Picture Post

It's no secret that I love how much my kids look alike. Who knows if this will always be the case, but for now, I think it's tons of fun. 

Lillian, April 2012

Lillian, March 2012. Immediately after this photo she jammed the flowers into her mouth. 

Elliott in our Bradford Pear tree in March 2014. 

Elliott at his dedication on 3/18/14.

Hobby, rediscovered

Once upon a time I used to run. I picked it up in college as a way to spend time with friends/stay in some sort of shape, and continued it into my early years in Charleston. I ran the Cooper River Bridge run three times. And then we spontaneously got an adorable puppy in April 2010 who needed lots of exercise and BOOM my running career ended and I became a walker. Throw a couple of pregnancies (which produce kids, by the way) into the mix and my motivation to run sank lower and lower.
This all changed about three weeks ago when I went to watch the end of Thomas' Tough Mudder race. My friend Caroline, who is an incredible natural athlete, had casually decided to run the race that week and only finished a few minutes behind the guys. To be completely honest, my first reaction to this was pure jealousy of her awesomeness and frustration with my own lack of fitness. So I took a deep breath and told Thomas that I wanted to start running again, and we strategized about ways to make this happen. [Sidebar: one of the keys to staying sane while staying at home with small children is my supportive husband, who is quick to help me get out of the house or change up what can sometimes feel like a stifling routine, whether it's Bible study, writing blog posts, running, or working part time. Love that man.]
I invested in some good running shoes (Brooks, if you're curious), and have started pounding the pavement 3-4 times per week for the last couple of weeks. I'm certainly not going to be breaking any land speed records any time soon but it feels great to be out doing something challenging. Yesterday a man drove by as I was finishing a double stroller run and yelled "You go, Mama!" and it totally made my day. (Quick! Spot the words of affirmation girl!) I prefer running with Elliott, who hangs out quietly playing with toys until he goes to sleep--man do I love that kid-- but have survived a couple of runs with Lillian, too. And I even went by myself once, which I appreciate about 1000x more than I did back in 2010. There's nothing like responding to a two-year-old's unending stream of questions and demands while you're winded and pushing a double stroller. #goodtimes
I'm hoping to do a few races this year with local friends and college friends to help keep my motivation going.

Instagram repeat, sorry. Running in the springtime is glorious!

It's fun to be running with Thomas again! Plus our three additions.

Wordless Wednesday

I'm pretty sure this picture will never get old

SEVEN

Apparently I'm into numbered lists these days. Maybe it's a type of organization subconsciously designed to compensate for the chaos that is the rest of my life?
 Here are seven things about Elliott at seven months old (See what I did there? Cleverness abounds).

1. He is strong and very determined, despite an overall laid back personality. He wants desperately to crawl, but instead of the standard position of rocking back and forth on his hands and knees, he pulls himself into a plank position and flings his body forward. He manages to move, and always looks so pleased to find himself somewhere new.
2. Eating. At 23 pounds, homeboy hasn't skipped too many meals. He eats three solid meals per day and nurses 5-6 times. Whenever he cries, Lillian always says "baby el-we-ut wants to eat," and she is usually right.
3. We dedicated him to The Lord on Sunday with our good friends the Tates, who have girls within a couple months of our kiddos. It was a sweet time where we publicly declared our intention to raise him in Christ and the church body promised to support us. At this point, since Elliott obviously can't decide for himself what he believes, we have vowed to show him what a saving knowledge of Jesus looks like, as Christ works in us to do this. Pretty exciting stuff! Sadly, I have no pictures of this, but he was very smiley and we unintentionally managed to coordinate with the Tates so the kids matched in shades of aqua blue.
4. Baby Elliott loves toys, and Lillian alternately loves and hates that he is down on the floor playing "with" her often these days.
5. He has beautiful blue eyes and wispy brown hair that either looks spiky like L's did, or like a little old man combover.
6. Mr. Chubs wears 12 month, 12-18 month or 18 month clothing. I am thankful for a healthy, growing boy even though it is difficult to dress him in this NEVER ENDING WINTER because he has already outgrown 90% of his winter clothing. Ahem.
7. He is a social little guy with plenty to say and lots of smiles. Given his big sister's propensity for talking, I'm definitely glad that he wants to be in the mix.  He also has an awesome belly laugh that doesn't take too much prompting.

Posing at the library. Seems unsure about how sanitary the carpet is. Me too, buddy, me too. 

Blurry, but there is the plank!

Seriously, how redneck-y are we?? Sullivan is the black blob on the couch

More almost crawling

Tiny superhero!

Not quite the same as when he was a newborn, but still adorbs

He LOVES Thomas

Kid is going to lay the smackdown on his first birthday cake

Seriously squishy--cheeks and fingers especially. 

