Thumbody Special

Memory Monday

Colossians 3:1-3

"If you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died and your life is hidden with Christ in God."

I've Acquired Some MORE New Skills...

Read here about the skills I acquired while pregnant.

While a lot of these are still in the making, here are a few I've added as a new Momma:

• Whittling down the time it takes to get out the door from 20 min. to about 3
• Diaper changes in pitch darkness
• Sleeping on my back because it's easier to get out of bed from a deep sleep
• Holding him in my arms just right so his arm is around my side and not crushed or twisted
• Putting him in his car seat without bashing his head
• Putting him in his car seat and buckling in, like, 45 seconds
• Learning that he likes to be held facing outward so he can see stuff
• Supplying a full course "meal" in the 2x2 foot space in the back seat of the Honda
• Telling the difference between a pain cry, ooching cry, hungry cry, tired cry, etc. (still honing that one... not as easy as I expected)
• Knowing where every creaky floorboard is located in our entire house
• No more theater movies. Netflix is king.
• Living a very full and happy life, sleep deprived
• Realizing that Saturdays are not the Saturdays of yore
• Trying to pray specifically and a WHOLE lot more
• Praying that I won't pray for selfish reasons (i.e. "Please Lord, let him sleep so I can watch this dumb thing on TV")
• Realizing HOW patience is given. Definitely not the magical osmosis way I had hoped for.
• Realizing that this is probably the greatest and most wonderful adventure we could have ever embarked upon.

4 Months Ago

Really? This was 4 months ago?? We're gonna be parallel parking here soon...

The Prairie People

This is me fed up. Hence the obscene amount of the following caps lock ... sorry.

Fed up with baby books, Google searches, "expert" advice, and generally everything that "worked for another baby".

There's absolutely nothing wrong with James. I have media and information COMING OUT OF MY NOSE and all it does is induce needless worry. Since I found out I was pregnant I have inundated myself with so much stinkin' information and it stops today. Just an example: me thinking he had torticollis. The thought would have never crossed my mind had I not Google searched "baby tends to look only one way". It makes me mad how easily persuaded I am.

Now we're on to sleeping habits. Sentences like, "Babies __ months old need ___ hours of sleep or THEY'LL DIE" literally haunt me at night ... while James is sound asleep in his crib. I've read Ezzo, Ferber (yuck), Sears, Pantley, Weissbluth (like him) and all of them have the magic method, apparently. At that point I begin to feel my brain fizzle. And then I think of the Prairie People.

Ahh, the Prairie People.

Our pioneer women and men who raised their babies with, What?! No BabyCenter.com?? No Milestone Trackers to make sure their little one was NORMAL?? Sure, they had a much higher infant mortality rate, but just go with me on this. I'm so thankful for scientists and research in child development, I really am (it's sort of my job). But right now, FOR MY SANITY, I have to put that on the back burner. I don't think any of these things are bad, just bad for me right now. Everything is just too darn conflicting.

For now, I'm plenty happy with my family, the few professionals that I know, our doctor, my husband, and prayer for Godly wisdom.

For now, I'm just going to take a deep breath and be James' momma.

3 Chapters

Instead of doing 3 different posts, I thought I'd just break this one into chapters in order of importance.

Chapter the First: My New Thing

Jim and I found this neat little planter at the thrift store. He hung it above one of my favorite places, our kitchen sink.

Chapter the Second: Playing Hard

I love my bright-eyed boy.

Chapter the Third: Tears on a Sunday

Yesterday was our Family Dedication at church. I cried, Jim was solemn, and James shot his paci out of his mouth 8 feet across the platform.

An Ode. Sort of.

Dear Mr. Paci,

You make the days so sweet

Dear Mr. Paci,

The soothing you complete

But Dear Mr. Paci,

You make me want to shout,

When in the wee hours

You leave his precious pout...

My Biltmore Birthday

This is a little late-in-coming, but I wanted to expound upon my most wonderful 25th birthday present from Jim.

Saturday morning, Jim's parents came up to keep James all day. Jim and I left without a worry, knowing that James would be thoroughly provided with kisses and songs and care. We drove up to the Biltmore Estate, about an hour and half away, me positively GIDDY. Seriously, I was singing and giggling most of the way up there. Not only was I excited to go to Biltmore (the last time was in 3rd grade, I think) but I was free to turn my Momma Brain on low for a while. You can never really completely turn it off, I've found...

