Thoughts on family life
These two peas-in-a-pod have been sitting on my kitchen counter since January.
Dear friends put on a baby shower for the twins and their momma.
Every cupcake at the party was topped with these sweet peas.
This is how I’ve been picturing the babies on the day of their birth.
Two darling little faces peeking out from their pod, both with big smiles.
And a pink bow in her hair.
This is the mother-to-be, back in the day.
She loved her blankie with all her heart.
See how she put the cloth right up against her little nose?
This allowed her to suck on her two middle fingers, while the index finger kept the blankie steady.
She had the system down.
Over time, blankie looked a little worse for wear.
Over a long time, blankie got smaller and smaller.
Over a long, long time, this was all that was left of beloved blankie.
I know.
Hard to believe she could love something so much.
She’s about to find out how much more love she has to give.
God bless all the babies and their blankies.
I came into the world on a quiet Sunday afternoon in November.
The Green Bay Packers lost to the New York Giants 20-3 that day.
Other than that, there wasn’t much news to report.
On the day PB was born, there was an earthquake and a tsunami.
That should tell you something.
There’s a 50 – 50 chance of snow on the 18th.
That’s a good forecast for twins.
When I was a freshman in college, I spent part of a semester living in a two-person dorm room with two other people. That makes three people (I told you I went to college) in a little bitty space. We had a triple-decker bunk bed and I got the top, which was about twelve inches from the ceiling. We all got along just fine, but after a while, it got a little cramped. Having two roommates was an interesting experience but not one I’d care to repeat.
I wonder if my twin grandchildren are starting to feel like it’s time to find a bigger place.
They have been good little roommates, but there’s a nice crib waiting for them with lots of room for stretching.
“You knit me together in my mother’s womb.” Psalm 139:13
Dear God,
It’s time to put the finishing touches on these two masterpieces You are creating.
Just a few more details and they will be complete.
A wisp of hair for her, a dimple for him.
Perfect.
We don’t want to rush You……
…..but are You almost done?
Amen.
To my daughter who is due to give birth to twins any day now:
You have one less hour to be pregnant!
Springing ahead never seemed like such a good idea….
…until now.
A friend of mine sent me this picture by photographer Anne Geddes and I couldn’t resist sharing it, in light of yesterday’s post.
I promise I will not put the newborn twins in watermelon rinds.
They aren’t in season yet.
Watermelons, I mean.
I also promise not to use the word watermelon in my next post.
The countdown is on.
11 days to go.
My baby is going to bring not one, but two babies into the world.
The “Pregnancy: What to Expect” app is telling me that a baby is as big as a watermelon at 38 weeks.
What my app doesn’t know is that there are two watermelons inside my daughter.
I carried two watermelons around the grocery store today, just to see.
I didn’t like it.
I hope these two watermelons come soon.
I’m dreaming of “Goodnight Moon” and “God Gave Us You”.
I’m dreaming of a size 12 month coat hanging on the tree with a diaper bag full of stray Cheerios.
I’m dreaming of a basket full of trains and hammers and animals.
I’m dreaming of a big box of teeny tiny books scattered all over a living room.
I’m dreaming of the curly-swirly softness of one year old hair.
I’m dreaming of holding a dimpled hand in the back seat of a Subaru.
I’m dreaming of playing the tickle-my-wiggly-toes game.
I’m dreaming of watching the snow fall out a front door.
I’m dreaming of a Packer-boy sitting on a carpet reading books.
Sometimes dreams come true.
I’ve been spending time with Hudson this week. My grandson will be one year old in a few days. He is the joy of my heart and I am soaking up baby love. My plan was to post lots and lots of pictures of Hud Bud and report on all his antics. I came equipped with a computer and a new iphone. Even so, it didn’t happen and there are three reasons why.
First, I couldn’t take my eyes off the child long enough to grab the camera and shoot. Every magical moment was worth capturing, but I was so captured by him that it seemed almost irreverent to break the spell with a camera.
Second, we were without an internet connection for a few days. It was horrible and wonderful. I missed checking the blog, Facebook, email, news — but there was plenty of time to read “Mr. Brown Can Moo, Can You?” over and over to a giggling boy. There’s no comparison.
Third, I did try to take some pics, but every one of them is a blur. To be sure, that’s a reflection on my poor photography skills. Hudson, however, did not stay put for a second, ever. We’ll both work on it.
There. Those are all my excuses. And now, here is where my heart is.
As I was scrolling through all those blurry photos on my phone, I thought, “How appropriate.” Life is a blur, isn’t it? Wasn’t I just the one passing dreary winter afternoons with little ones who didn’t take long enough naps? Was it that long ago that I was cutting toast up into tiny bite-sized pieces for the child in the high chair? Has it been years since the smell of fresh-washed babies slathered with Baby Magic filled the air?
Thinking back, I remember feeling utterly overwhelmed one Saturday night. PB and I had gotten four children in and out of the tub — scrubbed, rubbed dry and in their jammies. “And now,” I thought, “I have to trim eighty fingernails and toenails.” Eighty! I didn’t know how I could possibly carry the responsibility of eighty fingers and toes to trim and love and kiss and teach. Somehow we made it. We all survived.
Today I prayed for a moment of clarity in the midst of the motion.
I tip-toed into Hudson’s room and watched his little body breath in and out.
Stillness. Rest. That’s how to stop the blur.
a small drop of ink 