Gifts from Friends

A colleague of mine is an avid textile artist, and along with a couple of other colleagues from my presbytery, enjoys producing works of art for members of the next generation as they appear. Here are the jacket and cap made for Micah--fitting just right his six-month-old frame. (Big Sister could not help but get in the way of the camera's eye.)

Thanks, Barbara, for your gorgeous work!

~ emrys

What the Church is For

Last month our congregation had to paint the inside of our new Sunday School rooms. While I was coordinating our workforce, a couple of the saints took it upon themselves to induct Gwendolyn into one of the disciplines of service:

She looks ready to paint, doesn't she?

~emrys

Multitasking

Parts of this entry are not recommended for middle-school age children.

4:30 am, the baby goes off.

Unnngghh. "I'll get the diaper." Sara grunts her acknowledgement. I roll out of bed and shuffle over to pick up Gwendolyn and take her into the bathroom.

I lay her on the changing pad and fumble around with her pajamas and onesie. Every snap button takes focus and effort. Step by step. Take it slow. It's early. Gwendolyn is grunting her displeasure, not yet moving to full wailing mode. That usually comes with tightening the diaper cover.

Rip, rip. The velcro on the diaper cover scratches the wee-hour silence. I pull the teeth of the diaper hooks out of the cloth. Here comes the part that requires coordination. I wipe a hand over my face and feel the crust in the corner of my eyes. Gwendolyn grunts, as if to ask me when this will be over with.

Then I hear the rumble from below: the tell-tale sign that the GI production line is about to distribute a package. I put a finger on the front of her folded cloth diaper, as if to prevent the thing from being blown off. I'm glad that didn't happen ten seconds later. I open up the diaper, pull it out from under her, and wipe the undercarriage.

Then I hear the gurgle.

It's now 4:35am, so the neurons are firing slowly. Too slowly. The gurgle announces that the GI production line is backed up and will momentarily release back-pressure. There ought to be sirens for these things. A single neuron--the late-night grey-matter security guard who's a little overweight and clumsy with his radio--sounds the alarm. Where's the burp cloth?!

Too late. A cascade of milk streams out of my infant's mouth and nostrils, coursing over her cheeks and onto the changing pad. There is the sour report of partially processed milk.

It's 4:36 am, and I finally get my hand on a burp cloth. I bring it to Gwendolyn's face and begin mopping up the slippery spill.

Then I hear the rumble again.

That single-neuron rent-a-cop in my brain drops his radio and wets himself. I know that sound. Hands frozen with a milk-soaked burp cloth around the face of my infant daughter, my bleary eyes look down at the naked underside of this milk-processing plant that is melting down and running over in all directions.

I hadn't put a new diaper down there yet.

Never was the word s**t more appropriate. The hard-earned final product of baby digestion ejects from its holding chamber all over the previously reusable diaper cover. How does she do both at once?

With the resignation that comes easily at 4:37 am, I finish cleaning up the top end. Now she's quiet, having relieved all production pressure. Thank God for that. I reach into the diaper drawer and pull out another cover. Somehow, in the Child Chernobyl that was my early morning, we hadn't managed to get anything stinky on the changing pad. That's one less piece of equipment we'll have to wash this week.

It's 4:40 am when I hand Gwendolyn to her mother for nursing. I've got one and a half hours left to sleep--if I can get the image of what just transpired out of my mind.

~emrys

Naps Like a Champ

I am so incredibly thankful that my little girl will sleep anytime - anywhere:  including at night.  Last night she 5 hours straight baby!  While I know this can change at a whim - for now, I'm taking it for the blessing it is!

~sjt

Waiting for Baby

January has been spent waiting for baby.  Early signs of intense “warm-up” labor gave me hope that Baby would come early.  After all, my brothers and I were all three weeks early for my mom- it was a reasonable hope.  I clung to my hope while the air around me was filled with the voices of all the moms whose children, especially their firsts, were late.  I clung to my hope as the false – I mean “warm-up”--labor continued, all month long.

