happy 5 months, milo!

Happy day, Milo! You are 5 months old today!

Oh my gosh, Milo, 4 months was SO MUCH FUN!

You are such a fun & good baby. And you hardly EVER cry. You have discovered your toes and love to play with your feet. You are really close to sitting up on your own. You want so badly to sit up in the bath tub & play with your rubber duck. You are easily entertained. We took you out to dinner & you loved playing with the straw wrapper. You love your thumb and might be a thumb sucker?!

AND, the biggest news of all, you’ve started SLEEPING!!! (You are a little messed up now that we are on vacation but BEFORE we came to KS you were sleeping 5 hour stretches at night! OMG, your mama started having dreams at night again! Hello, REM sleep, I have missed you…)

Milo, it is only 4 more days until we celebrate Christmas with you. Your first Christmas. Your very first one. And my first Christmas as a mama. I’m hoping we have many, many more Christmases together but this one is so special because it is our first one with you.

Milo, on Christmas morning you will have one gift from us. I know you will get many, many more gifts, but from us, you will get one.

I was sad about this, at first. If I could, Milo, I would buy you the moon and wrap it up for you.

But, I was reminded that you don’t care if we only have one present under the tree for you.

And I was reminded of all the gifts we give you that can’t be wrapped.

So, Milo, here are the “gifts” you’re getting this year:

Two parents who love you more than anything in this world. Two parents who are committed to loving each other & being parents together. We are committed to this family.

A daddy who works really hard so you can have a warm house to live in. And a daddy who, when he gets home from work after a long day, can’t wait for you to wake up and cry so he can run in & pick you up from your crib. He’s a good, good daddy.

And a mama who stays home with you to love & care for you all day long. A mama who loves you something fierce.

And grandparents. Milo, you are so lucky to have grandparents who love you & play with you & dote on you like you are the world’s most wonderful baby.

And great-grandparents. And aunts, uncles, & cousins.

You are surrounded, Milo. Surrounded by people who love you & who are committed to raising you.
And that is a gift that simply cannot be wrapped.

Love,
Mama

milo's fifth month

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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