Pleading Not Guilty

When I became a mother more than four years ago, someone advised me to "never feel guilty." I wasn't sure then, and I'm still not quite sure, how to do that, or if that's even healthy, but there is definitely some wisdom in not getting hung up on every little mistake.

Since my parenting load doubled two months ago, there have been even more reasons to feel guilty, and some of them do nag at me quite a bit.

A few of them are hopefully easily forgivable; such as failing to send 'Thank You' notes to 100% of the folks who've spoiled our family in some way, or posting too many photos and blog entries about our new little guy.

Others should spur me on to improvement; like the pangs of guilt I feel for not giving enough attention to our dog Ruby recently, or being gentler and more patient with Baby Zy than with Angie.

And still others I should surely just turn from guilt into gratitude. When people tell us we have such a good baby, or say "Praise God he's so healthy," I feel strangely bad for being one of the "fortunate" ones. Jon and I have more means and experience to handle a more difficult or disabled child than many parents who weren't "prepared," but God's ways our higher than our ways, so I need to trust Him and thank Him for the joyful baby He's given us.

On the other hand, there are also a number of things I don't let bother me.

For instance, I don't feel awful about the ~10 stubborn pounds of baby weight I can't seem to shed, well at least not awful enough to give up sweets. However, when the baby smiles and giggles more at the sight of me after my shower than any other time, it is a bit unnerving to my post-partum insecurities. I like to tell myself he's laughing at my towel turban not my belly jiggling.

It's not eating me up that the floors are going unvacuumed longer, or that our dinner menu is lacking much creativity or variety these days. My priorities have shifted for the time being, maybe forever, and that's not the end of the world.

We had hoped to wait till Angie was in high school to get her a cell phone, but with the arrival of the baby and the hopes for her to babysit him some in the future, we needed to be able to communicate with her, so we broke down and got her an iPhone. Actually, she saved up for the phone and case, but we're covering the monthly plan. I don't love how much she loves to stare at the bright shiny screen, but she's been so good with the baby and so tolerant of our new routines, that she deserves something special too.

At the same time, I refuse to feel guilty about often being the "mean mom." The one who won't let her child have every new fangled device as soon as it hits the market, or unlimited screen-time. Maybe I won't let Angie have sleepovers with random friends from school. Maybe I hope for, if not expect, obedience on the first instead of the fourth time I ask for something. And likely I'm stricter than the fun moms who I sometimes envy. But I'm not gonna feel guilty for parenting counter-culturally, and working hard to be consistent and wise, even if I'm not gonna win any popularity contests.

I don't feel guilty that Isaiah is not "Babywise." I like a schedule as much as the next semi-Type A personality, but if my little man's gonna have the biggest head this side of Texas he's gonna need to eat more than every three hours, and that's okay. I know I'm not helping the situation with my snuggle sessions in our bed in the morning after Angie and Jon are off to school and work. But I don't feel guilty about those priceless moments. Nor that he still sleeps in our bedroom, that one of us picks him up every time he fusses much at all, or that I do most of my work these days with a munchkin in my lap like this:

Because I refuse to wait till this precious time is over to appreciate it. After all, regret is probably even worse than guilt...

Sometimes, during worship at church, I find myself staring into Isaiah's handsome eyes as I sing. At first, I had a twinge of guilt about singing praise songs "to" my baby, as if to an idol. But I really can't think of a better creation to focus on when giving thanks and adoration to the Creator.

And now for your weekly dose of that adorable creation.

I do feel a little bad about neglecting my main squeeze for cuddle time with his Mini-Me...

Somebody give that kid a fist pump!

"Fools make fun of guilt, but the godly acknowledge it and seek reconciliation." 

- Proverbs 14:9

2 Months Old and No Signs of Slowing

Isaiah, otherwise known as Grunty McGrunterson, turns two today! Two months that is, but he's about the size of some two year-olds. He's a bit confused in many areas of growth actually. He has the appetite, acne, and sweat glands of a teenage boy, with the balding pattern of an old man. And he's pretty happy about it!