I've declared that "I'm ready" for Baby for the last 3 weeks, because I was.  Many told me I wasn't because I hadn’t dropped, because my sides hadn’t filled out, because I wasn’t “big enough”, because, because, because.  But I was ready like a chaperone after an all-night lock-in is ready to go to sleep once the kids have all gone home.  I’m ready to hold the baby in my arms, not my abs.  I’m ready to share the baby with Emrys and our friends and families.  Not just the occasional kicking spurts, but the warm little wiggly person.  I’m ready to meet this Little One and have a face and a name to the kicks and wiggles and growing belly I’ve had with me for the last 9 months.  

 Now it’s two days past the due date and we’re waiting.  Friends and family in the internet nebula pass along their tricks that made their baby come.  If it’s on the Top-10 list for getting baby to come, we’ve tried.  I’ve tried walking, cleaning, walking some more.  I’ve vetoed the spicy food option since spicy food and I don’t get along well to start with.  My to-do list is cleared, my project list a semi-clean slate.  The crib is in place, the bags are in the back of the car and there’s a snowstorm predicted for tonight into tomorrow. 

 So I pick up my latest for-fun crochet project (which is turning out really, really cool and will be blogged after it’s gifted), sit back and wait.   I already went out in the freezing cold morning and walked around the track that the snowmobiles have made at General Clinton Park in Bainbridge, then walked all over the grocery store since it’s not one where I’m a regular.   And tomorrow, I may walk in the fresh snow, if we’re still waiting…

Sewing Projects

Today was sewing project day.  I have a list of sewing projects running and today I was working on checking them off.  One of the projects, Emrys has been geared up about since I started talking about it so he was home this afternoon and we worked projects.  

My first project was warm little beanies (hats) for The Kid.  We have lots of the little light weight keep the head warm at home hats, and a couple of heavier weight ones that, while super cute and I can't wait for them to fit the baby, for my own sake I hope don't fit on Kid's head until WAY after delivery! I was also gifted a nursing pillow (aka Boppy) and wanted to make a cover for it.  So I had some fleece and fish fabric so I used those for the cover I finished today, I have plans to make a second cover too with the same orange and speckled fabrics from the nursery that Granddad helped to pick out.  

Those were the warm up projects.  Then Emrys got home and we moved on to the MaiTai (and no, not the drink).  It's a baby-carrier.  We'd found some online but decided that we wanted to make our own so we could pick some fun colors and we're crazy and enjoy projects like this. I'm thinking that when I'm done carrying Kid for the first 9 months, then Emrys get's the next 9- or something like that.  While I'll let him give you the nity-gritty on the process, here's a picture of Emrys trying it out with his "baby". 

and the 34 week belly shot.  It's getting kind of  hard to pick stuff up off the floor :D

December Already!

Where does the time go.  It's December 10th already.  I'm 33 & 1/2 weeks pregnant which means The Kid is (hopefully) less than 8 weeks away!  Days have come and gone and we've been putting together baby gear, 

 decorating for Christmas, 

and trying to figure out The Dog, who's trying to figure out what's going on. (Or she's just trying to get us ready for being up in the middle of the night and giving us practice at the "why's the baby crying" game) 

I've been trying to get a jump on my year end accounting, processing candle orders, baking, and today, catching up on blogging and photos.  Make sure you click on the November tab to the right to catch up with us!

Baby Shower!

Most of you know that my Mom and Sister in Law have been the brains behind our ongoing online baby shower.  Well the fun hasn't all been online.  On Friday, after Thanksgiving, I was kicked out of the house so they could do their thing.  Dad and I wandered through (a relatively empty) Lowes and Stu Leonards to pass the time and when we returned, the family was ready to party.  

The living room was decorated in rubber duckies, balloons, baby clothes and streamers.  

The Niece and Emrys had a lot of fun with the gift opening.  

We were lulled by the womb-sounds teddy bear

And Emrys is still learning what all this stuff is for!

We are thankful to all who have contributed to "equipping" us as we prepare for the arrival of Little Tyler!

Be sure to check out the online baby shower for more pictures including the belly measurements (we had 3 cameras going!)

~sjt

This Thanksgiving I'm Thankful For...

