bathtime with Bennett

As I was going through some of the pictures I had uploaded, intending to use them for blogs, I realized two things: one, I am woefully behind and shall never properly catch up. two, Bennett already looks so much older and less like a baby from these pictures (sobsob, sniffsniff), which were taken maybe three months ago. So, yes, these are old pictures, in baby-time (they grow and change much too quickly)... but I want to use them anyway, because bathtime with him as a baby is one of those things that I want to remember and be able to look back upon here on this blog o' mine.

 

(please pardon the fact that these are all different colors and styles, and all a bit blurry. I just happened to have my phone in there with me, and wasn't about to leave the room for a minute in order to get my better camera, even though our bathroom lighting is less than perfect for phone pictures. Safety first!)

 

This boy loves his bath. Something about being in the water makes him so happy. Silly. Gleeful.

 There are nights when I really can't help but feel like giving him a bath is the last thing I want to do... I'm tired, I'm done, I'm just ready for all the kids to be in bed, it's been a long day. And I'll be honest, he doesn't have a bath every night. But some nights, he desperately needs one (boys, even little boys, can be so dirty and stinky!), and so I'm left with no choice. Into the tub he goes.

 

The really wonderful thing is that as soon as his little bum hits that water and he begins to splash and play and chew on toys and washcloths, I find myself loving bathtime just as much as him. 

 

 

No worries, no cares, no exhaustion, just lots of smiles and giggles and noisy yells of delight (his, not mine). He slaps and splashes the water, he stands up by the edge and we play peekaboo. He gasps and then grins as I pour water over his head, I grin at the sight of his chubby roly-poly thighs and adorable baby bum. (he's really going to love this blog someday, isn't he? Sorry, son.)

 

My very favorite part of bathtime is when I take him out and wrap him in his big blue polka-dot towel, and he snuggles up to my shoulder as I carry him out of the bathroom, his face peeking out from the hood like some little parka-wearing eskimo, his eyelashes still wet and dark, his skin smelling of baby wash. Is there anything more wonderful-smelling than a freshly-bathed baby? I maintain that there is not.

 

 Someday, probably all too soon, he won't be a baby anymore and baths like this will cease to exist. So, until that day, I will enjoy every splash and smile in the tub, even at the end of a long day.

Bathtime with Bennett. It's another one of those funny little things that's good for the soul. :)

sometimes...

...I walk around all day singing bits and pieces of Disney songs. I tell myself it's for the kids (because I'm convinced that they LOVE it. They do. I know they do.), but really, I just like thinking I sound like a princess.

...I want to make a box of Kraft macaroni and cheese, and then eat the whole thing, all by myself. I've never actually done it. But someday I think I will.

...I like to add sparkles (I know, "bokeh" is the proper term, but to me they look like sparkles, so sparkles they shall be) to random pictures on my phone. This is why photo apps are wonderful....just look how beautiful it makes every picture! It works on everything!
Kids!

Pets!

Nature!

Even food!

(this is a joke, in case you couldn't tell. sparkles do not belong on any of these.)
(ok, FINE. so that third one is currently my phone background. I really do love it.)

...I stay up much later than I should, just because it's quiet and I'm free to do whatever I want, and somehow going to bed feels like I'm giving up something precious. Unfortunately, come morning and all its demands, I always wish I HAD gone to bed. One would think I'd learn.

...I find myself craving more simplicity. And nature. Maybe a picnic and books on a blanket with my little ones, somewhere in a clearing in the middle of the woods, flowers and bees and babbling brooks and sunshine all included. Sigh.

...I play the songs from Pride and Prejudice on the piano and I imagine Mr. Darcy walking towards me across a field in the early morning light. (it's ok, my dear husband knows about my thing with Mr. Darcy... besides, it's a pretty common affliction among women, I think.)

...I just go ahead and put Bennett in the dog crate when he's causing too much trouble.

(CHILL OUT, I'M KIDDING. He just happened to crawl in there one day while I was putting on makeup around the corner, and like any sensible mother these days would do, I took a picture before I pulled him out and let him go on his free and merry way.)

...I wish I had unlimited time to pour into the people in my life. There's a lot of wonderful ones, and sometimes I feel woefully inadequate when it comes to loving them.