Going to the park

One of my favorite things to do that I view as a particular privilege of my stay-at-home-mom status is to take an afternoon walk with the kiddos and the dog. Now that Lillian has reached prime "park-playing" age, our walks are almost always to the neighborhood park, about half a mile away.
I'm sure that when I look back on these halcyon afternoons, I will choose not to remember how dadgum long it takes me to get out of the house for these blessed occasions.
The following list could be entitled, "how to prepare for a walk with a 2 year old, a baby and a giant dog" in 18 easy steps.

1. Prepare the stubborn two year old for this event. Start mentioning at least 30 minutes in advance that you are going to leave the house soon. Deal with tears and tantrums if they happen, and no matter what STAY STRONG. She is not the boss.
2. Get the dog suited up in his collar, harness and leash. Know that he will now follow you everywhere to make sure that you don't abandon this plan.
3. Convince the stubborn two year old to pee ("But Mommy! I already went pee!" "Lillian, peeing 3 hours ago doesn't count. You can go more than once a day." "But WHY, Mommy?" etc.) Remember that worst case she can strip down and pee at the park. It's happened before.
4. Check the baby's diaper, preferably before you get to the garage since inevitably he will take a giant dump when you're all ready to go. Change as needed.
5. Make sure you have the proper beverage and snack selection for the two year old (fresh milk, water and pretzels). Heaven help you if you forget one of these items.
6. Remind the two year old as she's piling a mountain of toys next to the garage door that she can only bring one toy on a walk. STAY STRONG if this is met with resistance. Praise her if she rolls with it.
7. Reassure the dog that you are, in fact, still going. Remind yourself of that, too.
8. Take 4 seconds to yourself and pee and get fresh water. Or GO NUTS and get yourself a granola bar that the two year old will undoubtedly eat half of. Bonus points if you're answering toddler questions and/or holding your giant baby.
9. Locate keys and phone.
10. Start moving all parties outside.
11. Strap the baby in.
12. Realize you've forgotten toys for him and run back inside while making dire threats to the two year old about going in the street. Yell for the dog, who is already trotting off.
13. Return with toys.
14. Negotiate with the two year old to get in the stroller. Realize she's wearing your high heels for shoes. Decide you don't care.
15. Now you must go back inside for actual park shoes ("And socks, MOMMY. I don't want a booboo."). Repeat same threats from above and yell for the dog again, who is now in a different neighbor's yard.
16. Chug your water because you're already tired.
17. With two little bodies successfully in the stroller (but not strapped in--"MOMMY I NO WANNA STRAP INNNNNN"), grab the dog's leash. He has sniffed all of his favorite yards and has returned to wait for you, bored and impatient.
18. Start your walk and enjoy. These are the days, after all.

Note the shoes

Sullivan likes snacks, too

Seriously, Mom? We still haven't left yet?

Moments before take-off

just for funsies

 Throwback Thursday

Sunset in the Serengeti from 2012

2.5 and 6 months

Just so I remember...

Lillian at 2.5  full of life; talks non-stop; remembers everything; loves school and especially her teacher Miss Angela; loves her baby brother sometimes sweetly and sometimes aggressively; loves her "munity group" friends; dislikes sleeping or being still; finally loves toys (esp. blocks, stuffed animals and "hard Minnie") and always wants to share with mommy and daddy; has just started playing independently for short periods Praise the Lord; loves to "run FAST" and "jump HIGH" with daddy; loves all of her grandparents and talks about them constantly; only takes showers; can actually be helpful; loves to play outside; loves pretending to read but doesn't like being read to (SOB); eats pretty well but would live on pretzels if we'd let her; always wants to do fun things "o-gin"; alternates between telling us that Daniel Tiger isn't real and saying things like "tiger-tastic"; can climb pretty much everything at the park; loves going to the grocery store and the 'quarium; changes clothes constantly; loves to wear stripes; loves to make people laugh; sings often; and is generally the joyful and compassionate little girl we have always prayed for

Elliott at 6 months roller extraordinaire; lover of food--to the tune of 12-16 cubes of baby food PER DAY plus nursing; unsuccessful crawler; purveyor of sweet smiles, shrieks and laughs; lover of big sister; grabber of everything (immediately into mouth, especially L's favorite hard Minnie); successful sitter with the occasional topple; willing stroller and car seat rider; inconsistent napper but doing much better at night; charmer of all; fabulous snuggler; wearer of 12-18 month clothing (did I mention that he loves to eat?); bearer of a beautiful smile and a terrific number of fat rolls; excitable yet content

It's a race!

I am so proud of Thomas for running in the "Rugged Maniac" race at Boone Hall this morning. The "rugged" bit refers to the obstacles the 5K course included, items such as barbed wire, trenches (but not like WWI), walls, tire throws, etc. If you look at the picture I have included, I think the "maniac" bit becomes self-explanatory.

