Welcome Karis!

She's here!

Karis Michelle was born on July 5, perfect and beautiful.  She weighed 7 lbs, 2 oz at birth, and is a healthy and content baby. 

Her name, Karis,  means grace. (We pronounce it like 'care-iss,' not the way it sounds at the link, though.)

1. that which affords joy, pleasure, delight, sweetness, charm, loveliness: grace of speech

Who wouldn't want to speak that over one's daughter?  Not to mention, grace is much needed while we navigate this new adventure of parenting two girls.

Lizzie goes back and forth between adoring her baby sister ("bay-ee sisser") and acting up out of feeling displaced.  It's a bit of a struggle to keep her on an even keel, but over all, she is doing well.

It is kind of a strange and wonderful thing to refer to them as "the girls."  We have girls, plural. 

The last week of being home has honestly been better than I expected (again, grace), and I am feeling great.  Sleep has been rare, but we are getting what we need.  Friends from church have been bringing meals and adorable outfits. We are blessed.


I'll do my best to share my birth story soon (it's a good one), but I did at least want to give an update.  Lizzie is up and asking for a bagel, so I had better get it while Karis sleeps, and before Lizzie changes her mind.

(I'm linking with Alicia's Homemaking Try New Adventures, and Home Sanctuary's virtual Coffee with the Company Girls.)

Never too young to have a fashion opinion...

22 months, and this is how she wants her hair.  Gotta love having a daughter.

Coffee, Sparrows, and a Blessed Heritage

Good morning!

May I refer you to another blog today?  Follow this link to Christy LaShea Smith's blog, where she is giving away a copy of Meg Moseley's (my mom's!!) debut novel, 'When Sparrows Fall', set for release on May 3, 2011.  Leave a comment on Christy's blog and/or on her facebook page to be entered to win. 

While you're there, you can read a bit from my mom.  She is currently on the west coast with her own mom, who is in at-home hospice care.  Her words impressed me as she told of singing "Jesus Loves Me" together.  Jesus Loves Me is part of Lizzie's bedtime repertoire. She likes to sing and read about "Deesuss."

I am blessed to have a heritage of believers in my family.  Both of my parents were raised in loving, Christian homes.  My mom's side of the family can be traced through generations of proper Lutherans, as all good Danes should be.  My dad's family were kind, quiet Baptists, who taught Sunday School for decades.  In turn, my parents raised me up in 'the way I should go' and I'm so grateful.  Even on Sam's side, by the grace of God, his parents escaped Red China and sometime later came to the knowledge of salvation; instead of embracing the typical non-religion of atheism, they raised their sons in the church.

Now it's our turn.  I can't say what our girls will have when they grow up, except that we will do the best we know how to teach them to love "Deesuss" and as they grow, release them to learn to walk in faith.

When you're done visiting Christy LaShea Smith's blog, hop along with the Company Girls today. Coffee is always more fun with company, isn't it?

Lizzie's 1st Haircut

Dun, dun, dun!

A few nights ago, while Lizzie was bathing, I had finally had enough of her wet little rat tail, and got out the scissors. 

I have never cut Lizzie's hair before.  Yes, she is nearly two years old.  

The thing is, her hair has several strange traits, none of which make it a candidate for a haircut. 

For one, her hair grows from a swirl from the back of her head.  See it, just southwest of the easterly pigtail?  That is where her hair grows, and it grows forward.  If she were to have bangs, they would of necessity start behind her ears.

 

Secondly, her hair is fine, and even on her first birthday, it was about as long as a grown-out buzz cut.

Finally, on top of getting my exact color and hair texture, she received the cowlick that I also got from my mom.  Thanks, Mom.
The tricky thing about this cowlick is that it is also on the opposite side from the thick swirl in the back of the head.  It's like the perfect storm, colliding mid-head.

 

 

Fortunately, her hair is finally long enough that we can get it in pigtails, and for a few minutes, even a braid.  Do you see the random strands in the back, that are a couple of inches longer than the rest?  Those are the ones I decided must be dealt with.

So just days after that cute little braid, I got out the scissors.  I would advise against the covert bathtime haircut method.  It was going fine until . . . .

That missing chunk will grow back--right?

