No Awards for Me...

It has been an overwhelming past few days. One of those Seinfeld periods of time when nothing in particular happens except somehow you just can't turn away. Partly because of Zoloft withdrawal and partly because I'm a fool, I have been consumed by the gravity of what it means to be a Mom. Let me explain how I'm a fool.

Last week in Bible Study we were studying the Holiness of God, particularly the prophet Isaiah's reaction. Basically, Isaiah sees the holiness of God and is awestruck by it and his own finitude, saying "Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; for my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!" I commented to my small group that I'm not really undone by my shortcomings and, as a matter of fact, seem to relish them. Convicted that this is certainly sinful, I prayed to be undone by the Holiness of God and my own sin. Big mistake. Like praying for humility. What was I thinking? I quite enjoy believing everything is OK and I'm OK and I have relatively little need for redemption much less God. Ugh.

So God heard my prayer and I was undone. I realized that what has really been pissing me off these past couple of days is the simple fact that life ain't easy. Sure, this is a lesson I've learned umpteen times before. You would think that spending three months in the hospital would've gotten me used to the idea. So I've been ticked off that I'm not getting my way. That there is this little person who is so stinkin' needy all of the time. That I'll have just arrived at the good part of the book and then all of the sudden he wakes up from his nap and wants to be fed. Or I'll have just sat down to eat and he'll poop. Or finished cutting out my fabric and finally be ready to sew and he'll have turned himself over and be angry or laying in a puddle of spit up. I think it has finally clicked that Henry can't help being selfish, that he is supposed to be calling out to me, and that I am not the baby anymore. To make matters worse the mere admission of this puts to death my dreams of the kind of mom I've always imagined I'd be. The kind of Mom who bakes brownies and puts little notes in your lunch box and packs you two puddings so you have an extra to trade, who is skinny with perfect hair and a ruffled, polka dotted apron. Sort of a modern Donna Reed with a dash of Claire Huxtable. But as a mother, I feel a bit more like the father from the Berenstein bears. Constantly falling in the mud, saying, "So now you see how not to do it..."

But things are starting to change. This morning in church something clicked. We were singing the hymn "It is Well With My Soul" and in one of the verses it says "My sin, not in part but the whole, Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more." And I thought, okay, so I'm not going to be nominated for any mother of the year awards. Why am I still bearing this burden? Get over yourself. God is not going to let you screw Henry up past the point of no return. In fact, God seems to think you're the perfect Mommy for Henry. It's a bit like I've faced my finitude, been undone, and then put back together again by the fact that it is God's job to fix me, not mine. But I do so love to be in control. And I do so want to be a good Mom.

Growing up, my dad always told me that "if something is worth doing, it is worth doing well". In college, I had a professor who told me that "the best is the enemy of the good." And then in grad school, I had a teacher, Henry Simmons, who said, "Some things are so worth doing, they are worth doing poorly." At different times in my life each saying has held merit, but I think in the grand scheme of things, Henry is right. We can't be great at everything, but that shouldn't stop us from living and loving and falling on our face now and again because in the end, we are loved far more than we know, and fear should hold no place in the Christian's life.

So I am going to just love my son. I'm not going to worry that I put him in his swing a little too much. He likes his swing. I'm not going to fret that sometimes he eats less than the books say he should--the boy has so many rolls his wrists have cleavage! In fact, I think I'm going to stop reading the books all together. (Although I do reserve the right to Google things.) I'm not going to loose sleep over the fact that this afternoon I couldn't turn my son's face away from the Television set as he watched the show Las Vegas.

Bears, Beets, Battlestar Galactica

So Henry has developed a sense of humor. He used to just laugh whenever we tickled him, but it is as if he has now discovered some things are funnier than others and it is a hoot to make him cackle. For starters, he has discovered he has feet and that his toes are funny. He has yet to put them in his mouth, but enjoys playing this little piggy with himself. He has also learned to remove the pee-pee teepee protective wipee when I change his diaper and he thinks this is funny. Mommy does not. Especially when her son pees on her early in the morning when she is trying to not really wake up as she feeds and changes him. I didn't even notice he peed on me until he started laughing. That day he also spit up all over me. Big time. Right after I'd showered and gotten dressed. And once I cleaned him off, I looked down at myself, at my newly ironed pants that were spackled with regurgitated formula and he started laughing again. Ugh.

