tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88376294423403095702024-03-19T00:25:50.169-04:00Anna's JoyNew blog at www.annasjoy.comAnna Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06623013797835397745noreply@blogger.comBlogger272125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8837629442340309570.post-77973118782124944152015-04-01T07:26:00.003-04:002015-04-01T07:26:52.120-04:00New Blog... come on over!A long time ago in a land far away, there was a girl named Anna. She used to write regularly to let her friends and family in on what was going on in her heart and life. Then she stopped writing because her heart and life got really full. Then she felt bad about it and put off writing longer and longer until she lost the habit.<br />
<br />
One day, a magic fairy appeared and waved a wand and gave Anna lots of discipline and time to write and create, while still being a good mommy to her two precious children and a darling wife to her dashing prince.<br />
<br />
Wait. No. That didn't happen.<br />
<br />
I just got some friends who remind me constantly that I need to write, so to <strike>get them off my back</strike> be a good steward, I started a new blog where I'm actually going to post stuff. So help me God. Seriously, I will need His help!<br />
<br />
Anyway, if you want to check it out, come on over to <a href="http://www.annasjoy.com/">www.annasjoy.com</a>. I even got my own domain, ain't that fancy? If' you're reading this, you probably subscribe, so you can be my first visitors before I post anything about the new site on the social media places.<br />
<br />
I'll leave this blog up in case I need to reference anything, but all new content will go over on annasjoy.com.<br />
<br />
See you there!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anna Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06623013797835397745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8837629442340309570.post-104917033919732662013-11-09T14:43:00.000-05:002013-11-09T14:43:06.532-05:00We're having the baby here
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You don’t even have to say it. I know, already. I’m the
worst blogger ever.</div>
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<br /></div>
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No. I’m not even a blogger, because to be a blogger, you
have to, well, write on your blog, which I apparently don’t do anymore. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But here I am, and for the handful of you who might not
follow me on Instagram or Facebook, there are a few major changes to my status
over the past few months that you might care to know about.</div>
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<br /></div>
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First, I’m pregnant! It’s a boy! He’s due in less than two
months! Poor little guy, he’s not even born yet and I’m already falling behind
in tracking and recording his life. And look, even now when I’m making the big
announcement here, he gets a tiny paragraph. I'm even posting an outdated picture in his debut here.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1LcWCxqmBY-yFvYYIhafw1ZZJo3tV2vlyjo8TXv1oWozgH8ZGWmCewdyBtbUtIA1hd88qRgHTJ4zbb1oqjKNuMs_KGQwZskTzvS_dE0NgbZTYycCNCiSJnlt1fwoEdNIJE4dscU_IkZYd/s1600/FBbannerannounce.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1LcWCxqmBY-yFvYYIhafw1ZZJo3tV2vlyjo8TXv1oWozgH8ZGWmCewdyBtbUtIA1hd88qRgHTJ4zbb1oqjKNuMs_KGQwZskTzvS_dE0NgbZTYycCNCiSJnlt1fwoEdNIJE4dscU_IkZYd/s640/FBbannerannounce.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here he is at 16 weeks in the announcement I put on FB (He's now 32 weeks!)</td></tr>
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Second, we moved to the Middle East. I wrote about it <a href="http://annasjoyblog.blogspot.com/2012/09/big-not-pregnant-news.html">last year,</a> so if you don’t know already, you can go there and try to crack my code
(haha) on where exactly we are.</div>
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<br /></div>
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So now, I hope my title makes more sense. We have decided to
deliver “Baby J” here, since the doctors and facilities are more than adequate
and we get to stay together as a family. Going back to the States to deliver
has its advantages, but the biggest disadvantage would be that Ayla and I would
have to go 6 weeks before the due date and stay at least 6 weeks after his birth, while John
would only be able to come for about 3 of those. We've already done enough separated time, so we'll stick this one out. </div>
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<br /></div>
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I want to write more about all of these things, but had to
start with actually telling you about them. I figure rather than try to
overload this space with a complete catch-up, I’ll space it out to give you
something to read on your potty breaks (if you don’t check your phone or read
blogs when you’re on the potty, then neither do I).</div>
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<br /></div>
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Thanks for still reading and I’ll see you again here, soon!</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Anna Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06623013797835397745noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8837629442340309570.post-88048062652204192702013-06-27T20:55:00.001-04:002013-06-27T20:55:58.150-04:00Little Days: Big Girl BedWell folks, I was wrong.<br />
<br />
Actually, I was right before I was wrong. Back when I wrote the post on weaning, I said that nothing is as big a deal as I think it's going to be.<br />
<br />
For the last few months, I've been dragging my feet about converting Ayla's crib to a toddler bed, dreading all the re-sleep-training I was going to have to do. I should've listened to myself and all my friends who just did this and had great results.<br />
<br />
I mean, if you've ever seen Ayla in her pre-sleep state, you can understand my hesitancy. She treated her crib like a wrestling ring, flinging herself from one side to the other, doing flips, rearranging the toys, pillows and blankets, making tents and tunnels for herself, just about anything but actually laying still.<br />
<br />
One thing she hadn't done, until last weekend's failed-but-hilarious attempt at a sleepover with her best friend, is climb out of her crib. Even then, when she showed she could climb out safely, she learned quickly that she wasn't allowed to until Mommy came to get her.<br />
<br />
Which leads us to this post. We (and when I say "we" I mean her Daddy) took the side off last night. And she was so excited to sleep in her big girl bed (which is the exact same place, mattress, pillow, etc.. she has slept in all her life, but you wouldn't know it by her reaction!), she didn't budge! All night!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Before: freedom?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is her "pretend you're sleeping" face</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After: happy girl in the morning</td></tr>
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<br />
Thinking this was surely a fluke and would certainly not be repeated at nap time, I hunkered down for a long fight this afternoon. Nope. She was still, quiet and slept an extra hour!<br />
<br />
So, of course, now that I'm posting this, I'll probably jinx it and she'll be back to her shenanigans soon. The smile on her face as she snuggles into her "new bed" is totally worth it!<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; text-align: center;">
Join the<a href="http://www.thescribblepadblog.com/2013/06/little-days-with-hudson.html"> Little Days</a> link up! </div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; text-align: center;">
Share a post of what makes the days with your children special. The goal of this link up is to encourage busy mommas to remember the little moments that outweigh the struggles and make it worth the adventure. </div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; text-align: center;">
share #littledays and the love.</div>
Anna Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06623013797835397745noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8837629442340309570.post-18306582077012502412013-06-06T16:08:00.000-04:002013-06-06T16:08:06.470-04:00Little Days: Kitchen HelperAyla is finally starting to earn her keep around here by being my little helper in the kitchen. As most parents of kids around this age learn, their "help," can turn cooking (and cleaning up!) into a new adventure.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrQgOyyetdxR4EBnorMtippoRVEagipmxdgcrhOtUglQUigO6_R5xp-0ss1Hfpa6VOA1yAz8NHVNL7CQi7lvApgk647SzxzJucOO-c76Rreban6DOiYPnFNwxQ8AfM1TBCN9-d9feLsjLa/s1600/Photo+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrQgOyyetdxR4EBnorMtippoRVEagipmxdgcrhOtUglQUigO6_R5xp-0ss1Hfpa6VOA1yAz8NHVNL7CQi7lvApgk647SzxzJucOO-c76Rreban6DOiYPnFNwxQ8AfM1TBCN9-d9feLsjLa/s1600/Photo+1.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
One thing Ayla's getting pretty good at is helping me crack eggs. In fact, if she spies or even thinks she hears me pulling the eggs out of the fridge, she comes running in yelling, "I needa help!" We get out her cute little apron, she climbs up on her little stool and I let her crack the eggs into a separate bowl before we pour them into their final destination. Since fried eggs are one of her most reliable staples for breakfast, she gets lots of practice cracking eggs!<br />
<br />
This comfort with eggs did result in a pretty funny story. A few weeks ago, I took Ayla over to my friend's house for a play date. Since this friend's kids were school age, it was actually a play date for the mommies, but Ayla had full access to their ample playroom. We were upstairs having a nice chat, when she popped her cute little head up the stairs and told me she needed help with the eggs. There was a play kitchen down there, so I followed her back, curious what help she needed.<br />
<br />
Turns out, she had discovered the pile of Easter eggs, stashed away and forgotten in a corner and had begun cracking them. After several empty eggs, she must have been so confused and decided to call in the big guns! My friend assured me her kids wouldn't miss them, we had a good laugh and swept up the tiny colored bits of shell.<br />
<br />
The moral of the story is, if you are around Ayla and don't want your eggs cracked, don't let her see them!<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; text-align: center;">
Join the <a href="http://www.thescribblepadblog.com/2013/06/little-days-with-friends-on-water.html">Little Days link up</a>!</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; text-align: center;">
Share a post of what makes the days with your children special. </div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; text-align: center;">
The goal of this link up is to encourage busy mommas to remember the little moments that outweigh the struggles and make it worth the adventure. </div>
Anna Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06623013797835397745noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8837629442340309570.post-11667746620299967672013-05-12T08:01:00.001-04:002013-05-12T08:01:17.668-04:00If Mother's Day is hard for you
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<i>(Because when you wake up at 5am with words heavy on your
heart, you shouldn’t waste it. Because laying there in bed wishing for sleep to
return isn’t going to make those words go away. Because some other people are lying
awake this morning with heavy hearts and your words might help them.)</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOGf1RgssDQ3ZHWKN5OY0utj2vBjGbBDehAOHEqtEPMm6GkcM3qkjcz2LdbVTpDa7gI-Bhzta6hsmOiEknRDliyyp3LzCtQvDhjcsbmOIhUuT1QCARgl7s-3a8nmg6zMQJ0gKhjXsfvOM8/s1600/IMG_9171.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOGf1RgssDQ3ZHWKN5OY0utj2vBjGbBDehAOHEqtEPMm6GkcM3qkjcz2LdbVTpDa7gI-Bhzta6hsmOiEknRDliyyp3LzCtQvDhjcsbmOIhUuT1QCARgl7s-3a8nmg6zMQJ0gKhjXsfvOM8/s400/IMG_9171.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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This one is for my dear friends in the mama waiting zone.
Maybe there’s a guy out there who could benefit from this too, but I’m writing
for you girls. For those who this “Mother’s Day” feels a bit like Valentine’s
Day used to when we were single. Today, when breakfasts are balanced in beds and cards attempt to express unspeakable
feelings, and flowers are handed out, you are empty handed.</div>
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You read other words of sympathy and compassion for you, from
other mamas who spent a long time in that waiting zone and other mamas who have
babies they never got to hold or not hold long enough. And when the ever
brilliant <a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/2013/05/why-mothers-day-is-for-the-birds/">Ann</a> says<b>, “Real Womanhood
isn’t a function of becoming a great mother, but of being loved by your Great
Father,” </b>you nod and try to swallow away that lump in your throat, because
you know it’s true but you still feel that emptiness growing until it feels
like you just might burst.</div>
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I imagine what I have to say to you here being something like
what one character says to another at the climax of a movie, where truth is
told in words that they don’t really want to hear, but need to hear, and then
they can let go or grab on to something (or someone) to get their resolution.
