{Recap} A Few of My Favorite

...Things from our summer.

It's been a hot minute since I posted. I really can't belive August is here, school is about to start, and summer is coming to an end. Where did the time go? I realize I've been under the blanket of newborn caretaking, but I can't really claim that excuse now that she's over 2 months old. The newborn phase has passed, and I'm slowly starting to emerge into the light that is real life.

Despite nursing a baby every two hours, there have been several memorable moments from our summer. Looking back through my camera roll I was able to see evidence that yes, we did live this summer, and yes, we did do some "quintessential" summer activities. Here are my faves.

Daily Mail Runs

I realize I've posted about our mails run on my Insta many and much and over and over. But really, when this girl gets this much joy and entertainment from walking up and down the driveway on the daily, I just can't help it. Can't stop won't stop, sorry not sorry, and all of that.

Picnics at the Park

We love our little parish park with all the love a stir-crazy family with a newborn and toddler can love. There are trails to walk, ducks to feed, tables on which to picnic, playgrounds to explore, and photo opportunities galore. And it's the perfect way to spend a couple hours on a Saturday morning. Which we have done quite often. We pack up the The Bus {aka double stroller, aka impossible-to-lift, heaviest-baby-necessity-ever}, throw some snacks in a bag, fill our water bottles, grab some hats, and we're off. Maylin is entertained and Hartlie sleeps through it all.

Backyard Pool

On a whim, we bought Maylin a little inflatable pool for the backyard. We've used it only once, but she loved the heck out of it. The fact that it's shaped like a puppy is the greatest thing ever, and even now every time we pass through the garage where it's stored she pants like a dog and points at it.

Easy Like Sunday Mornin'

One of the results of having a new baby is that we stay home on Sundays rather than going to church for several weeks. Once the babies have been vaccinated, then we reappear and drop them in the church nursery. Until that time, Sundays are laaaaa-zy for the Davis household. We lounge in the bed, take our time making breakfast, watch the sermon from the previous week on the local chanel, and eventually shower in time for lunch. Maybe.

Sunday mornings on a regular basis are pretty hectic and rushed as we all get ready and get out the door in time for church, so this little hiatus was nice. This week will be our first Sunday back in the groove, and I'm already a little freaked about getting both girls ready in time. Whoever coined the phrase "easy like Sunday morning" obviously never went to church with children.

Hartlie Smiles

{no words necessary}

Downtown Delights

Our downtown area is just about as charming as you can get, especially since our city has recently spent a great amount of effort renovating it. More and more businesses are moving in, and it's become quite the little local hotspot for Saturday afternoons. We've spent more than one Saturday afternoon visiting the little shops and walking the sidewalks. We stopped in at our favorite cupcake boutique the other day and treated ourselves. They even had a paleo maple bacon cupcake that was dairy-free. Score! 

So, that's our summer in a nutshell! Or, what I remember of it anyway. We're going to finish it out strong with a few more trips to the park and maybe a cupcake or two. Hope your summer pretty fantastic, too!

{Oh, and while you're at it, check out what Judith and baby Alice did this summer, too!}

{Miss Maylin} Peach Pickin'

There's a pretty little peach tree in our backyard that some thoughtful someone planted before we bought our house. Michael and I know nothing about fruit trees, nor do we really have the time or desire to devote to caring for them, so we've pretty much left this little tree to its own business. It's a friendly little tree, and I enjoy looking out the back window and watching its leaves waving back at me.

Despite anything {nothing?} we've done, our tree has mustered up all its fruit-bearing will and produced a small amount of wormy peaches for us two years in a row. Last summer we were able to salvage some pretty decent-sized ones that I froze and made into baby food for Maylin. This year, unfortunately, the worms got to them before we did, and the peaches didn't get very big before falling off the tree.

It made a pretty big mess in the back yard, and while I enjoyed seeing the birds and squirrels eat their fill, I felt it was time to do a little picking up. Hence, peach picking {from the ground}. Inspired by my husband who entertained Maylin with this activity the night before, I laid Hartlie down for a nap, grabbed a bowl, and ushered Maylin out the door.

She was entertained for a little bit, but then decided sitting at the bottom of the slide was more to her liking. I can't say I blame her. And who am I to complain about the perfect spontaneous photo opportunity? Never, never, never complaining about that.

