You Are the Best Thing

Sunday will be 6 years of wedded bliss for Tommy & I…. I know that’s just a silly phrase-- wedded bliss-- but I feel like it’s pretty appropriate for us.

I’ve known Tommy for the better part of my life. I met him when I was about 10 at church, he met me, and we never really thought about each other again until I was 16. We became friends in late spring that year, and then we went both went to church camp together.... And I always say, “Don’t go to church camp to find a boyfriend/girlfriend,” but seeing as I snatched him up on that trip, I’m pretty sure my opinion is completely null and void.

 

I remember on our trip back on he told me that he didn’t want to kiss anyone again except his wife, and I remember sitting there silently thinking, “Well, then I’m going to be your wife because you ARE going to kiss me.” Persistent, much?

We dated for almost 4 years before we got married, the month after I turned 20 (that sounds so incredibly young and insane. Don’t go getting any thoughts, Abi Kate). And I am grateful for each and every one of those years. We had lots of time to form a deep friendship, to make tons of sweet memories, to form a clear understanding of how the other one operates, how communication works and doesn’t work in our relationship. We figured out each other’s quirks, so well in fact that Tommy often identifies what’s actually bothering me before I even really realize it myself… 

 It is fun to reminisce about particular dates and funny outings and landmark times for our relationship as it grew into something more than just friendship…. Like the first time he told me he loved me… He called me to suggest that we meet early for breakfast the next morning at Cracker Barrel. He sounded so distant and uneasy that I went 100% certain that he was going to break up with me. I had even started forming my responses on the drive over. And in due fashion, we got our times and places mixed up. So when he finally strolled in, I was sure that it was completely over. He acted weird the entire meal and I was so nervous I could hardly eat. Then, after we were done eating he dropped that horrible line that no one likes to hear, “I think we need to talk.” So we hopped in the car and drove to the parking lot next door where they were building a new hotel. It was quiet and there were no distractions. And I braced myself for the bad news, and started trying to hold back tears when he started talking about where our relationship was going. I assumed he was about to say, “Nowhere,” and here I’d been absolutely crazy for him the past few weeks, but instead he said, “Katie, I love you”. And then I really DID cry. Tears of happiness and excitement because Lord knows I was completely spent for that man months before.

I remember our wedding day, walking down the aisle at the church where "we" began and not being able to quite catch a glimpse of him for all the people in the crowd. I was so wound up it would’ve appeared I was nervous, but really I was just anticipating his seeing his face. That same excitement carried me all the way through our reception where we danced ourselves silly with a host of friends and family.

This October we will have been together for 10 years… an entire decade carved out for just us. I love our memories, big moments and small ones. I spent some time looking at pictures of us from years ago, before babies and weddings and engagements. I thought about these last 6 years, how we had no clue what was ahead of us when those pictures were taken. We didn’t know the joy of sharing in a life together. We didn’t know that excitement of anticipating new life, of working together as a team through labor, of falling so deeply in love with a creation that is both part of us. We didn’t know the journey of parenting together-- the moments where you feel like it’s an unending mountain and the moments where you feel like there’s so much joy your heart just pours over.  We didn't know that sadness that we would experience, learning that grief could unite us even more deeply than joy. And I am so grateful that each of these moments has been shared with him.

At our wedding, his brother referred to him as a “man among men”. And he is. There are many things I love about Tommy. I love that he knows how to be a friend, that he invests in our relationship with time and intention. I love that he takes full responsibility for us and our well being. I love that he isn’t afraid of hard work and of new situations. He isn’t easily intimidated or easily impressed, reading people and situations clearly. He is patient and tender, free flowing with outward expressions of love. He is deeply invested in Abi Kate’s life, the big events and the small day to day things like what toy she prefers to play with, and he loves her in the sweetest of ways.

He is the man who easily calms my biggest fears with just his words. The man who prays over our daughter every night with such heartfelt gratitude and petitions.  The one who committed himself to understanding the inner workings of labor and my needs so intimately that words weren’t necessary as we welcomed new life. The one who sends me messages nearly every day that he misses me and Abi Kate while he’s at work. He is the one who loves the little baby that does not share our home with such intensity, a child we will not meet on this side of heaven, that his sorrow at her loss was as tangible as mine. He is the one who knew exactly when to be strong for me and when to fall apart with me in the last four weeks. The one who has come home from working all day, for weeks, only to be welcomed by my tears and grief. And he was gentle enough to embrace that and encourage me to let grief and joy flow as they need. He is as quiet as I am loud, relaxed as I am wound up, intrinsic as I am extrinsic. And because of that, he creates a beautiful balance in our life and our love. 

