One day, I decided to teach myself a little bit of embroidery. I found this skirt in the clearance section for $13 at Target. I liked the color, but it was a little plain:
Then, I visited a few online embroidery websites, and taught myself three basic stitches: the lazy daisy, the running stitch, and the french knot. What I ended up with, was this...
Ruth is quite the chatterbox. She looks you in the eye, points and gestures, and even laughs at things she thinks are silly or jokes. I can't understand a word she's saying, but she is saying words that resemble other words, like "Hi!" and "baby" and "daddy." Her favorite almost-word is something that resembles "that," only the "th" is more like a "d" and the "t" at the end is more like an "s". "Dhats," is more like it, if I'd have to spell it.
She's also almost jumping... as in, she does occasionally launch herself off the ground. Always a climber, I find her on the kitchen table and ambitiously exploring new territories. I have a feeling that the talking and jumping will come at the same time, and we'll have our hands even more full than they are already.
We've decided that Tapeworm (as we've affectionately called him) will be named Lucas. Middle names are up for grabs. Steve has always wanted to name one of his future sons Lucas, and we figured that since you never know what's going to be thrown at you, we might as well name this one Lucas. It's funny how less opinionated I am about naming the second child than I was the first, at least, I feel more at ease letting Steve "get" the name. Perhaps I'll be picky with the third, I don't know! Maybe I have too much else to care about!
I do believe that names are important, but I'm not going to wrench myself over what to name our children. We'll go for nice names that we like, and that's that.
Remaining before my self-imposed maternity leave: 3 weddings, 2 engagement portraits, 1 family session, and 1 glamor/girly session. It's a lot of work, but I'm grateful to be over the halfway point of my weddings season. I still have a lot of photo editing to do, as well as marketing and planning for next year, but I think that will have to wait until my "leave" starts. The winter will be a good time to get myself together and prep for an amazing 2010 season. Inquiries are up for me now, and I've been asked to quote three different destination weddings (never been asked before!).
We have a lot to do before we move; please cover it in prayer for us.
So I've finally posted a gallery of photos from May that were taken on the Lloyds' visit to our place on Memorial Day weekend--just a few vingettes of Ruthie being amazingly cute, and Liana being beautiful, and Nathan being playful.
A short list of things Ruthie says:
She's getting to be quite the babble-talker, always having something to say. Usually, it involves asking for Papa (Steve's dad).
Example: "Papa, oosh, wisghdafywehfdahfwhgehfea, papa," coupled by an emphatic nod of some sort.
Lucas Mathewes arrived, scheduled but suddenly, on August 27th at 1:52 PM. 7lbs, 8oz, and 22 inches long. A hefty, healthy boy, with a full head of dark hair, and dark navy eyes.
Late pregnancy tired me out; I had been uncomfortable for weeks. Between trips to the bathroom and kicks to the ribs, I was up at all hours. A few days prior to my due date (the 22nd), I had a rough night of contractions that had me thinking, "This is it!" Steve timed them--they were strong.
Well, it was a total fakeout. The next day, the doctor checked me; 4cm dilated. "How are we not having this baby?" Steve kept asking me. I'd shrug, and keep drinking raspberry tea and going on long walks to try to get labor started.
The next week, I was almost 5cm dilated. When the doctor said she'd be happy to break my water, I was surprised when Steve and I looked at each other, and said, "Yes." Lucas was already big (I could tell), and since labor tends to go more quickly the second time around, we didn't want to end up having a kid in the backseat of a car. The doctor scheduled us for August 27th.
Thursday the 27th came. Our bags had been packed and prepared for the hospital for weeks now; we were ready. Frederica (Mamou), Stephen and I got up early and drove to the hospital. Aunt Megan and Fr. Gregory (Papa) watched Ruthie, and waited for news.
At the hospital, all our waiting was compounded and exacerbated by paperwork and procedures--very anti-climactic. I was itching to get going. I paced in my gown and socks. Steve seemed to twitch, and I felt badly that Frederica had gotten up so early to be with us and there wasn't much going on.
But then the doctor came in. I was nervous, and unsure of what to expect. I knew that once my water broke, it could mean complications. It meant I wasn't going to leave the hospital for awhile. It meant that, one way or another, I would have a baby boy in my arms at last.
And I did--I held him that afternoon. The doctor broke my water at 10:30, and let me walk the hallways. Each contraction was markedly more intense than the last. After an hour or so of walking and leaning on Steve, trying to hold conversation between contractions with Frederica, I gave up and got onto the bed. I lay down, I tossed, I hung over the edge. The pain was so much more intense than what I remembered; upon reflection it was a blessing to have had Ruth in the middle of the night, and have sleep-deprivation and passing out to dull the experience a bit.
I was wide awake, wildly aware. "I wanna die," I said. "I don't know if I can do it," I said. The doctor checked me--7cm dilated. "REALLY?" I said, astonished. In a flash, I thought, "I could ask for the drugs," but then the moment was gone in a sea of even more intense contractions and downward motion. In mere minutes, it felt, I was ready to push.
