The Way Life Looks

I’m a stay-at-home-mom. I know that title elicits all sorts of responses from all sorts of people. Some people think it’s great. And I guess some people feel sorry for me. You can tell in the way they say, “Oh” when they ask what I do. But I don’t feel sorry for me. I feel blessed. Grateful. Filled up from all the moments spent with a baby girl in my lap, no makeup on. Reading a book, or nursing, or just sitting and watching her play with her nesting cups.

When new people ask what I do, I tell them I stay home with Abi Kate. And sometimes, I feel the need to throw in that I was once a teacher. That I went to college. That I have a Bachelors. That I graduated Magna Cum Laude. That I was a Kindergarten teacher who loved her little friends every day (or almost every day!). That there’s depth to me as there is to them. (Actually, I don’t really throw in all those details. Just that I used to teach Kindergarten.)

A lot of times, I stop after saying I stay home. There’s no other title I’d rather have than “Momma”. It’s ok if people feel sorry for me. Like I lost my career or that I’m now shackled to a little person at home. Or that my life isn’t as “free” as it used to be. It’s ok, because I know things about my life that they do not.

I know women who work and have kids. They make this flawless seam from work to home, and they make it look beautifully easy. They’re successful in their careers and successful mommas, and they know it was the right choice for their family. I want to tie a Superwoman cape around them because they’ve earned it. But I know myself well, knew that I wouldn’t be able to move smoothly from one thing to the next without drowning in my own sense of overwhelming commitments. And truth be told, if I was able to be home, I wanted to be. So I left the classroom, and while I miss the girls I taught with every day, and I occasionally miss the fun activities and teaching moments, on the whole I thoroughly enjoy my days with my girl.

I get kind of tickled when I hear what people think stay-at-home moms do all day. I mean there’s all sorts of articles and opinions and ideas floating around about being at home. Sometimes, I read these things and I get that, “Wow, Katie… You kinda suck” feeling. Of course, I know people write about what they’re good at, about the things they got together in their lives, not usually about the chaos or crappy parts. So, in an effort to be transparent, here’s the reality in our house….

Abi Kate wakes up around 8:30. So do I. It’s nice. As a self-diagnosed crappy sleeper, I like sleeping even though I’m not very good at it. If you texted me at 7:30 and I didn’t respond til 8:15, I was probably just asleep. J Some days, I wake up before she does and get a few things done. Some days I don’t.

She eats breakfast and I stay in my jammies and clean the kitchen usually or do a load of laundry. And I feed Layla who is most definitely barking non-stop by this time, because you know, it’s been a whole hour since her last meal or something.  When Abi is done eating, that’s normally when I eat and drink a cup of coffee while she plays. Or sometimes, she brings books to me one after the other while I sneak in bites of food in between stories.

And during her naptimes, I usually clean or take a shower or get sucked into my laptop or read or get her lunch ready. Very few days are the same. Even though I “stay home”, we usually don’t stay home every day. I run errands with her and see her reflection in the mirror as she flips through books in the backseat, claps her hands to the music, talks to me, giggles at herself, or just stares out the window. And it’s funny, but those simple little moments are the ones where I know, overwhelmingly in my heart, that this is right where I belong. Wherever she is-- that’s where I need to be.

She plays with my friend’s kids usually once a week, sometimes twice a week. She loves them all, and I love watching her. Sometimes we go for a walk on the greenway, and now that it’s so pretty sometimes she just runs around outside in the backyard while I scamper around to make sure all the dog poop has been picked up. (Told you it was transparent). She gets visits from my family frequently. Every Friday, we go to Books and Babies. She loves it. She’s inquisitive and social, loves the puppets and loves to be held by the teacher. I love the moments with her. Something that she and I go and do together every week. It’s nothing big and important and it’s over in about 45 minutes, it’s just that it’s mine- something I share with just her regularly.

Some days I do purposeful learning activities with her, and some days we don’t. Sometimes I stay in my jammies until noon. And some days, I feel like I should award myself with the Superwoman cape because I did all the “right” things that day. My house looks gorgeous, my dinner is totally plant based and delicious, my baby learned another word that I taught her, I have makeup on and my hair looks good. But in honesty, I don’t have those Superwoman days all the time. And I’m learning to be ok with that.

There’s 175,000 things that can be done around my house always. There’s always some activity to get to, friends or family to visit. And I’ve read all about the need, as mothers, to be productive and get things accomplished. Some days I get a lot accomplished and some days I don’t. And I’m learning to be ok with that, too. Because great as the lives of some women sound through the computer screen, as scheduled and perfect as their days are-- that isn’t my life. And that isn’t what defines successful mothering. I’m learning to let things go, because enjoying my days with her is far more important than whether I woke up before she did that day or not. I am not going to be a slave to my schedule.

This week she learned the word “bubble”, and she shouts it every time I blow bubbles. She started saying “cack! cack!” everytime she sees a duck. She knows which of her books have a picture of a dog in them, and she brings the same one to me and turns the pages saying, “Hey Nora! Hey Nora!” until she finds the page with the dog. (She doesn’t call for Layla anymore….If you know both of our dogs, you’ll understand this). And then she waves and waves and barks at the dog in the picture until I think that surely she’s tired of that book, only to find that she has a renewed interest in it 5 minutes later. She started running--running in the sense that she’s going as fast as her chubby little legs can carry her-- into the living room when she’s upset about something. She started making the kissing sound when she kisses me. And she has a renewed love for dancing (and bless the child, she is SUCH a white girl. She leads with her head.) I have read Snuggle Puppy so many times that I no longer need the book. I can recite the entire thing for you right now. And guess what? I love it.  I haven’t felt less productive or less valuable to society. I haven’t felt sad that I’m not as pretty as I once was with fresh makeup and organized hair (well maybe a little sad. But not a lot!). And it’s ok that I still have three loads of laundry that are unwashed. Being home with her is enough. The memories and moments with her are enough. And while I’ve never felt sorry for myself for being at home because it is what I chose, I’ve just extra-enjoyed it this week.  

