Your parents, in love

Dear Walter and Sally,

Happy Valentine's Day!

I want to record the events of this day for you, but not in the way I usually do.  I usually write these accounts focused on the two of you and what you did.  Tonight, I want to write about what Daddy and I did when you were at the babysitter's house.

"Ewwwwwww!" I can hear teenage Walter and Sally say. "GROSS.  Mom ... no .. just ... no."

Ah, my future teenagers. This blog is now, always has been and ever shall be rated "E" for everyone, including members of our congregation, bishops, your future employers, etc.  I'm not going to share intimate details.  But I will say this: intimacy is really important to the health of our marriage.  And so is cooking.

You know that Daddy does pretty much all the actual cooking in our family.  There was a time, though, when Daddy and I did a lot of cooking together.  It's something we love to do, and something we don't get to do very often anymore.

I even put on eye make up.

Tonight we dropped you off at Jordan's house, and instead of going out for dinner, we came home and made dinner together.  I'd picked out a recipe from our beautiful new Jerusalem cookbook, a Christmas gift from Umma and Baba. Cod cakes in tomato sauce ... a little more complicated than our usual meals, but not too complicated that it couldn't be done in two hours. We also made Israeli cous cous with dried cherries and swiss chard.  I got all dressed up in a new dress, nylons and high heels ... and a cute apron for cooking in.  While we cooked we drank ginger ale made with homemade ginger syrup, and snacked on delicious Dried and True beef jerky (made by my cousin Rachel and her husband, Matt.) We listened to Linda Thompson albums, chopping and stirring side by side. I chopped up a chili pepper, forgot to wash my hands, and rubbed my nose ... I do not recommend it. But it was just a temporary set back.  We also ran out of time, but that didn't set us back too badly, either ... sure, we ate quickly, and burned our tongues a bit, but it was delicious, and the time we spent together tonight was, too.

I realized at some point that all the things I'd asked for tonight ... cooking an elaborate meal together from a cookbook, listening to Linda Thompson, even the homemade ginger syrup ... these were all things Daddy and I did when we were newlyweds, living together in a little apartment in New Jersey. That's when we started this blog, that's when we started thinking seriously and even trying to have children ... and then decided to wait for a few years. It was not a very hard decision to make--it made sense, logically--but it was a hard decision to live with.  We were very sad, and the sadness seemed like another person living with us, for awhile. But we were also happy, and we were building the foundation of love, happiness and, yes, intimacy, that made us the Mama and Daddy you know today.

I'm not sure what the moral of this story is, or how to sum it all up in a pithy way. I'm way too full, content, and sleepy to ponder it much longer. It was a good day, and a good date night.  Maybe someday you'll think it's gross, and maybe someday you'll think it's cute, but regardless, it's true: Mama and Dada love each other.

And you two, too, of course.

Love,
Mama

Too young to remember

Dear Walter and Sally,

We had quite an adventure this weekend! It was the 4th of July, but it was also the 40th anniversary celebration of A Prairie Home Companion, a radio show that has been very special to both Mommy and Daddy since we were little kids.  We knew we wanted to get there, if we could, and share it with the two of you.

On Thursday night, after you went to bed, Daddy and I packed and got ready for the trip.  We were pretty tired and wondering what we'd gotten ourselves into.  Traveling isn't easy--there are lots of things to remember, lots of things to figure out and take care of.  We would not have even attempted this particular trip if it weren't for the help we had from our amazing friends. (Friends make life so good, so good indeed.)

We got up early on Friday--got bagels, got breakfast to eat in the car, got everyone in the van and headed to John and Karen's house to drop off Hank. Hank was elated to spend time with John and Karen, their cats, and his best doggie pal, Sammie. From there we turned around and headed north and west.  We took many stops along the way for potty breaks and nursing.  Sally, you did some good sleeping. Walter, you did not, but you were very sweet and managed to have a good day even without a nap.  We did lots of snacking in the car (cheese curds from a dairy store we stopped at on the way ... yum) but held off on lunch until we arrived in St. Paul.

This is how we roll!

After 5 hours of driving we arrived: hungry and a little worse for wear but also very excited and so glad, so relieved to see our dear friends Uncle Ben, Aunt Arden and Greta again!  Walter, you were especially excited to see Greta, who you'd met when she was a little baby, and who is now walking.  Sally, you were excited to get out of your carseat and immediately got to work playing with Greta's toys.  She shared them very graciously with both of you.  We walked from their house to Macalester College, where the anniversary party was well underway.  After a delicious lunch (pasties and tacos from food trucks) we walked around the booths and settled in to play some more at the children's museum area.

The children's museum had set up a fence around a patch of grass and set out large blue foam blocks of various shapes and sizes.  There were colorful plastic balls, too--Sally, you and Greta played with those. Walter, you befriended two seven-year-old boys and engaged in some really fabulous imaginative building with them.  I was very impressed with you for keeping up with the older boys (and very impressed with the older boys for including you so beautifully.)

Soon it was time for the concert--40 Songs, 40 Years.  It was an outdoor concert; we weren't sure how long it was going to be, and we weren't sure how we were going to make it work.  You kids love music, but we weren't sure you'd be able to sit through a whole concert.  Again, our friends made it possible.  Ben and Arden packed an amazing picnic dinner for us, which we enjoyed while we sat on our picnic blanket as the concert got started. We feasted on chicken, hummus, carrots, pita chips, turkey sausage sticks, cheese sticks and graham crackers. As we ate, I sang along a bit with Garrison and his friends--musicians who had been with the show when it first started, and others who became regular favorites along the way.  We got to hear Robin and Linda Williams, Old Crow Medicine Show, Gillian Welch, Jearlyn and Jevetta Steele and Iris Dement. When Garrison joined Robin and Linda Williams to sing "Calling My Children Home" I held dancing Sally in my arms and cried happy tears.

