Homemade popsicles . . . yum!

popsicleGracelyn and I made and enjoyed yummy homemade popsicles today–lots of nutritious ingredients with no added sugar. Later I found myself thinking that she probably got more essential nutrients from that one popsicle than most U.S. kids get from what they eat in an entire day. 😦

Today’s recipe started with a cup or two of milk and some yogurt, then we blended in camu camu powder, ground flax seed, chia seeds, cacao powder, coconut oil, frozen bananas and frozen blueberries (all organic). It should be noted, however, that the recipe tends to vary from day to day. Finally, we pour the liquid from the blender into a Zoku Quick Pop Maker, and the popsicles are ready to be devoured in 10 minutes flat.


Our little girl at 2.5 years old

It’s finally dawned on me: We’ve now got another full-fledged member of the family. Yeah, I know, I’ve said something similar before, but these days our family has a whole new dynamic. Gracelyn at age 2.5 takes part in meaningful conversations, organizes occasional dance parties, cajoles us into evening walks under the stars and takes part in our evening ritual of sharing what we’re grateful for that day. And that’s just for starters.

Gracelyn at age 2.5

Last night, as she has every evening since Gracelyn was born, Shonnie was sharing affirmations with Gracelyn: “You are loveable. You are worthy. You are whole. You are perfect exactly as you are.”

Gracelyn took it all in, and when Shonnie was complete, she responded to her mother with utmost sincerity: “Your heart is good. Your eyes are good. Your nursies are good. Your hair is good.”

I talked with Shonnie this afternoon about calling Gracelyn something other than “baby” at this point, instead using “girl” or “little girl.” Of course, Gracelyn named herself Baby Ghee, and we won’t mess with that, but it’s clear to anyone around who’s around her for a while that she’s not a baby anymore.

Gracelyn is, in fact, a bright, perceptive, creative, sensitive, independent, inquisitive, energetic, funny, loving, loveable, generous, compassionate little girl who spreads joy and laughter wherever she goes.

This afternoon, as Gracelyn was nursing, the prelude to her afternoon nap, Gracelyn told Shonnie, “When my nipples get big, you can nurse on them, Momma.”

No longer and right now

15 hours since we first met face-to-face

No longer and right now

No longer do you ride in my belly sharing every step and breath I take.

No longer can your body be easily cradled in just my two hands.

No longer do you greet me solely with coos, chirps, and searching eyes.

No longer does your body curl into itself, holding the pose of a neonate.

No longer do you need me for all of your needs to be met.

I miss all that has passed before this time.

I grieve what we have lost because no longer are you who you once were then.

Without letting go of “right now,” I wish I could simultaneously hold “back then.”

But that is not possible. Right now is now. Then is then.

So I cry, moan, and ache for all the preciousness we have had together.

Then I give thanks for each of these “thens” that are no longer, even though I want to hold them close forever.

I give thanks that though the past cannot be re-lived, tomorrow is not yet.

I give thanks that we have right now.

~ Shonnie Lavender, 9/13/12

Almost 2 years since that original “birth day”

Not a baby but still my baby

Beautiful “bouquet”

Today Gracelyn has birthday number 2 (although it’s technically #3 when you count the day on which she was born as #1). She is precocious, funny, clear-of-mind and heart, and as loveable as ever. Many people inevitably comment that we’re about to start the “terrible twos” but, as you can probably guess, I don’t cotton to that notion. (Check the photos page for more recent pics.)

Growing up

Yes, as Gracelyn gets older she has more desires for autonomy and for getting the experience of doing things herself. Sometimes if mama or daddy isn’t ready or willing for “just Baby Gee,” we say “no,” or provide an alternative that isn’t to her liking. Our default mode, however, is “yes,” even if it means cleaning something up afterwards or practicing deep breathing during it all. Here’s some of what’s transpired with our self-confident girl.