And maybe here soon, I won’t feel the need to explain what I used to do when people ask. Maybe I’ll just say, “I play with my baby all day.” Because this was the right choice, without a doubt, for our family. And I am more certain of that, more certain of these moments, more certain of this job than I have ever been in any other. 

In With the New...

I feel like I've been vying between sadness and frustration within the last week, mostly at myself. I’m not completely sure why. Nothing big has happened. No great changes have come my way. Maybe it’s just several small things that I’ve spent far too much time dwelling on. Mostly, I’ve just felt a bit discouraged. And I suppose that’s to be expected. Relationships are sticky and messy. They’re rarely linear or stagnant in fashion, and I’ve never been one to enjoy change-- change in circumstance or change in relationships. (P.S. Have no fear- this has nothing to do with my hubs. He’s got my heart all wrapped up in too many ways to explain). There’s been no dissolution of friendships or acquaintances. Truly nothing notable. It’s mostly been me overanalyzing things in my mind. I’m an interpreter by nature, often overly sensitive, and I’ll spend too much time considering what could be. And it hasn’t just been people, it’s been considering futuristic things-- investments of time and money and long term commitments. And honestly, I think on the whole these things have just held me captive emotionally. Go ahead and add “easily overwhelmed” to the growing list of traits that aren’t so fantastic about me. And I’ve officially become an old woman who can’t seem to adapt to time change either. It’s taken me days to get my sleeping patterns back to normal after Daylight Savings. Lack of sleep coupled with emotionalism is never a great combo for me.

So, I guess I’ve just been consumed. Distracted. With myself. My thoughts. My concerns. Yet another fantastic trait…… But in the beginning of the week, the weather started changing. Sunshine and cool breezes. New blooms on plants and green grass gaining vitality. All of it just quietly ushering in Spring. Abi Kate and I spent the days outdoors and it was so good for my soul. Good for my heart. I could feel the stirrings of growth. And as I watched all of the things in my own yard changing, I stopped dwelling on myself and things I haven’t been able to figure out. My focus was shifted to the goodness of God. His Creation. Growing right in front of me. And I don’t just mean the flower bushes that are miraculously budding in spite of my very black thumb.

She was so sweet to watch in a new experience-- playing outside without shoes, exploring the grass, toddling around.

She giggled and was surprised at the things she touched and felt. She is often pensive in new situations as she tries to figure things out. She’s still surprised at her new mobility and gains so much joy from walking quickly towards something she longs after. And this time, that something was me.

I prayed while we played. Chose to be present in these sweet moments instead of being caught up with myself.

Sister can kill some oranges.... it's like she's afraid scurvy is lurking right around the corner.


And when we went inside, I spent some time reading and in prayer. Abi spent some time cooling off...

I don’t normally stick with one devotional. I use a mishmash of things. Funny the book I that I grabbed expounded on John 16, about not becoming overwhelmed by life’s circumstances. Appropriate, no? I can’t dictate the changes in relationships with others, can’t alter their view of me, can’t control the response of other people. (And truthfully, if I’d get my eyes off myself and stop being concerned about what I can do in and of myself, the struggle would probably end.) I cannot see into the future and know that certain decisions are better than another choice. That’s hard for me. But I can have faith, and gain joy in my current circumstances. I don’t have to be overwhelmed by new experiences or changes in current conditions-- if my sweet baby girl isn’t, why should I be? She didn’t sit down on the concrete and refuse to go anywhere because it was new and she preferred to stay where she was comfortable. She stood her little self up and went exploring. Some things she liked and some things she didn't. But it didn't stop her from going out into winter's leftover grass, prickly and rough, and seeking out Spring's clover over and over again. Once again, I guess I ought to take a lesson from the little girl who only stands about 2 feet tall and weighs all of 21 pounds, who giggles when she’s chased and embraces newness as something to learn about not something to mourn. She teaches me much. And my heart just spills over from being so filled up with her. The longer she’s with us, the more I’m convinced she was sent so that Christ might disciple me. So today I’m thankful for present moments, quiet learning, and changing seasons both outdoors and within my life, even when the latter shakes me. And I’m thankful for the angel baby that makes me laugh and cry, think and grow all at the same time.

Parenting a 1 Year Old (a.k.a A Great Need For Coffee)

I know it appears that I have become lazy and slacking in this blog, but I promise I haven’t, at least not completely.  My laptop suddenly died and it was in the “shop” for a week (while I had all sorts of withdraws.) Even though it’s only been 2 or 3 weeks since my last post, it seems big stuff is happening around here anyway…

Um, friends---one of you or some of you neglected to tell me that a one year old is very different than an infant. A lot different.  In a lot of different ways. Raise your hand if that was you!!  ;) Abi Kate is 13 months old now and started walking about two weeks ago, right at the end of month 12 (which I predicted. See, do I know my girl or what?!) . She transitioned from only taking a few steps at a time to wanting to walk more often than crawl much more quickly than I expected. I think it’s probably because she is a later walker. Anyway, she thinks she’s big stuff when she makes it all the way across the room. She’ll throw herself into the couch after making it and start laughing. The other day I was in the kitchen and she came toddling out of her bedroom. I’m so used to seeing her crawl that it looked bizarre. She’s also started standing herself up alone, not pulling up to stand to walk. It's so fun watching her newly found mobility.

