Flashback Friday! Also, Pre-School Orientation

I am participating in my first Flashback Friday today and I found it only appropriate to make it all about my little school boy.  I said recently that each age is better than the last, and I mostly mean that.  But my favorite memories of Braedon are right around the time in these pictures, between the age of 12 and 18 months. I think it is because he was still an only child at that age. It was just him and me. My little man-child...

Yesterday we had Braedon's pre-school orientation and I am proud to say I in no way made an ass of myself.  I am not good at being thrown into social situations with strangers.  It's not something I am okay with and it's something I'm always working on, but for now it is what it is.  

I was afraid of Braedon being labeled in school, even before his first day had begun.  I feared he would be 'the kid with the weird mom' for the remainder of his school days.  Luckily there was a mom there who fit that title much better than I.  Sure, I couldn't resist sticking my nose in the middle of his Scholastic Book order form and taking a long, intense whiff for old time's sake, (it smells just the same!) but at least I didn't keep interrupting the presentation requesting clarification on things like snacks, color days, and homemade Play Doh.  I was so thankful for that mom.  I wanted to hug her and tell her that I appreciate her idiosyncrasies because they outweigh my own.  But that would have just been weird.

I keep having to remind myself that Braedon starting school isn't about me, my issues, or my insecurities.  It is about Braedon.  My first born with the old soul.  He will be labeled as 'wise beyond his years' just as I was. Whatever that means...  

That boy has my heart.  No, he IS my heart.  

As his first day approaches I keep repeating the same important message to myself over and over again.  "He is who he is."  It is my job to LET him be that child.  That PERSON.  Already I feel the urge to control.  To encourage him to do the things I liked or to excel at the things I excelled at. It almost makes me understand that awful 'Toddlers and Tiaras' pageant mom mentality. ALMOST.  But I refuse to let my perfectionism and obsessiveness get in the way of the way he chooses to learn.  If he wants to stress over the shape of his letters and the layout of his pencil box, that is fine.  But it will be because that is how HE is, not because I allowed myself to not-so-subconsciously rub off on him.

His first assignment is to cut out an apple shape and put his picture on it.  My gut instinct was to photocopy the apple and have him do several practice sheets until I felt confident that his final product wouldn't resemble a green bean or a pineapple, but I am resisting.  His life is about him.  He is who he is.  And he is just the way I love him.

Sibling Love

Coral has had a total of three laughing fits so far.  The first time was when Eli was dancing, the second and third time was when Braedon was making her laugh.  I guess us old folks just aren't funny. Certainly not for lack of trying...

I have always felt that one of the biggest gifts I could give to my children is each other. Moments like this reinforce that belief.

Oh, and THAT HAIR!!!!!  I don't know what to do with it.  :p

Know Your Role

It's a weird thing standing up what you believe in.  I don't think I like it very much.  I also don't think I'm very good at it.  I guess we all have our calling, and making waves is NOT mine.

I'm just gunna go ahead and stick to my good ol' "actions speak louder than words" philosophy... which is ironic.  Since I blog.

Things Are About To Get Uncomfortable...

According to my Facebook profile, I am a Christian.  I am a Christian and I am angry, appalled, and ashamed.  But these are all just overlaying emotions to my deep, painful sadness.  A sadness so great it makes me want to cry out take me, Lord.  Take me away from this place and put me on the first flight to Canada.

I am plagued with the knowledge that Christians are turning their backs so defiantly away from the One they wish to know most.  Faith is replaced with fear, love is replaced with hate.  This alleged Ground Zero mosque fiasco is just a big-picture example of the ugly side of the Christian faith that runs rampant in American society.  I imagine Satan is hanging out in hell right now, sipping on a frothy margarita, patting his back with his pitchfork, laughing his ass off.

Is it not a Christian's deepest desire to truly know Christ?  To have a personal and devoted relationship with God?  Isn't it our duty and obligation to spread His Word through His love?  I just can't wrap my head around how such a relationship is even possible when two of the main ingredients are missing from the diet of so many 'believers'.

Is it fear of the wrath of the Muslims that leads to the shunning of a whole slew of people that God himself created?  As he created us?  Is our FAITH in God so meager that we feel that we must protect ourselves because God won't do it for us?  What a wall that builds between ourselves and our Lord.

Please explain to me why it is okay to HATE a whole slew of people created in the image of God. Christians are missing such a divine opportunity to share the love of Jesus.  We should be saying COME.  You are WELCOME in the heart of our city, as God welcomes us into His heart.  It is only through sharing our own love with others that they may begin to understand Jesus' love for them.  

THIS IS WHAT CHRISTIANITY MEANS.

And yet...

I am instead bombarded with Christian petitions against (fill in the blank) exacerbating the well-earned negative stereotype of the hate-breeding religion.  I have read a slew of articles pertaining to why the mosque should not be built, and all I can see is rationalization after excuse after truth-bending after bold faced lie.

I am not ashamed to be a Christian because that would mean being ashamed of my God.  I am just sad.  Very, very sad.

