{Maylin and Hartlie} That Sister Love

When we decided to get pregnant again when Maylin was five months old, THIS is what I prayed for.

Built-in best friends for life.

The playmate that never has to go home.

Endless nights of sleepovers.

Peals of giggles from the next room.

A tapestry of memories woven together from threads of shared experiences.

Although I'm pretty certain I had no idea what I was getting myself into, I knew that I wanted children close together in age. There were many, many desperate times over the first year. Sleepless nights where both girls were up crying simultaneously; two under two in diapers; one wanting to be held while the other needed to be nursed; I could go on. {It's funny though, that now as I'm sitting down trying to think of the hardest moments of the first year, not that many really come to my mind.}

Now they are finally {finally!} at an age where they play together, and much of the logistical difficulty of having two children fourteen months apart in age is decreasing. More and more often I'm becoming the third wheel. More and more often they share with each other more than they share with me.

Sometimes God calls us to a marathon of prayer. Sometimes there are weeks, or months, or years before any answer is obvious. In this particular case, my marathon lasted a little over a year. But it was worth it. Now I'm blessed with a feast of joy while watching my daughters, and goodness, the fruit is so sweet. 

{Miss Maylin} Maylin Turns Two: A Letter for the Night Before Your Birthday

Dear Maylin,

You're Two! Two little years in your wake, two little candles on your cake. You wear Two well. You wear it in all it's two-year toddler glory. You wear it with confidence, with brilliance, with laughter, with pizazz. You wear Two unlike any toddler has worn it before. You wear it with your head thrown back in wonder and joy, peals of giggles bubbling from your soul. You wear it with a tiny, darling gap between your two front teeth. You wear it with stomping feet, and high pitched "No!"s, and flailing limbs. You wear it with the tenderest pat-pats on my back, the most undeniable "hep pease mama!" and the greatest love of bananas and apple juice the world has known. 

The You you are becoming is extraordinarily unique, the juxtaposition of the best and worst parts of your parents combined with attributes all your own. You are dainty and poised and feminine, yet stubborn and tempermental and emotional. You have unending wells of passion and a deep determination to hold fast your obsessions. You don't stop. You don't let go. You are tenacious and determined. You are my firecracker, my brilliant little firecracker that lights up my life. You are my strong little warrior, filled with what it takes to win whatever battle you've decided to fight. You are friendly and outgoing and willing to wring the life out of life, yet simultaneously quiet and reserved, thoughtful and pensive.

You have the endearing habit of calling Deuce "Bouf" or "Boucey." You respond with "No, I don thin so" when a simple no would work just as well. Milk is pronounced "pickle" and you call Hartlie just plain "Ha."  

You greet everything with a cheery "Hi!": 

"Hi soos!" {shoes}

"Hi red!" {any red object}

"Hi ban!" {banana}

"Hi no why!" {Snow White}

"Hi boo!" {any blue object}

"Hi shishy!" {sissy}

"Hi ap soo!" {apple juice}

"Hi lello!" {any yellow object}

"Hi Man Beahr! {Manni Bear}

"Hi Muh mah!" {Mama- my favorite}

My wish for you, during this next year while you're Two, is that you remain: curious, expectant, wide-eyed, wild-eyed, innocent, alert, brilliant, friendly, confident.

My wish for you, while you're Two, is that you grow: in compassion, in kindness, in thoughtfulness, in meekness, in gentleness, in patience with understanding, in humility, in graciousness. 

Above all, my lovely green-eyed girl, may you remain to your core the truest version of You- my Maylin.

Happy Birthday.  

{Motherhood} Handling It

I took my girls to the mall yesterday. Solo.

It was a rainy Friday, and I was meeting my mom later in the afternoon so she could keep the girls for the weekend. I wanted an outing for us, an excuse to get out of the house, and going to the mall where we'd be meeting my mom later just seemed like the logically convenient and fun thing to do. I could look for a new shirt, the girls could ride in the stroller, we could see other human beings. It had the possibility of being a disaster, but I was mentally and physically prepared. Confident. A bit anxious, and probably overly laden with snacks, but confident.

When we left the house I expected to have a hilariously disastrous story to tell about some sort of meltdown or public fiasco upon returning home. But I don't. The day went surpisingly well. Smoothly. You might even say effortlessly.

It was an anti-climatic outing.

There was a moment, somewhere between watching the water gurgle up from indoor fountains and making a second trip to the bathroom, when the thought entered my mind: I'm handling this. I'm a mom with a baby and a toddler by myself in a very public mall, and I'm handling this. And {shocker} this is fun!

