Ready for my close-up....

People always told me about second child syndrome. But I still wanted to believe it would never happen in our home. That was back when I still used the word "never" with confidence.
For example, "I will never buy my kids' clothes at Wal-mart" (read previous post!).

When Arabella was born, I had her picture made at 6 weeks, 3 months, 6 months, 9 months, you get the picture. No pun intended. In addition, I pulled out my camera for every momentous occasion. Like her sleeping in her bouncy seat. I think I have six of those pictures in her baby album. No exaggeration. I hung them on the walls, I sat them on tables, any stationary surface in our house was likely to have a framed photo of our bundle of joy on it.

Then Abbigail arrived, and even though people told me, "You won't have hardly any pictures of the second one!" I didn't believe it. So a few weeks after she was born I defiantly scheduled a photo session. A few days before it, Abby's face started breaking out with "baby acne". I thought, well, I still want her picture, she's still cute. The day before the appointment I went to get her out of bed and instead of the adorable baby I had placed there, I found a red-faced bumpy little ugly duckling. Bless her

tiny heart, I cancelled the appointment. Then life ensued. We go busy. One day I finally succumbed to the guilt and stuffed a snapshot I'd taken of her into a frame and sat it on the sofa table. Till now it was the only picture of her on display.

So I finally got in gear and made an appointment at Potrait Innovations in Johnson City for some last minute Easter pictures of my girls and my neice, Ashlyn.

It didn't start out too well. As I often still do, I misjudged how long it takes to get two little girls ready. Especially when one is running around the house yelling, "I'm naked!" while you are trying to dress her, and the other

is liable to puke at the slightest provocation. On top of that, when I got Bella's outfit out to put on her I discovered that the size 3T outfit I had purchased her was actually a 3T shirt with a pair of 24 month leggings. I put 'em on her anyway. We're petite. We got out the door, and arrived at the studio on time. We did casual pictures first, and they went surprisingly well. Abby managed to spit up on me and Aunt Rachel, without messing up her own outfit, which was nice. And Ashlyn was a little uncooperative until a second photographer came over to distract her. (I swear, the girl was using Jedi mind tricks..."You will pose the way I want you to!").

Once those shots were taken, we got the joy of changing three little girls into tights, dresses, and patent leather Sunday shoes in the midst of a photo studio. Luckily they weren't very busy because we had our wardrobe change strewn all over the waiting area. But again, I was pleasantly surprised at how well they cooperated. Even Abby breezed through her first photo shoot like a pro.

Once we were finished, the photographer asked if I would like some 'diaper shots' of Abby, since I'd never had her picture made. I said , "Sure!", and we stripped her down to her diaper. I wasn't sure she would cooperate, since we'd been wallowing her around and changing her clothes for over an hour. The photographer plopped her down on a bean bag with a blanket over it, then wrapped a pink feather boa around her. Abby kind of swatted at it, and looked up at us like, "What are you doing to me?". But then the photographer started cooing and talking to her, and then....

Magic.

The sweetest picture. And so worth waiting for.

Death of a Name-Brand Snob

Well, it was a long, slow death. But she died happy. No, I didn't lose a beloved relative, I'm talking about my inner name brand snob. The one who, in college, happily paid seventy-five dollars to have her hair highlighted, and had to have clothes from American Eagle, Gap, Abercrombie...you get the picture. My inner name brand snob used to walk into AE and not just buy a shirt or sweater, but pick out a mannequin I liked and think, "Hmmm, I'll take all that in a size two." (the me who wore a size two has died, also, but thats another story!) She also would take the long route to anywhere in Johnson City so that she could drive-thru Starbucks for a double tall extra hot caramel latte. When her niece was born, she indulged in BabyGap khaki shorts and flowered onesies for a three month old.

The death began slowly and gradually enough. First, she got married, and got a little older. She realized she didn't like to be walking around in a t-shirt she paid over twenty dollars for, only to see a group of 13 year olds wearing the same one....goodbye, American Eagle. Then came the epiphany that you don't need blasting rock music, a smog of cologne, and posters of half-naked people in order to shop...adios, Abercrombie. She started buying her niece stuff that was on sale.

You know, JCPenneys really wasn't that bad.

Next she had a baby, and started noticing that JCPenneys had really good sales if you watched for them. And hey, Proffits put coupons in the Sunday paper! With the money she saved, she could afford to have baby's picture made more often. She bought a coffee maker for home, and you know, the flavored creamers are pretty darn good.

Then baby number two came along.

Okay, so lets drop all the 'she' stuff. You know I'm talking about myself. And today I bought new outfits for my daughters and my niece to have their picture made in.....at Walmart. (gasp!) And you know what? They are really cute! And I got them all for less than $25 dollars.

(Stands up) My name is Rebekah, and I buy off-brand clothing for my children. I've been doing this for about three months now. It used to be just every once in a while, but once I started, it was hard to quit. First it was just clothes, now it's food, too...the other day I went grocery shopping and came back with more store brand items than name-brand ones....and they were good...

Okay, all joking aside, I'm not going to sit here and tell you my kids never wear Gymboree (cutest clothes ever!) or BabyGap (you're never too young to be preppy!). But I will tell you I have never paid full price at Gymboree, and only once at Gap and that was for an Easter dress. Luckily, my big sis is a name brand snob, and I get her hand-me-downs. All the prestige with none of the price, hehe. Me, I go for the outlet stores and clearance racks. (Even at Wally world- today I got Bella some adorable pjs for $3, and socks for $.75 a pair!)

And you know what? It hasn't killed me yet.