Please read these other non-Religious articles on this topic:

http://www.mom-101.com/2010/08/in-defense-of-park-place-community.html

http://daryllang.com/blog/4421

http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/08/20/real-americans-please-stand-up/

Is Nothing Sacred?

Remember how before you had kids all of your stuff was kept nice?  Yeah.  Me neither.

Wordless Wednesday

They see the same stylist.  Commonly known as The Sandman.
To see others' Wordless Wednesdays, visit  Wordless Wednesday Home.

Dropping Like Flies

Since my last blog post I have lost two followers.  I hate knowing my number of followers.  I don't blog for followers, yet that stupid little number eats at me.  Especially when I see it shrink.  It makes me want to stop blogging.  Clearly I don't have a thick enough skin for it.  

I can't help but to wonder why I got un-followed.  Am I boring?  Did I offend someone?  If so, I'd rather live my blog-life in an ignorance is bliss kind of way.  

I have taken away my "Followers" tab on the sidebar, but I can still see my "Followers" on my Blogger Dashboard.  Anyone know how to hide that as well?

Time is an Illusion

It's nap time. I place Coral gently in her crib, stomach down. No longer do I have to worry about her sleeping on her back. Should I have the audacity to lay her down that way anyway, she will expertly navigate her chubby little body into a quick flip to her tummy. Her eyes shoot around until they settle on her Glowworm. She anticipates so well now, just one of the many signs that she is no longer an infant. I push the button on Glowworm's shirt as Coral reaches out for its hand, hat, or tail. I watch her close her eyes even before Glowworm's short melody is complete. She doesn't stir at all as I tuck her curly locks behind her delicate little ears. She doesn't make a peep when I trip over a pile of stuffed animals left as an offering by her ever-devoted brothers. I am fairly certain she is already asleep by the time I make my way into my bedroom, heart aching as I stare at the co-sleeper she no longer needs.

With a deep breath and a sigh, I swallow the lump in my throat and begin to break down the co-sleeper. I need to Google the directions, as this is the first time in 4 years I have taken it down all the way. This time I know I won't need it again. I fold the bottom rails first, then search for the hidden buttons covered in padding on the sides. It snaps closed with ease and I marvel at how expertly it was constructed. This tall, sturdy bed that has been the sleeping place of all three of my babies is now reduced to a compact state no larger than a one year old.

Seven more months until Coral is one. Seven more months until I will no longer be the mother of a baby, ever again.

Coral is such an easy baby. Sometimes I wish she wasn't. I remember stages with the boys. I remember difficult transitions, sleepless nights, endless fussing and comforting and rocking and soothing. I remember how Braedon needed to be bounced to sleep, and how awkward I felt when he'd constantly reach down my shirt in public. I remember Eli's 'pterodactyl' screech. A sound so grating and agitating it sent me guiltily slinking out of the room. I remember how he went through a baby phase where he would violently arch his back as he cried, nearly throwing himself out of our arms on more than one occasion.

These difficult times help to create little hash marks on the timeline of their infancy. I am thankful for the hard times as they help distinguish one phase from another. With each trying phase I have a detailed mental picture of my tiny and not-so-tiny little babies etched in my mind forever.

Coral has expertly transitioned from sleeping in our arms to sleeping in our bed to sleeping in her crib. The transition was initiated by her and was so smooth and easy that I hardly remember them taking place. She is only 5 months old and I am already forgetting. I don't remember when she started rolling over or nibbling on her fingers or sleeping through the night because she has just kind of silently ninja'd herself through all of her milestones.

She is so social. She loves her brothers and prefers to watch them over any other goings-on that may also be in her presence. She lights up when we talk to her or jiggle her little legs or nibble on her neck. She is happy to be passed from lap to lap; But make no mistake. She is my most independent baby. If she can take care of herself, she will. She can find her own comfort and her own entertainment. After all 3 kids are tucked into bed, I often find myself reflecting on the day and realize that I miss sweet Coral so intensely that it leaves a hollow, empty butterfly feeling in my stomach. Because she rarely NEEDS me,it is too easy to let her drift through the day as I tend to the house, meals, laundry, the boys.

I am forever grateful for our nursing relationship. I have made a habit out of nursing her on my bed with the door closed. Because she enjoys the company of her brothers so much, she will only effectively nurse when they are not in eye or ear shot. After she eats we lay on the bed together and I force myself to take it all in. I try to create my own milestones. I study her face, locking in the shade of strawberry blonde her hair is currently at. I tie it in with her hair's length and the width of the blue ring around her iris and the outfit she is in and the weather outside. I am saving moments. Proactively creating memories. Photographs are great for capturing visuals, but only memories can immortalize emotions.

These times are so special to me, because I know it won't be long. It won't be long until those timeline hash marks I was talking about will create themselves in the form of tween romances, bff quarrels, wardrobe arguments, and... oh God. Her first period.

I have never been a big fan of the baby stage. I don't mourn the boys' babyhood and find each age they grow into more enjoyable than the last.

With Coral, it's not that I don't want her to grow up... it's just that I wish time would SLOW the EFF down. Srsly.

Monday's Mane

So I am thinking about making this a new feature. Coral's hair is just TOO CRAZY to keep to myself.

See?