Fresh Starts and New Beginnings

Hey, so. If GoDaddy is going to keep billing me for this domain name, I should maybe use it, huh?

I don't really know what happened to this space. Well, I mean, I sort of do.

 

I spent nine months devoting most of my energy (mental, physical, emotional, spiritual) to carrying her in a 35-year-old body that does NOT do pregnancy well.

 

And then I've spent the last five months figuring out how to settle back into a season of life I've not seen in a long, long time.

 

My days are once again full of nursing and diapers, tummy time and babywearing, walks with a stroller and troubleshooting fussing and trying to catch a quick nap. Only this time around, they're also filled with listening to a beginning reader, signing math homework, driving to piano lessons and soccer practice. It's hard to find time or space to think my own thoughts, much less write them down. Especially when I'm desperately rusty, having all but forgotten how.

Today I have a babysitter. Three whole hours of a friend's homeschooled teenage daughter entertaining my baby so I can do whatever I want. Ha. Of course "whatever I want" looks like being paralyzed with anxiety about how best to use the three hours, knowing the time will fly by. It looks like fighting rejected insurance claims, calling orthodontists, attempting to summit Mount Laundry, and stressing about whether I'm going to end up paying the babysitter to be here while Miriam sleeps.

But, at least today, it also looks like sitting down to a blank screen and a blinking cursor and trying to remember how to do this writing thing. Let's be honest: this blog was dying a long, slow death for quite some time before Miss Miriam arrived on the scene. And yet, as a much-beloved writing professor reminded me years ago: "Thankfully, we are people of the resurrection!"

Just yesterday I came across this incredibly timely and encouraging post by Rebecca Reynolds at Thistle and Toad. She concludes:

...Now and then I can write an encouraging post for five people--or I can write a post for one person who is struggling.

I can wait to post until I have something important to say.

I can let the gospel apply small. I can let God be God and trust Him to place my labors in the context that is most useful to him.

I can live small then smaller still, encouraging my readers to do the same.  

I can do all this because the gift of writing doesn't offer an identity that springs into being with a publishing contract, or with a following in the 100’s of thousands. Writing well is simply a tool to utilize in the context of an identity that was secured long ago by the work of Jesus. We have nothing to earn; we have only to wake up each morning and say, "In every small step I take, Thy will be done."

So here's to fresh starts. Here's to tiny baby steps, the smallest of efforts in the right direction. Here's to awkwardness and imperfection and muscling through the anxiety to get something, anything, on the page. Hopefully I'll be back soon.

Handmade Baby

With a second baby, you don't need much. You already have all the gear, and if you're having the same gender (or if all of your newborn stuff is gender-neutral, as ours is), you don't even need clothes. So we were pretty much set in preparation for Jude's birth, but I had two main items on my wishlist. First, I wanted to try a different carrier. And second, I needed a new diaper bag. I ended up with some beautiful handmade items that I have been meaning to share here for several months!

As far as baby carriers go, you've probably heard me rave about the Ergo. We had one with Elijah and absolutely loved it. Steve loved it, I loved it...it was our number one must-have baby item. Seriously indispensable. I tried a pouch sling and a Moby wrap, but we preferred the Ergo by far. But this time around, I was still curious. I know so many people who love ring slings, especially for newborns. So I ordered one from an online friend:

It is simple, beautiful, well-made. You can order them via this Facebook page. She also made a pouch sling for Elijah, so he could carry his stuffed animals just like Mama carries Baby Jude:

Meanwhile, I found out that one of my dearest friends from high school has a pattern for ring slings, and she offered to make me one! So I found some fabric I liked and sent it to her--and less than a week later, despite having a newborn herself as well as two other kids under the age of four, she mailed me this:

Yeah, just call her Supermom. Love it!

But as fast as Jude grew, ring slings quickly became impractical. I know women who swear by them, even carry toddlers in them--but I just could not get it to work for me long-term. I wanted to keep wearing them, but my neck/shoulders/back felt otherwise. It seems I am just a soft-structured carrier kind of gal. Which is what the Ergo is, but I had another carrier to try out here as well. Much as I loved my Ergo, I'd also heard great things about other similar carriers, so I had gotten rid of my Ergo and bought a Kangapack.

Custom-made by a girl I know online and sold on Etsy, the Kangapack is very similar to an Ergo, but with a few key differences. Most notably, it's a lot less bulky. The waistband and shoulder straps are narrower, the carrier part is narrower and all the fabric is thinner/softer than the canvas Ergo. Still padded, just a lot more streamlined. Then, it's just a lot cuter :) You can even pick your own fabric (I found this aqua/green/brown stripe at JoAnn). FYI - I definitely wear Jude on my back now, for the most part; this photo was taken several months ago.

The carrier itself is basic, and then there are optional add-ons--I paid extra for a sleeping hood (essential, in my opinion) and a zippered pocket (super helpful when I don't want to carry a diaper bag--I can stuff keys, money and phone in my pockets and a couple of diapers/wipes in the carrier pocket). I still love the Ergo--there are pros and cons to both--but I especially love that this one packs up a lot smaller and goes on/fits my shoulders better. And, I know function is more important than style, but I like the looks of it a whole lot more :) Unfortunately the seamstress is a busy mama of four littles who isn't making them at the moment--I'm glad I got mine before she stopped!

