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Dreams, not the night kind

We sat across from each other at a little round oak table finishing up our supper. We hadn’t been dating long and were still in the beginning stages of exploring one another, learning all there is to know. Things like favorite colors, how many dogs we’ve had, places we’ve visited. We were new to each other so talking and kissing is what we did. A lot.

And then he asked, “What are your dreams?”

The answer didn’t come to me quickly. It wasn’t simple like yellow, three, or Boston. I paused, I stammered, but I couldn’t come up with a dream.

“I guess I’m doing it.” I replied. “I’ve done everything I’ve wanted. I’m content where I’m at right now.”

Maybe it was the way he looked at me. Maybe it was me, but a feeling of failure overcame me. Is this it? Is this all I want? Is that the best answer I’ve got?

Then nonchalantly, I let it out. I said it. I released my dream. The dream I’ve been afraid to tell anyone. The dream I didn’t even want to admit to myself. I told it for the universe and everyone to hear.

“Well. I’d like to be a writer.” I felt my insides crumble. My anxiety rose. Will he laugh? Will I fail? Will the universe shake its head in disgust?

The years have come and gone. I’ve written. I’ve submitted. I’ve been rejected. But I will persevere.

I just finished a book by Amy Greene entitled Bloodroot. She’s a debut novelist who wrote an awesome story. I love debut novelists. You know they’ve tried hard, as hard as they could. I rejoice when a first timer’s book makes a best seller. What an accomplishment. I imagine myself. I study the books and envision my name instead on the front cover. Sometimes I even believe it can happen. I get so wrapped up in these debut authors so much that I read their interviews and their stories. I study their writing process. I learn of their backgrounds and search for connecting threads to convince me that if they can do it, so can I.

Then I hear how they met so and so who introduced them to such and such who lined them up with this agent who loved their stuff who submitted it to the top publishing company in the U.S. who made a book that went best seller. And the demon of doubt knocks on my door, and foolishly I invite him in. We sit on the couch, I offer him a drink. Then he tells me, ‘here you sit in the panhandle of Texas with nothing but tumbleweeds and windmills, listening to the wind blow the prairie grasses, existing where agents, authors, and publishing houses might as well be a foreign country. You don’t have a chance’. I agree with him. I know he’s right. It’s a stupid dream.

But sometimes, like today, I politely show him the door.

And I’ll persevere.

Red River

My niece Ashy has a word she uses a lot.

It’s “Amazing”.

“This dessert is amazing, this smells amazing, my aunt Angel is amazing”. Well, actually, I made that last one up. She’s never really said that, but it doesn’t mean she shouldn’t.

It’s a bit ironic. Her middle name is Grace and she was born under distressing circumstances, yet pulled through and has been our little miracle ever since. My dad quickly nicknamed her “Amazing Gracie”.

So here we are in Red River, New Mexico, and according to Ashlynn everything is simply “Amazing”. The mountains are amazing, the smells are amazing, the air is amazing. And she’s right.

We’re vacationing with some of our good, best friends,the Hoganson’s (Matt, Jaxson, Revelle, and Gage) and enjoying it abundantly.

We’ve spent our day fishing and catching moss.

Then we rented jeeps to head “off road” and upward.

Of course like everything else at the beginning, the excitement and anticipation is high. Everyone is all smiles.

But after two wrong turns, four hours, and three stops to pee in the woods we were ready to get back on level ground, or at least some smooth pavement.

It was a bumpy, rough ride I tell you.

At the end of it, our teeth were rattled, our bones were jarred and Matt is worried that Emma might be retarded now.

But boy, was it pretty.

Here’s proof:

I love this Aspen forest. Isn’t it enchanting? I imagine myself in a long flowing white dress sitting in its midst with butterflies and fairies dancing around my head and unicorns eating sparkly food from my hand. I’m weirder than weird. I already know.

But my most favorite picture is this one.

Isn’t it amazing?

Howdy, friends.

Oh, hey there!

It’s me. Don’t you recognize me?

It’s been a while, hasn’t it?

I know, I know, I’ve been much too quiet lately.

Oh? You don’t agree? Has it been a nice break for you?

Well, not for me! I’ve missed you all so.