But what I truly love most about him is his constant love for the Lord. To hear him pray is to know his heart, and his faithfulness and trust in Christ is his most beautiful trait. He leads our family to the cross, and I love him most for that.

Our life is far from perfect, and so is this man that I love so deeply. He is chronically messy, so laid back that time and schedules usually don’t apply to him. He takes procrastination to a great new level ;). We argue like any couple does, hitting bumps in the road and doing the hard work to make them smooth. But those things are hard to dwell on in light of his character.

On our wedding night, after the excitement and partying and fun… when we were finally alone, he grabbed a basin and he washed my feet. And while he washed, he read the passage from John 13 where Jesus washed the disciples feet, and he spoke of his new role as my husband… that just like Jesus humbled himself and served his disciples, this is what he had set for himself as a goal as my husband-- to be humble and serve me faithfully. And he has done just that. I’ve heard him say before that he “married up,” but the truth is, I married up. I married a man who is far more compassionate, more merciful, more selfless, and more sacrificial than I am on all of my best days combined.  I am inexplicably grateful to walk beside him in this life, to truly call him my best friend, and to share in the sweetest and hardest moments life has offered us together. I thought I loved him six years ago, but our relationship has found depths within these years that I never anticipated…

You, my love, you are the best thing. 

Where Troubles Melt Like Lemon Drops

We took a trip this week to the beach. 8 days of ocean and sun and rest. I was very anxious about going, with the current circumstances of life. But it was needed and so much better than I anticipated. It was good to be in a new environment, where every room in the house didn’t conjure up another memory of sadness. It was good to break routine, to need sunscreen everyday and have sand stuck all over my body. To nap and to read and relax. To simply have regular companionship and help throughout the day…

I’m always a last minute packer, and I always inevitably want my house completely clean for when I arrive back home. Not the best two things to be coupled together…. So the Friday before we left, I’m relatively certain I fell apart no less than 3 times crying over suitcases, laundry, and unmopped floors. But it all got done just like it always does.  

We loaded up bright and early Saturday morning, and I was braced for a loud and eventful car ride. Last year when we went to the beach, she woke up for all of 30 minutes. Knowing her the way I do, I knew there would not be a repeat performance of that this year….I love my baby girl more than I love life itself, but she does NOT love her car seat after about 30 minutes and she usually feels the need to let others know how much she isn’t enjoying herself. I had a bag of ‘goodies’ packed and prepared. It was really more like an arsenal for “Try this next!” But she surprised me, as she often does, and was mostly content for the entire 8-9 hour drive.

Magnetic letters & numbers on a cookie sheet= quiet driving :)

I felt the same quiet excitement that I always feel upon arriving at a vacation destination. Relief and anticipation. It was raining lightly and overcast, but as I walked out onto the balcony of our condo and looked out over the white sand and watched the waves rolling in, cresting white foam and filling the air with the scent of salt, I couldn’t help but be awed. I have seen this same ocean countless times throughout my life, but it doesn’t matter. It still screams the majestic artistry of the Creator. And the lulling of the waves brings a sense of peace to me, always. Even when it storms.

The first night we were there, I thought we were probably in for a week-long trial of poor sleep. Abi Kate, much like her momma, is a creature of habit. When she is ready to go to sleep, she needs her bed, her room, and her music. We brought the pack and play, which obviously can’t compete with a mattress. We brought her music….And I’m pretty sure this might make me sound like the crappiest mom ever, BUT… she totally slept in the bathroom connected to our bedroom the entire time we were there. Her pack and play filled up our room and honestly, she sleeps better in the dark without distractions (aka a closed door.) I was pretty sure I had reverted back to newborn days when she woke up every hour from 1 am-7 am our first night there.  I couldn’t blame her much. I never sleep that great when I’m away from home. She clearly did not prefer her bed or our bed, so I finally waved my white flag of surrender and got up at 7 with her. I know that’s a pretty typical wake time for most toddlers, but that’s an hour and a half earlier than she gets up at home… Coffee was my BFF as usual. I braced myself for naptime that next morning, but she decided to gift her momma with sleep. For every nap and every night after that. She still woke up about an hour early every day, but there were no middle of the night wakings or crying when it was time to go to sleep. So…. Sleeping in the bathroom for the win!