  • Two weeks ago she lifted the toilet seat lid, pulled down her potty reducer seat, climbed up on the toilet, peed, climbed down, shut the lid, and flushed the toilet. Though she still will take assistance periodically, she’s obviously very delighted to be able to do this task all on her own.
  • She explores high drawers and counters on her own by carrying a stool to where she wants to reach and then clambering up to stand and browse. Frequently she’ll say “See what’s going on up here” as she reaches her perch. It’s also very cute because the stool she uses is wood and a woven cloth seat/step so it’s somewhat heavy and it takes most of her strength to tote it around.
  • Yesterday she fetched a dish cloth from a kitchen drawer to clean up some washable marker she’d gotten on a chair (I hadn’t seen her do the drawing at all). She gave me the cloth asking me to put water on it so she could “wipe up” which she then did with only a minor follow-up by me.
  • Lately she’s enjoyed “putting in her contacts” (mimicking mama) which last night consisted of risotto and roasted broccoli she placed on her eyelids while eating dinner.
  • While visiting Chicago after a visit to Grandma Jeri and Grandpa Arlen’s, Gracelyn enjoyed walking down the sidewalks of many of the streets near the Art Institute, Lake Michigan, and Lakeshore Drive. I carried her when crossing streets and only a few times asked her to move further away from the curb which she was already doing naturally well.
  • She brushes her teeth and even does a little bit of flossing with pleasure and even some accuracy. Our new routine is that she does the first brush and then mama or daddy finish with a second brushing.
  • This girl loves to talk, rhyme, sing, repeat, and create. I’m repeatedly met by people who comment “she speaks very well,” “wow, she talks well for her age,” or “she’s just how old?” and they’re right. Daddy jokes that her career avenues might be either prop comic (G now calls herself “Prop Comic Dirty Face”) or linguist. She and I carry on simple conversations, we read books together (G finishing some sentences or filling in parts of the story), and sing many favorite songs. My recent favorite saying is “How ’bout that idea?” which she uses when putting forth her suggestion of something to do.

Forever my baby (“our” baby to be exact)

Of course, while Gracelyn’s independence is burgeoning in myriad ways, I’m grateful for all the ways she allows herself to still be a baby.

  • She kisses so sweetly and always on my lips. She has a loving expression on her face and comes away from the peck smiling and happy.
  • “Nursie!” is G’s cry when she’s feeling stressed, overwhelmed, tired, or has hurt herself. We still nurse before and after sleeping (naps or nighttime) and occasionally during the night, yet the once frequent cuddling and feeding has waned as she’s grown. It’s such a sweet treat to be able to still comfort her with my body and my milk and I relish having her nestled close and holding her tenderly as she regains her equilibrium.
  • Hugs, piggy back, and snuggling still keep us physically close as G continues to grow physically independent. Just today after a nap she snuggled up next to me, got nose-to-nose with me and we spent a minute or so in our tender embrace.
  • Being carried in our ergo carrier or sling keeps her cocooned against my body. While she often enjoys walking (and sometimes insists on it), I’m grateful for all the “mama carry you”s I get and every minute shes the joey to my mama kangaroo.

Celebrating this precious child

Here is a poem to give voice to the blessings that this birthday brings and the gratitude I feel for this most precious child of god.

On Your Birthday
by Shonnie Lavender

Today is different than other days

Except that it is not.

Today you will be exactly who you are meant to be.

You will create and imagine your own visions.

You will play and explore our world with awe and curiosity.

You will do and say things that give me pause, make me think, and wake me up.

You will be bold and quiet, quick and slow, playful and serious.

You will help me be myself, the person who I was made to be.

You will remind and reheart me of what is possible and inspire me to make it so.

Today you will be and do all this and more.

Today is the same as all other days

Except that it is not.

Today is the anniversary of your birth.

Thus today brings a special reminder.

How lucky I am to have this day, and this life,

with you, darling daughter.

Happy Birthday!

P.S. I found Bath Time this most heart-warming poem from Lisa M. that she wrote about bath time (and not bath time) with her son. It so speaks to me about a mother’s love and how much we always want to be their for our babies whether they are babies or not. Enjoy!

Planning to leave before saying “goodbye”

Today we signed our newly created Wills. Our original goal was to have them done before Gracelyn turned one. We pushed that back to June and might not have made it by her second birthday, but here we are with signed and notarized documents that detail what we wish to happen in the event of our death(s) — yep, I wrote “in the event of” as if it might not happen. Which reminds me of why so many avoid doing these documents at all (they bring up questions and thoughts that can feel very uncomfortable). I’m grateful they are complete and know that they will help those we leave behind when we die (yep, I’m admitting that I will die one day — a long time from now, but I know I am mortal).

While wills are valuable to almost anyone, parents with “minor” children really have a lot to think about when crafting their final wishes. To me, thinking of Gracelyn’s future without us in it is incredibly painful. Though I look forward to her growing into a mature, interdependent adult (one day a long time from now), I truly treasure this chance to walk on the same earth as my little girl. Her presence is oxygen to my spirit and the joy I feel simply knowing her cannot be contained. I want to be around for her life…for her…for me, and yet, at some point I won’t be here physically.

