More Toddler than Baby

Our little peanut has certainly grown, even while she remains tiny. At 20 months, she still wears 12-month size clothes. She’s at least three inches shorter than I was at her age. And she might weigh in at about 22 pounds now. Since she now walks and runs everywhere, she has thinned out. In fact, she needs suspenders. Cloth diapers keep her pants up (mostly), but since we’re attempting to potty train…let’s just say panties don’t come in “extremely tiny” and so we spend quite a bit of time pausing to pull everything back up.

Size has little to do with age, however. Now that we are closer to being two than having turned one, our attitude is much more toddler-like. Our vocabulary enlarges every day. We’re forever relating things in our little world with other things. (For example, when I asked her where her tongue is, she first pointed to the tongue in her mouth and then pointed to the tongue on her shoe.) She knows her favorite books by their titles (or part of their titles). She knows where all her toys belong to be put away. She LOVES to color – scribbling the paper full of whatever her mind is imagining. And her stuffed animals are her devoted companions, playing games with her or looking out the window at the stars, snow and trash truck.

She also knows her own little mind. She’s had that trait from very early on. She knows what she likes and doesn’t like – what she wishes to do and what she doesn’t want to do. And she’s certainly not afraid to let you know. Although not big enough to climb up on the furniture, she has climbed out of the bathtub. She has a “I-can-do-this-by-myself” independent attitude. (Mmh…wonder where she got that from…) She knows how to stall, especially at bedtime. She cuddles up in my arms, declaring, “Hug! Hug!” – this wiggling little girl who has NEVER been a cuddler. When I call her name to come, she calls her name back at me, “Emmy!” instead of coming. And if she doesn’t want to obey, a fit is in order.

And so our baby is growing up – just in time to make room for the new baby!

Christmas!!!

At 20 months, it’s hard to say if Emry completely understands all the wonder, and fun, and excitement, and anticipation of Christmas. And yet…

Many people asked if Santa Claus was coming to our house. I don’t think we’ll ever really get into the whole Santa thing, but she did know who he was. She knows he says, “Ho, ho, ho!”.  She recognizes him in her Mickey Mouse Christmas movie. And she thinks he lives outside (because she relates him to the blow up Santas she sees in people’s lawns). That’s about all we know of Santa.

She LOVES Christmas trees! The first one she saw was at my doctor’s office. She thought it was the most wonderful thing she had ever seen: balls hanging on a tree. A week later, we got our own tree. She loves it, making sure she waves good-bye to it every night before bed. She’s also very good with it and obediently looks and, maybe, touches the ornaments but does not pull them off.

Grandpa and Grandma Sturm gave us a Little People nativity. We made it part of our morning Bible story to read the Christmas story a few mornings a week while we “acted” out the story with all the characters. I wondered if it was sinking in at all, especially as each character from Mary to the angel to the wise men had to “ride” the donkey to the stable. But the other day when I told her it was Bible story time, she toddled into the living room and started pulling everything out, showing me “Mary – Mama” and “Baby Jesus” and the “Wise’en” and matching them to the pictures in her book. Yea!

And while we didn’t even seem to notice the gifts under the tree, when it came time to open them Sunday morning, well… For the first time, we completely understood what we were about when it came to unwrapping. And we enjoyed watching her discover her new things just as much as she enjoyed opening them.

Eating the treat from our stocking.

Opening gifts!
  

Helping Papa play with his new toy.

All dressed for church.

Eating Christmas dinner.

The Holy Spirit

This time of year, we focus much of our attention on the second Person of the Trinity – Christ. From Christmas carols, to Christmas sermons, to reading the Christmas story with Emry several times a week while we “act” it out with her Little People nativity scene. (In her version of the story, every single character must have a turn riding the donkey to the stable.) So, it’s brought a different perspective to read A.W. Tozer’s Alive in the Spirit during the holidays.

I often forget when I read Tozer that he has been dead for well over 50 years. His concerns for the church and the way of so-called Christianity are as pertinent today as they were when he wrote his simple, easy-to-read exhortations. That probably shouldn’t surprise me. King Solomon wrote thousands of years ago that there “is nothing new under the sun”. Our conflict with the sinful world might change skins (like a chameleon), but it’s still a sinful world.

In his Alive in the Spirit, Tozer challenges his readers to focus on the often overlooked third Person of the Trinity – the Holy Spirit. In our focus on Christ’s work on our behalf and the Father’s sovereignty in bringing Christ to that work, we often do overlook the Comforter and Guide that has been left to direct and mold our lives while we remain on earth. It brings to mind John Bunyan’s image of the Holy Spirit in his book The Holy War – a once admired old leader in the city of Mansoul, shunted and left to grow older and silent in his forgotten castle while the souls of Mansoul go to ruin. A very sad state of affairs.