At one month old, Zy was in the 64th% for weight and 97th% for height. Today, at his two month check-up he's skyrocketed by 23% in weight, which should be no surprise to any of us, the way he eats. He now weighs a whopping 13lb 12oz and fits into the 87th% for weight and 98th% for height at 24.5 inches!  No wonder that car seat is getting harder to lug around!

Telling his little friend some secrets

He's still not much for a pacifier or his thumb, but he's been known to try to stick his whole fist in his mouth. He only sleeps for a couple hours at a time even at night, and then realizes he must eat again immediately or he may not make it into the 100th percentile in weight by his first birthday. He's very goal-oriented, I don't know where he gets that!

Belting out some tunes with Lion.

As one of the sad reminders that he isn't staying tiny forever, his height and cloth diapers are already pushing him beyond the limits of some of his 0-3 month wardrobe and I'm putting his adorable newborn clothes in storage. 6-month outfits are starting to fit nicely though.

Getting into some mischief with his buddy.

His best friend is not Ruby just yet, since she can't seem to stop licking his face and he's not so thrilled about the effect that's having on his acne, but instead he most enjoys staring at ceiling fans. His favorite being the one in our bedroom, who we've named Carlita. We think he has a crush on her the way he flirts. It's great as a distraction during diaper changes, or while I'm trying to get some work done, but it worries me a bit about his intelligence. With all the legitimately fascinating things in this world, should he really be most mesmerized by a fan??

A tad unsure that Ruby's not gonna smush him.

Today, at his two-month pediatrician visit he got three vaccines for lots of diseases, as you can tell by his marine camo bandaids. I've never seen his face turn so red, it was horrible. I'm not generally tenderhearted in the least, but this guy is getting to me. When we start a little sleep training tonight and I let him grunt/fuss himself to sleep it will be agony. I had no idea what was so hard for you other moms letting your littles cry themselves to sleep. I never judged you, I was actually impressed with how compassionate you were, now I'm beginning to understand.

If you thought photographing an infant was hard, try taking pictures of a newborn and a dog!

After all, the top of his head smells like Heaven, so I am completely and hopelessly addicted to him. His personality continues to get more fun all the time, which is great since I won't be able to huff him forever...

The Path of Most Resistance

When Angie and I were out running errands the other day, slugging hefty Zy and his clunky car seat in and out of the truck at every stop, Angie noted, "Shopping sure is harder with Zy." I agreed, "Everything's harder with Zy, but everything's better." 

I mean, come on, I'd drag a ton of bricks in and out of Target, Kroger, Michael's, Kohls, and Aldi to see this smile.

It sure does make one-stop shopping at Wal-Mart more appealing though.

Her comment reminded me of a point that I've been ruminating on recently:

The path of most resistance is almost always the best path.

Has anyone else noticed this? Doing the best thing, especially in parenting, seems to always come at a cost.

When Angie has homework it would be easy enough to have her just write something down, fill in the blanks, write the paper, or do the project. It wouldn't be much harder to tell her what the right answer is or what to say in the story. But the hardest option is to sit down with her and patiently guide her through the work, helping her to come to her own solutions, but making sure they're not too far off track. This last approach requires not only the most time investment from me, but also often the most friction between us, as she desperately wants me to just tell her the answers, and the longer we struggle through difficult homework the more likelihood there is that her tone will turn disrespectful and sassy.

It's not much different at dinner. It would be easiest to let her choose the menu each night, or at least elect which foods on her plate to eat. But it's best to take the hard road and insist that she try something new, eat a few bites of broccoli, finish her carrots, and USE HER NAPKIN for crying out loud.

It would be so much more relaxed in this house if we never made Angie clean up her bedroom or straighten up her bathroom. The evenings, weekends, and summers would be so peaceful if she could watch videos all day and I never asked her to read a book, learn something, or get some exercise.

