milo's ninth month

i think he hates technology

a totally random and stupid post

I have a lot on my mind tonight.

I have two dear friends who are having babies soon. One is so close to having twin baby girls that it could be happening while I'm writing this post.

I'm thinking about birth.

And how sacred and awesome it is.

And I had coffee with a new mama today.

It made me realize how far I've come.

How far all mamas go when they become mamas and raise babies.

I've come almost nine months far.

And I'm thinking about David's interview on Monday.

And how we might be living in KC soon.

And how that's mostly good.

But also kind of sometimes a lot of sad, too.

And I'm thinking about money.

And how I wish there was more of it.

But I guess there's always enough of it.

Kind of.

Which I'm thankful for.

And I'm thankful for love.

Because there always seems to be more than enough of that.

Which I'm super SUPER thankful for.

the end.

i'm moving to canada

I don't often talk about politics on this blog.

But, I swear.

If Donald Trump becomes president,

I'm MOVING TO CANADA!!!

playing small

David took pictures of Milo & me the other day. And, when I uploaded them to our computer, I remembered why I never take pictures of myself anymore.

For one, the day that David took these pictures, I had a gigantic pimple.

But a pimple is temporary. The short, post-baby hairs that are growing at my part feel like they will be around forever. (Nobody tells you when you are pregnant that one of the side effects of giving birth is losing all the hair you didn't lose when you were pregnant and then dealing with the new, fuzzy hair that grows in its place.)

And then, of course, there is the post-baby baby belly that refuses to leave. Despite my running and my denying myself cupcakes (and the fact that my baby is almost nine months old), my midsection feels forever marked by the fact that I grew and birthed a baby.

All this to say, I had no intention of posting the pictures David took.

But then two things happened.

One, I couldn't get over how much these pictures seemed to capture the love I feel for my son. The joy I feel when I am with him. And, I believe, there is evidence in these pictures of how much my son loves me.

I realized that I need more pictures of the two of us. We have thousands (literally THOUSANDS) of pictures of Milo at every stage in his young life. And we have tons of pictures of him with the people who love him. And only a few pictures of Milo with his mama.

He is growing up fast. This must be remedied.

The other thing that happened is I was reading my Lenten book.

And I came across this quote from Marianne Williamson:

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.

Your playing small does not serve the world.

There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

I love my son.

I want him to grow up believing he has the glory of God within him.

I want him to know he is loved.

Do I believe he's smart? Yes. Sweet? Yes. Funny? Yes. Kind? Yes. Talented? Yes.

Is that why I love him?

No.

I love him because he is Milo.

And this, I believe, is the way God loves us. Simply because we are.

And, if I want my son to believe in God's love and if I want him to believe God's goodness is inside him...

I have to believe it about myself.

Your playing small does not serve the world.

So, here are the pictures of me and my son...

I am brilliant.

I am gorgeous.

I am talented.

I am fabulous.

I am a child of God.

And so are you.

milo & the dog bowl

"how to teach your parents a very important lesson" by milo baker

Yesterday my parents decided to take me hiking.

And I decided to teach them a lesson.

They wanted to "get outside" on a beautiful, Colorado day. They said I had to come too since Midas and Zoe are unreliable babysitters.

I tried to play along.

I woke up happy.

I entertained myself with my rock-n-crawl ball while they packed the car.

I giggled and played with my toes on the 45-minute drive to the mountains.

Mom & Dad put me in the hiking backpack.

I looked adorable.

I even acted interested in the "wildlife." (Mom & Dad got all excited showing me the squirrels. Um, hello dummies, we have those in our backyard.)

But, then I got tired.

Really, really tired.

I tried to tell my parents I was tired. But they kept hiking.

I started crying.

Hard.

My dad said something to my mom like "I didn't really think the trail was this long."

And my mom said something to my dad like "I can't believe we left his pacifier in the car."

Seriously, these people are allowed to raise me?

I cried and cried and cried.

My mom tried to nurse me on a rock by the trail. But that wasn't what I wanted.

I cried super loud into my dad's ear, but he kept walking. Really fast. At one point, I could no longer feel my mom following behind us. It's a miracle we didn't lose her.

I finally convinced my dad to take me out of the stupid backpack and carry me like a normal person. When people passed us, they laughed at us. My dad carrying me. My mom carrying the ginormous (and now empty) backpack carrier. And me, crying. I didn't care. I kept crying.

We finally made it back to the car. I fell asleep before we even made it down the mountain.

I don't think we'll be hiking again any time soon.

Because that, my friends, is how I taught my parents a very important lesson.

Don't ever, EVER mess with my nap time.

Ever.