There were a few times when all four of us were on the blanket together, but most of the time Daddy walked with one of you while the other one snuggled on the blanket with me.  Those one-on-one times with each of you were very special for and precious to me.  Sally, you climbed all over me, snacking happily on graham crackers and hummus and charming the bejeebus out of everyone sitting around us.  I sang to you and you smiled and smiled and smiled.  We nursed; we love nursing outside, with the wind in your hair and the warm sun setting all around us, surrounded by music and people and also entirely in our own world, too.

Walter, you spent most of the show walking with Daddy, mostly to check out the super duper fancy porta-potties. They were airconditioned, with wood floors, running water and artwork on the walls.  You and Daddy were both mystified and super impressed and made several trips. That probably would have been your favorite part of the concert ... if it weren't for the Wailin' Jennys.

Three beautiful young women (about my age ... I still call that young) took the stage and giggled with Garrison for awhile. And then they started to sing. Now, everything up to that point had been wonderful, truly.  But something changed when they sang.  They sang without musical accompaniment, they sang in close, perfect harmony.  The harmony hit the air and vibrated and hung there and then spread across the crowd like electricity.  Walter, you'd been snuggling, almost sleeping in my lap.  When they hit their first note, you stood straight up, electrified. You shot up and stood and leaned toward the stage, "What are they singing, Mama?" you asked.  You felt the difference in the air--you knew this was something special.

Kids, you are too young to remember any of this on your own.  That's part of the reason I try to write things down, so we're sure to share our memories of these times and give you a sense of who you were and what your life was like before you started collecting memories. Sometimes it's tempting to use your age as a reason not to do things, especially things that involve 5 hours of car travel! "They won't even remember it," I think to myself sometimes.  But seeing the two of you at this concert, the way you enjoyed yourselves so completely, the way you danced and sang along (even you, Sally) and basked in the glow of the moment and in our collective family happiness ... there is no reason to wait for this until you are older. Sharing the joy of our lives is something Daddy and I can do (and do, do) with you right now. We get to enjoy it with you in the moment, and add those moments to our own collection of memories. And we will help you remember it, for sure.

Right about the time the two of you started getting antsy and sleepy and needing to head out, Garrison announced an intermission.  Intermission!  The show had already gone on for two hours.  We decided to leave while everyone was happy and the leaving was good.   We walked around the booths one more time and did some very joyful dancing.  Sally, you almost levitated with happiness when you saw Walter dancing. The two of you brought so much joy to everyone around us. With the help of a security guard, we took a family picture and headed back to the house.

We stayed overnight at Uncle Ben's parents' house--you both woke up too early! Sally, you and I did some wonderful snuggling, while Walter and Daddy watched videos until it was time to get up, play and eat some delicious breakfast. One of my hopes for the two of you is that you have friends like Ben and Arden, friends

Sally and Greta: Babies who Brunch

who are so dear they are family. We had a wonderful, relaxing morning together. Walter, you did NOT want to leave. You wanted to stay forever. We all agreed with you, but got back on the road anyway and headed home. We stopped for lunch at a truckstop diner called Norske Kitchen which specializes in popovers. It was very yummy. We picked up Hank, who had been very happy where he was but was also happy to see us again (Walter, you said, "My puppy!! There's my puppy coming back to my house!") We ate some dinner and slept well.

This weekend was particularly adventurous, but every day things happen that make me think, "I should write that down, I want to remember that forever."  Sally, you are learning how to throw a ball, and the look on your face when we play catch together is so intensely beautiful I can barely stand it. Walter, you are in love with two songs right now, "Take Up Your Spade" by Sara Watkins and "Let it Go" from the movie Frozen. There's a line in "Let it Go" that you've rewritten ... the original goes "I'm never going back/the past is in the past," but you sing it, very earnestly, "I'm never going back/the past is in the bear!"  I don't know what it means, but it strikes me as very profound. And very funny.
The past is in the bear, kids.  The past is in the bear.

I love you,
Mama

A letter to my first born on Mother's Day

Dear Walter,

You are asleep now--it's been a busy day. This whole Mother's Day weekend has been busy for you, with lots of walking outside in the (finally!) beautiful weather, making me breakfast in bed (cinnamon rolls, scrapple and tea,) eating and dancing and listening intently to Spanish guitar at the cultural festival, procuring and playing and playing and playing with an ice cream bucketful of Hot Wheels (best garage sale purchase, ever,) blowing bubbles, playing with Umma and Baba, baking cupcakes (chocolate wacky cake,) and making frosting (the best vanilla buttercream I've ever tasted,) eating cupcakes, using the potty and wearing underpants, dancing to some Irish fiddle music on the folk show, learning how to spit when you brush your teeth ... whew.

You and me and Sally this morning

You had a lot of fun this weekend, and I had a lot of fun being with you. You are two-and-half-years-old and very handsome, with wavy blonde hair, big blue eyes and your Daddy's incredibly long eyelashes. You are thoughtful; sometimes pensive. You love to sing and will often just spontaneously break out into song. "Don't tell me that it's morning," you sang to me on Saturday morning, "Just keep the curtains drawn!" "If you keep the good times rolling, I'm your boy, I'm your boy!" "It's alright to cry, crying gets the sad out of you." "And the grand facade, so soon will burn. Without a noise. Without my pride. I reach out from the inside." "Take my hand, take my whole life, too. 'Cause I can't help, falling in love with you ..."

