Oatmeal Cookies.



Last First Tooth.



Recently Hudson lost his first tooth; a second followed just days later.

Every first for Hudson has been a last for me.  Add one more to the list.  Sigh.

5.



Hudson,

Sunday was a big day for you; you turned five. To date, this has been the milestone that's meant the most to you.  You know when you're five, you'll go to school.  That's still nearly a year away, but to you, to be five is huge.

You're way pumped to be learning to read and to practice running faster and faster; you're working hard at growing up.

Favorite food: ice cream

Favorite color: always and (possibly) forever, it's orange.  Even as a toddler, you preferred to chew on the orange crayons over any other color.

Favorite song: Indisputably, it's this one.

You're loud and brave, funny and charming, and so very tenderhearted- and I love you.  Happy Birthday.

Love,

Mom

Saturday Morning.



Hudson helping Dad get dressed; I heard the phrase, "No shirt, no shoes.  That means we're not going anywhere."

A Lemon Bundt.



This cake is tender and bright, just like Hudson.

It also leaves plenty of juice for lemonade.

Peanut Blossoms.

Great recipe here.

Four.

You're sweet and simple, charming and always funny.  You say honest, outright things, and were born an encourager- you find so many nice things to complement us on, and it's precious. 

If you're ever a stinker, your siblings probably had something to do with it.  Your Dad is everything you want to be someday and you LOVE the farm (Daddy would tell you it wouldn't have mattered to him if you didn't, but, he's not-so-secretly thrilled about that). 

You got a black eye while chasing a frog last week, and you LOVE IT when people ask you about it. 

And today, you're four.

Happy Birthday Buddy.

Love,
Mom

Cupcakes.

Hudson and I made some cupcakes this morning to surprise the girls after school.  (They are espresso, by the way, so we'll see if I regret the choice at about 4 pm...)

While making them, I realized that I can only come up with three kinds of people when it comes to cakes:

1.  They hate cake.

2. They like cake OK, as long as it doesn't have "too much" frosting, and "too much" is relative.

3.  They view the cake as a mere vehicle to the true adventure that is the frosting.

Hudson is a 3, and, I might be one too.  Depends on the type of cake, for sure.

Update

So, an update, on this day three of life-after-school-started.

Everything is extremely simple.  The school routine, life at home with Hudson, all of it.

The girls (of course) love their new school.  No one is surprised at that-  we've been excited and prepared for it for months.

Hudson doesn't mind being home with me at all- he loves it.  He's feeling very grown up, and loves having the school room, the CD player, the cats, the dogs, the toys, the books, the colored pencils, the paintbrushes, the puzzles, me, and the Wii all to himself.  At his core, he's very sweet and relational- he loves to talk to me all day, about everything, but that's nice- otherwise the house would get a little lonely.  He's never, ever, done anything (besides sleep) alone, and while he does love it when his sisters come home, he really likes this change.

Speaking of after school, I really get excited to pick up the girls and hear all about their day.  They are home by three, and we've got plenty of time to snack, play, read, and etc. before dinnertime at 6:30, so in many ways life doesn't feel that different to them.  They were all amazed at how little actual work they do at school, they're making lots of friends, they all have superstar teachers, and think their packed lunches are the bee's knees (though Patie was impressed that they serve corn dogs at school). 

When sibling conflict is eliminated, parenting becomes a breeze.  Amen?

We now have a LOT of "free space" in our day, since it's just H and me.  So, we are still exploring all that can mean-  everything is just so much simpler when a) I only have one child and b) I'm not in charge of teaching four children anymore.  We have always had tons of time in our day to be creative, to play, etc, but now I've got so much more flexibility in just about everything (running errands, etc) with such a free schedule. 

Today we dropped the girls off, got all of our groceries for the week, came home, and had everything put away by 9 AM.  Now we're spending the morning listening to The Decemberists, making focaccia, finishing some work I needed to do, and also we ate a tangelo.  Next we might go to the park or maybe paint like yesterday, who knows.  It's not bad.

Almost Four.

Wake Up Call.

Hudson

After breakfast,

in a shirt you outgrew

too quickly-

but we got it to button up.

We'll get one more day

out of it yet.

