Ivy Hope, And Other Sweetnesses

In the name of not losing the sweet moments of life that seem to be slipping through my fingers as fast as so much sand at the beach, I'm writing a catch-all blog post: Ivy Grows + Family Moments = Things I Don't Want to Forget.

Ivy is a delight. She is the definition of delight. She sparkles.

She has her own sense of style, this one. With strong opinions about what she wears (and what she doesn't!), Ivy tends to pick out her own clothes and accessories, with a little help from me or Laina. She loves this octopus shirt, as well as anything with cupcakes or sparkles. And headbands! And bows! And SOCKS! And her sprinkle shoes (silver glittery Sunday shoes, which she wears all week long, with socks on). She does NOT like to wear jackets, even in freezing cold weather, but I win on this one.  She has specific ideas about hair too, choosing between a headband, one spout, two spouts, or a ponytail. 

(Ivy is my buddy--she says she's "Mama's baby!" unless she's saying she's "Daddy's baby!")

(She got herself dressed to go to Target, complete with sprinkle shoes and a backwards hat.)

Ivy is very verbal, able to say pretty much anything she wants. She regularly puts together four- or five- (or more!) word sentences. She has ideas and can communicate them well. And if all else fails, there's always a well-placed shriek.

Sometimes I rock her at night until she falls asleep. Other times, Jeremy walks her around the dark kitchen and sings to her. But before any singing can start, they have to look out the window and find "da bess-ed moon!" (the blessed moon)

Favorite toys: her Little People house and any baby dolls, but especially Laina's Bitty Baby. Nona got her the Little People dollhouse a few months ago and she plays with it all the time. For Mason's birthday, we got him the camper and we got enough specific Little People to make our family. They both LOVE this. They talk about the people as Little Iain, Little Laina, etc. Ivy likes Little Ivy and Little Mama best, and they do a lot of talking to each other (ADORABLE!) and kissing each other. And dancing, which looks like jumping up and down. I love watching her play, and seeing her amazing imagination come out.

And she's getting her own Bitty Baby for Christmas/Birthday. Don't tell. :)

(sweet baby sleeping)

Call me no fun, but I was relieved when our church decided not to do Trunk or Treat this year for Halloween. The costumes the kids wanted were SO complicated and I just didn't want to spend the time and money! But it ended up being perfect: we were invited to join friends at another local church's Trunk or Treat, with very little warning. If they kids wanted to go, they had to make up costumes with stuff we already had. Of course, they did, and had a great time!

Iain was Obi Wan, Cory was George Washington, Laina was a Rwandan princess (love it!), Mason was Batman, and Ivy was a minion.

Ivy has started to love dressing up. Kate Burton passed on these princess dresses to Laina years ago, and Ivy's using them now. She calls them her ballerinas.

Tell me these aren't the sweetest sisters you've ever seen?

Ivy is happy now to go to her class at church. She's been our easiest one, once she decided she wanted to go! One week, she was walking in the hall with me (I was hall coordinator that week), and she saw that, in her class, there was a green plastic chair. She wanted to sit on it. I stuck her in the class, and she sat there and ate puffs and looked at books. And she's been happy to go to class ever since.

This is one of my favorite pictures of my girl. Except that she's so BIG. My heart!

Meanwhile, out in the yard, the kids play nonstop. This is the latest thing: a fort that takes up almost the whole side yard. They ADORE it and work on it all the time. I'm sure the neighbors love us.

Donuts with sprinkles. Nothing makes her happier. She literally jumps up and down at the thought.

 Ivy loves meatballs. And "popcorns." And grapes. And chicken and fries. She likes reading books (Goodnight, Moon and Cat in the Hat, or any other Dr. Seuss book). She loves playing outside, especially with her cousin Lina. When you ask her a question, she always says, "Um..." before answering. She laughs at her siblings more than anything else. She demonstrates what her daddy looks like when he's exercising. She likes watching Bo on the Go and Rescue Bots.