Life is happening with this old gal, I tell ya. First of all, my computer has been in the shop due to, uh, what is it called, oh yeah, accidental damage from handling. Translation: a cracked screen. One day my camera rolled off the ottoman and landed on top of my closed laptop. I gasped! I quickly picked up my camera, inspected it once, maybe twice, found no damage, and silently told myself that was a close call. Only to find the next day a nice shattered screen and a spider web of cracks on my laptop screen. Fortunately my husband had the good foresight when he purchased the laptop for me in January to buy insurance. I thought it would be a snappy ordeal, but was again dismayed to discover they had to ship off my laptop and it would take 2 weeks. TWO WEEKS! What can a girl do, but wait it out.

In the meantime I’ve been using my phone to stay connected, but blogging on my phone is just no fun, so I’ve just been waiting it out.

But now, we’re together again. How sweet it is.

So since it’s been a while, I’d love to catch you up on what’s been going on with me, but alas, that would take all of 2 seconds. Not much is going on here except I have a precious six month old. I’m not sure if I’ve told you that before or not. Would you like to see a picture?

I know you’ve seen her, but really she’s worth looking at again isn’t she?

You’re smiling aren’t you? I knew it.

And do you love that little get up she’s got on? Well, it’s your lucky day because I have quite a few of them. Actually, I’ve started a little online business and named it after my sweet little inspiration Emma Kate. You can find a sampling of our goodies on Facebook. It’s right here at this address:

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Emma-Kates/408211979239943

Go ahead and hop on over there and like the page, I’d sure appreciate it.

Not too long ago I was reading some of my old blogs from way back and it just made me homesick for the way things used to be. You remember, blogging almost everyday? Attempting to post a blog everyday. I truly love it. It gets under my skin. I need to write like dogs need shade on an August day. It helps me with the ordinary day to day dealings. I’m going to try to do better.

Also, I’m on a diet, but what else is new.

That’s about it for me.

What about you?

How’s life going?

6 months

Precious, darling Emma Kate,

Look at you grow, girl! Mama doesn’t even know where to begin telling you about your very busy month. I have so much to say, so I guess instead of starting at the beginning, I’ll just start at the top.

Your hair. It has lightened up some, still brown, and is thick on top and grows in a point like Dracula (just like my dream)but not a scary, blood thirsty Dracula, but rather a beautiful, bright-eyed smooch able baby girl Dracula.

Your teeth. Yep, they’re there. Two shiny white pearls on bottom. Finally. You’ve been a dream teether, you haven’t fussed one bit, but we could feel these little suckers when you were four months old and have been waiting patiently.

With those new toofies you’ve tried some real food.

In your most humble opinion:

Rice cereal= bleck!

Peas= double bleck!

Strawberries= sour bleck! (unlike my dream)

The foods that have received an Emma stamp of approval are peaches, pears, avocado, and squash. We’re trying to keep you away from sugar and junk food, but we did offer you a taste of frozen yogurt, but the cold surprised you so, I’m not sure which list it belongs on.

Your mouth. It’s so sweet, and you have the best smiles to give. You are not much of a laugher, but full of grins. You can make ma-ma, da-da, bye-bye sounds! And holy cow you are loud! We tease you that you got that from your grandy.

Your butt. You are sitting alone for really long periods of time, when just a couple weeks ago you were a weeble wobble on a round butt. Now you’re an old pro.

Your Legs. They are fat! But those thunder thighs aren’t slowing you down. You are moving and scooting! You use your elbows and one leg to pull and drag yourself around. But that left leg is like a dead man’s, just dragging around behind you.While I’ve been typing, you have gone to the kitchen, gotten into the potatoes and onions, drug yourself around to the fridge, then back to the potatoes. Lazy is NOT your middle name. You are simply amazing and are taking the world by storm.

Cankles? Yep, you got them.

Your toes. Oh my goodness, I love to get those piggies because they taste so sweet.

That’s you from top to toes, baby girl. You are our delight. It has been so much fun loving you the last six months. Gosh, you’ll never know how adored you are. I mean that. Completely, Totally, Altogether, Absolutely ADORED and LOVED from top to bottom.

You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, my dear one. I love you!!

