Posts Tagged → Beatrice
beatrice: nine months
licking daddy’s apple
Nine months old.
I’m typing that quickly and moving right along, because dwelling on that fact will reduce me to tears.
Last week she figured out how to do an army crawl of sorts. Up until then, she’d been rolling over, over, over until she reached her destination. Suddenly, that phase is over. I was sad to see it go. It was just so cute. So now she’s all over the place, faster and faster.
And suddenly she cries — huge tears — when I lay her down to change her. Mobility has, for whatever reason, inspired a sudden willfulness that, until now, seemed nonexistent. It’s pretty funny how quickly she can cue the tears — and how suddenly they stop when I get her attention and firmly say, no.
She still is the easiest, easiest baby I’ve had. She still naps for hours (Jameson would give me 20 minutes, tops, until he was 18 months old!) and lays down eagerly when she’s tired. At night she sleeps with me, since that’s the most restful way for me to accommodate her when she wakes to nurse.
Her eyes are big and beautiful, and are more and more aware of what’s going on around her. Watching a baby grow, seeing their person develop, is just an amazing thing.
I just wish it happened a little bit more slowly.
pausing
With only a few exceptions, I did it. I managed to post [almost!] every day for a month. Lots of photos, lots of anecdotal bits, a few thoughts I’m glad I caught before they flitted away — but mostly, the renewed discipline of thinking, recalling, enjoying, meditating, and just pausing.
For instance, because I’m posting more, I’m keeping my flickr account updated. And because I’m doing that regularly, I end up taking more pictures. And photos are just a way for me to see what I may otherwise miss.
Like yesterday:
Jameson, who was completely wrapped up in his coloring…
…William, who woke well before 6 and then found the day a bit hard to bear…
…and Beatrice, who has clocked twice as many hours in her basket as both boys combined. So sweet.
one weekend in maine: day two
We woke in fog, but the sun came out. And so we played:
the men played golf
william pushed beatrice…
…and she loved it.
it got even better when she managed to suck her thumb, too
jameson loves to run waaaaay down the edge of papa’s lawn
auntie sarah’s got skillz, too
spiderman masks from auntie sarah!
going for a walk with sarah
beatrice and i had to wait on the path. no off-roading for us.
ho hum.
just kidding.
olive loved beatrice instantly
who can resist a chance to explore those rocks?
one weekend in maine: day one
Sometimes, you’re sitting at the breakfast table on a Thursday morning. And you say to your husband, “Now that your dad is back from NZ, we should plan a trip to go visit.” And your husband says, “Let’s go tomorrow!”
At least, that’s what sometimes happens in my world.
So, Friday drive, Saturday visit, Sunday drive again — that was my weekend. And yes, it’s a long drive. My kids are peaches. I think all of those early plane trips to and from California made them thankful to at least be in a car for 8 hours. (I know I sure am!) A bag of books, a snack, the wonderful anticipation of when Mama will say yes to watching a movie, singing along to worship music, and just staring contentedly out the window — it keeps them awfully happy. Or maybe they’re just pretty happy kids. Either way, it’s fun to travel together.
day one:
first things first: chocolate chip muffins
early morning preparations
on the road
beatrice figured out that there was a movie behind her
our favorite Burlington stop
a dramatic day for driving through beautiful mountains
happy to watch a movie!
our fearless leader
us
she needs me
Tonight, for only the second time in her little life, Beatrice needed to be walked to sleep. (Usually she’s happy to just nurse and cuddle and drift off, but tonight a new tooth left her beside herself, poor babe.) After trying to solace her and lay down with her, I finally scooped her up and held her close as I walked and walked. I caught a glimpse of our reflection in the window — sweet little hand resting peacefully on my shoulder, eyes closed, finally resting. I held her closer. She needs me.
Isn’t that so much of what being a mother is — being needed, and responding to the point of deep personal sacrifice? I’ve been thinking about that a lot, lately, and hopefully will be able to get those thoughts out clearly at some point. But for now, it hovers in the back of my mind, making me rethink motives and reactions.
Sometimes it’s a sweet baby who really doesn’t ask for much at all, and of course I’ll cuddle you, you growing-too-fast baby doll! Sometimes the need is from an exhausted and wound up boy whose wildness is just not quite as adorable. Still, he needs me. He needs me to not snap, to not just get him in bed as fast as I can and be done. He needs me to remind, to train, to guide, and to do it all with patience that speaks of love.
To pour out our lives — that is the call. And there is grace.