So please hear this in love:</div>
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<b>If today is hard for you because motherhood has become an
idol, it’s time to lay it down. </b></div>
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<br /></div>
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An idol is anything we set up to be bigger in our hearts
than God. Though it’s super hard to admit it, even good things can become
idols. Even that good, God-given thing of dreams, longings, desires of
motherhood, can become an idol. When the pain of the not-having becomes
stronger than the faith-act of thanksgiving for what you do have, you may have
an idol. When an ideal presented in edited, filtered digits by someone else
becomes more desirable than the breathing flesh directly in your reach, you may
have an idol.</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVgCMSJA9DEzgbWYBykcs3qyEouRu6P-ivghvV6IoFljfut3bac2JCCGCYc6-PZBswwRBQUmCa7V30FrdTu03-HslIkWz6yVum2ZwdlWhvja6Xh2_Q6_bYWVtXETJqAa1HaDhu512f-veX/s1600/IMG_9165.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVgCMSJA9DEzgbWYBykcs3qyEouRu6P-ivghvV6IoFljfut3bac2JCCGCYc6-PZBswwRBQUmCa7V30FrdTu03-HslIkWz6yVum2ZwdlWhvja6Xh2_Q6_bYWVtXETJqAa1HaDhu512f-veX/s400/IMG_9165.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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I’m telling you sister, lay that idol down now. It only gets
heavier and stickier when it gets a face and a name. When you have that baby
and you get those cards and now you can really celebrate this day, if
motherhood is still an idol, you may not be able to smell the sweetness of
those flowers. Because what you have still won’t be good enough. In all
likelihood, <b>you won’t feel good enough</b>. The voices that said you were
incomplete before being a mom will start saying you could do more, be more. And when your kids get older and make their own choices, you might still hear that you weren't good enough. And Mother's Day still won't be a day of joy.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I was in the waiting zone, more than one well-meaning,
loving person suggested I lay down the desire to become a mother. God knows, I
tried. Through altar calls and tear-soaked pillows, I tried to lay it down,
only to find it again the next day in a baby’s cry the aisle over or a news
report of yet another one hurt by someone who was supposed to take care of him
or her.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So that’s not what I’m telling you, to lay down your
desires. Maybe you need to do that, but what I’m pleading with you is to
consider where this desire-turned-pain is in relation to your view of the
Giver. If the desire has become an idol, there is no better day to get it out
of the way (or start to, it took longer than a day to get there and might take longer to get rid of). And how might you do this, you might ask.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPe69NVpYVYJcXhDQP30KDpteGmhfqry4ZNvHG2ehPz0c1bJZSoOdDrNHHkp5rzWzriObTXq223hIm_o7KIluTHsh4fqyzL1uQ3vhJE_mtHi-fZvZA8VtjO83Wzgf8gEJHFmNag8xH-ktu/s1600/IMG_9300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPe69NVpYVYJcXhDQP30KDpteGmhfqry4ZNvHG2ehPz0c1bJZSoOdDrNHHkp5rzWzriObTXq223hIm_o7KIluTHsh4fqyzL1uQ3vhJE_mtHi-fZvZA8VtjO83Wzgf8gEJHFmNag8xH-ktu/s400/IMG_9300.jpg" width="236" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>Make God bigger. </b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Or in Psalms-speak, “Magnify the LORD!”</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ask God to examine your heart and inmost thoughts, ask that
gentle Counselor to show you where things are off. Ask Truth to show you the
gifts and the work that are present in you right now, things you don’t have to
wait for but can partake in now. If you have trusted in God and are on the path
of discipleship to enter His Kingdom, then these things abound, I promise you.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m praying for you, friend, this morning and throughout
today. Will you pray for me, too? I can write this because I’m living it. <b>No
pointing fingers here, unless it’s just to show you my own scars and tell you,
“Me too.”</b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tasty bites to get you started:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Psalm 34:3, “Oh,<b> magnify the LORD</b> with me, and let us exalt
His name together.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Psalm 34:8, “Taste and see that the LORD is good, blessed is
the man (or woman) who trusts in Him!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Psalm 34:15, “The eyes of the LORD are on the righteous, His
ears are open to their cry.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Psalm 69:29-33, “But I am poor and sorrowful;</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Let Your salvation, O God, set me up on high.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I will praise
the name of God with a song,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And will <b>magnify Him with thanksgiving</b>.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This also shall please the Lord better than an ox or bull,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Which has horns and hooves.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The humble shall see this and be glad;</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And you who seek God, your hearts shall live.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For the Lord hears the poor,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And does not despise His prisoners.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgamfue0iyGHef0Vx68AI8-neAiqYm-h6Y5OojfIBAyvd9cCKFulnC_PJld9bvVdTMW-miNl1R-5HsIbcwa6UN0F54IXRqg36hr_eFJMsvVxec8WYA6Ct28CXs7wzao6FpocEhI5grANpjc/s1600/IMG_9287.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgamfue0iyGHef0Vx68AI8-neAiqYm-h6Y5OojfIBAyvd9cCKFulnC_PJld9bvVdTMW-miNl1R-5HsIbcwa6UN0F54IXRqg36hr_eFJMsvVxec8WYA6Ct28CXs7wzao6FpocEhI5grANpjc/s400/IMG_9287.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>(And because there are still more words before I can click
save and post: If today is hard because of your relationship with your own
mother, can I gently ask <b>if your ideal of what she should’ve been is the idol</b>? Maybe
you deserved better, I’ll trust you on that, but maybe what you do have--God’s
goodness, love, forgiveness, grace--should have a bigger headline.)</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Anna Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06623013797835397745noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8837629442340309570.post-75056234731005453292013-05-02T22:18:00.001-04:002013-05-02T23:02:45.981-04:00Little Days: A few stories about booksDo you remember how Ayla learned to say "No, no" from reading Sandra Boynton's <i>Moo, Baa, La La La, </i>and how I said I was not going to let her read any more books?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWxuec2enS8K9mgye72CX-zF1lGt_tmynRDh_weKlO7BH1GdIfpGysXu1lKPFsB42bVqUjSsgoH1nFI9kk6E2O-eTDH1azWcteqPkv6sOND9dGv4VhrkIz0CuT09RyMsL8NhE6dXwBYxOv/s1600/IMG_3416.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWxuec2enS8K9mgye72CX-zF1lGt_tmynRDh_weKlO7BH1GdIfpGysXu1lKPFsB42bVqUjSsgoH1nFI9kk6E2O-eTDH1azWcteqPkv6sOND9dGv4VhrkIz0CuT09RyMsL8NhE6dXwBYxOv/s1600/IMG_3416.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feb 2012</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<br />
Well, I lied. She continues to read books and I'm actually pretty happy about it! I thought I'd share with you some fun ways other books have influenced her.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5zu8JzZI3zcHWUZYLKoahcAz0rwm-nEwlsAO_arWFthuTDryv3toNI5Yrbhyphenhyphenk_KpfZgA_tBHweeSyb_MjWAxkv5P5lQYOu5vZd-aHEd8-qABb1Gvo4PoVbelPE17LlXdA3z_w54zX-Lgf/s1600/Bump+Photos-+May+02+2013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5zu8JzZI3zcHWUZYLKoahcAz0rwm-nEwlsAO_arWFthuTDryv3toNI5Yrbhyphenhyphenk_KpfZgA_tBHweeSyb_MjWAxkv5P5lQYOu5vZd-aHEd8-qABb1Gvo4PoVbelPE17LlXdA3z_w54zX-Lgf/s1600/Bump+Photos-+May+02+2013.jpg" height="512" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
1) <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Good-Night-Virginia-Our-World/dp/1602190267/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1367546539&sr=1-1&keywords=good+night+virginia">Good Night, Virginia</a>: </i>Her favorite page is the one with Monticello on it. We've never been there, but are planning to go soon. She thinks any big, brick house is Monticello, and a few days ago started chanting it while pointing at a box of wine bottles while we were in line at the store. I was puzzled until I saw that the plantation house on the box did look similar to Monticello. The cashier was very impressed.<br />
<br />
2-3) <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Elmos-ABC-Book-Big-Sesame/dp/0763643661/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1367546573&sr=1-2&keywords=elmo%27s+abc+book">Elmo's ABC Book</a>:</i> Though she already knew her alphabet when we got this book, it has taught her a few other things (who Elmo is being one of my least favorite!). When she describes any food, she calls it "delicious and crunchy," because that's what it says about apples, and then she says that food starts with "A." For example, "Bagels are delicious and crunchy. Bagel starts with A." She also likes to tell the knock-knock joke Elmo is telling Oscar in picture 3. Oh, I'm not going to tell you which joke it is, though. You'll have to hear it from Ayla herself!<br />
<br />
4) <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Olivia-Ian-Falconer/dp/0689829531/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1367546665&sr=1-1&keywords=olivia+the+pig">Olivia:</a> </i>We checked this one out from the library, and I thought it was pretty cute the first couple of times I read it to her. Of course, it was her favorite book and had to be read several times a day. (I was very happy to take it back today!) On a separate note, Ayla has been slow to give names to any of her stuffed animals. So far she has JoJo the purple unicorn, Gato the cat, Henry the rocking horse, which is of course not to be confused with Horse the zebra. All the others are the animal's name or its derivative. After reading<i> Olivia</i>, however, Ayla decided her pink doggy's name is Ian. (Ian is Olivia's little brother in the book.)<br />
<br />
5-6) <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Anna-Banana-Me-Lenore-Blegvad/dp/B009CPUSJ2/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1367546737&sr=1-3&keywords=anna+banana+and+me">Anna Banana and Me</a></i>: My friend, Heather, sent me this book long before Ayla existed. I introduced it to Ayla about a month ago and it's in constant rotation now. She especially likes how Anna Banana says she's swinging "over the treetops,"and always asks to go that high.<br />
<br />
(I'm linking up with my friend <a href="http://www.thescribblepadblog.com/">Shannon</a> for Little Days, an effort to chronicle the little things we enjoy about raising our little ones. Click over to her sweet blog to see others.)<br />
<br />
<br />
Anna Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06623013797835397745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8837629442340309570.post-90837867591366958992013-04-25T21:13:00.001-04:002013-04-25T21:14:23.863-04:00Little Days: What She's Up To<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkxfGfgu_dSPVaSNay3oLimzapMShccOdusQPEg71WjmHL2QSiTwVaYXFiSN1PgVhCMj8Xjs47OicHzUO_5sJBle457Sn1V26BeOSTH8TpmuTiZ1q3c9z_3TNt45wZHgGdo2Q_JzDHhUY0/s1600/DSC02457.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkxfGfgu_dSPVaSNay3oLimzapMShccOdusQPEg71WjmHL2QSiTwVaYXFiSN1PgVhCMj8Xjs47OicHzUO_5sJBle457Sn1V26BeOSTH8TpmuTiZ1q3c9z_3TNt45wZHgGdo2Q_JzDHhUY0/s320/DSC02457.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo courtesy of Grandma C</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Ayla is going through her own version of Spring. Every day, something new shows up in her vocabulary or skill set. She's in a fun season of blossoming and growing, even though the growing causes a little pain at times.<br />
<br />
My friend, <a href="http://www.thescribblepadblog.com/">Shannon</a>, started the series Little Days to capture the little moments that make parenthood so special, and I'm linking up with her today. I'll share two little phrases that symbolize what my girl is up to these days.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgifoU70cib_Gsxxt2IH-1jiVMRZ2xmUlLK_X2Q-QgXOmYXSaOTIMMxyrqvV2ZbbAsQhz00ZfBAxg7fEOj0nwxkmWflnQNf9Uh-Z5uwfsk6h-U4nlQZiywPm9W0K-bYrPX6r_EASdCoxNtX/s1600/Photo+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgifoU70cib_Gsxxt2IH-1jiVMRZ2xmUlLK_X2Q-QgXOmYXSaOTIMMxyrqvV2ZbbAsQhz00ZfBAxg7fEOj0nwxkmWflnQNf9Uh-Z5uwfsk6h-U4nlQZiywPm9W0K-bYrPX6r_EASdCoxNtX/s320/Photo+1.jpg" width="253" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<b>"I do it byself"</b><br />
