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

too tired to think of a title

I love my son.

But, OMG.

He is transitioning from babyhood to toddlerdom.

And it

is

exhausting.

I know mamas with twins. And I know mamas with more than one kid.

They are my heroes.

Because seriously.

I can't really argue that being a mama is harder than working full-time. But I do know that, when I had a full-time job, I got the nights and weekends off. Mamas don't get days off. Milo doesn't care if it's Saturday. He thinks 5:45 is a perfectly fine hour to greet the morning, Saturday or not.

Milo is cutting another tooth. And he won't leave the cable jack alone. And last night I rushed him to my friend's house (she's a doctor) because Milo had these weird spots on his chest and belly that I thought might be internal bleeding. And she listened to his breathing and said he was probably fine. It was probably just a bruise. And not to worry. But I could wake up every few hours and make sure his spleen wasn't swollen.

Which I did.

And then today, his "bruise" came off in the bathtub. I think it was a stain from his new vitamin drops that I bought him.

Not because the pediatrician said he needed vitamin drops. But because I read that babies can suffer from iron deficiency and become anemic.

I worry about what to feed him.

Today I fed him ground up flaxseed. It's supposedly high in fatty acids. But I think it gave him a belly ache.

Because when I put him down for his afternoon nap, he talked in his crib for an hour, slept for 30 minutes, and then screamed bloody murder for 40 more minutes, even when I held him.

Lucky thing his bruise washed off or we'd be in the ER right now having his spleen checked out.

It has been approximately 68 days (give or take two weeks) since David and I got out without the baby.

I think we need a date night.

And I need a glass of wine.

happy 9 months, milo!

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

Milo, your ninth month was big. Huge. Epic, really.

This month you started eating blueberries, brussel sprouts, cherries, yellow squash, eggplant, and yogurt.

You cut your second tooth. You now have two adorable teeth on the bottom.

But the BIG news is that you started crawling! And, once you discovered mobility, you immediately started pulling up on things. You love to pull up on something—anything-- and sit on your knees. And you love to investigate. You pull up by the TV, the refrigerator, the dishwasher, the table, the bathtub. You’ve lost interest in your toys—you’d much rather play with the laundry Mama is trying to fold or the groceries Mama is trying to put away or the DVD player or the dog bowl or the remote control or Mama’s flip flops…!

And even though it makes life way harder for your Mama now that you are crawling, I secretly love watching you decide to go after something, crawl to it, and then investigate it. I love your curiosity! I love that you are delighted by the simple things in your world. (I also love that giving you two metal measuring cups to bang together buys me enough time to go to the bathroom!)

Milo, it has been so fun to watch you move.

But, I’ll be honest.

The day you learned to crawl, I cried.

Mostly it was out of pride. I know all babies learn to crawl. But you are my baby and watching my baby move across the floor on his own felt like a really big deal.

I mostly felt pride. But I also felt a pang of sadness.

Because for nine months I kept you safe inside my body. You were tucked beneath my heart. Snug and warm. And I pumped you full of vitamins and love.

And then you came out. And that was a little bit scary. (Ok, a LOT scary) I had to make sure I didn’t drop you. But I didn’t. And, for the most part, your dad and I felt like we could still keep you safe. For nine more months we could hold you tight and keep you close.

But now.

Now you can move.

On your own.

And you can pull up. Which means you also fall over. A lot. And you bump your head. And you pinch your fingers. And you scrape your knees. And I have to watch and make sure you don’t find something tiny that you can put in your mouth and choke on.

And it makes me want to wrap you up in bubble wrap. Or, even better, stick you in a padded box forever so you can’t get hurt.

But I know that’s not what’s best for you. There’s a reason babies learn to crawl. Because the momentum of life is always forward.

Your learning to crawl has made me mindful of these words from Kahlil Gibran:

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit,

not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,

and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;

for even as He loves the arrow that flies,

so He loves the bow that is stable.

I know you’re only nine months old. You’re still a baby. But mamas have this keen ability to see the future. To feel the future. And, today, I can feel you moving forward. You are my living arrow, baby boy. And I feel so lucky to be your bow.

I love you,

Mama

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.