My other needed item was a new diaper bag. I loved the messenger bag I had for Elijah, except that it was way too small, and the snap had broken. So I was on the lookout for a new and improved bag--and since I'm picky about bags, I asked my sister-in-law to make one for me. And did Michelle ever rise to the challenge!

I fell in love with Danielle's Amy Butler bag way before I got pregnant--I loved the style and the fabric and thought it would make a great diaper bag. (Danielle's photo is way more beautiful--I had nowhere to hang my bag to display it well!) Then I found out that the pattern actually *was* for a diaper bag. Michelle got the pattern and went with me to JoAnn to pick fabric, and then we made a bunch of modifications. The original bag seemed really wide and awfully shallow, so I had her make it narrower and deeper.

She lined it with six pockets and a cell phone pocket on the strap, a feature of the original bag (BRILLIANT)...and then she did all kinds of other custom features: a loop on which to clip my keys, a small pocket-within-a-pocket so my lip balm doesn't get lost at the bottom of a pocket, and a button closure.

Then she made me a pouch for diapers and wipes...and to top it all off, my mother-in-law surprised me by making a quilted changing pad out of the scraps! It is SO cute.

I totally love this bag. Yay for talented family and friends!

It's a Boy!

Our newest addition is finally here!

Jude Alexander Kannel
October 21, 2010 - 11:58 a.m.
8 pounds, 12 ounces
21.5 inches long

Elijah meets his "little brudder" for the first time:

The awesome ladies who served me and my family and helped bring Jude safely into the world: my doula, Dee; my midwife, Susie; and her assistant, Cindy. These women were amazing!

And my husband was absolutely awesome as well...not to mention how well he's taking care of me and our boys(!). Seeing Steve as a daddy never fails to melt my heart. And he's an endlessly patient husband/nurse, too.

I can't wait to tell you all about Jude's name and the story of his birth. He was worth waiting for! You'll have to be patient, though, as we don't have a laptop and my priorities are snuggling/nursing my little guy and resting in bed :) Thanks so much for your prayers--God answered them so mightily!

Baby Kannel #2: A Preview

Belated posting is the name of the game at the blog this week, apparently. Though I do have a slightly better excuse for the lateness of this one. For the longest time, I couldn't get our scanner to work. Now that we're only a few weeks away from actually meeting Baby Kannel #2...shall I post some ultrasound pictures from almost three months ago?!

I was happy that we got a much clearer 3D photo this time. Elijah had his arm over his face the entire time, so we didn't get great shots of him. This little one gave us a better glimpse:

I've tried comparing the ultrasound photos to see if they look alike, but I can't really tell. (Honestly, even look at Elijah's ultrasound photos, I'd never be able to tell it was him.) That's one of the things I'm most curious about: Will this baby look like Elijah, or completely different? I know families where you can tell without a doubt that all the siblings are related, and then other families where brothers don't even look like they came from the same parents--so I can't wait to see this baby's features. I am hoping for Steve's eyes this time around :)

With Elijah, we didn't find out the gender--we weren't even tempted; we knew for sure we wanted to be surprised. This time, Steve and I both agreed early on that we'd like to find out, just to see how it would be different knowing in advance. So we did receive news of the gender at our June ultrasound...but much to the chagrin of our parents and several friends, we are keeping it a secret. I'm not even sure why we decided to do that, other than to be ornery :) It's kind of fun to have a big secret--but also really hard to not say "he/she" instead of "the baby"!

We have the first name picked out, though we haven't decided on a middle name. It's hard to believe how quickly this pregnancy has flown by. I'm well into my last trimester and needing to start preparing in earnest for the birth! We are planning a homebirth this time, which I'm excited about and thankful for, but I do have to admit it is more of a hassle in this one way, having to order/collect supplies. I'm asking God for a joyful and positive, rather than traumatic, birth experience this time--and hoping that delivering at home, possibly in the water, will be a huge factor in helping that happen.

So that's the 34-week pregnancy update around here. We just got photos back from a maternity shoot that a friend of mine did a couple of weeks ago--if you're my friend on Facebook you saw them already--so I'll be posting those here soon.

Letter to a Mother

[fourth and final post in a series...start with part 1]

Back in December, I told you about an amazing Internet phenomenon called “The Mother Letter Project.” A man named Seth compiled hundreds of letters from mothers to give as a Christmas present to his wife, Amber. I felt compelled to contribute to the project, and I’ve wanted to share my letter here, but felt the need to provide more context first.

Now that I’ve done that, here’s my mother-letter. The first half will sound familiar if you’ve been reading along over the last week, but I hope you'll find the ending to be a blessing.

* * *

December 24, 2008

Dear Mother,

I’ve spent the last sixteen months feeling completely unqualified to be a mother—so I hardly know how to write you an encouraging letter about motherhood. Rather, I’m sure you could teach me a thing or two. Never in my life have I felt so utterly incompetent at anything.

And yet I can’t stop thinking about this Mother Letter Project, can’t ignore the compelling urge to be a part of this sisterhood of motherhood. So here I am.

