A two-year old's stalling tactics...

You may think that the stalling tactics of a two year old are immature or innocent.  Surely we shouldn't use the word "tactic"?!?  That implies manipulation.  Well, naive friend of mine: my gal excels at manipulation!  She has worked it into an art form!  Already!

Sleeping has been a struggle for us for a while now.  Even before we converted her crib into a toddler bed (when she climbed out about 3 months ago), A was avoiding napping at all cost. She doesn't scream to get up or cry when we put her down.  Instead she sings every song she knows, names every person in our family, calls out the names of her friends, calls out the toys she sees around her room... you get the picture.  If I'm in the right frame of mind, it's pretty fun to sit in the hall and listen to her.  Especially now in her big-girl bed.  She can stand up (which earns a spanking if we catch her), hang onto her bed rail, and see herself in the mirror.  I first discovered her doing this, dancing back and forth, and telling herself she was pretty.  (Ugh!  I mean, she is, but have I created a monster???)  So you see, naps are a rarity these days.  If she happens to fall asleep in the car she's good, but otherwise she's up for almost two hours playing, and once every few days she actually falls asleep.  It's exhausting to this pregnant mama, and a little nerve-wracking to imagine no naps when I have a newborn, too.

Back to the stalling tactics.  These include but are not limited to,

"I cannot take a nap."  "I don't yike to go to seep."  "Can we wead da Jesus Bible 'gain?"  "I yove you."  "Want to give baby sister a kiss."  (This involves kissing my belly button, which is apparently a portal through which the girls can talk and hug and kiss already.  Ha!)  "Will you say prayers 'gain?"   "Mommy!  I'm going to stand up!"

You get the picture.  How can you say 'no' to saying more prayers?  Apparently even a spanking is preferred to sleeping.  Our girl is definitely a mess.  And - not to brag - but how smart to use Jesus to stall?

I used to think my frustration about naptime was selfishness on my part.  That I just wanted that time alone, to catch up on email or shower or start dinner in peace or whatever.  That's certainly true at times.  I just cannot be convinced that a two year old doesn't need a nap!  Especially when she's whiny and grumpy all afternoon afterwards.  Or when she wakes up the next day like this:

Anyone with morning hair like this has had some desperately-needed sleep!  I'm at a loss on all future naps.  Sigh.  Perhaps she's just my girl in all respects: too nosy or interested in what's going on around her to calm down.  Heaven knows she's every once of mine in other ways...

The gal is two!

Soon I will have to stop referring to Addison as our "gal."  We will have two, after all.  In the meantime I will continue to use this Gowing term of endearment for my sweet girl.  My sweet big girl, I should say.  She is two.  The light of my life, her Daddy's love, the focus of our future and my days, and the gift that has taught me so much about myself and who God created me to be, as well as about our Father's love, is two years old!
I distinctly remember discovering I was pregnant with her.  Brad had such a funny reaction.

I remember being so scared when we found out she had to be delivered by C-section.

I remember waking up at midnight before going into the hospital to fix myself eggs and toast to tide me over; I couldn't eat for 12 hours before surgery, and I didn't want to be in a foul mood when they brought my baby to me.  (If you've ever been around me when I'm hungry, you understand.)  My dad got up to eat with me before we went back to bed.

I remember when they held her up and Brad walked around my head to get a better look at her.  First he told me she was beautiful, then I think he said something about how the inside of my stomach was disgusting, then he realized our camera was out of batteries so he ran across the hall to borrow one.  :)

I remember the first time I nursed her, the hospital had some sort of fire alarm or something go off, so all the grandpas and friends and youth who were visiting (and there were several of each) were ushered back into the room with us, awkwardly listening to Addison's first attempt at eating on the other side of a curtain.  Haha.

I remember our first walk: Brad held me up, while I held onto the hospital bassinet for dear life and walked around the hall so slowly it seemed like time stood still.  I'm pretty sure I was bent over at a 90 degree angle.

I remember being nervous about introducing Addison to Rosco, and quickly realizing we had nothing to be concerned about.