...I find it very easy to trust God. And sometimes, not so much. I'm so glad He doesn't depend on me for His plan to be fulfilled, because things would be a mess, otherwise.

...I have a good hair/makeup/outfit day. When this happens, I take a picture or two to document it. And then I send it to my dear sister Jerusha in Denver, since I know she loves to see my face randomly pop up on her phone (highlight of her day, I'm sure. obviously.) Besides, then I feel like my picture isn't going to waste! (does any of this make me vain??)

...I remember that I have a blog and that the purpose of having a blog is to post on it. Like today!
hello, internet world!! So glad we could reconnect for a wee bit. :)

three girls and a boy.

Have you ever noticed that the mere fact of having children invites people to talk to you when you are out and about?

 

It's true. When it's just little ol' me out running errands, no one even notices me. I stand in a checkout line and the chances of someone striking up a conversation with me are slim to none. I can peruse the home decor aisle at Target with nary a backward glance from a stranger. I can sit at Starbucks and practically be invisible, just another person drinking their favorite coffee drink.

But add my four children into the mix, and suddenly, I am glaringly obvious. I get comment after comment, from sweet nostalgic old people to young twenty-somethings who usually look slightly relieved that it's not them shopping with four kids in tow. Other moms with their hands full give me a nod and a smile and speak a word as we maneuver our carts and kids past each other. Solidarity, sista!

 

I don't mind this sort of thing at all. Really, I am the type of  gal who will happily chat with any random person. Usually, I'm the one who tries to strike up a friendly convo with the person behind me in line. I love talking to people, and I like to say things like "oh, I love your boots!" or, "your hair is gorgeous, how do you get it so shiny?" (yes, I'm a wee bit awkward, I'm sure.)

Quite often, I am thankful for the comments I get when out with my children:

"My, you have your hands full!" (The most frequent. I don't mind this one, because, well, I do.)

"Oh, this brings me back... cherish these days, they go by too fast."

"Cute kids. Looks like fun, mama!"

Most people are bright and positive, encouraging and friendly. I like that.

 

But every so often, you get a comment that really makes you stop and think, one that makes you wish afterwards that you had the chance to respond, the right words to say on the spot:

"Three girls and just one boy?! Oh, poor little guy. All those sisters to grow up with."

I've gotten variations of this one several times. And while I may not think to say something to whatever person is making it, this is what I wish I could say.



I have three daughters and a son. Just one son. A single solitary boy, the youngest of them all, and so he will grow up with THREE big sisters.

He gets to grow up with three sisters.
Three sisters who love him more than I can even properly put into words.
Three sisters who take delight in him and think he's the best thing ever... even when he's a little stinker.
Three sisters who show him affection and tell him how great he is every single day.

These girls will be the first women in his life, the ones who will love him first and most fiercely for a long time.
He will grow up with a front-row seat to the ins and outs and ups and downs of being a girl. (I'm hoping and praying that he will learn from this how to treat a lady and be a gentleman, and that someday he will make an even better husband because of it.)
Sure, there will probably be times in his life when he'll wish he had a brother, or at least maybe not all these sisters. (after all, siblings will be siblings.)

But I think God knew what He was doing when He planned our family just the way it is.
And I think it's pretty cool that our boy gets to grow up with three of his very own personal cheerleaders. Three little ladies to root for him and watch out for him and let him know just how special he is.

these pictures were taken a couple months ago when Bennett was first figuring out how to pull himself up to standing. Emma and Annabelle and Rosalie were amazed and thrilled by his latest accomplishment and literally cheered him on as he climbed up and fell down, only to climb up again. Such a sweet moment for this mama to watch.

like the rain to the earth.

It's Friday.

The end of the week.

A long week.

Too little sleep, too many chores and commitments, too much mess, too much grumpiness, too little time to slow down and relax and breathe in deep, too many bad attitudes and missteps.

To be completely honest, I'm exhausted and tired, frustrated and snappish, feeling behind on EVERYTHING, overwhelmed. My house is a mess, the laundry is piled up, and the dog desperately needs a bath.

But, guess what?

It's springtime!

And it's very hard to stay grumpy or peevish for very long in the spring.

These pictures were from a few weeks ago, but my (sadly neglected) garden has offered up such lovely gifts of color and bloom lately, fragrant and soft and bright. They grace my table and my view from the window, using their charms to make my spirit bright and soft too.

