Finally: A New Name for the BabyGirl

And it’s about dang time! 

I’ve been thinking that if a new reader joined us, he/she would probably be very confused that my oldest child is called BabyGirl. A new reader would likely expect “BabyGirl” to refer to the younger child, not the older. And now, even my younger child isn’t a baby anymore, so her older sibling most certainly can’t be a baby. 

Listening to her talk also confirms that she is a BabyGirl no longer. She says things like, “Personally, I prefer to play outside today.” And, “The thing is Mama, that I really don’t like zucchini.” Yesterday at church she told the nursery worker, “I’m concerned that the boo-boo on my finger is a splinter.” 

She can drag a chair over to the kitchen counter, climb on top of the cabinets and help herself to the stash of remaining candy canes. She can put her coat, snow boots, and mittens on all by herself. She can pretty accurately diagnose the source of Bright Eyes’ distress when she starts crying: “She’s probably hungry, Mama. You should give her a snack.” Or today, “I think her teeth are bothering her. Do you want me to get some ibu’s for her?” 

Ever since she hit her half-birthday and the aliens returned her soul, she has been such a joy! She says the funniest things. She is an amazing helper. When something brings her joy, she becomes really huggy. 

Therefore, she shall now be known to us as Sunny.  

At first I was hesitant to call her that. The name Sunny might give off the impression that she is always happy. And as a girl whose emotions are often bigger than she is, that is not the case. She has her fair share of storm clouds. If you think about it though, even the sun itself isn’t always sunny. It goes down at night. It usually hides when it rains. It’s gone for months at a time during the winter.  

When it comes to the sun, some days are sunnier than others, and it’s the same way with the BabyGirl. Currently, her rainy season is over for a while and now her days are full of light. The Professor and I are soaking up all these warm rays like we’re on a Caribbean cruise.  

On Christmas Day, Sunny and I went for a walk with my dad. Sunny wore her brand new pink ballet princess dress, which she LOVED. We had a blast walking around the picturesque beach town, exploring all kinds of new things. It was a wonderful experience. She was free to simply enjoy life.  She was the quintessential child who takes in everything around her with delight. We walked by a sidewalk café and she made my dad play pretend restaurant. She served him make-believe food with a make-believe fork. But the pretend café only had one fork that day, and there were two of them eating, so in the end she had to take back his fork and he had to eat with his hands. 

When we moved on from the café, a woman walking a small dog passed us on the sidewalk. Sunny hesitated, because you never know if a new dog is friendly or not. The woman smiled and said, “This is Sparky, and he loves kids. Especially princesses.” 

It was funny because I had forgotten that Sunny was wearing her ballet princess dress. But that’s how it goes when you are a little girl. If you have a dress that you love, you wear it seven days a week. If you like your new My Little Pony, you take it with you everywhere. If you have a favorite book, you read it every single night.  

The things that she loves, she goes at with gusto. The people that she loves are forever in her heart. She definitely brings light and warmth to our family. She is our little sunshine!

Maiden Voyage of the New Van

We are now the proud owners of a minivan! We bought a van from the good people at Warehouse Auto and then promptly put that sucker to work driving 2,458 miles on a big ole Christmas road trip.

Taking two small kids on a trip of that magnitude was a huge undertaking that required weeks of preparation. It had been two years since we last visited our homeland in Dixieland, and we were more than ready to go back! Bright Eyes had several great-grandparents who were anxious to meet her for the first time.

The trip was both the best of times and the worst of times, as is typical of long-awaited events of that nature. It was exhausting and draining on all of us to be on the road so much. However, in the midst of so many travel difficulties were periods of great joy. When we could finally sit still and just be, it was sheer bliss. The beach is always a great place for being. Our time there was very restorative.

Our girls saw the ocean for the first time and flew a kite for the first time. The BabyGirl bonded with Granny over biscuits and Bright Eyes established a connection with Granddaddy over apple slices. We breathed in the sweet sea air. We ate tons of seafood and i actually liked raw oysters!

The beach is a very, VERY long way from the Kingdom of the Cornstalks, so we were fortunate to have the opportunity to go there. It was a special time that i will always remember. It was a true vacation in that our usual cares and concerns about day-to-day struggles were exchanged for beautiful scenery and meaningful relationships. And the food! Granny's cornbread, Kay's turkey, my dad's grouper sandwiches—the whole week was delicious!

