I blame it on the toddler.

The lack of blogging over the past two months? Yeah, definitely putting that one on the baby's head. He's just so.stinkin'.cute. that I haven't been sparing any of the time he's awake to do projects on the computer.

Well, that's the truth most days, anyway. Sometimes his cuteness is somewhat shadowed by a bit of crankiness but I've just decided something : life is too short to have my son watch me spend it doing projects on the computer.

Wesley has turned into a sponge ever since his first birthday in July. He watches everything his dad and I do and repeats it. Warren and I are both very spontaneous people who thrive without a rigid routine and very little expectation on our days. Our son is polar opposite of us...hmmm...you did that on purpose, didn't you, God?! If Wesley watches one of us do something a certain way one time, that's.the.way.it's.done.every.time.period. I'm talking about every detail. For instance, when he wakes up in the morning I usually go in the living room, flip on the overhead light and go in each corner and turn on the lamps. There's no window in our living room/kitchen so I like to start the day out with a lot of light since there's no natural sunlight. I never knew I had this habit until little shadow-man began insisting that those three switches get turned every morning before absolutely anything else can happen.

Once several weeks ago Wesley wanted to take a bath. I told him he could but he had to shut the bathroom door before I would undress him because it was really cold in the hall. Now when I tell him it's time for a bath, he walks into the bathroom, turns around and shuts the door and proceeds to take his clothes off. It is very disturbing to him if I start undressing him before the door is shut.

When we vacuum, Wesley pushes the button to wind the cord back up. When we watch a movie, he has two pillows he positions on the floor in the exact same spot every time. When we wash the dishes he sits in a certain way on the counter to watch. When I sew he's in charge of putting the foot down on the machine. When it's time for bed he carries his milk under one arm, drags his blanket behind and has his binky in his mouth.

I've learned lately that our little Owen thrives knowing that some things are going to go the same way every time, and we are trying to let him do some things the "proper" way while still helping him learn to be flexible. If two unstructured parents live through parenting this very structured child, I'm sure we'll be the better for it!

But that brings me back to the computer issue. I don't know how long it's been since Wesley has really been observing us in order to understand so very many things like he does now. I do, however, know that tomorrow he's going to wake up and his all-curious eyes will search every expression, act, tone, and habit and he will copy it. I don't want his little mind to accept the worldview that being zoned into a computer or cell phone is the most important way to spend time.

So, I really am blaming the lack of blogging on the toddler.

Maybe he'll sleep an extra long time tomorrow and I can sneak back on here to share some of my insights, pictures and projects I've been working on lately. Until then, enjoy a little peek into my crazy-God-blessed life via a few pictures:

I got to go on a Colorado vacation with this outstanding man...

...who happens to be the king of dutch oven campfire cooking.

Thanks to having a wonderful husband and Daddy, we can't stay away from the barn for very long...we miss Warren too much!

Wesley's first "pony" is a borrowed donkey named Nacho. He's pretty proud to have a saddle his size, too.

Love riding with my boy.

Warren happens to be very talented at making Bible stories come to life!

Little shadow.

We've shared two years of married bliss. Can we have two hundred more?!!

Confessions of a (previously)idealistic mother

(A few thoughts I had written before Wesley's birthday in July)

A year ago today I had a belly the size of a basketball, swollen feet, a perfectly clean house, constant uninterrupted time with my husband, an intense aversion to the blazing hot weather and an ideal in my head of how the next year was going to go.

Today I have none of those things.

Now I have an almost one-year-old.

I knew motherhood would change me. At least I was told that. But looking back on the past year, I had no idea how much it would change me. The first day of this adventure was July 6th, 2012, the day our little guy was born. You see, I knew how the birth was going to go. I had heard dozens of birth stories from my female family members and they all went the same: water breaks before due-date, three to five hours of labor, a couple pushes and voila, baby is born. No meds. No intervention. Painful, yes, but relatively simple, right? Our son came after fifteen hours of hard labor with a posterior, asynclitic baby that was nine days overdue. The exhausting labor was followed by an emergency c-section when his heart rate dropped to 40 as he was finally crowning. When he was born, he had the cord around his neck and looped on his ankle so that every time he moved he was strangling himself.

Days after bringing our precious bundle home, I was confused by those sleep training books that make it sound all easy to let your baby CIO (cry it out), resulting in an infant that sleeps thirteen hours a night by the time it's two months old. A year ago I was telling myself just to hold on for two months after the baby came and I could return to regular sleep. Tonight I'm going to bed early so I can survive the two times my eleven-month-old will wake me up tonight.

O, and that pesky baby weight that refuses to leave even with my greatest efforts? I thought this stuff was supposed to be simple. Natural. Easy. "Just keep nursing and the baby weight will melt off," my doctor told me. I don't think a nursing five-year-old is exactly what she was thinking.


God has this kind way of tearing down the expectations I put on myself so I can move a little further into grace. I wasn't the least bit prepared to be the woman hoping for a VBAC next time I get pregnant. I didn't think I would get caught being the mom who was still sleep deprived after almost a year. And heaven forbid that I wouldn't be able to kick my body into lose-the-baby-weight mode no matter how hard I tried.

I have a confession to make: dealing with the reality of these things is so much easier than living with the expectation of my own ideals. The desire to have it all together is stifling. I wasn't expecting my own ideals to be such a rigid taskmaster that would leave me feeling like a failure so many days this past year. 

In four days my bright-eyed, giggly little boy will turn one year old. I'm sure he'll wake up on his birthday with as much spunk and excitement for life as he does every day. He'll probably spend the first hour of his morning wrestling with his dad and bouncing all over me, then begging to "nore-nore" (nurse) with those completely heart-melting brown eyes looking so serious. When I get up with him on that day, I won't have time to sit and ponder my ideals of how parenting will go for the next year. I won't get to clean my house til it shines. I probably won't get a nap, an entire day alone with my husband or the luxury of putting my feet up to read that da-blame sleep training book. It's doubtful all my laundry will be done at the same time, I'll probably have dirty dishes in the sink and I may run out of diapers for the thousandth time. For heavens sake, I bet my baby will even eat some non-organic form of sugar before his birthday is up.

I can hear my own Mrs. Idealistic Pregnant Lady self a year ago gasping in disbelief.

Now? I'm way too busy enjoying every second of mothering a curious, alert, delightful little man covered in arena sand and remnants of lunch to care about that ideal stuff. 

Besides, who really needs sleep anyway?!

(Yawn...)

A year with Owen Wesley

We have been blessed beyond belief with an entire year of watching this little man grow. The pictures depict many of his character traits...giggly, ornery, curious, serious, happy, excited...what a delight he is! 

Happy Birthday, Owen Wesley!

10 months: the rest of the story

Thanks, God

Eleven months old!