I was so excited to get her down to the beach that first day. She was only 4 months old when we went last year (holy cow), and I knew her experience would be so different this time. If you’ve ever gone to the beach solo as an adult and then later in your life packed up an infant or a toddler for the beach, then you know what a crazy long process this is. I remember last year thinking, “Good Lord it takes so blessed long to get her sunscreened, dressed, hat on, bag packed, get myself ready, nurse her…. “ by the time we’d get to the beach we’d be 30 minutes out from her next nap time. And while it still definitely took time to get it all together this year, prepping a toddler for the beach was way easier somehow. Maybe I was just better prepared… Anyway, we get down to the beach and it’s slightly overcast but still humid as the day is long. We sit down in the sand and she starts digging for all of 5 minutes. And a big ole truck starts driving by, blowing the whistle, telling us all to get off the beach for a tornado warning. WHAT?! Seriously. I thought my brain was going to explode. My immediate response was, “Can tornadoes even happen here?! How is this possible?!”  

Thankfully, it cleared up for the rest of the week. The sun was out in full force (I have the proof on my lily white burned skin), and the water was refreshing in the humidity.

 Playing at the Splash Pad by our pool

 Pruny feet-- the sign of a day well spent! 

 She took her first "ride" in the mechanical toys at the mall... NOT loving it.

 Out in the waves with Daddy

On our first night there, I texted two friends and asked for prayers for sleep. And minus the first night of Abi Kate’s all-night party, sleep came to me in ways that I’ve craved for 3 weeks. No hours of restlessness from racing thoughts, no dreams that replay the sadness over and over again. And with sleep comes clarity and renewal.  

Date night :)

One night, Tommy, Rachel, and I grabbed some chairs & drinks and went down to the ocean around 9:30. We were far enough away from the shore to stay dry, but close enough to feel the spray of water and sand as the wind blew. It was too dark to see far out and too dark for others to see my face. And the crashing waves drowned out our quiet, short conversation. At some point we all stopped talking and just sat there watching and listening. And the waves reminded me of a few things…

I have yet to be in the ocean since giving birth that I haven’t thought of labor. In Alpha, we teach about the mechanics of contractions-- how they follow a wave-like pattern strengthening as they go, peaking, and then slowly releasing. My midwife with Abi Kate referred to contractions as waves. She told me that when they came to “get on top of the wave and ride it down,” just like I would if I were surfing. But after laboring twice, I’ve found that what works best for me is to truly surrender to the power of the ‘wave,’ to let it crash over me and take me wherever it needs to. And while I sat in the sand thinking about this, I couldn’t help but find grief to be the same way. I have braced myself against the thoughts and memories, trying to “get on top” of them. But what’s been best is to just let grief be what it is…. Sometimes small waves that I can stand up through, sometimes ones so big that I’m not sure I’ll resurface. But letting myself grieve as often, as long, as light, and as hard as I’ve needed-- that’s what has been most helpful.  So I stopped fighting those memories and closed my eyes. And I went back to the moments before I was even certain that I was pregnant. That day while I juiced for us at lunch and the smell sent me running to the bathroom… I let myself think about later that day when I knew for sure I was pregnant, touching my stomach and saying, “Hi, baby. Mommy loves you.” I remembered as much as I could about each day all the way up to the present….and it helped.

It’s always bittersweet when a vacation comes to an end. I started my mornings like this at the beach….. 

I love Tennessee. I love its simple beauty, that we experience all 4 seasons here, that there are green hills and dark mountains in the east, that trees and rivers abound all across the state. But it’s pretty hard to compete with that view.

