Mamamama Mamamama

It happened.  Tonight.  She said my name.  Well, one of them.  Sweet little Ellie’s been working on her “m” for a week or two now, but tonight she looked at me and said “Mamamama” and then buried her face in my shoulder, her sweet, shy gesture, when I gushed over her in delight. She did it again and again, all throughout the night.

After I snuggled her to sleep, I stood in the kitchen, slicing mozzarella and chopping basil to freshen up the leftovers I was nuking in the microwave.  No one else was there, but I stood beaming ear to ear, thinking about the sound of her little voice saying my name.  On any given day, a lot of people say my name: friends, family members who know my childhood nicknames, the telemarketers who call our house, my husband, who knows how to melt my heart with the sweet names he calls me.

But there was something about this little voice, just now learning how to articulate the sounds produced by her very breath wafting over her little vocal chords, those same vocal chords that developed while she was growing inside my own body, and the fact that she used those first sounds to say my name.  And it hit me, as it usually does, like a ton of bricks. How must our Creator, God, feel when His children – those He made in His image, with a heart full of love and creative design, speak His name – on purpose, because He is the center of our lives, the source of our existence, the one who cares and provides for us daily.  And when Scripture says “The heavens declare the glory of God, the skies proclaim the work of His hands,” could it mean that He has been whispering to us “Mamamama,” as I have to Ellie, longing to hear her say my name? And does His heart just break that some of those He’s created never speak his name at all?

I’m thankful for the quiet in my home tonight, and the opportunity to soak this all in, and to whisper, “Abba, Father,” knowing He delights in the sound of this little voice calling His name with all the love I have to muster.

On Doll Houses & Real Houses

I’ve only purchased a few items via Craigslist: my glider, our stroller, and this doll house.  We got it for Laura (and eventually Ellie) this Christmas, from the sweetest lady.  She lived well over an hour away, but met us minutes from our house during a snow storm.  She mailed us extra furniture she came across. It’s been a feast for Laura’s imagination, and she plays with it daily.  Along with these sweet wooden dolls, several other playmates inhabit the house: figurines, stuffed animals, anything that can squeeze through that little front door.

Little did I know, that night when I stayed up well past 4am re-wallpapering and sanding, that in a matter of weeks we would be looking for our first home, and eventually settle on one not unlike the little Victorian Laura’s playthings live in.  We’ve embarked on the, how shall I say,  adventure of purchasing a short sale, and this week we heard that things are moving in the right direction.  Still, I like to say we’re cautiously hopeful.

It can seem like a big deal, a house.  And in some ways it is.  I have moments of total meltdown where I wonder what we’re doing, and if this decision falls into line with the goals and dreams that have fueled our marriage, and my sense of identity. Thankfully, Ted’s usually able to keep his cool during these glorious rants, and we grow through the process. (I  like to think I do the same for him, too.)  So today, with all the unknowns and questions, I’m comforted by the companionship I have on the journey and I’m challenged to remember where my real identity and home is found.  And instantly I’m at home.

Summer, We Miss You.

Laura and I threw an all out, dress-up, fine-china, tea party to help us survive the winter blues and blizzard this weekend.  I let her pick everything: the tablecloth (a Kenyan print from Ted’s grandparents), the napkins (white lace), and the tea sets (one tin, one china, one stoneware) and the menu (apple slices, cheese, pretzels and tea). It was quite the event.  I forgot to snap any photos, but these little umbrellas are still hanging around.  They had been table decor, but after an impromptu game of hide and seek, they landed here.  Can you guess which one was Laura’s & which was mine? (Hint, they’re our favorite colors, respectively!)

Blizzards & Banana Bread

Day number two of snow, snow, snow! This morning Laura and I made Grandmama’s banana bread. We’ve made it so much this winter, that she knows the recipe almost by heart. She works right beside me on her trusty big girl stool, shown here next to the remains of an egg that someone (who shall remain nameless) rolled off the counter – oops! When my mom bakes, her kitchen is a well oiled machine.  She can be smack in the middle of 30 dozen cookies (which she did in her spare time Thursday) and her kitchen is cleaner in the middle of that than mine is after I’ve finished scrubbing it for hours (which I did… oh, wait – never).  I, however, create such a crazy whirlwind of chaos around me (in my kitchen, when I’m cooking, that is) that my husband thinks the aftermath could be an art form.