{Real Mom Life} Self Denial

Motherhood is one long college course in which I attend class all day, every day. Except rather than sitting in a desk dilligently taking notes in my pristine, unwrinkled notebook with my brand new gel pen that assists in creating the perfect curly-qs on my Ys, I'm hip deep in the messy, grungy middle of it all taking field notes in a damp, tattered journal with fly-away pages and a dull stub of a pencil with no eraser. In other words, though I'm learning daily, I'm barely hanging on by the seat of my pants and only just managing to digest and commit to memory what I've learned. 

My newest revelation has come from hard-won daily battles. I should rephrase that. Hard-fought daily battles. Not won. Never won. {When do parents start winning?} And the revelation is as follows:: 

If motherhood could be summed up in two words it would be this-- Self Denial.

Always, relentless, day in and day out, never stopping, never ending self denial. {Can I get an amen?}

It's been a hard lesson to learn. I've been resistant. Very resistant. I haven't wanted to accept this fact. I haven't wanted to have this realization. I haven't wanted to come to this conclusion. But it is real and it is true. Motherhood is drenched in self-denial.

There are many things that I want to do that I don't, or can't, or decide against. 

For example, the other weekend Michael came in from a weekend away canoeing. We'd been apart- he with his buddies, I enjoying a stay at my parents' home- and all I wanted was to spend the evening cuddled on the couch listening to stories about his adventures. I wanted uninterrupted alone time with my husband after a weekend away. What we got instead was a chaotic meal of reheated leftovers, a very loud, splashy bathtime, an exhausted toddler howling that she was exhausted, and a newborn wailing that she was hungry {again}. By the time Maylin was in bed and Hartlie had been nursed {again}, Michael and I were both flat on our backs on seperate couches barely able to keep our eyes open, let alone form coherent sentences used in the types of conversations that make up quality time. 

Last night, I wanted to soak in a warm, sudsy bath complete with fragrant bath salts, a good book, and that expensive goat's milk soap under my bathroom cabinet. But again, supper time, nurse time, bath time, story time, bed time, nurse time, pump time all kind of took priority. So I settled for a hasty shower in which I didn't shampoo my hair and bathed with Johnson and Johnson baby wash. 

I want to spend a good hour every morning at the gym chipping away at this baby weight. I want to get dressed before 10:00 AM in something other than a milk-stained t shirt. I want the time to vacuum the living room rug and fold a load of laundry before it wrinkles beyond the power of the dryer's "fluff" cycle. I want to sleep past 6:00 on the weekend, snuggled deep under the covers with my husband, never mind the uninterrupted night of sleep from the night before. I want a good, stout margarita. {With the expensive tequila, please and thank you.}

But, alas, none of those things are happening at this phase in my life. 

I'm not saying that I'll deny myself these things forever. It's just during this phase of my life, and my children's lives, there are certain things that take priority over what I want to do. When I became a parent it's like my wants and needs traded places with the wants and needs of another person. Instead of putting myself first, I automatically put my babies first. For the first time in my life I think of others more often than myself, even if sometimes it's with gritted teeth and a pounding head. {After typing those sentences I realized this probably should have started with marriage instead of with kids. Sorry, Michael! I do think this seflessness is carrying over into my relationship with my husband, and hopefully will continue to spread outward.}

Adapting to mom life is hard. I hadn't fully accepted my role as a mother before we discovered we were expecting Hartlie, so at times I feel as if I've been hit with a double-whammy. And putting aside what I want to do in leui of caring for my babies and making sure their needs are met has been one of the most difficult changes to come to terms with. Maybe it's not that hard for everybody, but for me it's been a struggle.

One thing I do know. I want to mother my girls and I want to do it well. I want to be present in their lives. I want them to feel emotional stability and security. I never want them to wonder if mom is listening, or if she cares, or if they're second place {with the exception of their father} to whatever it is I'm doing. For the short term, it may be inconvenient to "sacrifice" my long baths, uninterrupted reading {or blogging!} time, and a favorite adult beverage or two. But in the long term, I will look back upon these early years when my babies are still babies, and rather than seething over not getting to polish my nails while listening to Grant Terry, I'll fondly cherish the memory of Winnie-the-Pooh replaying {over and over and over} while tickling my toddler with one hand and cuddling a nursing babe with the other.

Motherhood is drenched in self-denial, yes. But it's also dripping with an indescribable sweetness.

Please don't misunderstand this post as a rant about not loving my children or not loving being a mom. You can read posts here, here, here, and here that prove otherwise. I'm merely documenting honest feelings. 

Also, it took me three days of single-handed finger pecking to type this post, in which I wrote during a toddler's dwindling naptime and a newborn's lengthening nursing session. Self-denial in it's purest form right here. 

