For Posterity's Sake: Week in Review 40

On Logic and Putting it All Together:

That growing brain is working overtime, and making me laugh all the time. And, while I never know what's coming next, odds are, it's going to be entertaining.

Here's a sampling of our conversations/interactions with Audrey this week:

On Monday, Jason gave Audrey some sort of instruction. Not finding his request favorable, she yelled, "No!"

"You don't yell at me," Jason told her calmly.

"Only Mommy can?" she asked.

"Yes, only Mommy can," he answered as we laughed [not the correct response when being asked about appropriate yelling behavior by your toddler, I'm sure. But you see, we're just not a yelling family. The last time I remember yelling at Jason was about nine years ago before we were married (which is a pretty funny story in itself). As for Jason, I don't remember a time that he's ever yelled at me other than in a cheering capacity (or one time in a high school drama class while playing my 70-something counterpart who was attempting to put the moves on me. I, I mean, my offended character, yelled back)].


When Jason put Audrey to bed on Tuesday night, he told her that she had to go to sleep, but after she slept all night, she could go to school in the morning. He left her room at 8:30 p.m. At 9:15 p.m. we heard her at the door. "I slept all night. It's time to go to school!"


Wednesday while playing Audrey said, "Mommy, I love you, okay?"
"I love you, Audrey," I said.
"Okay. You can love me, too. If you want to."


Thursday night, as is the case most nights, Audrey was still running around as if she'd been given a continuous sugar drip when we told her it was time for bed. She sprinted behind a chair and burst into song, bellowing, "I am hiding because I don't want to go to bed!"


Today, as we were riding in the car, I asked Audrey what she's been learning in school. She began telling me how God made the moon and dogs and a big whale. After asking if she knew why God made all those things, I told her it was because He loves her.

Through the rearview mirror I saw her look up at the sky. "I love you, too, Jesus. You're a good man." Then she looked back at me. "Is Jesus a man?"


A little while later, I asked about a craft project she had made. I had been informed that it was baby Moses in a basket. "Do you know why Moses was in a basket?" I asked.

"Because I colored it," she said.


What can I say? God made the world, and Audrey rewrote the story of Moses. It's been a full week. Until the next one...

Bringing the Picnic Inside

We found ourselves with a bit of a soggy day today. So instead of spending the afternoon enjoying fall outside, we improvised with a blanket, the family room floor, and a picnic of sorts. I just love the combination of buttery popcorn flecked with salt and a crisp tart apple. Audrey didn't seem to mind the combo, either.

It's A...

Yes, those of you who noticed the allusion to a "he" in yesterday's post weren't just seeing things. We've been told to prepare for a little boy to join us this winter. This is the type of news that most find out at the doctor's office. But we prefer to receive it over a nice dinner with a good view.

Someone gave Jason this idea when we were pregnant with Audrey:

Rather than hear the news from our doctor or ultrasound tech, we asked them to write down what we were having and seal it in an envelope. We took the envelope shopping. Yes, shopping. At a children's store we picked out a girl's outfit and a boy's outfit. We handed both outfits, the envelope, and some cash to the sales associate. Then we told her we were leaving the store. We asked her to open the envelope; ring up the corresponding outfit; and gift wrap it, the envelope, and our change in a box that we would come pick up in ten minutes.

And then we took a box out for dinner. Somewhere, between courses and watching the waves come in (I did mention the good view, didn't I? We did this back in Florida for those wondering) we opened the box. Suddenly, the talk shifted from unknowns to concrete ideas: what color we would paint his room; how Audrey would act as the sister to a little brother; and what new activities he might bring into our lives. And, as easy as the unwrapping of a gift, our picture of who this little one (and our growing family) will be came one touch more into focus.

Shoes to Fill

Those of you who know me, or have passed me on the street, know that we're anticipating a little arrival this winter - one that will change our family and our lives in ways that we can't even imagine yet. We are trying to prepare in the only ways we know how: painting this little one's future room; stockpiling and reorganizing baby supplies, and talking to Audrey about what it means to be a sibling (and, of course, I've brought out the knitting needles).



But having become a mother once, I now know that what we need to prepare for most is to be surprised. The physical changes hit first: feeling the weight of a baby in my arms as opposed to kicking me from the inside; the unexpected back pain when I changed from an upright well-postured adult to one incessantly bending over a child; the zombie-like days of sleep deprivation (and the wonder and relief of catching second winds that kept us coping) that I believed would happen (I had heard the horror stories) - but hey, there's reading about Rome and there's actually being in Rome.