I didn’t think it was possible, but she is busier than she was before, even too busy to sit down and eat sometimes. She’ll immediately start saying, “Down! Down!” as soon as she gets in the high chair. Fun times. Her personality keeps evolving and I love the little person she’s becoming. She’s quite strong willed (we all know she got that from Tommy. If we could just make him a little more laid back…. Ha!) and pretty opinionated on what she wants to do and frequently on what she does not want to do. We are learning the ropes of discipline with her, what works for her and what doesn’t. She’s our little social bug, which we both love about her. She walked across the chiropractor’s office the other day to an older woman, arms outstretched, and climbed right into her lap. Stranger danger, anyone?! 

I really didn’t anticipate there being such a big difference between a 12 month old and an 11 month old, but in Abi Kate’s case, there has been. I’ve heard my mom say countless times that about the time you get them figured out, they change what they’re doing again. Or as my friend Rachel says, “Once you figure out what makes them tick, they start to tock.” So true. It’s been that way all through her little life so far,but I’m loving the journey just the same. She is entering into such a FUN age. She wants to play with us, she adores all music and dances and claps and shouts “Taomp!” (stomp) and pats her little foot on the floor.  

As she has gotten more independent and become more of her own little person, I’ve seen some other traits emerge. Some of them being a bit less than lovely. She has a pretty quick temper and is easily (and loudly) angered when she’s removed from somewhere or something. She started by throwing herself back and shouting, “No! No! No!” and kicking her feet. Oh dear. And then she’d get so frustrated she started to bang her head into the carpet and look at me for a reaction. This first time she did this, I pretty sure I said, “For real?!” (Sorry sister, not acceptable.) Some of that of course results from lack of communication skills and an inability to reason. It’s age appropriate. But some of it is just her personality. A few days after her first birthday, she had a day where these throw downs happened quite often throughout the day. I remember sitting in her room while she played that afternoon and just crying-- not because I didn’t know how to handle her or was exhausted, but because I SO identified with how she was feeling. I literally remember feeling angered beyond words as a 4 year old (my poor mom). And I was so upset because I know she got those traits from me. I was almost even embarrassed, just sitting in my little house alone.  I’ve always been easily and quickly riled up. Shocking, I know…..;) I never actually minded that about myself until I got older; and now that I have a daughter, I most definitely mind that about myself. It’s been something I’ve always struggled with. I think maybe I’ve gotten better with age, but not a whole lot. It was one of those things I wanted to get rid of so my children didn’t see me exhibiting such behavior and mimic me (I promise I don’t stomp my feet and shout no when I’m mad. Funny image though, right!?). Anyway, when Tommy got home I cried to him too, (bless him for listening to my 9000 meltdowns) and told him I didn’t understand why she was this way. She was so young, honestly too young (in my opinion) to be exhibiting learned behavior in response to an abstract situation. So I told him maybe she’d heard me when I was pregnant with her, when I was less cautious. She’d felt my emotions and quick frustrations and adapted them. I know I was kinda reaching there. Maybe not my most rational moment. Either way, I felt terrible because I felt like I’d passed on these ugly characteristics to her, and I felt discouraged because I felt like my best efforts weren’t producing desired results.

And then I ran across this and it basically slapped me in the face.

"How can we tell whether our efforts at parenting are motivated by reliance on God's grace or on self-trust? How can we know whether we're trying to obligate God or serve Him with gratitude? One way to judge is to consider your reaction when your children fail. If you are angry, frustrated, or despairing because you work so hard and they aren't responding, then you're working (at least in part) for the wrong reasons. Conversely, if you're proud when your children obey and you get those desired kudos - Oh! Your kids are so good! - you should suspect your motives. Both pride and despair grow in the self-reliant heart."  Elyse Fitzpatrick

I was so convicted of the despairing section, of depending solely upon myself. Abi Kate isn’t really old enough for us to have moments yet where we revel in her public behavior as opposed to other children’s. Babies are babies. But I will remember that part as well in the coming year because I will SURELY be needing it.

This is what I’ve come to realize about myself-- having a degree in “kids” has been both beneficial and harmful for me in regards to parenting. My degree is birth-3^rd grade. I love little friends. I am comfortable with understanding milestones, gauging age appropriate behavior/expectations, and helping her reach or discover her next level of understanding. Having been around lots of newborns and babies throughout my kid/teenage years made a lot of “first time mom” things much, much easier.  I can’t tell you how many diapers I’d changed before having Abi Kate but it was a lot. I’d rocked fussy babies and know that sometimes they just cry and nothing works. Patience comes easily to me in dealing with little children because I know they’re just learning and childish behavior is to be expected. And even being a Nursing School drop-out helped in lots of areas as well, particularly in health, nutrition, breastfeeding, etc. But here’s what I’ve learned-- it is TOTALLY different when you have your own child. It doesn’t matter how much you know about child development, concern still crosses your mind in regards to your own child. The knowledge helps, but your own child is a different story. For example, I mentioned earlier that Abi Kate has been so on the go since she started walking, that she’s not interested in sitting down for a full meal. I know this is age appropriate behavior. I know that this is what toddlers do-- some meals they’re famished and eat like an adult, other meals they eat mostly air. My brain knows this, but did I still feel concerned over her when she started doing that? Yes, I did. Did I ask my been-there-done-that mom friends if their kids hit this phase to give myself a bit of comfort? You bet I did. And I have found that in raising Abi Kate, my experience is no different. I can discipline or correct an entire group of 20+ 4 or 5 year olds and not feel a bit concerned. But when it’s my own child it’s different, because I can’t apply what I did with those children to my own child. In essence, with a classroom, I was merely correcting behavior. I’m not simply correcting behavior with Abi Kate, I’m striving to correct her heart. So the approach is and must be entirely different. I naturally want to fall back into behavior modification strategies, etc. when teaching her how to better respond to a situation. But all that does is alter the behavior. It doesn’t correct the root of the problem, which is her heart. In the classroom, I needed quick results so we could continue learning and playing. I wasn’t in a position, legally, to discuss in depth heart issues with those children. But I’m not in the classroom anymore, and my calling in parenting Abi Kate is much higher than my call in the classroom. I find myself re-reading the above quote, reminding myself not to be self-reliant, to trust in the wisdom of the gospel message and in the capable, omniscient guidance of Christ.

