cobwebs now thanks to something I thought I'd never do again - running.

I started about a month ago when we were visiting my parents and couldn't go to the gym. I ran cross-country in high school, but as soon as it was over I swore I'd never run again. Ugh. But here I am, running every day (except for two days in the past month!), including a few 5Ks every week.

Ugh.

I'm still waiting for that runner's high everyone talks about. I guess mine comes when I dive into my frozen yogurt cone I eat every night, thanks to all those extra calories I earned. The weight is coming off at a snail's pace, but I can't complain. Down 23 pounds now and fitting into clothes that had been tucked away in the attic.

Enough about physical fitness.

The dessert party for my parents' 40th wedding anniversary was a blast.

The happy couple even let me take some rare photos of them...

Notice Luke stuck, dangling from the swing behind them.

My nuclear family, all together for a photo..
 

 The desserts were a hit...

 
 Also a hit - the photobooth...

I just had to throw this picture in - my parents on their wedding day, with my dad's parents, including my grandmother Esther. Wasn't she beautiful and completely elegant?

Once back from New York, we had some anniversary celebrating of our own to do. It was nine years on September 4. Just four years ago, I would have never thought we'd have three babies in this photo with us...

I'm so blessed to be married to such a wonderful, hard-working and loving man. The babies and I really hit the jackpot.

The other big news around here is that the girls now officially share a room. This past weekend we finally converted the crib back to an actual crib, but we weren't sure exactly when Essie would be actually sleeping it (she had been in a pack and play in our room).

Clara watched on Sunday as Ryan got the crib all ready. Then, at bedtime, she sweetly and excitedly asked if Essie would be sleeping in her room that night. "No," Ryan told her. "Not just yet. The mattress still needs a sheet." Of course, that was just an excuse while we assessed the situation for a few more days. Ten minutes later, though, when we thought she was sleeping, Clara called us to her room. She proudly showed us she had gently laid a blanket out on the mattress. "See, Daddy? It's all ready for Essie now!"

We couldn't resist, and Essie has slept in "their" room every night since.

I mean, I get it. Who wouldn't want to share a room with this girl???

Oh, and speaking of this sweet thing, her adoption is final! How could I forget that??

I took this to commemorate the day...

This gorgeous dress was on clearance at a consignment shop for $5!!

And this is us out celebrating with my family (we heard while in NY so my parents treated the entire family to a dinner in Essie's honor)...

And because I can't not include this... It's Essie on her 8 month birthday...

That FACE!

Well I still write posts in my head every day so hopefully I'll be back here in the next few days. I know, I know. You are all anxiously waiting. If anyone even still checks in here!

Diets and donuts

After a little plateau, my diet is going pretty well. I'm down 22 pounds and I'm working out more than ever. The working out part is HIGHLY unlike me, so I'm very surprised by myself. I think I went about 15 years without stepping foot in a gym. Sometimes I'm really not sure what has come over me, but then I remember that it's all in the name of being able to eat more. Ultimately, it's always about food.

Speaking of food, we have an exciting event coming up in our family - a party to celebrate my parents' 40th wedding anniversary. Isn't that awesome? Forty years. My sisters and I are throwing them a dessert party next week and there will be about a dozen amazing, delectable, carefully-selected-from-Pinterest desserts. And I won't be having any. Well, maybe one.

I'll be making my mother's famous chocolate chip cookies (dipped in chocolate, because, why not?), individual pineapple upside down cakes, and donuts, among other things.

I have to practice, of course, so I started today by making these puppies...

I know the calories. 228. Is it bad if I use ALL 1200 of my calories on desserts that day??

I used this recipe and, as usual, I had a lot of help making them. Clara loves to bake. And cook. But, most especially, play in the sink.

I always let her help in the kitchen in the name of education. I figure if I don't work with her on anything else that day, at least she learned something through baking. And then there's less guilt for that episode of Sophia the First she watched that morning.

We had another helper, too.

And when he woke up from his nap, Luke was happy to help with the eating. Doing his part to keep his mommy on her diet.

I think he was actually sleep-eating, and woke up at the end wondering what had hit him.

 Clara, meanwhile, had three. 

 

I had half of one. And it was amazing. 

Next up - my own creation that I've yet to actually try out - German chocolate cake moon pies. I found a never-been-used moon pie maker at Goodwill (my new obsession) for $5! 

