Scrambled Thoughts XIX

1) This guy solidly owns the title "Middle Child"

Which, according to the books, makes his life hard. But what about all the awesome things about being a middle child?! He might feel displaced and unsure of whether he fits in with the older kids or the younger kids, but doesn't that mean that he gets to choose? Not many kids get to float back and forth and pick their own adventure. Big kids going to the amusement park, little kids going to Chuck-E-Cheese? He'll pick Chuck-E-Cheese and have a fantastic time with Timothy. Big kids running down to the park, little kids jumping on the trampoline? He'll pick running down to the park and have a fantastic time with Carson and McKenzie. Basketball with the big kids or Wii with the little kids? How lucky he is to be able to choose.

I have noticed that it's harder for him to grab my attention, though. I tend to get caught up in the big kids' stories or the little kids needs and Miles will have to fight extra hard. Thankfully I'm conscious of this and so try to neutralize it. But in the events when I don't do such a good job, how lucky he is to be learning the skills of 'being heard' and 'solving his own problems'.

Lucky kid.

2) An Apple a Day...

...is really hard to talk your kids into. It's just that crackers and cheeze-its and fruit snacks live in the pantry, so...

I've tried to take them out of my pantry, but somehow they keep ending up in my shopping cart. Blast the ease of 'convenience'.

3) That moment when you look at your child's face and...

...um. What?

Perhaps we should have had a discussion about playing with the old firewood from the fireplace. And then again, perhaps not. Because, boys. And fun.

4) When Mama says don't eat popcorn on the carpet,

I guess this works. See that cute little nugget in the baby swing? She might as well get used to movie and popcorn nights.

5) Carson has found his new statement piece.

His 4th grade teacher, Mr. Newkirk, is probably the best teacher out there. Fun, loud, a bit disorganized, and owner of the classroom pet snake. Randomly throughout the year he'll pick a kid to wear the snake around his neck and the kids think it's delightful. Just look at that smile!

6) I have a thing about great children's books

I really do. And this is a great one. This book pulls Timothy so far into the story that he'll shout advice to the characters all along the way and groan with disapproval every time they make another silly mistake. It's an adventure.

A Camera Can't Love

With each of my babies I've tried to do a little photo shoot sometime in their first few weeks. They're just so squishy and beautiful.

This time I felt a bit more confident going into it. I have, after all, wielded a camera for years and years and, while I certainly don't consider myself to be a professional photographer, I had had a cute little successful newborn shoot just months earlier with my sweet niece, Olivia. So when my own beautiful newborn came along I thought I'd be able to hammer out the session and come away with a few priceless pictures that captured her perfection.

But, it didn't happen that way. I tried one day and couldn't get her to sleep soundly enough. So I tried another day and couldn't get the lighting on her face just right. So I tried another day and didn't like the way the blankets crinkled in the background... and I got discouraged. And then the postpartum tears started. And, since they were postpartum tears, they didn't stop. (What IS it with those postpartum tears?!)

One day, after another failed attempt, I came away with weepy eyes and decided that it was time to stop reaching for that perfection I so desperately wanted. I knew I had plenty of 'good' photos, and I knew it was time to start embracing those.

So I picked that sweet little Eliza up after that last failed attempt and snuggled her close. I let the tears fall and gave myself over to the fact that I would just have to commit her beautiful face to memory.

It's been a while now since I captured these photos (I'm writing this post a whole year later), and looking back on them I'm surprised at how much of a failure I felt they were at the time. I still see the imperfections, of course. And I still don't quite know how to fix them. But they aren't nearly as bad as I remember them being.

Others around me tried to tell me. My mom, Brian... they said that they were good and that I could be proud of them. They said that Eliza looked as precious and adorable in the photos as she did in real life. But I couldn't see it. And I didn't believe them.

To me there was something missing. Something... important. But I didn't know what it was, and I couldn't find it.

Today, looking back, I think I've found it. Not in the pictures, but in the memories. I knew even then that Eliza is probably my last baby... how do I capture that in a photo? The hours and hours spent through the dead of night loving her, nursing her, watching her... how do I capture that in a photo? Her eyes and lips that looked like my own, her nose and face that looked like the man that I love, and the feeling that that generates?... how do I capture that in a photo? The peace in our home, the love from her siblings, the warmth of her belly, the softness of her cheeks... how do I capture those in a photo?

I don't know.

I think I was too close to her to be able to feel satisfied in capturing her. There was too much depth to my feelings to be able to see it in any still frame shot. Because no matter how hard I try, a camera can never see a person the way a person sees a person because a camera can't love. Pictures can be powerful, so very powerful, but they have their limits.

And the depth of love between a mother and her child may be the deepest feeling of all.

Mini Photo Shoot

While all of the family went to church, little Eliza and I held a mini-photo shoot because she is just. so. precious.  One tiny little week old.

I rummaged around through my closets in search of some textures and colors and fell in love with this baby pink scarf. Isn't it perfect?

The irony of how I, myself, looked, and of how my home looked as I was taking pictures of this beautiful little scene was humorous to me, and part of me wished I had turned the camera around to snap a picture of the disheveled mess of real life.

But instead, I found sweetness in creating a little piece of beauty right in the middle of all the chaos. I moved the cereal bowls and boxes from the kitchen table to the kitchen counter, and I moved the milk there, too. Because sometimes putting the milk in the fridge seems like going the extra mile. I wiped the dried eggs and syrup off of the table with a warm washcloth and kicked all the shoes and crusty bread pieces out of my camera's sight.