Our first days and weeks at home were a struggle.  Thank goodness for my parents and sister, who all stayed so long to help!  I cried like a baby when my mom left town, so sure I was going to screw up royally without help.  But as I figured out what I was doing, and she learned how to not over-eat (she is, after all, her mother's child!), life got easier and my heart has seemed to grow outside of my body.  It continues to do so.  How do people without children understand even an ounce of the Father's love for us?  I barely grasp it at all, and I tear up almost every time I pray with or for Addison.  Her mere existence has brought joy to Brad and I from the moment we found out she was coming.

Even now, as the "NO!"s and "MINE"s have increased and sometimes led to more frequent spankings.  As the twos come on strong and bring methods of manipulation that I never imagined my sweet baby capable of, I am struck by frustration, yes, but love.  And laughter.  (Let's face it: unless you're in the middle of Publix or something, a tantrum is often quite funny.)

So happy birthday sweet Addison Grace.  I love you so much and I pray every day for your salvation, loving spirit, and kindness.  Mostly I pray your daddy and I don't screw this up too badly.I know our sweet Savior has much, much in store for you!

The month leading up to her special birthday has been a busy one: settling in, visiting Texarkana for a week, family reunion south of Dallas, and a week in Pensacola has exhausted all of us but been so fun.  A month in pictures should suffice...

practicing for "baby sister"

cousin Holmes

Grandaddy & RaRa

all the Gowing cousins + our sweet friend Will

loving on our new cousin, baby Kate

Elmo birthday cake for the family "party"

yup: my kid for sure

And the hits just keep on coming...

I was going to title this post "Some Rules to Moving."  Then this morning happened and I just can't get past the comical aspect of what should have been a fairly simple move for our little family.

The rest of this post is going to sound really negative, so I need to say upfront that it all could have gone horribly, but it didn't.  Brad's parents came into town to help, and help they did, taking turns keeping Addison or helping me at the house before we even moved our stuff.  We are so thankful to them and some sweet friends who helped us.

We bought a house on May 18th.  This comedy of errors started about a week before that, however, when I made the mistake of buying a Pottery Barn rug for A's "big girl room" from someone I found on Craigslist.  It was hot outside, she was 20 minutes late to meet me, and I had to pee... not a good combination for a pregnant girl.  By the time the woman got there to meet me, I was so antsy I didn't even have her roll the rug out!  I talked her down to $100 and felt okay about it.  Needless to say, I got it home and discovered a horrible mess!  After multiple hours on my hands and knees spot cleaning, and a few rounds with a steam cleaner, the jelly stain is out, the dark who-knows-what-that-was is lighter, and what I can only hope was juice has actually drained the pink color in a few spots.  Oh well.  One day Addison will discover markers and I'll be glad I didn't pay the $799 that rug is currently listed for at the store.

With any move, you can expect to bleed some money.  We knew coming into it we would spend quite a bit getting our electrical system up to code, putting in a couple new appliances, and other "move-in" type things.  The Wednesday before we moved in, however, I had to laugh at the rotating group of sub-contractors in our house.  Brad's dad and I were cleaning (the entire house was filthy), and throughout the day we had the deliverymen bring in my washer and dryer, a couple of sweet, round, red-neck electricians working nonstop, a plumber who looked like he belonged on the movie Deliverance, and two painters who spoke absolutely no English.  All in one afternoon.  Pretty funny.

We had asked around about a painter to do some touch up work on the inside of the home.  I really wanted to paint all the rooms, but after taking a look at the trim work that's chipped and the ceiling that needed repainting in a few spots, we decided to take care of that and a couple of rooms.  We had several suggestions of who not to use, and only one suggestion of someone who did good work.  I met with him and was a little concerned about his limited English, but we stepped out and agreed on a price and an end date.  To make a long story short, he did none of the work and hired out to guys who spoke no English, they finished a day late, my trim work hasn't been touched, the coats of paint are visibly are uneven, and I've been scraping drips of paint up off the floor with my fingernails.  Ugh.

With lots of help from Brad's parents and a couple of movers, we got our stuff over here and some boxes unpacked.  Brad's mom started loading the dishwasher looked up distressed: the baskets in the dishwasher were literally falling apart!  We priced replacement baskets and quickly realized that it made more sense to buy a new dishwasher.  A week later the deliveryman actually showed up, damaged my counter top, told me he'd have to cut the kitchen tile in order to get the old dishwasher out, and left me with two dishwashers, neither working!  He came back two days later with reinforcements and put it in, charged me more money, and left with my new dishwasher not installed properly.  Ugh!