Oh, she would be so happy if I never made her go to another sports practice again. She'll show up for all the games or matches no problem, as long as she doesn't have to put in any extra effort up front to prepare.

Why can't we just let her wear what she wants? The scandalously short shorts, the crop tops, the skin tight leggings, and tube tops. Why do we insist on such a counter-cultural dress code? It would feel so nice to not be the mean mom for once.

And bedtime, why enforce bedtime? We should let her stay up as late as she wants, putting on gobs of makeup, eating pie and ice cream whenever she wants, watching R rated movies, sleeping over at friends' houses who's parents we've never met. Why not, that's what all the other kids her age are doing, she says...

In the moment, when the inevitable eye roll, groan, or all out argument is lurking just around the corner, it's so hard to picture the adult we will create if we choose the path of least resistance. But every time we take the uphill road, the one often less traveled by the world, we're being intentional about raising a decent human being, hopefully even a kind adult, instead of the irresponsible, inconsiderate, jaded, selfish, stubborn lazy mess we'd be allowing if we were passive instead of proactive in all these parenting choices. 

Even with Zy it's already evident that taking the easy road does not pay off in the end. According to the experts if we're not intentional he'll take his rocking chair, pacifier, car seat and blankie to college if we don't start him off right without all the props. The longer we enjoy the ease and sweetness of co-sleeping, the less likely he is to ever embrace his crib or even his nursery. And the more often I let him snack to keep him from fussing, the less time between meals I have to get anything done, and the longer we stay on his schedule instead of adjusting him to the family's routine.

Moms and dads, stay strong. They won't want us to go with them to college, we can't hold their hand at their first job, so we have to start creating independent healthy little people from day one even though they can't see the big picture now and they'll resist almost every step of the way. It's so hard to believe they might actually thank us later for all these rules, but it is so rewarding  when they do, I know because it's happened to me once, just wait it'll happen for you too...

Now for the fun part, this little guy doesn't roll his eyes when I take his picture yet, so I have to take advantage of that and capture all the silly moments I can.

Bubbles!!! 

What Zy would look like with long black locks.

This no clothes thing is pretty awesome, Mom!

I tried desperately last week, to upload some videos to the blog of the munchkin in all his cuteness for those family who haven't met him, or haven't seen him in awhile.  Videos of him cooing, grunting, snoring so loud he wakes himself up, even bobbing his head in time with music. But I tried a thousand ways to get them from my iPhone to the blog with no success, and I also realized these videos would surely bore anyone outside of immediate family, so I gave up. Sorry, you'll just have to envision how cute these pictures would be in motion, and for the snoring just imagine an old man, receding hairline and all, sawing logs even in church. 

The Good Part

At my 10-year vet school reunion last weekend, a close friend, and mother of two little ones herself, asked me what was the hardest part for me about mothering a newborn. I looked at Jon to see if he knew, I hemmed and hawed, and I tried earnestly to come up with something profound, because I know that infant-rearing is supposed to be extremely difficult, and I never want to be that mom who makes everything sound peachy and rose-colored when I'm really a mess. But I struggled to find an answer.

After all, what could be anything other than warm and fuzzy about this sweetpea: 

I mean this is all he does, right?

Well, no. He doesn't do much of that at all really.

Isaiah the Insatiable spends most of his time eating. Sometimes he falls asleep mid-meal, but if I try to put him down he frantically searches for food as if his life depends on no less than 20 hours of milk intake per day.

So this week, I've figured out what the hardest part about mothering Baby Zy has been: facing my task-orientedness. I knew God would use this precious munchkin to teach me loads of stuff, and this is just one of His first lessons. 