And push I did. For a half hour, I pushed. I strained. I struggled to feel the right muscles and make use of each contraction. I was losing steam and feeling defeated. Frederica and Stephen held my hands, encouraging me, helping me to breathe, making me try anew. The sooner I got this baby out, the sooner everything would be over and I'd feel that relief and happiness of The End of something that is also A Beginning.
That was Lucas' beginning. He arrived at 1:52, squalling. "He's here?" I said, with disbelief. I could still feel the contractions of afterbirth and felt twinges from a 3rd degree tear, but enjoyed the heavenly falling-in-love moments with him on my chest in the midst of the pain. I smiled, I relaxed. I looked at Steve and Frederica and my newborn son, freshly arrived. It was done.
Big sister visited the next day; disoriented and curious, Ruth looked wide-eyed around the room at the strange furniture. Thrilled to see me, she leaped into my arms and gave me a big hug. Then, she noticed Mamou holding Lucas, and started pointing out all his features--eyes, nose, ears--with an excited squeak.
And here we are now, a family of four. A new personality creates a new dynamic for us to learn and enjoy. I'm sure we'll have our share of frustration from time to time, but meanwhile the new addition to the family has made quite a splash.
Welcome, Lucas Alexander. You are loved!
A little over four weeks ago, I flew with my two-week old son to meet Stephen in our new apartment. A new beginning, with new faces to meet and new opportunities to experience.
Although he had worked long and hard to unpack as much as he could, boxes still sat waiting to be unpacked, and many piles lay waiting to be organized. Both of us went through emotional highs and lows as we slowly settled in. Steve's schedule demanded much of his time, so many days I was left to manage the kids and try to make some semblance of progress. There were a few nights where I went to bed with a smile on my face, happy with the day's work. Those nights were balanced by others where I cried, because everything felt insurmountable.
But here we are. I hereby pronounce us officially settled in. There are no stray boxes in the apartment, and what few projects remain are finishing touches, like curtains and shelves. The household is humming: laundry, dishes, and baths are taking place. I even made cookies from scratch the other day. And we're making friends.
Life is taking on its own rhythm, and I'm adapting to life with two little ones. Truly, the transition from no kids to one kid was its own odyssey; I felt run over by a truck, yanked into a world of sleep-deprived breastfeeding limbo. Moving from one to two feels like a juggling act performed in a sea of molasses; everything takes three times as long as I expect. My ambitions for each day have to be scaled back a great deal in order to jive with reality.
I've had a laundry list of moving-related things to take care of, and ticking each one off has proved immensely satisfying. The car has Massachusetts plates on it now, and I have my temporary license. Lucas' birth certificate is on its way. We've applied for state health benefits. I've found a pediatrician (my own, actually, from when I was a baby). Slowly but surely I feel my feet resting on solid ground.
Truly, it's a wonderful feeling to be settled in, yet I still feel an undercurrent of nervousness about our finances. Steve's student schedule is so rigorous he hasn't had time to work, let alone think about working. My glimpse of his demands is such that I can't imagine him ever working during the school year. Our hopes are for some seasonal work when the summer hits.
As for me, well, the sudden move to Massachusetts threw a wrench in my photography business; travel plans and profit margins for my October portrait marathon in Baltimore have been completely whacked out. I'm hoping to break even, and wishing even more for an influx of business and bookings. Some form of part-time employment may be in my near future, to keep us afloat.
In spite of that looming obstacle, we're surviving. Monetary gifts and blessings have come our way from unexpected and familiar places, without which we would sink into being completely broke. (Yet another item on my to-do list: writing thank-yous.)
The short of it is that God is good; it seems as though we're truly meant to be here. The adjustment has been infinitely easier with my parents close by. Grandma has come to the rescue more times than I can count now, and Ruth has a few new games she's invented with Grandpa. It's a beauty and a marvel at how everything has come full circle, as I watch Ruth explore my childhood home, and my parents re-live their experiences raising children.
I can't wait to see what else is in store for us.
I leave for Baltimore today.
It's going to be strange, returning to the home-that-is-no-longer-my-home. I'm nervous, mostly about leaving my kids for so very long. I won't see Ruth until we meet in Austin, and Lucas will be away from me for large stretches of the days ahead. I know it's partly my control-freak tendencies, but also the part of me that wants to cling to something secure and familiar.
People do this all the time, I keep telling myself.
It's still strange to be caught between worlds. Hopping across the country as though the boundaries and miles didn't matter is simultaneously reassuring and disconcerting.
But before I embark on my journey, I wanted to share a few highlights. First, Stephen singing at St. George's in Norwood, MA, with a crowd of other seminarians. Ruth shared books with Lucia, a fellow toddler.
Secondly, an example of Ruth miming what mommy does with a phone and a baby.
And last, an unsuspecting victim.
I'm back from Texas, and have been for awhile now. I had the strange feeling upon returning home, that I wasn't truly "home," but merely on another leg of my travels. It's taken a week or so of normal life--laundry, dishes, diapers--to shake that feeling, and find contentment in being settled until we visit Baltimore for Christmas.