XOXO,

Mama

She Battles

Each day, right after her cup of coffee, she laces up her tennie runners as her dad used to call them, straps the baby in the stroller and begins her walk down a lonely dirt, country road. Slow at first, building steam, gearing up. Just barely after she starts, her mind tells her to quit. Gives her the talk. Lists the excuses. But she has no excuses. Time is no excuse. Ability is no excuse. Rain or snow is no excuse. So she perseveres. Each day she goes a little farther. Pushes herself a little harder. Forces herself to make it just past the cotton field with the new plants pushing through, then a little farther to the windmill. Finally to the red barn where she can turn around.

Most days she prays. She prays for her loved ones, she thanks God for her family, her health, her many blessings. She thinks, she sings, she talks to her baby who bounces along with her Clifford pacifier in her mouth, the breeze blowing her little crop of hair.

She’s in the midst of a battle. An all out war against the baby weight. A daily struggle. She remembers her former self. The younger her, before marriage and pregnancy transformed her into a jiggly blob. She curses her body. Its slowness, its sluggish metabolism, its saggy skin and weakness. But with the next thought, she recognizes its magnificence. Its ability to create life, to bring it forth, to nourish and sustain it.

She makes herself run now. From telephone pole to telephone pole she runs. The next telephone pole cheers her on. Encourages her, reminds her that the next one is not too far off. Until her mind once again tells her to quit, catch her breath.

She walks now. Pushing her sleeping baby. Gasping for air. She passes the stench of death. Something lying in the bar ditch beneath the tall weeds. She turns her head as the smell of rot burns into her nose. She imagines it a mouse, a bird, a skunk. Surely the worst is over. “Decay faster you S.O.B.,” she mutters aloud.

Her body glistens with perspiration. Her face is the color of beets. Her shoulders tanned in the sun, the right one a shade darker than the left. She turns into her drive, slowing to a snail’s pace. At the front door, she lifts her dozing baby from the stroller and places her heavy head against her sweaty neck. The air conditioning is a wonderful respite from the early morning heat. Her eyes adjust to the darkness of the nursery as she places her in the crib to dream the sweet dreams of babies.

Her next battle is laundry.

Outside

Our baby girl loves it outside.

No matter the mercury reading, she hasn’t learned to complain about the heat yet.

We haven’t cut her hair to look like a mohawk on it’s way to growing out, it’s just the way her hair, well is growing out. Possibly one of the reasons she’s mistaken for a boy frequently.

The chickens are as curious about her as she is of them. But everyone’s on their best behavior so far. No pecking or feather pulling have occurred.

I just love everything about her. The birth mark on her forehead that reminds me of Australia, those lovely long eyelashes framing her deep brown eyes, the way she smells like “outside” after only a few minutes. But heck, so do I. Even the little skinned place beside her nose where her fingernails got her.

Oh, and I mustn’t forget her two brand spanking new pearly whites.

Peace, pecks, and pigs—Randomness

It’s a peaceful kind of morning. No hustle, no bustle.

There’s a cool breeze, and it’s a nice respite before the West Texas July sun follows it’s usual path in the cloudless sky and the daytime temps rise to scorch and wither. But after all, it is summer. What else do we expect.

EK and I sat outside for a spell. Me with my coffee, she with her glee.

Watching the world through the eyes of a baby brings on a new light. I read that every day to a baby is like a visit to Paris for the first time for us. The new smells, the new sights. We would be on high alert, taking it all in.

Her yard is a far cry from Paris, I would have to imagine since I’ve never visited there. But oh, how she takes it all in. She notices the smallest things. A leaf blowing across the yard, a black bird flying to rest in a tree top, the bark of Drew and Grace from the backyard saying, “We want out, let us out, we want to see you this morning too”, the choo choo whistle as it rolls down the tracks.

A chicken flew up on the arm of our chair with her beady eye and pointy beak. Me, I’m a bit intimidated. I don’t know why I suddenly became afraid of my chickens, as if they could peck me to death or something. I usually shoo them away afraid they might peck EK, but today we just sat. The chicken jerked her chicken neck around studying us, and EK stared back. I put EK’s hand on her feathers to let her feel.