I'm handling this.

That is a phrase that I thought would take years for me to believe. An emotion I was unsure I would ever feel as a mother. There have been days over the course of being a mom to two under two when I longed for anti-climatic days, boring trips to the store, and uneventful public outings. And yesterday, that happened. I fielded and I tossed and I encouraged and I nourished and I manipulated and I laughed and I mothered. And it was fun. So, so fun. For the first time, I allowed myself to feel and believe that I had the whole motherhood thing under some semblance of control. And it felt good.

The highlight of the day was the carousel ride. The way Maylin's face absolutely broke open with awe and delight when we entered the center of the mall made me know before I could even formulate the thought that we'd be riding that carousel. It was as sure as if we'd already done it. There was no room in my mother's heart to deny her that pleasure, even if it meant spending some of the cash I had saved for eating dinner on a mom's night out later that evening. {Which it did.} I think the small sacrifice, though, of spending money I had earmarked for my personal pleasure made the carousel ride that much more special and satisfying. And her face. Oh, her face. This memory I will tuck away.

Afterwards, I "splurged" a bit more, and bought a pretzel for the three of us to share. Maylin, Hartlie, and I sat on a bench in front of the carousel and watched it go round and round, the taste of warm cinnamon sugar on our tongues. 

Motherhood can be hard, but it is beautiful and breathtaking, empowering and humbling. My girls are the loveliest, most exquisite pieces of my life that I never expected. I am their mother. God designed me to be mother to them. On purpose. Sure, there are times when the task of raising them, of "handling" them is daunting, but I've got this. No, more than that. I excel at this.

I excel at motherhood.

{Miss Maylin} Becoming Real

This is Manni Bear. Say hello! He has been Maylin's naptime, bedtime, nighttime, teepee time partner and overnight travel companion her entire life. 

Right now, he's sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Can you tell? That's because, during nap time, he was involved in an unfortunate incident in which Maylin accidentally soaked his darling feet in tee tee. Maylin, not prone to waking up on sopping wet sheets, was traumatized about the accident. Really, she woke up screaming. So I calmed her down and cleaned her up and striped her bed and she resumed her nap. And Manni Bear came downstairs with me.

This potty training business, y'all. I mentioned on my Instagram this was one of my great fears of mothering a toddler. I have to admit it hasn't been that bad. But it's been long. And repititious. And a commitment for both me and Maylin. And it's not over yet! {Insert large grin emoji here} Although I do think I can see a light at the end of the tunnel. I think. A small, small light. 

So, anyway, it's after 8:00 PM and I'm scrubbing Manni Bear's darling feet with hot water and lots of suds and I'm thinking about how soft and clean and new his fur was up until this point. I'm wondering, as I soak and scrub and rinse and wring, if he will feel as soft or look as new as he had before. I know he won't. He will be clean again, yes. But he won't be like new again. And that thought makes me sad.

It stops me, this thought. And I just sit there, with Manni Bear driping water all down the side of the tub, and look at him, and think about all he will experience as the bedtime companion of a little girl. All the tears, the sweat, the drool, and yes, probably more tee tee. But that's part of it, isn't it? That's the cost of being the beloved stuffed friend of a child. It will just make her love him all the more for it.

I know, you see, because my own stuffed childhood bear is my most precious, irreplacable possession. When I think about saving things from house fires, he is number one. I'm in fact so terrified of losing him to a fire that I pack him in my suitcase whenever we go on overnight trips. Strange for a grown woman? Yes. I am aware of this. Also, unashamedly not sorry.

This whole experience scrubbing up Manni Bear and tossing him in the dryer on the delicate cycle so he can be loved tightly against Maylin's warm little body made me remember this passage from The Velveteen Rabbit. Remember it? Probably the most defining paragraphs ever written in regards to the identity of a child's toy.

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit...

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real... It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

So yes, Manni Bear's fur will be a bit more coarse, not as lustriously shiny, and perhaps a few threads fewer, but that will only serve to define him as Maylin's favorite bear. Manni Bear, welcome to life.

{Motherhood} Spoken Blessings

Recently I've become increasingly aware of the power of words. Not just the written word, with which I've always had a love affair, but also the power of spoken words. Particularly the power of positive truth spoken directly to yourself or directly to someone else. Words have a way of affecting us like little else does, especially if we hear the same words or are presented with the same idea repeatedly. We begin to believe those words, live those words. They become a part of our psyche, sometimes almost impossible to shake {body image, anyone?}.

