I am at a very happy place in my life. This past weekend my parents and my Granny stopped by for a visit. It was so special to see the culmination of generations of loving and growing and giving. That "someday" when I'll be holding grandbabies of my own seems so far off, and yet I know it will be here quicker than I could prepare for. 

Each phase of life brings such sweetness. I've witnessed my parents grow older and simultaneously grow happier.

It's such a funny thought, to think I could ever be happier than I am right now. 

And yet,

watching Daddy sing to Rosemary,

seeing Granny soak up Rosie smiles,

and silently feeling the joy of Mom as she is surrounded by those she loves…

I have proof that happiness grows…

and grows and grows.

Babies.

 

 (Timmy and older brother Kyle, 1985)

Timmy's older brother recently gave him this photo of the two of them in 1985. It is one of the few baby pictures I have of him, and when I look at his chubby, grinning face, I feel like I'm looking right at Rosemary. They have the same face shape, the same eyes, and that same adorable smirk.

(Me and my older sister Liz, 1988)

Tim says he wants Rosemary to look just like me, but I'm definitely in favor of her looking more like Timmy. 


I love my two blue-eyed babes. 

Shades for Rosemary.

Rosemary got herself some pretty cool shades today at Target. She's all ready to soak up some Hawaiian sunshine. 

This is her current face. She sucks her bottom lip and looks so darn adorable I can hardly stand it.

Oh, and our teething crisis is finally starting to pay off. The tiniest little nubbin of a tooth is poking through – her bottom left eye tooth. Which seems like a pretty hilarious first tooth. She's going to look like a baby dinosaur. 

Ohmygoodness.

Vintage Map… for 1¢

Yes, I really did find an awesome vintage map poster for one penny. As in, one hundredth of a dollar. It seems like a trick, but it isn't. I ordered mine, wondering what I would get…

and this is it.

It's beautiful. The quality is great, the countries are all in the right place, and everything is spelled correctly. Hmm.

I'm still wondering what the catch is.

(You can get one, too!)

Post-Note: The price just skyrocketed to 9¢.
You had better act fast, my friends.

Sweet.

Roses for Rosemary, lemon-blueberry cupcakes for breakfast, a snowy day at home with my Mr. Valentine…

(Perfection.)

Happy Valentine's Day!!

Anniversaries.

Timmy Text: Happy 3 years 2 months
from getting engaged! I love you sweety!

 

 (us two, newly engaged, 2008)

Not only does he remember my birthday, my half birthday, our dating anniversary, and our wedding anniversary (monthly as well as yearly), he also remembers our monthly anniversary of the day we were engaged.

He's a keeper, if I do say so myself!

Cra-zy.

 Last week was cra-zy, with an emphasis on crazy. 

Fun times involved hours of complete hysteria and inconsolable tears, waking up in the middle of the night to more tears, not-under-any-circumstances taking a nap, and a serious meltdown in the backseat during a longest-hour-of-my-life car ride.

Teething makes everyone in our house cry.

More (seriously) fun times included…

…getting an entire new Rosemary wardrobe of gorgeous dresses, shoes, tights, and sweaters from a dear friend whose baby girl was incredibly well-dressed. (See above picture. Yes, I sort her clothes by color.)

… visiting my parents.

… giving Rosemary her first drink from a cup.

… getting the second season DVD of Downton Abbey in the mail.

Here's to a new week full of fun.

Remembering a Birthday.

 At the end of the summer of 2004, I lost a best friend. At that point in my life I would have said I had several best friends, and he was one of them – the crazy, hilarious one.

It had been a summer of endless sunshine. Our days were crammed with bonfires, road trips, and movie nights. I was 17. We were careless and carefree and I never felt more independent or alive. Perched on the edge of childhood and adulthood, I thought I had everything figured out. When I look back to that time, all I see is a row smiling faces – dear faces of dear friends – and undimmed sunlight. The coming darkness of August 7^th approached silently - without a breath of warning and without time for goodbyes.

Just as July gave way to August, at the teetering point between summer’s end and autumn’s beginning, it happened. I was home alone. A phone call came, and with it, the sudden knowledge of his death. In an instant, he slipped away into a misty eternity where I could not reach him. I still cannot touch the intense pain that overtook me in those moments as I cried alone, and I shudder to remember the tears and the darkness of that night.

His death was an accident and a tragedy, and I could find no answers to my grief washed questioning. Up until that point, my life had never been touched by true, indescribable sorrow. His passing changed me. It woke me up to the hard edges of pain. It was also a burning reminder to cherish each happy moment, for I had learned that happiness is just one small fall away from grief.  Everything I had so confidently thought I had figured out curved and twisted into a big question mark of pain and wondering. The world became an unsafe place, where nothing is certain and you can’t count on anyone or anything still being there tomorrow – except God. 

