Thursday, February 9, 2012

welcome, little Lily Jane!

My new granddaughter came last night,
and she came in a hurry.
Though Jill had labor through the afternoon,
they went to the hospital at midnight.
 Lily Jane came at 3:08 a.m.
with one push from her very tough mom!
She's petite, lovely, perfect.

 Birth. Life. So miraculous.
Welcome, Lily Jane.
You and God reminded me last night
that there's nothing more sacred,
more beautiful or holy
than the birth of a baby.

Lily Jane Haller
born 2.9.12
at 3:08 a.m.
5 pounds, 14 ounces
17 inches

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

happy birthday, Mark: the almost-daddy

Well it would be pretty neat if my newest granddaughter, due TODAY, would actually decide to arrive, because it's her dad's 24th birthday. Some say, "oh, they need their own birthdays." I say it would be so special to share your day with your dad!

Here's Mark at around four. Happy-looking, though he was such a busy, non-stop little guy that by dinnertime he was usually an exhausted mess. He put 100% of himself into each day. As he got older, Mark was the only kid I ever saw who would simply say, "goodnight, I'm going to bed" when he got tired.

He played and worked hard.
He ate a lot.
And liked his sleep.
And that was that.

A favorite memory of Mark was at around age six. A neighbor had brought in a load of flagstones to build a retaining wall. Mark spied the excitement right away and trotted over to help. At noon, Taylor sent Mark home for lunch. But 15 minutes later, having eaten his sandwich, Mark was knocking at Taylor's door. "Ready to get back to work, Taylor?" The guy's a horse, we like to say.

Well, you'll be a cherished horse to your little girl. She's gonna be crazy about you!

I love you, Mark. Have a happy birthday!

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

I miss

I miss
coming in the back door,
over the worn wooden floor.


I miss
the beauty of the birches, even when they turn 
into a colossal task. 


I miss
the boathouse.


I miss
exploring in solitude
places where man has met the sea. 



I miss
the sunsets which remind me
that God's still in the business
of wowing us with His creative majesty.


For by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible ... all things were created by him and for him.
Colossians 1:16

Monday, February 6, 2012

my brain is mush

Awaiting a grandchild, right here in town, seems much different from those
out of town babies. I am on pins and needles. My day goes something like this:

Get up.
Check to make sure no messages are on my phone. 
Go to work for the morning.
Keep phone in my pocket and every time it vibrates I grab it quick.
Head out to the Y. Or on errands.
Phone does not go into the pool, but as soon as I get back to my locker,
I'm fishing for my phone.
And on it goes through the afternoon and evening, waiting and wondering.
And thinking I should defrost some meat sauce and make up a lasagna.
Just in case tomorrow is THE DAY.
But what if it isn't?
I would've wasted an easy meal on a day I didn't NEED an easy meal.
I get ready for bed. Put the phone beside the bed. On ring or vibrate, which is it?
Just as I'm dozing off, son David sends me a silly text at 11:30 p.m. and I jump,
sure it's THE call. We could have a baby in 24 hours!
Not that a baby is literally on the way with the first call.
But then, she could be! Oh, probably not.
My brain is mush!
Baby girl due on Wednesday. Stay tuned!

Saturday, February 4, 2012

today's laugh

This text-messaging isn't always reliable. A couple of days ago, my son Mark, the soon-daddy-to-be, sent a text out after he and Jill had a doctor's appointment. Well. Somehow it missed me AND Bill and we didn't hear from him until several hours later. He's a reticent guy anyway, coming forth with only the essentials. I'm hoping I'll get the memo when his baby's on the way.

This morning I texted Mark and asked, "is baby girl stirring at all this morning?"

The answer came. "Oh yeah, forgot to tell you, she's in the crib sleeping, wanna come see her?"

Bahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Friday, February 3, 2012

modesty overboard!

Swimming in February, dare I? We have a beautiful new YMCA in town, filling a long-standing need for recreation. Its two pools are gorgeous!

So, with a new membership card hanging from my key ring, off I go for a dip. I chose a great time: right after lunch, with few people around. First thing I see is a notice: "leisure pool closed for hygienic reasons." Hmmm, any mom knows what that means.

That leaves the lap pool which, rumor has it, is kept several degrees cooler than the leisure pool. Pulling on my very worn swimsuit, I tiptoe to the pool's edge. At 57, I feel grossly more self-conscious in a swimsuit than 30 years ago. But hey, fitness is the reason I'm here, right? And so I slip into a lane (brrrr) and swim.

For 30 minutes, I swim slowly. At times with a kickboard, but I keep moving. It feels marvelous! I love the water and though I'm in and around it a lot in summer, I'm not exactly doing sprints. Yesterday, some soreness. But back I go. This time only the leisure pool is open, with fewer lanes but a more welcoming temperature. Sharing a lane with another swimmer, I repeated my 30 minute swim. Feelin' pretty proud.

Then. This morning. Calf muscles, hip muscles, shoulder and arm muscles: all yelling at me: "What have you done to us?! We are too old for such foolishness!" Well, get over it, you muscles and joints. We're in this together and will press on and it can't get any worse. I'm giving you today off, but we'll be back at it soon.

Have you been swimming in a while?

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

welcome home, Jill

Yesterday I wrote of my daughter Katie's homecoming from a mission trip to Paraguay. Today I write of another of my girls, my daughter-in-love Jill. She and Mark have chosen for Jill to stay home with their baby, due in one week!

When I chose to stay home with our son David 28 years ago, I had little idea what it entailed. My own mother stayed home, but since she was gone, I had few mentors to call on. In fact, most of the women around me were career women and the super-woman mentality was prevalent.

I imagined PJ'd toddlers sweetly lined up on the couch, hands folded, at Christmas. If I applied discipline just right, they would never misbehave, always eat what I served and love me because I was their mother: an ideal mother at that.

No one told me that I could kiss a solid night's sleep good-bye for a very long time. That a croupy toddler would need mommy to hold him all night long. That just because a 15-month old eats carrots on Monday doesn't mean he'll eat them on Wednesday. That little children make lots of noise. Incessantly. That at times my tears would come from sheer exhaustion and frustration. That my relationship with my husband would change, not always for the better. And that I would sometimes swim against a tide of others' opinions regarding how best to spend my life.

Jill with her niece, Ashlyn
But coming home meant more. It took me to a level of selflessness I'd never known. It gave me the time to fall in love with my baby. It taught me to slow down and realize that babies learn and grow at their own particular pace. I relished nursing him in the same rocker my mother, and grandmother, had nursed.

I was free to stroll with my son on warm Florida days, lie on a blanket in the sun, and laugh at ourselves in the mirror. I remember him calling me "Baba" and wanting to turn off the "yite" in his room at bedtime. We read dozens of books together. I witnessed his language explode in discovering the world. It was an absolute wonder to me.

Being at home full-time was the toughest job of my life. But now at the other end, I see it was also the most rewarding. What I gained far surpassed all that I gave up.

Welcome home, Jill. May your home be a space for nurturing new life, the most precious of gifts: your child, your daughter, your new love.

And when exhaustion sets in, you can call on Baba.