We saved one loaf for our family, and decided to spontaneously serve the other to our neighbors, as a treat when they came in from the great car shuffle at noon, when our apartment’s parking lot gets plowed.  Hope you’re warm and cozy this February night.

Wine Crates, Repurposed

Our little abode is quite a hodge-podge, almost equal parts Ikea and garage sale vintage treasures. One of my favorite little finds is an incredibly sturdy wine crate we found just before our wedding, as we were on the hunt for items to fill our first apartment. It’s held lots of different collections and served several functions, but right now it’s part side table, part shelf.If you have  an affinity for wine crates, check out the collection that Grace from Poetic Home put together last spring.  The inspiration she shared on repurposing wine crates, along with the many other tastefully selected treasures she highlights on her site, has made it one of my favorites.  Here’s a few more inspiring ideas to get your creative engines running!{a} Through Poetic Home, I stumbled upon this image, one of many lovely photographs of the home of Tracy and Michelle (by The Selby)

{b} Design Sponge offers a fun tutorial on creating a display case from your wine crate.

{c} Delightful Rachel, from Heart of Light, created these lovely little outdoor planters using wine crates.

With Thanks

I snapped this photo while little Ellie-bean was sitting pretty in the morning sun, surrounded, no doubt, by the slew of baby toys her helpful sister saw fit to arrange meticulously around her.  She started to crawl this week, as in move forward, intentionally, even occasionally lifting her belly off the ground. These last eight months have flown by.  I remember telling my husband, just before Christmas, that it was all down hill from here: that six months was the ideal baby age – blissfully immobile but fully engaged with smiles and coos.  No tantrums, all cuddles.  But I think I feel that about each stage (tantrums and all), that each moment we’re in is the sweetest, and that I don’t want to give it up, only to be surprised at the new joys around the corner.

We’ll be moving in a few months.  Ted started a new job this week, our normal routines have been thrown to the wind, and we’re in the middle of the complex chaos and waiting game of attempting to purchase a short sale. So many of the things that have been constants during the formative years of our life together are changing. But somehow, the simplicity and contentedness of little Ellie’s sweet presence has reminded me today that I have a lot to be grateful for.

I’m thankful for these sweet girls.

I’m thankful for a husband who shares his heart with me freely and loves me deeply.

I’m thankful for family & friends who love and encourage me, despite my many shortcomings.

I’m thankful that regardless of this house, I belong, and have found a home in Christ.

I’m thankful for the sunshine pouring in my windows, and that my girls took naps today.

I know it’s easier to be thankful in some situations, or seasons, than in others, but I want to encourage you today to embrace a posture of thankfulness.  It’s like a good sugar scrub for your heart: exfoliating the grime and sweetening up your perspective. So, tell me, what are you thankful for?

Breakfast of [very sensible] Champions

Funny little story today… We live on the late side of life at our house.  (Those of you who know me are either rolling your eyes or laughing, depending on where you fall on the early to late continuum.) So, when my girls roll out of their little beds around 9:30 (don’t be too jealous, we pay for it with our late nights…), I usually have a simple breakfast ready: toast or cereal, some fruit, maybe some previously made & frozen waffles, if they’re lucky.  But recently, I gave my ever increasingly opinionated three year old an open ended “What would you like for breakfast?” … just for fun!

I was ready for her best shot: candy hearts with hot chocolate, leftover apple cake, pizza. I wanted to see what her little imagination could dream up.  She thought for a minute, and with all the seriousness someone in pigtails can muster said, “I think I’ll have something that won’t make a mess and that has lots of fiber.” All I can say, is that she most certainly did not get that good sense from me!

We’ve have, however, had lots of talk of fiber lately, as we’ve been pureeing plenty of mangoes for her baby sister’s, how shall we say, irregularities? (Better than prunes, according to our pediatrician!) But, you never realize how much they pick up on and incorporate into their little brains, until these little gems pop out, just when you least expect it.

Here’s a shot of our favorite way to slice a Mango – cut lengthwise, sliced into a grid, and popped inside out. Yum!