In this new season of life, I have floundered; my days have been marked not by enthusiasm and confidence but by fear and overwhelming guilt. I know women who say things like, “I was made to be a mother—it is the most incredible experience of my life!” But the truth is, those statements are foreign to me. My journey as a mother hasn’t been “This is hard, but it’s totally great. Without a doubt worth it.” It’s been, “This is hard—really, really hard. And I am not thriving.” I wish I could echo those delighted mothers’ comments, but I can’t—and so the lack of enjoyment is compounded by a crushing weight of guilt for not feeling like a mother “should” feel.

The day I gave birth was not the greatest day of my life; it was the most traumatic. I expected motherhood to be love at first sight. You always hear mamas talk about holding their babies for the first time: "head over heels in love"..."totally smitten with this new little person"..."never knew it was possible to love someone this much"... That's how I expected it to be. I never imagined there could be any other reaction. But when my son was born, I felt more shell-shocked than anything else—less "love at first sight" and more "what just happened to me?" I didn’t feel that tremendous, instantaneous bond people talk about. And you know what? A year and a half later, I still don't feel that overwhelming sense of "I could never love another child as much as I love this baby."

Eventually, I found the courage to open up to a handful of women who reassured me that I was not alone. Not everyone has that love at first sight experience, and that’s OKAY. But I still struggle to shake off the oppressive weight of guilt and shame. I feel like I can't talk about it because women who had that “smitten” experience everyone expects, who adore motherhood, are secretly appalled or horrified that anyone could NOT feel that way. I feel like an awful person for admitting it is not like that for me.

But what I am learning, Mother—or rather, what I am telling you in hopes that it will sink into my own heart—is that love is a choice mothers make. Maybe you are one of those mothers who, upon seeing your babies for the first time, felt as though your heart would explode. Or perhaps you, like me, lack those mushy motherly emotions a lot of the time. Neither makes you more or less a loving mother, if day by day you choose to love.

I’m learning that motherhood—loving my son—means dying daily. Laying down my desire for comfort and ease, my independence and freedom, my preferences, even some of my dreams. It means I show my love, mushy feelings or not, by changing stinky diapers, reading the same story for the six-hundredth time, waking at three a.m., spooning vegetables into a hungry mouth.

Each day as I care for my son, I must die to laziness, to self-centeredness, to pride. And it’s in death that I am most beautiful, because it’s here that I look most like my Savior—the One who died that I might live.

“And Jesus answered them, ‘The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.’” (John 12:23-25)

Yet death is not the ultimate goal of a mother. I die so that I might live—and so that, seeing me live abundantly, my son might also have life to the full. As a living mother, I am selfish, prideful, angry, impatient. But as a mother who has died to self and sin, I have hope in the gospel, in the power of Christ to change my flawed and broken ways.

“He who did not spare his own son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?” (Romans 8:32)

The day I depend on my own strength to mother my son is the day I fail miserably. But my Savior, whose death purchased my forgiveness and reconciliation with God, also purchased my transformation and gave me His Spirit. He who called me and justified me has promised to glorify me (Romans 8:30). And that means His grace can provide what I need to be an effective, faithful mother.

That grace is available to you, too, Mama. And so I pray that each day you’ll find the grace you need to die to self, in order that you and your precious little ones (and others who are watching) can love and live abundantly in Him.

Grace and Peace,

Amy

* * *

Previously in this series:
Crushed by Mother-Guilt
Breaking the Silence
A Mother in Process, Clinging to Hope

A Mother in Process, Clinging to Hope

[part 3 in a series...start with part 1]

A while back, a friend of mine wrote an inspiring post about how it’s easier to share about our struggles once we’ve conquered them. Jenny said:

Sure it would be easy to wait 'til I was dried, fluffed, and sassy to tell the story. But I think that we as Christians do that too much already. We want to wait until there is a neat bow on the story to share it. I want to wait until there is a bow...

But I share what I'm going through in hope, in faith that I will not always be this way.

So I am writing this series on motherhood; I am putting my vulnerable heart out there. Because like Jenny, I have hope that I will not always be this way.

The last 20 months have been the hardest of my life. Motherhood has been a dark road, full of ugliness as I am slammed day after day with the selfishness that pervades my heart. Again and again I am confronted with the nasty, painful truth about my self-centered desires and my pathetic weakness, my angry impatience when a toddler’s needs thwart my cravings for comfort, ease, pleasure.

I adore the belly laughs, the cheeky grins, the "squeezes." I can't get enough of the dancing, the singing, the moment of recognition in learning something new. But then…I’m enjoying some quiet time early in the morning, and the monitor pierces the stillness with agitated squawking a full hour before I expected to have to go upstairs. I’m trying to fix breakfast, and no matter how quickly I work, my reassurances of food coming soon only serve to escalate the whining. I'm witnessing firsthand where the phrase “blood-curdling scream” came from, and I have no way of knowing what he wants. It’s hard to know who’s more frustrated.

Discouragement threatens to overwhelm (and often does) when I see my sin only revealed and exposed, not removed or transformed. Many days I am miserable. It is an ugly thing to admit, that I could ever be miserable mothering a precious, beautiful little boy—but it is the raw truth.

The quote above from my friend Jenny refers to something Brad O’Donnell once told Nichole Nordeman:

Christians are somehow prone to talking more about where they’ve been instead of where they are. Very few people want to speak up while they are in process… They’d rather wait until their junk is resolved, so they can give a 'testimony' about the happy ending. As it relates to your writing, please don’t feel the need to tie it up with a bow at the end."