After a week at the beach, we continued our trek to spend a week with The Professor's family. Our time there was a blur of go, go, go to see as many family members as possible. Lare & Amy were so hospitable to have a big group over to dinner with children running around all over the place. We had Christmas festivities at The Judge's house with kids frantically tearing into presents. Grandma Jackie and Grandpa Lou had us over for a wonderful visit in their home. We were delighted to see Grandmother in her new assisted living apartment. Allison helped me get caught up on Top Chef, and our girls played with their cousins to their hearts' content.

When it comes down to it, an undertaking of this level is simply not possible without a good deal of help. There were many people along the way who eased our burden by looking after us. We are so thankful to the people who took the time to notice our needs and lend us a hand.

For example: On our drive to Lare & Amy's house, we took a winding, curvy, hilly road. The Professor made the comment, "You don't see roads like this in the Kingdom of the Cornstalks!" Immediately from the backseat we heard the sound of poor Bright Eyes throwing up. She had never in her life driven on hills and curves, and she was not accustomed to the motion of it. We therefore arrived at our destination with a child covered in vomit. Amy dropped what she was doing to dig up some clean clothes for Bright Eyes to wear.

After dinner the kids were all playing and the BabyGirl asked me to come upstairs to help her with something. While i was up there, Amy came up to rotate some laundry. It struck me as kind of an odd time to be doing laundry while hosting a houseful of people, but ya know, whatever. I was actually pretty impressed with the multi-tasking she displayed; i would never have remembered about my laundry with all those people over.

When it was time for us to leave, she said, "Oh! Let me grab Bright Eyes' coat!" She presented us with a freshly-washed, vomit-free coat hot out of the dryer and smelling like lavender breeze. Turns out the load of laundry that i was criticizing her for was MY DAUGHTER'S COAT.

I was blown away by the thoughtfulness of it. She saved me so much hassle by washing it then and there. Also, that particular coat is special because it's been in the family for decades. I was so glad it had been washed promptly so that it didn't stain.

It was a small act of kindness that made such an impact.

Bright Eyes is in that stage of getting into EVERYTHING. It is so much fun because she is exploring non-stop and learning new things every moment. She has to get her hands on each new thing she sees: What does it feel like? What does it taste like? Can I bang it on the table?

I really love this age. The caveat, though, is that she has to be watched like a hawk 24-7. It requires a lot of energy to take her into someone else's home, where she grabs the glass ornaments off the Christmas tree, splashes in the cat's water bowl, digs through the trash, pulls on the table cloth, and knocks over every drinking glass she encounters. Uncle Stan was so attentive to our needs and made the experience of keeping up with her so much easier. I was trying to cut Bright Eyes' food into small pieces while holding wiggly, squiggly Bright Eyes in my lap at the dinner table. The task necessitated six hands. Stan saw me from across the room and came over to cut her food for me.

Throughout the evening, he continued to bring me things so that i didn't have to get up from my post of watching or holding Bright Eyes. I had mentioned that i like cashews, so he brought me cashews. He came to my seat to offer me coffee. When i said that i could only drink decaf at that time of night, he offered to make me decaf.

The job of watching Bright Eyes at a big family dinner is one that prohibits you from participating with the group. While everyone else is eating dinner, you are feeding her. While everyone else has dessert, you are in the other room changing a diaper. While everyone else is engaged in conversation, you are chasing her from room to room. Uncle Stan saw all that and made sure i wasn't alone.

I was so inspired by Uncle Stan. He serves everyone around him so effortlessly. It's truly a gift. I do not inherently possess this quality, but i long to develop it.

One of my favorite names of God is El Roi, the God Who Sees. In order to effectively help someone, you have to see their needs. Amy saw that Bright Eyes needed a clean coat to go home in. Uncle Stan saw that i couldn't take care of myself while keeping up with Bright Eyes. My dad saw that we could never afford a beach vacation.

So many people over the course of the two weeks saw our needs and met them. Things like that are what turn a grueling road trip into an experience of God's character.

Peace and Strengthening

I'm here to tell you that all the rumors about 3-year-olds are true.

