Moments

It’s quiet in the house. I’m sitting in the living room, by the tree with the lights. I can see the lights on the deck outside. I just nursed e.e. to bed. He laid for a long time on my chest, his little body twisted to one side, his head lolled to one shoulder exposing his soft neck folds, his face breathing right into my pajama sleeve. Then when he fed he stayed latched forever, his little face burrowed in like he never wanted to leave, wearing his green Christmas onesie with his hair sticking up from his head. I had to pry him off to lie him down in the crib for the night.

When I put E to bed tonight I sang her Jill Phillip’s “I Am” and she stopped me after every phrase to ask what it meant- what is “lay your head”? a “chest”? “the future”? and I explained. Then I sang “Holy Holy” over and over and told her we all loved her a lot, and that God loved her more than all the possessions in the world.

D did a really nice thing for me today; he watched the kids so I could go to a hair salon for three hours. I permed my hair into waves. Felt totally out of place sitting in a salon, not sure if the perm will stay anyway, but it was fun to do something different for myself.

Christmas holiday with the family so far is different. I sort of miss the days we would hang out into the evenings having the sort of long conversations by candlelight where a few people usually cry. We played as many versions of salad bowl as we wanted, baked and ate at our leisure. Now we are leaving after dinner to put kids to bed, spending our time making sure no one gets injured and not too much food gets spilled on the floor, saying “no, we share” and “shoot, where’s e.e.?” (who is usually sitting quietly peering around or put down to nap on a random flat surface) and “can you watch them/hold her/cook this while I change the diaper/grab the sippy cup/nurse?”

It’s sort of chaotic. It’s constantly loud. And it’s probably not going to end anytime soon. We’re going strong at a rate of one new baby every year, sometimes two if you count in utero. Honestly, it’s weird how my parents raised all these highly-educated girls who then just want to not work and have tons of kids.

Every Christmas I try to have a moment. A personal worship moment. I remember them through the years: walking across the lit-up Lawn at night, looking out the airplane window while flying home for Christmas break, attending a Christmas Eve service in California while suspecting I was pregnant for the first time, listening to a song about Mary in the corner of my parents’ living room. In case I don’t get another moment in the craziness this year, I’m taking this one. I’m thinking back on the year, which feels lifetimes long with three moves, job changes, and a new baby. I’m thinking ahead to the coming year, with hopefully one last big adjustment before a time of more stability. I’m thinking of how our marriage, our family have changed. And then I’m just thinking about nothing. Just God. Thank you, God, for never changing, for always being there when I look. And, let's face it, then I’m thinking, better sleep since he’ll want to nurse again in a few hours.

Grandpa

e.e.

It's inevitable; I've taken one photo of him for about every fifty I took of her at the same stage. It's not that I don't love you the same, I tell him, I'm just too exhausted running around after your sister. This one is a few weeks into life. I love the way his hands flutter around like they have a life of their own.