Many parents, including us, are deeply aware of the need to add a Parental Rights Amendment to the United States Constitution. Check out this trailer:
For the past two years, my folks lived about 2 miles away. It was the closest we've been together since I was 15 and left home for academy.
If I had to choose when to live near family, this was a good year to pick. Being pregnant, giving birth, and then learning to care for a new baby gave me extra appreciation for the wisdom and comfort of the older generation.
Sadly, when we moved, they did too.
In the opposite direction.
Now, instead of being 3 minutes away - we are more than 6 hours apart. And we miss you like the dickens already!
...you will always be old.
No matter how young you are.
No matter how young you feel.
No matter how "cool" you are, or think you are.
No matter how much fun you have with your friends.
Your kids will never see you as you see yourself.
What's more, they'll never even realize it until they have a child of their own who'll always see THEM as old.
Sad ain't it?
The other day The Hubby came into our room where I was nursing Little Man.
"I know we've talked about this before, but it really hit me this morning," he said.
"This baby is a blank slate right now. Every single thing we do - or don't do - is forming his character and shaping him into the man he will someday become. That means there is no insignificant choice, no pointless decision.
"Even though he is small and not fully aware of his surroundings yet, our habits are teaching and molding him."
Talk about profound.
Talk about frightening in the sheer weight of responsibility.
And no, I'm not wigging out. I'm not going all OCD or freaked-out legalistic. But we just can't look at this new baby and disregard the fact that his primary source of shaping will stem from the everyday decisions we make as his parents.
It's too great a reality to ignore.
People say these days that your real family are the people you choose, not the ones you were born to.
But what if the people you choose and the ones you were born into are the same ones? Of course, there are always those friends you make who become like family - but why should they necessarily trump your own blood?
As Little Man arrived and the Hubby and I experienced a whole new spectrum of emotion, exhilaration and exhaustion - we've been incredibly blessed to have our family members nearby. My mom and dad spent nearly all day every day with us at the hospital, helping and supporting and sharing wisdom from their own experience. I don't know that you've ever seen two prouder grandparents. Dad even made a special trip to the Tractor Supply Store, JUST to find newborn-size John Deere baby socks, bright green and all!
Granddaddy & Grandmommy
The Hubby & Auntie MLast week we had family worship in the nursery. I was entrenched in the feeding process, so The Hubby brought in a stool and joined us.
For whatever reason, he decided to sing the song "Tell Me The Story of Jesus". We got to the third verse, where it says "tell of the cross where they nailed him, writhing in anguish and pain", and I couldn't sing the rest of the song.
My whole life, I've heard that song. Breezed right past the last verse. Never stopped to consider the agony behind it.
But as I stared down into the tiny little face nursing innocently away, tears poured down my cheeks,dripping off my chin and mixing with his milk. The Hubby finished the verse in solo.
What if it was HIM? What if it were MY son suffering?
For the first time, I pondered how God himself must have felt watching Jesus go through with their plan.
For me.
Wow.
I've been so busy this week with just trying to accomplish the basics, that I haven't been able to get on here and blog. I tried blogging from my phone while nursing, but typing on my phone's keyboard made it so full of misspellings that I decided not to torture you.
Before any more time passes, I really need to give props to my sister for all her help. She came down the weekend of the birth to just be there and do whatever needed to be done. She even was able to give Little Man his first bath!
Then she came back for several days during the next weekend, too. She helped around the house, watched the baby while I got some sleep, and spent the entire day Friday cooking. Mexican lasagna, baked cheesy polenta with basil and tomatoes, hashbrown casserole, black beans and rice - our refrigerator was stocked for at least two weeks of hearty eating.
When I was exhausted and worried to tears about Little Man's difficulty nursing, she shared knowledge from her work as a nurse and helped me feel more confident about this new journey.
All in all, I just want her to know how great she was. Thank you, sis!
(And I promise I'll return the favor when it's your turn! ;)
... the Hubby was going through friends on Facebook the other day and noting how many boys have been born this year. Seems like we've got friends having a new baby every single week since last spring!
(And yes, despite the morbid predictions by Target Lady in yesterday's post - almost all of them are boys!)
A vast majority of these new parents all attended Southern Adventist University as well. Which means that in about 18 years, it's possible that a couple dozen of our friend's sons will be invading the SAU campus as college freshmen.
While most of us in this new-parent group are scattered around the continent, I really do hope that our Munchkin can have some of these boys as his childhood friends somehow. It'll make the 2027 freshman orientation at SAU just that much more fun.
Hmmm, come to think about it - all those pastor's kids invading the poor school at the same time? Yikes. The men's dorm might never be the same again!
Should somebody warn the school?
This weekend my sister and her husband came for the day. After church we all had lunch together at our parents' house. (Grillers and fries and icy fruit smoothies, mmmm!!!)
When our family gets together, it's like everyone goes a little off-kilter sometimes. We each have vastly different styles of humor and storytelling, and everyone's always trying to talk over each other. We're kind of like Italians, talking and laughing and sneaking sips from each other's drinks.
Except dad, of course. Like any good patriarch, he usually sits back quietly and watches the madness take on a life of its own. Until he has a story to tell. When dad tells a story, it's the only time the entire group shuts up to listen!
I couldn't help but think that if I were a child, I'd really enjoy being together with my whole family. Everything so full of life and spunk, even when things aren't going well or when everybody's broke. There's always good food, plenty of laughter, an adequate measure of controlled sibling rivalry and lots of love that keeps bringing us back together.
Yup, if I were my kid, I'd like family dinners.
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