As pregnancy was drawing to a close, I was becoming more and more useless. I was progressively more tired and huge and much less mobile. So, Jon stepped up and started caring more for Angie and pampering me. After the baby was born, I was obviously at my most helpless. Restricted from driving and climbing the stairs I was confined almost completely to the bedroom, unable to pitch in around the house at all, but at peace with these temporary constraints with a two-week timeframe in mind.

Now, six weeks post-partum, and feeling entirely capable of getting back to normal chores, errands, and usefulness, I'm chomping at the bit to accomplish, well, anything.

Every time Jon says, "Let me get that for you, Babe," or "Let me do that, Baby," with the purest and most selfless of intentions, I feel a tiny bit like a failure as a wife, a mother, and an independent human being. He's right, it's better if he goes to the grocery store, because the baby needs to nurse. It makes more sense if he cleans up after the dinner he's prepared because the baby's hungry again. He should be the one to grab the laundry from the dryer, fill up the car with gas, help Angie with her homework, unload the dishwasher, etc. etc. etc. while I accept my new role as the child's food source, pacifier, and cradle.

It feels so good to get things done though. I don't relish the label task-oriented, but I can't deny the gratification of finishing a job, whether as small as the dishwasher or as large as the laundry (who am I kidding, the laundry's never finished with a newborn, especially in cloth diapers.) So, when Zy's secure and snoozing in his car seat, one of the few places other than my arms where this happens, I nearly run around the house trying to straighten up and feel like a useful member of society. 

Wanting to be helpful again, led me to offer my aunt and uncle a ride to the airport at 4:30am yesterday. They were hesitant to accept, but I convinced them we'd be up anyways, why not make the most of it. In the end, I came to my senses, my overactive need to do more than just feed the baby started becoming clear to me, and I let them drive themselves. Choosing instead to spend another early morning snuggling my voracious eater and praying for him, his future wife, and for her mom who just might have been up taking care of her sweet hungry baby at the very same moment.  

Because as good as achieving things, checking stuff off lists, and keeping the house and family straightened up feels, I know those aren't the most important...

 Now as they were traveling along, He entered a village; and a woman named Martha welcomed Him into her home.  She had a sister called Mary, who was seated at the Lord’s feet, listening to His word.  But Martha was distracted with all her preparations; and she came up to Him and said, “Lord, do You not care that my sister has left me to do all the serving alone? Then tell her to help me.” 

But the Lord answered and said to her,“Martha, Martha, you are worried and bothered about so many things;  but only one thing is necessary, for Mary has chosen the good part, which shall not be taken away from her.”

-Luke 10-38:42 NASB

In the same way, bonding with this little man and giving him my full attention, is the good part, the part that I must not rob myself of in search of deceivingly greater purpose. 

This weekend, I pray instead of being consumed with Easter egg hunts, fancy clothes, family meals, or church attendance, that we can all sit at Jesus' feet and reflect on how the Lion of Judah became a helpless lamb for us. How He was pierced for our transgressions, and now because He is Risen we can have life abundantly... 

One Month in the Books

"If you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
    and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
    and your night will become like the noonday."

-Isaiah 58:10

I don't think Zy is "oppressed" in any sense of the word, but the rest of the verse, that this blog is named for, is taking on a whole new meaning to me recently. Isaiah, the Old Testament prophet, clearly meant "spend yourself in behalf of the hungry" in a metaphorical sense, as well as the light rising in the darkness. However, as I strive to keep up satisfying the needs of possibly the world's hungriest infant, I'm literally spending myself. And my nights and noondays are pretty much interchangeable now as I feed, change, cuddle, and gaze at this precious little guy at both 2pm and 2am the same.

Here are some updates and more photos for anyone curious about Zy's development.

Last night, he had his best sleeping night ever! He took two 3 hour naps with just an hour and a half of awake time in between. It was the first time we'd been able to get him to sleep "all night" outside of our bed. Tight swaddling, timing, cloth diaper, and the Rock'N'Play for the WIN! I sure hope it wasn't a fluke, or a little birthday gift of sleep for his mama.