He also enjoys the show "The Office." Whenever we quote it to him, he laughs. When I say, "Bears, Beets, Battlestar Galactica" he laughs so much he starts coughing and spitting. It's hilarious. So now I am saying "Bears, Beets, Battlestar Galactica" all of the time.

He also had his first bowl of rice cereal this week. I use the term "bowl" loosely as I mainly just shoveled the same spoonful back in his mouth over and over again. This also made him laugh. He was just goopy and giggly, unsure of why Mommy kept sticking that thing in his mouth and what was she expecting him to do with his tongue anyhow? But it is obvious that he hasn't missed too many meals as he's become quite the chubby bunny. He now weighs 17 lbs, 4 oz. That is a lot when you are lugging that up three flights of stairs in a car seat with groceries.

This week, I also have begun trying to wean myself off of my post-partum happy pills. Big mistake. Sloan was in New Jersey overnight and a glimpse of single momdom through me for a loop. That was the night before he peed on me, then pooped on me, then threw up on me all in one day. That day was only topped by the next morning when the brand new tub of Tide I'd bought at Costco fell off of our dryer and exploded all over our guest bathroom floor, oozing everywhere, even leaking into the condo below ours. Awesome. Our once adorable hot pink bath mats were suddenly black with detergent. We threw them away and I now can't find any the same color. And of course I didn't even notice the detergent everywhere until after I'd stepped in it. In bare feet. Desperately needing to pee. Sloan just started laughing at me and I'm trying not to wet me pants, and cry, but I know I can't traipse the detergent on our hallway carpet and the toilet in the guest room is clogged. So Sloan wiped my feet off with baby wipes and I finally collapsed on our bed screaming, "That's it! I'm done. I don't want anymore children. Return the one we've got." And then I heard the continued beeping of the dryer I'd gone into the guest bathroom to turn off in the first place. "And turn off the friggin' dryer!" So I'm no longer trying to wean myself off of my "Mother's Little Helpers" and have officially declared myself entitled to "a selfish phase." (Yes, my brother and sister will wonder how this is different than normal...) Which basically means I will be sewing a lot this weekend and Henry will be spending some quality time either with Daddy or in his swing.

More ladies for lovin'

WELCOME TO THE WORLD Margaret "Maggie" Bowden Kirkpatrick, born to my high school friends Katharine and Jay Kirkpatrick. Weighing in at 7 lbs and 20 inches long, she was born yesterday morning, on my dad's birthday, as I predicted.

Also, my college roomie Theresa and her husband Aaron found out that despite earlier ultrasound predictions, that they too are having a GIRL who will also be named Maggie.

What is this? Why are you people takin' my girl name? Had Henry been a girl he would've been Emma Sloan, but more and more lately I've been thinking of my grandmother Johnson, my best friend from growin' up, Meg, and also Katharine's mom, Margaret Ann, aka "Momma Hall" and was planning to name the next Baby P (if it's a girl), Margaret and call her "Meg." So what doin'?

Stinky Pickles and Bricks

I am trying to decide what I like best about being a mommy. Someone lighting up whenever I enter a room, an audience for my singing, dressing my own live doll, getting to watch Guiding Light every day, cuddles, kisses, and teeny tiny toes.

But there is also a dark side. I've gotten spit up on so many times that I now have a permanent sour milk smell. Seriously. Henry is teething and so there is more spit up than usual. I've taken to wiping myself off with baby wipes instead of bathing. (If I took a shower every time I got spit up on me, my hair would probably fall out.) Last night there was so much of it I had to call Sloan to come take Henry so I could change clothes. Ugh. But sweet.