Forget July 4th, every day is independence day around here! I'm convinced Ayla combined two words into one because she just doesn't have time to slow down. There are car seats to climb and be buckled into, milk cups to pour and put lids onto. There are panties to pull down and toilet seats to climb on, teeth to brush and hair bows to put in, shoes and socks to get on and off (mostly off). Never ask God for patience, just ask Him for a toddler in the "byself" phase! Patience is a must! Her dad let me in on one of his effective techniques with her, to allow a "byself" as long as I get a turn, too-- and I apply it liberally!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-uqLieX67hIeT4bYjpsuAw_L9wJX0ln8y_rYqqsdX9NJP63-oSZjzCOYg8ZjmAK4i9ywSWPG_RSs4lwzu4uqKmgeFCZTRasHq-LX0s2gh9rgQ90VW_PHjGMPwTbmf7CTNUxsKx_MNP-r5/s1600/Photo+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-uqLieX67hIeT4bYjpsuAw_L9wJX0ln8y_rYqqsdX9NJP63-oSZjzCOYg8ZjmAK4i9ywSWPG_RSs4lwzu4uqKmgeFCZTRasHq-LX0s2gh9rgQ90VW_PHjGMPwTbmf7CTNUxsKx_MNP-r5/s320/Photo+2.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<b>"Going down bear/bare belly"</b><br />
This is how she insists on going down the stairs. I have no idea which variation of bear/bare she is using. I don't know where she got this idea or why it's called this. She has so much fun and hasn't hurt herself yet, so I allow it. I'm just glad we live in a house with only two stories instead of our skinny townhouse with four!<br />
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<br />
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Check in next week for another "Little Days" post, and be sure to click over to <a href="http://www.thescribblepadblog.com/">The Scribble Pad</a> to see Shannon's adorable little boys!<br />
<br />
<br />Anna Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06623013797835397745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8837629442340309570.post-13868281853418662792013-02-27T20:55:00.000-05:002013-02-27T20:55:24.612-05:00Ayla's Baby<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
A lot of my friends are having or have had babies recently
(actually, I guess that's always happening). </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
To put that another way, a lot of Ayla’s friends are getting
little brothers or little sisters.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj54lBGT3gIa8QDAkE4MU5IamyB0HplczjF4Dd16KMJTSH5T29G1EshdRM9xEgPapM8phSgAfUKQiQ7wuO2p25i5r3BsRPOJtoHbiFIKPGRmMhLYf7Z7DbYDz1ltZwJKf9L5ezGmB_zUkC6/s1600/IMG_4654.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj54lBGT3gIa8QDAkE4MU5IamyB0HplczjF4Dd16KMJTSH5T29G1EshdRM9xEgPapM8phSgAfUKQiQ7wuO2p25i5r3BsRPOJtoHbiFIKPGRmMhLYf7Z7DbYDz1ltZwJKf9L5ezGmB_zUkC6/s320/IMG_4654.jpg" width="206" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
For her, that means a lot of “babies in bellies,” are
becoming “babies out of bellies,” and because her mama is addicted to babies,
that also means we are doing a lot of visiting these new babies.</div>
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As I was putting her to bed a few nights ago, we were
discussing the new baby she had met and the baby in belly she had kissed that
day and the new baby we were going to see the next day. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL7qWVBx1TQ9MsH5xF00IB9RsAP_auXSGZKuVYXjRZvPpjAmIhRNRSJA_eA88WIXHFkFUrir_MZiCAQXQcdA2H8AJGjsvIvfSyQUptjMB7vHYKofgICmddZpaR9cZKzqMzKeV8B2DP_Icz/s1600/Image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL7qWVBx1TQ9MsH5xF00IB9RsAP_auXSGZKuVYXjRZvPpjAmIhRNRSJA_eA88WIXHFkFUrir_MZiCAQXQcdA2H8AJGjsvIvfSyQUptjMB7vHYKofgICmddZpaR9cZKzqMzKeV8B2DP_Icz/s320/Image.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She processed the information for a minute and said, “Ayla
baby in belly,” rubbing her own precious chub. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was transported for a moment to a time in the future,
where, God willing, I will be holding Ayla’s baby the way I was holding her
right then.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI59Io6h-tNez_ogtxfiFp7JfRJ7R92TTvDklQIlQ82823wWUrIQB0rvZyyNpqZbgksf-rnLXzP7pA6q0wTZLQeHhNdV3CAkRnorVB_FcXbcX6I3RyPf9Kd7xzjZXtCvidXnc_jxtlmpLd/s1600/Photo+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI59Io6h-tNez_ogtxfiFp7JfRJ7R92TTvDklQIlQ82823wWUrIQB0rvZyyNpqZbgksf-rnLXzP7pA6q0wTZLQeHhNdV3CAkRnorVB_FcXbcX6I3RyPf9Kd7xzjZXtCvidXnc_jxtlmpLd/s320/Photo+1.jpg" width="273" /></a></div>
<br />
I will look at my proud daughter, love leaking out her eyes, and
know she finally knows.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She’ll finally know how great this love is. She’ll know why
I took way more than a thousand pictures of her during her <a href="http://youtu.be/bd5dpauoO9o">first year</a>. Why I
grab her and kiss her all over a hundred times a day. Why sometimes I stare at the
monitor to see her when she’s sleeping because I miss her even though I’ve
waited for nap time all day. Why I
will read her that book <b>again</b> and even one more time after that. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No,” I told her, when I could speak again, “You don’t have a baby in your belly, but someday
when you grow up, you can have one. You used to be a baby in Mommy’s belly.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Mommy baby in belly,” she said, patting my not-so-precious chub.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“There’s not a baby there right now,” I said. “We are asking
God for a baby in mommy’s belly so Ayla can have a baby brother or sister. Do
you want that?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Uh huh.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Though she doesn’t sound completely convinced, I am glad
that by the time she does get a brother or sister, be it through birth or
adoption, she will be old enough to understand and maybe even to remember
helping Mommy and Daddy pray for him or her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(Will you join us in prayer for that, too? Y’all did so well
in praying Ayla in, I’d love to have you along for the sequel! Thank you!)</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Anna Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06623013797835397745noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8837629442340309570.post-24133925636734328292013-02-12T15:19:00.000-05:002013-02-12T15:19:51.603-05:00Twenty-five months<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
My dear Ayla,</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
You are two now. Two and a month, technically. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqOfcbOeLucPcc17v3fIdGQaiCzZa4hP2XrESvJmVoNjX0Fmx6iSoX3zxW8_OUcpW0rHoJiT1mga4JdIbx9d-0ezPi4T1z707QXCz3HlQDNb9dSslxemkXXjtSBV_I9rp628WMjEc_i0w8/s1600/IMG_2059.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqOfcbOeLucPcc17v3fIdGQaiCzZa4hP2XrESvJmVoNjX0Fmx6iSoX3zxW8_OUcpW0rHoJiT1mga4JdIbx9d-0ezPi4T1z707QXCz3HlQDNb9dSslxemkXXjtSBV_I9rp628WMjEc_i0w8/s400/IMG_2059.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Two (and too) is your favorite word. You worked so hard
to learn how to show two with your fingers, and though you can say your whole
name, when someone asks what your name is, you proudly say, “TWO!” I gotta
admit, even with all the new challenges this age brings, it’s my favorite one
so far, too.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCSaoIC0-IMKtVvZW73MogoJJR2ygGBLpyObKtaFFhErs3GaXU4nYAleUmiZlhLgZjUulWU2YaJQKvJxjXL5Xd6SQ6r9EX2iQFHekOk3rdD3YqHrB-pJHEnoR0XVHVu5juxxUybIoynJ5g/s1600/IMG_2036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCSaoIC0-IMKtVvZW73MogoJJR2ygGBLpyObKtaFFhErs3GaXU4nYAleUmiZlhLgZjUulWU2YaJQKvJxjXL5Xd6SQ6r9EX2iQFHekOk3rdD3YqHrB-pJHEnoR0XVHVu5juxxUybIoynJ5g/s320/IMG_2036.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Speaking of, you’re really into the word and concept of
“too.” “Mocha go nigh-night too!” “Daddy eat too!” “Mommy go pee pee too!”
(We’ll get to the potty training fun we’ve been having later.) You’re good at
doing things by yourself, but if you can get someone (or someanimal as it often
is the case) else to do it “too,” you’re thrilled.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When people were asking me what you were into for birthday
present choosing, it was hard to answer. What aren’t you into? You love
everything outdoors and moving, just like your parents. You love building
towers with your blocks or tea set, throwing balls around and asking “where are
you?” as you chase them, and jumping on mommy and daddy’s bed. You love to
color, though coloring for you is mostly handing me the crayon and telling me
what to draw. I don’t mind. I like to draw for you. I’m getting pretty good at
the kitties and doggies you always “request.” You love animals, your toys and
real ones. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnu0z_NdVJR75xztUzPdSQ6hj_R2rBjD9Nhet-PD1fTgoJa0z7pa0wLpwGVBIkn3Gxzqbk55A2dDQUF8qD8FAomUPFs7jsrjQSDkQybVC8-XQ8Zo3YjR54pKrzGIVz2q4HWh6PYVSQxsNQ/s1600/IMG_1900.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnu0z_NdVJR75xztUzPdSQ6hj_R2rBjD9Nhet-PD1fTgoJa0z7pa0wLpwGVBIkn3Gxzqbk55A2dDQUF8qD8FAomUPFs7jsrjQSDkQybVC8-XQ8Zo3YjR54pKrzGIVz2q4HWh6PYVSQxsNQ/s320/IMG_1900.JPG" width="291" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You love singing and anything having to do with music. We
get a kick out of you singing along at bedtime now and the repertoire of songs
you know is growing daily. Now that Daddy has his keyboard set up, you
constantly try to play the “pinano” with him (or by yourself).</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmURToj2FAdOOfQuEVsMnIJpvlCZXBEP1O1QdXbPg2_3ddgM1IYGugGFegMJ3WSM12xLXB8A7Yis7G83McKzEFMo4AcK8sovDMClhA2-MYnzhRYhejzVozZZ7a2qd0jqA2A_uBd5Vj76-n/s1600/IMG_2046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmURToj2FAdOOfQuEVsMnIJpvlCZXBEP1O1QdXbPg2_3ddgM1IYGugGFegMJ3WSM12xLXB8A7Yis7G83McKzEFMo4AcK8sovDMClhA2-MYnzhRYhejzVozZZ7a2qd0jqA2A_uBd5Vj76-n/s320/IMG_2046.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You love to read. I am amazed at how fast you learn your
books and it’s been fun to have you participate in the reading. We’ve consented
to letting you have a book in bed with you when you go to sleep, and it’s the
book that usually wins over the animals for cuddling when you finally conk out.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAcp1lMSbwZtkNMRKsooq8L4Z591IrD1UW8jI7VTVgsMT4HXw4d1-QgI2Jh6Tn8Du0cioICYL5Jbt9OJHVD7oyLpc0JgmpP7Ln6Or559KVrB0z6sQYyrtaUQfb7y5d0amlHoFt5KOPcxvp/s1600/Photo+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAcp1lMSbwZtkNMRKsooq8L4Z591IrD1UW8jI7VTVgsMT4HXw4d1-QgI2Jh6Tn8Du0cioICYL5Jbt9OJHVD7oyLpc0JgmpP7Ln6Or559KVrB0z6sQYyrtaUQfb7y5d0amlHoFt5KOPcxvp/s320/Photo+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You’re a bit of an adrenaline junky. You build obstacles for
yourself and your toys to climb over, and you’ve discovered about 15 different
ways to get down your slide.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhszCLgx0oy4-C9Msx3V_8rhKwfKB6LWPmBYfMo3t1OM9ySvLTX2krp-N-7Fip4v-tSnlmaZeOgz0hWeqk40mUeL7qEq9XCHa2UI8ApmpliwW3IwCBCiD08J9IW7e5yuz34eV-4wAuoKU_f/s1600/Photo+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhszCLgx0oy4-C9Msx3V_8rhKwfKB6LWPmBYfMo3t1OM9ySvLTX2krp-N-7Fip4v-tSnlmaZeOgz0hWeqk40mUeL7qEq9XCHa2UI8ApmpliwW3IwCBCiD08J9IW7e5yuz34eV-4wAuoKU_f/s320/Photo+1.jpg" width="220" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Almost every day, you successfully convince your
daddy to give you plenty of “weeee,” which can mean anything from spinning you
around in a laundry basket, to throwing you up high in the air, to helping you
do somersaults. We’re both cherishing these days before you get too big for
this. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwoTzFblJFUzcoTwKrZ5-rxwF96Z_cnuN6_42FcAXzAbf6bb3WnNN1nuwyL3GRXw2GhyuyMtIObHq856-3PXT9Gq_qSQgGssrdR25zos8LRjlXwtxowbJzbfobxnuwMkBJ0l4dXooYQ6su/s1600/Photo+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwoTzFblJFUzcoTwKrZ5-rxwF96Z_cnuN6_42FcAXzAbf6bb3WnNN1nuwyL3GRXw2GhyuyMtIObHq856-3PXT9Gq_qSQgGssrdR25zos8LRjlXwtxowbJzbfobxnuwMkBJ0l4dXooYQ6su/s320/Photo+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh, but you are a big girl now. We still have you
rear-facing in the car, since you’re only 25 pounds, and you still sleep in
your crib (though you are getting close to climbing out). But we’ve said
goodbye to diapers (except for sleeping) and you always remind me, “no pee pee
in panties!” when you’re getting dressed.