Today I woke up with a long list of "to dos."  I tore my back out during all of the moving stuff, so I've been taking it easy.  I intended to finish unpacking the boxes, rearrange some stuff in A's room and run a couple of errands.  About the time I was finishing breakfast I heard a strange gurgling noise from the guest bath.  I will spare you the details and skip to the end: the plumbers came back and had to replace a portion of the sewage pipe under the house; there was a hole in it that someone had tried to fix with a large rubber band.  The hits just keep on coming, and our monetary hemorrhage continues. :)

We are enjoying lots of things about the "new" place though: A's playroom, space in our kitchen, an actual backyard, etc.  I'm thankful that we're discovering all these issues now, and not when I'm days away from delivering this sweet baby girl.  Have I posted that yet?  That this bundle of moves is a girl?  It's a girl.  And she's either going to be a runner like her daddy or a dancer like me, because she moves constantly!  Can't wait to meet her.  Well, I can wait... I need to wait... I don't know where any of our "newborn" stuff is yet!

Happy Mother's Day
It's been a while, so Mother's Day seemed just as likely a day as any other lately to post something new, this time hopefully something worthwhile.  :)  I thought I might give a shout out to the moms in my life...

Mama...
I am so thankful for my mom.  She (along with Daddy) have shaped my life and my faith in ways that I hope and pray I pass on to my babies.  Mom has always devoted herself to what she and my dad thought was best for our family.  My dad has always come before us kids, in the way that he's supposed to, showing us that marriage is sacred and covenant and is the most important relationship - behind the one each individual has with Christ - in the family.  She was not ashamed to say that too, even when we (and so many other moms) must have made her feel like she should have been spending more time watching ballet practice, or fixing a three-course dinner, or spending time to herself.  (Frankly, I ate very well growing up; I'm not quite sure how she got any kind of meal, casserole, take-out, or otherwise, on the table after working all day and running us around.)  I am so thankful that she didn't spend her days trying to get "more" in, and that she worked and prayed diligently for us to become well-rounded followers of Christ.
Thanks Mom for all you did and do to make me a better me.

Missy...
What do you say about the woman who raised the man you love?  Missy and Pop raised a man who loves Jesus and tries daily to serve Him better by serving us and others.  I am so grateful for His background, and my relationship with his parents.  Sure, Missy probably sometimes thinks Brad is better and wiser than he is (I do too), and she certainly sees all things through rose-colored glasses, and often makes me (yes, ME! the eternal optimist!) look like a pessimist, but she treats me like a daughter and is full of wisdom and advice.  And she reminds me that "Brad came that way"... meaning all the crazy things he does come from somewhere, and they usually bring something wonderful too.  I am so grateful to count her as my friend; I know of few women as lucky with their in-laws.

my grandmothers...
I have two living grandmothers, Tutu and Grandma.  I was lucky enough growing up to know my great-grandmother, too.  Faithful mothers and wives, church attenders, etc.  Tutu is now as crazy as a loon (Mom, please don't show her this post) and Gram probably doesn't know what a blog is so she won't read this, but I love them and I love the kiddos they put out into the world.
I am often overwhelmed by the legacy of faith Brad and I have to share with our children.  I am so thankful.  It's only by the grace of God that we got so lucky.

Malia...
My sister lives far away.  She is married to a crazy guy we went to college with, who I still can't believe I'm legally related to, and they have a beautiful 11 month old.  It's sad that we only get to see each other a couple times a year.  She always remembers everything - birthdays, anniversaries, etc. - and sends a card or a note in the mail.  She reminds me that life doesn't have to be complicated, and I should take myself less seriously sometimes.  She's so grounding and real.  She sent me a mother's day card that said "You know how mom always said, 'Be nicer to your sister! One day she'll be your best friend!'..."  True statement.  Life is funny that way I guess.

Britton...
My sister in law was the first of my friends to have a baby.  She's taught me a lot about the "basics" I guess you'd call them: swaddling, which stroller to use, introducing food, when a temperature is too high, etc.  Before I even had a kid.  With every child (they're on #5) her life gets a little crazier but she get's a little more laid back, which I think has helped Brad and I adopt a more laid-back approach to the baby years.  I'm so thankful for her friendship, and for the relationship she maintains with Brad; it often comes in handy to have the voice of the logical older sister on my side.

