happy 10 months, milo!

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

Mommy is writing this letter while you are napping because there's no way I could write it if you were awake. You. are. so. BUSY!

You love to crawl all over. And you love to find new things. This morning I was watching you and you found a tiny piece of string in your toy box. You were fascinated, rubbing it between your fingers for, what felt like, minutes.

You are eating finger foods now. I've been putting food on your highchair tray for a couple of weeks now but it wasn't until today that you were able to pick it up and put it in your mouth. It's like you were waiting to be ten months old and decided that now you feed yourself! It's adorable. You have SIX teeth and use them to chew up banana, avocado, tofu, and cheese.

Milo, I'll be honest. Your 10-month birthday snuck up on me.

Last night, I was waiting for my friend to meet me at Thai Basil and, as I sat at the window, I realized I was across the street from the hospital where you were born. I could even see the window to our room. And it was then I remembered that today was your 10-month birthday.

It's funny, Milo. I used to know, to the day, how many days until your next milestone "birthday." But this one snuck up on me. Maybe it is because we are busy packing. Or maybe it is because I can't remember my life before you. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to remember, but I can't recall what it felt like to not be your mama. It feels like I've been your mama for always.

Milo, I took your picture today. And it made me sad to think this is the last "monthly milo" picture I'll take in Denver. We're moving in 8 days.

We are moving you closer to your grandparents, Milo. And your aunts and uncles. They love you SO much and we want you to be close to them.

But, I'm so glad you were born here. In Colorado. You are our "Denver baby." The best souvenir ever. A forever reminder of our time here.

In the middle of packing, in the middle of thinking about our "new" life in KC, in the middle of feeling excited, in the middle of feeling heavy-hearted, I've discovered something, Milo.

My home is wherever you are.

Kansas. Colorado. It's all just scenery.

My heart is "home" when I'm with you and your dad.

And, for that, I am forever grateful.

I love you,

Mama

milo's tenth month

Meatless Mondays: Barley Risotto with Eggplant and Tomatoes

Last night I made this yummy recipe. Risotto is labor-intensive but oh so yummy.

6 cups diced eggplant

1 pint cherry tomatoes

3 tablespoons olive oil, divided

1/2 tsp. black pepper

5 c. broth

2 c. water

1 1/2 c. finely chopped onion

1 c. uncooked pearl barley

2 teaspoons minced garlic

1/2 c. dry white wine

1/4 tsp salt

1/2 c. crumbled soft goat cheese

1/4 c. thinly sliced fresh basil

1/4 c. pine nuts (I omitted)

1. Preheat oven to 400.

2. Combine eggplant, tomatoes, 2 tablespoons oil, and 1/4 tsp pepper in a bowl; toss to coat. Arrange mixture in a single layer on a jelly-roll pan. Bake at 400 for 20 minutes or until tomatoes begin to collapse and eggplant is tender.

3. Combine broth and 2 cups water in a medium saucepan; bring to a simmer (do not boil.) Keep warm over low heat.

4. Heat remaining 1 tablespoon oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add onion to pan; saute 4 minutes or until onion begins to brown. Stir in barley and garlic; cook 1 minute or until liquid almost evaporates, stirring constantly. Add 1 cup broth mixture to pan; bring to a boil, stirring frequently. Cook 5 minutes or until liquid is nearly absorbed, stirring constantly. Add remaining broth mixture, 1 cup at a time, stirring constantly until each portion of broth mixture is absorbed before adding the next (about 40 minutes total). Gently stir in eggplant mixture, remaining pepper, and salt. Top with cheese, basil, and nuts.

I heart you, colorado. it's nothing personal.

Well, the moving truck is reserved.

In 19 days we will pack our stuff, our dogs, and our baby into a car and drive out of Colorado.

It's bittersweet, really.

I'm excited to live closer to family again. (And we will be living CLOSE. Like my mom's basement until we find a place of our own.)

I'm excited to have extra hands and extra laps for Milo. I'm happy he'll live so close to his rockin' grandparents. I'm excited to be reunited with friends we left 4 years ago.

But, I'm sad.

Denver is our home. KC is where we are from. It's where we grew up. But, right now, in this very moment, Denver is our home.

It's where I went to school. And met new friends. And learned so many new things about myself. And the world.

It's where David found a job in a hospital that loves him. They nurtured him as he became a nurse.