#4

Hudson is getting quite big.  But he's still our baby.

He's good-natured and sweet and funny, and his charm is absolutely disarming.  He also absolutely loves to have other people do things for him. 

I make him do anything by himself that I know he can do by himself- either simple things, or things that involve problem-solving and a little work-  just like his sisters needed to do at his age. 

Hudson has the same natural desire to be independent, to be big, to do big guy things as any three year old- but every single time he finds something to be a bit of a challenge at all- he defaults to asking for someone else to do it.  I almost always refuse, and the girls just can't refuse him.  After all, helping him makes them feel older, even if I remind them not to enable Hudson's dependence.  And, if it really was something he couldn't do, and they refused to help him, I'd probably lecture them- something about needing to be a helper and teacher for their brother.  They really can't win.

A couple of weeks ago, Hudson needed to put on his pajamas.  He's done this.  Many times.  They were one-piece, "footie" PJs- and they're way easier to get on if you do the feet first.  He tried a few times, couldn't get it to work.  I reminded him, "Feet first Hudson", and he kept insisting that I just do it for him.  I kept insisting, "No."

I left the room.  I came back, he was gone.  A while later he showed up again, fully dressed in his pajamas, and happy.  I said "See?  You did it- good job buddy."

"Eh, Gracie did it for me,"  he said, nonchalant.

"Hudson, I told you you needed to do it yourself.  You can do that for yourself, like a Daddy does."

Three beats of silence.

He cocked his head to the side, a thought-wrinkle formed above his nose, his eyes sparkled and looked straight into mine, "Your hair looks beautiful today Mommy."

And so my three year old has mastered the art of charm and distraction.  As if he was born to be a real estate agent, or a music executive.

He does really like to help Jim, though.

First Lesson.

Farm Boy

Jim grew up on a farm.  I did too.  The difference between us?  I appreciate nature/solitude/wide skies, but you can always visit those.  I could. not. wait. to move into a city someday.  He never wanted to leave.  He made peace by choosing to engineer farm equipment for a career.

A month or so ago, our small group's icebreaker question was to describe your DREAM job- income and reality suspended.  My answer (though I could think of many and they're quite varied):  To essentially have Meg Ryan's life in You've Got Mail- everything about it, but with my current family, of course.  Bookstore owner, be adorable, have a bright, beautiful but sensible apartment (much larger than hers, of course, to accommodate said family), taking advantage of the city, etc. 

Jim's answer?  Be a farmer. 

You can see, our dream jobs are highly incompatible.

Hudson seems to have inherited the farmer gene.  He's spent hours and hours in the combine this month.  As soon as we arrive at the farm and his chubby feet hit the ground, it's basically the only thing he wants to do.

Finally.

It's been a long time coming.

So much waiting.

But he's finally his.

3.

Today, you are 3. 

All you wanted when we asked was cake,  an orange "flushie", and to play blocks.

From the moment you wake in the morning, you sound your barbaric YAWP as you swing wide your door and you are HERE.

You are full of sweetness and are so disarming.  You win us all over with your charm.

You know how to work a room, and have a vast repertoire of weird funny dances, goofy songs, noises, and unbelievably loud animal calls.

You absolutely love to see the stars come out in the night sky.  You're amazed and just throw your fat little body down on the ground so you can lay out and see them better.

You can eat more marshmallows than any kid I've ever seen. 

Your body is soft, squishy, strong, and sturdy.  Incredibly perfect to squeeze and snuggle.  Your hair smells good.  And you're a hugger.  A big one.  And there's always kisses too.  You are so, so sweet.

But when you see your Dad, or just about any other man or boy you know, you're not shy about running full out toward them and throwing all your weight to tackle them.

But you just do that do the boys.  Never the girls.  Well, except for Lily.  Sometimes Lily.

It's extremely hard to get you to sit still, or even keep you in the room for a haircut.  You fight a bloody fight and scream and beg and demand, and at the end you're a sweaty, defeated shaved mess.

It would be easier to shave the cat than you.

You love all things transportation- trains, cars, planes, and you love bugs, Buzz, and Wall-E. 

But you're well educated on all things Princess as well.  You know them all by name.  You don't really care about them, but you know it all through and through. 