It's common knowledge these days that "three is the new two," but until you experience it personally, you don't know what you are in for. Three started out with a bang around here. The birthday candles had barely cooled off when night terrors threw our whole household into crisis.

From there, it snowballed.

At the kick-off of the new semester of a mom's Bible study that I attend, the icebreaker question was "What's your favorite thing about being a mom?"

Everything inside me withered. Please don't ask me that question right now.

The other moms proceeded with their flowery and inspiring answers:

"Snuggling."

"My son sitting in my lap while I read to him."

"How can I choose just one favorite? I love it all!"

Give me a break. I couldn't even take the sarcastic route and say "Bedtime," because that wouldn't be true. I despise bedtime. The only thing worse than waketime is nighttime. I nearly become an atheist every night at 7:00pm.

Instead I replied slowly, "The truth is, there's not a whole lot about being a mom that is enjoyable right now."

After a moment of awkward silence, they shrugged it off and moved on. They went home to snuggles and story time while I went home thinking that maybe i'm just not cut out for this.

Until one day, glory be, we had a breakthrough.

Our church has been studying the book of Acts. Recently we read about Saul's conversion. As a result of Saul no longer travelling around killing Christians, life got easier for the followers of Jesus. Here's how it's described:

Then the church throughout Judea, Galilee and Samaria enjoyed a time of peace and was strengthened. Living in the fear of the Lord and encouraged by the Holy Spirit, it increased in numbers.

On the BabyGirl's half birthday, something clicked. It was as if her mind had been abducted by aliens and held captive on the mothership for the past six months, and was finally returned back to its rightful owner. Someone drew back the curtains and let in some light. She became human again.

A few winters ago I was listening to the radio while riding to work at the ungodly hour of 5am. Five o'clock in the morning in the dead of winter is miserably cold. Heck, the middle of the day is miserably cold in the dead of winter. But 5am is a dark, lonely, windy, ungodly cold. The radio hosts were celebrating because that particular day was the shortest day of the year.

Now, the shortest day of the year might not immediately sound like a cause for celebration. Pause for a second to consider the implications: after the shortest day, each subsequent day gets progressively longer. Tomorrow will have more sunlight than today. And the day after tomorrow will have more still. And there will be more the day after that, and the day after that, until—a full day's worth of sunlight! Warmth! Light! Life! Leaves and chirping birds and cookouts at the beach!

Crossing the shortest day of the year off the calendar is the best feeling in the world. It can only get brighter from there. It can only bring you farther from darkness and closer to light. Yes, tomorrow will still be short. It will still be cold. But it won't be as short as today.

That is what I am fervently hoping in regards to the BabyGirl's half birthday. Three is halfway done. Each day will get a few more moments of sunlight from here on out. Here comes the sun, and I say it's alright.

Already the sunny-ness of her personality is returning. She's back to her old affectionate self. She runs up to me and gives me a hug for no reason. She tells me how glad she is that we are spending time together. She pats Bright Eyes' back and says she's glad they are sisters. She is eager to help. She proactively meets the needs of others without being asked/cajoled/threatened.

We are enjoying a time of peace and being strengthened. The threat to our lives has been removed, and now we can breathe again. We are free to move about the country. I feel like the woman who found her lost coin. "Rejoice with me, friends! I have found my lost coin!" I have found my lost BabyGirl, and she is a treasure.
 

Playing Talitha

²¹ When Jesus had again crossed over by boat to the other side of the lake, a large crowd gathered around him while he was by the lake. ²² Then one of the synagogue leaders, named Jairus, came, and when he saw Jesus, he fell at his feet. ²³ He pleaded earnestly with him, “My little daughter is dying. Please come and put your hands on her so that she will be healed and live.” ²⁴ So Jesus went with him. . . . ³⁵ While Jesus was still speaking, some people came from the house of Jairus, the synagogue leader. “Your daughter is dead,” they said. “Why bother the teacher anymore?” ³⁶ Overhearing what they said, Jesus told him, “Don’t be afraid; just believe.” ³⁷ He did not let anyone follow him except Peter, James and John the brother of James. ³⁸ When they came to the home of the synagogue leader, Jesus saw a commotion, with people crying and wailing loudly. ³⁹ He went in and said to them, “Why all this commotion and wailing? The child is not dead but asleep.” ⁴⁰ But they laughed at him. After he put them all out, he took the child’s father and mother and the disciples who were with him, and went in where the child was. ⁴¹ He took her by the hand and said to her, “Talitha koum!” (which means “Little girl, I say to you, get up!”). ⁴² Immediately the girl stood up and began to walk around (she was twelve years old). At this they were completely astonished. ⁴³ He gave strict orders not to let anyone know about this, and told them to give her something to eat.

