glorious morn--encouraged by growth...

Morning shadows are long shadows. They are shadows that stretch out long behind you as you march toward the sun, or shadows that lean out in front as you walk away. Morning sun is a bright sun, a sun new and full of energy and promise. Crisp mornings are meant to be spent outside, beneath that newly awakened star--making those stretchy shadows. Cool mornings call us out, beg us to breathe in their reviving essence and allow our eyes to twinkle from the light falling dappled through the tree branches. There is something grounding about being outside on a morning such as this. About walking through a wooded park, listening to the birds' cheerful twitters and seeing the flutters and swoops of bird and butterfly in the fields. The breeze tickles our memories of childhood campouts, playing with friends. The earthy smell of leaves and moist ground arises and awakens thoughts and ideas that would have never lifted their groggy heads had they been kept indoors. Having my two precious gifts out with me on a morning like this could only make this experience better. Especially when accompanied by my new BFF, the double stroller. We rolled and crunched our way down winding roads, exclaiming over the wonders of nature that stretched out before us every way we looked. And I marveled most over the wonder of what was just inches from my finger tips. I looked amazed at my babies now not so small. I wondered at their sturdy bodies, ever growing, now sitting calm in the pure joy of being out. I smiled as I realized that even if most days it may not feel like it's true--these children are learning. And growing, And maturing. They are learning to love and respect each other. They are learning to be at peace. They are learning to stand in awe of God's creation. Lord, on hard days--let me remember the happy moments. Such as these. 

And, P.S Lord? Let them remember the cool mornings, too.

Made me smile...

My toddler's version of eating apples.

Fast, then Faster

"In the middle of the night,
Miss Clavel turned on her light
And said, 'Something is not right!'
And afraid of disaster
Miss Clavel ran fast
And even faster."
--From Madeline by L. Bemelmans

These lines have been rattling through my brain the last couple days, ya wanna know why?

He is three foot tall, has the cutest dimples you'll ever see and answers to the name of Noah.

Gracious, he has had my hair standing on end.

Like this one:

We have a balcony outside our front door here on the 3rd floor. There happen to be 3 stair wells, 2 near our front door, and one at the far end of the hall. Rey put up doors on the stairs close to our door, but Noah never was interested in going down to the other end, so Rey left that one uncovered (That, and other projects caused it to never get a door). Well, that stair well goes up to the "still-under-construction" part of the building--the roof/5th floor.

This fine day, Noah and I had been playing in his room. I went to get a movie out of the closet to put on for him and he came pattering after me. He didn't see me, and went on by. I put the movie in, expecting him to start calling for me. He didn't, so I went to check on Aleni.

Then, I heard rocks being thrown. Now, there are blocks on the "safe roof/patio" above us that he likes to play with, so I went up to see how he was. He wasn't there, but I continued to hear the thumping noise. So, I ran back down into the apartment and re-checked his room. No, and thud, thud. My room, the closets, Aleni's room, the bathroom. No. Where....?? Then my heart stopped--did he go up that other stairs?? I ran fast, and then faster, up to the 4th floor. Didn't see him, but the thuds were louder. Up to the fifth floor/roof. And there stood my little prince, grabbing broken pieces of bricks and blocks, hurling them, and watching them fall the 5 floors to the ground below.

This floor, as I said, is being constructed. So it is that--a floor. No walls. Noah was literally standing with his toes on the edge of this storey looking down, down, down to the cement patio below. My heart turned to stone and my hands tingled with fear. I calmly said, "Hey, little man, having fun?" not wanting to startle him as I slowly moved towards him. Ah, the relief of swooping him up in my arms and rushing him back down to our apartment.

Thank You, Lord for being with our children when we aren't.

Or this:

Yesterday, I made some oatmeal cookies. Noah had one when he woke up from his nap. He really liked it, and a while later came over a grabbed one off of my friend's plate. "No, Noah," I said, "I want you to eat supper before you have any more cookies." He already had a bite in his mouth, a opened his mouth to let out a scream of anger at not getting what he wanted. In so doing, he inhaled the bit of cookie he had there.

He started coughing. I had Aleni in one arm, so I lifted his arm to help him pass the bite. He kept coughing and gagging. He has a tendency to overreact when he coughs, so I was just saying, "It's ok, you can do it". Suddenly, his face turned completely purple. And at that, I lost all feeling in my body. I rushed to lay Aleni on the couch and kneeled beside Noah, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He was beginning to go limp as his blue lips kept moving with his effort to cough and tears streaked down his face. The only thing I could think to do was to check his throat to see if I could feel the blockage. The little chunk of cookie was there, wedged at the entrance to his throat. It probably wasn't the right thing to do (the Heimlich maneuver did not even enter my mind), but I wiggled my finger around the piece to dislodge it. The house around me melted away as every sense funneled into my little boy. Come on, come on.... and it was out. And Noah was gasping, and coughing and crying. And his face was becoming white, and then pink. And we snuggled on the couch together with Blankey.

Thank You, Lord, for saving my baby's life--even if I do all the wrong things.