I am SO proud of you for learning how to use the big potty and for
telling us when you need to go. I figured if you could learn to play games on
my iPhone in less than 30 seconds, you could be potty trained, and I was right!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Right now you’re learning what “my” and “mine” mean and what
they don’t mean. Play dates can get a little tense when you insist that your
friends’ toys are yours, or when you’re not ready to share toys that actually
are yours. Wise friends have reminded me that we all went through this phase,
and some grownups are still in it, so I have hope you’ll learn that sharing and
giving is more fun than keeping something to yourself. I can’t say that I mind
too much, though, when you refer to us as “MY mommy” and “MY daddy!”</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigOFYvICUWGurZQIGe0Yxem9B71Vwf__23uPcRhWgd8qMHRUcPwx3bbmh5VBrCiHOvjFdUr0bjCgfQ8q2IdqKpNx42GfXfj4MWCPs5iwrQ5jAk3KNb9cbVHMaK0UY-enqWfhpVX7hQXebF/s1600/IMG_1993.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigOFYvICUWGurZQIGe0Yxem9B71Vwf__23uPcRhWgd8qMHRUcPwx3bbmh5VBrCiHOvjFdUr0bjCgfQ8q2IdqKpNx42GfXfj4MWCPs5iwrQ5jAk3KNb9cbVHMaK0UY-enqWfhpVX7hQXebF/s400/IMG_1993.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t know if there’s a technical term for being mentally
organized, but I think you might be that. You process information very well in
lists. I often hear you reciting lists, such as the activities available at the
playground, the friends you played with in various settings, the elements of a
good birthday party, or the rules about spitting. This translates to physical
organization too, as you are my big helper with putting toys away in the
correct box. You keep this up and I’m going to put you in charge of my closet!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I can’t capture everything about you in words, and even if I
could I probably wouldn’t want to take the time away from being with you to
record it all. Realistically, I probably won’t be blogging about you for the
rest of your childhood. You’ll have to share some of the spotlight with future
brothers and sisters and maybe someday you’ll even have a blog of your own. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw4sfYEDrmDDbuZU-5Iy2JloRSkoYWWAjWkTQ5ZO7UllrMFVKNqXYrZuscToLPL_Y-wYW1Fx2UlBmR6u7vtdQmNyiWzyTZrPJ7skPGQZQO9qgCgjrXXG5KRNDXwpepIx9XNIScl0o0zzNP/s1600/IMG_2040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw4sfYEDrmDDbuZU-5Iy2JloRSkoYWWAjWkTQ5ZO7UllrMFVKNqXYrZuscToLPL_Y-wYW1Fx2UlBmR6u7vtdQmNyiWzyTZrPJ7skPGQZQO9qgCgjrXXG5KRNDXwpepIx9XNIScl0o0zzNP/s320/IMG_2040.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For now, though, I still find myself watching you in awe and
gratitude. <i>You</i> are <b>mine</b>. Don’t you ever doubt or forget that!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Anna Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06623013797835397745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8837629442340309570.post-32976250293587347662012-12-24T15:09:00.000-05:002012-12-24T15:09:48.961-05:00The King in the CaveThe year I was pregnant, I read a beautiful poem by Madeleine L'Engle (<a href="http://annasjoyblog.blogspot.com/2010/12/well-poop.html">here</a>, scroll down to the bottom) at Advent service my church holds for the women of the community. The service was so beautiful and meaningful, that I dreamed of presenting an original piece at it. A few weeks ago, I was asked to write a poem for this year's service. We've been studying David in our various women's Bible studies, so the theme of the Advent service was looking at Jesus through the line of David.<br />
<br />
Here's what I wrote:<br />
<br />
The King in the Cave<br />
by Anna Carpenter<br />
<br />
<br />
Can you imagine a boy<br />
who knew less what it meant to be king<br />
Than the ruddy shepherd David?<br />
<br />
He knew flocks and fields for sure<br />
He could fling a stone with the best of them<br />
Lions and bears, no problem. <br />
<br />
But ruling a nation?<br />
Out of all his brothers,<br />
Prophet Samuel poured the oil on him!<br />
<br />
God chose him!<br />
The least likely, dirtiest,<br />
manure-freshest one of the bunch.<br />
<br />
Israel had crowned only one other king.<br />
So what could David<br />
Possibly imagine was in his future?<br />
<br />
He probably did not guess giants.<br />
Or being the royal harp-boy.<br />
Or spending years hiding in caves.<br />
<br />
Were these hard, dark places<br />
Filled with the lost, last and least<br />
Really where God wanted him to be?<br />
<br />
What of that promise and early successes?<br />
What of princes? And princesses!?<br />
Was this what it meant to be king?<br />
<br />
What heartache and anger<br />
We know that he felt<br />
As he poured out his words on the page.<br />
<br />
“The LORD is my rock<br />
And my fortress<br />
And my deliverer!<br />
<br />
My God, my strength,<br />
in whom I will trust<br />
My stronghold.”<br />
<br />
That hope kept paving<br />
His humble path to the throne<br />
A long journey he never expected.=<br />
<br />
From the cave he emerged<br />
To be king at last<br />
With a heart after God’s very own.<br />
<br />
The first in a forever line<br />
Of covenant kings<br />
Started out in a shepherd’s robe.<br />
<br />
Is it any wonder, then, that shepherds<br />
Were the first to hear the news?<br />
An angelic announcement of the royal birth!<br />
<br />
“You there, with your staffs and sandals<br />
You dirty, manure-fresh bunch<br />
Come! See a king born today in a cave!”<br />
<br />
God Himself, King of the World<br />
Stripped out of Majesty’s claims<br />
Wrapped once in flesh then swaddled in rags.<br />
<br />
A cradle of stone and pillow of straw<br />
Attended by animals<br />
sharing their stalls.<br />
<br />
Jesus, the long-awaited son of David<br />
Born to wear the crown<br />
Found the least-likely way to achieve it.<br />
<br />
He fulfilled every prophecy about him<br />
While turning every expectation<br />
Absolutely upside down.<br />
<br />
He wandered in deserts<br />
Pardoned thieves<br />
Dined with the last, lost and least<br />
<br />
He was challenged and threatened<br />
Denied and betrayed<br />
And finally brutally murdered<br />
<br />
The throngs of angels<br />
Heralding his birth in song<br />
Were held silent at his death<br />
<br />
Once again God made flesh<br />
Humbled himself<br />
To be wrapped up and laid in a cave.<br />
<br />
Where are you now,<br />
O child of the King?<br />
You there, with your pains and sorrows.<br />
<br />
Is your promise elusive,<br />
Your path full of stones,<br />
Your dream lost in the darkness?<br />
<br />
Is your journey much longer<br />
Than you could’ve imagined<br />
Your foes in constant pursuit?<br />
<br />
If you think that the cavernous<br />
Place where you’re stuck is too<br />
Far for the light to break through,<br />
<br />
Don’t you dare give up hope,<br />
As you cry to the sky<br />
The story’s not over yet.<br />
<br />
My friend can’t you see<br />
The miracle here,<br />
The heart that God’s building in you?<br />
<br />
You may be waiting<br />
But He hasn’t stopped<br />
No, nothing about Him has changed.<br />
<br />
The King of the Universe<br />
still loves to do<br />
Some of His best work in caves!<br />
<br />
(Feel free to share this, just kindly link back to this blog. Thanks!)<br />
Anna Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06623013797835397745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8837629442340309570.post-91413965398545995332012-11-16T22:04:00.001-05:002012-11-16T22:05:58.143-05:00Boxes are fun toys <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigZjOjbL9JJzO0PvpLXQxiszSaeoHgBlTOlU4A3p0JKoY8qvaTShweij3IHTN7eZXpY7vVQ1YtOYaD5-McSx202K3WHP7LYfMP87Ay0NY2agfoi8qifg6DcZisBxsGqSQ86eEzB12UdJxK/s1600/Image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigZjOjbL9JJzO0PvpLXQxiszSaeoHgBlTOlU4A3p0JKoY8qvaTShweij3IHTN7eZXpY7vVQ1YtOYaD5-McSx202K3WHP7LYfMP87Ay0NY2agfoi8qifg6DcZisBxsGqSQ86eEzB12UdJxK/s320/Image.jpg" width="294" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Relevant picture of cute child</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
When I posted my status on Facebook today about packing, I went back and read the post I wrote about having our house on the market and I realized I'm long overdue for an update.<br />
<br />
<i>(short version)</i><br />
We're under contract! Hooray! Praise God!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<i>(long version)</i><br />
We (and by we, I mean mostly me) were getting show weary and after 6 weeks on the market with no offers, talked to our realtor about taking it off. She encouraged us to wait until after the election, since people were waiting on big decisions until then and we agreed. That was a Monday.<br />
<br />
That Monday was the day after we got home from a wonderful vacation with my parents. It took us a few days to unpack and put things away, but in those few days people kept showing up to look at the house. Now, to back up a few weeks, I had spent several very stressful and long-hour days early in September getting the house "staged" to show. And if you wondered, it is not like the shows where the stagers come and send the owners off and they come back to a delightfully lovely show-ready house. Ha!<br />
<br />
If I thought it was hard to stage the house, it was even harder to live in a staged house, being ready at the drop of a hat to have someone come through it. That's why I was show-weary. And that's why I was taking my time unpacking from vacation, because with no appointments to see the house, I was enjoying just getting to live in it and let Ayla play with all her stuff.<br />
<br />
So, Sunday we get home, Monday we decided to stay on the market a bit longer, Thursday a couple shows up to see the house without having called me first. Our place was a mess! Probably not hoarder style mess, but definitely not show ready. I let them come in and see it since they had gone to all the trouble to come, I just apologized profusely for the mess and asked them to please come see it during the open house that weekend when it would be beautiful. They were very kind about it and mentioned that they didn't mind getting to see what it would look like when they lived there.<br />
<br />
The following Monday they came to see it again, with an appointment, and the next day they put in an offer! Full asking price with no seller subsidy. This was such an answer to prayer. The week before we put our house on the market, two other houses in our neighborhood went on. Since we're in a townhouse community, all the houses are virtually identical. Ours has a few more upgrades than the others that are (still) for sale, but I think the main difference was the mess. Had to be!<br />
<br />
That was about three weeks ago and we close in another three weeks and have passed all the hurdles between offer and closing so far. The home inspection and appraisal came back with expected results and the couple seems really excited to move in and start making this their home.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, we've been looking for a place for us to live between now and next summer. Of course God answered this prayer, too, and provided us with a beautiful rental house in our price range right in the neighborhood we wanted with a landlord who was willing to do a short-term lease. We're moving in over there this weekend, though we can take our time before having to be out of here.<br />
<br />
We are still looking for a new family for Mocha. The Virginia family I mentioned before turned out to have dog allergies, which may have been important information to know before they started looking for a dog, but at least they found out before adopting her!<br />
<br />
She's got a new best friend, though, who would spend every waking moment with her if we'd let her!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVgVt_yrH7uJ_hUtDBEqfLUZmThgdPSrpE760OYjJLUqPWqg9kIqwh4wRR_r68lQopC3ghT3S5fAEJ8fkUXqvQaPVlcKB5r6NYuXYJQjm5MWkkYuECVE5BeJehODFAZqhg5LUA-qC4cz4d/s1600/Image+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVgVt_yrH7uJ_hUtDBEqfLUZmThgdPSrpE760OYjJLUqPWqg9kIqwh4wRR_r68lQopC3ghT3S5fAEJ8fkUXqvQaPVlcKB5r6NYuXYJQjm5MWkkYuECVE5BeJehODFAZqhg5LUA-qC4cz4d/s320/Image+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cute child with new best friend</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And in completely unrelated moving news, Ayla's hair is long enough for this now.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div>
<br />
<br /></div>
Anna Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06623013797835397745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8837629442340309570.post-79158540131021835822012-10-25T15:56:00.000-04:002012-10-25T20:37:27.726-04:00A letter to me (now) from me (now)<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hey you/me,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nice hair (<i>ha ha, inside joke</i>).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I just wanted to let you know that it’s ok. It’s ok that you
aren’t pregnant this month and it’s ok that you really wanted to be and it’s ok
to be <span style="font-size: x-small;">(a little)</span> sad about it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s ok that most of your friends who were pregnant with you
the first time are pregnant again or already have had their next round of
babies. I promise you, the next time you are pregnant, someone else in the
world will be pregnant at the same time.