As I type, my girls are out in the backyard digging in the dirt with trowel and hoe, scattering wildflower seeds and making, I'm sure, more of a mess with the hose than is really necessary. But they are happy, so I am happy, and as they plant and play, today's delicious breezes are blowing away any dismal dust left from the week, making us shiny and cheerful again.

 I always love this time of year in our city, these sparkling weeks between foggy cold and downright HOT. It's a time of year when everything is green and pretty, and the sun is welcoming and warm, the world just a little bit softer around the edges, framed in blossoms and blue skies. A time of gray clouds and rain-scented air followed by drops and puddles, everything fresh and clean and new for when the sun comes out again. I love the rain, and how overcast days of wet and cloud are mingled so closely with days of pure blissful sunshine.

We need the rain, just like we need the sunshine.

I came across this verse in Hosea a little while back, and it's so beautiful to me when I'm tired and beaten down, when I need to be reminded of what is important and how my God will always come through.

 

"Let us know,

Let us pursue the knowledge of the Lord.

His going forth is established as the morning.

He will come to us like the rain,

Like the rain to the earth."

Hosea 6:3

 

Just as the morning always comes, just as the rain always falls as a blessing and a benediction to the earth which needs it...

so will the Lord come to us.

 

and I, I will come to Him, again and again, and breathe in deep of His mercies and forgiveness and grace, and feel His spirit in my soul, sweeter even than the springtime.

 

 

Eight months.

Bennett-boy is 8 months old today!

(first things first, can we just acknowledge the fact that I'm writing this post on the ACTUAL DAY and not three weeks later? Thank you. I feel like one of those over-achievers right now.)

So, my boy, in honor of 8 months, here are 8 things about you at this age.

1. You are into everything. And I do mean ev.er.y.thing. There's nothing you love more than exploring and getting into something-- it thrills you to no end. I often hear you coming with that lightning-fast army crawl of yours (no hands and knees for you, you do it military-style) and see your little face peeking around a corner, ready for your next escapade into mischievousness.
peek-a-boo, mom, I found you!

 2. You love cheerios. Like, REALLY love cheerios. You love eating in general, actually, but cheerios are top notch in your book.

 3. You still don't sleep through the night on any regular basis, and sometimes I get up with you two, three, four times at night before I finally bring you a bottle to quiet your whining and crying at 4 or 5 in the morning. I'm at my wit's end and can't figure out what else to do in order to get you to sleep more soundly. I'd let you just cry it out, but then you keep EVERYONE awake. One of these nights, something has got to change. I love you, but, dude... PLEASE SLEEP.

4. Mommy is tired.

oops, that one is about me.
I do blame you for it, though, so.....

Good thing you're ridiculously cute.

5. Your eyes are blue, blue, blue. This contributes to the ridiculous cuteness that you possess. How I love those blue eyes, so like your daddy's and your big sister Emma's.

 6. Recently, you discovered how much fun it is to pull yourself up on things, and now your favorite thing to do is try to climb on and over anything and everything. Bookshelves, boxes, bins of toys, chair and table legs, your big wooden blocks... anything. As a result of this, you are constantly bumping your head, falling over, and generally banging yourself up. Last night you got your first fat lip, complete with blood. You daring little lad, you... it's nerve-wracking, sometimes. But I don't mind letting you try and watching you go, because when you successfully complete a maneuver, the look on your face and your shouts of joy at having conquered are totally worth it.

7. You are perfectly chubby and round in all the right places and not one of us can resist you. I could just gobble you up.

 8. You give us and anyone who will talk to you the best smiles.... such a happy boy you are during the day! Always, there you are, ready to laugh with that adorable grin on your face. (unless you're frustrated and being ignored, because then you get very mad really quickly and scream and cry to beat the band. But that would be #9, and I'm stopping at 8, so I won't mention that.)

Each day with this little man is an adventure and a blessing. Sometimes I still can't believe we have our very own boy! It still thrills me, especially as he gets older and I begin to see more and more of the boy in him.

