chess, cheeks, and cheer

Tummy time! V is still mostly immobile, but she's finally started making moves towards scooting and rolling. At this point, she pivots around her belly button and gets angrier and angrier as she goes. You can see her carotene glow these days, as she's a big fan of carrots, sweet potatoes, and squash.

Grammie's gotta lapful of love!

I don't really know what's going on here, but there was a moment, and I had my camera handy. I love these guys.

"Mom, can you put Vesper to play on the floor so I can read next to her?" (Yes, he reads Calvin & Hobbes. Trying to explain the ones he doesn't understand can be tricky, but his vocabulary is growing by leaps and bounds!)

Blake is teaching her well: she's already turning a regular household object into a gun...

... and turning it on him.

That enormous child on the left used to have a profile very like that wee baby on the right. He's grown lean and tall, with big awkward teeth that don't quite fit his mouth yet, feet that seem outsized, and cheeks that aren't chubby and round any longer. But, and I love this more than I can say, he still walks alongside me and gladly holds my hand.

A neighbor taught Blake to play chess, and Blake then taught Grammie. While it's painfully easy to beat him, it's darn near impossible to LOSE to him. He's got the rules down, but strategy is something else entirely!

Little miss contented: we keep her Pack-n-Play in the kitchen area, stocked with toys, so she can be nearby but not underfoot. Blake wanted to move everything right where she could reach it very easily, which meant it was all practically on top of her.

 She's talking more and more, and has finally said her first identifiable and deliberate word: Uh-oh!

Babbling of "dadadada" and "mamamama" continues, with Blake gunning hard for "babababa" to make it into her rotation.

Silly happy girl is very drooly, because another tooth is hoping to join her first.

We took a walk to feed the ducks. She studied them closely, but was quiet as a mouse until I started quacking at her, too, which she found hilarious.

an update, and before/after pics

My tiny friend, Allistaire, is still not doing well. She's on a clinical trial now, and my prayer is that this treatment would prove extremely effective against her cancer, paving the way and giving hope for future patients diagnosed with AML (acute myeloid leukemia). I'm in the process of signing up to be a marrow donor, because, as I told Jai, A's mother, I want to break off a piece of their burden and bear it myself, but I can't. All I do is pray and cry, and while prayer has power, it does not always feel that way. Bone marrow donation can, in a very real, tangible way, save lives and help others. I love tangibles.

*****

I'm in Billings, editing photos after catching up with my folks before B's vision therapy tomorrow. V is full-on crying in the room she's sharing with B, and I've already nursed her, so I'm not sure what comfort she's hoping for. Thought I'd share some of the photos that have accumulated over the past months.

Vesper's room, before I got my act together:

Vesper's room, after Christmas money and a solid dose of self-loathing for putting her in that mess finally whipped me into shape:

Changing table: free (a friend potty-trained her youngest)

Noah's Ark cross-stitch kit: $39.99 (I made it for Blake back in the day - think I finished around the time he turned two)

Other needlecrafts: $1.98 (Black Friday find at the CdA Goodwill)

Ladder: free (a boyfriend made it for me back in college)

Boxes & baskets: free (scrounged from around the house)

Curtains: $67.50/pair (Overstock for the win - they are nice, drapey, blackout panels)

Rocker: $700 (JC Penney, and it's tall enough to be comfy with my long legs)

Prints: $20/each (zulily, and they are delightful - I really should have gotten a close-up!)

Garland: freeish (I made it from fabric scraps - I think the binding tape was $2.50)

Crib, mobile: I can't remember - got both for little Blake

Bedding: $35 (eBay, and I wish I would have just made my own)

Pooh & Christopher Robin print: a gift from Aunt Ernie to Blake

Violet (the puppy in the corner): a gift from Aunt Lane & Uncle Bing to V

Apple-cheeked baby: priceless (though I can put a dollar amount on our medical care, which we're still paying off!)

a season of no

My friend told me a story. A young man she knows called his parents and thanked them for setting boundaries for him. Now that he was at college, he understood better and appreciated all the times they told him "No." When that same young man was stricken with cancer and died very shortly after his diagnosis, his mother simply recounted that God said "No" to their desperate prayers for a miracle to save him.