"Mom" friends...
If you are a mom, you know you can't (and usually don't) do it alone.  We all read books or articles or watch reports on TV or ask our moms questions to affirm what we're doing with our kids.  I hope you're as lucky as I am to have friends, too, to call about everything from maternity clothes, to when to spank, to what happens when your child flies out of her crib.  I'm so, so thankful for these women.  After all, "it takes a village."

Brad...
No, he doesn't act like a mom.  At all.  But obviously he's a large part of this parenting team and he's a wonderful father and friend.  He laughs at the things I laugh at, helps me figure out what to do and how, and backs me up when I need it.  (This all may change when our gal hits puberty but still has Daddy wrapped around her finger, but for now it's working, haha.)  He seems to know just when I need an hour to myself - or a leisurely shower, or when we need a night without our munchkin.  I am so blessed by the gift of motherhood, and that obviously couldn't have happened without him.

Now, onto what's new in the Gowing household.  A brief list...
We close on our "new" house this week.  Yay!  Moving will be a chore, though.  Ugh.
Addison jumped out of her crib last week, so she's in a toddler bed.  We're going on 5 days with no nap, and right now she's singing her version of the ABC's at the top of her lungs from the bed.  Sigh.
Brad just got back from a 9 day mission trip to Ukraine working at a camp for orphans.  If he tells me another story, we may be adopting a teenager soon.
I'm 22 weeks pregnant.  (I think.)  I look like I'm 32 weeks pregnant.  Oh well.  We think it's a girl, and have another ultrasound next week to check it out.  Naming this one is going to be a battle.

Fighting off the "what-ifs"

Does anyone else get bogged down in the "what-ifs"?  I mean bogged down: can't get off Realtor.com; wish you could do something as cool as you saw on Pinterest; wish I wasn't so tired during A's naptime; what if we had another $100k to spend on a house; what if we lived in a different city; how did my house get so cluttered; why doesn't my table and dinner look like a 4 star restaurant; why do I waste my time doing this - kind of bogged down.  Not that I live in negative land; I'm not bummed about any of the things above.  (Believe me, I would love to have that extra 100k, but...)  I am completely realistic and feel like I use my time well and am excited for what the future holds for my little family.  But yesterday I just felt behind all day.  All day!

I have always had an extremely active imagination.  That's one reason I have always loved to read so much.  In 2nd grade I imagined my name next to Nancy Drew's.  In 4th grade I wondered how a cute boy from class (a prince, of course) could find away to climb up to my room to rescue me since I didn't have hair like Rapunzel.  (Would he use a hot air balloon?)  In high school my "what ifs" involved the future: what if my high school boyfriend follow me to Samford?  Would we get married and move back to Lakeland to live happily ever after?  In college my "what ifs" seemed to be about other people: what if I looked like her?  what if I had clothes like her?  What if?  What if?  What if?

Now it is simply an imagination thing: I watch a show about kidnapping and lay awake wondering what I would do in the same scenario.  The initial offer we made on a house didn't work out, so I spent the next two days "what iffing" how we will bring a baby home into this two bedroom house.

When it comes down to it - active imagination or not - none of this is really a good thing.  How much mental energy do I waste contemplating a life I don't have?  Or beating myself up over my lack of magazine-layout-home-making-ability?  Or how my child looks just "normal" in her Carter's outfit and crazy hair?  Or how much easier _____ would be if Brad would just ______.  It's just so ridiculous!  It drains me and makes me want to drain our bank account to get these things - as if they matter.  It makes me a tired and annoyed wife and mother.  When in reality I cannot imagine my life much better.  Most women would be green with envy if they knew all the stuff Brad does for us.  And I'm pretty sure that even on her "normal" days, A is the cutest gal ever, and I'm so thankful for her (usually) sweet disposition.

I am thankful for a God that is all-knowing and powerful, and still interested in the little things of my life.  After "what-iffing" myself yesterday into a frenzy of work in the kitchen and laundry, a new long list of homes to check out, a list of activities for A and I, and all around exhaustion, the Holy Spirit woke me up this morning.  I am fairly consistent about waking up early enough for a quiet time before Addie gets up, except on Fridays.  That's our morning for breakfast out with Brad, so I wake up running.  This morning, however, I was up eeeaaarrrllly, and not by my own design.  :)  God had some words for me about desires of the flesh vs. desires of the Spirit.  He reminded me that just because I've been a Christian for a long time doesn't mean the "old" self doesn't rear her ugly head every once in a while - or daily, haha - and I need live in the freedom He provides.  Amen.