He ran it with a few buddies from our community group-- by the way have I mentioned how much we LOVE our community group? They are definitely family to us. For instance, six of the (almost) 11 kids in our group were there to cheer on their parents and as I"m helping to corral various small ones, this guy sitting nearby says to me, "just how many children do you have?!" Yep, so we love these peeps and their kids. Also pictured with Thomas here is his longtime friend Tony, who looks a tad bit happier and jauntier than my man. They all had a blast though, and Thomas is psyched to run through freezing cold water and mud again next year! And I think that all of this has inspired me to start running again and I'm putting this in writing so that I can't chicken out.

Sleep, interrupted

Lest the title of my post deter you from reading further, let me assure that this post is not intended to whine about or "martyrize" my situation (my name for an ugly phenomenon in the mommy world in which mommies try to "one-up" each other about whose life is the hardest, or whose kids are the most difficult, etc. It's gross and I apologize for all the times I've taken part in that). RATHER, this post is intended to celebrate God's goodness and grace in the face of my weakness and selfishness.
Lillian has never been a great sleeper. In spite of our bedtime routines, our sound machines, our sleep sacks, our lavender diffuser, our sugar monitoring and about 50 other "tricks," she just has a hard time. We joke that she's ready for college because she not only survives but often thrives on much less sleep than most kids her age. As an infant, she much preferred being awake, long past the point of pleasantness, and we had to trick her into sleeping through a variety of jostling positions, swaddling, paci/thumb, etc. Honestly, it's a miracle we decided to have another kid. She dropped her morning nap at 13 months, earlier than pretty much all of her peers. I felt exceedingly sorry for myself ("God!" I cried, "I'm never going to have time for you again! Woe is me!"), and it took me a good month to pull it together and realize how much more flexibility this gave us during the day. Fitting in time with the Lord remains challenging, but He is faithful and I just have to seek it out actively instead of expecting it-- and if that isn't a life lesson, I don't know what is. She had several months of wonderful naps, especially while I was in my first trimester with Elliott and therefore so tired, which helped to make up for her early wake-ups. 90% of the time she would wake up between 5 and 6:30. Occasionally she'd sleep in all the way until 7. Her naps were superb though.
Then it happened.
One night in August (post E's birth on the 18th and pre her birthday on the 31st), Thomas and I + tiny Elliott had just turned out our lights around 10:30 and we heard a giant THUD from down the hall. I knew instantly what had happened, and the pitter patter of little feet + our door opening+ a sweet little voice shouting "I get out!" confirmed my worst fears. Lillian had jumped out of her crib, never to return. Thomas leaped out of bed to deal with the situation by putting her back in the crib, and of course she promptly jumped out again. So down the hall they went to Lillian's big girl bed, which we'd been planning on easing her into in October or November. HA. Apparently we'd forgotten who we were raising. After several hours, she finally fell asleep next to an exhausted and frustrated Thomas. Newborn haze + a newly freed Lillian= two very unhappy and tired parents.
As such, sleep times for the last six+ months have been challenging. Some nights it takes us two hours to get her to sleep. Some mornings are very early. Oftentimes Thomas has to sleep in there because otherwise she will just cry at the door until someone comes back (for hours). So when Lillian started exhibiting signs of being done with naptime in November, I pretty much lost it. Journal entries from that month are pretty melodramatic--"I cannot survive without Lillian's naptime"--and I was absolutely sure that I could not.
But God.
In January her afternoon naps ended. Because of Elliott, I didn't have an hour-plus (the amount of time it took on average to get her down) to spend solo in her room. I was completely stressed out about sleep; bedtimes were nightmarishly long; and thus finally Thomas and I decided together that we'd move up her bedtime and give a napless schedule a try. And guess what? We survived! She still refuses to do any sort of rest time by herself in her room (for my little extrovert, being shut in her room by herself is akin to torture), but most days I settle her down with some PBS Kids on the iPad so I can take time to read or journal or whatever. Is it ideal? Nope, but it's a season and we are working through it. Life has gone on, and I have found some marvelous benefits for our now wide-open days. We get to spend more time with some of her little friends. We get out more in general. We get some good mommy-daughter time when E naps. Thomas and I have more time in the evening together because she now goes to bed extremely early. Some days she's so tired that she falls asleep in the car or the stroller and naps in the garage (rare but wonderful!).
Basically God has completely redeemed a situation that I didn't think I could handle. Some days are tough and I'm pretty much loony tunes by the time Thomas comes home, but those days are a great time to remember that his mercies are new every morning. His grace is sufficient to cover my weaknesses and sins, as well as my daughter's.
And on a lighter note, as a good friend who also has a sleep-challenged child told me: "Presidents don't sleep much either. Maybe she's going to be the President."

