Night Lights

Warm summer sun, shine kindly here. Warm summer wind, blow softly here. Green sod above, lie light, lie light. Good night, dear Heart. Good night, good night.

- Mark Twain

I never really used a night light growing up. Sure, when we were kids spending the night in my mom's old room at Cha-Cha's house, we'd always have the bathroom light on with the door cracked. But those were special times with special girls, and it was usually just so we could stay up 'till the wee hours driving my mom and Aunt Rita crazy with our incessant chatter and laughter. As an adult, I grew to sleep in a room that's pitch dark.

That changed when we moved to this house. The green light from the alarm panel and smoke detector cast a faint glow in our bedroom. When I was suffering from migraines, I'd have Mike tape something over them so I could sleep in peace. But once that problem subsided, the tape came down and the effluence resumed.

When I was pregnant, I reluctantly added a night light to our bathroom for my incessant nightly visits.

Then we had the Peachick. And another glow was added to our bedroom in the form of her AngelCare monitor. I often lie awake for hours, watching the reassuring pendulum showing me that her heart is still beating and that she's still breathing.

Even more nocturnal light was shed throughout our house in the path from our bedroom to hers, as I was terrified somebody would trip on a bouncy seat or squeaky toy. The last thing we need around here is a broken bone. And there's a warm glow in her bedroom at night so we can pick her up and rock her at all hours without fully waking her up when the monster fusses in her sleep. So I've grown into appreciating the guidance provided by these tiny devices picked up at the Kroger.


All this baby care is exhausting and time-consuming. So to ensure that we have at least five minutes together - just Mike and me - every day, we have started reading Night Light by Dobson. Now that he can resume the ritual of lying on my belly just before we go to sleep, I'll put aside whatever inane novel I'm working on and pick up this book to read one of the one-page-long devotionals. Sure, it has some sections that feel silly or cheesy to talk about, but it's shedding new light on our marriage, and I love how we are glowing. We sometimes fall asleep chatting about that devotional's topic.

So now I suppose I've come a full 360 degrees, back to the little girl huddled in my mom's old bed, once again loving the light at night and the people whom it illuminates.

Artwork courtesy of David Castillo.

Curried Fruit

Mike loves curry as a seasoning, so this is one of his favorite dishes. I particularly like how it compliments any white-meat dish. The flavors of the different fruits shine through when you take a piece of pear or peach or pineapple and eat it with chicken or pork. It's divine.

This dish is best with fresh fruits, but with Little Bit it's easier to just pop open a can. I suppose the recipe was modified in the 40s or 50s, when canned fruits were in high style. Then again, when you dump brown sugar and melted butter on anything, it's bound to taste delightful.

1 large can peach halves
1 large can apricots
1 large can pears
3 small or 1 large can pineapple, cut (not crushed)
10-20 cherries to taste
1/3 cup butter
3/4 cup brown sugar, packed
4 teaspoons curry

• Drain fruit well.


• Mix butter, brown sugar, and curry.


• Spread fruit in shallow baker - dot wiht sugar mixture.


• Bake at 325 degrees for 1 hour the day before serving to let flavors bloom.


• Refrigerate overnight, and warm at 350 degrees for 1/2 hour.

Basically, it's a fruit casserole, so changing the fruits included to suit your own taste is bound to only make it better. I'd personally love one with only pears and peaches, etc. Have fun with it.
As usual, I forgot to take a photo of mine, so thank you to Evening Edge for the photo above.

Easter Brunch

Good morning my dear readers. I've been meaning to write this post for over a week now, but I didn't realize how rude it would be to our monster for me to work on the computer when she's awake and ready to play. I never dreamed it would be so much fun to just lie in the floor and talk with a 3 month old. She's currently in the floor on her tummy, chatting with the baby in the mirror, so I have a few minutes to spend with you.

We had a lovely Easter, and we hope you did too. It was very low-key: we had planned to attend the sunrise service at church, but Avery was sleeping in, and we thought God would forgive us for doing the same. So we just stayed in and dressed up and took pictures and had a lovely brunch.

This menu came together rather seamlessly, and it's by far one of my favorites for springtime. We had some of our favorites: grilled pork tenderloin, curried fruit, asparagus grilled in lemon-infused olive oil that my cousin Katy gave us for Christmas, raspberry congealed salad, cheese grits, and deviled eggs. We were stuffed.

And we had coconut cake for dessert. Avery was impressed and can't wait until next year when she can have some too.

