boy after his daddy's heart

Our baby has turned into a daddy's boy. I wish you could see how excited Baby boy gets when his dad walks in the door from work-- he hears him unlocking the door and he immediately drops whatever he is doing and starts breathing heavy, waving his arms, and staring at the door.

And once daddy is home at night I am a mere accessory to their fun. I used to have a little bit of an edge because I was the food supply-- I still am part of the food supply, but Baby G has decided that doesn't really matter now because daddy can feed him yogurt and mangoes. Even when he nurses before bed I have to leave the room because if he sees his dad he won't nurse-- he just wants to play. I guess I sort of don't blame him. His daddy does lots of fun things with him. For example: He loves to "hang" from the (really ugly) ceiling fan in the living room. As soon as Daddy picks him up he starts reaching for it and since Daddy is so tall it is easy for him to grab it and hold on as long as he likes.
They also like to read books about trout and fly-fishing. One of Baby G's favorite things to play with is his dad's thread bobbin while he is tying flies.
With the nicer weather we have resumed work on the exterior of the house. Most daddys would want to do this work in peace, but Baby G is lucky-- his daddy just straps him in the BabyBjorn and they get to it.

Recently Baby G has also gone to Provo with Daddy. They got to go to class together and look at the ducks by the pond. When J brought Baby G home to me so he could go to work Baby G cried. It made me feel really good.

Baby G also loves going to see Daddy at work and playing with all of the paperclips and white-out bottles on his desk. Even though it is becoming clear that I am no longer my baby boy's favorite, I am SO grateful to have a husband that is such an involved and devoted father. I feel so blessed to have him.

One final story about the baby and his dad-- Baby G has really taken to this bottle of pink baby lotion:

It is his favorite toy and makes him happy when everything else is boring. I don't know what is so appealing to him about it, but for some reason, he carries it around in his little hands for as long as we'll let him. One day when he was being particularly attached to the bottle of lotion his daddy looked at him and, with a hint of sadness in his voice, said:

"Why can't you love blue lotion bottles?"

Pink lotion bottles just aren't that manly, I guess.

noapte buna

Tonight this picture came up on my screensaver:

For some reason as soon as I saw it I got emotional and had to fight back tears. Maybe it is because the way sweet Delia is sleeping reminds me of how Baby G sleeps. And maybe it is because I almost cannot stand the thought that Delia has to fall asleep alone. Maybe it is because she is sleeping on dirty sheets. Maybe it is because there isn't anyone to cover her up. Maybe it's because she doesn't have a favorite blankie to hold for comfort. Maybe it is because she doesn't have anyone to come pick her up when she wakes up from her nap. Whatever the reason, my heart is aching and heavy tonight.

Sometimes I feel like Alma when he wishes to be an angel to cry repentance (Alma 29), but this would be my cry instead: "O that I were an angel, and could have the wish of mine heart, that I might go forth to the corners of the earth where babies are lonely and pick them up, give them kisses, hold them close, and rock them to sleep. O that I were an angel and could take away their suffering, could ease their sorrows, and could bring them peace. O that I were an angel."

I remember feeling so sad at times when I was in the thick of all of the suffering in Romania. But I expected that. I knew I would see tragedy and I knew I would feel heartache. I also was IN Romania and I felt like I was doing something about it, which lifted my burden a little. I also believe that we were blessed with an endowment of peace in order to go about our work while we were there. What I didn't know was that the sorrow I felt there would never leave me-- that it, in fact, would be stronger at times after returning home. Even three years later (almost to the day) the heartache I feel every once in awhile catches me completely off guard. It can hit when there is a big snow storm, or when I am playing with my baby, or when I see a picture on my computer screen. The hardest part for me now is that there isn't much I can do about it.

Of course I can be rational about it, and I know that there are seasons in life. My two seasons in Romania have come and gone, and that was the Lord's plan for me. The season of my life now is to be a wife and mother. And I adore this season. I wouldn't trade being a wife to my dear husband or a mama to my sweet baby for anything else in the world, not even to be back in Romania. But that doesn't mean that I don't still ache to be able to do more to help. If anything, being in this new season and having my own family has only intensified my knowledge that I need to do more, that each of us has a sacred obligation to reach out in our own capacities and spheres of influence. And I guess that is the key, isn't it?

Sometimes I need a wake-up call like a picture of a sleeping orphan to remind me that, though I cannot be in Romania right now, I can and should be doing more right here in my own backyard. That is the way I can do my part right now, and that service is every bit as needed and valuable and life-changing as any other service I've ever done or will ever do. I'll do better if you'll do better, okay? Let's make a difference where we can. I think that would make Delia very happy.

Sweet dreams, baby girl.

mama's boy or dadda's boy?

I was looking through some of the pictures on my computer today and saw these from a few weeks ago. Looking at them made me wonder...

Does this baby

look more like

his daddy
or his mama?


What do you think?

lucky duckie

There have been a few times over the past couple of weeks that when I go into Baby G's room to get him after waking from a nap he immediately starts lunging and reaching toward his bookshelves. At first I thought that maybe he wanted to read a book since that it what we often get off of the bookshelf together. The immediate throwing of the book to the ground followed by more intense reaching to the bookshelf tipped me off that a book was not what he was after. So I turned him around to see what he was looking at, lifted him up to the top of the bookshelf where a few stuffed animals live, and voila, the babe reached out, grabbed the bright stuffed duckie that my grandma had given him, and gave it a giant squeeze.
Now when he starts lunging out of my arms after naptime I know right where to take him.
He loves this duckie.

for kim and ken

A few weeks ago I was in Idaho visiting my aunt and uncle and their family. On the last day I was there we got into a little bit of a hula hoop showdown and my performance was not so great... I used to be able to hula hoop with the best of them, but somehow my skills had definitely declined. So I came home with a determination to hula hoop once again no matter how many hours I had to spend practicing. Last week I was at my best friend's house and noticed that she had a hula hoop. I decided to try it and BAM! My skills were back in full force! Check me out now Kim and Ken! I want a rematch next time you are in town.