There is so much to love about you, Walter Paul.  I love your singing and your dancing. I love the way you are usually so gentle and sweet with your sister, and how you love to make her smile and laugh, and how you taught her how to sign "more" this weekend. She loves to learn from you! I love the way you talk to yourself when you're playing, imagining conversations between you and your King Friday puppet, or between Red and Mokey fraggle. I love watching you run and skip when you're happy. I love baking with you .... you are so good at measuring out the ingredients! Most of all, though, I just love you because you are you.  You are my Scooter, and my love for you goes way beyond the way you look, or the way you act, or the things you do.

And that's a really good thing, because sometimes the things you do, these days, put you and me at odds. I've struggled a lot with how much to write about this.  Most people don't have any real memories of their lives before age 4 or so, so I wonder how wise it is to record these "terrible twos" moments in detail.  It's not your behavior I'm hoping you'll forget, though; it's mine. I get pretty angry, sometimes. I don't think I'm angry in an unusual way ... I think it's pretty normal for parents to get angry and to show it more than they'd like to.  And someday, if you have kids of your own and I'm still living, I'd like to have some very real conversations with you about what it's like to be mad at your beloved little kids.  I want to tell this future-hypothetical-father version of you, "It's OK, Walter.  It'll be OK.  You're human, and you have feelings, and you're doing the best you can.  Keep trying to do better, and to let your kids know that you love them no matter what."

Here's how I know that you and I are OK and, further more, we are going to be OK:

... the way you lean against me, or easily take my hand, or give me a hug just because.
... the way you greet me at the end of the school/work day with a joyful "Mama!" and a hug.  The way we both look for each other and look forward to that moment.
... the way you study me, looking in my eyes, and then smile. Sometimes we make eye contact across a room and smile at each other, and I realize we communicate a lot without talking, you and me.

We communicate pretty well with talking, too, although sometimes words fail us. We're working on it--both of us are. About a month (or more?) ago you asked me to play Legos with you in your room and I said yes. You headed into your room and I followed, making a very quick stop in the kitchen to grab a can of selzer on my way. When you got to your Lego table and looked back, I wasn't right there. You let out a little scream of frustration. I was just coming through the door, saying, "I'm right here!" and you said, "Mama, sometimes I need you and you are not there."

And I said, "I just stopped to get a selzer!"

But I know what you meant, and I'm proud that you could put it into words like that. That's pretty remarkable communicating, Walter.  And it's true. There are times when you need me and I'm not there.  Sometimes it's because I mostly take care of your sister and your Daddy mostly takes care of you ... that's just how it works for us, especially because I'm still Sally's main source of food. We're trying to change that up as much as we can, your Daddy and I, but we've got into the habit of dividing things up that way, so it can be hard (and hard on you and Sally, too, because you've gotten used to it) to make those changes. Sometimes I'm not there because I'm at work.  Sometimes I'm not there because I'm too slow to react or to realize that you need me and what you need me to do. I'm still learning how to be a mom, and because you are my oldest, you are my main teacher.

I wish I could always be right there, the moment you need me, and do exactly what you need me to do. Every parent falls short of that, though.  I don't know that most kids realize that about their parents at two-and-a-half, but you have always been very advanced.

You and I are going to go through times of trouble in our relationship.  I am almost positive that this current troublesome time will not be the last. I promise you that I will always do my best to be there when you need me, to be gentle with you, to help you if I can. When I fall short and let you down in these ways, I hope you will still know and trust that I love you with all my heart.  And God, who is always there in your times of need, who will never let you down, will help us get through these rough patches, forgive each other, and forgive ourselves.

I love you, Walter.  I am so proud, and glad, and grateful to be,

Your Mama

Always Being Made New

Dear Walter and Sally,

Something big happened today.  The Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, the denomination I serve as a pastor, elected a woman to be presiding bishop for the first time.

Her name is Elizabeth Eaton, and when she was elected she was serving as bishop of the Northeastern Ohio Synod. I don't know anything about her other than what I saw and read today.  She seems earnest, which I really like, and smart, and passionate about her faith and the life of the church. People who already know her as a leader say she is honest, direct and wise, and that she's weathered many storms already in her time as a synod bishop with grace and compassion and integrity.

We don't know yet what kind of presiding bishop she will be.  So far, she seems kind of nervous and overwhelmed, which is very understandable.

You're probably wondering why this is such a big deal to me.  I hope, anyway, that by the time you two read this the novelty of women reaching the highest leadership positions in the church and elsewhere is thoroughly out-of-date.

Like you, I grew up in a church where women could be ordained and serve as pastors.  The rules changed to allow it in 1970, and I was born in 1981, so I never experienced life as a Lutheran without women pastors.  The congregation I grew up in had several pastors who were women, and they had a profound influence on me and forming my faith and my identity as a Christian.  Of course, the pastors I grew up with who were men did that, too.

But it was a powerful experience for me, growing up in a predominantly Roman Catholic town, to grow up in a church where women could be pastors.  I realized very early on that I had options my Roman Catholic friends who were girls didn't have.  My parents always told me I could be anything I wanted to be, and do anything I set my mind to doing.  I felt like my church affirmed that message, not just for me but for all girls and boys: you are beloved, you are special, you are gifted and called by God ... and whatever it is that God is calling you to do, you can do it.

Of course, it wasn't completely true, back then.  There were still rules and other barriers to people being ordained and being elected to leadership positions. As I've gotten older, the church has gone through some amazing transformations that have made that feeling of being affirmed and empowered in my calling that I had as a little girl an actual reality for more and more people.  In 2009, the ELCA voted to change the rules so that people in same-sex relationships can be ordained. This year, one of my favorite professors, recently ordained, was elected as a synod bishop--the first openly gay person in a committed relationship to be elected as a bishop in the ELCA. And today, the first woman presiding bishop was elected ... and not only that, but of the top four candidates, three were women.  There wasn't just one qualified woman leader to choose, there were many.  