(this guy is one of her favorite people.)

The highlight of the kids' year: going to Survival in September. Jenna and Curtis run TeenPact Survival camps all fall, and this year, they invited us to come to the one in south Georgia. We were there from Wednesday to Saturday and the kids loved every second of it.

The boys sat in on classes in water filtration, making fires, making rope, camouflage, and more. They played games--including one where they put their camouflage skills into action and then crawled through the woods. I think these few days were their favorites of the whole year. Seriously.

(Mason's favorite part was the rope swing.)

(Ivy in the rain--and not too sure about it.)

(Ivy and Lina, best buddies.)

(This was Ivy's favorite part: sliding down the trailer door on her back, over and over again.)

Common questions we hear from Ivy:

"Can I sit wif you?"

"Can you up me?" (pick me up)

"Can I do my fingernails with markers?" (seriously. She colors them pink with highlighters almost every school day.)

"Where's my cuppie?"

"Shoes on? Socks on?"

(to someone who is crying) "You sad? Okay. You hurt? Okay. You feel better? Okay."

Jeremy and I celebrated our eleven-year anniversary in October, with a hike up Pine Mountain. A lot has changed in eleven years (namely with the addition of five kids!), but this hasn't changed: he is still my best friend.

 Life is nutty these days, but full of blessings. Five of the biggest ones sit right here.

(This was after family pictures this fall. I love these crazy nuts.)

Remember This

These things I want to remember.

When the four big kids are in their beds and the house is quiet and dark. And I sit in my rocking chair and nurse you and your hands are splayed starfish-like on mine, or grasping my fingers. You close your eyes sleepily, and then you open them again and look at me and give me that sunshiny, milky, toothless smile. Your eyelids are a little red as sleep draws you in, but your face lights up when you smile. And then when you fall asleep, I hold you for quiet hours there in our place.

I want to remember this.

Every morning, you wake up happy. You look over at me and seem delighted to be alive, to be here, with us. Every morning, it's like you're surprised by the goodness of life. You grin at me, you coo, you smile, you raise your eyebrows and make silly faces. You reach out with your soft little hands and grab my face. You always grab my face. You open and close your fingers like you're waving.

When you were so new, so tiny, you liked to sleep on my chest. You'd burrow your head under my chin and to comfort you, I'd cover your face with my hand. I don't know how we started that or why you liked it, but you did. Then you'd reach your hand up and hold onto my hand. You cried a lot those first few weeks, every evening from seven o'clock on through the hours. But you liked that spot. It made you feel safe, I think. I loved it too. You're not yet six months old, and already you've changed so much. You don't fall into that spot very often anymore.

I want to remember this.

Every time I catch your eye, you smile. Every time. Even when you're crying. Laina said the other day that you're good at making people feel happy when they are sad. It's so true. Your smile shows off your sweet bottom gums or your little pink tongue. (There is nothing better than gummy, toothless smiles. I might cry when you get teeth.) You sometimes raise your eyebrows when you grin. I don't think I've ever not smiled back at your precious baby smile.

You don't giggle so easily, but if I tickle you under your chin, I can usually get a little laugh. But if your big brother Mason is around, you chuckle, giggle, and squeal with delight. You think he's the funniest thing ever. One night, he and Laina were yelling something crazy ("Not the butler!") and they--and you--laughed and laughed and laughed. You were getting pretty wound up, almost hysterical, and they thought it was the best. I did too.

I want to remember this.

Those early newborn days of round-the-clock nursing (oh wait, we still do that!), where everything moves slowly and seems quieter, even when it's not. When you slept more than you woke and liked nothing better than some milk and a snuggle (oh wait, that's still what you like best!) You were so tiny then, so fragile.

For the first few days after you were born, I'd bring you into our room for a nap and we'd sleep snuggled up together. I'd smell your newborn head in my sleep. I'd wake up before you and not move, soaking in every second we spent in that peaceful cocoon together.