My sister said this week that it’s interesting how people try to “get away” from their lives by going on a vacation. But the truth is, problems and struggles follow you wherever you go. Destination doesn’t undo reality. And she’s right. Our present struggles found us 9 hours away in an environment completely different than the one at home. I wish the sand and sun did melt all sorrows--even they aren’t strong enough for that. But it brought a quiet reprieve, took the sting of the sadness, and allowed me to begin feeling a sense of normalcy again. Laughing out loud at jokes, enjoying good food and too much of it.

Tommy came to me one night while we were there and said that he did want to name our baby. We’d both been kind of torn on that, but I think getting away helped us make some decisions. So we spent some time on Father’s Day evening looking up names for her, searching out their meanings. We haven’t decided on anything yet, wanting to give her the name that is just right.

Home welcomed us back with comfort and with memories-- both happy and sad. But sitting on the couch last night, looking through the book of names, I recognized healing happening right here…. I think the Tennessee sun is hot enough to melt troubles, too.

One of my friends has been diligent to regularly send me scripture in the last few weeks. As I was reading through the chapter she’d messaged, I found myself crying, from bittersweet joy at this verse.

“…The Lord will guide you continually and satisfy your desire in scorched places and make your bones strong…” Isaiah 58:11

I can't find any beautiful words to describe how and what I felt. All I could think was, "Thank you, Jesus." 

Three's a Party, Four's a Crowd

Yep, looks like we are moving to “crowd” status! Tommy and I found out a few days before Easter that we are pregnant. We are so excited to experience this again together and add to the dynamics of our family. We kept it a secret from everyone for the first few days, just us two knowing. That’s always such a tender time to me, when we are the only ones who know. :) We told our families on Easter and sent out these cards to a few friends, asking them to keep it a secret, too. 

P.S. They don't make SugarMamas anymore. They stopped in the 80's. Disappointing, huh? So we improvised. And then a week or two later, I just had this candy sitting out on my dresser and it's been SO long since I've eaten it, so I tried the Sugar Babies.... and after picking two little pieces out of my teeth for an hour, I decided that they make much better pregnancy announcements than they do candy. :p 

We actually wanted to wait a bit later to announce it publicly, but much like with Abi Kate, I couldn’t hide it well anymore. At 8 weeks, I had a visible baby belly and my pants completely stopped buttoning/zipping. My babies like to make their presence known. Welcome back, belly band. :)

People always want to know if you were “trying” or not, which is always really funny to me because that’s basically dispelling the secrets of your sex life. But I will sacrifice myself on the altar of dignity for inquiring minds-- our answer is yes and no. We knew we wanted to really start trying for a baby in the coming months, we’ve always wanted our children to be about 2 years apart, and we assumed it would take a few months to get pregnant because it took a few purposeful months to bring us Abi Kate. We use Natural Family Planning, so I chart and all that entails. In March, we decided just to forgo the charting, ignore any and all signs of fertility, and only have sex when we wanted to, no “trying” involved. We knew we could possibly get pregnant but didn’t think we would. In fact, I thought we’d probably missed the “window of opportunity” so to speak anyway. Clearly, this is the way to get pregnant very quickly.

The day we found out, I was kinda unsure about whether or not we were pregnant. All along, I hadn’t given much thought to it because I assumed it was unlikely we would be pregnant. As that Wednesday drug on, I started having all the same signs of pregnancy that I did with Abi Kate right before I ‘d gotten a positive test. In fact, when I was doing my makeup that day, I looked at myself in the mirror and said, “Oh my gosh. I think you’re pregnant!” You talk to yourself like that too, right?! I spent an hour or two going back and forth about whether or not I should get a pregnancy test. Honestly, every woman knows the number one way to start your period is to go spend 20 bucks on a test. I really just didn’t want to waste the money (cheap, anyone?!) But my curiosity got the best of me after I passed a CVS twice that day, so I ran in and grabbed one. This is not my first time buying a pregnancy test, obviously. It has happened many times within almost 6 years of marriage, but I swear I feel the same way everytime when I get up to the counter. I always think, “Please don’t talk to me about this. Don’t ask me if we want a baby, are we trying, don’t we know what causes this, or anything else.” And especially, since I had Abi Kate on my hip, I was expecting some fabulous commentary from the aging woman at the counter. She didn’t say a thing, just smiled and said, “Good luck!” as I was walking out the door. I guess that could go both ways. Ha!

