at twelve-ish months...

how do you pick just one? or five even? or shoot...ten? maybe you can. but i can't. so. here's twenty-one. yes, twenty-one pictures from my sweet girl's one year shoot. can't get enough of her. these pictures were taken closer to thirteen months but i'll try to keep the observations about her and her character closer to twelve months...

at one, she is:

so very smiley...

 still so small. she's on the bottom end of the spectrum for both weight and height. petite. like her mama.

 not walking yet. she can go though. and does. she'll grab anything she can, a dining room chair, a random cardboard box, any of the push toys we seem to accumulate, one of her brother's larger trucks...whatever she can find to push across the floor to get herself where she wants to go. if she can't find anything to push, crawling will suffice. she COULD walk, if she wanted to. but other than a few steps here and there, she apparently doesn't have the desire for a pied travel .

 she is learning how to make her siblings laugh. she does this crazy, blinking face that they find hilarious. she pulls it out at least once during every meal time, so proud of herself for the ensuing reaction.

 in addition to not walking on her own, she also doesn't say very many words. her vocabulary is limited to "ah-wa" (water), "da-da" (of course), "lie-jah" (elijah), "baba" (bye), "buh-buh" (bum) and "pooh" (for pooh bear and sometimes poop. nice. i know.). but, given the chance, she will chat your ear off. you will have no idea what she's saying, but as long as you nod, smile and insert the appropriate, "uh huh's", she'll continue. so wish there was such a thing as a baby translator. her soliloquies sound so interesting!

 she is a chow hound, of course. just like her siblings were at her age. something about turning one and they all started eating everything put in front of them while snagging snacks off the floor or from mommy's plate, whichever is easier at the time.

 she is so. very. busy. into everything, she just bops from one activity to the next, leaving a wake of debris behind her. kitchen towels, toys, plastic lids, shoes, socks, etc. i am forever following behind her, picking things up off the floor.

 unlike her siblings, she's still nursing several times during the day. well...i should rephrase that. she typically nurses once before bed, once in the middle of the night and once first thing in the morning. i so wish she would start skipping that middle of the night feeding! mommy wants to sleep through the night again...

 she adores her brother and sister and of course wants to be doing whatever they are doing. she usually plops herself down right in the middle of their game, right on top of the book they were reading or snatches their toys straight out of their hand. this is hardly acceptable to the older two; they are forever running up to me (tears in lu's eyes typically) to report her latest infraction. it's so very hard to have a one year old sister that adores you, apparently.

 she will rarely sit still to listen to a book being read, which saddens me, of course. but both the older two went through this very same stage. i'm hoping she grows out of it soon. there's nothing i love more that a cuddle with my babies and their books.

but, it's jars of clay!

so. i wasn't supposed to take the pictures. not only were there signs posted outside the theater but the super nice lady (was she the director?) that introduced the band made it perfectly clear that photography of any kind was not to be tolerated. the obedient good girl in me pretty much curled up into a little ball and wept at that news. no pictures? seriously? but, but, but it's JARS OF CLAY! how can i not take pictures?

being a fairly stringent rule abider (apparently that's not a word...but you know what i mean) for the majority of my life, i sat through the first half of the concert with my camera faithfully tucked away in my bag. however, after several moving songs (and when i say moving, i mean there were tears flowing off the end of my nose...), i turned to my husband and said, "i can't walk out of here without taking at least one picture. or ten. cover for me." so, i did it. i broke the rules. and i still kinda feel bad about it. i mean, they did ask me not to. but...i'm not planning to sell them, post them on facebook or do anything illegal with them. i'm just going to keep them, here, on my hard drive. as a souvenir, a token to remember an amazing evening...and no. i'm not even going to post them here. i do have a bit of a conscience left, apparently.

the two best songs of the night? (did you really expect me to pick just one?) not flood. gag. i didn't even like that song back when it was popular. which is funny...since it's kinda like their "hit". that one song they have to play at every.single.show. can i even call them my favorite band if i don't like it? hmmm. anyways. the two best songs of the night: something beautiful (the eleventh hour) and run in the night (the shelter) (the links will take you to the lyrics page; just scroll down to the right song). good stuff. i'd rhapsodize more about the songs and the reasons i love them but i think i'll save the real personal stuff for another day. i'm just not feeling it tonight. just know that i bawled at something beautiful. cried like a moody teenager. serious. but then again...how could i not? i mean, it was jars of clay. after all. {wink}

the anaya's in cancun...

have i ever told you this story? back in april, all five of us made the trek down south to the tropical locale of cancun, mexico. john had won the trip through his hard work for his company and though the company only paid for two tickets, we decided to make it a family affair (mainly because the girls, being under two, were basically free). it wasn't a relaxing vacation, to be sure, but we had fun nonetheless. ninety percent of the week we were there was spent ... you guessed it ... at the pool. i sat in the shade with the baby while e and lu splashed in about eighteen inches of water. i didn't get any poolside reading done as my eyes were glued to their two heads bobbing in and out of the kiddie pool. but i did get to eat some amazing seafood and sit on my bum with absolutely nothing else to do. THAT was definitely appreciated.

i did make it into the pool a few times...

the day we were supposed to fly home was a bit traumatic...or maybe dramatic...one or the other...as the ticket agent couldn't find our reservations and couldn't get us all on one flight together (splitting us up was not even an option either apparently). so...we got to head back into the city, lug our belongings back into another hotel room and try to enjoy a few more hours in "paradise". the kids did great with the schedule mix up...i wish the same could be said for their mother (yes, that would be me). i was just so.ready to be home. to be completely honest, it was hard adjusting my attitude...until the next morning when room service brought breakfast (a treat in and of itself, one that i thoroughly appreciated!) and my son was ecstatic about the amount of bacon he got on his plate. apparently, it's the little things ... right?

aforementioned breakfast.

a few more pictures...