I am very much “in process,” with plenty of unresolved junk and no immediate happy ending in sight. I’ve learned that I am definitely not a fan of the newborn stage (and that my perspective is more common than I realized), and at various times over the last several months, my hope has been in many different things, especially Elijah’s growth. Sure that the next stage will be an improvement, I so easily get caught up in the mindset of, “I can’t wait until Elijah can [fill in the blank].” Most recently, I remarked that I thought I would be a new woman once I had a verbal child—I figured motherhood would be so much more fun when I could really communicate with my son.

I can’t tie this story up with a neat bow yet, much as I’d like to. But as much for myself as for my readers, I can’t leave the loose ends hanging in sin and despair. Bit by bit, however agonizingly slowly, I’m learning that my hope cannot be in that simple phrase “it gets better!”, in a future day when motherhood will be easier or more fun, when circumstances will change. My hope must be in the God who will sustain me in the meantime—and in His promise that it WILL get much, much better. Perhaps in a few months or years, yes, but even more so in eternity, when I am free from this sin-sick heart and can glorify Him like I was created to do.

In the meantime, I keep plodding on, muddling through mothering. I keep trying to point myself, and my son, and you, to the One who died to set me free from sin and despair—the One who alone can bring peace and joy in the midst of motherhood.

[tomorrow: conclusion to the series]

Breaking the Silence

[part 2 in a series...part 1 is here]

One of the places I’ve found encouragement as a struggling mother has been from an unlikely source: Heather Armstrong of Dooce.com. I say unlikely because in almost every way, Heather and I could not be more different. But she has been refreshingly candid about her hellish journey through postpartum depression, and if nothing else, her blog has been a place for me to see that I am not alone in my struggles with motherhood. Her PPD was so severe that she spent a few days in a mental hospital about six months after the birth of her daughter, and several months ago, she felt compelled to write a post about the joys of parenting her now-four-year-old, wanting to encourage women who need to hear what she needed to hear back then. Heather wrote:

Maybe it's because I've been going through collections of old photos from the first years of her life, or perhaps it's because the anniversary of my stay in a mental hospital is this month, but this morning I felt like I needed to say something to someone out there who may need to hear this right now like I did so badly back then: it gets so much better.

In fact, better is not even a word that can do it justice. There are very simple times that I'm with her, when I'm brushing her hair or watching her read herself a book on her bed, when the feeling that comes over me is not unlike how it was when I was a kid walking through the gates at an amusement park knowing that I was going to have the most awesome, most memorable day. And it's not the feeling of riding the roller coaster or being allowed to eat an entire bag of cotton candy, it's the feeling before all that. It's the excitement, the anticipation, the general sense of being in one of my favorite places.

When Leta was born I thought I would automatically feel this way, and many women do. But I did not. And I did not know if I would ever get here. So many women reached out to me to let me know they had gone through the same crisis and came out the other side, and it was the hope they gave me that pulled me through. If you happen to be in that place right now, I want you to know that it gets so much better. And one day you're going to be having a complex conversation with that baby who is screaming her head off right now, and you're going to go, holy ****, I made it. You will make it.

Like Heather, I thought I would automatically have those feelings so many moms describe. But I did not. And although I enjoy Elijah so very, very much more now than I did a year and a half ago, in many ways I am still struggling—still clinging to the hope that it will get better. I am floundering, falling far short of my expectations. I am wondering when I’ll ever feel comfortable and confident in this mother-skin, when I’ll love its weight instead of squirming in this ill-fitting identity.

The comments on Heather’s post showed me just how un-alone Heather and I are. I read comments like this:

You wrote this for me, as I bounce my crying, 8 week old son in his bouncy chair. There are lots of days when he and I just cry together and I think I am so not cut out for this, even though I've wanted it my whole life. It's a lonely place…

And this:

Yeah, everyone gives you that crap about "falling in love with your baby immediately" and so NATURALLY I felt like a total failure for not loving the newborn phase and the newborn who was in it.

And another:

This cannot be said enough. I have no doubt that women (and men) are genuine in declaring that their absolute, passionate, and unwavering love for their newborn switched on in the delivery room, but it's not a universal experience. And the love of a mother whose love for her child grows over a matter of days, months, or years--rather than hitting all at once as in a lightning strike--can be just as strong and is every bit as valid.

I actually went through and skimmed all four hundred of the comments. It was kind of incredible to read about all these other women feeling like I do. It’s like the best kept secret in motherhood. I thought about how much I wanted to write about it on my own blog, but how scared I was of doing so. Then I read this comment:

I wish more women who've experienced post-partum depression or have simply been overwhelmed by the whole motherhood thing would share their experiences. It would sure save those of us who went through that "I'm not so sure I like this being-a-mom thing" a lot of guilt and heartsickness.

I guess I have to.

So here I am several months later, blabbing the secret—hoping to save another mama some guilt and heartsickness.

More to come...

Crushed by Mother-Guilt

I've known I was supposed to write this--needed to write it--for a long, long time. Today, finally, I am summoning the courage to share a story from the most vulnerable parts of my heart: the truth about my experience of motherhood.

I’ve never known love at first sight.

When women talk about how they felt when they first saw and held their babies, you hear certain familiar phrases: “head over heels in love”… “instantly smitten with this new little person” … “never knew it was possible to love someone this much” … That’s how I expected it to be. In fact, I never imagined there COULD be any other reaction. But that’s not how I felt when Elijah was born.

