This is it! She’s a quarter of a year. Seriously?
Just telling a story.
We share secrets.
She's really good at hanging out.
In this last month she has been a big time talker. She has a lot of stories to tell, and sometimes yell. She is also really reactive, in the best way possible. She is full of smiles. And we both, dad and I, cannot believe that she is ours and her smiles are biggest for both of us. There is nothing better… honestly nothing (and I’ve donealottathings/beenalottaplaces/seenalottathings)…. than catching her smiles and feeling her sweet little fingers wrap around my thumb. I love her so much everyday.
I have to confess a deep seated fear on here. Publicly, so friends can know what is stirring in my heart when I come by for a visit with my constant pal, Evelyn. I fear my presence. I fear that people will not allow themselves to love her fully because the mother is hovering. The mother is leering around the corner with her eye pierced on her baby giggling with friends. I do NOT want to be like that. I want the ones I love to love her fully. I want the ones I love to share secrets with Evelyn. I want the ones I love to whisper prayers in her soft, hairy ears. I want the ones I love to stir up her infectious smile (which is not very hard to do… oh my little happy one).
I know that I am not alone. I have felt the gaze of a mother when I am playing with their child and I start to get worried that I’m doing it wrong. That I can’t enter into their imaginative world because the mother is leering. I know that most mothers are not leering but gazing fondly, but mothers can be intimidating.
So my loved ones, know that when I look over at you giggling with Evelyn, I am not trying to interfere with your time, I am only a magnet. And that time you have with her is yours. Please introduce to her to magic and mystery. Please let her feel loved and brave. So now you know.
What were good at... takin' naps.
Little Evelyn Mae bearcub is 2 months old today. She’s a growing gal. She just weighed in at 10.45lbs. I’m so proud.
Let’s see… she has discovered her toes, learned how to giggle, told some tall tales, seen snow for the first time and felt it on her tongue, been kissed a million and one times by both mom and dad, and learned how to separate night and day. That last one is not the most important, but it is a great thing she seems to have picked up on. She is now sleeping blissfully for about six hours a night. What?!? How can that be?!? I know. I’m dumbfounded everyday (and by admitting this, I cannot hide behind the excuse that I am still wearing my PJ’s). Sure she cries (in fact I just had to pause this post to ease her hunger cry). And sometimes she yells and demands for food, sleep, or her soother. But for the most part she is content and curious. I just love her. I continue to love her so much everyday. Hurrah little one! You are succeeding at this journey and I am so excited I get to witness you through it all.
What I mean to say is that balls are not tough. Oh! and warning I am NOT talking about base/foot/soccer/tennis/golf or any other sport balls. I’m talking about the non medical term for testicles. I read a quote awhile ago and forget how it goes exactly, but it’s basic premise was that using the phrase “tough as balls” is really quite inaccurate because balls tend to be soft, tender, and prone to pain. Instead, it may be more accurate, if we want to continue the theme of using human genitals, to say that being tough or strong or brave would be likened to something female. Like “you’ve got oves. (short for Ovaries)”, or “serious lady parts”! Women are capable of having babies. BABIES and they do it everyday all over the world.
It’s no secret that I am proud to be a woman. Proud to seek out the strength within me. But I am also thankful and grateful and blessed to be surrounded by so many strong and caring men. Caring, sensitive men, who seek compassion and grace as well as bravery and integrity. We, no names mentioned, are trying to break these bonds that put one of us in a role. We are, both of us, human.
Sorry this was so feminist feeling. And also probably so gross. Josh told me I shouldn’t post it. Free speech in your face Mr.Dadkins. Also… I love you. Can’t you tell.
tough as ovaries.
I love my little gal. And I’m pretty sure she loves me too. I know she loves my boobs, but I’d like to think she also loves me, her mom. Perhaps maybe she loves the way I tickle her belly, I rub the fuzzy little hairs on top of her head, I let her nuzzle her nose into my neck, the way I sing off key to her, how I tell her she’s important to me everyday for the rest of her days. I think she loves me for more than my boobs? I can tell because she’s started smiling at me.
I.melt.every.single.freaking.time.just my favorite little person
And to pull this slightly away from her, because I said I wouldn’t just write about her (although that is what I do 24 hours a day is hang around that gal), but how often do we let those around us know that how they love us is working. Yes, husband dearest, I do feel loved by you. I feel it in my guts when I see you so diligently sewing away on your many projects and when you come riding home at night and your headlamp shines into the family room to see your two gals hanging out. And yes, dear mother, I feel your love when you call just to chat even though we live so close and we never had chatty phone calls when I lived thousands of miles away, but now we do, and it’s so nice (and also when you clean my house while you watch our baby while I’m at class).
Right now, all Ev can give me is some smiles, well and a loaded dose of oxytocin every time she’s eating that makes me fall in love with her, but those smiles, OH those smiles. I want to give all those I love those smiles because I love you and I feel so incredibly loved by you.
because I love you everyday.