Happy 8 months, Mister Bennett, we love you to bits and pieces!

oh, children. {Rosalie edition}



Normally, these posts feature all three of my girls, since they all say and do funny, silly things. But just this once, I thought I'd do one only about Rosalie. It's not that she's funnier than Emma or Annabelle, it's just that she's three-almost-four. And that, in case you didn't know, is a rather hilarious age. The things this girl says... oh lordy. She not only keeps me on my toes and drives me to distraction, she also keeps me laughing. I love her little voice throughout my day, and would bottle up all the fun things about this age and keep them forever, if I could. So, here is just a small taste of our Rosalie-roo and the funny she brings into our life.

The girls and I are making no-bake chocolate oatmeal cookies, and of course the most important part of making any kind of dessert together is the licking of the bowl and spoon at the end. Rosalie grabs the wooden spoon and licks off as much chocolate as she can. As she hands the spoon to one of her sisters, she rolls her eyes in ecstasy, clasps her hands in front of her, and sighs dramatically. "Oh, clock-ett (how she says "chocolate"), you are the best and I love you. Will you please marry me?"

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I'm helping Emma study for a history test, asking her questions to see how much she knows. Rosalie is nearby, having made herself comfortable in a laundry basket (yes, really), listening in to our conversation. Here's how it went.
Me: So, Emma, who founded the city of Detroit?
Emma: Ummm... you mean, like, which type of people, or someone specific?
Me: You know, was it the English, or the French, or the Indians, or...?
Rosalie: ....or the zombies, or the ghosteses (her plural for "ghosts"), or maybe pumpkins. No, no, not pumpkins. They're not really scary.

I'm not quite sure what she thinks Detroit is..... but her idea of history is quite intriguing, you must admit.

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She comes to me, crying. "What's wrong, baby?" I ask.
Through her tears she tells me, "I hurt!" When I ask her specifically where, she says "I think my heart hurts."
"Oh dear," I say, "that sounds serious! Why does it hurt?"
"Well, I might need to go poop."

I'm guessing she meant her stomach. Let's hope so.

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Rosalie is always coming to me and saying things that start with "when I get bigger..." or "when I grow up...". What follows is always sure to be very specific and usually entertaining. Here's just a few:
"....I'm going to wear high heels, like the black kind, and I will walk and it will make the clicking sound."
"...I will wear perfume and smell really good, like a mommy."
"...I'm going to be a fairy. Maybe a garden fairy like Rosetta. And I will dye my hair red."
"...I will ride a horse. Like, a really big one. It will go fast, and I won't even fall off."
"...I'll wear lip gloss whenever I want to, and I won't even need to ask." (the girl looooves her lip gloss.)
"...I'm going to be a princess. And I will have long hair, and always do it in a braid. Because princesses have long hair. Except... when Rapunzel's turned brown. But mine's not brown."
"...I will write letters and use a lot of stamps."
"...I want to grow flowers. And then I will paint them." (I'm thinking this has more to do with wanting to be a garden fairy than an aspiring artist. ha.)

I wish I could remember more of them... almost every day she has a new "when I get bigger" to add to her list. These aren't even the best ones!

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Rosalie likes to sing. In fact, she sings a lot. All day long, little snippets of songs, sometimes whole renditions with their own unique Rosalie twist. One of my personal favorites happened in the van one day on the way home from somewhere. I listened as she sang a very spot-on version of Jingle Bells (and no, this wasn't around Christmas-time), and then couldn't help but burst out laughing at her grand finish:
"....oh what fun it is to ride, in a one-horse open sleigh, CHICKEN NUGGETS!!!!!"

Every once in a while I throw that on the end of a song, just for fun. Try it sometime.

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One day, after we had finished reading our Bible story: "Um, I want to give God a hug. Can I?"

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Rosalie begged for raisins in her oatmeal one morning, since Emma had some. Then she decided after a few bites that no, she didn't like them after all. After proclaiming that they were simply "in her way", she grabbed a nearby piece of paper and pencil and passionately declared "I am going to write in letters that YOU MUST NOT EAT RAISINS!"

So there you have it. It has been declared and written, Rosalie has spoken. Raisins are an awful, evil thing and have now been forbidden.

(she actually really likes raisins and will happily eat a box of them. But apparently when joined with oatmeal, they become horrid and despised. I don't know.)

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Once when we were sitting on the couch I reached over and pinched her nose, just to mess with her. She pushed my hand away and calmly stated, "Mommy. You are going to make all my snot come out."

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That's it for now, as I've sat here racking my brain, trying to remember some of the other countless times she's cracked us up... I wish I would have been better about writing more of them down!

