Little Bird

I went to Breaking Dawn (part two) with my movie girls last night. I needed that movie. There have been far too many tears lately. I am so far down I think we can officially name it depressed. As I settled in my chair I arranged my snacks (the movie is second to the snacks, yes?) and prepared to let my mind be entertained by bad dialogue and brooding vampires for a while. And then somebody wheeled a stroller in. I couldn't tell how old the little one was. Around Bennett's age? A bit younger? He had a clear bit of babble at times during the movie but was quite silent throughout so perhaps he was younger than he looked. I don't know. It was dark. Most of the time I don't care what other parents do. You know I'm not a perfect parent. J really  knows I'm not a perfect parent. Every parent has their moments, but bringing a baby to a movie - especially one like Breaking Dawn - is inconsiderate and selfish. The previews, which are usually my favorite part,

Yesterday Bennett pointed at the mantle. "This?" he asked, as he does three thousand times a day. I lifted him over the gate J built in front of the fire place and held him up to Charlotte's shelf. "Bird candle. Candle. Pretty container." What else are you going to call the urn that holds your dead baby's ashes? It feels weird telling a 14 month old what an urn is. He touched each item I showed him and then pointed to Charlotte's picture. "This?" "Charlotte. Your sister." I set him on the other side of the gate, eased her picture from the shelf and set it in his hands. Bennett was delighted. He's in that obsessed with other babies stage all toddlers go through. He carried the picture around. Hugged it close. Kissed it. There isn't a thing on earth that can prepare a heart for the split second in time when your living child kisses your dead child's picture. I wish I had grabbed the camera, but I used my ph

** I write these posts over time. When I think of a confession I jot it down and when I have enough scraps of paper I compile them into a post. The other day a confessions post from a blogger friend popped up in my feed. I love that someone else decided to post confessions. I thought it would be fun to let anyone who wants to join in. There's a spot at the bottom to link up! ** I often do the dinner dishes during breakfast. Educational projects (anything sensory) always work out better in my mind. If I hear a strange noise I dial 91 on my cell phone and then go looking. I blame this on J who once told me a story about a man who hid in a family's attic for days. He waited for the husband to leave and then he murdered the wife. Thanks for that urban legend, honey. The other day I found Bennett licking the (open) battery compartment of the carbon monoxide detector (which is not plugged in). So basically he was licking a battery. And our household is unsafe. I le

I'm writing from the Trader Joe's parking lot. I couldn't decide when to do the monthly grocery shopping for December because life is a little busy. Guess what? Nap time was not a good choice. Now I'm blogging in a parking lot instead of cleaning the house, which is so messy I don't know where to start. I feel so disorganized and scattered right now. When I bought gas ten minutes ago I couldn't figure out why the attendent was tapping on my window. I forgot to pop the tank, and it took me a few confused seconds to figure out what was going on. I'm sure scrolling through facebook updates while sitting there was not part of the problem ... Today is curly hair day one. I used Bed Head Foxy something. Foxy Curls? Foxy Curly? I think it looks okay. One of the reasons I dislike my hair in this state is because it makes me look so young. I have no idea where the picture posted since I'm doing this from my phone, but what do you think? Please entertain me. I

We had an incredible sermon today. It was the kind that just pins you to the pew; I felt rooted to my seat as the pastor spoke. He preached on the passage in Mark (4: 35-41) where Jesus calms the storm. He spoke on faith and belief and understanding that the Lord can calm any storm we face. We just have to trust Him and His power. We have to trust that someone who is powerful enough to calm the ocean can calm any storm we face. I'm not distilling this down very well at all, but I'm trying. I felt so convicted when he said Christians believe everything in life is going to be fine simply because we believe, but that's not the case at all. He  said, "You can live squarely in the will of God and still have your business fail. You can live squarely in the will of God and still have your family fall apart. To which I add, you can live squarely in the will of God and still have your baby die. When life goes sideways we turn to heaven and ask, "do you even care?&qu

After spending the morning looking at old photos I can say with absolute accuracy and no exaggeration whatsoever that I have always had hair issues. From a scrapbook my mama made for me. Circa late 90s/early 00s. Also: if I ever mention even the merest whisper of a thought about reintroducing bangs into my life stop me. Use force if you have to. In the Hunger Games series one of the books (I think the first one) mentions a device that you place your hand on after you step out of the shower which makes one's hair dry, straight and shiny (if I'm remembering correctly; it's been years). I want that device.  When I was around 25 I discovered the joy that comes from a hair straightener, but to have straight hair without doing anything is my ultimate goal. My problem is that I don't have curly or straight hair. I have super thick hair that has varying degrees of wave to it. And I no longer have regularly scheduled hair appointments to help manage my hair. I refuse

Oh my stars in heaven, I just finished off the other half of the mini chocolate cream pie J made for me. My goodness that was delicious. He is going to regret making it because I will ask for it constantly now. So, I wasn't going to blog about this, but I kind of feel like my head may explode, and maybe my heart too. Some time ago J and I decided on a "let's try for another baby date." (Are you excited? I'm not sure how to feel, but if you're excited I'll probably feel just a smidge of excitement.) Now that date is not yet upon us, but it's coming up on the calendar, and my current state of mind looks something like a Jackson Pollock painting. As in, I be jumbled and confused and a little bit frantic. On Monday I'm going to call the doctor who helped me through Bennett's pregnancy (I refuse to say he delivered Bennett because I'm the one who pushed out that posterior baby who refused to drop his hands and so was born with them BY HIS

I did it! I made my first Thanksgiving meal - with lots of help from my mama. I did all the menu planning, though! We made:  Turkey Stuffing  Gravy Rolls  Mashed Potatoes  Braised Cabbage with Apple  Roasted Sweet Potatoes and Apples Pomegranate seeds (this was the cranberry alternative) My Mama's Jello Dish And J made apple pie and chocolate cream pie. He made four pies all told: apple pie, gluten free apple pie (for Bennett) chocolate cream pie, and miniature chocolate cream pie sans eggs (for me). I have never cooked so much food in one go. My mom and I cooked for hours yesterday and did a fair amount before dinner today too. And this was happening while we cooked: Chef bonus = sampling  First apple pie. So. much. sugar. Blessed. And thankful.

