Thursday, May 7, 2015

Waking up with Dags




Little Jail Bird

I have a lot of favorite things about Dagny. One of them is hearing her in her crib after she's woken up. Sometimes she's sitting down facing the wall mumbling to herself. Most of the time she's standing up like this yelling for me to realize she's awake. 




















That little crinkly nose. I can't stand it. 



Waking up with Dagny is as sweet as putting Dagny to sleep these days. I turn out the lights, put her ocean noise maker on, and play Somewhere Over the Rainbow sung by my sister Clementine. Dagny calmly rests her head on my chest and makes little, peaceful noises. Tonight, she tilted her head back and looked at me. I gave her a kiss on the cheek close to her mouth, and she laughed the quietest laugh, smiled, and closed her eyes. I cried. I love her so much and thank Jesus for this sweet gift of being her mama. 

Wednesday, May 6, 2015

Poor Bird






At what point are wild children ill behaved children? I hosted a party recently that a bunch of friends from work came to. Within minutes of the arrival of a family with kids, my little tiny house was turned into a jungle gym. My couch was a fort and my closets were prime hiding spots. If you have been to my house you'd know its adorned with treasures. Antique hand me downs from my parents, Damariscotta pottery and pieces I like to describe as investments make up most of it. A few pieces are even a little too rickety for Mark's taste. Suddenly, I found myself having a very hard time enjoying the party because my house was being destroyed, and the volume had increased ten fold. I'm not sure if it was that I kept reminding myself to relax and accept that this is what life with children looks like, or the fact that I kept drinking margaritas, but I didn't say anything. Don't get me wrong, I love children. I especially love well behaved, polite, and respectful children. I also understand that my curated house will have to undergo some changes as Dagny gets older and our family grows. 

My sister and I have had a number of conversations about raising children and comparing the different parenting types. Our biggest examples are comparing our families with our cousins. Now that we are all adults its fun to talk about the different methods and "scary aunts" from our childhood. My parents were always the strictest of the families. We knew that at 5:00pm it was wine time and "grown-up" time. The five of us would disappear and entertain ourselves elsewhere. We also knew that when one of the parents had to come tell us to settle down, that meant business and we obeyed. Most of my cousins were terrified of my parents. However, my parents were raising five children in an Inn that was constantly full of inn guests trying to enjoy the peace and quiet of the East Coast. We had to understand boundaries and be well behaved. I love that at a young age, we knew how to find pleasure in talking to older couples staying at the Inn. We knew that there was a time for quiet. When the Inn guests left for the season, we could be wild and make the Inn ours. The Bernets were always a little more on the wild and ridiculous side. Today, they are the funnest people to be around because they are all hilariously silly and they make everyone around them laugh. While some of their behavior growing up never would of flown in our house, its clear that a little wild and silly is okay. I don't want to be the "scary mom," but I can already tell I have a lot of my mom in me when it comes to acceptable behavior.  It makes a huge difference when your children are guests in someone else's home. The behavior in your home can be different than the behavior in someone else's. I want my kids to be well behaved. I also want them to be silly and wild like the Bernets. I want them to know love like those kids do from their parents and I want them to make Mark and I laugh as much as they make their parents laugh.

So at what point is wild ill behaved? Well, when my dollhouse stairs are ripped off and this poor little birds legs are bent back just because, I draw the line. I can look past the messes and noise. Those are easy fixes and apart of the experience. When things are broken because of misbehavior, that is harder for me to look past. The fact is my house is tiny. There really isn't somewhere for kids to disappear and play. We also had two babies here that were on and off sleeping in rooms that could of been played in. So the chaos seemed to be where the adults were trying to eat and drink. It just got me thinking about wild children and how well my parents taught us when wild was not okay. 

Sunday, May 3, 2015

Dagny update



Dags is 8 months old. She's getting so big! Currently she crawls around the house making a stinky face and breathes heavily through her nose. She looks and sounds like a little bulldog. She just started giving me open mouth kisses. Now we're working on giving bear hugs like Remi. She is joy in its truest form and I love her to death.

























Saturday, May 2, 2015

We Snuck Away

Happy May! I'm sad to see my birthday month go, but who doesn't love May! A couple weeks ago Dagny and I made a quick trip to Dallas to see Mark. Mark wasn't ready to play, but the team still took him on the trip because he was going to see us. Thank you TFC. It was the greatest breath of air to see Mark and Dagny together. She took to him as if he was here every day, and we loved on one another all weekend long. Thank you Jesus. Now for an overload of pictures.




Dagny was a saint on both flights. I traveled without a stroller and didn't miss it for a second. 








The hotel was out of pack and plays so the three of us snuggled up in the king bed. 














Taco Diner. 






 After about 40 minutes, a Texas thunderstorm moved in and delayed the game. The stadium cleared as everyone was advised to seek shelter. We hunkered down for three and a half hours. 






I got to see Lindsey! 







Goodbyes are the saddest. Mark is the most handsome dad I know. 




Im not quite sure how this fair skinned beauty and I are related.