It’s even likely that you will know one or more of them.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And if you never get pregnant again?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That will be ok, too. Remember how hard it was to lay down your
desire to give birth to a baby? To leave it in the trustworthy hands of
your Abba Father? I know you still wanted it after that, but you knew life
WOULD go on. It was still two more years of wanting after that, but they were
FULL, weren’t they?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Your life is full now. You have a kind, brilliant and strong
husband and a darling, thriving daughter.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKxCjIeIIFZLwUscCtV-WYHtluXZxMnECS7Hyzwk6weiJAhyphenhyphenAkQW-e7A4fdMOkQE8kzR-e3aqlpkjWcpQMQ5e5uka9wiwNL_0xp-475LifLThTkiUmifuUVwWZGRSdEhWGYrE9cC8oBtHX/s1600/photo-3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKxCjIeIIFZLwUscCtV-WYHtluXZxMnECS7Hyzwk6weiJAhyphenhyphenAkQW-e7A4fdMOkQE8kzR-e3aqlpkjWcpQMQ5e5uka9wiwNL_0xp-475LifLThTkiUmifuUVwWZGRSdEhWGYrE9cC8oBtHX/s320/photo-3.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
You have friends out the wazoo, and
make more daily it seems. I could go on and on about the free country you live
in, the amazing technology you have access to, everything that is just right
here at your fingertips.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But those aren’t the things that make you full, and you know
that. Christ alone fills. He came, lived, died, rose, filled. It would have
been enough, as you say at Pesach.
He is enough. Don’t forget it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Don’t forget about your other friends, either. The ones who
will forever carry in their hearts the babies they will never hold in their
arms. The ones who are still waiting for even just a positive pregnancy test.
Even just that would be a miracle for some of those girls you love so
dearly. Don’t forget about those parents
who are waiting simply for words on paper so they can kiss the soft heads of
children who have been waiting just as long for them.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you keep thinking about others like this, you may even
remember your friends who are single, who would love to even get to the “WE are
trying,” phase. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You may even get the idea that everyone you come into
contact with is waiting on, wanting something. You may have compassion or
understanding for them. In fact, you only have one child to hold, so that gives
you a free arm to throw around someone else’s shoulder and say, “Me too!” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh, it’s ok that you want another baby to hold in that arm,
but there’s no reason for it to be empty for now. Ok?</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Anna Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06623013797835397745noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8837629442340309570.post-69715324025668749442012-09-27T09:18:00.001-04:002012-09-27T09:19:26.731-04:00Big, Not-Pregnant, NewsWhen I blogged my pregnancy news, I snuck it in the comments of a <a href="http://annasjoyblog.blogspot.com/2010/07/good-things-are-coming.html">post</a> about a Walmart being constructed across the street <span style="font-size: xx-small;">(It didn't turn out to be of the Neighborhood variety after all)</span>. When my husband was deploying overseas for a year, I came up with a cute<a href="http://annasjoyblog.blogspot.com/2010/12/mochas-big-move.html"> story</a> about our dog, Mocha, taking a big trip <span style="font-size: xx-small;">(She didn't end up going with John, but has gone to live with her cousin in Texas)</span>.<br />
<br />
Well, the news I have to share now is probably equally as big, but I'm just going to straight up tell you.<br />
<br />
Next summer, we're moving to "EssAy" for two years.<br />
<br />
I know, I said I was going to just tell you, but we do need a little bit of a code. I'm careful with what gets posted here so we don't end up in some crazy search results. However, you are smart enough to get this one easily.<br />
<br />
Just imagine the word above is sounding out the initials for a big, oil-rich country where women can't drive and I won't have to worry about pork being in any of our food, and you've got it!<br />
<br />
So far away and so hot, you're thinking. Yes.<br />
<br />
We're excited though. We've talked about living overseas, especially in that region, since before we were married. Though we've both been deployed and traveled extensively, this will be our first time actually living together abroad. We'll find out for sure if this is the life for us.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglOLLfXBvx-O-n6PtgDY5-34VrlFdtE109ecJl7oeFGzC2iu23sLFAjnLCKUSOfVV1aMwAhf74PzWx8NIRDcqq44-JKVH54yYfT67JkoXHgIpCyKVCMZvI_KyDIYrE9F_jK3s-pO6ueBe2/s1600/IMG_9760.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="164" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglOLLfXBvx-O-n6PtgDY5-34VrlFdtE109ecJl7oeFGzC2iu23sLFAjnLCKUSOfVV1aMwAhf74PzWx8NIRDcqq44-JKVH54yYfT67JkoXHgIpCyKVCMZvI_KyDIYrE9F_jK3s-pO6ueBe2/s320/IMG_9760.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From our visit to Turkey this summer. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I don't know many of the details of us going yet, and I'm trying not to think about the leaving part right now. I'm sure you'll be hearing about it plenty, though!<br />
<br />
I do have two big prayer requests regarding the move, if you are into the praying sort of thing.<br />
<br />
First, we are trying to find a new home for Mocha. She is such a wonderful pet and we'd love to keep her, but where we're going is not very dog friendly, especially the kind of dog who needs space to run around outside. I've pleaded and bugged everyone on Facebook and we've placed Craigslist ads. Right now there is one family here in Virginia who is interested, but we have to get her here from Texas (where she's been since last February!) first, meet them and be in mutual agreement. Please pray we find her a good home and that she adjusts to them well.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipgkQhGohOX1JV17ZJMNlkME8ihcSAp0OulY8Zjfk4gE_bLfand8QCF4oaItS1lAGt6oZ43IXwNIgYdYDk7QjOtf132bEnh3qzwAklt3ergPpdcWIZ27D9HgiV9tSs9mWvdiy7ORRyFQEq/s1600/IMG_0266.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipgkQhGohOX1JV17ZJMNlkME8ihcSAp0OulY8Zjfk4gE_bLfand8QCF4oaItS1lAGt6oZ43IXwNIgYdYDk7QjOtf132bEnh3qzwAklt3ergPpdcWIZ27D9HgiV9tSs9mWvdiy7ORRyFQEq/s320/IMG_0266.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Second, we have our house on the market. This could be a post unto itself and probably will be, but if you've ever sold your home, you know what we're facing. Even though we're not moving overseas until next year, we thought we'd try to take advantage of the slight rise in the housing market our area is having. It's been about a month and we've had no offers yet, but we're going to wait a few more weeks. If we don't sell now, we'll try again in the spring. We just thought it would be nice to sell with no real time crunch. Obviously if we don't sell in the spring, renting is an option, just not our preferred one right now. Please pray we stay in perfect peace throughout this process and keep our eyes on our true Source<br />
<br />
Thanks, friends! I'll be sure to report when we see movement on either of these. By the way, thank you for reading after all these months of sabbatical (yeah, I'm gonna call it that).<br />
<br />
How are <b>you</b> doing?Anna Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06623013797835397745noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8837629442340309570.post-9651977193231556902012-07-13T17:03:00.000-04:002012-07-13T17:03:32.791-04:00A little video to illustrate my last blog<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Having a ball dancing</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxQbqZYkFtxfLs737ExTf2iz3fMgjM-Zz_0tWXp5eYBZy-BXd15SO1VdGF2cmIuNEc8HQ3NbbcibfmwJcQ2CA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
(no endorsement of lyrics implied!)<br />
<br />
(Also, you may need to come to my actual blog to watch, may not work in reader or email.)Anna Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06623013797835397745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8837629442340309570.post-68112511863848688262012-07-13T00:00:00.000-04:002012-07-13T00:00:23.610-04:00Eighteen MonthsDear Ayla,<br />
Eighteen months ago, around this time (late at night), I got to meet you for the first time. I was just so excited that you were here, that you were <b>you</b> (a girl I got to name Ayla) and that you were mine, really with no idea what my life would be like with you in it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Fv_elkd4Iz0/TUBrvamDZ-I/AAAAAAAABU4/RKpX1KDmDNI/s1600/IMG_1559.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Fv_elkd4Iz0/TUBrvamDZ-I/AAAAAAAABU4/RKpX1KDmDNI/s320/IMG_1559.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
It's been a hard year, baby girl, not gonna lie to you (ever), but you kept me going and made it all kinds of wonderful. Now your daddy is home from his deployment and we're learning how to be a family. You are discovering how much fun Daddy is and remembering that his strong arms are the best place to be (whether cuddling or swinging or tickling or dancing).<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3PcskR7NC-lsCAtxk1qOKcw6oVx8XjZL790J9N1cKt60G2v0NrT3dmu-2xPx21edcMK8qByO-blweED8oLYPgsfE44WE-3xdFVyy7vcC1oy8RvyghI-icODqhmj_lTZScq-9ZSthgf9xO/s1600/IMG_9855.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3PcskR7NC-lsCAtxk1qOKcw6oVx8XjZL790J9N1cKt60G2v0NrT3dmu-2xPx21edcMK8qByO-blweED8oLYPgsfE44WE-3xdFVyy7vcC1oy8RvyghI-icODqhmj_lTZScq-9ZSthgf9xO/s320/IMG_9855.jpg" width="177" /></a></div><br />
Even though I've been with you every day of your life, I still look at you and marvel. I love seeing you in a new light as Daddy gets to know you all over again.<br />
<br />
You started walking about 4 months ago and now you're so good at it, you aren't content to just walk anymore. You're practicing new styles of walking, such as with a swagger, on your toes, with a little knee bend added in or just running. You're also becoming quite the dancer. I love to watch you stop whatever you doing to do a little boogie when you hear music. It actually doesn't even require music, if you hear pounding, buzzing or the beat in your heart, your feet start a jig.<br />
<br />
One of your favorite things to do is slide. You call it "outside," even though you understand that outside is also "outside." You turn anything with the slightest angle into a slide. The back of the couch? Easy. The side of the tub? Yup (not that I let you do this, but you still try). A pillow on the floor? The slight incline between the driveway and parking lot? My bent legs? Angle + you = slide.<br />
<br />
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You are great at playing games. I think we make up 50 new ones a day, but your favorite is to pretend to go "nigh-night." You're not really picky about the surface, sometimes there's a pillow involved, sometimes it's just the floor of the Women's Memorial at Arlington National Cemetery. You lay down on your back, say "nigh-night," then go, "shhh, shhh." It's pretty cute, but your comfort with dirty floors may not reflect well on my parenting style.<br />
<br />
As for actual sleep, that's still a moving target, with emphasis on the moving rather than the still. I wish I could record our view on the baby monitor to show you someday how much you move around while you sleep. You dropped your morning nap a few months ago and your afternoon nap is anywhere from 1-3 hours. Or no hours, like today. You do sleep a good 11-12 hours at night and for that you are greatly loved. You're a big fan of getting sung to before bed and now that you've learned to say and sign "again," you get lots and lots of songs. Your dad and I both love that you say "Amen," after we pray. I can't wait to hear what you pray about when you start to say your own.<br />
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And, girl, you are saying so much! I counted today and you're at 102 words, and that's not including all the words you sign or body parts you know or animal sounds you can make. You don't really babble, instead you just pick a few words and say them over and over. I can even consider you bi-lingual, since you insist on calling "water" "agua," even to the point of correcting me. You've put two words together a few times, such as "No Mommy," or "Bye-bye Daddy," but no real sentences yet. One of my favorites is how whenever you hear us say "now," you say, "Now-I-Know," (from the ABC song) as if it's one word. Oh, and I also love how when I try to comfort you when you fall, you mimic me repeating as you cry, "I know, I know," as you pat my shoulder.<br />
<br />
I probably take the falling harder than you do. Oh, I know you're tough and maybe like me you're a little clumsy, but I just hate to see all the bruises and scratches marring your beautiful baby skin. You're so bold and adventurous, like your daddy. Other parents comment about this when they see you on the playground or in the soft play room. Usually that's right before you tumble off a step or climb right over their child on your way to go down yet another slide. I hope we can add some thoughtfulness to that courage soon. You'll really be unstoppable then!<br />