I used to think that I wanted to be the first woman presiding bishop in the ELCA.  The idea of being a history-maker appealed to me.  But this is so much better.  I will be able to tell you, Sally, that just before you were born a new possibility for women in the church was born, too. And Walter and Sally, you will both grow up in a church that allows me to look you in the eyes and say, with total honesty, "You can do anything God is calling you to do."  You may not want to be pastors or bishops, but being gay or straight or a man or a woman isn't automatically going to disqualify you from doing those things.  The door isn't pre-shut.  And that's a pretty exciting, wonderful thing. Something to celebrate!

The theme of the assembly that's going on right now is "Always Being Made New," so I think today and every August 14th we should celebrate Always Being Made New Day.  On that day I think our family should celebrate options and possibilities and potential.  On that day we should also celebrate Umma and Baba's wedding anniversary, because their love is Always Being Made New, too.  And also because they've always encouraged me to dream big, and to look toward the future with hope.

On that day, we should eat cake.  Because cake is delicious and Baba and I really like frosting.

Anyway, in some ways I hope this hoopla seems a little silly to you.  But I hope you also know how proud I am to be a pastor in the ELCA, and how proud I am of both of you, and how limitless your potential--our potential, all of us--seems to me right at this very moment.  I am feeling hopeful, excited, and very much being made new.

I love you!  Happy Always Being Made New Day!
Mama

Letter to one-year-old Walter

This was your first snow: November 9, 2011

Dear Walter,

Today I held you up to the window to watch the snow falling and you smiled, laughed, and pointed.  Even though it was only snowing very lightly, you could easily see it, and you knew it was something wonderful.  You are something wonderful, too.

You've been one year old for two weeks, now. You celebrated both your birthday and your Great Aunts Jan and Kim's wedding in Courtland, NY with your Swiftie relatives, including your second cousin and birthday buddy, Monica.  You had a quiet celebration at home on the 22nd with me and Daddy and a red velvet cupcake.  And we had a big party for you in the gym at church this past weekend.  We are a family that believes in extended birthday celebrations!

You watched the snow on Feb 10, 2012, too

In the midst of all this celebrating we have all been pretty sick.  That started the weekend before your birthday with a case of pink eye, followed by a stomach virus, followed by a cold, followed by an ear infection.  Me, Daddy, Umma and Baba all got versions of this, too.  Even with all this sickness, you have been having an amazing series of adventures.  To give you just one example: on our way to a meeting in Door County, we stopped to get some lunch for Daddy and you threw up in the van. We did the best we could with clean up and took you into the restaurant while we tried to decide what to do.  I set you down and you took off, running straight toward the big kids' play area, doing a happy little dance as you shimmied along. We decided to continue on to Door County, where you rampaged around the Maritime Museum like a baby pirate. You are so resilient. You keep learning, growing, and having wonderful time, even when you are sick.  You had your first airplane trips while you were sick and did beautifully, sleeping through most of both flights.  You are unstoppable!

Watching the snow today, Nov. 06, 2012

You are a very good communicator: you say "Hi!" and "Bye!", "Uh oh!" and "Row! Row!" You are working on your animal noises.  You are very good at sign language: you use your own versions of ASL signs for "all done," "more," "food," and "water/drink."  You used to use the sign for "milk" for when you want to nurse, but lately you have been snapping your fingers, instead!  You watched your Daddy snap his fingers to some music one day and immediately you started to snap, too.  That is amazing, Walter. And it's pretty funny when you snap your fingers at me when you're hungry.  You also invented your own sign for when you want to brush your teeth, brushing the tips of your fingers over your lips.  You use that sign very consistently and I'm very proud of you for coming up with it and teaching it to Daddy and me.  I'm also very proud of how much you love to brush your teeth.  I think I saw two new ones on their way in tonight--your official count these days is 9, including a one year molar that came in while we were traveling in New York. At your one year check up your stats were: head circumference: 19 in; height: 31 1/4 inches; weight: 25 lbs 10 oz. 95th percentile all around!

You love: hot dogs, Hank the Dog, Henry (your best friend from day care,) anything that plays music, music of all kinds, dancing (to the beat!) every time you hear music, and your favorite songs: "Row, Row, Row Your Boat," "The Itsy Bitsy Spider," "Patty Cake," and "African Skies" (ta-oomba-oomba-oomba-whoa-oh-oh.)  You love day care and your wonderful teachers who sing and dance with you. You love video chatting with your Grandma and Grandpa Albright and visits with your Umma and Baba.  You continue to love Baba Paul best of all the people in the world.  You love me and Daddy very much, too, and you give us wonderful hugs, kisses and snuggles.  Every once and awhile you will reach up and hold my hand, or Daddy's hand, while we walk together.  We love it when you do that.

Not sure about cake.

You are not a fan of fruit of any kind. You don't really seem to like cake or frosting, either, although today you delighted us by twisting apart an Oreo cookie and eating it just like your Daddy does.  You still cry a lot at bedtime, frustrated with all of the things that need to be done before we get to nursing and going to bed.  You love baby Advil (white grape flavor ... and you seem to know that it helps with ear and teething pain) but don't like other medicines very much, although you're getting used to nose drops for congestion.  You don't like being slowed down by being sick ... or by baby safety gates ... or by anything or anyone that might slow you down!

I've been writing this letter while watching election night coverage--they just announced that President Obama was reelected.  You are fast asleep, but earlier this evening you enjoyed dancing to the trumpet-heavy election theme music on the radio.  You won't remember this election, but I will remember how you liked to steal our "I voted" stickers.  I'd like to think that shows an early interest in citizenship and democracy.