Henry now has two favorites. It used to just be me, no one else. But now he likes Daddy too. Check out these pictures. The first is of me trying to get Henry to smile--I was making funny faces, singing, jumping up and down. The second is Sloan walking in the room and simply saying, "Hey Pickles." (Pickles is our little pet name for him. We have no idea where it came from.) I'm happy that Henry loves his daddy, but a bit sad at him loving both of us equally. I'm warped.

I'm also becoming dorky. I came home from my first day of Bible Study yesterday and told Sloan, "There's this cute girl in my small group. She's really pretty, also has a new baby boy, and dresses cool. I hope I can make her my friend." Sloan said, "Really? Maybe you should ask Mom if she can come over to play. What are you, twelve?"

To add to my dorkdom I'm becoming domestic. In addition to my regular craftiness, I'm taking sewing classes and am really excited about it. I'm making this cowboy themed bag for Henry. If I turn any more into a dork I'm just going to have to shoot myself. At least I'm not a brick expert. (Sloan watched this show on the History channel about bricks and there was this tool of a British guy whose title was "Brick Historian" and behind him was a wall full of books on bricks. I thought, imagine this guy at a dinner party. "Stewart, what do you do?" "I write books on bricks." "Really? Is there much of an audience for that?" Who buys these books? It actually makes me a bit depressed that some brick dork is a published author and I am not. He probably smells better than me too.)

God Bless Henry

I have decided that Henry is the cutest baby on the planet. Seriously. He has long eyelashes, big eyes, a single dimple in his right cheek that shows up whenever he's laughing hard, and the perfect amount of hair. I have also decided that not only is Henry the cutest baby, but that every other baby by comparison is just plain ugly. If you have a baby, then of course I don't mean your baby. I look at all of these baby catalogs, particularly now that they are full of babies in Halloween costumes and I think, "My God, where did they find all of these ugly babies? Henry could make a fortune were he to model!" Sometimes I feel bad about this, that I'm being petty and judgmental, but then I realize that no, I'm right, and you can't feel guilty about the truth.

He also is the most well behaved baby ever. He slept through his entire Baptism. Even when Pastor Shelby put the cold water on his head and kissed him on the cheek. I like to think that he wasn't asleep, but deep in prayer. That we have a deeply spiritual baby.

But I'm not so sure. This morning was the first day of my Bible Study at church where I am a leader and just as we were about to pray, Henry let out a loud belch. Not a cute baby burp, but a man-sized beer guzzling, wing eatin' burp. I, of course, proceeded to laugh throughout the entire prayer so we may be hopeless for the deeply spiritual baby.

We had a big weekend with Henry's baptism on Sunday. It was a good time and reminded me of how far we have come in a year. September 15th of last year I had my embryo transfer, so I can honestly say that he was baptized about a year to the day from when God first made him. It has been humbling to reflect on how much God has done for us and the many people who have helped bring Henry into this world. At one point, I think I counted up something like 120 people who were praying for him, and this was before he was even conceived! I'm sure my stint in the hospital bumped it up to around 200. What a treat it will be to tell Henry of how he has been loved for so long by so many.

It was also my niece Isabel's first birthday on Sunday. I wanted to get her an airbrushed onesie with Henry's face on it since he is her favorite, but opted for board books instead. It was a madhouse at her birthday party since so many were in town also for H's baptism, but it was fun. Isabel shrieked at the top of her ample lungs each time she was within reach of Henry. At one point I thought she was going to rip off his nose. I had to make sure she didn't see him during the church service of his baptism for fear of her blood curdling screams of love for him.

But as much fun as this past weekend was, it was also tiring. Even for Henry. Yesterday morning we woke up as usual around 8 for his first bottle. He took 6 oz and then fell back to sleep around 8:45. So I put him back in his crib and crawled back into bed thinking, I'll just sleep until he wakes up, which will probably be around 10 or so. No. Henry and I slept until NOON. What?! That's right. I felt like such a slob, but apparently we needed it.

What a wonderful baby. God Bless Henry.