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Like most kids your age, you love climbing on anything, opening and closing doors, putting lids on and taking them off, stacking things and then knocking them down. You love balls, bubbles and balloons. You're learning about sharing your toys with your friends, although right now sharing to you means, "give that back to me."<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Sharing" with your birthday buddy, <a href="http://www.thescribblepadblog.com/2012/07/eighteen-months.html">Behr</a>. </td></tr>
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You do throw your fair share of tantrums, but you snap out of them pretty quickly. We haven't started time outs with you yet because usually a simple, "No!" or smack on the hand gets your attention. I'm not really looking forward to the discipline phase, but I know it's one of the most important aspects of my job, so we'll get through it.<br />
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Every day I thank God for you, and today I thank Him for eighteen months of awesome joy with you.<br />
You are my jewel, today and always!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9B0Qq_Tlr15YSOLo30PCR9cfx2DZAaQdbyrk_GWQWuL5gVGg6yH4Z9s-JePPZln92B43uDmh4tkut7FpOEuNMSfDA0N6RITXyl8BAEEkBVYTBK3HDLCdvnorry9P1y1a1zcd2AS_ng000/s1600/IMG_9871.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9B0Qq_Tlr15YSOLo30PCR9cfx2DZAaQdbyrk_GWQWuL5gVGg6yH4Z9s-JePPZln92B43uDmh4tkut7FpOEuNMSfDA0N6RITXyl8BAEEkBVYTBK3HDLCdvnorry9P1y1a1zcd2AS_ng000/s320/IMG_9871.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Anna Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06623013797835397745noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8837629442340309570.post-5520126801789274252012-06-30T23:30:00.000-04:002012-06-30T23:30:15.929-04:00Thoughts near the finish lineHello, my name is Anna. It's been 120 days since my last blog.<br />
<br />
Wow. That's a long time. It's as long as Air Force deployments used to be. At least I blogged while I was deployed (back in the MySpace blog days). While I could spend this whole post giving excuses and explaining why it's been so long and what I've been up to, I won't. Not now anyway.<br />
<br />
I'm writing now because my year "alone" is almost over and that seems to call for a blog post. I've been doing quite a bit of reflection on the past year, trying to sift through all the excitement of anticipating John's homecoming and just everyday busyness of raising a toddler, to find nuggets of what I learned or how I changed or the meaning in it all.<br />
<br />
I imagine I'll be sorting a lot of that out in the next few weeks, and hope to write about it here. I will tell you a few of the things I'm aware will be different once John gets home. While it's been hard in so many ways to have lived separately for the past year, we have done as most humans do and found coping mechanisms to help us through it and most of those will be irrelevant once we're together, so we'll have to unlearn them. For me, I'm thinking about:<br />
<br />
* Where I focus my time and energy<br />
I've had the luxury (?) of being able to devote almost all my time and energy to Ayla. I hear that most new moms do this anyway, but I haven't had to feel torn about it since John hasn't been here to remind me that he needs me, too. On our last vacation together (Turkey. 3 weeks in May. It was awesome. Yeah, I'm really behind here.), it was very obvious who gets most of me. It was very hard for me to remember a time when I wasn't thinking about her schedule, what she needed to eat, how much sleep she had, where potentially dangerous objects were, what sounds what animals make, more sounds more animals make, how dirty the floor was that thing had fallen on before being in her mouth, and so on. Oh, husband, what?<br />
<br />
* How I take care of our home<br />
John is not a husband who judges or complains when the house isn't spic and span, and he certainly does a fair share of the housework. That said, I'm kind of in charge of stuff getting done here, since I am here more, and I have given myself a lot of grace this past year. For his part, he's had a house guy taking care of his laundry, cleaning, and cooking. We both know I'm not<i> that guy</i>, but we'll just have to figure out what this all looks like, at least until Ayla can start pulling her own weight!<br />
<br />
* How I take care of myself<br />
Yes, I know John will love me no matter what my hair looks like or how late in the day I wear my pajamas. However, what he is attracted to and what Ayla is attracted to are very different things, so I just need to consider that.<br />
<br />
Really, these are issues all, if not most, couples and parents work through. This is the work of marriage, which has looked different for us over the past year.<br />
<br />
So, yes. I am excited about him coming home, about him discovering the wonder that is being with our daughter every day, and reconnecting with my best friend. I'm excited about having his help, his insight and his presence. I'm excited about the season stretching out in front of us that has no looming departures or separations from each other. Remember, we knew he was leaving for most of my pregnancy, so everything since then has been tinged with his impending or actual absence.<br />
<br />
But I'm also so aware of how intentional we will need to be to do the needed repairs and maintenance to our marriage for it to continue being the healthy, safe place it is. I know we're both selfish, sinful people who need tons of grace as we settle back into an "us."<br />
<br />
I'm more and more convinced every day that healthy marriages that last don't happen accidentally. I'm blessed beyond belief that I'm married to a man I love and am excited to be with, who loves me and is willing and ready to do this work together.<br />
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Now, I just need him to step off that plane and into my arms!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We're almost there, people, almost there!</td></tr>
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<br />Anna Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06623013797835397745noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8837629442340309570.post-10876153860083922592012-03-02T21:11:00.000-05:002012-03-02T21:11:31.182-05:00Weaned!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Hmm... a blog about weaning. Exciting reading for a Friday night.<br />
<br />
My goal was to nurse Ayla for a year and wean her around her first birthday. I'm so grateful to say that we made it! I know that breastfeeding isn't easy or possible for all moms, and even though it clicked right away for us, I never took for granted that we were able to do it for as long as we did.<br />
<br />
In deciding to wean at a year, here are some of the things I was worried about or concerned with:<br />
<br />
1) I didn't start her on dairy until her first birthday. I know a lot of people start their kids on yogurt and cheese earlier, and I probably should've, I just waited until one for a lot of things. So, I was concerned with how I was going to keep her hydrated during the transition from breast milk to cow's or another type of milk. Then, when I did give her cow's milk (fresh, raw, organic, delicious stuff!), she would have nothing to do with it.<br />
<br />
2) She stopped drinking from a bottle at some point around 8 months. She never had confusion with a pacifier or bottle early on, but by that point she hadn't had a bottle in so long, and had already discovered the fun of straws, that she just wouldn't take a bottle. However, she didn't drink much of anything (pumped breast milk, diluted juice or water) from anything else. I tried several different sippy cups, and she would just drink one or two sips.<br />
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3) I'd read about different ways to wean, and had decided to save the bedtime feeding for last. The problem I anticipated was transitioning away from that when I didn't have her dad here to introduce her to a new routine at night that didn't involve nursing. The last several weeks, when we were down to just that once, she was clearly and quite frantically requesting it, which she had never done before.<br />
<br />
4) One thing I loved about nursing was the confidence I had in knowing my baby was getting exactly what she needed from me, especially when she was sick or teething or just being picky and not eating much else. I wasn't as confident in anything else being able to supply that for her after we were done.<br />
<br />
Compounding all these concerns was learning that she only gained three ounces from her 9-month-checkup to her one-year, which isn't unusual as babies get more active. It's just not something a mother likes to hear. When we went back to the doctor for a follow-up visit a month later, Ayla had <i>lost</i> weight! Really not what I was expecting! The doctor suggested I stop giving her water, which was all she would drink at that point, and give her something like formula, with more calories. Several of my friends suggested using coconut milk, and after a few days, she chugged the stuff down!<br />
<br />
I was also experiencing the emotional toll of the hormone shift from the decrease in nursing, was feeling very mushy about her turning one, wondering if her increased fussiness was due to the weaning process or separation anxiety or teething or something else, and didn't want to lose any of the intimate bonding we had built up. As sure as I was about wanting to wean at a year, I was unsure about how it was going to work.<br />
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<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>(Are you completely bored yet? Sorry. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>I don't know why I'm writing about this. Maybe because it seems like a big milestone?)</i></div>
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I planned to use John's visit home in February to eliminate the bedtime feeding, by pumping and having him put her to bed, and slowly transition from breast milk to coconut milk. However, she didn't acclimate to being alone with him for the first few days, then we went on a trip, then we had people over every night, then we went on another trip, so I just kept nursing her.<br />
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At some point shortly before he came home, that nursing session had become pretty unpleasant, though. She would fall asleep, which would've been great except she would wake up screaming and frantic when I pulled her off to switch sides. She'd never done that before. Also, she usually played with my ears or nose while nursing, but she began to really yank and scratch and be quite violent for a one-year-old, then lose it when I'd put her down. It was very frustrating for both of us, so I knew it was time to be done.<br />
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<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>(Don't worry, I'm almost done with this post, too!)</i></div>
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It ended up happening almost accidentally. The day after we got home from Costa Rica we got a babysitter so we could go on a date. (Didn't I mention we went on vacation to Costa Rica? Oops, more on that to come, then!) I figured we'd be back early enough that if Ayla hadn't gone to sleep yet, I could still nurse her. But she had gone down just fine. The next night when I put her down without nursing, she didn't even mention it. And that was that.<br />
<br />
That was almost two weeks ago. Since then, my big, happy girl also started drinking (fresh, raw, organic, delicious) cow's milk, mostly because I ran out of coconut milk and she didn't even notice the switch.<br />
<br />
I'm also thankful that I didn't have any engorgement issues when we stopped. It even makes me wonder if she was getting so frustrated towards the end because she wasn't getting much, if anything.<br />
<br />
I really should take a lesson from myself here. So far, every thing I've been worried about in parenting hasn't been that bad when I actually get to it. I certainly learned some things I will do different next time, if given the opportunity, such as:<br />
1) Not worry so much about it. If I'd have known how easy it was going to be, I'd have done it sooner!<br />
2) Schedule in a regular bottle feeding so the baby stays acclimated, then transition to cup at appropriate age.<br />
3) Start the baby on higher-(good)fat foods earlier to make up for the drop in calories from weaning.<br />
4) Not worry so much about it.<br />
<br />
Now, if I could only figure out how to get her to start walking.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>(I'm kidding, I'm kidding! I'm <b>not</b> rushing her on that!)</i></div>
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I almost forgot to add a picture of the source of all this absolutely-worth-it fuss!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See, happy as can be!</td></tr>
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<br />Anna Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06623013797835397745noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8837629442340309570.post-79134414909852143112012-02-29T09:57:00.003-05:002012-02-29T09:57:42.114-05:00Community-- and why I'm glad to be a realist<div style="text-align: center;">