Walter, I can't begin to tell you what this year has meant and means to me.  I'm not sure I know how to explain it to myself yet, either.  Here's what I know: I love you with my whole heart, my whole self.  I feel like I've known you and loved you much longer than this one year, longer even than the ten months before you were born. I think I have always loved you, my whole life long.  This love isn't based on how smart you are, how handsome, how strong, or how funny, although you are all of those things and more.  This love is yours just because you are. It's the human equivalent of the much greater love that God, your Mother in heaven, has for you. It's a love that is all yours, always, no matter what.  That is something you can know without a doubt: I love you, your Daddy loves you, you are loved by family and friends around the world, God loves you ... you are loved!

Walter, Walter, you are loved
By friends on earth and friends above
Love surrounds you every day
And when you sleep, in love you stay

Goodnight, sweet one-year-old. Here's to all the years of adventures ahead of you!

Love love love,
Mommy

You're on your way!

Letter to Walt on Father's Day

Dear Walter,

Happy Father's Day!

Let me back up a little bit. Walter, you are so blessed.  One of the ways you are especially blessed is with male role models: men who love you, pray for you, and take great joy and pride in you as you grow. You have a wonderful Daddy; two wonderful Grandpas; three wonderful uncles (Jimmy, Brian and Matthew) and  many wonderful "appended" uncles (Ben, Curtis, John and Josh come to mind.) But, as I think about Father's Day, I'm thinking especially much about two of the most important men in your life and mine: your daddy, who is my husband, and my daddy, who is your Grandpa Paul.

Sometimes when you're getting a little rowdy with me--pulling hair is a new favorite, as is stealing glasses and engaging in high intensity zumba moves while nursing--your daddy will talk to you in a soothing voice, reminding you to be gentle with your mommy.  He started doing that even before you were born, during those last months of pregnancy when you seemed to be aiming your feet right at my kidney.  He would put his hand on my belly, get really close to you and say, "Walter, Walter.  Settle down.  Be nice to Mommy," and you'd feel the warmth and weight of his hand, and hear his voice, and you'd settle down.

Sleeping soundly on Daddy

Daddy rocks you and walks with you at night; when you're sick or teething or just can't sleep.  You hold onto him very close and tight like a little baby monkey, hanging on with your hands and feet and whole little self.  He sings to you--all sorts of songs, but especially "Rainbow Connection."  He makes up games to make you laugh and smile at times when you're sad or scared or nervous.  When you were very little you didn't like having your diaper changed and you'd scream and cry like the world was about to end.  Then Daddy started playing the "blast off" game.  He'd say "One ... two ... three ... blast off!" and hit a button that made the changing table vibrate.  You'd stop crying and smile; soon you would start anticipating the game and get happy as soon as he said the word "One ..."  When you had a new diaper and were all dressed again he'd lift you up high in the air and say, "Good job, little astronaut!"

More recently, Daddy invented a game we play while we're feeding you.  We choose one letter of the alphabet and come up with a new word for each spoonful you eat, repeating the first sound until you open your mouth. For example: (Spoon approaching your mouth) Ah-ah-ah-ah (spoon enters your mouth) alternator! This game is a lot of fun for us, and we think you like it, too.

Daddy loves to pick you up and hug you. "My boy!" he says, "Oh, I love my boy!" Walter, I've said this before and I'm going to say it again and again: you are loved.  And your Daddy loves you so much: not just when you two are playing and hugging and having fun, but also when he's putting saline in your nose when you're all stuffed up, when he's changing your massively poopy diapers, when you're pulling out his chest hair, when you're fighting sleep and when you're mad at the world. He loves you then, too, and he sticks with you and holds you and says in that soothing voice you've known since you could hear your first sounds, "Walter ... Walter .... It's OK, buddy. It's OK."

So happy with Grandpa Paul!

You love Grandpa Paul's voice, too.  You love to put your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat and his voice.  You've been doing that since you were born, and you always get this faraway look in your eyes, like you are being transported to a calm, happy place.  You look up at him with this pure look of awe and adoration--it's a look you really only give to him, a special loving gaze just for Grandpa Paul. When he leaves the room, you're distraught (we came up with a new rule during this week of vacation together: Grandpa Paul  never leaves the room.)  When he enters the room, you giggle and grin with pure joy and raise your arms up into the air, asking him to pick you up and snuggle you.

I remember it took me a long time to realize and understand that my Umma was my mom's mom, so this concept might be a little advanced for you, but it's true: your Grandpa Paul is my daddy.  He held me up to his chest when I was a baby, and I felt (and feel, still) safe and happy there just like you do.  When I see you and Grandpa Paul together it makes me appreciate my daddy more than ever, and seeing the way he loves you makes me realize how much he loves me, too.*

Dropper feeding

Your first week of life was so hard.  Daddy and Grandma Sue had to go back to work and I was very sick and couldn't do much to help you.  Your Grandpa Paul took care of both of us. One of the things he did a lot of was dropper feed you a couple ounces of formula or expressed breast milk so I could have a break and get some rest.  Dropper feeding is really slow, difficult work.  It takes a long time and a lot of patience.

This Father's Day, I'm thinking of your Grandpa Paul, operating on very little sleep himself, leaning over you with his pinky in your mouth, patiently feeding you drop by drop.  That image communicates a lot of what you and I both love so much about him, and also how lucky we are to have him in our lives.  Grandpa Paul is so generous--a wonderful trait that my daddy and your daddy have in common.