We arrived, toured the home, and finished with perfect timing to enjoy BBQ and Bluegrass music over at the winery. I just loved being able to hold my husband's hand as we walked, talk to him while simultaneously having eye contact, and sharing a neat time together saying, "Oo, look at that" and, "whoooa, that's cool".

We topped off the day by listening to the Gamecocks on the radio baaarely take a win. We arrived home to a happy boy and a dinner with Nonna and Poppa.

The trip was wonderful, yes, but on my birthday this year, I realize more clearly why we actually celebrate. The day of your birth is certainly a miracle. Even though it happens thousands upon thousands of times a day around the world, every birth is incredible. It's incredible for the mom, for the dad, for the child, for everyone. It's a day of meeting, of falling in love, of grieving for some. I think we celebrate because it's not just the day you were born, but it's the day you began.

Lord of the Lullabies

Jim and I are currently in the throes of sleep training with James. He's actually sleeping pretty well, but still waking up 3 or 4 times a night. I love Dr. Wiessbluth's book, Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child. The content has been very practical and changed the way I watch James' sleep cues, etc.

Right now we're mainly focusing on getting some good solid naps during the day in order to fulfill the "sleep begets sleep" adage. We've also constructed a pretty happy sleepytime routine. Here's how it goes:

• No later than 7:30 pm (if we can help it), it commences.
• James receives a nice, full meal
• A bath, if needed
• Next, a clean nighttime diaper (i.e., the expensive brand)
• A baby lotion massage to the tune of Trust and Obey, which he LOVES
• A rock in the Royal Recliner as Daddy plays The Most Beautiful Lullaby I Have Ever Heard. Ever.

Seriously, within a few chords James' eyelids are already starting to drop. I especially love the way that we gauge where James is in the sleeping process. It goes, "eyes still open, rolling back in his head, cross-eyed, or completely closed". I try to get him in the crib around cross-eyed so he's not in a deep sleep. We also wait to hear a few good sighs.

That all sounds pretty intricate but tonight it only took about 15 minutes, not including bath time. It seems to be working pretty well, but tomorrow is always SUCH a different day...

James has got it good

While I take an educational therapy student twice a week, James gets to stay with one of the greatest women on earth. Barb Lehman.

If you're blessed to know her, you know how lucky James is to have her. Here his he livin' it up at her house:

And what mom wouldn't want to find her baby sleeping peacefully upon return? We love you, Barb. You're a blessing.

To be perfectly honest...

Sometimes I feel like James is happy and content for about 22 minutes, total, for the entire day. For the rest of the time it seems like he's cranky, eating, or sleeping. I feel like I'm the Constant Soother, Singer, and Subduer.

Is this normal or am I just a particularly sorry mom?

Death is Life

I don't mean to be morbid, but I think about death a lot.

I'm not frightened by it. Well... maybe a little frightened by the pain that might come, but really, I'm not scared. Every time I get on an airplane (mostly because of the sheer ridiculousness of flying) I think to myself, "Yep, I'm ready to go."

I've thought about it more recently because of this Life that happened named James. Jim and I have talked some about what would occur if one or both of us died. We've purchased life insurance, yada, yada, yada. More interestingly, though, we've decided how we want our bodies interred.

I want to be cremated. It's cheap, quick, and requires a lot less makeup. I'd like for my ashes to be put in an earthenware jar and buried in a plot next to Jim. On my headstone, I want part of Psalm 16:11 engraved,

"... In your presence there is fullness of joy ..."

Yesterday, I came home and told this to Jim and he cried. He really liked it, thought it was beautiful. Today, he came home and said, "Sweetie, I know what I want on my headstone..."

"... and at your right hand are pleasures forevermore."

The rest of my verse.

Needless to say, we had an sweet, sweet moment clutching each other and crying in the driveway. Death has no sting at the Thompson house.

This IS why people have kids, right?

To take them for a walk because they look so stinkin' cute in their little hoodie and put a burp rag on their head so they look like a Flying Nun. Yea... that's what I thought.