Jean Vanier, founder of the L'Arch communities, has written,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"Almost everyone finds their early days in a community ideal. It all seems perfect. They feel they are surrounded by saints, heroes, or at the least, most exceptional people who are everything they want to be themselves. And then comes the let-down. The greater their idealization of the community at the start, the greater the disenchantment. If people manage to get through this second period, they come to a third phase -- that of realism and of true commitment. They no longer see other members of the community as saints or devils, but as people -- each with a mixture of good and bad, darkness and light, each growing and each with their own hope. The community is neither heaven nor hell, but planted firmly on earth, and they are ready to walk in it, and with it. They accept the community and the other members as they are; they are confident that together they can grow towards something more beautiful."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(Taken from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Common-Prayer-Pocket-Ordinary-Radicals/dp/031033506X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1330527364&sr=8-1">Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals</a>, Feb 29 entry)</div>
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I have found this to be true for me. What about you?</div>Anna Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06623013797835397745noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8837629442340309570.post-41097424816236519992012-02-25T09:40:00.000-05:002012-02-25T09:40:55.458-05:00Crooked Toenails and Relentless LoveMy friend<a href="http://lindseyvanniekerk.blogspot.com/p/who-is-little-missionary-girl.html"> Lindsey</a> asked me to be a guest blogger for her series on <a href="http://lindseyvanniekerk.blogspot.com/2012/02/relentless-love.html">Relentless Love</a>, which is also her <a href="http://lindseyvanniekerk.blogspot.com/2012/01/one-word-2012.html">One Word</a> for 2012.<br />
<br />
Now, usually when one is a guest blogger for someone else, they put a little teaser part of the post on their own blog and link to their guest spot. Before I do that, I have to set the record straight.<br />
<br />
Lindsey always gives me so much credit for something that happened in college, and though I pretty much did change her life, it was only because she had already changed mine. During my senior year I worked in the Spiritual Life Department (for the campus pastor and men's and women's chaplains). We had a few openings for student chaplains and I just happened to know of this amazing girl who lived on my friend's floor. Lindsey was just a freshman, but she had a spiritual depth and maturity that made me a little bit jealous. She didn't just have potential, she was already a leader. It was a no-brainer that she should fill one of the openings and it didn't take much to convince the leadership to agree.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>I would tell you that was 15 years ago, but then I'd just feel really old! </i></div>
<br />
I'm still super impressed with this girl, though now I suppose we have to call ourselves "ladies." I've recommended her blog before, but if you're still not reading it regularly, I suggest you do. I've got a hunch about these things!<br />
<br />
Ok, here's the teaser:<br />
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<div style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: center;">
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">Battle Scars & Crooked Toenails</span></span></b></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;">I </span>have a few really messed up toenails.</b> I brutalized them in years (too far) past by running a couple of marathons, causing them to die and grow back in lumpy and crooked. Even though they look somewhat normal when painted and pedicured, I know what they really look like and that they will probably always be this way.</span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><b>That’s what my heart is sort of like, too.</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">You’d never know it by</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><i>my usually hilariously awesome personality</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">, but I had a broken heart at least one day a month for almost three years.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">You can go read the rest <a href="http://lindseyvanniekerk.blogspot.com/2012/02/battle-scars-crooked-toenails-guest.html">here</a>, and be sure to check out the other posts in the Relentless Love series. Lindsey is still changing lives all over her world!</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><i>PS- You'll see a few pictures from our photo shoot with<a href="https://www.facebook.com/WhiteStarfishPhotography"> Bex White</a> during our vacation to Colorado in November. I'll post more of those just right after I get to all the other vacation pictures from <u>last</u> summer!</i></span></div>Anna Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06623013797835397745noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8837629442340309570.post-83260986288128827302012-02-08T22:53:00.003-05:002012-02-08T22:53:49.701-05:00Ayla's First Birthday PartyMy goal was to get these pictures posted before Ayla's birthday balloon was out of helium and wouldn't you know, today it is about an inch off the floor, so I totally still have time!<br />
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As her birthday approached, I wasn't sure what to do to celebrate. You know I have issues with my own birthday, the short of it is that you should celebrate what my mom did on that day, not me, as I pretty much didn't do anything except show up.<br />
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However, I love celebrating other people's birthday however they like to, so my own daughter's day presented a bit of a dilemma. I don't want to pass my issues on to her. I don't want to deprive her of special moments or others of celebrating her life. Of course, she's too young to tell me how she feels about it (in a language I understand, anyway). She's also too young to remember it, though pictures will tell her the story. I didn't want to do anything too extravagant and couldn't host a "small party" of my own because as I've said, we have too many friends (a good problem, I know), and we wouldn't be near our also not-small family.<br />
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Sometimes the answer to life's questions can be found by looking right in front of you. For me, I realized we had a built-in "small" circle with the mom's group we attend every other week, which was also a pre-established time and place. We also could share the celebration with another mom, whose son, Micah, is four days older than Ayla. So, that's what we did.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I made cupcakes and frosting. That's about as fancy as I get!</td></tr>
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Somehow, I glanced away from the table after setting the cupcakes with burning candles down, and managed to introduce my daughter to fire. (There was only 4 seconds between these pictures!)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I don't mean to brag, but Ayla clearly won the unannounced mess-making contest.</td></tr>
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To honor Micah's Korean heritage, we played the Toljabee. We set out a number of symbolic items for the babies to crawl to, and tradition says that what they choose first says something about who they become or what they do when they grow up. Micah's dad had added a computer mouse to the other options of rice (riches or plenty), a book (scholar), money (riches), a pen (writer), or string (long life).<br />
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Ayla went straight for the mouse! Her second choice was rice, so we're set. I'm sure she'll be running an internet company by the time she's in pre-school. I'll let you know when it goes public.<br />
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<br />Anna Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06623013797835397745noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8837629442340309570.post-36860548864334779612012-01-31T00:14:00.000-05:002012-01-31T00:14:51.880-05:00Six ThingsFile under random:<br />
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I've been a little online shopping click-happy lately, so to prove I don't only blog about Ayla, here are six things delivered this week about which I am very excited.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp1tV4odeApClnsHosQqSNZUvnJXnai99URunPYAGdm3TCGerQZU5jm9zv-SlAYNtj9IHdZU7Omthrd37L0pbzXxZnvL8oFgSrVCyu4Ps6o-I8tqgogy5pXbR6q6Q_10BCUBcxR_oz-OdE/s1600/6things.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp1tV4odeApClnsHosQqSNZUvnJXnai99URunPYAGdm3TCGerQZU5jm9zv-SlAYNtj9IHdZU7Omthrd37L0pbzXxZnvL8oFgSrVCyu4Ps6o-I8tqgogy5pXbR6q6Q_10BCUBcxR_oz-OdE/s400/6things.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1) Ayla's birthday present from her PaPa (John's dad). He sent a check, I picked it out! It's a <a href="http://www.amazon.com/PKolino-Little-Sofa--Sleeper-Green/dp/B002AQIA6S/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1327986359&sr=8-1">P'kolino Little Sofa-Sleeper</a>. Right now she mostly uses it to climb as high as she can and look out the window, but I'm sure many hours of story-time and sleepovers are ahead.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">2) An <a href="http://store.ergobaby.com/Baby_Carriers/Options/BCC001">Ergo carrier</a>! I have used the Baby Bjorn, a few different slings and wraps and ties, but I needed something that was better for her and my back and easy to get in and out of. It was a steal on BabySteals.com.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">3) <a href="http://hyenacart.com/inspiredbyfinn/mt/713/38120/Raw-Amber-Color">Inspired by Finn Baltic amber necklace</a>. I don't know why this brand is the only one I've seen with these necklaces, but my sister swears by them and I think it's really cute! So far, Ayla likes wearing it, but I don't know if it's helping with the teething pain yet. Another great steal from BabySteals.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">4) Much needed replacement lens cover for my camera. I lost the original in California this summer and have been recklessly tossing the Rebel into bags with no protection to take hundreds of pictures I don't edit or upload. Call me a, I don't know, a rebel?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">5) Hand-made honey pot from Etsy. Look, it was just getting messy getting the honey out of the giant jar.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">6) <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Sublime-Imprint-Anti-Fatigue-Nantucket-Cinnamon/dp/B003BYRDK2/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1327986470&sr=8-1">Sublime Imprint Anti-Fatigue comfort mats</a> for my kitchen floor. I finally found the right color, size and comfort combo, and Amazon had them for half price. Winner!</span></span></div><br />
Since it's now officially Tuesday here, I can tell you about something else I'm getting today. Want to guess?<br />
Here's a hint: He once took me for a ride, then gave me a beautiful shiny thing. His name is John and he's my husband.<br />
Got it?<br />
I am a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">little</span> more excited about this delivery than the other ones!<br />
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Have a great rest of your week, my dear readers!Anna Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06623013797835397745noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8837629442340309570.post-5628143195603374232012-01-25T23:06:00.000-05:002012-01-25T23:06:17.832-05:00Every Day Ayla - One Whole Year!For the last two weeks as I've been alternating between procrastination and frustration at getting this video done, I've also been pondering what to tell you about my one-year-old daughter.<br />
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</div><div>I usually tell you what she's doing now, her new tricks and skills. But the days are just whipping by and she keeps changing and I honestly can't keep up. By now I can't remember what she was doing or saying two weeks ago, so I'm just going to do the update as of now.</div><div><br />
</div><div>The word for her current phase is spongexplosion. I had to make up a word since she is soaking everything in and then exhibiting growth in huge bursts.</div><div><br />
</div><div>She has four teeth, all on top. I think the bottom ones are working their way up. At least I hope what all this night-time fussing has been about.</div><div><br />
</div><div>She's not walking independently yet, but she loves to finger walk, push toys around and cruise on the furniture. I think she might be waiting for her daddy to come for his next visit (next week!!) to take her first steps, so we'll see. I'm still in no hurry! She's great at climbing up the stairs and going down backwards.</div><div><br />
</div><div>She likes putting things in and taking them out. She has discovered the magic of putting things behind her to make them disappear. She has also discovered the spatial relationship between her finger and nostril. I'm sure this will also be used to make things "disappear." She hugs everything and makes a sweet "oooh" sound when she does it.<br />
</div><div>She's as friendly as ever, a bit clingier, a whole lot moodier, and quite the little entertainer. I think she's pretty advanced in that she's already throwing herself on the floor in tantrums with big ol' tears and everything. The ramp between happy and not-happy is gone, so I'm trying to learn how to predict and react to the sudden changes. I'm sure much of this has to do with her frustration at not being able to communicate as much as she wants to. </div><div><br />