The day I gave birth to my son was not the best, most wonderful day of my life. It was the most traumatic. When Elijah was born, I felt more shell-shocked than anything else—not “love at first sight” but “what just happened to me?” I did not feel that tremendous, instantaneous attachment people talk about. And over the days and weeks that followed, I felt crushed by the guilt of not feeling like a mother “should” feel about her child.

The early weeks of motherhood were painful in every way: Physically, because I developed an infection, and because breastfeeding initially felt like some sort of torture device involving pliers and sandpaper. Emotionally, because I was miserable. Were my mothering hormones broken? I wasn’t loving motherhood like I expected to; I didn’t feel bonded to my baby. And socially, because my misery was compounded by a smothering weight of guilt. It was painful not just because I was miserable, but because I felt so very alone.

Eventually I spoke with a handful of women (you know who you are, and I will be forever grateful to you) who reassured me that not everyone has that “love at first sight” experience, and that it was OKAY—common, even—to feel as I did. And over the last year and a half, I’ve discovered that a stunning number of mothers—many more than I expected—have struggled just like me. Unfortunately, most of us don’t talk about it, because even as we feel relieved and validated to find each other, we still have a hard time letting go of the guilt and the shame.

Well-meaning people, including mamas who truly are thriving, are quick to say things to a new mom like, “Isn’t motherhood the greatest?” “Don’t you just love it?” But those kinds of questions don’t leave much room for the honest answer I desperately wanted to give: “Um…no.” If nothing else, I’ve learned to ask open-ended questions to new moms, not “questions” that expect shiny, happy, euphoric-new-mother answers.

I’ve put off writing this for over a year now. No other reason than fear, really. I am afraid to write it because I know I will be judged. There are women who have had that love-at-first-sight experience, who thoroughly enjoy motherhood, who will be appalled at my lack of warm-fuzzies. There are women who have never had children—who haven’t reached that season of life yet, or who struggle with infertility and have suffered through miscarriages—who will resent me for not cherishing my own blessing enough.

But today I am taking a deep breath and saying, so be it. Because there are also women who are scared, women who feel so alone, women who are looking at their babies and saying, “What have I done? How will I survive this?” There are women who are suffering in lonely silence, googling “not in love with my newborn” or “I hate motherhood”—and hating themselves as they type those words. And so I write for them. I write for me.

Part 2: Breaking the Silence
Part 3: A Mother in Process, Clinging to Hope
Part 4: Letter to a Mother

Vaccine Activism

You may or may not have heard the recent news that vaccine manufacturer Merck is stopping production of its monovalent versions of the MMR vaccine. While the official vaccine schedule recommends the MMR vaccine (and now even the MMR-V, adding chicken pox to the shot), up until now, parents have had the option to give their children separate shots for measles, mumps, and rubella (or choose only one or two of the three).

Among other reasons for doing this, some people develop immunity naturally to one or two of the three diseases (determined by a titer blood test), so getting all three in the MMR is overkill. Other people simply prefer to space out their kids' vaccines, rather than giving several all at once. However, if Merck stops offering separate measles, mumps, and rubella vaccines, parents will have fewer choices--it will be all or nothing.

I've recently been told that Merck is taking calls from consumers and will be evaluating demand before making a decision about continuing to manufacture single-dose vials. If you are a parent who wants choices when it comes to the dozens of vaccines given to children, I would really appreciate it if you would call Merck and request that they resume manufacturing the single dose vials of the MMR.

This call was very simple to make yesterday--it took me less than one minute. The number is (800) 672-6372; press 2 at the first prompt and 3 at the second prompt. You can just tell the representative that you would like to have the option to have the individual vaccinations, for the reasons stated above.

Thanks!

One More Reading Resource

One last brief reading post :) I ran across this website a couple of months ago and thought it looked like a fantastic resource:

Read Kiddo Read

Happy reading to your children! And take some time to curl up with a good book of your own this weekend :)

Books We Love

To wrap up this week's series on reading, I thought I'd start a conversation about favorite books. WHAT do you read to your kiddos? We have some favorites so far, and I always love to hear about other people's beloved books. Some consistently popular choices in our house:

~The Very Hungry Caterpillar - This book is a classic for a reason--it's brilliant. Counting, the days of the week, food, and a beautiful story about a caterpillar's transformation. One of our first books, and I definitely have it memorized. Eric Carle has lots of wonderful books; we also enjoy Polar Bear, Polar Bear, What Do You Hear? and the accompanying books in that series.

~Almost anything by Sandra Boynton. Our first books of hers were Boynton's Greatest Hits: Volume II (The Going to Bed Book, Horns to Toes, Opposites, But Not the Hippopotamus). These books bear repeated readings better than most of Elijah's other books--which was really important in those early days when we had very few options and were reading the same dozen books endlessly! We've since collected a lot more--I especially love Birthday Monsters! and Dinosaur's Binkit. Also, though we don't really look at the accompanying books much, I definitely recommend Boynton's music. Rhinoceros Tap is a road trip essential for us.

~One of the biggest reasons I'm passionate about Elijah reading is so that he can and will read God's Word. My two favorite children's Bible storybooks are The Jesus Storybook Bible and The Big Picture Story Bible.