We laugh with, and at, you every day.

Love you Buddy.  Happy Birthday.

Love, Mom

It's Time.

Pray for Us.

Hudson.

He is such a great little kid.

Charming, adorable, incredibly sweet.

He can just knock you over with his charm.







This bike is pink.



He loves to be big. Can't wait to get bigger.
The world revolves around his blanket, and his Daddy. When Dad walks in the door, it's, "I want to be wi' youuu, Daddy!!", and Jim has a buddy the rest of the night.
When I need him to do something I know he won't want to do, I just tell him, "Let's _____, and do it like Daddy does", or, "Hudson, let's be big, like Daddy". It usually works.



He loves to be rough with the guys, and be sweet and cuddly with the ladies. And he's all things and in between with his sisters. Sometimes obnoxious, but that's his job.

He works hard to get all the doors for us.

He's not big on sitting still, but he's getting there.

And we all agree he's great to have around.

Love you, HJ.

Redemption

I'm not a sunny side up person. I'm not. I'm actually quite negative. I see failure and brokeness everywhere. Daily basis. Hourly, really. But, I'm not a pessimist.

Over the years, I've understood some things about myself. It took me a while to get it clear. Am I a through-and-through optimist? Not at all. But, I see beauty everywhere. I see redemption everywhere. In any horrible circumstance I've experienced myself or through the eyes of another, I see all the negative, all the pain, all the awful- but tend to find the undercover beauty. I don't try. I just rises to the top. It just does. I've realized that's just me.


Does that take away the pain? Does it make things right? Does it make the mess clean? No. But it makes the experience fuller, rounder, gives it color in the sea of gray and black, and points me to the day when things will be whole again.


If I saw a garbage dump, I'd see the sea of scum, be overwhelmed by it's stench, and automatically search out something shiny or glittery, and get all hopeful and poetic over it. I have an unfailing ability to scan the dusty shelves of a thrift store to find the one jewel lost and forgotten, mistreated or left behind, and I take incredible joy in bringing it home, cleaning it up, and giving it life and purpose again.

That's me.

I'm not an optimist.

I'm a redemptionist. I see it everywhere.

And so this blog has become over the years a picture of our lives, and as I am the lone publisher, it's a picture through my eyes.

It's not that life isn't a multi-faceted experience of frustration and beauty, richness and poorness, struggle and victory- it's just that I tend to be inspired to write about the beauty. Not the mundane, or the failures (though if they produce something wonderful I'm drawn to tell). I never, ever feel a pull to make things seem more wonderful than they are- but I am drawn to call up the glory of the good, of those things that are beautiful in the midst of a life of ups and downs.

Yesterday I was up to my shoulders in attitude and tears from my passionate 2 1/2 year old, struggling with the language barrier and learning to handle the huge emotions that live in such a compact body- even when I grew near the breaking point ready to lock myself in my room and sever all attempts at reason with him, I was thinking, "Man, life is good. I love my job. I love this fat little man. I don't want to see him for the rest of the day, but he's so infinitely valuable to me." Even when things are horrible. This is where I go. It's not a lie, it's not glossing over the truth. It's recognizing a whole picture. The pain and the glory. And it's holding the glory up to the light and seeing it from all it's angles. The thing that points us to forever. That's what I'm drawn to do. And it rose up out of struggle. Now it's even more beautiful. And so that struggle had a good purpose. And now that's beautiful in it's way too.

And so now to what inspired this post, my Paperwhites.



Flowers are miraculous. Seeds. Bulbs. Cut them open, and they're just made of nothing. And out of these pieces of nothing, a scientific miracle of grand design shoots up color and beauty.


And so when Sesame Street provided an hour of rest from said 2 year old, I spent a chunk of it photographing our Paperwhites. And thinking of how amazing they are. Did it take away the attitudes of my son's heart? Not at all. He was back in full force in no time.

But the beauty was real. True. A balm. A place of peace.


And so now, after a full night's rest and time to muse on my lovely Paperwhites for this little blog post, I will hit publish and begin another day teaching a future man how to harness and express his emotions, how to honor and respect, and how to say things just the right way to make his mother and all other women's hearts melt into a puddle.

What a fantastic job.