So, these things may help you understand why this cool morning found me leaping from the shower as it was still running, my face white with Noxema, and streaking up to the roof patio with a towel wrapped around me. I had heard a nearby scream from Noah (which he does a lot when he is imitating someone on a movie), but I didn't hear anything else, so I kept sudsing. Then, I heard what sounded like a call from help--but far away.

No! Don't tell me--he's outside in trouble?? I ran out of the bathroom. "Noah??" And I heard a replying noise, but it sounded muffled. The front door was shut... had he gotten stuck somewhere on the patio? So, I cast an eye at his empty bedroom and then shot up the stairs and outside (thank goodness the neighbor was gone). No Noah up there. Back down the stairs. "Noah, Noah???" No answer. Still not in his room, or any rooms. Start checking the closets. Opened his closet, and 2 brown eyes looked calmly up at me as chubby little hands held the blanket up to his cheek. He stepped around me dismissively, and sat down to play with his cars. "Your welcome..." I called out to his back.

Thank You, Lord, for protecting my babies even when they're not in danger.

Hats off to you, Miss Clavel. I don't know how you did it.

Secrets to Successful Brothering

Since Noah has officially won the Nobel Best Brother Award, he has been preparing day and night for his acceptance speech. I found his notes tucked in a corner of his high chair the other day. These are top secret tips on how to be the world's best brother, so you better thank me for giving you the ahead-of-time, insider's look at these. Got to write fast, before he wakes up from his nap and discovers what I'm doing!!

Top Tip #1: Refer to little sis as "eee-eeee" (big boy talk for "baby") in the highest, squeakiest, sweetest voice you can.

Top Tip #2: Learn from mama. If mama calms baby down by going "Shhhh shhhh shhh", then do likewise. It helps to bob as you chant the magic sound.

Top Tip #3: Every morning, after playing a while, look around for baby. If the door to the bedroom is shut, bang on it while chirping "ee-eee" until the door is opened. Make a beeline for the crib and continue talking to baby in this chirpy voice.

Top Tip #4: Baby's other name is "nigh-nigh" ("goodnight").

Top Tip #5: Make sure to check out baby's stuff to see if it's ok. This includes playing with his/her rattle and sucking on his/her pacifier when mama and daddy aren't nearby.

Top Tip #6: Let nothing get between you and your access to baby. If this means learning how to climb up onto mama and daddy's super high bed for the first time, do it. No fear! Press onward.

Top Tip #7: When giving baby kissees, nothing sufices but at least 5 in a row. Less... well, then... you're not the best. Obviously.

Top Tip #8: Saved the best 'till last. This is the number one important one, really. THE JOB of big brother: Whenever baby makes a grunt, squeak or wail, your job is to alert mama. Sort of the Lassie of the family. Run to baby (or as close as possible) and reach out your hand to him/her while looking around for mama and saying "ee-eee" as many times as nessesary to alert the (sluggish/neglectful/not-on-top-of-her-game) mama.

THE END.

And, I must say: He speaks from experience!! I love you, bubby!!

Enjoyment

So, we had snow here yesterday. I know! In Mexico! Not a complete shock, because we'd been told it sometimes happens here in the mountains.

We didn't get much accumulation, but a lot of the fluffy stuff came down throughout the morning. It was beautiful. I wondered if Noah would notice what was going on outside. And then I saw this:

He stayed like this for about 15 minutes (an eternity for a toddler!). He'd press his nose against the glass and fog it up with his breath. He'd look at us to see if we saw what he saw. And, he just took in the wonder of a first snowfall.

And then, deep in thought, slowly... he began to clap.

And it made me smile.

Just takin' a walk...

Noah and I usually take an early evening walk around the blocks close to home. The other day, I started looking at what we were walking by with, "I don't think I saw these things on walks with my mommy" eyes.

Such things as:

• A nativity scene. Complete with the devil standing by. Painted completely red, with a skull between his feet and a beer bottle in his right hand. Sure seems to take the "serene" out of the scene.


• A box tossed by the side of the road with a blanket in it. Closer examination reveal little puppy feet. 3 dead puppies.


• An empty condom wrapper under the park bench


• About 4 pounds of cooked beans, heaped in the grass next to the side walk.

Sometimes I think about this whole "normal" thing. For Noah, it is normal to listen to people talking and say, "Si, si, si" or to hit the bad floor that made him bonk his head and say "Ma-o, ma-o" (Malo="bad"). It's normal he lives in a 3rd floor apartment that looks out to the mountains surrounding our city. It's Noah's life that there is no candy sweeter to him than a corn tortilla hot off the presses. It is normal for him that he lives at over 7,000 feet of altitude and that here there are more people on bikes or motorcycles than cars.

I feel like I am bringing him "normal" when I serve him up his beloved mac & cheese (Kraft, to be sure) or when I present him with a box of Crayolas. Or sing him nursery rhymes. Or turn on Blue's Clues (which he absolutely loves).

I wonder, as I look at him--straddling these two "normals". He doesn't even know he's doing it. I wonder if he will later. I hope to find and accentuate the good in both these normals, and to not project that what is not my normal is in some way inferior.