At least the other side looks pretty good.  And at least I didn't give her bangs that go around the whole front half of her head.  At the rate her hair grows, she'd still be working on growing those out in middle school.

Not bad for a first try.

Do you cut your own kids' hair?   I'm not sure I will do this again for a while, but I'm also not sure I would take her to one of those fancy kids hair cut places.  What do you do?



I'm linking up with Alicia's Try New Adventures today!

A 20-Month-Old's Jokes

My little baby daughter turns 20 months old tomorrow.  Out of the teen months and into the "almost 2" stage. 
We had her 18 month checkup today.  (Yes, we got a little behind; it's how life is these days.)  She is a whopping 22 lbs and 33-1/2" long.  Tall and skinny, and pure muscle.  Unfortunately she had to have 2 shots, and she did so well.  Only a minute of crying, and it all stopped when I kissed her leg where the band-aids were.  She's taking a good little nap and hopefully sleeping off the grumpies.

Lizzie is a chatterbox.  Really.  I spent some time today writing down every word that I could remember that she uses regularly, and they filled a page front and back!  That's just from off the top of my head (while I watched a bit of PBS Kids with her). 


Even better than her talking is her sense of humor.  She tells jokes.  They are usually like rhetorical questions, and the answer is always, "Noooooo....." with a smirk.

The first time we noticed her creative sense of humor was when we were eating out and she was 16 months old.  Sam and I had ordered two different things and they both looked delicious.  I was getting Lizzie situated with her food, so I had hardly gotten a chance to taste my own food when Sam asked if I had tried his yet.
I said, "No, but I really want a bite."  At that moment Lizzie grabbed my hand, took a gentle bite on my finger, and laughed.
Sam and I looked at each other and couldn't believe what she had just done.  She told her first joke.

More recently, Lizzie has started to tell jokes with words.  Most often she likes to go with the obvious.

About a month ago I put her hair in a ponytail.  Her hair is still so short that a ponytail is kind of a pathetic attempt, but it usually keeps the hair free of boogers, yogurt, and rice, and she doesn't usually pull it out.
She was so fascinated by having a ponytail like mine, and kept saying, "Mama, hair," while trying to grab my ponytail.  And then touching her hair and saying, "Zizzie, hair."  Then a few minutes later, the conversation would repeat.  Eventually she started saying, "Daddy, hair," with a bit of a sparkle in her eyes.  She'd wait for a response from me, then say, "Nooooooo," and laugh.

Last week she saw me putting on makeup, which she calls "mape-mup," and she asked for some on her cheeks.  Really, she did.  She pointed to her cheeks and said, "mape-mup, tzseek." So, being completely amused, I brushed her cheeks with my empty powder brush, and she happily watched me finish my routine.  Then the following conversation ensued:
"Mama, mape-mup."
"Yes, Mama is wearing makeup."
"Zizzie, mape-mup."
"Yes, Lizzie has makeup, too."
Lizzie smiles.  "Yaydee, mape-mup."  (Lady is our dog).
"Lady wears makeup?"
"Nooooooo," with a knowing smirk.
No, silly girl.  Lady doesn't wear makeup.

It just gets more entertaining here every day.

Gossie

"Gossie is a gosling. A small, yellow gosling, who likes to wear bright red boots."

Gossie is currently a very favorite friend at our house. She walks all around her barnyard in her bright red boots. One day she loses her bright red boots. It makes her sad.

See figure 1.

Unfortunately, L has learned empathy, and Gossie's loss makes her very sad, also.

A couple of evenings ago, I was in the middle of making or cleaning up something in the kitchen when I heard L whimpering. It was the kind of whimpering she makes when she wants some sort of help, but doesn't want to come ask for it directly. (I'm afraid she learned that from me.)

"Baby, what's the matter? Come here, and I'll help you." My annoyance was masked nicely.

Imagine my surprise when she stumbled into the kitchen to present her Gossie book at my feet, pleading with me to understand that she had found her poor, heartbroken friend on the page. No amount of reasoning or comforting would bring her to rejoice that on the very next page Gossie's boots returned on Gertie's feet.

Gossie was heartbroken, and my dear child was insisting upon mourning with her.
There is so much to be learned from her, if I'll only let my heart out of its casings occasionally.

Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. Rom. 12:15