{Sweet Hartlie} An Introduction

Hartlie Anne has been living and breathing and wriggling in our arms and warming our hearts for a little over a week, and I'm finally starting to feel the reality of having two children. Two daughters.

Not a day has gone by that I haven't marveled over Hartlie. I suppose I expected every baby of ours to be exactly like Maylin, probably because that's all I've known. {Of course, I should've known that no baby could be exactly like the personality that is Maylin.} I'm continually astounded by how different Hartlie is from what I expected. 

She is calm and serene. She is relaxed and content. She is not bothered by the noise of toddler screams or the constant pat pat of chubby toddler hands on her face, feet, back, belly. The ebb and flow of noise that surrounds the daily activities of our household have yet to interrupt her naps or distract her while she's nursing. 

Hartlie is a snuggler. The closer she can be to a warm body the happier she is, which leads to long nursing sessions for the two of us. Surprisingly, this hasn't bothered my mobile, independent, fiery Maylin a single bit. Occasionally Maylin will want to sit next to me while I'm nursing, but more often than not she's more interested in pounding the hardwood on newfound legs or packing and repacking the old diaper bag with blocks and miniature Winnie the Poohs. And Hartlie nurses on, one hand cupped by her cheek {which I find endearing because Maylin had that same habit} one hand on my chest, eyes closed and expression peaceful.

Since she's such a good nurser {Maylin and I struggled a great deal with breastfeeding}, Hartlie has been sleeping long stretches at night in the portable crib by our bed. I mean like, 3+ hour stretches of nighttime sleep. This is uncharted territory for me so early in the newborn stage because it was weeks and weeks before Maylin ever slept that long in a single stretch, be it day or night. I dreaded nighttime most when Maylin was in the early stages. When dusk started creeping in, I'd get a sick, queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach knowing that I was about to spend the entire dark night amidst fitful nursing sessions, unraveled swaddle blankets, and an almost hourly mewl from my Maylin, all by the light of a bedside lamp and accompanied by all the loneliness and uncertainty a first time mother feels in the wee hours of the mornings.

This time around has been different. Whether it's the difference in the personalities of my girls or the quasi-experience of a second time mom, I'm not quite sure. I've actually been going to sleep at the same time my husband goes to sleep. I'm getting decent stretches of uninterrupted sleep in between the few times Hartlie wants to nurse. I wake up when my alarm goes off at 5:00 feeling sufficiently rested and mentally prepared to face the day. I pull on my robe, brew my coffee, and sit down to pump with my Bible and a pen before the next nursing session around 6:00. It's amazing how much more ready I am to greet my days when I'm not dreading my nights.

Now that Hartlie is here, our family feels full to the brim. I mentioned this briefly on Instagram, but before Hartlie was born I was secretly fearful I wouldn't love her with the same intensity with which I love Maylin. How could I possibly love two people as fiercely as I love Maylin? Surely Hartlie would get the short stick. Surely my heart wasn't capable of it. 

Oh. But it is. 

To all the second-time-parents-to-be {and I have a hunch more than a few feel exaclty how I did}, you needen't be afraid of not having enough love to go around. My heart has expanded to twice its size, capable, willing, ready, and involuntarily loving both my children, my first and my second, with equal force.

Before Hartlie, when it was just the three of us, Michael, Maylin, and myself, our lives seemed complete. Our lives were complete at that time. But now with Hartlie here, it's like a layer we didn't know existed before has been added to our lives. A layer that makes everything more full, more joyful, more right.

We gave Hartlie the middle name of Anne for many reasons, not the least of which is its meaning: The Lord Has Favored Me.

Yes, little girl, your arrival is proof. The Lord has favored us indeed. 

Meet Hartlie

Hartlie Anne Davis

6 lbs 15 oz

19 1/2 inches long

Born at 12:03 PM

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Full birth story to come, but for now we are resting and soaking in every detail of this short-lived newborn phase. Sweet Hartlie, welcome to our family.

{This Moment} Sunsets and Larkspur

{Miss Maylin} Never Stop Being You

Dear Maylin,

Here we are. 14 months old. A toddler. What? When? Did this happen? You're growing up. Maturing. Moving on. Transitioning. Coming into your own skin. It's thrilling to witness. If there's one thing I've learned during motherhood, it's to cherish each phase of your life. They come and go so quickly. The changes happen so subtly. If I'm not paying attention, you'll have moved on without my even realizing it. The quirk will have passed, the obsession will be over {remember green ring?}, the expression will have morphed; the coo will have become a syllable, the syllable a word. That's okay. That's the way it's supposed to be. You're supposed to grow up and mature and transition. I'm not faulting you for that. I'm celebrating you for it. I never want my sentimentality to hold you back.