I thought I would never recover, but gradually I learned that, while the pain of losing him would lessen, a new, subtle pain of “forgetting” him would continuously haunt me. I had to move on, and with each step away from my life at 17, I felt guilty for not lingering in that same place forever, frozen in time at his grave. The numbers etched in his granite tombstone are fixed, while the numbers of my days still continue. Sometimes I feel certain his heart would break if he could see my footprints at the cemetery long washed away. It’s been years.

But gradually I have learned that, while my heart has shifted, truly, I could never forget the boyish friend I had during that time in my life. It feels different, but the love is still there in that place. I may have forgotten the little parts, but I’ll never forget the most important ones. I have clear memories of long car rides, talking about dreams and life and God. And I have the echo of a thousand smiles resounding in my heart, leftover from endless laughter shared and silly jokes.

Today would have been his 25th birthday. 

Today I remember a good, good friend.

Happy Birthday, Josh.

Five.

 

At five months, Rosemary is getting a tooth or two. (And our normally cheerful girly has been such a little fuss-pants that I have accomplished just about zero of everything in the past six days.)

At five months, Rosemary likes to be naked and to chew on everything. She loves sweet potatoes, but seems to dislike peas. Her cheeks are so chubby I think they actually impair her vision somewhat, and she weighs just under sixteen pounds. She is already wearing some size 12 month clothes. Oh-my-goodness. 

I think her eyes are going to stay a soft sparkley blue, and her bald patches are starting to get new growth of significantly lighter hair.

Her grandpa calls her Raspberry.

My favorite part of the day is getting her out of her crib in the morning. She still sleeps through the night and goes to bed without problems. She loves Sophie the giraffe and she likes to hang out on her tummy.

So far, going gluten-free hasn't seemed to help her too much, but I have noticed that not eating gluten results in extreme weight loss (in me, not her), so we're all happy.

Happy because we choose to be,

happy because there's no good reason not to be.

Happy because five months with Rosemary
is pretty amazing.

Baby Quilt - Finally Finished!

This is the quilt that I started nine months ago…

This is the quilt I finished yesterday…

This is the quilt I made for Baby Love.

Good news:

She loves it!

Bad news:
Sweet potato spit-up stains pretty quilts.

 I am struggling to figure things out

and to find myself in this new role of "mother".

 How to live and sleep and work and blog

with a daughter to consider.

A cascade of circumstances 

has me feeling

overwhelmed

lonely

inadequate

hungry

and ever thankful

to have a husband

who keeps me fixed on God.

I am struggling.

But I am happy.

Is that possible?

Apparently so.

Some Things, on a Monday.

1. Tim is definitely, obviously, certainly Rosemary's favorite person. Her whole face lights up when he walks into the room. I think that, because I haven't left her sweet little side for more than a couple hours since she was born and we always, without fail, have a feeding rendezvous every three hours or less (except during the night)… I have kind of become just an everyday part of the scenery of her life. Good old, always-there MOM, that's me. So Tim is her favorite, and in truth I can't blame her, and we both await his arrival home each night with eager expectation.

2. Our tickets to Hawaii have been purchased. The thought of Hawaii kind of cancels out any negative thought that exists. Baby crying inconsolably because she can't figure out how to roll the other direction? Hawaii, Hawaii, Hawaii.

3. As if I wasn't already socially awkward enough with my crazy diet… I'm gluten free now too. It is with great reluctance that I have given up gluten. Rosemary has had a lot of congestion and a rash that won't disappear since she was born, and the doctor thinks it might be a gluten intolerance. That's kind of the conclusion he came to by default, since the most common food issues with babies come from either meat, dairy, sugar, eggs, or gluten, and gluten is the only one of those five things I eat. So you're wondering what gluten-free vegans eat. The answer? Vegetables, vegetables, nuts, some fruit, vegetables, and rice cakes. After one week of this, I'm starving. 

5. Our part-time worker decided to go back to school (the nerve!), so now Timmy is back to working six days a week. (Thank goodness we are closed on Sunday.) This has been a devastating blow to the morale of our home. But, my friends, there is hope on the horizon. Hawaii, Hawaii, Hawaii.

6. I showed my risk-loving husband and similarly cra-zy little sister this video, in an attempt to prove once and for all that bungee jumping is insane. Instead of the "ohmygosh, I'm never bungee jumping again!!!" response I was smugly expecting, they both excitedly stated, "See?! She lived! I told you it was safe." Ummm, guys… when a survival story includes the word "miraculous", SAFE cannot be an additional adjective used in its description.