She wasn't so sure about photos but stuck it out with us anyway. I love this picture because she's giving us her signature stinkeye while Mike and I are smiling like goofballs. At least you know exactly where you stand with this kiddo. She keeps it real.

Somebody desperately needed a nap after brunch. And of course it had to be underneath her favorite Georgia Tech blanket.
It's a rainy day here in Mississippi, and our only plans are to recover from this migraine and go make groceries. I am so grateful for so many things: for God's gift of His only Son, for His love and forgiveness, for this man to whom I'm so happily married, and for Mike's work so I can fulfill my lifelong dream of raising this baby girl the way I want.

Speaking of, the monster's on the warpath, so I'd better go entertain. Y'all have a happy Tuesday!

Vintage

Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.

- Mark Twain

And oh boy, does Baby Girl have some clothes. Yesterday afternoon was like Christmas! Below isn't a quarter of what Mom brought from her stash in her cedar closet. All of it hand-made, smocked, knitted, appliquéd, and embroidered. There are a few Feltmans thrown into the mix, but that was usually because my grandmother liked it and wanted to purchase it so she could derive a pattern from the dress itself. Then she could turn around and make dozens for me. And every dress has matching bloomers! I remember wearing some pieces: you can tell my favorites because of the wear and tear on them.
My maternal grandmother, Cha-Cha's, first degree from Auburn University in 1942 was in Home Economics with a minor in textiles, and my mother's first degree from Auburn was in fashion merchandising. I come from a long line of seamstress wizards.

It's a pity too because the streak is ending with Mom. My talent is in the kitchen: sewing, crocheting, knitting, tatting, all that stuff makes me crazy. I was fussing with Cha-Cha all day long yesterday: I'm beating myself up at not having learned at least a little bit of this important trade, but I can hear her right now: "You can make fudge and divinity better than anyone in the family. That's where your talent lies, Honey."

Either way, Little Bit likes her hand-me-downs from her mama.

This pink dress is particularly important: the lace was made by my great-grandmother Leila, for whose son and favorite brother Avery is named. We have more pieces with lace made by Avery's great-great grandmother; they're still safely tucked away. Mom made the dress, and her mom smocked it and stitched in the seed pearls. It's a family affair - I suppose my contribution will be the little girl who will wear it.

Unintentional Routine

New moms can stress about everything, and to some extent I am no exception. I try diligently to dumb this down - not make it so complicated - but Mike says sometimes it's like I always have my foot on the gas pedal and can't slow up. I'm trying desperately to keep up with everything I used to do before Avery came along, and I'm slowly but surely realizing that's not really an option.

One of my big stresses was ROUTINE. Everybody and everything I read stressed routine, routine, ROUTINE!!! BABIES LIKE ROUTINE. They thrive on it. They have to have it. If you don't put your baby on a routine from day 1, you're screwed for life and your baby will grow up listless and unsuccessful and eventually live in a van down by the river.

ROUTINE.

But how can I establish a routine when I'm not even sure what we're going to be doing from one day to the next? From visitors to visiting, to the grocery store, to church, Monday is never like Tuesday or any other day for that matter. So after a few days of attempting to force it, I stopped beating myself up and decided to go with the flow. Live on the edge, one day at a time, sometimes one hour - one minute - at a time, and make sure the kiddo is pink and breathing every morning.

Lazy bums. This was taken about a month ago. Mike and I were both up and moving, but Avery and Dante had other plans.
She's usually happiest in the mornings, which is kind of a downer because during the week, her daddy only sees her when she's a cranky little kid. But Saturday and Sunday mornings are the best.
Snarky.
I decided to slow down and enjoy this little person while she's still this young and little. Once up, she eats and plays for a while, then goes down for a nap. Then she wakes up, eats again, plays, and down for a nap again. Once more around the bend, and it's usually bedtime. Repetitive, I know, but .... wait.... what's that? I think it is... We managed to fall into a routine!

Holy cow.

It's like the story of the little girl who desperately wanted to catch a butterfly. She spent all morning out in the fields stalking and chasing butterflies, but couldn't catch one. Frustrated and tired, she laid down in a meadow and dozed off to sleep. Once she woke up, she was covered in butterflies. That's what happened here: Avery and I relaxed with each other and naturally fell into our own rhythm.

If I want to run errands, I usually time them around her nap and just let her sleep in her carseat. Or if we have to be somewhere at a specific time, I'll try to feed her right before we leave.