We’re learning a lot these days as far as parenting goes. I’ve always believed that the needs of one child are different than the needs of another, that a “one-size fits all” approach doesn’t work, and that continues to be impressed upon me the older Abi Kate gets. What works now might not work later. I’m learning that we’re going to make mistakes, as much as we don’t want to. But the world will keep spinning. Abi Kate doesn’t require perfectionism from us. One thing I can say for sure-- I’m so grateful to be learning with Tommy. He balances me, reminds me that it’s ok to make mistakes, and reminds me to rely on faith. He makes parenting look easy. I’d like to say that I’ve taken all his wisdom to heart and don’t have a problem applying it. But well, I’d just be lying. :) I’m working on it….and in the meantime, I’ll just fill up my coffee mug again! Because seriously, as soon as she's awake, I'm gonna need it! :)

Redemption at its Best

A week or two ago I passed the 17 year mark. 17 years of redemption. 17 years of following Christ. I thought a lot about those moments leading me up to salvation. I remember sitting on the 2^nd pew of the middle section at church. I even remember what I was wearing-- a really fantastic pink and black sweater with teddy bears on it and some even more fantastic black Chic jeans (please tell me you remember these too?!) It was a Sunday night, our pastor wasn’t there that night and one of the men in our congregation was leading service in his place. I know it had been building for several weeks because I remember the previous weeks, the tug at my heart while I sat in the sanctuary. The nervousness I felt at the benediction because I didn’t want to go forward. I even remember my own reasoning against it, trying to harden my heart even as an 8 year old. Outstanding how even at that young of an age I didn’t want to admit that I was a sinner. But that night, I felt that familiar tug. That night Christ called me, and because He loved me first, I responded. I sat in the pew crying during the prayer, acknowledging my need for Christ, and immediately made myself stop crying when we stood up to sing. I didn’t want to anyone to see me crying. It’s the first time I can remember feeling shame about my spiritual condition- shame because I knew what I was. I knew what Christ had done. And I was embarrassed, embarrassed for other people to know I was a sinner (as if they didn’t know that already ha!) So when service was over, I ran to the water fountain and acted like I’d gotten water in my eye just in case anyone asked why my eyes were watering, in case they noticed I’d been crying.(Obviously, my skills at deception have never been particularly fabulous.) I remember thinking in my mind that I’d tell them I was thinking about my grandfather who’d died years before in case they pressed me on it. Funny how we go to such extremes to hide who we are when we are confronted with it, even as a child. I remember talking with my parents that night in my bedroom. I was even nervous to tell them because they’d know that I had been lost (which is even funnier to me now. Seriously, they KNEW I was lost. As if there was any doubt after my first tantrum as an infant.)

These years of faith have brought me through life’s journey with clearer perspective and with countless lessons. I guess I thought there’d be fewer things for me to learn as I aged. It’s been just the opposite. One of the biggest struggles for me throughout my faith has been for me to understand grace- it’s been easy for me to apply it to my own life but not to others’. I’ve written about that before. But God has been diligent in ushering me to the things of Him in spite of my arrogance and ignorance. I’m not sure if I struggled with this because of my age when I gave my life to Him, that outwardly I hadn’t committed all these “stereotypical sins” that would leave me hollow, or if it’s just because I particularly have an inclination towards pride. I tend to side with the latter. It’s taken me a long time to understand the cost of redemption, and I’m still not there, so to speak. It’s taken me a long time to realize that the sins of the heart and of the mind had left me just as hollow as any outward misgivings.

It usually takes me several days to write a blog in its entirety. One, because I have a one year old who keeps me busy. Two, because I write then rewrite and take forever to compose my thoughts. I’ve come back and forth to this particular post for 2 weeks. Occasionally, I start from the end of a blog and work backwards. At least that’s how this one has panned out. Timing is funny sometimes, because last Sunday, our pastor preached on part of this next section-- the section that I’d written weeks ago. It affirmed in my heart that the Lord has indeed been working on me in this area. That said, here’s the struggle I find within our culture and within myself--

We forget about God’s wrath towards sin and want to dwell only on the love and the forgiveness. I see it all the time in our culture, even renowned pastors preach that “feel good” theology. Christians who claim grace on their lives, claim to love Jesus, but refuse to call sin “sin.” But if we skip God’s wrath, we skip the grace. We miss what a great gift it is, the sacrifice that was involved, and the heart of the Father. Ever offered grace to someone who has repeatedly sinned against, offended you, and will continue to do so even after they apologize and say they love you? Ever given up your priceless child for those who would water down the message in His arrival? This is the picture of God’s mercy and grace towards us. His wrath is righteous, and we deserve it. Romans 5:10 says we were His enemies-- Not sweet, lovable creatures that He just couldn’t live without. It’s really easy to have this lofty view of ourselves, that we’re a lovable people. But that is simply falsehood in the sight of a holy God.  We earned His wrath, yet He offered something else. He offered mercy. And He didn’t just stop there-- He adopted us, He rescued us, He made us His own and brought us into His family, pouring out the riches reserved for His perfect Son onto us.  If we skip that or gloss over how justified God was in offering us nothing but destitution, then we can’t fully understand the magnificence of His grace and the extravagance of His love.