Elliott's arrival

So, a dear friend very sweetly and tactfully reminded me this weekend that I never typed up Elliott's birth story. It's not that I had forgotten, but those moments when I've felt like writing have been few and far between. It's not that I couldn't scrape up some time to blog, it's more that I have prioritized goofing off with Thomas at night, sleeping, or watching TV. But, I do want to have a record of his birth for him to read some day, and as a testimony of God's ongoing grace in my life.

Since it has been over six months, some of the minutiae have been lost. So this account will fall somewhere between the barrage of detail from Lillian's birth (3 LONG posts) and the statement, "I went to the hospital and had a baby in the middle of the night and it was empowering and painful and awesome and miraculous."

It was the week before Elliott's due date. He was due Thursday, August 22nd, the day after my 28th birthday. Since L was born a few days early and because I didn't particularly want to share my birthday (selfish, I know),  I was really counting on him coming a little early. Throw in a wild almost two year old and August heat, and you can imagine how excited I was to give birth. At my doctor's appointment on Thursday, August 15th, I was finally starting to show some signs of real progress and that night I experienced a pretty intense round of contractions that petered out around midnight. I was disappointed, but I'd visualized the 18th as his birthday for my whole pregnancy for a couple of reasons (the symmetry of the numbers and the fact that I would be 39 w 3d, same as Lillian), so I wasn't overly surprised. For the next couple of days we hit the "let's get the baby out" regimen pretty hard. Ahem. I won't go into all the detail but we had some delightful walks on the beach, a fun meal at a taco place on Sullivan's Island, and enjoyed a Saturday morning at the aquarium. By Saturday afternoon, my contractions had picked up significantly and we had to call my parents about 45 minutes after they had dropped Lillian off at our house to come back and get her so we could head to the hospital. It was much calmer than when we went to the hospital with Lillian--we both showered, finished a few last minute things, kissed our baby girl (I wasn't even teary!) and rolled out. I was contracting every 5-10 minutes at this point.
We checked in at the hospital around 6:30 pm, right before a shift change and they confirmed that I was 5 centimeters dilated and we would indeed be staying to have a baby. It was go time; our son was on his way! We called Thomas' parents at this point and told them to hit the road. They arrived a couple of hours later and graciously swapped Lillian duty with my parents so that they could be at the hospital when little man arrived. Best laid plans and all...
Well, just like last time, I progressed a little more in the first couple hours and then progress. just. stopped. My doctor's pronouncements of "I'll break your water if necessary" and "let's wait on the Pitocin" quickly turned into realities. However, between 10:30 and 1:30 or so, I enjoyed some remarkably peaceful time with just the Lord, Elliott and me. I couldn't focus to read, but I listened to most of Luke as I drifted in and out of consciousness.IBy 1:30 I was at the maximum dose of Pitocin and I was in a world of pain. The contractions were so intense and so close together such that it was hard to recover between them. Coupled with the fact that we had not prepared at all for natural childbirth and thus a) I had no idea how to breathe and b) Thomas had no idea how to coach me had me begging for the epidural by 2 am. I was nearly fully dilated by this point but seriously had no idea where I would find the energy to push. I found myself thinking of the cultures and historical periods where/when women have no access to pain medication, and I said some very fervent prayers of thanks while marveling at the fact that the human race goes on and that people ever have sex again. Ha. My parents had gone home to sleep at some point and I think we called them to come back now.
My epidural went in around 2:45--naturally it was the same anesthesiologist that I had last time but he did a much better job this time--d I was SO DANG GRATEFUL for the cessation of pain that I'm sure I said some crazy things to him. Nurse Lani (loved her! She was so encouraging and supportive of all the time I spent laboring naturally) checked me at 3 and it was go time. Thomas and I were ready to meet him!
Elliott William slid out at 3:38 am with a full head of hair and healthy lungs. His first act in this world was to poop everywhere--all over me, the nurse and my doctor. Dr. Bullen said that she had never seen a baby poop so much so quickly. I felt proud, then felt weird for being proud of that. Perhaps this is a piece of the "boy mom" mentality I will be learning? They gave him to me to nurse immediately, which he did, and then weighed him. 7 pounds, 13 ounces post-poop, though the nurses were convinced he would have been 8+ had he been weighed before "the incident."
The miracle of Elliott's birth was just as intensely wonderful as Lillian's, and even with the pain, I marveled at the fact that the Lord includes us in this way. Our bodies are capable of so much, and the Lord is so faithful.

The "I know I'll want a record of this but I know I look awful" face

Newborn squish face

My husband is so talented!

Big sister--we sought to appease her as much as possible which is why she is shirtless in this picture

Singing happy birthday to her little brother

I still cram his giant head into this hat because I love it so much