Now thanks to the wave sound app on my phone, baby girl can sleep anywhere.
As for bedtime, we don't do the elaborate bathtime, swaddle, story book, song, rock, rigmarole that we were told to follow. Mike usually gives her a bottle for her last feeding - anywhere from 7-9 - and she conks out for the night. Sometimes it takes some rocking and shhhing or the wave noise machine and patting, but she's usually out until 1 AM. Then I feed her, and she's sometimes good again until Mike wakes up around 4:30. We're a work in progress, and it's an awful lot of fun.

Three Months Later.......

A baby is an inestimable blessing and bother.

- Mark Twain

Well, I don't even know where to begin. You have been missed, dear readers, and I hope to have more time to write to you. Our little monster and her daddy are sleeping in, and I'm enjoying my morning coffee and catching up. We can't believe it's been three months already - where does the time go? Oh, that's right: it's now spent swaddling and rocking, washing and scrubbing, feeding and burping, singing and giggling. We're having a blast.

You haven't missed any new recipes because I don't really have any. I cooked twice as much before she was born and froze the rest, and we were so blessed with friends bringing food that we still have casseroles in the freezer, for which we are eternally grateful. Both the nourishment and extra time that we can spend with this miss mean the world to us.

Afternoons and evenings are challenging with Avery's colic/acid reflux/bitchy baby syndrome. I really think she's still somewhat hacked off at us for evicting her from my lovely warm body to face the world on her own. But she's learning that we are here for her and will raise her, despite her love of drama. Baby girl works hard and plays hard: when she's happy, she's the happiest kid on the planet. When she's mad about something, people know it in the next county. And when she's asleep, we all heave a big sigh of relief.

We're a team, she and I, and we spend all day together. She's great company, if not the best conversationalist. But that's getting better: we sing to each other. Really, we sing. I'll start, and then she starts cooing, and I mimic her, and she mimics me mimicking her, and it's just a lot of goofiness. She goes with me to work at my church, to the grocery store, and any other errands we have to accomplish. I'm developing great upper body strength carrying her around. Sure, it's tough, but we're making it and haven't yet been "that mom" in the Target with the screaming baby - knock on wood.

I took her to her first DAR meeting this past week, and though she seemed to enjoy it, I was rather frazzled by the end. I'm quickly learning that when somebody tells the baby, "You're so good!" They're really telling the mom, "You're doing great with this kid. Thanks for not letting her cry through the whole meeting." They want her to come back with me so they can keep up with her. Not sure how I'll manage that when I've just been elected treasurer for next year, but as with everything else, we'll figure it out.

Big Daddy Mike is phenomenal with her. Sometimes when I put her in his strong arms, I briefly feel their strength and think, "No wonder she calms down with him. I calm down too when I'm in those arms." Sure, she's tried both our patience, but we're a better team, more in love, and stronger than ever because of it. I can't tell you how blessed I am with this man.

We're still working on a schedule, but I'm not committed to anything really set in stone. I follow my grandfather Papa Doc's recommendation for dogs: if they're eating and drinking, pooping and tinkling, they're OK, and if they're wagging their tails, that's even better. This baby girl smiles all the time, so I'm not too worried.

Hiatus

Goodness. Where do I begin?

Nothing new has happened since January, but at the same time we have experienced an entirely new world with this little girl. Avery has been a whirlwind, and we love her to the moon and back.

She smiles at her mom and dad, and now we're both convinced it's not just gas.

She's a party girl at night, just like her mom. She eats a lot and often, also just like her mom.

She's happiest right after she eats, and I know her well enough now to see signs that she's run out of steam and about to have a meltdown if she doesn't fall asleep soon.

My goodness, how this kiddo is growing. At 7 weeks, she has outgrown her newborn duds and is already wearing 3 month clothes. Everybody asks us how much she weighs, and we have no idea. Will find out during her 8-week checkup tomorrow.

Her favorite toy is a zebra rattle that her dad picked out for her. She also enjoys pulling hair and pushing off of everything with her legs.

She's a little fish! One of our favorite activities is to take a bath together. I'll fill up our garden tub, and she's so happy to just float around and chill out with me. Definitely something she inherited from her dad, as I apparently hated baths at this age.

I'm loving the extra time at the house and the time spent bonding with her, and I will love it even more when she has outgrown this fussy stage of her life and we have a happy baby more often. But for now we're on a schedule of eat, happy kid, grumppot, nap, wakeup, eat, and so on.

And we wouldn't have it any other way.