 

-Mark 5

 

Today while i was cooking dinner, The Professor played with the girls in the living room. From the kitchen, i overheard the BabyGirl tell The Professor, "I'm going to lay down over here and sleep, and i'll be Talitha. Then you will be Jesus, and you will say to me, 'Talitha, come!' and i'll get up! Then i'll eat. Okay, Daddy—I mean Jesus?"

 

I was pretty amazed, because i didn't think she'd ever heard that Bible story in such a degree of detail. I know that she really likes it in the Jesus Storybook Bible. I haven't read that section to her in a while, but i didn't remember it mentioning Talitha koum.

 

Well as she continued to play this game, it became apparent that she thought Talitha was the little girl's name. All through dinner, we had to refer to her as Talitha. If we slipped up and called her the BabyGirl, she immediately corrected us: "No! I'm not the BabyGirl! I'm Talitha!"

 

I was then christened "Talitha Mama," and Bright Eyes was "Talitha Bright Eyes." The Professor split his time between being Jesus and "Talitha Daddy." For whatever reason, he felt uncomfortable playing the role of Jesus. He kept trying to get out of it, and she kept insisting that he was Jesus. I volunteered to be Jesus for a little while, but she didn't go for it. A red-haired person cannot play the Lily Maid, and a mama cannot play Jesus.

 

This was how she insisted on eating her dinner:

 

She laid her head on the table and closed her eyes. Jesus told her, "Talitha come!" She raised her head triumphantly with a huge smile. We all exclaimed with joy, "She's alive!" Then she took one bite of her food, laid her head back down, and started over from the top.

 

After all 20 bites of this, she and i went outside to pick some of our neighbor's cherry tomatoes. At the beginning of the summer, those tomatoes were DELICIOUS. We looooved them. They were awesome to just pop in your mouth like grapes.

 

Now, however, they are oppressive. If i never see a cherry tomato again it will be too soon. The Nice Lady scolds us if there are too many red tomatoes on her plants. She comes over and gives us a stern talking-to about how we need to pick them right before they turn red so the critters don't get them. She really doesn't like to see red tomatoes hanging on the vines.

 

Today there were approximately 125 red cherry tomatoes, and i knew we were going to get in trouble if we didn't grab those suckers.

 

Well, at the beginning of the summer, the BabyGirl/Talitha really enjoyed picking tomatoes. Now she's totally over it. She gleefully consents whenever i ask her to accompany me, but she just uses it as a ruse to get outside. As soon as we are out there, she abandons me for her favorite project: digging in the dirt where our internet cable was buried, where we are desperately trying to grow new grass to cover up the dirt. Turns out, grass seed has a hard time sprouting when it is regularly tampered with. The weeds, however, are more than happy to propagate the grassless dirt.

 

It's somewhat of a pain in the butt to be forced into management of a grove of tomato vines that i didn't plant myself. They are all intertwined with 100 other things. One of which is this enormous 8-foot-tall allergy-inducing ragweed-looking thing. You need a beekeeper's outfit to interact with those tomato plants. Between the 8-foot ragweed and the millions of bugs, i come out of there itching, sneezing, and puffy-eyed.

 

While i was fighting with the Nice Lady's tomato vines, the BabyGirl was constantly running off. I yelled her name sternly in my I Mean Business voice. Then i would see an auburn tuft of hair pop up from behind a bush or around the corner of the garage, and a little voice replied, "I'm Talitha!!!" So then i would have to yell, "Talitha, get back over here or you're going inside!"

 

Finally i extracted a sufficient number of red tomatoes to hopefully abate the Nice Lady's wrath. We went inside and Jesus put Talitha to bed.