Other hits:
~How Do Dinosaurs Say Good Night? (part of a series of "How Do Dinosaurs...?" books--we have two and hope to collect more)
~anything by Dr. Seuss--I know some people don't like him, but his books are well-loved at our house
~Guess How Much I Love You
~Ten Little Ladybugs - Elijah really likes to touch the 3-D bugs
~Move Over, Rover!

What books do you and your kids love?

The Read-Aloud Handbook: A Must-Read for Parents

I asserted in my last post that I think The Read-Aloud Handbook should be required reading for every parent. Maybe that's overstating the case--I know there are plenty of caring, involved parents who don't need this book to teach them to read to their children. But as the daughter of public school educators, I dream of what might happen if every parent in America had to read at least an article excerpted from this book! Here's why:

Jim Trelease, the author, quotes the Commission on Reading's 1985 report "Becoming a Nation of Readers," which found that “The single most important activity for building the knowledge required for eventual success in reading is reading aloud to children.” Trelease says that “poverty and illiteracy are related—they are the parents of desperation and imprisonment.”

And if you're tuning out because you're not a parent, consider this:

“Reading is the ultimate weapon, destroying ignorance, poverty, and despair before they can destroy us. A nation that doesn’t read much doesn’t know much. And a nation that doesn’t know much is more likely to make poor choices in the home, the marketplace, the jury box, and the voting booth. And those decisions ultimately affect an entire nation—the literate and the illiterate.”

Trelease points out that it's never too early to read to your child. You started talking to your newborn on the very first day, didn't you? Maybe even before that, while she was still in the womb! She couldn't understand you, but that didn't stop you. Reading is the same way.

“We read to children for all the same reasons we talk with children: to reassure, to entertain, to bond, to inform or explain, to arouse curiosity, to inspire. But in reading aloud, we also condition the child’s brain to associate reading with pleasure; create background knowledge; build vocabulary; provide a reading role model.”

But children need to hear more words than we would normally speak in conversations, or even than are commonly heard on TV shows. Trelease writes:

Most conversation is plain and simple, whether it’s between two adults or with children. It consists of the five thousand words we use all the time, called the Basic Lexicon. Then there are another five thousand words we use in conversation less often. …Beyond that ten thousand mark are the "rare words," and these play a critical role in reading. The eventual strength of our vocabulary is determined not by the ten thousand common words but by how many "rare words" we understand.

…printed text contains the most rare words. Whereas an adult uses only nine rare words (per thousand) when talking with a three-year-old, there are three times as many in a children’s book… oral communication (including a TV script) is decidedly inferior to print when building vocabulary. …This poses serious problems for at-risk children who watch large amounts of TV, hear fewer words, and encounter print less often at home. Such children face a gigantic word gap that impedes reading progress throughout school.”

And this little fact, based on research, was astounding to me: “the larger the vocabularies and the more complex the thinking process in youth, the less chance of Alzheimer’s damage”! Reading has side effects I never even imagined.

In case you haven't gotten my point, I highly recommend The Read-Aloud Handbook. I'd also encourage you to check out Jim Trelease's personal website for lots of great information, including these handy PDF files:

Ten Facts About Reading
30 DOs to Remember When Reading Aloud
A Dozen DON'Ts to Remember When Reading Aloud

The Book Every Parent Should Read

There are plenty of debates in the world of parenting. Attachment parenting, cry-it-out, breastfeeding, diapering, vaccinations, daycare, eating organic, spanking...the hot-button issues are nearly endless. Pick any one of them, and you are almost sure not only to find people who passionately think XYZ is THE best thing you can do for a child, but also to find just as many passionate other people who believe the complete opposite, and think XYZ is harmful, or at least is not that necessary, or not possible for everyone. It's enough to make a mother's head spin.

So while Steve and I have made choices for our family about the things listed above, and while I hold very strong opinions about a few of these issues, I'd be treading on pretty shaky ground to say that any book advocating one of these viewpoints should be required reading for every parent. They're sensitive decisions, and people who I deeply respect and who love their children tremendously come down on different sides of the arguments.

However, I'm going to be bold and say that reading to your children falls entirely outside this realm of parenting debates. Can anyone argue that NOT reading to your child is better than reading to him? Can anyone claim that it's not possible for everyone? (At least in the U.S., even illiterate parents have access to public libraries where they can obtain audiobooks for free.) Would anyone say that reading to your child is harmful? So maybe reading to children is the one issue all of us mothers can agree on --let's do it, because it's a GOOD thing.

That's why there IS at least one book I think every parent should read.

When Elijah was four months old, my mom gave me The Read-Aloud Handbook. I wasn’t particularly interested at first; I was already sold on reading to my son, and the title didn't seem particularly intriguing, to be honest. But Mom’s enthusiastic description of the author, Jim Trelease (based on hearing him speak in person), intrigued me. After reading the introduction to the book, I was captivated.

I knew instinctively, having been raised in a home that valued education, that reading was important. But it wasn’t until I read The Read-Aloud Handbook that I understood exactly why it was so vital to a child’s growth. Trelease uses up-to-date research and inspiring anecdotes to illustrate the power of reading to shape an individual and even a nation. He explains the value of reading aloud even to children who can read for themselves, and shows how to begin. He provides tips for coaxing kids away from the TV and advice on how to create a reader-friendly environment at home.