Walter, you and I have a lot in common.  We have the same mouth and the same dimpled chin.  We have big, enthusiastic personalities and we never do anything halfway. But what we're celebrating today is something else we have in common: we have generous, loving, devoted, funny, creative, wonderful wonderful fathers. So, a happy Father's Day to your daddy and to my daddy, and to you and me, too.  We are so lucky, we are so blessed.

Happy Father's Day!
Love,
Your mommy, your daddy's wife and your Grandpa Paul's daughter

Father's Day 2011

Father's Day 2012

  

*I need to mention, here, that your Grandma Sue is pretty incredible, too, and in fact while I was writing this she coaxed a very cranky baby (you) to sleep with nothing but her beautiful voice, her comforting arms and her incredible love for you.  But I missed my chance to write a proper Mother's Day post this year, so that blogged appreciation will have to be spread out across other posts on other days. Kind of an extended Mother's Day, where we can make it last extra long. =)

Off the charts

Dear Walter,

You are six months old.  It's cliche to talk about how fast the time has gone by, but it's also true.  And it makes me really anxious about the next six months, and all the baby-proofing we probably should have done  by now!  For example, you used to enjoy table cloths on an aesthetic level.  You liked looked at the patterns and scratch the surface with your fingernails.  Now, you grab and pull. Hard. With intent to topple.

You are mind bogglingly smart and coordinated. I love the way you nonchalantly do new and amazing things.  When Grandma Sue and Grandpa Paul were here for Easter, you started un-stacking rings. We all completely flipped out over it and you were like,"hey, no big thing" as you effortlessly passed the ring from one hand to the other, waving it around while making UFO noises. You can re-stack the rings, too, but that's kind of boring to you.  You prefer taking two similar-sized rings and clapping them together in time to music.

Yesterday, Daddy and I were feeling a little down, a lot sick, and very broken. We let you play with your spoon for awhile while we gazed morosely into space for a moment.  We looked back at you just in time to watch you perfectly hold your spoon and, without any hesitation, put it into your mouth and serve yourself a little rice cereal. You're not supposed to be able to do that yet!  We showered you with claps and yays, and you smiled back at us, pleased and wondering what all the fuss was about.

The sickness and brokenness is in its second week.  Your fifth month was fabulously healthy right up until the last week before you hit that six month milestone.  You started getting sick on Sunday; by Wednesday you had pink eye in both eyes; a week later we started you on antibiotics for a double ear infection and a sinus infection.  Daddy and I are sick, too.  Sometimes the three of us sit around and cough at each other (occasionally, you think this is kind of funny, but you're also pretty sick of coughing these days.)  You've been incredibly resilient and a very good sport about it all, interspersed with times of extreme-but-understandable crankiness.

Right in the middle of the sickness, we took you out of state for the first time.  The timing, it could have been better.  But you were brave and took Minnesota by storm.  While I went to my meetings, you and Daddy strolled the Minneapolis Skyway, charming many sandwich and cupcake vendors along the way.  We found out that you're scared of elevators, but by the end of the weekend you'd decided they were tolerable. Because you were sick and far from the comforts of home, you got to do things you're not normally allowed to do, like watch TV and jump on the bed.  You were quite pleased with both of those activities!  You also got to spend time with Aunt Arden and Uncle Ben, and your cousins, Craig, Gina, Lydia and Eleanor Edison. Eleanor is almost 2 and was pretty amazed by you.  She kept coming over to me and saying, "Baby? Baby?" whenever you went out of sight.  She gave you the sweetest, most gentle hug.

Because you've been sick, you haven't had your 6 month check-up/vaccines with Dr. L yet (although you have seen a lot of him, lately!) We did get some stats on you this week: height, 26 and 3/4 inches (Daddy thinks they didn't stretch you out to your full height); weight, 22 pounds and 2 ounces.  You're in the 90th percentile for height and head-size and off the charts for weight.  We are very proud of how robust and strong you are. We think it helps you weather the ups and downs of baby life with grace and a little extra padding for safety.

Other highlights of your fifth month and sixth-month-so-far:
**As mentioned above, you're eating solid foods now!  You're doing great with the rice cereal and most of it does seem to end up in your belly (while a good portion is always reserved for mushing with your fingers.)
**You can roll all the way from your belly to your back and back to your belly again.  You can sit on your own without support.  You are getting really good at the "controlled fall" when you get tired of sitting up and want to be on your belly.
**You like to do leg extensions while you nurse.  Also, you do full-on push ups, with your arms extended all the way, your knees off the ground, balancing up on your toes.  It's pretty incredible.
**Sometimes you say "Da Da" for several minutes straight.

Like this, but really really angry.

**When you're mad, the space between your eyebrows furrows deeply.  You look like President Eisenhower.
**You love baths. Splash splash splash!  You have mixed feelings about bathtime ending.
**We don't have to trick you into sleeping in a crib anymore. We used to get you to sleep (by nursing/rocking/repeated singings of "Rainbow Connection") and then very carefully transfer you into your bed.  Often, when your head hit the mattress you would wake up, screaming of betrayal.  Now, you get a little sleepy in our arms and start arching away from us, casting longing looks in the direction of your crib.  We put you down on your side and tuck you in with a blanket.  You cuddle one of your favorite toys--one of your monkeys, often, or your lullaby seahorse--sigh, blink heavily, and eventually fall asleep.

This morning I gave you your antibiotics and you said, "phhhbbbbt.  Aghaghaggh. *head shake.*"  I looked in your mouth and caught sight of a newly erupted tooth, right in the front on the top. The one right next to that does not look to be far behind. You sucked happily on a wet wash cloth for awhile, and then I got you dressed up for picture day at day care (your first school pictures!)  I've lost my voice, so I had to whisper your morning song: "Good morning to you! Good morning to you! We're all in our places with bright shining faces.  Oh this is the way to start out the day!"  You leaned in to hear me, smiling conspiratorially.