I want to remember this.

Dashing into the shower with you hanging out on the bathroom floor in your carseat, your brother in his highchair with a snack, and the big kids plunked in front of a movie. You fuss and I peek out from behind the shower curtain, catch your eye, and smile at you. You smile back, but only until I let the curtain drop.

How your right leg kicks when you're hungry or upset. How you scratch things, exploring, and your daddy calls you the Scientist in the Crib. How you sometimes suck on your toes. Your squeals, squeaks, and coos, and the way you beat-box with your paci. And your sweet newborn cry, already changed into a sweet infant cry.

This wonderful new normal, having you here, with us. You've been here forever; you've only just arrived. We continue on in our life, cleaning the house, doing school, eating meals, getting little people dressed, changing diapers. And yet we pause, so frequently, to look at you. There's a new little person here! Do you see?

Mason makes you laugh. Laina talks to you in silly voices. Cory wants to hold you. Iain calls you funny names. You are loved, little one. And welcomed. Waited for, and cherished.

I want to remember this.

I sort through your arrival, feeling mixed emotions. I relive the moment when I first held you, over and over. You were pale and your hair was dark, and you fit onto my chest just right. And we worked on nursing together and I was so glad you were finally here.

I wear you in the blue ergo with pink flowers on it. You used to sit up high in it, on a special newborn pillow and wrapped in a bulky support. The first time I used the ergo without it, when you could hold your head up well, I marveled at how tiny you felt again. We hiked that day, you in the ergo, me and your daddy chasing after your siblings. You like being close to me in that carrier, and I like having you there. You sleep, head tucked in, and you hold my arms with your soft hands. When I cradle you in one arm, your hand, hanging down, grasps my elbow.

You sit on my lap when we eat around our table, and you lean forward, grabbing for things already. You gum everything in sight. You roll the instant you're placed on the floor. I think back to when you couldn't yet roll over. It was so long ago. It was yesterday.

I want to remember this.

I go to bed late. You and I sit in the quiet, and we rock, and you nurse on and off, and I laugh at reruns of The Office and pat your bottom or stroke your impossibly soft head. You like to hold my hand while you nurse. If I move it, to reach for my water or the phone, or a book, you fuss. It's okay, Ivy. I want to hold your hand, too.

I want to remember this.

Always.

These Four

These four. I've just been thinking about them recently. What an undeserved gift from God they are to me. How very blessed and glad I am to be their mama. Four sweet faces. Four sweet voices. Four silly laughs.

(photo by Sarah Stephens)

Homeschooling has been exhausting lately, and it's good to stop and see these crazy kids. Because the days are long, but the years are short. These are precious days, when all four are little. When they can all fit on the couch with me, or play on the living room floor while I read The Long Winter. These are the days when they like nothing better than a walk and bike ride after dinner, and they beg to hear Narnia at night. They crawl around like puppies chasing Mason and tickling him. All four ask for snacks every five minutes all day long. All four like to be outside in the sunshine. All four want goodnight kisses and hugs and snuggles.

These sweet kids. These four.

Mason's Baby Dedication

September 29--we dedicated Mason to the Lord. The sweet boy slept through the entire dedication. It was a sweet time with family (my mom, Jenna and Titus, Haylee, and Jeremy's parents), and our friends. Stephen spoke about how our children, these babies, were evidence that God remembered us. Of course, when he read 1 Sam 1:27, "For this child I prayed, and the Lord has granted me my petition that I made to Him" I thought about all the prayers we prayed for this little boy, this sweet Mason, before we even knew who he was. 

And so we dedicate him to the Lord, promising to raise him up in the knowledge of God and to teach him the love and grace of Jesus.

Afterwards, we took some family pictures outside. Then--off to Moe's to celebrate our boy!

Mason and his grandparents:

The Brannon family:

Our best family picture since Mason was born (at least in terms of everyone smiling!):

We love you Mason!