Big Swedes

This morning was Henry's 4 month check up and he is growing up to show off his father's Swedish stock (albeit his eyes are getting browner by the day). He is 15 lbs, 13 oz and 26 1/2 inches long. That is 75 percentile for weight and 90th for height! The doctor even thinks that he will begin teething soon as his gums appear to be red and a bit swollen. (So that's why he keeps chewing his hands!)

Here is Henry is his Christening gown. I put it on him and Sloan said, "It's a dress." I said, "What did you think the word gown meant?" But it is very sweet as it is the one that both Marshall and Sloan were baptized in along with many of their cousins. The slip has about 10 sets of initials embroidered on it of its previous wearers. Certainly the most recent wearer is the most handsome.

More Girls for Henry

A big shout out to my good friend and brand new mommy, Jackie Bizzell. She gave birth yesterday, despite an epidural that didn't work, to a beautiful girl, Natalie Marie. With the same name as his cousin, Henry now has two Natalies to love and torment him.

LL Cool H (Ladies Love Cool Henry)

Labor Day? Not for Henry. Sloan and I went out to the Pusey Country Club (aka my sister's house) to hang out for the day with her three youngest, Joshua (6), Jonathan (4), and Isabel (12 months). We lolled about the pool, watched cartoons, and Henry even slept with his first girl. We may have to move to West Virginia, however, as it was his cousin, Isabel. I have spoken before of their love for one another. But is really is sweet. He fell asleep in her crib first and then we she dozed off, we put her in. They are the ones that decided to hold hands.

Summertime and the living is easy...

We took our first official family vacation last week. Along the way, we saw family and took bunches of pictures.

First we went to Greensboro and ate dinner with Gigi and Papa and the Johnson cousins. Henry's cousin Caroline told us all about how she was heading off to Kindergarten and his cousin Natalie, aged 3, informed us at dinner that if you get seconds, you will throw up. Actually it went something like this....Natalie: Where's Gigi? Aunt Elizabeth: Getting seconds. Natalie: That's too much food. If you eat too much, you throw up. (Mind you, we were at the Country Club buffet, so my mother was actually just getting her main course after having finished her salad. It also should be noted that despite seconds being had by many, no one vomited.)

Friday morning, we woke up at the crack of dawn and headed to Davidson, NC to visit Grandma and Grandpa Phillips, along with Great-Grandma Violet. We were excited to get to see her as it has been a year since we went out West with her. She turned 99 this past summer. Upon going to the hospital to get pictures of her heart taken recently, she told the radiologist--"It may be difficult for you as I gave my heart to Chet Whittaker over 70 years ago."

Friday night we spent the night with Uncle Marshall (Sloan's big brother, as in Henry "Marshall") and Aunt Holly and the Phillips cousins, Violet (6), Bo (4), and Gigi (11 months). Bo didn't feel like having anything to do with Henry, even when I told him he wouldn't have to wash his hands. Violet and Gigi (whose thighs are adorably huge) gave him lots of cuddles and kisses. Bo did, however, hand down loads of cute smocked outfits. (Thanks Holly!)

From Charlotte, we headed down to my parents' condo at Litchfield by the Sea. We lolled about, floated along in the lazy river, rode around in the golf cart (which Henry adored!), and even rode waves in the ocean. He slept late in his pack n play, and even took naps in the sand. He was wonderful as we went out to dinner for our third anniversary. Henry began giggling this week and continues to carry on his reign of cutest boy baby on the planet! Mommy has also learned to feed him on the go. Many a trucker along 95 got to watch me climb from the front seat into the back to shove a bottle in Henry's mouth. We are so blessed to have such an easy going baby.

Rollin, Rollin, Rollin, Rawhide

August 21, 2007. 5:45 pm
HENRY ROLLS OVER FOR THE FIRST TIME!!!!


He is now rolling over from back to front. I think most babies roll over tummy to back first, but apparently no one told Henry this. He loves to roll over to see himself better in the mirror while playing in his gym. The only problem with this is that Henry is not a fan of "tummy time," yet he keeps finding himself on his tummy. I tried explaining that this would happen every time he rolled from his back to his front, but he doesn't listen. Since this time, he has also started sleeping curled up on his side. It is very sweet to watch.