The second half of the book is a read-aloud treasury. Trelease lists 1,000 books that are great for reading aloud, from picture books to novels, and shares some of his favorites; you can even find books listed by theme.

I have some quotes from the book I'd like to share, but I'm afraid it'll make this post way too long--so watch for a follow-up post later today or tomorrow. Meanwhile, you can check out Jim Trelease's website, including these printable brochures:

Ten Facts About Reading
30 DOs to Remember When Reading Aloud
A Dozen DON'Ts to Remember When Reading Aloud

Imagination Library: A Fabulous Gift

God bless Dolly Parton.

I don't care for her voice (at ALL), and I've never been to Dollywood. But it's because of Miss Dolly Parton that I'm eager to check the mailbox at the beginning of each month. I'm anticipating another brand-new book wrapped in cellophane any day now. When it finally arrives, I'll tear the plastic off immediately and head to our reading chair, where Elijah and I will discover a new story.

No idea what I'm talking about? Then it's my delight to introduce you to the Imagination Library.

In 1996, Dolly Parton launched an exciting new effort to benefit the children of her home county in east Tennessee. Dolly wanted to foster a love of reading among her county’s preschool children and their families. She wanted children to be excited about books and to feel the magic that books can create. Moreover, she could insure that every child would have books, regardless of their family’s income.

So she decided to mail a brand new, age-appropriate book each month to every child under 5 in Sevier County. With the arrival of every child’s first book, the classic The Little Engine That Could, every child could now experience the joy of finding their very own book in their mailbox. These moments continue each month until the child turns 5... Needless to say the experience has been a smashing success. So much so that many other communities clamored to provide the Imagination Library to their children.

Is that an awesome idea or what? The Imagination Library has gone nationwide, and we're blessed to be living in an area that participates. What an incredible gift to parents. Parenting brings plenty of overwhelming expenses, and even if you have the means to buy books regularly, how do you know which ones to choose? We’ve gotten some duds through the program, sure (Peter Rabbit’s Book of Colors is the worst so far; my husband and I are annoyed to no end that the book doesn’t even order the colors of the spectrum properly), but we’ve also received well-known classics from Eric Carle and discovered delightful new books like Good Night, Gorilla and Ready, Set, Skip.

Receiving books through the Imagination Library can be a great starting point for exploring authors or illustrators, and it's a wonderful way to build your child's library. Reading doesn't have to be expensive. It's accessible to everyone for free through the local public library, of course, but I think it's also extremely important for your children to have books of their very own. We've amassed quite a collection so far and it has cost me very, very little between gifts, used book sales/yard sales, and the wonderful Imagination Library. Just think of it--60 brand-new books for each kid in your family!

So that's why I'm thankful for Dolly Parton. I applaud her efforts to promote reading to children! I'm sure a lot of you are already aware of this program, but if it's new to you, check out the website and register your child online today!

Passing Along a Love of Reading

It was my mom who opened the world of books to me. To be honest, I don’t have many vivid memories of her reading to me when I was very small. But I do remember that when I was in elementary school and middle school, shopping trips with her always included a stop at Media Play, where I could typically, without too much cajoling, persuade her to buy me a brand-new paperback.

My nose was *always* in books when I was young. A squatty shelf in our hallway held dozens of volumes for me to pore over constantly. My bedroom furniture included a large bookshelf attached to the desk, which soon filled up with the latest volumes in my favorite series: The Baby-sitters Club, Sweet Valley Twins, Sweet Valley High. I devoured anything I could get my hands on; grounding me was useless because I preferred to sit quietly in my room and read anyway. (Yes, I was a nerd.)

I remember signing up for the summer reading program at the library each year, Mom driving me across town week after week to exchange one tall stack of books for another. There I’d collect a new bookmark at the circulation desk and eagerly fill out brightly-colored papers to stick up on library walls and shelves, celebrating my prolific reading.

I have no doubt it’s that love of reading that made all the difference in my education. The books I read endlessly made me a whiz speller, an articulate speaker with a broad vocabulary, a clear and thoughtful writer. And those books opened worlds to me.

One of my greatest hopes for my eighteen-month-old son is to open those worlds to him. I want a lot of things for Elijah, but few more than for him to love reading.

That’s why I registered at Amazon.com right along with Babies R Us when I was pregnant. It’s why I put books at the top of his wishlists for birthday or Christmas gift-givers. It’s why I eagerly head straight for the children’s books at yard sales, hoping to add to our growing collection. And it’s why every time it's a little too quiet in the living room, I melt when I peek around the corner only to find Elijah turning the pages of a book.

There are a whole lot of things I’m screwing up as a mother, a whole lot of things I thought I’d do but have failed at miserably. I didn’t manage to follow through with baby sign language; I don’t play classical music on an endless loop. But I read to Elijah as much as I can.

I’m delighted that my little guy loves books so much. When I sit down in the reading chair, he’ll drop what he’s doing and toddle over to me, anxious to climb up into my lap. The mere mention of the word "read" will bring whining if you're not prepared to follow up with action! It’s not unusual for him to sit for 40 minutes as I read book after book, letting him turn the pages with his eager, chubby hands.