Being me, I could not wait to test, so I ran to the bathroom. And this is what I saw the second I put it down…

 I knew it was possible, but I was still so surprised! I cried (happy tears) and laughed all at the same time, and said “Yay!” with Abi Kate who shouted it back in unison. I also can’t keep anything from Tommy for any amount of time. So I texted him and asked who in our family had a December birthday. He said he couldn’t remember, to which I responded with a picture of the pregnancy test and said “How about baby #2”. Romantic, right?! A text. I just couldn’t wait. So we celebrated that night and talked about how surreal it felt.

So far, this pregnancy has been similar to Abi Kate’s in a few ways. With Abi, I was sick from about 5 and half weeks pregnant all the way through delivery. It was pretty much round the clock nausea that lightened up around 20 weeks, but I still spent a lot of time near a toilet or sucking down peppermints to stave off nausea. I’ve been sick with this little one, as well, though not as heavily. It comes in waves and passes more easily. A lot of people have asked me if I feel like that means it’s a boy. I don’t. Being the worrier I am, I’m actually grateful for the sickness because it makes me feel like things are progressing. So, we prayed that I just wouldn’t be as sick as I was with Abi. I was really concerned about how I would be able to care for her if I were constantly plastered to the couch or the looking for the nearest bush to vomit in, which is essentially what I did during the first part of her pregnancy. Abi Kate is also still nursing and I was concerned about meeting a caloric intake to sustain my milk supply and sustain a healthy pregnancy if I were constantly throwing up. I honestly just feel like God has answered our prayers. I also feel like preparation makes a difference. Entering into pregnancy with Abi, I just assumed I wouldn’t be sick. Please do not ask me why I was laboring under that delusion. With this baby, I assumed I would be disgusting sick and lose weight like I did with her. I was prepared for it and already knew what worked for me and what didn’t in terms of treating nausea, or rather surviving it. Having a 1 year old also helps because I literally just do not have time to think about how sick I’m feeling. Sometimes that makes it harder, but many times it has helped keep my mind off of the physical symptoms, and I really think that has helped me cope with it much better than I did previously. I have fewer food aversions this time which is good since I’ve been a bit ravenous (nursing and pregnancy combined will do that to you). It’s an interesting balance, feeling so hungry yet so nauseated by the thought of food at the same time… definitely an experience.

What’s exactly the same is the fatigue. It is so heavy and thick, just like it was with Abi Kate. It’s always shocking to me how encompassing that tired feeling can be. I literally dream these crazy, vivid, deep dreams every time I fall asleep be it for 20 minutes or 7 hours. And I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck upon waking each time. I have had to take a step back from a few things, let go of some personal expectations, and embrace resting. Abi Kate still takes two naps a day and I am so thankful for that because I typically take advantage of both of those nap times and sleep. It means I am less productive in the daytime, my house is less clean, I have less energy to go and do things, but it is necessary. A lot of people believe in pushing through the fatigue, but I believe in listening to what my body is telling me. If it’s telling me I need sleep, then I need to sleep. Plain and simple. There’s a lot of theories about “fighting the fatigue”, but as long as there’s nothing pathologically wrong with me, my body won’t lie to me. I try to take advantage of the times that Abi Kate is awake to go for a walk or do physical activities (I did pilates with her the other day. That was exciting. Between her and the dog I became a human jungle gym). Occassionally, physical activity helps with the tiredness, but only lightly.  I’m grateful to be home during this time so I can rest as I need to.

I have also noticed that the snarkiness is already emerging….Oh dear. In pregnancy, I tend to be far less patient with adults and I tend to have far more opinions that I feel the need to offer up far more freely. Lovely combo, I know. The girls I taught with while I was carrying Abi Kate referred to this as “Pregnant Katie.” Well she has returned in full glory, and maybe even more in need of a muzzle than before. So, if and when you hear my snarky comments, you’ll understand.

 We had an early ultrasound at my request to check on baby. At the imaging center we went to, they offer only abdominal ultrasounds. At 8 weeks, a baby is visible with an external ultrasound but it is very small. At first, the tech couldn’t find anything and I was beginning to freak out on the table. Tommy said it was all over my face. She stopped and said, “I think baby is just hanging out really low.” And sure enough, there was sweet baby with their little heart flickering away. I carried Abi Kate very low as well--guess some places are just more cozy than others. :) What was so neat about this ultrasound is that the big black space directly to the right of baby-- that is actually a mark from where Abi Kate’s sac was. 