I'm sorry for the radio silence. When a friend's daughter turned three in the hospital because her leukemia relapsed (how horrifying is that? a relapse before the age of three, which means she's already HAD IT), I find it hard to say anything frivolous online. It just seems disrespectful and profane. A little girl I have rocked and comforted in the church nursery is slipping away, because God is saying no to repeated prayers for healing. For options. For chemo and radiation to work. For leukemia to go away and never come back. For protection from other illness when her immune system is down.

No.

No.

No.

I know that God is good and can be trusted, but these are the moments that batter my faith, hurt my soul, and leave me with yet another pair of ruined contacts because I cannot stop weeping and praying for my tiny friend and her family. And in the season of "No," I'm encouraged and challenged and wrestling with yet another friend's word from the Lord in the midst of her suffering: "Trust Me. If you knew the ending, you would choose this too."

We don't know the ending. It's been nearly a decade since I was abruptly left a pregnant widow, and I still don't know the ending. I can honestly say that I would never have chosen the path I am on, despite the delights and blessings I am surrounded by today. If given the option, I would have gone another way... but I still don't know the ending. And in the meantime, the "meantime" can be excruciating. Please pray for healing and strength and grace for the Anderson family. Learn more about Allistaire (pronounced al-iss-STAIR, not AL-iss-ster) here.

UPDATE:
All this is also colored by the fact that my last surviving grandparent, my mom's mom, died rather suddenly this last Wednesday. She was surrounded by her children, she leaves behind a legacy of children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren who love Jesus, and I'm grateful for the time I had with her. But now my mom doesn't have her mom, and death is hard no matter which way you look at it, and she would have been 77 in a few weeks and my card would have been late anyhow. I guess what I'm saying is that I'm tired of grief and I'm ready for Jesus now.

identify the movie from which the quote comes and win all the internets

I hate the word "bossy." People almost never call a man "bossy." Men are "leaders," "assertive," or "forceful." Bossy is used almost exclusively to describe women, and it's been used on me a LOT. I can be rather forcefully assertive as a leader, whether someone has asked me to be or not, but I have decided to use my mother's take on the scorned word: "I'm not bossy. I just have great ideas." Because she's been called bossy too.

By me.

*****
B: (at 4:45 am) Mom, I had a nightmare about zombies and now I'm scared to be in my room.
A: What?
B: Will you please bring blankets into your room so I can sleep on the floor next to your bed?
A: (slowly waking up) What?
B: (very close to my face) Can I sleep in here?
(this back and forth proceeds for long enough that I finally snapped, because irrational fears are impossible to reason with at FIVE IN THE MORNING)
A: LISTEN, instead of being afraid of PRETEND zombies that are in your head, you should be REALLY SCARED of the one real zombie in front of you, because THAT IS HOW I FEEL WHEN I DON'T GET ENOUGH SLEEP!
B: I don't like it when you pretend to be a zombie.
A: (muttered grimly as I closed his door) I'm not pretending.

*****
I am confident that I am an excellent dancer. I dance and dance like no one is watching, my heart full of joy and my body filled with grace.

Except...

My children ARE watching, and the looks on their faces indicate that they are not yet convinced of my excellence or grace (the joy is undeniable).

They can't get me down.

COME NADIA! LET US DANCE LIKE CHILDREN OF THE NIGHT! Expand! Contract! Expand! Contract!

"classy addie" >>> page not found

My friend Liz sent this to me recently. It's about eight years old, from when I was living in Billings. Clearly, I still have my firstborn in utero. I think she mostly wanted to show off her flat tummy, because two kids later (each), and neither of us looks the way we used to!