But it's the non-physical changes, the ones that have shown themselves gradually, that have stuck with me and altered me the most. We were only a few months into parenthood when I began to feel as if Audrey had always been a part of our family. Dynamic things come wrapped in very small bundles, and this vibrant one was going to leave a mark. And she has. I could not have imagined the courage, strength, and full-blown love (not to mention comedic relief) that comes in a three-foot blond with dirt under her nails and hummus slathered in her hair. But here she is, surprising me daily.



So I busy myself, making tiny shoes that will be too big for this new baby, and wondering just who this little one will grow to be. I don't know how he will change us, enrich us, or teach us. The only thing I know for certain is: he will.




~ The shoes were made using Lion Brand Fisherman's Wool in Nature's Brown. I used the Beginner Booties pattern in Melanie Falick and Kristin Nicholas' Knitting for Baby (A new book! What?! I know friends, it's a new day).

Countdown to Three

This weekend I pulled out Audrey's birthday crown to sew on the flower that will mark three years come November (I add one for every year). I can't believe we're almost there. And, I can't wait to see what this new year brings.

But first, there are things of great import to think about. Like cake. Definitely cake.

For Posterity's Sake: Week in Review 39

I operate like most moms I know, attempting to multi-task where I can and squeeze the most into each moment. You can find me knitting in the passenger seats of cars, checking my emails from my phone as I stand in line at the grocery store, and listening to books on cd (or finally listening to my own music) during those rare moments where I'm doing the dishes solo while Audrey runs around the backyard. Some nights, I blog bathside after washing Audrey's hair, getting her thoroughly cleaned, and playing for a few minutes. This had been the plan last night, but as I leaned back from the tub, she grabbed my hand and said, "No, I want to keep you." She likes to squeeze the most into her moments, too.

Here are some other memorable moments from this week:


On Monday, Audrey got my attention, "Look at me," she said in her sternest voice, "I love you."


Tuesday she informed me, "I'm not Audrey. I'm just pancake (what her Dad calls her)."


Later that day after finishing a snack, I told her she needed to go wash her hands or stay in her seat. Protesting, she said, "But I'm one of the girls who goes to school!"


During a Lego-building session, she said, "We need a touchdown."

I asked, "What's a touchdown?"

She stood up and performed a little dance, bobbing up and down to touch her toes.


My little sister, Ashley, came by to visit on Wednesday. She calls Audrey her shaky bunny.

"Come on, shaky bunny," she said.

"I'm not a shaky bunny," Audrey answered. "I'm just a pancake."


Then, Thursday morning, Audrey asked, "Am I your shaky bunny?"

"You're Aunt Ashley's shaky bunny," I said.

"Oh," she said. "Shaky Ashley."


This morning I made french toast. I began setting the table: putting out the french toast toppings, napkins, and silverware. Anticipating that I was getting to the drinks, Audrey said, "One wants water, one wants juice, and one wants soda poison (what Jason calls the sodas he drinks since he knows I don't want Audrey to drink soda for a very long time)."


We're hoping you're having a good weekend, squeezing the most into every moment, and spending your days with someone who just wants to keep you. Until next week...

Enjoying the Harvest

Other than slicing up an apple or two for lunch, I really didn't think we'd break into our orchard stash this week. It's not that I haven't wanted to, it's just that basement renovations and little sisters visiting from California happen on a certain timetable. Apples in cold storage can wait.



But then we went to the library where, en route to snagging a Where's Waldo book, we passed another picture book propped up on display entitled, The Apple Pie Tree. I picked it up, quickly scanned the pages, and flipped to the back where the author, Zoe Hall, had included her recipe for apple pie. I'm telling you, it was a sign. Or at least the little nudge I needed.





Tonight, we let things slide. We forgot about fixing dinner and rolled out dough, instead. We ate leftovers and Audrey used the smidge of leftover pie dough (trimmed from the edge of the pie plate) to make this mini rustic dessert. It came out of the oven just as we finished dinner and the rain and lightening began rolling in. Audrey capped off her night with a little bit of sugar and a past-due bedtime. But sometimes, you just have to give in to the apples.

Next week, I will write about other things. I promise. Maybe.