7. I've fully embraced winter hibernation. Pajamas, fireplace, and baby snuggles are my only ammo against the winter blues that three snowstorms in one week brings. Oh, that and…  

Hawaii, Hawaii, Hawaii.

A Conversation: About Daydreams

Me: You know, you're better than I ever imagined in any of my daydreams.

Timmy: You're a daydream that I caught.

(Happy 31 Months of being Mr. & Mrs.!)

Oh, how we roll…

Yesterday morning I informed my daughter that it was high time she start rolling over. Seriously. She did it - ONCE - and then decided she was content being a stationary little log and never tried it ever again. 

So we settled on the living room floor for a little BBC (Baby Boot Camp). For half an hour I helped (forced) her to "practice" rolling from her tummy to her back. I told her of all the wonderful things rolling could accomplish. 

She went stiff as a board and squawked at me like a baby birdy until I finally gave up.

Two hours later she was chilling on her back, contentedly sucking her fingers and cooing. And I was all like, "Whatever, baby. It's your loss." 

I took my eyes off her for one teensy second, only to turn around and find her on her stomach looking at me as if to say,

"That's right, Mom.
This is how I roll."

I promptly flipped her back and watched her do it again,

and again

and again.

Baby girl went from a stationary log to a rolling-over pro in the space of three hours.

Her technique is hilarious (and definitely not how I was trying to teach her). She curls herself up in a little ball and then shoots her legs out like a ninja. She really is her father's daughter.

We have a tiny rolling ninja in the house. I'm pretty sure that once she figures out how to roll from tummy to back, our lives will never be the same.

A Coversation: About French

Me: I wish we could teach Rosemary a foreign language.
I know some French. Let's say something in French. 

Timmy: Ok!

Me: Bonjour je m'appelle Becki. Je suis magique.

Timmy: … TRIANGLE!

I learned some basic French before we went on our honeymoon to Paris. I basically knew how to say, "My name is Becki. This is my husband, Tim. We are newlyweds. It is so magical. If I eat dairy I die."

And I could only remember it if I said each phrase in that exact order,
so needless to say I didn't have very many meaningful French conversations.

And I think it is obvious from the above conversation that Timmy knows ZERO French.

So I guess Rosemary won't be bilingual, but…

she has a Daddy that will always make her laugh.

(so who needs French?)

Music By Caleb.

 My brother-in-law is such a talented musician.
As a Christmas present, I designed him some business cards

and a header for his music blog.
He wanted something "folksy" and "classic"

and here's what we came up with:

 (front)

(back)

Be sure to head over and listen to some of his work!

www.musicbycaleb.com

Chiropractors & Belly Laughs

 

We all barely survived last week. Rosemary had her first cold, followed by an ear infection. But we had no idea that was the reason she could never, ever, not-for-a-second, be put down in her crib. We had 48 hours of hysterical crying all night long before a friend of mine mentioned it might be her ears that were bothering her.

And then it was like, 

"Oh gosh, why didn't we think of that?!"

One trip to the chiropractor and she was a bazillion times better. We spent the rest of the week putting garlic oil in her ears and she has once again returned to her normal nightly schedule of blessed SLEEP for ten hours straight. Whew.

Which brings me to a couple points. Firstly, every baby should go to the chiropractor. We love ours. We started taking Rosemary about a month ago and he completely cured her car-crying problem. (She would crycrycry EVERY time we got into the car.) Turns out there is a lot of air pressure in cars and it's pretty common for baby's ears to hurt when driving. No more car cries for Rosemary (seriously!). He also saw that her range of motion was restricted and has solved that problem as well and now Rosemary can completely turn her head both directions. (We had thought she just preferred to look a certain way.) And while talking with our chiropractor he mentioned that chiropractors can help with many common baby issues, like colic, digestive issues, acid reflux… the list goes on. So, please take your baby to the chiropractor.

Second point. You don't need to use antibiotics to cure an ear infection. Garlic oil does the trick, and the less we use antibiotics, the better.

It's been so wonderful to have Rosemary back to her normal, happy self. This weekend she gave us her first belly laugh, thanks to her silly friend Elizabeth who Rose is clearly in love with. 

Baby belly laughs now top the list of best things ever.

 Timmy Text: There's a surprise for you upstairs on our bed.

…and when I ran upstairs, this is what I found:

*smile*

Four Months.

Four months finds us with

one baby with an ear infection
(who hasn't slept in 48 hours)

two sick parents

three very, very, very sleepy house inhabitants

and four months of happy memories
(to keep us sane in moments of pure despair.)