I cried when she showed me. It was so sentimental to me that I still carry the marks of Abi within me. And even more so that this little one has implanted directly beside her. Maybe it’s a sign that they will be close. :) She turned up the volume on the ultrasound and we were able to hear baby’s heart beating. It’s such a precious sound. Baby’s little heart maintained a steady 150 bpm during the entire scan.

I would really like to say that I’ve grown tremendously since carrying Abi Kate and that I am unconcerned and confident. But that’s not true. I feel equally as vulnerable in this pregnancy as I did in my first, frequently worried that I will miscarry this precious life that I already love. I feel like the worry has been harder to combat this time, though Tommy swears it was just the same with Abi Kate (I’m glad he remembers!!). I really had such a fantastic pregnancy with Abi Kate. She was always healthy, and minus the regular throwing up, I was always healthy. I was low risk, had a beautiful unmedicated labor and birth. And I guess I find myself struggling to believe that this could happen to me more than once. I know more people who’ve had tragedy in their pregnancies than those who haven’t, and that’s never far from my mind. I have to regularly remind myself that the health and success of my first pregnancy wasn’t just a lucky occurrence. It was a result of answered prayer from a faithful God. So, I am desperately trying to cling to that truth and walk in faith. This time period is always difficult for me, but diligence in my prayer life and quoting scripture helps dispel the fear.

I’m excited about this time because I love being pregnant. I know a lot of people want to be tiny and small throughout their pregnancies. I don’t feel this way at all-- just the opposite. I love the growing and those first subtle movements. It is such a sacred time and has proven so far to be a rich time of spiritual growth for me again. We are so grateful for this sweet life that will be joining us in December. If this baby is anything like their sister, they’ll arrive “on time”. Which means I’ll get to rock the “2 under 2” banner for about a month before Abi Kate’s second birthday. I think that means fun and busy times are ahead! It’s still bizarre to me to think of Abi Kate as being a big sister. I assume that will change the further along I get.

Our first appointment with our midwife is in 2 weeks. I can’t wait to hear that sweet little heart again. It brings such reassurance and excitement. And in the meantime, we are celebrating and thankful and puking and sleeping and all things first trimester-ish. This is the sweet stuff of life. 

Strawberry Fields Forever

This past week we took Abi Kate strawberry pickin’ (it seems more Southern without the ‘g,’ right?). Tommy’s schedule differs from about 95% of the people we know. He works Saturdays and usually takes off one day during the week. It’s a bummer sometimes because when everyone is posting their fun Saturday plans, our day is relatively normal-- just her and I. But, the benefit is that we get to do things during the week together when everything is less crowded….

As Abi Kate has gotten older we often try to spend our family day together doing something purposeful, going somewhere together. I’m really big on giving her experiences, no matter how big or small they are. Anything out of the ordinary becomes a great learning opportunity and gives her a chance to create fun. We also just like doing things together as a family, so win win. J

I’ve written about our pursuit of cleaner living right here. It is still an ever-evolving process, and we go up and down with it. But, one of my favorite things about Spring and approaching Summer is that it makes it much easier to find quality produce locally. Instead of paying exorbitant amounts for organic produce at the grocery store, we can find it much cheaper at a variety of Farmer’s Markets and pick-your-own farms. So, we went on the Tennessee Pick-Your- Own website, found a nearby strawberry farm, and trekked the 45 minutes out there this week. While they’re not certified organic, they don’t spray, and that’s good enough for me! I also tend to be a bit more lenient with local farming practices simply because the food is typically so much richer in nutrient content. It wasn’t picked two weeks ago in California, packaged through a facility, and flown out to my local chain grocery store where I buy it after it’s been on the shelf for two days….  Freshly picked=more live enzymes, nutrients, and minerals. So for me, I come up pretty even on buying certified organic that’s two weeks old with freshly grown produce that isn’t certified… I’m also big on supporting local farming so that quality food can stay in MY community instead of supporting a farm in California that I don’t live even remotely close to… you get the picture. They’re also such a great price it’s easy to get a ton and freeze them for later when they aren’t readily available or in season.