Never did I expect to be so enamoured by a 14 month old toddler. It's still strange to type the word toddler in relation to you, because in my mind you're still a teeny, two week old baby; I think of you as a cooing 4 month old baby; I see you as a smiling, giggling 9 month old baby. It's hard to fathom that you've become a toddler of over a year old. 

Maybe that's what parents mean when they refer to their 18 year olds as their "babies." You're stored up in my mind with so many precious memories at different stages of "baby" that it can cloud my real life view of you as the age you actually are.

So.

Before I forget without even knowing I've forgotten, there are some things I want to remember about you, my Maylin, at 14 months old.

Oh Maylin. My multi-faceted little girl. Where even to begin? At 14 months old you are full of such fire, such spirit, such charisma. I never expected to be able to tell by your facial expressions or your gestures what you're thinking and feeling, without you uttering one word of communication. 

Your're independent, feisty, and insistent {especially at mealtimes}, yet simultaneously so, so sweet, tender, and sensitive to the emotions of others. You're willing to try new things, yet just cautious enough to not be reckless. 

Your laugh is infectious. Your smile is contagious. Your mood colors the whole household. Oh how great is the hold you have over us.

You love to be loved. You love to be doted on, to have attention focused on yourself. Bedtime and naptime are some of my favorite moments together because you allow me to cuddle, snuggle, and hold you closely as we rock, rock, rock. That being said, the hour that I cook supper is probably the least favorite time of my day, and yours too, because you are perceptive enough to know my attention is elsewhere. You cling to my ankles and follow me around the kitchen, wailing and staring up at me with large crocodile tears, reaching for me to pick you up, and no amount of distraction can lure you away. It's that time of day we both have to grin and bear through until it's over. 

You're very independent now. You have a "do it myself" attitude that I find both endearing and infuriating. It makes my heart swell with pride while at the same time breaking it with a longing to help. Which is another thing I've learned about motherhood: it's full of conflicting emotions.

Your understanding of the word "no" is impeccable. You are fully aware that "no" means to not do something, stop, not to touch that. Yet you don't always make the decision to adhere to its meaning. You make externally obvious the inner battle waging within, shaking your head "no" while crawling toward the dog bowl, knowing you're not supposed to touch it yet giving in to the temptation anyway. It's a perfectly innocent example of what grown-ups do in real life every day.

You're such a little walker now, Maylin. It warms my heart to watch. You toddle around, falling often, but just as often getting back up and trying again. You have yet to be stunted by something you "couldn't do." Another favorite time of the day is when we walk down the driveway to the mailbox to pick up the mail. I always looked forward to walking with you hand-in-hand, strolling along together, but in reality I can forget the hand-in-hand part! You very insistently walk by yourself. And surprisingly, I'm okay with following a few steps behind you, marveling and chuckling at the way your little legs churn and your arms help you keep balance.

You pick up on things easily. You're a quick learner. My former teacher-self is so proud. It doesn't take you long to comprehend or mimic {which your daddy and I are finding is not always a good thing} or repeat or remember. You're tenacious, determined, task-focused. 

Maylin, although you're just over a year old, you- petite, bald-headed you, are the most inspiring, profound, and effective teacher I've ever had. You have taught me the meaning of love- true, sacrificial love that knows no limits or boundries and makes me want to laugh for the joy of it and cry over tenderness of it. Daily you teach me and challenge me to live the traits of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. I am realizing those traits have never applied to me more than in this season of mothering a toddler. I'm certain God meant for them to be applied most specifically to mothers! I am trying to be thankful to you, Maylin, for helping me hone these traits on a daily hourly basis. 

When I sat down to write this post I had a list of facts I thought made up you. Like, your favorite food is bananas and guacamole {thankfully, not together!}; you just got two new top teeth; you're obsessed with wearing the string of pearls from my jewelry box; you make the sounds of a puppy, cow, monkey, and elephant; you blow air every time you see a jar of bubbles. But from the first keystroke I realized these are not the traits that make you who you are. They are merely a product of who you are. You do these things because of your personality, attitude, tendencies, and character. 

Oh, and one final comment. You and Deuce? Keep working your charm on him by bringing him sticks. He'll quickly become your BFF. I just know it.

 I love you, my Maylin. It is my fervent prayer you never stop being you.