It's where our church is. No, our membership isn't at Trinity. But Trinity is our church. It's the place that nurtured me as I grew in faith development and leadership.

And, it's where we became a family. We love, love, love our extended family. (If we didn't, we wouldn't be moving!) But Colorado is where we learned to be a family of two. And then a family of three. We learned to rely on each other. We grew up together. We became parents together.

Not to mention how much we love Colorado.

Like, SO love Colorado.

Have I told you that Colorado has awesome weather? And like zero humidity? And like zero bugs? And we are 30 minutes from the mountains???

*Sigh*

If motherhood has taught me anything, it is that most of life is both/and. Motherhood is BOTH incredibly rewarding AND incredibly frustrating. It is BOTH exhausting AND exhilarating.

Both. And.

At the same time.

And, so I guess, this move is also that way.

Both the end of our chapter here in Denver and the beginning of a new chapter in KC.

Both exciting and gut-wrenching.

Both. And.

All of it heaped up in one big messy pile.

I started this blog as a way to keep in touch with our Kansas families. Now, I suppose, it will be a good way to keep in touch with our Colorado families.

It won't be called "Life in Denver" anymore. And that makes me sad.

And happy.

Both.

And.

I seriously heart you, Colorado. You will be missed...

my first mother's day

Tonight my heart is full.

I feel celebrated.

I feel loved.

I feel joyful.

I feel awe-filled.

I feel humbled.

I feel content.

I feel grateful.

I feel like a mother.

happy mama's day

"You may think that grown-ups create children.

The reality is that children create grown-ups.

They become their own person,

and so do you." ~John Medina

Happy Mama's Day

aren't we easter people?

I've been really troubled the past couple of days.

David & I were heading to bed on Sunday night when we caught the breaking announcement of Bin Laden's death on TV.

I'll admit that I immediately felt relief.

I ache for the victims of 9/11. I ache for their families.

I ache for the lives lost in Iraq and Afghanistan since the "War on Terror" was waged nearly a decade ago.

I ache for the family members of the special ops team who was sent in on Sunday night.

But then the relief faded.

Because the news coverage began showing people all over the country celebrating the announcement. People wrapping themselves in the flag. People shouting "USA!" People cracking open beers.

And my heart began to ache.

Yes, I am an American.

I ache for the victims of 9/11.

I ache for the soldiers. For their families.

Yes, I am an American.

But I am first, and foremost, a Christian.

And, if I confess to being a Christian, if I proclaim to follow Christ, if I truly desire to follow the path of peace, then I cannot cannot rejoice in this death.

Was it necessary? Maybe.

Are we safer? Maybe.

Will it bring closure? Maybe.

But maybe not.

And I refuse to rejoice in death.

I find it interesting that the news of Bin Laden's death came one week after Christians celebrated Easter.

One week since we sang "Hallelujah!"

One week since we announced the resurrected Christ.

One week since we confessed our belief that God's power is stronger than death. That love is greater than hate. That death does not have the last word. That darkness can be overcome. That the tomb is empty.

And yet, as I watched people dancing in the streets, I wondered if we have forgotten. It's been seven days and we seem to have forgotten.

Aren't we Easter people?

Is the message of Easter morning still relevant seven days later? Or must we wait another year to act as if Easter matters?

Obviously, I cannot know if the Americans dancing in the streets are Christians or not. But, to those who are, I want to say, aren't we Easter people? Aren't we called to live as Easter people every day? Even in the middle of a world that feels like a perpetual Good Friday?

Yes, my heart aches for the victims of 9/11.

It aches for the soldiers and their families.

But it also aches for the hundreds of thousands of Iraqis and Afghanis that have died in the "War on Terror."

It aches for the woman who was used as a human shield at Bin Laden's compound.

It aches for the mother of Bin Laden's son, who woke up on Monday morning without a child. No mother, anywhere, ever, should know the pain of losing a child.

And, my heart beats too fast as I type this..

my heart aches for Bin Laden.

Because I look at my baby son and think that, a long time ago, Bin Laden was a baby son too. And somewhere along the way, his heart became so hardened and full of hate that he became a rejoicer in death.

You may despise me for aching for him. He did terrible, terrible things.

But, if I cannot see his humanity, if I become a rejoicer in death too, then my heart is no different than his.

Bin Laden was not a Christian.

But I am.

And I pray, pray, pray that God will give me the courage, will give us the courage to live as Easter people.

Every day.

"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that." ~Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

"Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you." ~Jesus