Poetry & Pictures

As a little girl, poetry rolled off my mother’s tongue and spilled into our lives, making mundane moments ethereal. I’m thinking I like my peas with honey, among other things. I’m so pleased to bring a new feature to the blog today, one that stems from this love of poetry and will be returning each month for your reading pleasure! I recently learned that a very talented friend resolved in 2010 to write a poem each month.  (I so often think that loathing the task is a prerequisite of a New Year’s resolution, but this is pure delight!)  I’m so thrilled that she’s letting me publish them here!  Hope you have a moment today to make a cup of tea, find some sunlight, and soak in Molly’s lovely poems – one for January, and one for February, accompanied here by a photograph courtesy of another gifted friend, Janeen Messner of J. Singer Messner Photography, and a little chickadee I sketched just for you! Happy Monday.

Little Farmer’s Delight

This is the mobile that started it all. I came across it at Crabtree & Evelyn, when Ted and I were in Enlgand on business the spring I was pregnant with Laura.  We didn’t know the baby’s gender, and this little mobile (suspended from the fan, with all it’s little beads and pins) became the inspiration that linked my childhood across the street from a dairy farm to our new nursery’s decor.

In our small home, the girls’ bedroom doubles as sleeping quarters and play room, so I’ve really tried to make it an inviting, fun, creative place to play and rest.  The baby crib was gifted to us by a family whose youngest had graduated to a Thomas bed. My mom and I sewed the gingham curtains together.

I painted four little animals on canvas with acrylic, and my parents found this tree, a (sadly, no longer available) Pottery Barn Kids wall sticker. (It helped me overcome my grief at not being able to paint – apartment rules.)

My dad built these cedar “shudders” to flank the large mural I created.  The little train was inspired by one of my husband’s favorite spots, the Moodna Viaduct.

The bright canopy from Ikea transformed Laura’s toddler bed into a royal sleeping chamber.

Our very talented, and dear, dear family friend Ruth quilted Laura’s gorgeous bedspread, with hand stitched Noah’s Ark animals on the large white squares.  Laura at play at her farm stand: at ten dollars, it was my garage sale bargain of the year.

Thanks for visiting.  Hope you’re inspired to be creative & play at your house this weekend!

A Lesson from Laura

I was driving with the girls this week, listening to the news to find out just how much snow was expected (a foot, it turns out), when a report came over the airwaves regarding an explosion at a gas plant in Connecticut.  As I reached for the dial I glanced in the rear view mirror, hoping to see Laura spaced out or tuned into to something other than the words streaming over the radio.   “What does it mean that two people were killed, Mommy?” Of course.

I try to be straight forward and simple in my answers about the tough things: honest, but age appropriate.  After a fairly simple explanation, only slightly complicated by 37 “Why, Mommy-ies” I asked if she wanted to pray for the families of the men who had died.  I often pray about things as they come up throughout my day, and recently I’ve been making it a practice to do so aloud, and inviting Laura to join me if she wants. It seems like a simple way to show her my faith lived out. And as she usually does, Laura said she wanted to pray with me, “but with just [me] talking.”  So I prayed a simple prayer, asking God to comfort the families of those men, and with amen, thought I had ended our little conversation.

“So what did God say?” Laura asked after a few seconds. It hit me like a ton of bricks.  All this time I’ve been praying with her, she expects that I am hearing answers back, that prayer is a two way street. And she was right! Scripture says that God’s Word, written throughout history, is living and active (Hebrews 4:12)- it applies to our little lives and questions and requests.  And it also says that Jesus’ sheep know His voice (John 10:4). Perhaps the question is if we’re listening.

That moment, those words, that brutal innocence, is exactly why when some of Jesus’ followers tried to prevent a bunch of kids from bothering their master teacher, he chided them:

But Jesus called the children to him and said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it” Luke 18.16-18

Perhaps the single, greatest gift of motherhood is the opportunity to see life through the eyes of your child.  For me, rediscovering faith, through Laura’s perspective has caused me to confront the places in my faith that have become routine or stale, instead of the beautiful, life giving relationship He offers. So today, I am praying, and I’m listening.  Thanks, kiddo.