Tuesday, June 29, 2010
But she turned four months old last week. I would say "How in the world is this possible since it was only a few weeks ago I was rocking ABIGAIL to sleep???" But it is possible. We all know it and lament it.
She is currently lying on the floor on her blanket doing her usual singing/cooing/whining combo. She seems tired and doesn't really cry (I mean, she does cry, just not in these moments). She lies on her tummy and just.....complains. In an adorable baby way. She chews her fingers, her burp cloth, her entire fist. And just makes noise. It is like her sweet, droning lullaby to herself.
She is a mover. She rolls over from back to tummy. Boom. Instantly. There is really no use in putting her on her back anymore because she stays there all of 0.7 seconds. I have witnessed four rolls in a row (Daddy did, too), but usually she just rolls from back to tummy and stays there. Sometimes she makes noise, sometimes she just props herself up on her forearms and watches the world go by.
She is a watcher. She always wants to be held in an upright position (don't even TRY putting her on her back). She prefers sitting up in an exersaucer or being propped up against pillows to any kind of horizontal position. She wants to watch, watch, watch. My favorite is when she turns her head and just stares at Abigail. It is like she is making mental notes....oh, I will be just like her in that way. No wait, Mommy didn't sound so nice in the way she said that to her, so maybe I won't do what she just did. Oh, that big sissy-person is funny. She makes me want to kick my legs. She talks to me in silly voices. Yeah, I like her.
She is a cuddler. If she is being held, 99% of the time, she is happy. If she is not being held, well, all bets are off. She wants to be in your arms, so quit sitting and talking to adults in the room and pick me up.
She is a Mommy's girl. I didn't really try and make this happen. It just did. So if you are holding her and she cries, and then I pick her up and she immediately goes silent and happy, well.....whoops. It's just how it is. It is the Power of the Mommy. It's like strong voodoo magic, and I don't know how to do otherwise.
She is a blessing. She is every bit as perfectly awesome as I remember babies being at this age. Even when a day with a baby is not always easy or perfect, it is a day with a baby. And that is wonderful.
Love our Sadie Grace. Happy four months old!
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
1. I'm not whining. I'm just talking in a whiney voice.
2. Mommy, have you ever eaten boogies? They are salty and good.
3. And my recent favorite: On our last night in Orlando, we ate at a super-yummy Brazilian restaurant. They served fried yucca with each meal, which is basically like french fries, only a little more bland tasting and in much need of vinegar, salt, or ketchup. The Brazilian owner kept pronouncing it yook-a, so we were all cultured saying, "Oh Abigail, try the YOOKA, it's like french fries. So good!"
To which she responded, "It's not said YOOKA, it's said FUH-YOOKA."
To which Paul responded, "Uh, nope. No, it's not."
I know it may be hard, but it's best to not bring these things up to Abigail. She doesn't know "what word it sounded like" when she said fuh-yooka, and it would just require explaining that I would rather not do when she is four. And she hates feeling laughed at (HATES IT), so let's just all have a good laugh while looking at the computer. And never speak of it again.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
We are going to Florida for the Southern Baptist Convention and tacking on a couple of days for family time. We are definitely looking forward to a break and some fun time as family and seeing friends.
Yet there is still sadness. In some ways, the last few days have reminded me of how I felt after my second miscarriage. I would read facebook statuses and ponder how everyone else's days were going on normally while ours felt like there was an empty hole in it. I would go about the normal things of the day and then have a moment where the hurt would grab me and I would think "too normal, too soon."
I'm hurting for my husband, my daughters, my sisters- and brothers-in-law. I'm hurting for me. There is a lot about this precious mother-in-law of mine that I am not sure I appreciated enough while she was with us. I think I gradually appreciated her more over the course of my marriage to Paul, but most of all now that she is gone. I remember my mom saying how she and my grandma used to butt heads over things all the time, but once grandma had passed, none of those things mattered anymore. That's how I feel now....none of that "stuff" matters anymore. All that matters is that we miss her.
I keep replaying our visit with her just one week ago yesterday. I keep remembering her voice, her hugs, her conversation.
We are okay. Yes, we are okay. Just different now. Looking forward to the break ahead, but still remembering. Stuck...for now.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
I shared this today at her funeral. Wasn't sure whether to post it, but Paul told me he hoped that I would.
When your daddy is a pastor, your four-year-old daughter has more than the average kid’s experience with going to funerals. She has been to several funerals of people at our church, and just a few months ago even experienced the death of her Memaw and Papa’s kitty, Bart. These are things that are hard to explain to your little one, but we try our best to find the words to help it make sense. Last summer, we lost a dear person in our church to a battle with cancer. We went to the funeral together, and then Abigail had her first time going to the cemetery. We explained to her that Sam’s body was in that big box, and they were going to put it into the ground because now that he was in Heaven with Jesus, God gave him a brand new body that wasn’t sick anymore. It could run and jump and dance.
We explained that dying is like going to sleep here, but when you wake up you are in Heaven. When you wake up, you see God’s face, and that is pretty awesome. We told her that you will see people here crying, but it is only because we are sad that we don’t get to spend time with the person we love anymore until we go to live in heaven. And if we are smiling and laughing, it’s because we remember how much we loved that person and all o f the special times with them. Either emotion is okay to have.
We have talked about the beauty of heaven, as best as we can understand it. How the streets are made of pure gold and God has a house just for you.
Recently, however, we talked about something that held fast in her little mind. We were driving to my parents house, and the subject of heaven came up. We are going to Disney World soon for a vacation, and Abigail said “Disney World is the best place in the world. But it’s not as good as heaven.” Then I said, “Abigail, did you know that when you go to heaven, you have a HUGE feast? It’s the biggest and best meal you could possibly imagine. And we get to eat with God! If you could think of your very favorite foods to eat at the feast in heaven, what would you have?”
She thought for a minute and said, “Cake. And cookies.”
“Those would be delicious things to eat,” I said. Then I told her the things I would choose to eat, knowing full well they were things that I love but she thinks are disgusting. “I would eat LOTS of shrimp. And crab legs. And COTTAGE CHEESE. MMMMMM, LOTS OF COTTAGE CHEESE.”
“Ewwwwwww!” she said.
The last several weeks, Abigail has talked a lot about that feast. When she saw Bart, the kitty’s grave at my parents’ house, she said, “He’s at the kitty feast in heaven. She’s prayed about it. She’s thanked God for it.
On Monday, we visited with Jean for the last time. She was awake, though confused, and we had a wonderful time with her. We talked, Abigail sang to her, she held our baby Sadie and when her arms were too tired, I held Sadie and Jean gently stroked her little bare foot while we talked. Abigail went over next to Paul and smiled at Jean. “We’ll see her at the feast.”
Paul and I exchanged looks quickly, tears springing to our eyes. Jean said, “What did she say? I didn’t hear what she said.”
“She was just telling me something.” Paul answered.
It’s hard to tell your daughter that the grandma she loved has gone to live with Jesus. But in her own way, I think Abigail understood better than most adults do. Jean is sitting at the banquet table of God. Enjoying the fullness of Him. And Abigail knows we will see her again….and what a feast it will be.