And how do I resist eating them all, you may wonder? Ummm.... the grace of God?? I really don't know. All I know is that I have incredible will power when I diet. And for that I am very grateful.

It also doesn't hurt that I have a lot of takers. Nothing lasts too long around here.

When the questions begin

The other day I was talking with Clara about where babies come from (you know...tummies), and we began discussing, as we do at times, how she was adopted.
 

She has all the answers down - that Luke came from mommy's tummy, but that she came from another mommy's tummy. She likes to name everyone in her life who is adopted (her friend E, his brother and sister, her uncle Joe, Essie). I even once overheard her telling her Nana how she was really, really small when she was born (we've told her about being a preemie and her hospital stay).

We talk openly about adoption when it comes up and don't shy away from age-appropriate discussions.

But this time, she didn't just accept that she came from another mommy's tummy. Which shouldn't surprise me, with how grown-up she has become.

"What's her name?" she asked.

My heart sank.

After my mind did momentary cartwheels, I told her that we don't know her name but that we can call her Tummy Mommy (first thing I could think of, which I must have read on other blogs. Why wasn't I prepared for this?).

"No, I don't want to call her that," she said.

My heart sank again. She can see right through me, I thought.

"I want to call her Big Tummy Mommy!"

Phew. She's still three-years-old and was only being silly. Or, actually, she was probably being literal. After all, a pregnant tummy is big.

Clara wasn't finished though. As she climbed up to cuddle in the chair with me, her sweet little-kid voice asked a very big-kid question: "Can I meet her some day?"

I honestly can't even tell you what I answered. I probably said something along the lines of "maybe..." or "I don't know..." And she was fine with whatever it was. Like I said, she's still three.

But some day she won't be three and she won't be fine with Tummy Mommy's and I-don't-know's. She'll want more information than I'll probably be able to provide her. At least, not until she's of an age when she can legally search for it herself.

Of course, it's not the searching and the wondering I have a problem with; it's my little girl's heart. We don't want our kids to ever suffer, you know? As parents, we tear up over shots and skinned knees and God forbid someone doesn't want to play with them on the playground. You might as well rip my heart right out and stomp on it. So I sort of dread the day when she, or Essie, will want more details than I have to give, or will want to really know her birth parents, and will be sad.

Realistically, I know all of my children will experience suffering in their lives. But a mom can hope to minimize that, right? So I tell myself I'll do my best to comfort them and use it as an opportunity to teach them about the value in suffering and turning to God. I'll be able to put my years of infertility to good use - not that I mastered suffering during that time, but I definitely learned what doesn't work (i.e.  fighting it with every fiber of my being despite it being something I have zero control over, just in case you're curious).

I absolutely love that we have two daughters whose stories include adoption, and I hope they will be a support to each other when emotions may become confusing in the future. One of the closest people to them in their lives will share a part of their story and will understand, at least on some level, what they may be feeling.

But it's also the differences that worry me. We know so much about Essie's amazing birth family, so much I'm excited to share with her one day. We were blessed with the opportunity to meet her beautiful birth mother and I treasure those moments we had with her. We know where she gets her blue eyes, and her dark, curly hair.

But we know next to nothing about Clara's birth family, and it tears me up inside for her. I can just picture, years from now, her sad pre-teen face, not understanding why I can't fill in more of the blanks.

Although it hasn't even yet happened, I can't do anything to change that it may. But what I can do is teach all of my children that everyone's story is different and special. That everyone has hardships. And that life isn't fair.

And that, also, life is wonderful and beautiful and a gift from God that is to be cherished and relished.

It may not help her avoid the sadness, but I can only hope it helps it to pass more quickly.

I also know how one processes something like this depends a lot on their individual personality. Being adopted could be the defining moment of her life, or it could be just one of many things that makes her Clara, depending on her temperament. I hope I can do whatever I can to help it be the latter, for her own sake. It is important, don't get me wrong. But I hope with any negativity it may one day bring, that she can see beauty in it too. That it can teach her, firsthand, that God can make all things new.

For now, I will try to preserve the carefree, silly nature of childhood for as long as possible.

I will take her questions as they come and try to do my best as her mama. I may not have been her Tummy Mommy, but I was put on earth to protect her, care for her, and love her. And that I can handle.

In which I gush

Brace yourself... there are several photos ahead of Essie in a tutu.