 

The Shedd Then and the Shedd Now

There are some beloved memories that we have of certain things we did with the BabyGirl when she was a baby. Also we have some favorite photos of those events that are in our family lexicon. We have a twinge of sadness, every now and then, that we live in a different state now and can't recreate those memories with our second daughter.

This past weekend though, we visited the BabyGirl's birthplace and were able to go to some of our favorite places! It was so wonderful to take the BabyGirl back to the Shedd, where we had so many wonderful times together. Thank you Mr. Dudich for making our Shedd visit possible! Here are some "then and now" photos for reminiscing and comparison:

Our little penguin at 14 months old

 

 

Our little penguin is now three!

 

 

 The BabyGirl about to climb the stairs

 

 

Bright Eyes climbing the stairs

 

 

 8-month-old BabyGirl smiling in front of the mural

 

 

 3-year-old BabyGirl smiling in front of the mural

 

 

The BabyGirl flying in the air at the Lake

 

 

Bright Eyes flying in the air at the Lake

 

 

The BabyGirl enjoyed both the Shedd and the Lake just as much (and probably more so) now as she did then! And Bright Eyes enjoyed the Shedd and the Lake as much as the BabyGirl did when she was Bright Eyes' age. And the Professor and i enjoyed seeing our girls enjoying themselves! It was a win-win for everyone!

 

Cashier Curiosity

There are approximately 300 reasons why i love my local Aldi. We have a very special relationship. It's such a happy and fulfilling place; sometimes you just expect everyone to burst into song.

Today i was there picking up ingredients to make a chicken stock for my poor puking BabyGirl. The cashier was a girl i've never seen before, which immediately aroused my curiosity. I know (or at least recognize) all the employees there. Who is the new girl? Recently they were accepting applications for a new hire, is she the one? But she was all on her own, without a preceptor hovering behind, telling her what to do. So if she's new, how is she off of orientation already? She was very confident and skilled in what she was doing; clearly she knew the ropes. She was also extremely outgoing and friendly to all the customers, so she also loved her job.

But who was she?

Another characteristic about her that was immediately obvious was her strong Great Lakes accent. People around here don't have much of an accent. She sounded like she was straight from Pure Michigan or the Green Bay area.

As i stood in line waiting my turn, i tried to decide if and how many questions i could\should ask her. I have a strict policy on not asking strangers the questions they probably get asked 1500 times a day. Being pregnant teaches you that. When i was working while pregnant with the BabyGirl, i had the type of job where my customers were completely new every day. I had an average of 20 customers during the course of the day. Multiply 20 people by 3 days per week by 9 months, that is a heck of a lot of times being asked how far along i was, what i was having, what's the name, are you having twins, my your belly is small!, Good Lord your belly is huge!, etc. As a result, i resolved not to put others through that torture.

If she is in fact the new Aldi employee, then i'd kind of like to introduce myself and welcome her to the team. My mother told me that at 3 years old, i loved talking to new people, and not much has changed.

As i was contemplating this, the [presumably] district manager walked/rushed past. He enthusiastically greeted her by name and said something about, "You getting along okay here?" or maybe "Things are pretty similar to what you're used to, you finding everything okay?" Whatever it was, it let me to believe that she was a substitute cashier filling in from a different store. It explained a lot! It explained why she was so good as what she was doing, but i'd never seen her at this location. Well this was fascinating to me, and raised several more questions.

In the end, i didn't say anything.

My next stop on the way home was Starbucks. Granny gave me a gift card on her visit, and then her friend gave me one too, so i've been enjoying Starbucks recently! I walked into Starbucks and the barista was wearing a hard C-collar.

Whoa, so interesting!

Of course i needed to know the full story on that. Was it a diving accident? A bad case of torticollis? Could he feel his toes?

But man, the poor guy must get asked about it 1500 times a day. A C-collar is infinitely more attention-grabbing than a Michigan accent. The former ER nurse had to know the full story, yet the formerly pregnant nurse would not permit herself to ask.

In the end, i couldn't bear it another minute. At least i waited until after he rang up my order. Turns out, it was a bicycle accident. He was riding his bike and got hit by a Trailblazer running a red light. It was a good story, i gotta say. I was glad i asked =]. The trouble was, i wanted to know more. What was the extent of his injuries? How long was he in the hospital? What is his specific cervical neck trouble?