We had a lot of fun with J's family over the weekend. The best part about visiting family is free baby sitting. We were hoping to sneak off and see the new Bond movie, but weren't able to fit it in. We did manage a quick date at a cafe while Bennett was napping on Sunday. I love this candid shot. B and I have the exact same gait. We had a terrible drive home yesterday. It poured buckets while we were up North and there was a lot of standing water on the road when we drove home. The rain hammered on the roof. It was so loud J and I had to shout at each other to be heard. J said it's the worst driving conditions he's ever experienced. I'm just glad he was at the wheel. I hate driving. It's still raining today, but at least there have been a few breaks. I think the flood and severe weather watch has been lifted. On Friday I'm making my first Thanksgiving dinner for my family (with my mom and J's help). Bennett will probably hel

solves his first case I was going to post these on facebook, but decided they needed a wider audience. I had no idea I had snapped a little story until I sat down to upload the pictures. Toddlers are so much fun.

Yesterday we went to church with J's parents. They attend a small church. Most of the parishoners are retired, and very sweet. After the service a potluck Thanksgiving lunch was taking place so we sat at round tables instead of in traditional rows. We were at the front table, off to the left. The pastor was speaking on thanksgiving - naturally - and at one point he spoke of his daughter and how beautiful she was at birth. He paused and then said, "is. She is beautiful." I thought about how lucky he was to be able to correct to the present tense. And how I'm still so angry I'll never have that opportunity with my daughter. At the end of the service his last point focused on being thankful for people who encourage us. He told the story of his baby who died from SIDS, years ago. As soon as he said, "crib death," my eyes welled up. I didn't want to cry. I hate crying in public, in front of people I don't know, but I couldn't stop the tears f

We're headed to the back of beyond tomorrow. Four days with limited internet service!! I'll miss you. And Instagram. And Facebook. What can I say, I'm addicted. And at least once while we are gone I will be pressed up against a window trying to get a signal ... I just did a confessions post, but thought I would put another one up since I'll be gone a few days. I love these posts; they're so fun to write. ** I don't own makeup. And I don't know how to apply it. I used to have a mascara tube from my wedding floating around that I would halfheartedly apply if we were going somewhere nice, but it's long gone.  I think J and I would fall to pieces if we were on a show like The Amazing Race. Kindness while undergoing stress is not my strength. Sometimes I do something that is not very wise, but everything turns out fine so I don't correct my behavior. Example: putting Bennett in his seat and then turning to get something out of the diaper bag wi

Yesterday afternoon I finally took Bennett to the clinic for another round of vaccines. I don't think he's had a round since he was nine months old. We are way, way behind. Bennett reacts to every single vaccine because of his egg allergy (that's my theory at least). I initially figured out he was allergic to eggs because of vaccines. We had one of the Russian medical assistants. Most are curt, but kind. "Take off ze baby's pants." "Oh, oh baby. One jab, one jab." "No cry baby. One more jab." "Done."  And then we are alone in the room. I put Bennett's sweats on, pick him up and point at the mirror that spans one wall. He quits crying. I shrug at myself in the mirror. Why do I dread the appointments so much? Why does it take me months to schedule one? At 1 in the morning I am reminded why. Bennett is itchy. His stomach hurts. He is exhausted, but can't settle. I try nursing, but he doesn't want milk. H

These pictures are wonderful. If I get a few more I'll do a second post! And one more of B. J forgot to snap his onesie before bed. This is what I found when I changed his diaper the next morning.

J parents as well as (if not better than) me. But clothes are not his thing. The contents of B's closet absolutely baffle him. He is better than I am with colors. If I pick out three shirts he can tell me which one looks best with a pair of pants, but starting from scratch proves difficult for him. A while ago I mentioned I've always wanted to start a 'when dad dresses the baby' blog. Since I don't have the wherewithal to start another blog right now I thought a post would be fun. I am feet up on the couch today with a touch of the flu and need entertained. Send me your pictures (littlebird0514@gmail.com) and once I have quite a few I'll put them all together in a post. I know I'm not the only one who has encountered an unsnapped onesie under pajamas, or sweats on the bottom and a dress shirt on top. Okay, this one is not J's fault. I just thought it was too cute not to share. The pants said newborn, but were definitely labeled incorrectly.

At the end of the evening we pick up B's toys. He helps. Some. Mostly he runs about and tucks his toys - treasures all - in what he deems safe havens: blocks on the bookcase and under chairs; cars and plastic people under the couch. We always miss something. Every night I step into the hall and find toys that must be picked up lest I step on them in the middle of the night when B wakes to nurse. These toys speak. Loudly. They say, "a child lives here." This house is occupied by a winsome boy who hits the floor and plays possum if he becomes the focus of too much attention. When I was pregnant with B I had nightmares about selling all of the baby furniture we had accumulated. It would be the extended version of Ernest Hemingway's heart wrenching, gut twisting "For Sale: Baby shoes, never worn." If B went the way of his sister I would be faced with composing an ad for a life that was never tried on. It was either that or burn the nursery furniture in the