... a clean 3 year check-up from the oncologist.

... a healthy baby on the way in January.

... family and friends.

...and so, so much more...

Happy Thanksgiving to you and your families!  

~sjt

7 Months

We're officially at 7 months along, 29 weeks, almost 3/4 of the way there!  Yeah, the math of pregnancy is a little wierd.  I still haven't figured it out.  Calculus I can understand, math pregnancy - still can't figure it out!  Anyway, all that to get to the fun stuff.  We are well, baby is active.  Names are being negotiated, ins and outs of cloth diapering are being investigated, nursery is coming along and we get to sneak away for some time together next weekend.  All is good.  And for those of you who keep bugging me for Belly Pix - here ya go :)  Make sure you check out the fun at the WebBabyShower too!

Leftovers

My habit of starting new projects all the time (a consequence of my "P" Myers-Briggs type) has liabilities and benefits. One liability is that any single project often takes more time to complete than if I only did one project at a time. Another is the resultant mess.

Let's not dwell on the liabilities, though. That's so gauche.

A grand benefit of always having many projects is that spare materials from one project-in-progress are always on hand for the next new project. Let me give you an illustration.

I was commissioned to make two large frames for a pair of mirrors, composed of MDF (medium-density fibreboard). This project required that I purchase two 4x8 sheets of MDF, even though I would use less than two-thirds of each for the frames. That left me with several hunks of MDF in my storage loft.

Then Sara discovered she wanted a table in the nursery, composed of a giant Rubbermaid (TM) tub with a hard surface set upon it. But she didn't want the surface to slide around on top of the Rubbermaid (TM). So she came to me.

Five pieces of MDF later, I have whipped together a tabletop that sits on the Rubbermaid (TM) bin, snugly without sliding around. What a great use for leftovers!

To boot, I painted the tabletop in the colours of the nursery which were--you guessed it--left over from the nursery walls.

The frames you see on the floor are for pictures in the baby's room. They, too, benefited from my leftover paint.

~emrys

Don't Roar At Me!

Last night Emrys was playing with the dog and growling and roaring at her trying to get her to play.  She didn't want to and didn't give him any sort of response.  Then making the comment that he hoped The Kid was more responsive than the dog, he came over and roared playfully at my tummy.  To which The Kid hauled off and boxed me, or kicked, not sure which.  I've been feeling little light movements and kicks and stuff but Emrys must have scared the dickins out of The Kid because that one I felt and had to rub out!!  

Then this morning I read on one of the little pregnancy tracking tickers the baby's saying: "My ears are much more sensitive this week.  Would you keep it down out there!?!"  Wish I would have known that yesterday!

New rule: No roaring at The Kid until it's out and can kick the roar-er!

Let the Fun Begin!

With Baby on the way, my Mom and Sis-in-Law wanted to do a shower.  Then they realized that our family is spread all over the country as well as many of our friends.  Since purchasing plane tickets for a baby shower is kind of absurd, they decided to break the rules of geography and are hosting a Web-Baby Shower.  You still get to guess when the baby will be born, boy or girl, weight and lenghth.  There are still games, prizes and chances for conversation and gift opening.  The related links for the baby shower have been added on the right.  Consider this your invitation to join us in welcoming our new little one :). 

~sjt & emrys

P.S.  Our little family gathering to open gifts, measure The Tummy etc will be on Friday, November 28th - day after Thanksgiving.

Harmony

Note: the photos and text of this entry match only by coincidence in time. The photos show the process of painting the nursery; the text reflects the kind of thing I think about as I work on such home projects. I will not be offended if you choose only one as the focus of your attention here.

In the last few months, the Lord has made me especially sensitive to the problem of human reconciliation. This problem is, by definition, the quandary that arises when two parties once at peace with one another find themselves in conflict, and desire (or don't desire) to return to a place of peace. To "re-conciliate" is to return peace where presently conflict abides. And I have found, of late, the matter of returning to peace sticking in my side.