And if we understand the picture of His sacrifice, of the wrath and then the grace, then we are a changed people.  Our lives cannot be the same, and they won’t look like the world’s. It will alter the decisions we make, the way we think, and the company we keep. I can speak whatever I want, but unless my words are backed up with actions and life-change, it looks like foolishness to the world, hypocrisy at its best. A real encounter with Grace demands change, not just words. Simply dwelling on God’s mercy, letting it make us feel good, just isn’t enough.  

I think this is where it’s an easy spot to get hung up. It’s easy to look upon the baby in the manger. It is warm and tender, innocent and full of life. Jesus the baby is proof of God’s love, the evidence of the pursuit of His Creation. But Jesus, the man, on the cross-- that is something else to behold. It is proof of our sin and proof of God’s justice. It acts like a mirror when you look upon it, and what it reflects is truth-- the reality of who we are and what we are apart from Christ. It is offensive, and I suppose it should be-- the gospel offends. I think that’s why the world struggles to accept this image, of Jesus’ ministry and sacrifice. It demands a second look at ourselves, introspection that reveals our depravity. We are exposed as less than adequate at the foot of the cross, and this goes against our inward love of self. It is why people are angered when you mention the name of Christ. It is why Christians don’t like calling sin by its name, instead we call that ‘judgment of others’ to make it feel and look a bit easier because otherwise, we might end up identifying the sin in our own lives. The cross of Christ is where horror and love collide, where grace intertwines with righteousness, where the realities of sin meet the riches of mercy. And it is hard to embrace because it pictures death-- an agonizing, selfless death. But right alongside that picture, there is life. And if we don’t look at the cross, if we turn our eyes away because it’s too much to look upon, then we also miss the life-- life that erupts as a result of the death of the Perfect One. The blood that runs down the cross isn’t just evidence of the death of Christ, it is evidence of our life in Him. It is punishment intermingled with freedom. I read once that when Jesus cried out from the cross, that the Greek term suggests that it wasn’t a quiet whisper or a whimper of emotion-- it was a scream. A guttural death cry, echoed for all to hear. How could it be anything else? Jesus’ sacrifice was extreme, and His life far from mediocrity. Why should the final cry to His Father be any different? Why should my life reflect anything different?

I’ve never seen anyone justify their own mediocrity, their own wrong actions like a believer, myself included. We have a way of picking out what we like in scripture and saying that we fully accept this idea, but we don’t really embrace another idea. That’s not what scripture “really means.” The reality is-- who am I to choose? I don’t get to choose what is valid and what isn’t in the living words of a holy God. I have a call to obedience-- I am the creation not the Creator. Either we believe in the sufficiency of the gospel or we don’t. We either believe it’s inerrant or we don’t. It isn’t a gray area to be washed down with our own pretty theology or science or morals. Oh we cling to salvation, to the blessings promised, but when that same Scripture requires a sacrifice on our part and demands that we live differently than we want or what is acceptable or comfortable, we push the opt-out button.  I know because I am far too familiar with that button.

See, I am so many of these things mentioned above. I’ve dwelt in so many of them- - easily slipping into complacency, easily glossing over the realities for a more acceptable picture of forgiveness, easily speaking of His grace in my life but struggling when it’s time to apply it to my actions. It has taken me 17 years to get a true glimpse of what grace actually means, of the price that it cost; and somehow, I know I still don’t get it all. I know the coming years will bring it to light and life more fully. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not encouraging judgment of others, but that is different from calling sin what it is. I don’t have an image of an angry God lacking in love, handing out punishments with pleasure.  Quite the contrary, in fact. But I believe in the holiness of God, and I believe it’s more than I can comprehend. In fact, this holiness that makes it “right” or “ fair” (for lack of better words) for Him to pour out His wrath, it is what makes His love so significant to me. How easy is it to love the lovable?! The kind hearted. The thoughtful. The compassionate and sympathetic. People who place you first always and themselves last. It is SO easy to love them. It takes almost no effort whatsoever. But to love your enemy, to bring them into your own family, to ransom them when they will continue to do wrong by you but shout your praises while they offend-- to love THAT person…. That is real love. It is sacrificial and has depths that are unreachable. That is the love that Christ has for me, for us. It is Redemption at its best. So I’m not going to water down His righteousness and His perfect justice and His call for obedience, because I would simply be watering down His love along with it.  

I still struggle with obedience, with letting go. There’s a line in one of my new favorite songs (courtesy of my sister) that says “Father, use my ransomed life in any way you choose.” I often stop at that line and don’t sing it out loud because truthfully, I’m afraid of it. I don’t want to simply say the words and sing it without meaning- that’s empty worship. But meaning it in my heart means embracing anything--things that might be hard, sorrowful; and they might bring great change. And I tremble at the thought sometimes. This is where the heart of the Father is precious to me-- He is patient in growing me, in stretching me. And even though I should I have no trouble releasing my life to the One who gave it to me, there is grace as I strive towards knowing Him more, in losing parts of myself as I press on into Him. 

Sovereign Grace said it better than I did, and more fluidly:

  

“But as I ran my hell-bound race 
Indifferent to the cost 
You looked upon my helpless state 
And led me to the cross 
And I beheld God’s love displayed 
You suffered in my place 
You bore the wrath reserved for me 
Now all I know is grace."

Thank you, Jesus.

The Big O-N-E!