And then I put a sweet, white basket in the center of the space I had cleared. And I filled it with soft fabrics, and pulled my favorite arrangement of flowers to stand beside it.

I didn't pretend that the chaos wasn't there, just there, all around me. I didn't pretend that my teeth were brushed or that my hair was silky and clean. I just focused on the beauty that was right in front of my eyes. The little smile, the tiny fingers, the perfect nose, and the sweetest, milky skin.

And I felt blessed.

Easter Time, Easter Time

Dying Easter eggs is probably my very least favorite tradition of all the traditions.  

It's messy and complicated and requires much more skill than you'd think, or at least much more than the average child carries around. At first, the child is much too young to even realize what is going on and is much more interested in eating the crayons, or drinking the dye, or hearing the satisfying splat when a hard boiled egg hits the floor. Then they grow a bit and want to participate, but their little, fat hands certainly can't balance an egg on the end of a small, flimsy, wiry, egg holder, and they don't have the patience to slowly submerge their egg in the dye, so instead they plop it into the dye sending splashes of color across the table.

Soon, they begin to want multi-toned eggs, but their motor skills are not refined enough to hold an egg completely still to create the even lines they crave, so tears are shed and you are left to convince them that the overlap is actually better than a perfect line because, just look at that beautiful new color in the middle!

And then, finally, finally, they are able to largely navigate themselves - feeling proud and artistic and only lashing out occasionally to a sibling who has taken too much time in the color of choice.

There never seem to be quite enough eggs to keep everyone satisfied. Boiling a dozen eggs only gives each child three (if the adults take none) which, I suppose means we could just boil more, but I cringe a little at the thought of boiling more eggs than we can eat.

But we still come back to it year after year because, somehow, in the minds of the children all of that frustration and fighting and crying morphs into a memory of fun. 

Easter morning, however, is much better and watching my kids hunt for Easter eggs sits much more solidly in the 'Traditions I Like' category.

Here are my 5 coming down the stairs that Easter morning. Little Eliza is tucked up in Kenzie's arms and I didn't think it would be safe for Kenzie to hold her up and closer to the banister because... what if. So you can't see her precious little face very well. But she's there!

And here they are halfway down the stairs looking elated that I wanted another picture of them all together before they dashed off in search of candy.

The Easter bunny was clever this year and hid many of the eggs outside. Which was delightful because being outside on a beautiful spring morning is one of my favorite things. These roses are also some of my favorite things because I pruned these suckers like crazy in early February, so they feel a little like a present to me.

The hunt was successful and each kid came away with a basket full of eggs.

It took McKenzie most of the morning and a large chunk of Dad's help to find all of her eggs. The Easter Bunny hid them so well I bet he wouldn't have even remembered where he put them if he were asked.

Daddy was a great counter and helped Teek make sure he had found all of his colors.

Then it was time to get ready for church. The whole family got dressed and ready (except for me because, baby) and looked so beautiful that the camera came out again to try to capture them in all their sweetness.

Happy Easter, everyone!

First Bath

Like I always say, nothing causes a family to gather like a baby's first bath.

I never say that.

But it happened to be true of Eliza's first bath.  The children came running in from all corners of the yard and house when they heard that it was time to give Eliza her first bath.  Timothy chattered excitedly about water and towels and soap, and took testing the water temperature very seriously, and Miles bounced around flashing his excited eyes, which are some of my very, very favorite.

Eliza didn't mind the bath too terribly...

But it's hard to know whether or not she would have actually enjoyed it had it not been for all of the small, unpracticed hands dripping water all over her face help that she had.

The children were as gentle as could be, and every single one of them took turns rinsing and soothing and stroking her hair. Some serious love was floating all over in that little bathroom.

And after all was said and done we got to introduce the kids to the joy of snuggling a freshly washed baby.

The First Week

I'm not sure there is anything quite so sweet as the first week at home with a newborn. The sleep deprivation is real, but somehow that seemed to be swallowed up for me in that first week and I found myself staring at her beautiful face through the smallest hours of the morning, in no hurry to place her back into her crib even though she and the rest of the world slept.

Even after the first week and into the first month, I would wake with her small cries and feel no frustration, only excitement that I could pick her up and feed her and snuggle her again. Perspective had a lot to do with it, I think.  I know how fast they grow.  In fact, one day as I was cradling Eliza's perfect little face in my hands, thinking about baby McKenzie and marveling at how much Eliza looks like her, I happened to see the Now McKenzie out of the corner of my eye with her long legs sprawled all over the couch and her hair beautiful and billowy around her teenage face, and my brain screamed. How in the world?! Wasn't I just holding McKenzie just like this? 

I was.

And now I'm not. And before I know it I'll catch a glimpse of Eliza sprawled out in the same way and I'll wonder how in the world. Somehow, that perspective makes those midnight feedings feel beautiful and precious.

It helps that she's such a good sleeper, too. She wakes up hungry, of course, but then falls right back asleep, content and happy to give me another good chunk of time before she needs me again. 

Sometimes she keeps her eyes open for a while, and those are some perfect moments, too. Especially when she can't quite align them.

It really must be so weird to be a newborn.

Her eyes are so bright and beautiful - we love it when we can stare into them. And that cute little stand up hair in the back! Precious.

We all love to cuddle her, and it makes my heart so happy to see her snuggled by her adoring siblings.

She has us all smitten - and we all would stand and move the world for her just to see her smile.