And, I wonder, is it often my state? How often do I consider the work of the Holy Spirit? Do I shun His comfort and guidance, closing Him away on a daily basis with my “I got this” attitude? Tozer will certainly make you consider your perspective of the Holy Spirit – a good reminder not just during Christmas but all year long.

This book was provided by Bethany House Publishers for review purposes only.

Christmas Ornaments

A couple of weekends ago, we went and got our Christmas tree. After much debate over real versus fake, we decided real would be better this year. Next year, we’ll hopefully be a bit more settled and can take time to find the right fake tree. For since I’ve never had a fake tree, I believe in the importance of a good one.

Anyhow, we bundled up and went over to the tree lot at the local volunteer Fire Department. I was surprised that we were the only ones there, although one of the firemen told me it would be their busiest weekend. (I guess lots of people put up their trees when Navy plays Army…although, let’s not talk about it. We’re still grieving…) We took our time finding the “perfect” tree. Mostly, Ed looked. I chased Emry about, who didn’t seem overly impressed with the whole venture. However, we did get to see the brand new fire trucks and got a blueberry donut in the deal. That we got a tree was a side note in Emry’s book.

After we had chosen our tree and left, it must have gotten busy because it was 1:30 before the firemen delivered it to our house. By then, Emry needed to go down for a nap as she needed to rest up for her cousins, aunt, uncle and grandparents coming over that evening. So, after she saw the tree set up and the firemen left, I put her down for a nap while Ed and I decorated.

It’s come to the point of my life when I can say I have had certain things for “decades” not just “years”. So it is with Christmas ornaments. Despite that fact, it is amazing how I forget ornaments from one year to the next. And yet, my forgetfulness also makes opening up the box of ornaments and pulling them out one at a time a great deal of fun and memories.

This year, it was the ornaments from my grandmother that have meant the most to me. I have only a handful of them, mostly bought at craft shows I’m guessing. But each one has my name on it (and the year) written in my grandmother’s handwriting and often says “Grandmother” on the back. Tears came to my eyes when I pulled them out, hanging them on my tree and knowing that I would not see that handwriting this year on any envelopes or packages. A piece missing from the Christmas I have always known…

Next year, hopefully, Emry will be of an age when she can hang the ornaments on the tree, helping me unpack her handful (while trying to keep her brother or sister away from them). They will become pieces of her Christmas, reminders of aunts, and grandparents, and all the memories she can hold as she gets older. Pieces of joy, and hope, and love.

Christmas is, truly, a wonderful time of the year!

Our First Snow

Last year we hardly had a winter to speak of. A couple of weekends before Christmas, we were walking about in downtown Pittsburgh admiring the Christmas lights with nothing more than long sleeve shirts on. We never even bought Emry a coat. I just put her in fuzzy pajamas and a hoodie the time I took her out in the one good snow we had (which was all of a couple of inches). After all, she wasn’t crawling let alone walking. She just sat on the towel I put down and let me take a few pictures of her first snow, even though she wasn’t impressed. In fact, she didn’t seem to like snow at all.

First snow last winter – happy to be out, but mostly unimpressed.

Fast forward a year to a really good three-inch snow this week and that seems to have changed. When I showed her the snow falling outside our windows, she was mesmerized. She just stood there watching it. Then she would point in wonder and declare, “Snow!” We didn’t have time to investigate the wonder of snow that day, but we put on our layers the next day to explore: boots, snowpants, coat, mittens. It’s a collection of mismatched whatevers. The snowpants belonged to one of my sisters and are too long and extremely loose at the top. But they can be rolled up in the legs and the 6 to 9 month size coat fits perfectly to hide the overreaching straps. The mittens are a little large, too, but she doesn’t seem to mind them. Of course, put all that on and it’s a little hard to move. Snowball fights are certainly a thing of the future – we can barely walk!

First snow this winter – yea, we love being outside!

Nor were we much interested in walking at first. I helped her outside and there she stood on the concrete slab, staring at the snow as if it would jump up and bite her. Even when I stomped around in it, she didn’t dare move. Finally, I picked her up and stood her up in the midst of it. For a moment, she still didn’t move. I even wondered if the tears would come next. But she must have decided that it wasn’t going to hurt her for off she went, trudging away down to the sidewalk where we walked up the road and admired the neighbor’s snowman. As it was quite cold, we didn’t stay out and explore the wonders of snow for very long, but she was quite happy with her first introduction, jabbering on as I undressed her of how she had been “ ‘side snow!” (interpretation: outside in the snow).

Hopefully we have many more opportunities to enjoy snow this season. I’m hoping (as I do every winter) for piles of it. And even though it’s a pain to pull on so many layers, it is worth it. Maybe we’ll even build a snowman!