It has been one crazy last week! I believe birthday mania is finally subsiding and my house is beginning to recouperate from the birthday explosion. I thought I might be sad all day on her birthday, but I wasn’t. I cried mostly all day Thursday (I know I need to get a grip), but come Friday, I was so excited to celebrate her birth! She had all sorts of fun with new gifts and new foods on Friday. She got to try her first processed food, first refined sugar, and first grains-- all wrapped up in the form of a Pillsbury cinnamon roll. Yum. I only gave her a little bit, just tossed it in with her blueberries and pineapples. I walked over to the fridge to fill up her sippy cup with water, and when I turned around all of the cinnamon roll was gone. I’d say she liked it ;)

We had a birthday party on Saturday with our immediate families and several close friends who’ve invested themselves in Abi Kate this past year. She always gets excited to see her little friends, so even though she was running on only one nap, she still had a blast. And even though we requested no gifts, she still made off with new bibs, books, toys, clothes, money, and even personalized pacifiers (who knew they could put names on pacis?! So cute!). We opted for a sock monkey theme, for no specific reason except I liked it! For some reason that I cannot explain to you now, I decided it would be a fantastic idea to make the decorations for her party. I am not crafty, people. It’s not that I’m not creative. I can be creative, but then I quickly find someone that I can pay to bring any creativity to life. I seemed to be laboring under some delusion that this would be better, cheaper, and more meaningful. While I’m happy to say that I covered the more meaningful part, I’m not sure I can tag it with “better” and definitely not with “cheaper.” Things that take other people a few minutes to make take me more like a few ages. Multiple hot glue burns, endless ribbon, and more than 2 dozen helium balloons later, I have accepted my title as Uncrafty Momma. (Seriously, there is a scar on my index finger that no longer has feeling from one burn in particular!) As a result, every future Garrett child will be having a sock monkey first birthday party. And should we have a boy, I hope he likes pink! But I do have all the memories of working on them for her and thinking about her as I worked. It was worth it. 

 Delicious cupcakes! (At least I was smart enough not to attempt to make these!)

 Sock Monkey Cake Pops (I'm ashamed to admit how many of these I ate...)

 The sign- in table

 We had everyone sign this book for Abi Kate as a memory book. Who doesn't love Dr. Seuss?!

 You cannot see it well in this picture, but on the front of the candy table there is a flag banner made from sock monkey fabric. THIS is the culprit that left burns ALL over my fingers (Seriously, I didn't even get a picture of it?!)... Never again...

 Her month-by-month pictures above the candy table... She has changed so much!

 The playdough table for the big kids

She played with her friends in the ball pit and ate an entire cupcake and we were able to see what a sugar high looks like in our 1 year old. Oh my. Wild Woman.  And then we got to watch the crash afterwards. We both said in the car, “And this is why we opt not to feed her refined sugar.”

 Our sweet 1 year old!

 This is what the end of a sugar high looks like.

After she woke up she decided it was play time again while we loaded the car. And I am seriously in love with these sock monkey woolies. This is one part of cloth diapering I am not allowing myself to get addicted to! (Or at least I'm trying)

We followed up her birthday weekend with her 12-month checkup, which involved a terrible finger prick, not exactly a great birthday gift. She now weighs 20 lbs 10 oz and is 28 in tall, which puts her right between the 40-45 percentiles in both. If you knew her when she was a baby you’d know how hilarious this is. For the first 8 months of her life, she rocked the 90-95 percentiles for weight and height. Her pediatrician told me she’d probably gain very quickly in the beginning and then plateau off after a few months. He was dead on. I guess it’s hard to hang on to the 95% in weight when you don’t sit still for more than 15 seconds at a time. ;) In her full year, Abi Kate has never been to the doctor for anything other than well-checks, and I am unbelievably thankful! She’s had a cold once and the sniffles once. She’s never had a fever or ear infection or stomach virus, and I’m just so grateful. Everytime  we go, her doctor always says she is the picture of health. I’m just thankful that Christ has been faithful to answer our prayers about her every day health. I'm such a hypochondriac, so I’m sure the first time she gets really sick I’ll be melting down. I'm glad we squeaked through the first year without this experience!

                                               

She isn’t walking yet, and I still think she has another good month or so until she takes those first steps. But she has started standing unassisted. She doesn’t do it all the time, but when she’s really distracted she’ll stand for a decent amount of time. The other times, it’s just funny to watch her face when she has realized she’s let go and is standing alone. Her fourth tooth broke through the day before her birthday, guess he didn’t want to be late to the party. She looks a little older with all those big girl teeth.

Her new favorite things are:

• Pretending like she’s talking on the phone. She’ll use just her hand or steal my cell phone and put it up to her ear and say “Heeeyy”
• Asking for more food-- She says “Mo! Mo!” when she sees food she wants, is hungry, or actually wants more food. She hung out with some friends who have used baby sign language before and she came home signing “more” along with the word, which is cute to watch, too. 
• Looking at books by herself- We have a huge basket of books in every room that Abi Kate plays in (courtesy of teaching). Sometimes, I’ll just watch her crawl across the floor and grab a book and sit down and “read it” to herself. I have no clue what she’s saying, but she turns the pages and points at the pictures in the book and just babbles. I think we might’ve read “No More Monkeys” a few too many times as she looked at the book the other day and shook her fingers at the monkeys and said, “No, no!”  Whoops….
• Pulling everything out of drawers within her reach-- At any given time, there’s likely to be pans on my kitchen floor, burp clothes and onesies on her floor, and panties all over mine. She also likes wearing my underwear like a necklace… I held her for five minutes the other day before realizing there was a pair around her neck. Is it bad that it fits her like that?!
• Cleaning up-- I’ve started modeling for her how to pick up her toys. She’s a little copy cat, so she thinks it’s great to put blocks away and other toys into a container. We always clap afterwards, and sometimes she gives me a high five. 
• Clapping her hands- This is still a favorite. She claps when we start “Pat-a-cake” or if we sing “If You’re Happy and You Know It”. I also listen to mostly live worship music when I’m driving, so at the end when people are clapping, I always hear her in the back seat clapping too and saying “Yaaaaa.” 

 These are big, important things, people- Clapping your hands?! Come on.. that’s HUGE! ;)

And at the risk of completely humiliating myself... See, underwear around the neck. Fantastic.