Not long ago I participated in a Bible study led by Priscilla Shirer, which was not really about blessings or words at all, but during a particular video segment she mentioned her habit of speaking Scripture in the form of a blessing over her three sons. I was intrigued. I had not ever really heard of this before. Memorizing Scripture, yes. Reciting Scripture, yes. Writing Scripture, yes. But using it as a blessing spoken over someone? It was a little foreign to me. The concept is that she would routinely, several times a day, like when dropping her kids off at school or before bedtime, repeat parts of Scripture to her boys that she wanted them to believe was especially true for their lives. She mentioned that though her oldest is still in elementary school, he and his younger brothers could all repeat this blessing to her because she'd said it so often to them. The idea was fascinating to me. I loved it. And I wanted to do it for my girls.

After a little bit of thought, and not really much direction, I settled on saying a Hebrew blessing from the book of Numbers to Maylin {this was before Hartlie was born} as I rocked her to sleep. It was a short verse: The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord make His face shine on you and be gracious to you. The Lord look upon you with favor and give you peace. {Numbers 6:24-26} It was a good blessing and I liked the cadence of the words, but after a while it didn't seem to be enough. I wanted more. This is not to imply that any part of God's Word is not "enough," because it absolutely is, all the time and in every circumstance. It's just that I wanted to put a bit more thought and effort into choosing what to say over my daughters. Especially after Hartlie was born, I began to desire a specific blessing for each of my girls, something that would be meaningful to them individually.

I began to really consider what truths I wanted Maylin and Hartlie to know and believe in their very core. I looked ahead to what their future might hold- to the teenage years, onto college, through marriage, and careers, and children, and potential heartbreak and probable tragedies. I thought about their individual personalities, the little quirks and nuances that set them apart from each other. I pondered the meaning of their names, and how amazingly through no fault of my own, the meanings of their names happen to fit right in with their personalities. I thought about what lies they might be faced with and what lies they might come to believe about themselves. And then I turned around and thought about my Lord, about His personality, His character traits, His promises. What about Him do I feel is essential for Maylin and Hartlie to know? And not just know, but believe as absolute, unshakable truth? Then I began to search the Bible, marking down meaningful verses, underlining certain phrases, making a list of passages I wanted to include. 

After some time, I landed on my spoken blessing for each of my girls. I finished Maylin's first, and have been saying it to her for many months. I speak it over her after our bedtime story, as we're either rocking or lying in the teepee, chest to chest and heart to heart. It's the final words I speak to her before she goes to sleep, and it's become such a routine that now when I begin speaking her blessing, she quiets down, her little body relaxes, and she listens. It's the final sleep cue.

I finished compiling Hartlie's blessing this week after waiting for her own personality to emerge. I will speak it to her for the first time tonight, as I'm giving her her final bottle with the lamp off, chest to chest and heart to heart.

An unexpected, but wonderful result of compiling and saying these blessings to my girls is that I have read and written and spoken them so often that I now have them memorized. And it's quite amazing how much these words, with which I started out intending to bless my daughters, have actually blessed me as well. I'm sharing them below.

For Maylin, my strong little warrior::

You are a woman of strength and dignity, a woman who speaks words of wisdom and kindness. You are confident and can joyfully laugh without fear of your future. {Proverbs 31:25-26} No weapon that Satan tries to use against you will ever succeed in doing you harm, for this is your inheritance as a daughter of God. {Isaiah 54:17} God is in the midst of you, my strong little warrior, surrounding you, you shall not be moved. God's help will rise at the break of day, as the morning dawns. {Psalm 46:5} Therefore, my strong little warrior, be strong in the Lord and in the full strength of His might. Put on the full armor of God so that you can stand firm against the schemes of Satan. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against forces of darkness and wickedness. {Ephesians 6:10-12} But you have already conquered all of these things through Christ who loves you. For I am convinced from the depths of my soul that nothing, neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor powers, nor things that are happening to you today, nor things that will happen to you in the future, nor depth nor height, nor anything that has been created can ever separate you from God's love in Jesus Christ. {Romans 8:37-39} 

This is my prayer and this is my blessing. I love you. Amen.

For Hartlie, my peaceful favored one::

You are a woman of strength and dignity, a woman who speaks words of wisdom and kindness. You are confident and can joyfully laugh without fear of your furture. {Proverbs 31:25-26} You are blessed, my little peacemaker , for you are a daugher of God. {Matthew 5:16} The Lord is your Keeper and He is a shade to the closest parts of you. Nothing under the sun will not smite you by day, nor will anything under the moon harm you by night. The Lord will protect you from all evil and will keep your soul. The Lord guards your every move from now through the rest of your life. {Psalm 121: 5-8} Therefore, my little peacemaker, let your light shine in front of all people in such a way that you illuminate your Father in heaven, so that you shine as a light in the darkness. {Matthew 5:16, Philippians 2:15} For the mountains may be removed and the hills may shake and fall, but the Lord's lovingkindness will not be removed from you and His faithful promise of peace will not be shaken, for He has great compassion for you. {Isaiah 54:10}
This is my prayer and this is my blessing. I love you. Amen.