We almost opted not to go because it’s started sprinkling rain as we loaded up, and a chilly wind was kicking in. We went anyway, and I’m so glad.

It was a little bit like heaven walking through those strawberry fields. For one, we are strawberry eaters. They’re delicious and are one of Abi Kate’s favorite foods. And these not only look beautiful, they are hands down the best strawberries I have ever eaten. Juicy and soft, sweet not tart…

We put Abi Kate down to let her have a go at picking them, too. Her favorites? The white ones. You know, the unripe ones. Every time I’d turn around she’d be sneaking a bite of one…. After showing her a few times, she started choosing the red ones. Usually. I loved watching her chubby little hand grasp that red berry and yank hard to get it off the vine. Precious. Sometimes, she put it in the bucket. More often than not, it went directly into her mouth. Seriously, they were so good, who could blame her?! When I tried to show her that we put them in the bucket, it was met with a hand up and a, “No.” ;0

So, we made a dropping game out of it and she decided the bucket might be ok….

 Still sneaking the strawberries at every chance ;)

It started raining while we were picking, so Tommy said he’d run to the car and grab his big umbrella. I thought he meant a golf umbrella. Incorrect. He meant a Tommy Bahama beach umbrella. And it popped backwards in the wind, which was also hilarious. I know that farmer was looking at us like we were crazy, going up and down the rows with a white-strawberry stealing baby under a huge porch umbrella. I’d laugh at us, too. J

We were damp and cold by the time we finished filling up two gallons worth of strawberries, but the experience was so fun. Watching her enjoy the activity we chose was so fun.

 Learning about strawberries :)

 This little girl adores her Daddy

So we headed home, eating strawberries from the bags… You know how you keep saying, “Just one more. This is the last one. Promise.” That happened on that 45 minute drive. Like over and over again. Oops….

Every summer we try to make a big batch strawberry jam and freeze it. It’s so much healthier than store bought brands, lasts for several months, and it also just tastes really good….

 STILL snatching strawberries at every chance she can ;)

Once the honey and sucanat went into the berry mix, this girl was a bowl licking fool! She threw a great big fit when we pulled her away….bless her, it’s hard giving up a snack you really want!

So we got out her little table to give her a cooking station of her own, threw some whole wheat flour in a bowl and gave her a spatula. Not too much “cooking” went on there. It was mostly her eating the flour. 

I think it's obvious how she feels about the flour... look at that face :/

I love these days spent with my best friend and the little girl we share. 

Spring, Easter, and Everything Else

I’m loving this weather. Loving it. Like I just want to gather it all up into a big ball and give it a hug. I love living in the South, particularly in Tennessee. There’s a host of reasons why, but one of the big ones is that we get to experience every season. And yes, I know our weather has been a bit stranger this year-- an almost snowless winter and a warm Spring-- but we still get to watch the seasons shift and fade from one into another. And that is good for my soul. At the risk of sounding like I’m a BFF with Mother Nature, I really do love when a new season begins. I love that it’s new, a fresh start. I feel that way at the beginning of every season.

Because the weather has been so lovely, it’s afforded us the chance to do some outdoorsy things with Abi Kate. And she has proven thus far that she is not her mother’s child. She loves being outside. I often open up the back door in our kitchen in the morning while she eats breakfast, and as soon as the child is done eating she runs to the door and shouts, “Down! Down!” (Safety Sally won’t go down the steps by herself yet). She just wants to be outside all the time. So much so, that my closing the door this morning so we could get dressed ended in an official toddler tantrum. I like being outside. I really do. I just like it better from the porch, in a rocking chair, with a drink, hiding from the bugs. Since she seems to be a big fan of this new season, too, it made this next part an easy choice…