Blake, with his kindergarten buddy. He is ostensibly the more responsible of the two, having more years in school under his belt. I find this claim suspicious, but hey! I'll go with it!

We did mini-league basket ball again this year, and it's a funny combination of basketball and football, where the kids almost want to tuck the ball under their arm to run down the court. His skills are WAY better than last year, and it was fun to see the progression. Only six weeks long, it's perfect for me, but he was sad when it was over: "I wish we had basketball forever."

Grammie and Papaw came up for one of his games (we walked in and Mom immediately said, "Ugh, smell all those little sweaty bodies," to which Rob replied: "No, thank you."), and this is take one. Mom's apparently trying to tickle Rob so he'll smile for the camera. Dad's not sure about that, and Rob's not having any of it.

M: Don't you feel that? I'm trying to get you to smile!
R: All I feel is awkward.

I pretty much just sit back and laugh at the two of them together.

Vesper and Grammie, singing to one another. I think the odd acoustics had V engaged - she's usually pretty quiet.

Well, hello there, toothless!

classic addie

This morning, on my way to Bible study, road construction forced me to merge into the left lane. I put on my blinker and expected the car in my blind spot to slow and let me in. Instead, the driver accelerated so abruptly that it was clear to me she had no intention of such a courtesy. In fact, I was surprised to see that her plates weren't from California. The truck behind her graciously let me merge. I waved to him, then made eye contact with the woman who was now immediately in front of me, via her rear view mirror.

Very matter-of-fact, I calmly told her she was a bitch and flipped her off. To her credit, she did not respond in kind.

As we sat there, stopped at the light, I was hit with a wave of contrition. I had just sinned against someone in a fit of pique, and I would have no chance to make it right. I could confess to God and ask forgiveness, but as soon as the light changed, I would have no chance to do the same with this stranger. I thought about hopping out, tapping her window, and quickly apologizing, but decided against it. She might have thought I was insane or violent, and it could have made the problem worse. I sadly reflected on my terrible witness of God's love on the way to Bible study, for crying out loud, and why "casual" sins made in passing can be so harmful, with no chance for redemption with the offended.

We proceeded through the light, and I watched her turn into the parking lot where Bible Study Fellowship is held. My face turned bright red as we drove past one another in the parking lot. I was walking down the hall, telling my friend Jill the story, when I saw her: the driver in green. Approaching me.

I veered off and stopped right in front of her.

"I owe you an apology."

"I owe YOU an apology! I was totally not paying attention!"

"That's not really sinning against me, though, whereas I had a temper tantrum that was totally uncalled for. Can you please forgive me? I'm mortified."

"Of course. And I'm sorry that I didn't see you."

"When I saw you turn into the lot, I was really glad I would have the chance to apologize, but I was really embarrassed, because of COURSE I was headed to the same Bible study as a woman I had just flipped the bird."

Later, I finished telling Jill about my morning, concluding that God is both gracious to let me confess and seek forgiveness as well as a bit ornery to let me learn my lesson in such a pointed way, and she laughed and laughed. "Oh! I have to tell my husband. That is such a classic Addie story!"

And that is why I do not have an icthus (Christian fish) on my car. The end.

fancy found her voice

Bethany claims these are Vesper's vocal warm-ups. I just held the camera up until she ignored both it and me and started singing again, despite not having cleaned her up after dinner (there were blueberries involved, which she loves). She's gotten a lot more verbal lately, and will even cry briefly in protest when she's put down for a nap. Just like a normal child.

procrastinating

Because I have a pile of things looming that I don't want to deal with right now, I'm blogging instead. Tomorrow (maybe even later tonight!), I will bemoan my choices and wish vainly for more hours in my day and more sleep in my nights. What can I say? It's how I roll.

How Blake rolls. "This is a 2X3 Destroying Machine. This buggy is very powerful and can destroy a building with one missile and one bullet. Say that, Mom."

"Okay."