Oh, by the way, this afternoon we negotiated a contract for a house I love.  I love how God works.

He is Risen! He is Risen indeed.

Hey all.  Dusting off the ole' blog today while we wait for Daddy to get home from church to celebrate Easter lunch.  I hope you found a place to worship this morning and celebrate our Savior's victory over death.

We have had such a laid-back spring.  Lots of new things happening - potty training attempts, serious house-hunting, Brad basically working two jobs, and a couple of fun trips - but nothing huge.  (Well, yesterday when A tee-teed in the potty for the first time, it was a pretty big deal, haha.)

Oh, and we're expecting baby number 2!  I just realized I never got around to posting that.  We are thrilled and can't wait until September to meet this little guy or gal.  This pregnancy has been very different from my first, so I can't help wondering if baby Gowing # 2 will be a boy.  Brad, however, is still convinced we are having two girls, and has been so confident he's almost made me a believer, too.  (It would be pretty great to have a sweet pair of girls to grow up to be close friends.  And wear cute matching clothes when they're little.) So we shall see what the Lord's blessed us with in a few weeks at our next ultrasound.

Easter this year has come at a time when I've been especially aware of God working in our family.  It seems that every few days A makes some "revelation" from the backseat of the car or her stroller or crib or something, and I am amazed that He is already using people like nursery workers and Sunday school teachers to reveal Himself to her.  Here's what I mean: we passed a church with a cross in the window on our walk the other day.  She pointed to it and said "Jesus."  I agreed that it had to do with Jesus, and told her it was called a cross.  She proceeded to tell me "Jesus loves you."  Yup.

The next day we were in the car and I was singing "He's got the whole world in His hands."  (We have so many relatives that this song takes on about 15 verses, so it took a while.)  When I was finished, A said "wide world in hands. Addie loved Jesus."  Does that mean she loves Him because He has the whole world in His hands?  Maybe.  There's no way she get's all of this from Brad and I.  I guess it's all about that "village".

So this Easter Sunday I was especially moved.  Not inspired, but reminded and renewed, and possibly in need of re-defining my definition of "faith" with regards to how I will teach my kids.  The words of one song we sang in worship this morning comes to mind.  I'm sure you've heard it, but I'll repeat it here...

In Christ alone my home is found
He is my light, my strength, my song
This Cornerstone, this solid ground
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm


What heights of love, what depths of peace
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease
My Comforter, my All in All
Here in the love of Christ I stand


In Christ alone, who took on flesh
Fullness of God in helpless Babe
This gift of love and righteousness
Scorned by the ones He came to save


Til on that cross as Jesus died
The wrath of God was satisfied
For every sin on Him was laid
Here in the death of Christ I live


There in the ground His body lay
Light of the world by darkness slain
Then bursting forth in glorious Day
Up from the grave He rose again


And as He stands in victory
Sin's curse has lost its grip on me
For I am His and He is mine
Bought with the precious blood of Christ


No guilt in life, no fear in death
This is the power of Christ in me
From life's first cry to final breath
Jesus commands my destiny


No power of hell, no scheme of man
Could ever pluck me from His hand
Til He returns or calls me home
Here in the power of Christ I stand.

A few of my favorite things

I decided about 6 weeks ago that the best thing about parenthood was your child telling you she loves you, without being prompted.  I stand by that.  It is precious and heart-warming and wonderful.

Almost equally heart-warming is walking in on my sweet husband cuddled up and reading to our gal.

I also love that A is newly-proficient in putting shoes on.  She takes them on and off, over and over.  Quite entertaining.  This is from a few weeks ago.

A is also making all sorts of new faces, and has mastered the concept of "Cheese!"  She is definitely quite the ham.

Apparently she's excited about this cookie dough.

She can crawl up into the rocker on her own.
This is what I found.

"Cheese!"

                   
I am feeling abundantly blessed these days.  Tired from chasing the gal, but blessed.