The Broken Road

This past Tuesday, March 9, was a momentous occasion. There should have been a ticker-tape parade. The U.S. Postal Service should have issued a commemorative stamp. There should have been special news bulletins.

It was our fourth wedding anniversary. My favorite holiday.

I know to people who have been married twenty or thirty years, it must seem silly that I'm excited over four little years. Let me tell you, it was a long, hard road to get to these four years.

This story begins when I was in the eighth grade. I was in love with a boy we'll just call "J". Or at least, what passes for love in the eighth grade: I laughed at whatever he did, whether it was funny or not, and he stole my notebook and hid it from me. Anyway, at the end of the year he invited me to be his date for the Eighth Grade Banquet. Actually, "date" is a strong word for two kids who are nowhere near driving age. But I was exstatic. I wore my sister's hand-me-down banquet dress, mom did my hair, and his parents drove us.

We sat at a table with a girl I'll call "S." and her date, a guy named Kenneth who was two grades ahead of us. I danced every slow-dance with J, -except for one. I don't know why, and I don't recall the song that was playing, but for some reason I asked Kenneth to dance and he said yes.

Fast forward to the summer after I turned seventeen. We were both working at Food Lion, and had both just had a break-up with someone else, when we started talking and hit it off. The first night he called me, we literally talked for hours. We were pretty much inseperable from then on.

Eight months later, he proposed, and I couldn't say "yes" fast enough. I wasn't even eighteen yet, but I thought I understood the meaning of marraige and forever. I thought he was going to take care of me. We both thought we had time the change the parts of each other we didn't like.

I remember standing at the back of the church, zipped into my dress, veil just so, holding Daddy's arm. And he looked over at me and said, "You know you don't have to do this." And deep inside, I thought, "Yes I do! All these people are here, we have all those wedding gifts, we rented an apartment..." And I walked down the aisle.

It was more or less downhill from there. When my expectations weren't met, I nagged. He got angry. We stopped communicating. We were so young and inexperienced in life, we didn't even know how to find out what was wrong with our relationship so we could fix it. And then I think we both stopped trying.

Eighteen months after we said ,"I do," the judge said ,"You don't have to anymore." I moved back home with my parents, and it didn't take long to realize the emotion I felt the most of was...relief. I hadn't realized how miserable I had been. And though it was easy to lay the blame at his door, the truth is it takes two people to make a marraige work or fail.

So I moved on with my life, ignoring his attempts at reconciliation. I actually used the cliche'd phrase "over my dead body" when referring to any possibility of a future with him. I did whatever made me happy without bothering to consult a higher power. It didn't matter, he knew where to find me when the time was right.

So one night, after I was out of college and working in a dental office during the day, and helping out at Flick Video some evenings, I found myself thinking about failure, and forgiveness, and about Kenneth. I thought about what the Bible says about forgiving people. How if you pray with anything in your heart against someone, your prayer isn't heard.

So I called him. Just to apologize for the things I had done wrong, and to tell him I forgave him from the bottom of my heart. And I did.

We were married on Thursday, March 9, 2006. We met at the church after work, with a few close friends, and said our vows...again. Thirteen months later, our daughter Arabella was born. Her name means "answered prayer". She was joined this past December by her sister Abbigail.

And this past Tuesday, the florist delivered a vase with four beautiful red roses, and a card that read, "Happy Anniversary. A rose for every wonderful year."

I couldn't agree more. I love you, sweetie.

P.S. An interesting note: J and S are now married- to each other! They live not far from us, and have a beautiful little girl!

Taa-daa!

I decided to revamp my blog in honor of my wedding anniversary. Some people get their hair and nails done for their anniversary...I modify blogs. It takes all kinds. Actually, thats just an excuse. I've been wanting to change it for a while. Actually, ever since I started it. I was so eager to have a blog (since everybody does!) that I kind of just threw it together, kind of like you throw together tacos for last minute dinner guests when you have neither the time nor the ricotta cheese for lasagna.

This new blog is my lasagna. Enjoy, and please come back for seconds.

Sweet Dreams

Precious Lord, take my hand
lead me on, let me stand
I am tired, I am weak, I am worn
Through the storm, through the night
Lead me on to the light
Take my hand, Precious Lord, lead me home.

I just sung my beautiful baby angel to sleep. Precious Lord, take my hand. It may seem like an odd way to sing a baby to sleep. But it's how my mom sang us to sleep.

Abby is growing to look more and more like Bella. But they fall asleep so differently. Abby goes to sleep very suddenly. One moment she is all wiggling arms and legs, turning her head side to side, sucking on her pacifier as if it holds her last drop of sustenance....the next she is suddenly still...she turns her head to the side and takes a deep breath, her passy falling out of her half-open mouth, and then....sleep. You can almost feel it, that magic little moment when her dreams begin.

Bella is another story altogether! Once she has finally decided to surrender and stay in the bed, she lays on her back and plays with her fingers, or her glow-worm, or whatever toy she drug to bed with her. After a while she will lay it down, and yawn, and toss and turn a little. Then she'll lay very still for several minutes, just letting her eyes wander. Finally, they will close, but she's not there yet. For some reason, just before she falls asleep, she smacks her little lips. (they are shaped exactly like her daddys!) When I hear that sound, I know sleep is very near!

I always feel relief when they are both asleep...I think: "I can get things done!" I do dishes, I pack diaper bags, I tidy up the house. Maybe what I should be doing is watching them as they sleep, listening to each precious breath, remembering what a miracle they are. Thanking God that they are fearfully and wonderfully made.

After all, why should the angels have all the fun?

For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways. Psalms 91:11