Memories of…Jenny!

Jenny is the Christmas baby in our house. I remember quite clearly that when she was born, the tree was up, her stocking was sitting on Mom’s sewing table waiting to have a name placed on it, and there were gifts under the tree for a baby we didn’t know much about. I was eleven years old, a couple of months from turning twelve, and artistic Katey was nine. Together we were just old enough to use a hot glue gun by ourselves and – probably – get into all kinds of mischief as we discovered making hairbows, ornaments and I can’t remember what all. I just remember we had come across this shiny blue garland like stuff that seemed ridiculous to use in wrapping or decorating, but it sure did make nice hairbows. Each of us girls had one to wear to visit our new sister in the hospital.  I think we even brought Jenny a small one, although she certainly didn’t have enough hair to hold it in!

That soon changed. Jenny’s hair came in a light red/auburn color and it came in thick and heavy. She’s still sensitive about the fountain-like pony tails sitting on top of her head that Mom put it in to keep it out of her face that. We jokingly called her “Pebbles”. All that hair despite Abby attempting to steal it by pulling chunks of it out for no apparent reason. (They sat next to each other in their carseats in the van until Mom moved Jenny and saved her from a lifetime of baldness. For no reason at all, Abby would reach over and gleefully pull out chunks of Jenny’s hair, leaving poor Jenny in tears – and probably in need of therapy.)

Growing up, Jenny always loved music. Before she possessed her toy piano, she would pull the stool over to the windowsill and “play” her windowsill “piano”. She loved to cut paper. If Jenny had a pair of scissors in hand, no piece of paper was safe from being turned into confetti. Born at ten pounds and nine ounces, Jenny has always been the tallest and biggest of us girls yet she was the one who wished to be a ballerina. Jenny always had a huge imagination, attached to easy forgetfulness. She so often seemed to live in her own little world, yet Jenny is the one who taught herself to ride a bike, tie her shoe and sew doll clothes.

Music and sewing are Jenny’s passions. Anytime of day or night, you can hear piano music at my parent’s house or the sewing machine vibrating through the walls and floor. She is always at work on some project, sometimes for herself but just as often for someone else. Jenny would give you the shirt off her back and kept the little girls at church supplied with enough clothes for their dolls to last a lifetime or two.

And now she is 25 years old…where have those years gone?

Happy Birthday, Jenny!

Lingering

Before Thanksgiving, I think I’m the guilty party of bringing home a cold. Emry caught it and for a few days, she was sniffling and not her usual active, happy self. Before we went to my parents, though, Emry and I seemed to have gotten rid of what we had although Ed came down with something he probably picked up at work. But it’s that time of year and we weren’t the only ones sick. For as my nephew Jay proclaimed to my mom when he spoke to her on the phone on their way to Indiana, “Grandma, I have bad germs!”

And, so, he proceeded to share them. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe his brother Curtis did. Or maybe my other nephew Benny did. Or it could have even been my brother Caleb who had to have a flu shot the weekend we arrived (he’s in the Marines) and was quite sick by Wednesday. (Typical. Still can’t figure out why people actually want a shot to make them sick.) Of course, I’m sure we shared what we had as well. After all, four kids playing with and chewing on the same toys? And we are trying to teach them to share…

So, Emry came down with round two. Then I did. This one has been far worse. My poor little girl wakes up with crusty stuff sealing her eyes shut and covering her face as she’s tried to wipe her nose in her sleep. She hasn’t been eating like her normal self, she wakes up at night and wants to be held and rocked (highly abnormal) and she simply doesn’t have the energy to run about all day long, toys trailing in her wake. She also has a cough. Now that I’m in the midst of it, I understand. I’ve glued a box of tissues to my side, everyone I talk to remarks that I sound congested, I sleep sitting up in order to breath and I can’t smell or taste anything – a problem I have NEVER had with a cold in all my nearly 37 years of life. It’s been miserable.

And worse…it lingers. I can get over a cold in a matter of days. The two colds Emry’s had previously lasted, at most, three days. But I’m not sure this one is ever going to end. Every day I wake up praying I don’t have to spend half the day attempting to surreptitiously wipe Emry’s face with a warm cloth so it’s finally clean by the time I head to work. Every day I hope I can stop carrying the tissue box around. Every day I hope Ed will stop hacking and we can both get some sleep. But how many days has it been since we got home from my parents? I’m beginning to loose faith that this will ever end…

And thus why I’m so far behind on everything else – like blogging. But maybe next week I’ll catch up. Maybe next week I’ll finish wrapping Christmas gifts. Maybe next week I’ll mop the kitchen floor. Maybe next week we’ll just feel better!