The morning after her birthday, we brought her into our room and played with her on our bed when she woke up. Tommy and I both looked at each other and said she seemed older. She was playing more purposefully-- handed Tommy his phone, she picked up mine and put it up to her ear and said, “Hey.” She stood herself up, wiggling and jiggling the whole way, and let go. When he brought her in, she didn’t see me in the bed, so when I rolled over she laughed out loud and said, “Mama!” She just seemed like an older baby, and I guess she is. I thought it would make me sad, but instead it made me excited. Excited to watch where this year takes her, to see her do things she couldn’t before, and to see her grow. Our first year with her has been as close to perfection as we could imagine. We’re looking forward to another year full of memories with our lovely little lady. 

Fluffity Fluff

Yes, I have been blogging, blogging, blogging this past week… more than I ever have (or probably ever will again!) It’s been a good outlet for me as it seems I was just made to be one big basketcase of emotions as I got closer to Friday. My mind needed to write but my heart needed something light-hearted, so I picked this topic… I had good intentions of posting this last week but life happened…

You know what I’ve really enjoyed about Abi Kate’s babyhood? Changing diapers! I’m totally serious. Abi Kate is cloth diapered, which I know grosses about half of the American population out upon first mention; but I’m completely addicted to it. Like if I have extra money, guess what I want to spend it on?! Diapers! I know, I’m revealing how strange I am right now…

I was cloth diapered as a baby, so I always assumed I would do cloth, too. Except my mom and all the other women from the 80’s and down-- they are the REAL cloth diaperers, when it wasn't convenient or easy or cute. I’m like the fake version. They used prefolds and pins and rubber pants. No, thank you. I have attempted a prefold with a pin before. When I picked up the baby, the diaper fell off. Thank goodness there are gobs and gobs of user-friendly choices these days!

I chose cloth for a few different reasons… First, there are very few chemicals in cloth diapers. If you haven’t already, you can read about my sluggish transformation and stance on chemicals here. They’re healthier, more breathable, and there’s less diaper rash. Win, win, win. Second, it’s cheaper than spending money on disposables that go into the trash. Honestly, I would’ve cloth diapered if it was more expensive, but it just happens to be a bonus that it isn’t. Third, it’s like an accessory. I can literally match her bows with her diapers. Enough said. J Fourth, I’m definitely no environmentalist. However, the thought of all that bacteria and chemicals inside of disposables being placed into the ground where they sit, get into the soil, it rains and creates run-off which reaches the ground where my food is grown-- that whole idea just grossed me out in ways I can’t explain. I didn’t want to be a contributing factor to that. Last, I don’t wear paper underwear. That doesn’t sound comfortable. Cloth diapers are just softer and made sense to me.

See- squishy and cute 

Abi Kate was 5 or 6 weeks old when we started cloth with her. We waited a few weeks for a couple reasons…. 1. I ordered her diapers from a small company that is sadly no longer in existence. Even though I ordered the week or two before she was born, they didn’t arrive until she was 5 or 6 weeks old. 2. If you’ve ever breastfed, you know what the first few weeks look like. It’s literally a diaper change every time they eat, which is about every 2 hours. That’s a lot of diapers every day and therefore, a lot of laundry. I was afraid I would stress myself out by having to do laundry in those early weeks.

These are the top complaints I hear about cloth diapers and my thoughts:

“Gross! Poop in a cloth diaper!” -- Ok, this one usually comes from people who aren’t parents or who haven’t changed many diapers. Honestly, it’s really not nastier to deal with poop in a cloth diaper. For one, it smells less because there’s no chemicals in cloth like there are in disposables. No poop interacting with strange chemical concoctions to make a bad smell worse… Second, with a cloth diaper, poop goes in the toilet and is flushed away (which is where it belongs in my opinion)-- It doesn’t sit around inside your house or your baby’s room in a pail for a week or until the trash goes out stinking the room up…. Also, if your baby has ever had a diaper explosion that’s gotten on their clothes, then you’ve done far more work at cleaning cloth than you’ll have to do when cleaning poop out of a cloth diaper. If it was that nasty, I wouldn’t do it. Trust me. Back when I was a baby, they soaked dirty diapers in a wet pail. I’m too much of a germaphobe to get ok with that one. Insert the diaper sprayer for the faint of heart, like myself. You don’t touch anything, spray the poop away, and it is gone and out of your house.

“They’re expensive” -- Depends which kind you pick. Either way, top line or not, you’re likely going to save gobs of money.  Use your own cloth wipes and you’ll save even more (I know-- this grossed me out, too until I realized she gets MUCH cleaner with these than with a disposable wipe). The average American spends $1,000 dollars per year on disposable diapers. Most kids are in diapers until 2, some longer (especially at night). I have a stash that is much larger than I need (because I’m addicted- I told you!), and it cost me about half of one year’s worth of diapers. And mine can be reused with subsequent children. See, they’re looking better and better aren’t they?! ;) Of course, I tend to prefer the ones that are more expensive. Story of my life. I wish I could love those 5 dollar pocket diapers, but I just can’t. I like American-made and that means a higher price tag. Even with my preferences and stash size, I still have spent around 60-75% less than the average person spends on disposables per child.

“It’s so much laundry”-- Yes, it is more laundry. But not so much more. Some people pay to have a diaper service clean their diapers. I prefer to do my own. The diapers stay in my care and are used with the type of cleaner that I want. (Control issues, anyone?!)  And I save more money. I have enough diapers now to last me about 4 days maybe 5 without doing laundry. Unfortunately, my diaper pail only holds about 2-3 days worth of diapers. ;) Honestly, I think it’s gross to leave them sitting for longer than that even if I could, and it’s not good for the diapers as it can cause build up. So on average, I do about 2 more loads of laundry than I used to. And guess what else- -I LOVE doing diaper laundry. When all those diapers are hanging up to dry over my washer, they look so lovely. I’d rather wash diapers than towels any day.