The other day my mom mentioned how the baby needs one of those toys, you know the kind we used to have as a kid. Where you pull the string and the animal makes it’s sound. I said, “Mom. Look around. Why does she need that? We have horses that say neigh, dogs that say ruff, chickens that say bawk, cows that say moo, right here.”

That seemed to satisfy my mom, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she pulls up with a pig in the passenger seat one day.

Fantopia

fantopia—a combination of fantasy and utopia. I just made that word up. I think. Until I google it, and learn that it’s already been made up. So I won’t burst my bubble.

I live in a fantopia. A fantasy utopian world in my own head.

In this world, I imagine myself fit and fabulous. My garden bursts with abundant color. My home shines with freshly polished floors. The internet connection zips and zooms. Laughter fills the house. Babies don’t poop up their backs. Everything is simple and easy.

Maybe it’s not your fantopia, but it’s mine. I live it.

Case in point. Have you seen a pettiromper? Unless your a new mom to a lovely little girl, maybe you haven’t.

Here’s a picture I stole off the internet.

redpettiromper — beautiful baby picture stolen from http://www.happybirthdaybabyboutique.com

Cute, adorable, and about $35.

Step into my fantopia, where I say to myself, “I can make this. I can sew. I’ve sewed curtains. And buttons. How hard can it be?”

Well for starters, it can be very hard. First off, I can’t find this lacy material anywhere, (but I only looked one place), so I settled for the next best thing.

A ruffled material that I see old ladies (my mother for one) wearing on their shirts these days.

So I buy it. And I buy some matching thread. Now I’m in business. I can whip this out in no time. I googled a little tutorial about how to make a romper, and feeling like the overachieving mom of the year, I commit to the task, right after I dust off the sewing machine, make J-Dub mess with it since the pedal won’t work, figure out how to thread the darn thing, and attempt at making a bobbin that ended up being a tangled mess so I just used a different colored one that was already ready to use.

It turns out, the ruffly material is hard to feed through the (Pardon my lack of technical terms here) foot feeder. It also turns out that the ruffly material doesn’t look so good when you sew the ruffles up when the ruffles are supposed to lay downward. But I persevered, just me and my seam ripper.

It began coming together. I was so excited. I had to hold myself back from waking my baby girl from her nap to try it on her when it was finally finished two days later. I even whipped up a headband.

I put it on her and let’s just say, I need a wee bit more practice. The elastic wasn’t short enough (tight enough) and it wouldn’t stay up above her tee tas.

So out came the handy safety pin because I just had to get a picture to show my loyal blog readers.
Which created the four hundredth problem of the project since my baby can’t exactly sit up by herself yet.

So here we are trying to take a picture, me needing to be farther back to get a better focus and shot, but at the same time needing to be in arm’s length to catch her when she topples.

A look of sheer panic knowing she is losing her balance and is about to fall.

Me grabbing EK’s hand right before she topples.

So after 3 bumps, a poke from the safety pin, and a dislocated shoulder on my part finally, I just propped her on my dirty, dingy, denim couch and snapped a picture. Just kidding on all that. We came out unscathed.

Was it a total flop? No I just need to adjust the elastic and try to find the right material.

Will I try again? Maybe.

Is my baby an absolute doll regardless of the get-up I dress her in? Completely.

Did I rock the headband? I think so.

Did I just spend 30 minutes looking for my camera cord to download these pictures? Maybe 45 minutes.

Do I fail at life? Naw, just at fantopia.

Mountains

I’m sitting at the base of a mountain, more or less, breathing in a piney smell, listening to birds, an occasional hummingbird’s soft sound and then the loud obnoxious caw of the crow. The sky is dark with rain clouds, the thunder is booming in the distance. It’s a cool 70* which just so happens to also be the high temperature of the day. My senses are Alive. Aware. Awake.

Glorious. That’s a word that can be used, and is used by the locals around here. The rain comes daily this season, beautiful, refreshing, life-giving rains. It waters the tall pines, rushes over rocks in little streams, wets the pine needles cluttering the ground, cools the air until little goose bumps rise from my skin. “Isn’t it glorious?” the people say to no one in particular. They speak to the pines, the deer, the birds.

Yes, we all agree silently.

Glorious.