You, my dear Walter, are off the charts.

-Your Goopy Mommy

Singing together on your 6 month birthday.

The Third Month of Walter

Dear Walter,

Walt and Snow, 11/09/11

Walt and Snow, 02/10/12

This morning I held you up to the window to see the new snow falling and thought about how we watched your first snow from the same window three months ago.  So much has changed! You hold your head up without any help from me, now.  I hold you with more confidence, too: I've gotten good practice!  You are bigger and stronger and more expressive than ever.  But, remember, even from the very beginning (and even before you were born!) you've always been expressive and funny.  You've had a wonderful Walter personality right from the start.

These days you express yourself with beautiful smiles, gorgeous giggles, and even big belly laughs when you're happy.  It's impossible not to smile when you smile and laugh when you laugh.  You are ticklish under your arms, on the back of your neck and on your belly.  We think your feet might be ticklish, too, but we're still keeping your toes covered most of the time in footie pajamas.  You are wearing 9 month sized clothes these days.

When you were very little, you slept, cried and ate most of the time.  You had two "sweet spots" each day: around 9 am and 5 pm were happy times for you, and we did a lot of learning and playing during those hours.  Now, instead of sweet spots, you are just plain sweet: most of your day is spent smiling, reaching, interacting and watching the world intently.  While you're very outgoing, you have quiet times, too.  You seem to appreciate the opportunity to just chill out now and then, leaning against me or your Daddy just being calm and relaxed.

You think Grandma Sue is very funny

You love to laugh at: "The Wheels on the Bus," especially the "beep beep beep" part, when we give you little squeezes under your arms with each "beep"; funny noises, like rolled r's and motor sounds; funny faces, especially when made by Grandma Sue or Grandma Albright; and kisses on your belly from your Daddy and kisses on your cheeks and neck from me.  Sometimes you giggle when I'm getting ready to feed you and you're happy and excited that you get to nurse.  You love to laugh and smile at people who you are just getting to know and like, especially all your friends at church and at daycare.

You are a snuggle bunny

You started daycare a little less than a month ago and you seem to love it there. You smile at the other babies, especially Taylor and Bella.  Ms. Donna is your main teacher and you are very fond of her.  You've also charmed all the other teachers who come in throughout the day to help Ms. Donna.  Every time we drop you off or pick you up we hear that you are such a happy, sweet baby.  When someone is cuddling you, you cuddle back, giving wonderful hugs.

When we pick you up from daycare you are very happy to see us: you give a big smile and do a little excited shimmy with your whole body.  We are very happy to see you, too.   We miss you during the day and look forward to our evening times together.  We sing and read to you, feed you and cuddle you.  You go to bed around 8 pm.  You were having trouble sleeping for awhile because you had a couple of bad colds and coughs this month.  Last night you slept for 6 and half hours straight, nursed, and then slept for three hours more.  We are hoping that is your new sleeping pattern!  You are starting to feel better after your cold, which is a big relief to all of us.

Sad face!

When you're sad, you cry very loudly and earnestly, with lots of tears and a very sad or angry expression on your face. Sometimes before you start crying you stick out your lower lip, which is very cute, but it's our cue that you're going to cry so we try to hurry up and comfort you when we see it.  You cry when you're very hungry and the food isn't getting to you quickly enough.  You cry when you're very sleepy and you don't want to fall asleep.  You cry when Daddy and I are eating dinner and you want us to pick you up and pay attention to you.  Sometimes you cry when you first wake up, but not always.  You don't cry as much as you used to, and it usually doesn't last very long.  We are getting better at figuring out what you want when you're crying, and you are also getting good at letting us know what you want in other ways, through other sounds and expressions you make with your hands and face.

When you rub your eyes, we know you're getting sleepy.  When you say "goo," you're usually hungry.  When you want us to pick you up, you make eye contact with us and smile, staying very still and quiet until we come to pick you up, and then you do your happy shimmy.  When you want to chew on something (we think you are probably starting to get your first teeth) you grab our hands, bring them up to your mouth and bite down with all your might.  It hurts a little, but not as much as it's going to when those teeth come through!

Nursing makes you sleepy! 

One of my favorite things you do is hold my hand while you nurse.   Nursing helps you relax, and you like to fold your hands together over your belly in a very contented way, or you stroke my arm with your hand, or put your hand on mine and give a gentle squeeze.  It's a special time for you and me, both.  It still doesn't always work perfectly--sometimes the milk is too much, too fast--but when it does work, it's pretty perfect.

You like toys you can bite on and hold onto easily.  You like burp cloths and your Minky (a monkey head attached to a little blanket ... you're holding it in the picture to the left.) because you like rubbing the soft cloth on your face and chewing on it, too.  Hank the Dog also likes your toys.  He loves and is very protective of you, and he loves to groom you, licking your face, head, toes and ears.  You put up with this admirably.

Dates to remember:

**January 8, the day you were baptized into the family of God.  I got to be both your pastor and your Mommy at your baptism, which made me very happy.  Your Grandma Sue and Grandpa Paul made a book of pictures and recorded their voices reading the story of your baptism.

Baptism Day with Grandma and Grandpa Albright (and Daddy)

**The week of your baptism your Grandma and Grandpa Albright visited from Philadelphia.  Grandma taught you how to find your toes, grab your toys and start pulling yourself up while holding our fingers.  She gave you baths, taught us how to clip your fingernails (they get very long, very fast! And sharp!), and she made you laugh and laugh and laugh.  Grandpa was very good at rocking you to sleep and making you smile.  They love you and miss you and can't wait to see you again!
**January 17 was Mommy's 31st birthday and January 18 was your first day at daycare.  It was a special time for Mommy and Daddy because we remembered that, a year ago at that time, you were conceived and started your amazing journey of growing and getting ready to be born.

