milo's eleventh month

8

This week we celebrated 8 years of being married.

Thanks to Milo's grandmas, we got to go biking together, eat lunch AND dinner out, and stay out until 9:30 p.m.

But mostly, our anniversary day was just like the others.

Milo woke up. I nursed him. David changed him. David fed the dogs. He made coffee. I made breakfast. I packed Milo's diaper bag. He loaded the car. Milo took naps. He got a bath. We put him to bed.

Our anniversary was not super exciting. Not very glamorous. But I was aware of the rhythm between us. The gentle give and take. The way we have figured so many things out together.

And I was aware of how much I love having this person as my partner and friend, even after 8 years.

I still think he's funny.

He still thinks I'm beautiful.

We've been through big transitions together. And it's not always easy. But I know for sure that there's no one else I'd rather share a life with.

So, here's to us, David Baker. Happy 8th anniversary.

a mama confession: baby trickery

I have some friends with new babies. And one friend who is a month away from having a new baby.

And, sometimes, when I hang out with new babies, I can't remember why I thought new babies were hard. Because holding a baby that falls asleep when it's tired and stays asleep in Target feels way easier than a Milo baby that requires being in his crib with his two loveys, his sleep sheep, his white noise machine, and his pacifier in order to take a nap. Not to mention that it can't be too light and can't be too hot.

And also new babies don't move much when you're trying to cook dinner. Or go to the bathroom.

But, here's the thing.

Being a new mama with a new baby is so hard even if, looking back now, I can't remember why.

It's hard because becoming a mother is a big darn deal. It changes every single cell in your body. Where, before, you only had to think about yourself and maybe a pet or two, now you have to think about this little person who depends on you to stay alive.

Plus, becoming a mother makes you way dumber. I used to be smart. If you don't believe me, look at my GPA from graduate school or read old posts on this blog. But after a baby? Brain mush. Mostly because your brain is busy remembering the last time you fed your baby, trying to determine if your baby is eating enough, trying to guess if your baby is too hot, too cold, too gassy, or too constipated. Not to mention that trying to figure out a baby's sleep schedule requires a rocket science degree. Your brain is too full to remember other people's birthdays or that your car tags need renewing.

And just when you start to figure some things out, the baby comes up with NEW things to trip you up. Like getting teeth. And starting solids.

Before we moved, I felt like I was in a really good place with Milo. But then he did some magic baby trickery and changed it up on me. He is throwing fits when we try to change his diaper. He lays down on the floor and kicks his legs when you take something away that he's not supposed to have. And he makes this weird "eh eh eh" noise when he wants more oat puffs, which is pretty much every minute of the day.

I work myself into a panic when I think about what's ahead of us: toddlerdom, potty training, preschool....... it makes me pine for the "good ole days" when I only had to worry about myself.

Luckily, there is an antidote for baby trickery.

Other mamas.

You need other mamas. It's helpful to have mamas who are ahead of you. Mamas who can give you advice and pour you a glass of wine. Mamas who understand how much you love your baby but, also, how much you sometimes wish the Goodwill would come pick your baby up from the curb.

And, so, to all you new mamas and about-to-be mamas (and any friends who might someday be mamas), I want you to know that you can and will survive baby trickery.

And, if you live close by, I'll be there to pour you a glass of wine.........

Also, it really helps that babies are cute. How can you NOT love this face?

new

New.

Well, sort of new.

Returning "home" after 4 years isn't really new, but it is different.

It has been one week.

One week since we packed our whole life up in boxes and drove away from Denver. One week since we saw mountains in our rear view mirror.

This week has been weird. Not all bad, not all good. Mostly kind of weird.

We are settling in at my mom's. She has graciously made space for us while we figure out what to do next.

We've gotten to see my in-laws a couple of times. It is SO nice to be fed and to have people chase your baby around for you.

I caught Milo reading a book with his Uncle Matt the other day and it made me swell up with happiness to see Milo sitting on his knees and pointing to animals in his giant animal book. He'd look up at his Uncle Matt and wait to hear Uncle Matt tell him the name of the animal. Then he would smile.

All of this has confirmed for me that I want Milo to have more family than just David and me.

But, also.

I've cried.

I've been sad.

I've felt lost.

I've felt disappointed.

Change is hard.

I don't think I realized how much of my identity was tied up with living in Colorado. How much I liked telling people I lived there. How much of my "story" centered around leaving Kansas and going to Colorado for graduate school.

It was easy, in the middle of the mountains, to sense God's presence.

However, I am convinced God is also present here. In Kansas. In my everyday, ordinary story. I can feel that God is doing something new. That God will somehow knit together the education and experiences I've had into something beautiful. That God can use me here.

I changed the name of this blog. No longer "Life in Denver," but a new title. I'm trying it out. "The Sacred is in the Ordinary" is my reminder that daily life is saturated with God's goodness. With God-ness. If only we have eyes to see it.

farewell

This is what I worked on yesterday when Milo was napping. Yep, instead of packing, I made this super cheesy video.

Why?

Well, for one, sappy music and photo montages are my love language.

And also it felt good to reflect on four years here.

To think about all the trails we have hiked, the friends we have made, and the baby we birthed. Oh yeah, and we got some degrees too.

We are making the right decision to move. I'm sure of it. I'll be glad to be "home."

But, saying new hellos requires saying goodbyes first. And making this video helped me do that.

So, here it is. Our "life in Denver"......

body language

Our house is filled with half-packed boxes. Odds and ends I don't know what to do with. It's a tricky thing to keep everything you "need" unpacked and available until the last minute.

Milo is changing exponentially. Pulling up. Taking steps. Deciding to put small bites of finger food in his mouth has translated into picking up tiny things on the floor and trying to put them in his mouth too. In the last 3 days, I have fished out a piece of fuzz, a feather, and the hard piece on the end of the avocado (who even knows what THAT is called?)

In the middle of packing and baby-wrangling, we are also trying to say goodbye. Spend time with the people we've grown to love here. Honestly, there's not enough time. And it is hard on my heart.

And, evidently, my body.

I didn't think I was too stressed. I thought I was handling everything pretty well.

But, sometimes the body knows things the mind doesn't.

And, yesterday, I went to the doctor and was diagnosed with shingles.

Luckily, the pain isn't too bad. Mostly just uncomfortable. And itchy.

I'm taking my anti-virals. And praying Milo doesn't develop chicken pox.

And, I'm trying to listen to what my body is communicating.

The fact that this is hard.

And sad.

And kind of scary.

Body language.

(I am writing this blog post while watching the news. Moving, packing, and shingles are NOTHING in light of the suffering in Joplin.......)

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