We're settled, but not completely. I have mounting anxieties about our finances, about employment, about the loose strings that moving has created. I won't go into the complicated details, but applying for food stamps and state health benefits has turned into a game of setting up dominoes in just the right positions so that one falls right after another. It feels as though there are 27 steps for each document I need to prove that we are who we say we are, live where we say we live, and need what we say we need.
Experiencing a New England autumn again has made up for this, however. Crisp air and that familiar temperate forest smell evoke powerful childhood memories for me. I'm remembering what it means to layer clothing, and discovering that my wardrobe is sorely lacking in chilly New England essentials. I curse Baltimore for making me a weather wuss.
The kids are very healthy (at the moment), and lucky for us, the dreaded H1N1 vaccine shortage won't hit home; Ruth has had her first dose, while Steve and I will get ours this week. It's nice to have a toddler whose nose I don't need to wipe every ten minutes, and a baby breathing easy and phlegm-free.
Thanksgiving is nigh upon us; Steve's parents will be up for a visit to get their hit of Ruthie's energy and Lucas' baby smiles. Both my brothers will return to Natick, and we will gather around the table like old times, and perhaps even say the family grace with gusto:
God is great, God is good
and we thank him for our food.
By his hands we are fed
we thank him for our daily bread.
Rub-a-dub-dub, thanks for the grub!
Yay, God!
(Mom always tried to make us drop that last bit.)
...
(See my October family photos, too!)
We're in the home stretch, folks.
It's finals week! We just finished hosting Ruth's birthday party. I'm in the midst of finishing up a few freelance projects, taking care of the kids while Steve studies his brains out (a very messy process indeed).
At the end of the week, we'll head down to Baltimore to visit family and friends, as well as to triple-dunk Lucas in some holy water. We've been meaning to do that for awhile now, so, you know, he can be baptized and all.
So, not too much in the way of reflection or other news, except that of the glee and happiness I'm experiencing after having put both kids to bed at the same time. I wonder if it will ever happen again.
A mother can dream.
We've made it.
Through the snow, through a stay in an overpriced hotel, and through a night where congested kids coughed themselves to sleep.
But we're here. It's Christmas. It's time to relax! I'm with our family, and it's wonderful.
Ruth can count up to ten. She also knows the colors red and purple. She really, REALLY wants to be a big girl so badly; the other little girls in the building are worshiped on a daily basis.
Lucas can fall asleep on his own. Most nights, he stays in his swing, and wakes once or twice a night.
Eventually, Ruth will be in a big girl bed, and Lucas in the next room.
Time is flying by.
It's been pretty silent on the blog, which nearly always indicates a flurry of activity. Our summer has been full--so full, in fact, that we haven't gotten to do nearly close to everything we had hoped.
I feel a growing sense of urgency about my interactions with friends and family here; we don't have much longer together. While our lives have been so mundanely intertwined, it's a fragile and temporary blessing that I'm soon to miss all too terribly.
Overall, the wedding season has been well-paced, but at times overwhelming. I've learned quite a few new tricks, gained a few insights into next steps I should take about my equipment, skills, and business. I feel happy to be shooting more weddings, but also more contented with my role in the world as a "mere" part-timer.
Right now, the little ones and the family are the most important thing, and the business--while fulfilling and exciting--simply has to be secondary. It's way too easy to look around and get caught up in false and distracting competition.
Well, now that the children are fast asleep, I'd better catch some rest myself; I've got a wedding to finish editing tomorrow!
I promised Ruth that we'd go to the playground. We took a potty break, got suited up, and ready to go, only to discover that part of the stroller buckle was mysteriously missing. When running back to the house, and Ruth fell and skinned her knees. It was QUITE a piece of drama. She didn't want to be cleaned up; she seemed more upset about not going to the playground than about getting a scrape.
After cleaning her up, trying to find the buckle, and failing, I simply put her in the stroller, instructed her not to get out, and off we went to the playground. We weren't halfway there when I looked down and saw her slumping forward. It was 6:30, and she had fallen completely asleep. Afraid that she would fall out of the stroller, I took her, wheelbarrow-style, the whole way back.
And she's been asleep ever since. It's 9pm.
...
Mamou volunteered to take over nighttime duty with Lucas last night--a huge undertaking. We've been puzzled for some time as to why he wakes so often at night: is he truly hungry? does he just want momma? is it pain?
Well, the report this morning gave us quite a bit of information. He drank NINE ounces last night. NINE. The kid is hungry. That's almost as much as what a newborn would drink during the night. Not to mention a light sleeper (but we knew that already).
So, then plan: bottle-feeding at night, slowly diluting the formula down until it's only water. It's been over a year since I've had a full night's rest, and hopefully this will help speed the process of night weaning up a bit.
...
Waking up this morning after a full night's rest was almost like waking up on Christmas Day. Or, waking up on the first day of summer vacation. Or, the feeling you get after you've had a nice, long afternoon nap, but wake at just the right time.
...
My dedicated helper, Margaret, left today. I miss that extra pair of hands while my husband is away.