Easter is just a few days away. This significance of Resurrection Day is huge in our home-- it’s the source of our salvation. But I always feel like Easter gets left out in our culture. Stores spend forever on Christmas. Christmas Eve, Day, Week, Month-- it’s ALL a big deal. But Easter seems to be looked over. An egg hunt, a new dress, church, Easter dinner, and it’s done. Forgotten until the next year. The truth is, without Easter, sweet little baby Jesus’ birth would’ve meant something different on Christmas Day. The purpose of His birth was ultimately His death our forgiveness. I know there’s a big push amongst most believers I know to make sure that their children understand the true meaning of Christmas, the importance beyond the materialism, why we give the gifts that we do. And I think because the celebration of Christmas lasts for essentially a month (or earlier if you’re Walmart), there are so many opportunities to bring things back around to Christ’s birth. It’s easier. With Easter, there’s no big preparation. I realize that’s part of the purpose of Lent- but even with that, it often seems to be only a personal and quiet sacrifice, which is great. But there are no company parties, no dinner celebrations/gift exchanges with friends leading up to it, no outward preparations made in the culture. Because of that, we wanted to make sure that Easter morning is understood by Abi Kate for what it is, so we opted to do a Spring Basket instead of an Easter basket from the Bunny. When she wakes up on Easter morning and we get ready for church, it will be a big deal-- the cross will be a big deal. And P.S. I totally think you can do Easter baskets and make Jesus a big deal in your home. We just wanted to be sure that WE didn’t skip over the real meaning in our home. We aren’t anti-Easter bunny, or anti-Santa people. We like Santa and the Bunny. In fact, my mom always does Easter baskets, so the Bunny will just go to her house and Abi Kate will have a basket whenever we see them. We just want that morning as we prepare for worship, the days leading up to it, to be all about Jesus and nothing else. And since I love new seasons, it was easy to pick a Spring Basket. She gets to open her basket on the first day of Spring, which was March 20 this year. (We were late by a few days. Oops! Good thing she has no sense of time.)

Target $1 bins were good to us this year and I got a host of her things from there. Bubbles (hence her new word which she pronounces “bo-buhls!”) Sand and water toys for the new sand and water tables gifted to us from some sweet friends. A Praisebaby DVD for rainy days (this has been a source of much hilarity as we watch her dance). A new diaper-- seriously, there’s always a reason for a new diaper. Besides, it’s getting hot outside and she’ll be running around in just them soon. Like I how justified that one?! Books for her car book basket (she looks at books while I drive so I keep a basket of her books in my car). 

 Going after the snacks first... Smart girl

 And immediately taking them to Daddy to open

 Her current favorite pasttime-- reading. She's my child for sure!

So far, I think her favorite thing has been the bubbles. She figured out really quickly they were a necklace, so she wears them around the house all day and quacks when she finds them since they’re in the shape of a duck. Best $1 purchase ever.

 Bubbles with Aunt Ra

Safety Sally strikes again... Despite the fact that the patio is flush with the ground, knees are needed to get down ;) 

Love this sweet giggly girl.

Easter always elicits sweet memories for me. Every year we dyed eggs, made Jell-o jiggler eggs and rabbits, hunted for the golden egg. You know what else I remember a lot about Easter? The clothing.

 My mom made our dresses very often. Sadly, I did not inherit her domestic goodness in the sewing department. We almost always wore white hats and white gloves and usually a corsage. Thank you, Southern living. I’ve always been a girly girl, so I loved it. I remember spinning in the dresses to make sure skirt twirled when I spun, obviously the most important part of any dress. And I remember my sister going, “Mom, this is so scratchy. I don’t like it. Mom, do I have to wear these gloves? This flower is poking me.” Despite our close friendship, Rachel is about 180 degrees the opposite of me. She did not heart the dresses, the white hats, ribbons, or flowers. She did, however, make out with fabulous Easter gifts, which I very obviously NEEDED. 

The significance of Easter was never lost in our home, and I’m grateful for that. I really love all holidays, and I love the old memories and new ones that we’re making.

I especially love that my sister got the dress with the collar, extra lace, high neck, and puffed sleeves. She loved it, too. Just look at her face. And have no fear, there WERE gloves with these dresses.

I thought of our “Easter best” because when I was shopping for Abi Kate’s Spring basket, guess what was in their $1 bin?! White Easter hats. I almost bought one, just for good measure…..

And just to throw in one more flash back--

 What a difference a year makes! (We deemed this the Easter dog as he kinda didn’t look so much like a rabbit in the picture.)

I hope your Easter is filled with sweet memories, white gloves or not, and that the message of the cross and the life it gives echoes throughout your home. Happy Easter, friends!