I think the cloth diapering world is a bit overwhelming to people when they first get started for a few reasons. There are so many types of diapers and so many brands that people don’t know where to start. I think I’ve tried about 5 different types of diapers and a variety of brands within each of these types. Another reason people get overhwlemed is because such a big deal is made about how to properly care for them (aka the laundry). After a year of cloth, here’s my take--

I’ve tried a variety of systems. 

• All-in-Ones (literally just like a disposable diaper except made of cloth, put it on and you’re done) 
• Pockets (looks like an all-in-one, it just has a pocket where you stuff in an insert so you can increase/decrease the absorbency of these), 
• Prefolds with a cover (prefolds look like burp cloths with a waterproof cover over them), 
• Fitteds with a cover (a fitted diaper goes on like a regular disposable diaper, but it isn’t waterproof, so it has to have some type of cover to keep in wetness), 
• Hybrids (These are basically a cover that has multiple insert options- some inserts are disposable, some are reusable) 
• All-in-Two (basically any diaper system that has two parts, but goes on as one piece once stuffed). 

And in each of these, there’s a variety of sizing, variety of materials, snaps vs. aplix, etc. It made my head spin in the beginning. What I’ve found is that different types of diapers work best for what my needs are. These are my favorites and what makes up my stash:

Pockets- Overall, these are a favorite. We use pockets for quick diaper changes, daytime, whenever we go out anywhere because they’re very convenient, and sometimes overnight. I prefer aplix because I feel like it gets a better fit. I know tons of people of LOVE snaps on their diapers. I’m just not a fan. Aplix is easy-- everybody can do it, it’s just like a disposable. I also prefer more natural fibers like bamboo or hemp(and not because they’re “natural”.) Their absorbency is almost always bullet proof for us as Abi Kate is a super heavy wetter, and they are more trim than microfiber inserts.

Fitteds/Cover- These are another favorite.I use fitteds while we’re at home during the day (not for going out anywhere) and overnight. They have great absorbency for nighttime and rarely do we have leaks in the morning. I don’t have to stuff them heavily like I do pockets for nighttime sleeping. Fitteds are where I splurge the most. ;) I use a variety of covers-- most are aplix PUL covers which makes them waterproof. At night, I prefer a fitted with a fleece soaker. They’re more breathable. And bonus, my friend Rachel makes them!

Prefolds/Cover- I have a few prefolds because I’d feel like a fake cloth diaperer if I didn’t. I can fold a prefold ok. Now they make Snappis or Boingos-- goodbye scary diaper pins. But I just never could love these. I use the same aplix PUL covers over these as I do my fitteds. Some of the covers I have allow it to become a hybrid or all-in-two. Basically, I lay the prefold down flat in the cover, no folding or pinning. The cover has material that holds the prefold down, and then I just put it on all as one system. These are kind of my backup. I have friends that used only prefolds and can fold a diaper in their sleep. Impressive and much more economical-- I’m just not skilled enough with my wiggly baby!

All-in-Ones-- I started off with these, only 12 of them. Loved them, and then found other diapers that I loved more.

I prefer One-size diapers. Yes, that’s right--the same diapers that fit Abi Kate at 5 weeks old fit her now at 1 year old and will continue to grow with her. This is part of the reason why cloth diapering is so economical in my opinion. Another benefit-- when I’m done with a particular diaper, don’t like it, etc. I can sell it and recoup some of my cost. Can’t do that with a used disposable! In fact, at one point, my all in ones started leaking, and I was itching to try new diapers. So I sold off about half of them and used the money I made to buy new diapers.

The whole laundry thing that scares lots of people has become very simplified in my opinion. Most websites and companies tell you not to use detergent with this, that, or the other, use only so much, etc. Here’s what I’ve found- laundry is laundry. You’re washing cloth. If they stink when you take them out of the wash, they aren’t clean. Use more detergent, just like with regular clothing. I’m really picky about the detergent I use anyway, so I prefer not to use detergent that has enzymes, optical brighteners, and scents anyway. Some people won’t do diapers without a detergent containing enzymes. It’s just personal preference. A big deal is also made about how you wash them too- the number of rinses, wash cycles, air dry/dryer etc. I’ve found it depends on your diapers, how hard your water is, and the type of detergent you use. I’ve tried several different wash routines and I know what works for me best now. It’s really just trial and error. The long and short-- it’s just laundry. Don’t stress over it. And when you want to get stains out- put them in the sun. It naturally kills stains, germs, and stink.

This is the secret: find a friend who has clothed before you. My friend Rachel started cloth diapering her daughter a few months before I had Abi Kate, so I was able to ask her, “Do you think I really need this? How many diapers do you think I truly need? How do you wash covers….” and on and on. You’ll find a thousand different reviews online, but I think it’s easiest just to trust the opinion of someone you know.

We’re not purists. Abi Kate wears a disposable when she is at church or with someone who isn’t comfortable changing cloth. And we used them every night for a while before we could figure out a nighttime solution for her. However, I just bought a pack of disposable diapers for the first time in 3 months yesterday. It took 3 months to go through a 36 pack.  That’s gotta make your heart smile ;)

 My sweet, chubby 3 month old. P.S.- this diaper still fits. And the photo is courtesy of Jen Turner Photography.

 Baby Legs and cloth diapers are a perfect match!

 Pink Pocket diaper

 Matching!! Pampers have no appeal after this!!

 Look at that fluffy heiney... Love it!

Fleece soaker right before bed. I promise my baby DOES wear pants regularly! ;)