</div><div>She is selective in what she says and signs, but she understands SO much. She even makes up words and signs when she's in the mood.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Here's what she says, in the order in which I can remember them: daddy, mama, doggy, ball, puff, pul (apple), tatuh (water), hugy/eggy (hungry), ity (kitty), mungy (monkey), Teta (Greta, the girl who lives with us), aaaht (hat), Aaah (Abigail, her best friend), touch, shhh (shoes), caka (cracker).</div><div><br />
</div><div>Here's what she signs: more, finished, please, dog, banana, eat/water (her sign for these looks the same), fish, baby, and milk. She's getting close on frog and cat.</div><div><br />
</div><div>She knows where her/my head, hair, ears, nose, eyes, mouth and bellybutton are. She makes the animal sounds for cows and monkeys, pants for a dog, makes a fishy face for fish, and hops for bunnies and frogs.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I'll do the eating and sleeping update in another post, because this has gotten so long and you've still got to watch the video, which is a whopping 6:24. I couldn't figure out a way to go through the stills any faster, and just wanted to get it out there while she was still a baby. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Enjoy!</div><div><br />
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(link to video on YouTube, let me know if you can't view it)Anna Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06623013797835397745noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8837629442340309570.post-17923303633905485742012-01-10T23:47:00.000-05:002012-01-10T23:47:38.473-05:00Nothing like I'd plannedI had planned to do a whole week of Ayla's-turning-one related posts leading up to a big reveal of her 365 Every Day pictures and a snazzy video and fireworks and pizza for everyone. Ok, maybe not the fireworks.<br />
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(Coincidentally (?) my post from this date last year was also about "plans" and our intentions for letting people know about when the baby "Blueberry" (awww... remember Blueberry?) came.)<br />
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Point being, her birthday is actually the day after tomorrow and this is it.<br />
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Tomorrow is the last day of her first year.<br />
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And since it's 11:33 (awww... the exact time she was born), that's in less than 30 minutes.<br />
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So, here's a little teaser photo from the birthday celebration we had for her today at the moms' group we are blessed to be a part of. My friend's son, Micah, turned 1 on Sunday, so we brought snacks and balloons and let the kiddos go at it.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Ok, just one more...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I have a feeling this is the start of a long<br />
and beautiful relationship with chocolate!</td></tr>
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span id="goog_1153957435"></span><span id="goog_1153957436"></span></div>Anna Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06623013797835397745noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8837629442340309570.post-5419065282744435452012-01-06T12:15:00.000-05:002012-01-06T12:15:19.735-05:00Ayla is going to be a big sisterSomeday. <b>I'm not pregnant.</b> I promise.<br />
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Even as my heart tightens around every little baby thing my growing daughter does, because I know the days are getting faster and it hasn't even been a year yet, I feel this space in my heart growing for our next child.<br />
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It's a bit conflicting, this feeling. A desire, really. Verging on a hope.<br />
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<div style="text-align: right;"><i>Dare I?</i></div><div style="text-align: right;"><i>Dare I ask for another?</i></div><br />
I have this amazing, perfect little girl who looks like her daddy and has my stubborn streak and a smile straight from heaven and I am definitely not bored raising her. It is one thing to be content and just "see what happens," but it's another thing (for me, at least) to step into the hope zone again.<br />
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People have asked me how many kids I want to have and how far apart I want them to be. I tell them, "We've gone through too much to suppose our wants have anything to do with it." Seriously, if it had been completely up to me, I would've been married at 20 and finished having/adopting 8 kids by 30 (math and science weren't my strongest subjects)!<br />
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Thank GOD that was not His plan for me! I look at my Ayla Jewel and am so grateful. SO Grateful for the very day my first child was born and every day of her life that has been when it is. Do you know what I mean? And if she's all we get, then we will be full and grateful.<br />
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I mean, look at her:<br />
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I have friends with different kinds of stories of how their families grew. They have decided to get pregnant and have done so. They have decided to have kids so many months apart and have done so. I'm so very happy for them.<br />
<br />
I have friends who, like us, who walked the infertility road for some time, got pregnant, then their bodies "figured it out," and it never was a problem again. I know others who experience miscarriages between every full-term pregnancy, or just have long, unexplained waits every time. I know others who are "one and done." <br />
<br />
Of course, there's no way for me to know what my body is going to do or how long the wait for Ayla's sibling will be. I don't know if said sibling will be birthed or adopted. I don't even know what's going to happen tomorrow!<br />
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I'm okay with not knowing the when, the who, the how. I hope I learned something in the 3 1/2 years we waited for Ayla. <br />
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What I don't know if I'm okay not knowing (<i>follow me?)</i> is the if. If we will in fact have a who somehow somewhen. <br />
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I'm pretty sure our family isn't complete yet. I may not want 8 kids anymore, but how can I not want to see if luck would hit us again with another angel baby? I see how much Ayla loves people, how great she is around other kids and I know she would be a fantastic big sister. I think of how much I love being a big sister (and a little sister, too) <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(had to put that in because my older brothers are two of the 10 people who read my blog)</i>,</span> and I want that for her.<br />
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These are my thoughts as we speed down the track to complete this first-year lap. What did I learn during the pre-Ayla season? What lessons about hoping and waiting stuck and which will I have to learn all over again? I know I didn't write about my <a href="http://annasjoyblog.blogspot.com/2011/01/one-word-2011.html">One Word</a> very much in 2011, but it was <b><i>ask</i></b> and I did learn to be a better asker. So, am I ready to ask for this? For Ayla to be a big sister? <br />
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Gratefully, simply, humbly, in whispers and with a longing I don’t quite understand,<br />
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yes.Anna Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06623013797835397745noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8837629442340309570.post-90620588082691968432011-12-12T22:22:00.000-05:002011-12-12T22:22:56.523-05:00Every Day Ayla - Month 11<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj89NKRvBA-B0n_CtPtw4Q2vyUcuT0kn60Vvdu090SWOlCfXFhanmtuR88t0m_U8pbp4l7BI0m-ERhtUvPKf00ko54Cx8SrDdnTnzDcbuTdX6-3YIguPPXMPmo27cR_cHOJjS3kbHY-UejP/s1600/11+collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj89NKRvBA-B0n_CtPtw4Q2vyUcuT0kn60Vvdu090SWOlCfXFhanmtuR88t0m_U8pbp4l7BI0m-ERhtUvPKf00ko54Cx8SrDdnTnzDcbuTdX6-3YIguPPXMPmo27cR_cHOJjS3kbHY-UejP/s640/11+collage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Well folks, this is it.<br />
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The last monthly every day collage. Next month we'll finish off this project with a nice video of a whole year of my baby girl. I can't believe it. All day while editing the pictures, I just kept shaking my head.<br />
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<div style="text-align: right;"><i>Why does it amaze or sadden us when our children grow up? That's what we want, right?</i></div><br />
The word of month 11 is "communication." Ayla's language skills have been on the forefront of her development and it's been fun to see her connect things she says or signs to the effect that has. She can now sign "milk," "dog," and "please," and she says "yeah," "ball" (baw) and "kitty" (ity).<br />
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She's picking up relational skills, too. She can blow kisses and roll a ball back and forth. She hands me books she wants me to read to her, then either climbs in my lap or sits by me and helps turn the pages. She hugs and kisses her stuffed animals and her balls. She really likes balls. (I know you want to snicker, go ahead. Now get over it.) She loves music and "dances" when she hears it, and by dancing, I mean bouncing up and down. When I'm putting her to bed, she starts to hum because she knows I'm about to sing to her. No word yet on when we'll do our first mother/daughter recording, but you'll be the first to know!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ_t72j9qasrT2lBcSWwsCVlYWOhIyN7KpzeNyDyrKJ6UaZIxO5TIepCb_-TzDdUEn0_vEL6kSaUB5Bda51XNnr9Hn4cdre5AU7mBoUNCiv9x8M9rFGQJw7MPUr0h9YaPAj5b6iDXqyB98/s1600/tooth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ_t72j9qasrT2lBcSWwsCVlYWOhIyN7KpzeNyDyrKJ6UaZIxO5TIepCb_-TzDdUEn0_vEL6kSaUB5Bda51XNnr9Hn4cdre5AU7mBoUNCiv9x8M9rFGQJw7MPUr0h9YaPAj5b6iDXqyB98/s200/tooth.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>This month, her first tooth finally popped through. My siblings and I didn't get teeth until after our first birthdays, so I suspected she might be a late teether. It's nice to see some result of all these months of drooling, pain and intermittent irritability, but that sucker is sharp!<br />
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She's standing more on her own, and enjoys pushing her train-walker around, but still prefers to crawl more than anything. She's becoming quite the climber too, so it looks like more baby proofing is in order.<br />
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I started giving her grains this month, but most of her diet is still fruits, beans and veggies. She's kind of a ninja when it comes to picking up and eating food off the floor and since we have a pretty active social life, she gets ample opportunity to sample what her playmates drop. You know, come to think of it, they may be working out some kind of deal with all that screeching and babbling they do. I'll have to look into it.<br />
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My goal is to wean her after her birthday, and (officially) introduce meat and dairy then, too. Right now, I'm trying to get her to drink out of sippy cups more regularly so I can keep her hydrated once she's weaned. She likes to drink from straws, and commandeers my water bottle whenever she sees it, but it seems to be more of a novelty and less of a way to actually down liquid.<br />
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I'm so proud of this girl. We spent three of the last four weeks with John traveling through three time zones to Colorado, Wyoming, Oklahoma, Texas and South Carolina. She did so well on the planes, in hotel rooms, playing with our friends' kids, playing with her cousins, taking naps pretty much on schedule and wasn't even phased by the time zone changes. Of course, it helped having an extra set of hands. I was totally spoiled!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGRELnY0WObWAFVcxMn-puw9qiRBJFWkb2TW7xF1enNGH7DKSg5ZA2oaoYDhGQgR6qcCx3nfxMCyC7N6Kc1smZDKdLrHTumQeeZdgglHo9Sf_jNSI0i7r3tLFbMrs92deJSGsfuEcqb8iI/s1600/IMG_3013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGRELnY0WObWAFVcxMn-puw9qiRBJFWkb2TW7xF1enNGH7DKSg5ZA2oaoYDhGQgR6qcCx3nfxMCyC7N6Kc1smZDKdLrHTumQeeZdgglHo9Sf_jNSI0i7r3tLFbMrs92deJSGsfuEcqb8iI/s200/IMG_3013.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>And of course, she loved being with her daddy. If you've met her, you know she loves everyone. I think that's how she approached him at first, like she does everyone else, but by the end of the three weeks, I'm pretty sure they bonded in a special way. She definitely knows who Dada is, even though she still uses that term indiscriminately. Now when we Skype with him, she gets very excited, waves and starts using all her sign language. It's very cute.<br />
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Speaking of cute, here are her last 30 days:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaenaW1eOniZ6hWSdSgrGGmn2PEIpZQMGYpL_z-BSuLV4fzpr30tTV26IsDRKWsfBLBqyALtYwvVJUg3XHHJ3XN35J2AuANilNz6nbskZEZK5PDwmxXQIt4IEAtjnIeEoBr5071nfvs60E/s1600/11+month.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="534" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaenaW1eOniZ6hWSdSgrGGmn2PEIpZQMGYpL_z-BSuLV4fzpr30tTV26IsDRKWsfBLBqyALtYwvVJUg3XHHJ3XN35J2AuANilNz6nbskZEZK5PDwmxXQIt4IEAtjnIeEoBr5071nfvs60E/s640/11+month.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Anna Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06623013797835397745noreply@blogger.com3