Note:: I also wrote a little bit more here about praying Scripture.

{I have taken a few liberties with the verses by paraphrasing my blessing, but I believe I have not compromised the integrity or meaning of each Scripture.}

{Recap} The Pumpkin Patch

Can I indulge you in a few {more} pictures of some time spent at the pumpkin patch?

Great! Here we go!

I took over 200 photos of these two girlies and am happy to report that I have culled this post down to a mere 35. {You're welcome.}

Before we get too deep into November and everyone starts playing Christmas music and stringing twinkle lights and posting holiday gift guides, I want to imprint this little slice of fall onto the World Wide Web.

I've so enjoyed this fall season with my girls, from the cool breezy weather to the homemade apple cider, from the Halloween books we've read to the candy corn we've shared. It's been precious. And memorable. And if it stayed fall all year long that'd be okay with me. I really don't want it to end! 

Hopefully fall has been going your way, too! Just a few more weeks of pumpkins and colorful leaves before tinsel and fir, around here at least anyway since I don't start celebrating Christmas until after Thanksgiving. Each to her own. 

Okay, without further ado. Enjoy!

{Hello Pumpkins}

{Sister Act}

{The Evolution of a Smile}

{Front Porch Charm}

{Smile, Girls..... and Nope}

{Sister Act II}

{Walk With Me}

{Bribing} or {The Struggle is Real}

{You Are My Sunshine}

{You Make Me Happy When Skies Are Gray}

{Miss Maylin} Suddenly

I feel I'm a pretty positive person in general, but for some reason my writing tends to lean toward the melancholy. I don't know why this is, but for some reason I do my best writing when my mood is less than sunny. I tend to write about the hard things. And often. It's just easier for me than writing about the great things. 

But!

I don't want to look  back on my blog and read about only the hard, difficult, less than perfect times in my life, in motherhood. {I'm sure you don't either!} I want there to be some sunshiny posts smattered along the way, too. 

Because it is. My life is super sunny. A "charmed life," as one of my dear friends once labeled it. I'm reminded of that more and more often as news gets more and more grim. I am blessed. I am fortunate. I have so, so much to be thankful for.

And one of those reasons {and a very BIG one at that!} is sitting right there in that rocking chair on our front porch. 

I love her. It will be forever astonishing to me how quickly children develop. On one day, she's not doing something, is completely disinterested in it. The next day, the very next day, she will have mastered it. Not thanks to any help I've given her along the way. She just does it.

Like sitting in this rocking chair, for instance. We play outside on this front porch a lot. Mainly because our back yard is carpeted with pine needles and dog poop, and who wants to play in that? Um, not me. And our front yard is just more open and sunny and clean. I'll sit in the rocking chair while Maylin plays on the steps or carries the pumpkins around. We'll blow bubbles or balance on stumps or say "ah ah" with flat palmed hands to bugs. A jolly time is had by all.

Not once has Maylin been interested in sitting in the rocking chair. Until one day she was. And in that very moment that she was interested in it, she put her little feet on the bottom rungs and climbed up all by herself. She stretched out her two arms to reach the armrest and started rocking back and forth, back and forth. All by herself. I wasn't even in the vicinity. I was on the other side of the porch. She did it all by herself.

My mama heart was so proud. And so pleased. And so surprised. And in such amazement at the versatility of my daughter's learning. Yes, she's learning to talk, and eat at the table, and that no means no means no. But she's also learning to climb. Learning to make decisions and take risks. Learning to take what she's seen someone else do and do it for herself. 

She's learning to be a human. 

It comes in stops and starts. It comes in pieces and parts. But that learning, it comes. Some days it feels like I've been trying to teach her the same thing for weeks. Other days she's mastered a milestone in a matter of minutes. Suddenly, it's there.

Suddenly, she's sitting in the rocking chair looking at me with that sweetly coy expression.

Suddenly she's saying "Mama" and "please" and "down."

Suddenly she's done with being rocked to sleep and wants to go to bed by herself.

Suddenly.

I'm learning to greet "suddenly" as a great friend, to welcome it rather than lament it. And surprisingly, suddenly, that's an okay thing with me.