Last week, he discovered that he can initiate reading time by bringing a book to me and whining to be picked up. Nine times out of ten, I don't have the heart to refuse the pleading eyes of a toddler who loves to be read to. Which means that now every time I sit down, I can count on a book being insistently held out to me, accompanied by frustrated cries if I don't immediately respond. I'll admit that the interruption isn't always welcome, but I'm trying to focus on my gratitude that Elijah enjoys reading so much.

This week, elementary schools around the country are observing Read Across America Week (happy birthday, Dr. Seuss!), and we're going to join in the celebration here at Lavender *Sparkles*. Check back over the next few days to hear me talk about the reason we get excited to visit the mailbox at the beginning of each month, some of our favorite children's books, and the book I think should be required reading for every parent in America.

Meanwhile, feel free to start discussing reading in the comments. Do you love to read? Who instilled that in you? What books do you remember loving when you were young?

Babywearing Gear Contest

Along for the Ride is having another contest! This one is huge--a $250 shopping spree for the winner, plus $400 in runner-up prizes. Enter to win here. (I bought my Moby Wrap from this store and the customer service is great!)

Competency and Motherhood

Thanks to a generous surprise gift from a friend, I'm reading through Anne Lamott's book Operating Instructions: A Journal of My Son's First Year. I read it years and years ago but can appreciate it a whole lot more these days. This quote I read this morning sums up exactly how I feel:

"All these people keep waxing sentimental about how fabulously well I am doing as a mother, how competent I am, but I feel inside like when you're first learning to put nail polish on your right hand with your left. You can do it, but it doesn't look all that great around the cuticles."

Best Buds

Ten years ago? I was a freshman, she a senior. We were paired as co-Narrators for our high school musical. Neither of us was thrilled with the arrangement. But an unexpected friendship grew, and was cemented for life a few months later when we each surrendered to Christ's call on our lives at church camp.

Five years ago? We were both single--although maybe she had started dating her husband at that point. Plenty of talk about guys...this was the girl who would tell me, in all love and the best wisdom she had at the time, "As for Steve, it's a cute fairy tale, but it's not going to happen and you just need to move on." :)

One year ago (or a little less)? A phone conversation that went something like this: "Guess what, I'm pregnant!" "AAAAAAAHHHH!!! So am I!!!"

Two months ago, two little boys were born to two best friends, within two days of each other. Last week, we got to spend some precious and rare girl time together when Julie and Joel came down for a visit--though "girl time" is now no longer females-only, and our conversations sound a little different these days. One element is constant: the kindness and faithfulness of God.

Maybe someday these two will be best buds.

Where Were You Ten Years Ago?

Life postpartum for me has been, in a word, overwhelming. I know that description is probably underwhelming--adjusting to a new baby is overwhelming for everyone, right? But it has seemed more so than usual for me--these last almost-seven weeks have seen me feeling completely overwhelmed and broken, with a whole lot of tears.

Part of it is hormones, to be sure. But part of it is also coming face to face with the sin in my heart. I knew God would use motherhood to refine me, and I wanted Him to do so--but I also feared it, because I knew the process would be painful. It's never fun to be confronted with your own ugliness. And there's been plenty of confronting these last several weeks, let me tell you. In some ways motherhood has brought out the worst in me. Compounding matters is the simple fact that I have sown laziness and selfishness for the last two years, and God's Word promises that you reap what you sow--so now I am reaping the consequences of my choices as old habits die hard.

Yet I serve a faithful God, one who is endlessly patient with me and, in His incredible grace, does not treat me as my sins deserve. And time after time, He has provided the encouragement and comfort I need, often using many of you as vessels of His grace and love.

Last Thursday and Friday were, I believe, rock-bottom. I sat at the dining room table on Friday morning holding Elijah and weeping, telling him he deserved a better mama than he got. Our church's women's retreat was scheduled for Friday and Saturday, and part of me didn't even want to go. But Friday afternoon with Elijah went better, and so we went (all the ladies from church were so glad to finally be able to pass him around). Of course it was exactly what I needed. Amazingly, both the format and the date were completely different this year than in the past--and though I'm not so arrogant as to believe it all revolves around me, I am thankful that it was when and what it was this year, because it was absolutely what I needed, just when I needed it most.

On Saturday morning, the woman who was leading our discussion group on Proverbs 31 concluded by affirming each of us, saying that although none of us had raised our hands at the beginning claiming that we were a "strong Proverbs 31 woman," we each were, in our own ways. She said some really encouraging things to me that made me realize: I've come a long way, and God's not finished with me yet.

When I look at my sin, it can be so discouraging. I see where I am and where I want to be, and there's such a chasm between the two that I start to despair. At times like that I need to be reminded to turn around and look backwards. I'm not where I want to be--but I'm not where I started, either. When I stop and think about the person I was ten years ago, as a brand-new baby Christian...oh wow. God has brought me so far from that place and taught me so much in that decade. And so I remember that just as He loved me and patiently led me then, so will He continue to gently, compassionately, faithfully complete the good work He began in me.

And I need to look back even further--to the cross. When my sin is overwhelmingly ugly and I am tempted to despair, I can take heart that God's love for me and acceptance of me as His daughter is not dependent on my performance. It was bought for me once and forever, by the blood of His Son.

Life as a New Mom

I'm totally putting "shower" and "eat lunch" on my to-do list now. Getting those things done most days is a real accomplishment, worthy of the satisfaction that comes with crossing them off a list.

(Thanks to Kristin for the idea.)