 

is this not the saddest face you've ever seen? poor boy had his first major spill on his bike last weekend...and yes, i had to take a picture. and yes, i had to post it on here. he will hate me someday for that...
we were all riding as a family, john pulling the girls in the trailer and me and e on our bikes, riding along behind. he swerved to miss a pole in the middle of the sidewalk without looking to see if there was anything next to him. unfortunately, there was. a semi truck. parked, thankfully. but still. he missed the truck but lost his balance and flew right over the handlebars. not fun. his first comment was wailed through the tears: "i want ducky!" (his little duck blanket that he sleeps with...) and then, after the tears had subsided a bit, "i don't like trucks, mommy." which is funny...because if you know him, you know that he really does like trucks. poor guy. a busted lip. a scraped up chin. scabby knees. man...that hurts. 

so. funny story.

i asked for a grumpy face...and this is what she gave me!

this little girl cracks.me.up. on a daily basis.
example? why, certainly.

the other day, i asked her to pick up her shoes and put them away in the closet.
her response?
{imagine the following in a very serious, two year old tone:}
"not today, mommy. my only do dat on tuesdays."

for reals.
how do you NOT laugh?

tears.

i'm tired of crying.
tired of hurting.
tired of carrying this sadness around.
this sadness that isn't even my own.

a little baby girl went back to be with Jesus last week.
she choked in her sleep.
the reality of that astounds me.
choked on her mother's sweet milk.
it pierces.
she was the daughter of friends.
a niece of dear friends.
a granddaughter of friends.
only seven weeks old.
my heart hurts.
aches.
the tears are so near the surface.
always.

i hide them.
my children don't understand.
don't need to know.
they don't need the burden of mommy's sadness.
but it weighs on me.
a layer of melancholy surrounds.

every time i bring naomi to my breast...i hurt anew.
tears leak from my eyes even as i savor that tender moment with my baby girl.
i think of the physical pain the mother must be in as her body continues to make milk.
make milk for a baby that exists on this earth no longer.
the milk that stopped her breath.
bittersweet.
staggering in its harsh reality.
if only there were a valve to turn it off...instead of the continuous flow of nourishment.
my breasts seem to be mourning with her.
they've clogged themselves more in the past week than they have in the last six months.
blisters and cracks have appeared and not healed.
it physically hurts to nurse naomi now.
i have a piece of her pain.

and so i cry.
i cry for the lost life.
i cry for the missing face from the christmas photo on the mantle.
i cry for me and my selfish self...so thankful it wasn't me.
i cry for the absolute devastation they must feel.
i cry.
and i cry.
and i cry.

and i'm tired of it.
which makes me cry even more...
because of how awful that thought even is.

i don't know why her passing has affected me so very deeply.
i never even got to hold her.
i picked her paci off the floor, gave it a rinse and gave it back to her.
that's it.
that's all.
the whole of my interaction with her.
yet.
yet.
yet her passing has broken me.
daily.

i'm frustrated with myself.
so selfish i am.
so self centered.
i've been trying to write out my feelings for the past five days.
but i can't get past the fact that this is all about me.
me.
me.
me.
what about them?
what about her? the mother of that sweet baby girl?
surely, my pain doesn't even begin scratch the surface what what they must be thinking and feeling.
i'm annoyed with my own vanity.
yet, still.
the tears come.
they drip off my nose and soak my shirt.
i weep.
uncontrollably.
for the memories that will never be.
for the memories of those awful moments upon finding her...lifeless.
those memories that will be burned forever on the inside of their eyelids.
for the sweet milk that is being made...never to be drunk.
for the absolute agony.
despair.
anguish.

never before have i better understood that scripture in romans that says, "we do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express."

i don't know what to pray.
i don't know how to pray.
for the most part, my prayers have been wordless groans of desperation.
there is a small comfort knowing that though i have no words, the holy spirit can translate my silence.
God knows.
He knows.
He knows.
and right now, He's holding her.
both of them.
mother and baby.
together in His hand.
they will be together again.
but oh...
how my heart aches.
and the tears still fall.
silent.

misadventures in toddler fashion.

this is what happens when lucy dresses herself:

not only is the headpiece a nice touch but the shirt is on backwards and honestly, the skirt just really doesn't match.

when asked about her wardrobe choices for the day, she responded, "'lijah helped me." ahhh. that explains quite a bit.

 a view from the back. at least she rocked the look...

just once...

just once,

i'd like to get a picture

of all three of my kids

looking at the camera

with smiles on their faces.

all three of their faces.

just once.

okay.

maybe twice.

but really...

that can't be too much to ask.

can it?

all pictures taken exactly a month ago, 26 july 2011, at my parents' house in alaska.