He said that he was lucky to be doing as well as he was, which was the bona fide truth. He also said he was only about halfway through his recovery, which wasn't surprising.

The residents of the Kingdom of the Cornstalk are the type that mind their business. They don't ask questions. They are very reserved. So by their standards, you aren't supposed to ask cashiers what their deal is. I, however, love knowing people's story. I'm so interested in people!

Maybe i'm nosy, maybe i'm considerate; i can't decide.

I'll tell ya though, it allowed me to understand a little bit of why young kids ask so many questions! In the span of two errands, i was overwhelmed by questions, and felt like my 3-year-old. Who is that girl, Mama? Is she new here? Oh, she's not? Where is she from? What is she doing here? Why does she have that accent? Will she be here again? Why is that guy wearing that funny thing on his neck? What did the MRI show? Is his spinal cord bruised? Did he get Mannitol? Did he have to have surgery?

I guess i'll have to be patient with the incessant questioning, since i'm the exact same way myself!
 

Daddy's Girls

The BabyGirl is a major Daddy's girl.

And understandably so, he is a world-class Daddy. I happen to love him quite a bit myself, so I'm not surprised that she thinks he is great too.

Sometimes, however, i want to tell her, "Back off; he's mine! I had him first!" She seems to think that his sole purpose in life is to spend every waking moment with her. This doesn't always work for him. Or for me.

So with Bright Eyes i hoped that she would not be a Daddy's girl, cause it's getting to be stiff competition around here! Sometimes there isn't enough of him to go around.

Well guess what, Bright Eyes ADORES Daddy. Thinks he's the greatest thing ever. Whenever he enters the room, she drops whatever she is doing and insists that he hold her right that very minute. If i happen to be holding her when she lays eyes on Daddy, she leaps out of my arms like a flying squirrel. They are very sweet together. They have this cute thing where The Professor rubs his face on her cheek (kind of like a kitty does), and then she rubs her face on his cheek. Of course Daddy gives the best tickles and the best raspberries on her tummy.

It is an unbearable hardship for the BabyGirl to be parted from Daddy during the course of the workday. It then becomes an unbearable hardship for me to deal with the BabyGirl and her anguish. To cope, we have instituted two "Daddy Songs." The first one we composed a year ago, and it goes like this:

(to the tune of Frere Jacques)
Where is Daddy, Where is Daddy?
He's at work
He's at work
Daaaaaddy loves you
Daaaaaddy loves you
Yes he does, Yes he does

This past week, we came up with another one. It was about 4:30pm and Daddy was due home at 5:30. The BabyGirl had asked if Daddy was coming home. I told her that yes! he was coming soon. Well she needed to know the specifics of how soon is soon. Is he driving in his car right now? No. In that case, it's not soon at all and the devastation shall continue. We got into a debate of semantics. I could easily tell her that he would be home in an hour, but that had no significance to her. For some reason she kept saying, "Is he coming home soon, or sooner?" And thus our next Daddy song was born:

Soon and very soon, we are going to see our Daddy!
Soon and very soon, we are going to see our Daddy!
Soon and very soon, we are going to see our Daddy!
Hallelujah, hallelujah, we are going to see our Daddy!

He'll come home at 5 o'clock, we are going to see our Daddy!
He'll come home at 5 o'clock, we are going to see our Daddy!
He'll come home at 5 o'clock, we are going to see our Daddy!
Hallelujah, hallelujah, we are going to see our Daddy!

I think i sang that song for a solid hour until Daddy got home.

Recently the BabyGirl and Daddy have begun a tradition of eating popsicles together outside on the doorstep after dinner. When The Professor was little, Grandma Jackie always made homemade Koolaid popsicles. To this day, every time he visits Grandma Jackie's house (which regrettably is not very often), she always has homemade popsicles for him. Years and years ago she gave us a set of popsicle molds so we could make them too! The BabyGirl loves them and loves eating them together with Daddy even more. They made a game out of sneaking bites from the other's popsicle. It's a very special time that they share together.

Even though at times i'm kind of unwilling to share The Professor with these little usurpers, I'm unendingly greatful for what a great father he is. Both our girls love him with their whole hearts. Thank you Professor for your devotion to our family!