advent, babies, and thoughts on peace

Dear Milo,

You don't understand it, but it's Christmastime. You love the tree. And the lights. And you seem to like the Pandora Christmas station.

But, Milo. I want to tell you about my favorite part of Christmas.

It's called Advent. Advent is a time of waiting. And preparing. And hoping. (Last Christmas, we were waiting, preparing, and hoping for you!)

Last Sunday, Christians around the world celebrated the second Sunday of Advent and lit the candle of peace.

At our church, the young adult group hosted a group of folks from the Multicultural Mosaic Foundation in Denver. A group of Muslims, men and women, came to our church to speak about Islam and their organizational efforts to build peace through dialogue and education. (i.e. They take time to travel to Christian churches and Jewish synagogues to prove that Muslims aren't scary.)

Our young adult group invited other Sunday School classes to attend as well and, at 9:30 a.m., the room was full.

My stomach was in knots. I knew what kind of questions the young adults would ask, but I had no idea what kinds of questions the other folks would ask. I didn't want to be embarrassed. I didn't want to offend our Muslim guests.

In addition to worrying about the questions that would be asked, I had to worry about you. Sunday School is smack dab in the middle of when you should be napping, but I'm too chicken to put you in the nursery and Daddy was working.

I was right. People asked questions that embarrassed me. But Ismail and Andrea and the other friends from MMF didn't bat an eyelash. They responded to the questions with patience and grace. More patience and grace than we deserved.

(Afterward, I asked Ismail if he gets tired of answering the same questions over and over again and having to defend his faith. He said, yes, it is tiring, but it is necessary. He said he hopes that someday he won't have to travel to churches and defend Islam. That is my hope, too.)

But I was wrong about you. You were perfect. Even though you were exhausted, you didn't make a peep.

And when the class was over, the Muslim women hustled over to you and oohed and ahhed over you. And you put on quite the show. You let one of the mamas hold you and smiled your gigantic, toothless grin. One of the women was pregnant and is having a baby boy in February. I told her baby boys were wonderful and we talked about where she is going to deliver.

I realized that motherhood is capable of transcending lots and lots of boundaries. All mamas love their babies and want what's best for them.

And Milo, I looked at you with pride and joy. I ached for Ismail, Andrea, and the mamas who were holding you because building peace must be oh so exhausting. But on the day we lit a candle of peace, I looked at you. My little 16-pound peacemaker. And I felt like I have reason to hope.

Love,

Mama

baby brain. it's expensive.

Yesterday, David had the day off. And so I left the boys at home and went to get my hair cut and colored. (I haven't touched the color since May because it's too expensive, but this mama needed a little pampering.)

So there I am, sitting in the hair cut chair with a plastic bag over my hair while the color sets.

And then I see the (insert inappropriate adjective here) Denver Parking Enforcement dude drive by the front window and slow down by my car.

(Back up a minute. Because David was home with the baby, I left him with the vehicle I normally drive because it has a car seat base. I took our Civic that HE normally drives.)

And he gives me a ticket.

And so my hair cut gal goes out to get the ticket because I've only been parked there for 30 minutes and the sign says I can park there for an hour. She's feeling indignant on my behalf.

Except, when she returns with the ticket, it's not for parking there too long.

It's for expired tags.

Like tags that expired in effing September.

Don't ask me how we made it to December without realizing that our tags were expired. (I blame the baby.) And don't even ask me how my husband can drive the car for 3 months and not get caught, but the first time I drive it, I get a ticket. (I blame the hubby.)

And so, we now have to budget into our Christmas budget renewing our tags, paying the late fee, AND paying my enormous ticket.

Baby brain. It's expensive.

mary's come unglued

Yesterday, I was pulling the last of the Christmas decorations out of the box and, when I took out our tiny nativity set, this is what I saw.

That's right. Mary is missing.

If you look closely, you can see the tiny bit of leftover adhesive on the empty side of the manger where Mary used to kneel in front of the baby Jesus.

Upon discovering that our nativity set was minus one, I said to David, "Mary's come unglued!" And then immediately busted out laughing.

As a new mama myself, I began to imagine the many different reasons that Mary might have fled the stable.

Maybe she was tired of kneeling and looking at baby Jesus all day long. I mean, I'm sure he was cute and all, but staring at a baby all day long isn't exactly scintillating.

Or maybe she was tired of the sheep's incessant baaing that kept her baby awake at naptime.

Or maybe she was tired of 2 a.m. feedings. Even the Son of God had to eat at 2 a.m. and I'm pretty sure Mary didn't have a Medela pump so Joseph could share the responsibility of feeding the crying babe.

And Joseph. Maybe she was tired of picking up Joseph's underwear off the stable floor. And getting left behind in the stable while he was off doing carpentry work.

Maybe she missed her family. And Elizabeth, her sister-friend.

Maybe she took a well-deserved vacation by herself at some hot springs resort in the desert.

Maybe she was tired of only being known as a mother, and left in an effort to resuscitate a piece of her former life. (I like to imagine her organizing women and peasants for higher wages.)

Maybe she was just tired.

Anyway, you'll be relieved to know that I found Mary at the bottom of the Christmas box. And I returned her to her place in the manger.

However.

She's no longer glued down. And I kind of like it that way.

I've decided that, every couple of days, I'm going to relieve her from her mama duties and put her somewhere else. By herself. Somewhere quiet. At least for a couple of hours.

I think Mary deserves a silent night every now and then.

milo rolls over

1.36 cm

Ok, so you might get tired of posts like this.

But I can't help but remember where we were a year ago today.

One year ago today we got our first peek at our first baby.

And I fell in love. And I swear my heart grew bigger.

One year ago our baby was 1.36 cm big. And today he is almost 16 pounds.

This blows my mind.

Today I am feeling overwhelmed and amazed by this gift of life that has been part of me for over a year.

Seriously. Where does time go???

puppy love

milo's first thanksgiving

This year, David had to work on Thanksgiving day so, instead of heading to KC or spending Thanksgiving with friends here in Denver, we were on our own. We celebrated a day late, but it felt like Thanksgiving in the Baker house!

I've never made an entire Thanksgiving meal before, and I discovered that I really enjoyed preparing it. David helped me stuff the turkey. He put up our Christmas tree. I cooked. Milo listened to his first Christmas songs. We watched football and napped on the couch. We had a really, really nice day.

Mostly, we marveled at our growing baby who is amazing, healthy, and perfect. And funny! He brings so much joy to our lives and, perhaps more than any previous Thanksgiving, we understand what it means to feel full to the brim with gratitude.

milo, dressed up for his first thanksgiving!

david putting up our tree

my first turkey!

our table (small, but joyous)

david carving the turkey

mama & milo

my boys

midas, being a really good sport

watching football