He's pretty proud of himself for sleeping so well!

 Today, he went for his 1 month check-up.  He started out at 8 pounds 13.1 ounces and 22 inches long. He dropped down to a little less than 8 pounds in the first few days. Now, he weighs in at 10 pounds 9 ounces, 64th% and measures 23 inches long, 97.5th%. He's long and lean, he comes by that honest!

An outtake from his one-month photo shoot with Ruby. He's not so sure how he feels about doggy kisses yet.

He has long fingers like his daddy.

Our favorite place: right next to each other.

We're hoping to see a lot more smiles and giggles like this by Easter!

10 Things I Couldn't Fathom Just Two Weeks Ago

I'm sure Isaiah is learning a lot these days, at least he really seems to be soaking in those Baby Einstein books I'm reading him. But I'm the one who's come to grasp all sorts of things in a whole new way. Here are just a few of the things that confused me to no end until about 2 weeks ago, when everything got flipped upside down as this new tiny life intersected with mine.

1. Labor and Delivery. Oh my! Apparently you can hear approximately 7,457 stories of other people's birthing trials and tribulations, read the books, and "prepare" as best you can, but there's no way to predict what the most intense experience of your life is going to really be like. And with every expectation, you're just setting yourself up for potential disappointment. For other first time moms-to-be, I'd say, be ready for the worst, then maybe you'll be pleasantly surprised. Or be smart and get an epidural. By all means, don't believe the hypno-birthing folks who say it's not pain it's just pressure. Unless you're just a whole lot better at hypnotizing yourself than I am.

2. Recovery. I just want to apologize for any insensitive remarks or expectations I had for post-partum moms in the past. I had no idea. Seriously, I've been a mom for more than 4 years, so I know a couple things about parenting. But adoption does not come with stitches, a peri-bottle, frozen padsicles, pain relief sprays, restrictions on driving and walking the stairs, drastic physical deflation, or hormone fluctuations. I kinda thought you were just up and around the next day. I think in the book "The Good Earth" she just had a baby and went back to working in the rice fields. I've got to stop basing my reality on books.

3. That there could be anything more cuddly than a puppy. I mean really, that still seems crazy to say out loud, but I think I'd take a snuggle with my little man, over any furry four legged friend these days.

4. Why people are always kissing, and wanting to "eat," baby cheeks. That was just kinda weird and extreme, until I myself fell into the trap and started kissing these oh-so-soft little cheeks every chance I get.

5. How these two sentiments could be simultaneously felt by the same people: 
"I haven't slept in weeks. I can barely remember my own name. Shower, what's a shower? I do nothing but feed and clean up after this little one." 

and 

"Time slow down, don't let him change, he just can't grow up!"

If you want them to sleep through the night, why wouldn't you want them to grow up? Our nights are not too bad and if I am sleep deprived it's mostly because I stay up all night staring at him, but I totally understand the second sentiment now. I'm completely unprepared for him to grow or change in the slightest, he must remain exactly this tiny and perfect forever...

6. Bed sharing. Why in the world would anyone want to bring a little munchkin into their marriage bed, to wedge someone else in between you and your best friend, to pee and poop all over the place uncontrollably. I never thought I would be tempted in the slightest to bed share or even co-sleep, but well, I am, we do... We're working on it, it's not a long-term situation, but it's easier, and cozy, and oh so sweet. Just one more reason I should never judge anyone until I've walked in their shoes. Someday I'll learn this lesson, maybe.

7. Why anyone would want to wake a sleeping baby just to look at him. It seems like people go to such great lengths to get these children to sleep, then they just want to waste all that hard work a few minutes later. We haven't struggled yet to get ours to sleep, as newborns are sleepyheads. And I haven't wanted to wake him up prematurely yet, as his faces are nearly as cute when he's sleeping as waking, but I can understand this a little better now, since I have to stop kissing his cheeks while he sleeps.