My mom died when I was 21 — which was almost two decades ago so I’m approaching that point of living longer without her than I did with her. Though I don’t miss her acutely as I did in those first few years following her death, nor do I often consciously think of her absence, I know I wish I could be sharing my daughter with her and my mama-self with her too. I would be grateful if she was still physically present in my life AND my experience with her death has helped me prepare for my own death and better live my life in the gap between today and my final day.

Death has helped me

  • Let go of fears about tomorrow, next week, next year, or “someday.” The days will come and go, but much of what I’m scared to have happen will only ever exist in my mind. And some of it can’t be prepared for ahead of time anyway so fear just wastes the present.
  • Savor life and choose what matters. True, I’m fortunate to have a spouse who can and will work at a good wage, yet we’ve made very intentional choices that make it easy for me to be a full-time mama. The way I know to “stave off death” is to enjoy each present moment to the fullest extent possible.
  • Love now. Love now. Love now. Mainly this means to me that I tell people in the moment that they matter to me, that I love them, that their life blesses mine, that they’ve affected me in a positive way.
  • Build relationships not things. This is one that I get to constantly practice, especially since it’s so counter-cultural. We have no TV (though still more screens than we need) and we spend lots of our family time in intimate contact with each other (reading snuggled up on the couch, tickling and playing chase, rubbing noses and toeses, cooking together, gardening, splashing in puddles, etc.).
  • Talk and share. When my mom was sick I didn’t want to talk about her death for fear that she might think I’d lost hope. She didn’t talk about her death either, so that meant that plenty went unsaid and I ended up with unanswered questions. While I don’t plan to talk with Gracelyn frequently about death or burden her with things that she’s not developmentally ready for, I do take time to write in her journal and otherwise record things that I want her to know for posterity.
  • Nurture our non-physical connection. While I know I’m spirit and Gracelyn is too, I crave physical contact (or evidence of that physical presence like a voice across a telephone line). Though there is fascinating evidence that even our physical selves are intertwined, I want to foster a greater spiritual connection to my daughter. This is important to me so that even when our physical separation comes (the ones that happen now or the “big one” that happens at death), we’ll still be bound together in a real and active way.
  • Be real. I want Gracelyn to know me and I want to know her. Sure there may be things that I feel uncomfortable revealing or may even wish I didn’t know about her, but I think that authenticity doesn’t fade with time and I want those memories to linger long after I’ve recycled my body.

I don’t really ever want to say “goodbye” for a final time to my beloved child (or anyone else I love, for that matter). But the day and time will come to do precisely that — if I’m lucky enough to get that special chance. Completing our Wills was a vitally important step in planning for a future of which I won’t be a part. It’s one less “to do” on my “prepare for your own death” list. Now, comes the fun and hopefully very long part of living this life with Gracelyn as if each day was both the very last one together and the very first too. Here’s intending to complete this “to do” with gratitude and awe for even getting to be on this journey together at all.

“I was on a train on a rainy day. The train was slowing down to pull into a station. For some reason, I became intent on watching the raindrops on the window. Two separate drops, pushed by the wind, merged into one for a moment and then divided again – each carrying with it a part of the other. Simply by that momentary touching, neither was what it had been before. And as each one went on to touch other raindrops, it shared not only itself, but what it had gleaned from the other. I saw this metaphor many years ago and it is one of my most vivid memories. I realized then that we never touch people so lightly that we do not leave a trace.”

~ Peggy Tabor Millin, Mary’s Way

(On a strange note, my mom’s birthday is tomorrow. She would have been 69. Maybe that’s where this post came from and I was simply the transcriptionist.)

Staying present to your child right now

Here’s an excerpt from Continually Falling in Love with Your Child that I wrote for my professional site HeartLedParenting.com. I’d appreciate it if you’d drop by, read the piece, and comment if you feel so moved.

“It’s so easy to rely on our history with someone and forget to keep paying attention. Though we often say it in words — ‘They grow up so fast.’ — we seem to sometimes act as if who are children are is frozen in time.”

Fathers Day Quotations

A few quotations for Fathers’ Day . . .

He didn’t tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it. ~Clarence Budington Kelland

My father used to play with my brother and me in the yard. Mother would come out and say, “You’re tearing up the grass.” “We’re not raising grass,” Dad would reply. “We’re raising boys.” ~Harmon Killebrew

A father carries pictures where his money used to be. ~Author Unknown

When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years. ~Author unknown

Old as she was, she still missed her daddy sometimes. ~Gloria Naylor

It kills you to see them grow up. But I guess it would kill you quicker if they didn’t. ~Barbara Kingsolver

Making the decision to have a child is momentous It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body. ~Elizabeth Stone