Because, seriously. This child. She's funny, bossy, argumentative, adorable, hilarious, stubborn, cute-as-can-be, sweet, affectionate, cuddly, naughty, loveable, frustrating, clever, and I can't fathom life without her.

And, I might add, thankgoodness for the moments like these that make me laugh with her, for they make everything else totally worth it. Lord knows I need them. :)

six months.

Bennett turned six months old on January 11.

say what???

January 11 was also my 29th birthday. Yes, it's true, I'm getting older too!

To celebrate the momentous occasion, we took pictures together in the bathroom mirror.

I am wearing a shirt that I returned to Forever21 the very next day, as it did not properly hide the squishy tummy roll that I still have from when I had a fourth baby... six months ago. One would think after six months it would be gone. But no, my tummy roll turned six months old too.

However, I did not come here to talk to you about my squishy tummy or the fact that I don't exercise like I should. I came here to talk about my boy, this sweet six-month-old of mine.

I was putting off writing this post because I kept meaning to get around to taking actual six-month pictures of him. You know, like with a real camera instead of my phone.
But that just wasn't happening.
And then I realized that perhaps it's perfect that his six-month post be populated only with phone pictures, because it speaks so well to how our life is right now: messy and imperfect with no time for a lot of things, but so incredibly full of amazing everyday moments and memories that sometimes those other things just don't even matter.
I want to blog about my son at six months and share those everyday moments, the way I get to see him each day... because he is growing and changing so quickly, as most babies do, and this age delights me for so many different reasons.

 

He sits up like a little pro now, and only falls over when he gets just a little too excited about something.

 

He is a wild-child, always into something, always playing and busy, bursting at the seams with energy and excitement and enthusiasm. In fact, when he's on the floor, it's very tricky to get a picture of him that isn't blurry. He's simply always moving, whether sitting up and banging wildly on whatever toy is near him, or on the floor using his army crawl that he has perfected. Soon I am sure he'll be a full-fledged crawler, since I see him up on his hands and knees rocking back and forth, but until then he manages to be quite the speedy little dude anyway. And he's already discovered the delights of the dog's water dish. oh boy.

 

Not too long ago I bought an orange rug to keep in front of our sliding glass door leading outside... and for some reason it has become his favorite place to play and hang out. I always see him headed for it once he's free on the floor, and he looks out the glass and rubs his dimpled little hands over the fuzzy patterns beneath him.

 

 

We've introduced solid foods on a grander scale now, and he loves them. When he eats, he is so eager and anxious for the next bite that he always reminds me of a little bird with his mouth open, just waiting for the food to come. And then he says "mmm" and happily bangs on his bumbo. Mealtimes are a happy, albeit messy, time of the day.

He continues to be the delight and source of entertainment for his loving big sisters, and wants to be right in the thick of things, always talked to and played with. We went to the park together a week or so ago, and Emma and Annabelle and Rosalie took turns pushing him in a swing for the first time. Smiles and giggles all around!

Of course, all this activity and play does actually make him tired, and I am incredibly thankful for the fact that he's started taking longer naps... usually at least one long-ish one, and sometimes two if it's a good napping day. And he's also finally just now started sleeping through the night again (the good Lord above be praised) after some very long months of him waking up consistently at 2, 3, or 4 in the morning. I cannot stress enough how happy this makes me. Honestly, I don't think I even realized just how tired I was until I got my first full night of sleep! Sleep is wonderful. I'm so very glad this boy is starting to realize that (even though he often fights it for all he is worth.)

 

He really is unbearably sweet and adorable when he sleeps. From the moment when he gets tired and starts to pull his blankie over his head and burrow into it, to when he is fast asleep and his cheeks are round and soft and velvet and his lips are squishydelicious and his chubby hands are rested and still, there is just something about him that I can't resist. Perhaps it's because when he is asleep I see more of the tiny baby in him, rather than the ever-growing little boy.

Whether he is awake or asleep, I can always recognize the treasure he is. He's a handful, he's a challenge, he takes up my days and sometimes my nights and leaves me with hardly a moment to spare.

And he brings more joy than words can say.

I am so grateful for my wee lad, so glad that God gave Jeremy and me this amazing son.

 

Happy six months, mister Bennett, you are one very beloved boy!