You and Grandpa Paul are very cute

**January 22 was your 3 month birthday, which we celebrated with Grandma Sue and Grandpa Paul at their house in Johnson Creek.  We celebrated Grandpa's birthday on February 3, which was also a special date for Mommy and Daddy because it's the one year anniversary of finding out we were going to have a baby ... you!  We also celebrated that Grandma Sue and Grandpa Paul sold their house in Chicago and are living just 2 hours away, now.  They love to visit and love you very much.  Grandpa says his shoulder feels very empty when you're not there.

Soul brothers and Soul sisters

**January 28 you got to meet your soul brother, Bennett, for the first time.  Bennett was born the same week as you and baptized the same day as you.  Bennett's mom, Heidi, and I are soul sisters; we've been friends since we were 12 years old and met at LOMC, a Lutheran summer camp.  Bennett's mom is a Pastor Mommy, too.

This is the story of how we begin to remember

The changes in you this month are significant but subtle--each day we notice something new.  One day you started squeaking when you were happy.  Another day you woke up and looked much taller than when you went to sleep.  You recognize favorite songs and stories, now.  I've been singing you the Paul Simon song, "African Skies" since you were born.  The chorus (Ta oomba oomba oomba whoa-oh-oh) has always calmed you when you're crying.  Now, when I start to sing it, you smile.  You recognize it.  It makes me think of the part of the song that goes like this: "This is the story of how we begin to remember. This is the powerful pulsing of love in the vein."  Even though you won't remember being 3 months old, you are, in a way, beginning to remember.  You know you are loved, you know you love music and stories, you know your family and your friends.  You are writing your story every day.

Ta oomba oomba,
Mommy

Merry Christmas, Walter!

Walt's first picture with Santa ... at church. =)

Dear Walter,

Today is your first Christmas. You are taking a snooze in your swing right now, holding onto one of your monkeys ("Minky") which is a new skill and helping you stay calm and cozy when you sleep.  This has been a wonderful day!

You didn't sleep very well last night ... your pediatrician says we can't swaddle you anymore because you're too strong and escape from your swaddler.  You have an excellent startle reflex that wakes you up, but holding onto a monkey (in this case, "Rumple") seems to help.  You're also getting over your first cold, which makes it hard for you to breathe sometimes.  Even though you've been sick this week you've been so good--giving us big smiles and singing Christmas songs with us (You do the backup singer "oooh" and "ahhh" parts.)

Walter and Minky

So, it was a busy night but not a bad night.  You ate every two hours but didn't do much fussing.  I think you were too excited to sleep for long, knowing that Christmas was coming.  I was too excited to sleep too--very energized by our Christmas Eve services at church.  You went to the 4:30 pm service with Daddy and Grandma Sue.  Grandma got to hold you and give you a bottle while we sang "Silent Night," which was a very special bonding moment for you and her.

Christmas morning started at 6 am with some momma milk and breakfast for the grownups (cereal and the leftover cinnamon buns from your 2 month birthday celebration.  Daddy revived the stale buns by frying them up with some butter.  Daddy knows how to do Christmas right!)

You were in a great mood all morning.  You slept on the way to church, woke up and got a bottle before the service started.  You seemed to really love the sound of the cello playing Christmas hymns. Your grandpa held you and you smiled at me during the service, which gave me the courage to give my first notes-free sermon (I dressed up as Mary and talked about the Christmas story from her point of view.  It was pretty fun and I felt like I could speak about birth with some more authority this year.)

When we got home you had a nice meal and fell asleep. The grownups ate a delicious lunch of creamed shrimp over pancakes (Daddy had his pancakes with butter and syrup instead.)  After a little nap for you and me it was time to open presents.  After a little snack you woke up bright eyed, alert, happy and very interested in everything going on. We got some great pictures, including pictures of us with pictures and looking at other pictures. You are already a very well-documented baby!

For Christmas this year you got two beautiful hats (big enough for your 90th percentile giant noggin!), books from Grandma and Grandpa Edison-Swift, new outfits (at two months old you are wearing 6 month old clothes!), some great furniture for your room from the Albrights, and toys for bath time and tummy time. You are very, very good at tummy time, lifting your head up high and rocking back and forth, trying to roll over.  You're also getting very good at grabbing things and putting them in your mouth.

2 month birthday (a sweet tradition!)

After some spittin' and fussin' (not too much of either, thankfully) you are taking a lovely Christmas snooze (let's make that an annual tradition!)  What a day!  What a week!  You celebrated your 2 month birthday on Thursday and got your first vaccines on Friday.  You were very brave for your shots and stopped crying as soon as Daddy picked you up and I nursed you. Your Grandpa Paul has been with us most of the week, helping us take care of you through your cold.  You love to put your head down on Grandpa's chest, listening to his voice and his heartbeat until you fall asleep.

We are very proud of you, Scooter.  We love watching you grow and change and take more and more delight and interest in the world around you.  Here are some of the things you love to do these days:
**Smile real smiles, absolutely beaming when you're happy
**Grabbing, especially with your right hand
**Spitting up your milk (ick! But it does make you smile. You smile very big when we clean your face with a soft burp rag.)
**Lifting your legs to help us on the changing table (very helpful!)
**Lifting your arms to be burped after meals
**Intentional snuggling, not just passing out after meals.  You get all cozy with us, especially with Grandpa Paul.

Merry Christmas, Walter Paul!