(Hopefully I didn't lose too many of you right there. I know moms gushing over their infants always makes for riveting blog posts).

Essie is now a glorious seven months old (and, yes, she's still of that age where we mark the monthly birthday with a backyard photo shoot).

I absolutely love this age, but seven just sounds so old. More than half-way to a year. She'll be walking and talking and keeping up with her crazy siblings before we know it.

Speaking of talking, she started saying "bababa" and "mamama" and "dadada" - in that order - last weekend. Sweet girl was sick with double ear infections and she chose that time to start talking. Why not? she says. She likes a challenge.

And speaking of her crazy siblings, she adores them. ADORES them. I need to make a video of her laughing at them because it's ridiculously adorable. She can be crying and then spot Clara or Luke and immediately light up. She will then laugh her little butt off over whatever silly thing they are doing. You know, like throwing themselves into the wall, or crossing their eyes.

I hate sounding all braggy about my kids, but I feel like adoption affords me a little leeway when it comes to that, since I a) can't take credit for their looks, and b) can't take credit for much of anything the first year. So here goes: Essie is the most amazing baby ever. She is pure sweetness, happiness, cuteness, cuddliness, and she smells good too. She sleeps, she hardly ever fusses and she's just easy. Not that difficult babies are any less loveable (Luke, I'm looking at you). They are their own rewarding challenge. And it's not like Essie never cries (she actually is having a hard time falling asleep tonight, go figure!). There's just this something special about her that makes my heart swell up every time I look at her.

I know us moms always say it, but I really can't imagine life without her. I thank God every day for factoring us into the story of her life. What an incredible blessing. It just blows me away.

Happy seven months, sweet girl. Seriously, how am I supposed to handle that cuteness?

The best moments

It's no secret I like to take pictures. I take hundreds each week, and that number would be much higher if my children actually liked having their photo taken. 

I love photography, but it's more than that. I like capturing moments, whether candid or posed, whether I'm behind the camera or someone else is. If everyone's dressed up, I want to have permanent proof. If we're going to the beach, we need to remember the day with a picture. If it's a random Tuesday and the mood strikes me, I want to never forget how my daughter smiled when she was six months old. I like freezing moments in time, especially (only?) happy moments.

Then the other day Ryan saw a tweet from a Sports Illustrated writer asking if any of his 85,000 followers had a photo of the single best moment of their life. It was something the writer was thinking about after watching tennis player Andy Murray win Wimbledon, and having what was most likely one of the happiest moments of his life photographed by thousands.

Ryan actually does have a photograph of the happiest moment of his life, so he responded to the tweet with this...

It's, understandably, one of my favorite photos ever. And not just because I'm holding my daughter, my very first child, for the very first time. It's because of the look on Ryan's face. Pure love. But I also know it's more than that. I might be wrong (we've never discussed what he was actually thinking here) but I'm guessing it was everything wrapped into one - seeing his daughter, but also seeing his wife holding their daughter after years and years of infertility heartache. I feel like I see him finally exhaling in this photo, thinking about how God was leading us to this moment with Clara all along and we finally made it.

The writer ended up re-tweeting Ryan's tweet, along with many, many others. Then today, our photo was included in a story on The Atlantic's website about the tweets of people's happiest moments.

I loved the article (make sure to read it if you get a chance). It made me realize that, as someone who loves capturing moments with photographs, I had actually never thought much about the moments in my life that had been captured.

We all have those moments, and often a few tie for the top honor. I think back on them from time to time, but I don't have the photos prominently displayed (with the exception of the one Ryan tweeted above; it's been on our fridge since we first arrived home from Louisiana and found that my sister-in-law had already mailed it to us). What a gift they are, though. And with all the time many of us spend feeling down, sad, frustrated, overwhelmed, why not look back on those moments more often?

So it got me thinking about what are some of the other happiest moments of my life. And, it turns out, I have photos of them all.

Like this one...

And this one...

And this...

And while it's not right up there with the birth of my children, this one still captured one of the most joyful nights of my life (it's Ryan and me receiving a standing ovation from family, friends and strangers, after the premier of our documentary about Eucharistic Adoration)...

These aren't all the best pictures. But even that makes sense - they're spontaneous and candid and the movement that comes with happiness often makes for blurry shots anyway.

I'm blessed to have these photos. And, more importantly, to have had the joyful experiences that they captured.