8. How I would just melt every time I saw him. Missing him when others hold him. Giggling like a school girl randomly when staring into his delicious face, and asking Jon if we can keep him multiple times a day.

9. Receiving so much would make me feel so helpless. I fully believe it's more blessed to give than to receive, hence God's been teaching me a lot these past few days and even months about graciously receiving from others. From baby showers to meal delivery, we've been spoiled rotten by many of you who have loved our baby right along with us. And now, friends and family bring incredible care and recovery packages, celebrate Zy's birthday with cinnamon rolls, clean our house, do our laundry, shop for us and lavish us with goodness. Angie has been the great big sister she hoped to be, helping with diaper changes, playtime, bathing, and all variety of other household chores to pitch in. And Jon... Jon has gone non-stop since Isaiah was born, cooking, cleaning, bringing me everything, meeting my every need as I'm mostly restricted to our upstairs bedroom to feed the hungry guy and recover for another few days. I look forward to being a little less dependent soon, but for now, I hope others are blessed to be such blessings to us.

10. Just a smidgeon of the love God felt when He said this about his precious son, Jesus, "This is my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased."

First bath after his umbilical cord fell off.

Here's a little photo shoot from today, for those of you who have so generously asked for more photos. 

His shirt says "Mr. Irresistible." Pretty much sums it up.

"Wait, be sure to get my good side!"

Give us your best monster snarl.

Now do "Shock and Horror."

Isaiah the Little Lamb

Long before we knew Isaiah's name, I was smitten with the idea of a lion and lamb theme for his, or her, nursery. Lions are my favorite animal and the combination of lions and lambs is sewn throughout scripture in reference to Jesus. Jon doesn't think the lions we've accumulated in his room are very realistic in their ferocity, but that's alright 'cause Isaiah favors the lamb more in personality anyway.

In beautiful harmony with his name, lambs are used throughout the book of Isaiah as imagery of gentleness.

"And the wolf will dwell with the lamb, And the leopard will lie down with the young goat, And the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; And a little boy will lead them," -Isaiah 11:6

"Like a shepherd He will tend His flock, In His arm He will gather the lambs And carry them in His bosom; He will gently lead the nursing ewes." -Isaiah 40:11

"He was oppressed and He was afflicted, Yet He did not open His mouth; Like a lamb that is led to slaughter, And like a sheep that is silent before its shearers, So He did not open His mouth." -Isaiah 53:7

"The wolf and the lamb will graze together, and the lion will eat straw like the ox; and dust will be the serpent’s food. They will do no evil or harm in all My holy mountain,” says the Lord." -Isaiah 65:25

"Though your sins are as scarlet, They will be as white as snow; Though they are red like crimson, They will be like wool." -Isaiah 1:18

"Gentle" was the One Word I felt God gave me for 2015, and I think he's confirming that now by giving us a such a sweet-tempered little baby to teach me new lessons about gentleness every day.

Isaiah's first bath.

Working on self-soothing after bath time, sucking on whatever's closest, in this case Daddy's nose.

During a diaper change, I was trying to help by holding his legs out of the way, when I looked down I found him sucking on his conveniently placed toe. (Note the lamb mittens)

Trying out his lamb swing, not quite convinced it's as comfortable as Mommy and Daddy's bed though.

His newest lamb addition, thanks to a our neighbors who stopped by to visit.

Today, in celebration of one week of life, we introduced his lamby paci.

The art in his room above his crib. So peaceful how could anyone refuse a nap?

It just so happens that Isaiah was born 2 days into the Year of the Sheep according to the Chinese New Year. It turns out some parents don't want a baby to be born in this year that is symbolic of considerate, hardworking, persistent, gentle, yet indecisive, weak-willed personalities. I'm alright with it though, as we've done strong-willed long enough with Angie, I'm happy to try weak-willed this time, we'll just call him compliant. :)