V and T. T's fiance lived with us for the last five weeks and just moved out today. While Blake is glad to get the armory back, Rob and I are a little sad we didn't have more game nights. Guess they'll have to host US in the new apartment! (Terra, that is a hint. I'm not sure how clear I have to be...)

Blake and Gunnar wanted to play video games, so I negotiated. Blake LOVES shoveling, and hurried outside to complete his chores. Gunnar looked at me like I was joking.

I was not. But Blake was pretty fast, so I think Gunnar only had to do the porch and steps.

Warning: if we have you over for dinner, we'll try VERY hard to rope you into playing Just Dance 4 with us. Pictures are usually verboten (as my friend Jared put it, "What happens at Addie's stays at Addie's"), but Blake, Joel, and Kale were too stinkin' cute to resist.

Speaking of stinkin' cute, this bugger hit seven months in January!

I'm already trying to figure out what to put her in for her 8-month photo.

She's about to sprout two teeth on the bottom, likes to scratch things (my desk and couch both have damage from nails that were a fraction of a millimeter in length), and seems to be happiest when diaper-free.

She's still remarkably uninterested in rolling over or being on her stomach, the lazy little bean. One of these days she's going to figure out she's mobile-ish, but until then, it's awfully convenient to find her right where I last left her.

eight's going to be great

I interviewed Blake this morning over cereal. Apologies for the sound quality: the heat was blowing and the humidifier was on high, plus Blake's not as close to the mic as I am. Still, he's a sweetheart.

we have a room we call the armory

Look at this beautiful raptor on my neighbor's house!

I don't know what it is. But I love it. I wish he would come say hi to me, because I would buy live mice just to feed him. We have a bunch of varied raptors around, because we're still in the middle of a field and the hunting's good. I need to get better at identifying them, but they need to get better at holding still longer first.

Reese needed a place to stash Mason for a few hours. I don't remember why. I told them to cuddle up and they could watch some America's Funniest Home Videos. I remember watching that when I was quite small, and you know what?

People hurting (but mostly embarrassing) themselves never ceases to be funny. Also comic gold?

Babies.

Like this one. Rob does not approve of this bib, even though I told him I had no intention of buying others. Blake needed a CRAP TON of bibs when he was small because if it wasn't copious drool, it was copious spit-up. The kid was always giving back...

Which means I have a few bibs that make Vesper look like she's already on the prowl.

Rob still does not approve.

We hosted the Perrines overnight just after Christmas! Audrey, on the left, is now one (not in this picture, but now, as of 1/25) year old! Gunner, in Lane's arms, will be one on 2/12. It is crazy how quickly time flies. Also, that urn of corks in the background? The dust on the rim is striped with tiny finger streaks because Audrey wanted to explore. After about the third time of rescuing the baby from the decor (or the decor from the baby), Lane said, "You know you have one of these too, right? You'll be moving this eventually?"

Hmm. Maybe. Or maybe MY baby will be so used to it she ignores it. I'm terrible at baby-proofing, mostly because I am very lazy (one might also make a case for me being a lush, because those corks represent a lot of consumed wine!). And I want my children to know that you don't play in the knife drawer no matter WHERE you are. But mostly I'm lazy.

I don't know what they were watching, but none of them look very pleased. Well, to be fair, Matt usually looks like that.

The Schuylers gave the Perrine boys marshmallow shooters for Christmas. I am STILL finding mini marshmallow nuggets in the most random places, because Blake got one too. When I find them, I throw them away. When Blake finds them, he works on loosening even more teeth by eating them.

So, I'm serious about having a room we call the armory. When we refer to it with guests, it's simply the guest room. When we instruct boys on how to clean up, we tell them to put all the weapons back in the armory. I'd say we're the most well-protected house on the block, but these boys play fast and loose with what's considered a target.

My clock, for example, with the suction cup Nerf darts.

Or... me.

JUST after I snapped this, Mason let fire with both barrels of the orange shotgun you see on the right.

I took two to the chest.

But I have to say, that is the risk I run with nephews that I've essentially armed to the teeth.