5 months

My sweet and precious Emma Kate,

Today you are 5 months old. I’ve known this day was coming, but it just doesn’t seem possible.

I look at you and I can’t believe it. That sweet tiny baby has morphed into a bundle of fun, with a big grin and a bit of a mischievous nature I believe. Your daddy keeps saying you’re turning into a little person. A little person full of personality and curiosity.

We enjoy every minute of you. Even the 3 a.m. ones. Even the “somebody better do something to fix my problem” crying ones. Even the “I think I’ll go to the bathroom since you already have my diaper off” ones.

Your good moments completely outweigh the tougher times. You play with your toys for a really long time. Sometimes you get frustrated when you can’t reach your favorite toy, but you don’t give up easily. You have a determined spirit about you, which I think is a good quality. Later, we’ll likely call it stubbornness, which you’ll come by honestly since both your daddy and I possess it as well.

I quit my job so I can be a stay at home mom with you. I don’t think we’ve been separated since the end of May. We spend our days playing, singing, reading, eating, sleeping, and having some outside time which is your favorite. Some days we go to town to visit or run errands, but not too much, because mama is a homebody.

You love feet, and it doesn’t really matter whose they are. You learned how to get your piggies into your mouth this month and boy how good they must taste! Really, it’s quite an accomplishment considering those fat rolls on your thighs. My goodness, you’re cute! You’re absolutely perfect. At your last check up (when you had to get those mean shots) you weighed in at 14 pounds 10 ounces, 24 3/4 inches long, and your head was 16 inches.

You’ve got some pretty big brains in there, I think. You’re smart Emma Kate. There are things you do, that others may think are a fluke or accidental, but mama doesn’t think so. I swear you know how to play peek a boo. You pull a burp cloth or a small blanket up over your face and wait for us to say “Where’s Emma?” and then you pull it down to see us. You do this again and again. You give mama kisses on the cheek with that wide open mouth and you go in for Eskimo kisses with your Grandy. You know that when you press down on that little green button the wipes will open up and you can try to eat them.

Bath time is a blast. You’ve outgrown those little baby baths so you are a big girl in the tub these days. And boy do you make a splash, literally. You kick those feet like mad and splash water until it hits you in the face and slows you down a bit.

Sleeping is getting better. This month, I’ve tried out a new method I read about on the internet called the E.A.S.Y method. You eat, then you have activity time, and then when I notice you are getting drowsy, I’ll hold you with your binky for just a little while till your eyes are heavy, then I put you in your bed and you go right to sleep. Usually. You like to put a little blanket over your head. I gave you a soft blanket to hold onto, and when I went back to check on you, you were sound asleep with it over your face. Now, that’s just what you do. Going to sleep works just fine, it’s just staying asleep that you don’t care for. But you’re getting better.

You were dedicated to the Lord on June 3rd at Briarwood Church and received your very first little pink Bible and a certificate. All the congregation reached out their hands to you as the pastor prayed God’s protection and guidance over your life. He also made me tell the story of how a man in the church told me you were coming years ago, but I thought he was crazy.

We had your pictures made this month with all your cousins on my side of the family. Your aunt Jolea and your cousins Hannah and Zoie came to visit. It was the first time H & Z had ever seen you, so we gathered up your cousins Harley and Maxx as well and went to daddy’s work to have pictures made. They’re going to make Grandy a nice birthday present in a few days.

We also had your pictures made by yourself.

The doctor said we can start you on some rice cereal if we want, and start trying some other foods. So mommy jumped the gun and gave you a taste of avocado instead! You liked that for a little bit, but not for long. I’ve also given you tastes of strawberry, cantaloupe, and asparagus! Mostly you shuddered and got this awful look on your face. So we’re still waiting on the whole eating thing.

I hope I’m capturing everything I can about your little life honey. You are our little joy. Your daddy and I want to do the best we can for you. There will be times that we fail miserably I know. We’re going to have bad times along with the good on this ride. I want you to have good memories of your childhood with us. I want you to always know you’re loved deeply by us, grandparents, cousins, aunts, uncles, friends, and mostly by Jesus. It’s incomprehensible that He loves you more than I do, but He does. My love for you pales in comparison.

I’m so happy to have you, baby of mine.

XOXO,

Mommy