When I hear the word peacemaking, someone is usually associating it with some grand social or political problem such as the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, or Muslim-Christian relations, or the negotiation of a massive strike in the automotive industry. To attempt reconciliation in these situations one must step into a wide quagmire or details and relationships while the bullets of rage and vengeance scream overhead. But I have discovered that the bullets fly no less speedily over the field of family or individual conflict.

Conflict pierces at the human soul. We were designed for what the Hebrew scriptures call "shalom," or peace in self and relationships. Offence, real or imagined, striking at us from within one of these relationships, threatens the peace in which we want to live. As physiologists have taught for decades, threats to self and self-interest produce a fight-or-flight response, born in the autonomous nervous system. We separate ourselves from places of conflict, or we attempt to defeat--directly or indirectly--that which threatens us. In the case of human conflict, we therefore cut ourselves off from other people, or make an effort to subjugate them with logic, influence, raw emotion, or gossip.

But even as we respond to conflict in that knee-jerk, animalistic way we know that doing so will not bring peace. Fight-or-flight brings a momentary safety, but it does not bring back the shalom in which we lived before. To remain in flight means forever having to avoid someone else--not so easy with a co-worker or family member. To remain in a fight means expending energy damaging another person at every encounter--an activity which while sating the blood-thirst of vengeance for a split second fills the mouth with bitterness that does not fade so quickly. Living life on the run along an endless track, or in the ring with no bell, presents a person with a horrid future. The Spirit, crying out in the depths of our souls, wants peace back. And this desire resonates with something deeper than our autonomous nervous system.

Humanity is fated to live within time; we cannot go back and change the past. Thus our actions have become set in stone. Re-conciliation cannot happen by erasing the past. The stained tapestry cannot be un-woven. We cannot make peace by pretending the offence never happened. Thus peace-making entails trudging back through the muddy wastes of the conflict, unearthing mines of impressions, thoughts, words, and grief placed by both sides of the war. To reconcile is to redeem; and land cannot be redeemed unless it is re-possessed; and land that no one's foot has touched is not possessed. So peacemaking means stepping into a minefield of anger and sorrow, stepping lightly but always wondering if the next footfall will unleash a world of hurt and fury.

I think it rare that in any conflict only one side bears all guilt. Wrongdoing seems to beget wrongdoing faster than possums populate New Zealand; with the haste of a spreading fire guilt consumes both sides of a conflict. Thus to enter the minefield means unearthing guilt and shame for things done and left undone by both sides. So pride whispers to those in conflict: "Do not enter there, for your sin will be exposed." And on the heels of pride comes fear, the most persuasive and ever-errant counselor of humanity, encouraging us to let bygones be bygones (as if any of us can separate from our pasts) and risk not the bald accusation of our own actions. Even as the peacemaker prepares with trepidation to bear the heat of conflict, the opposing parties look with dread upon the prospect of facing their own complicity in the war.

It seems to me that the first--and perhaps most difficult--task of the peacemaker is to instill trust in the conflicted parties. So she must hold out hope: hope that the conflict will not be perpetual; hope that each party will not be irreparably destroyed by the mines that have been laid; hope that the difficult work of reclaiming a war-torn field will actually produce peace. I have found this task to be daunting. Deep conflict engenders deep separation and anxiety, piled atop anger, vengeance and pride. Though I have a rich imagination and trust in the power of the Spirit, holding out hope--thinking it, speaking it, repeating it--taxes my reserves.

How I wish that clearing the minefield could be done by the third party, the peacemaker, the individual UN Task Force, while the opposing sides looked on! But alas, only those who have laid the mines--only those who have loaded the past with anger, guilt, and shame--can defuse these weapons of relational destruction. The peacemaker can say, "Look, isn't that a mine? Isn't that where anger bubbles up? Isn't it right there that a great grief lies?" But the technology of hatred and conflict is proprietary; knowledge of how the trigger works and which wire to cut rest solely with the one who made the mine. It is not work that another can do for them; it is work that the adversaries must do themselves--and perhaps together.

Overcoming fear with trust is the labour of the peacemaker. Only in doing so can people entrenched in conflict be brought to talk, learn, negotiate, and reconcile. "How can I ever forgive . . . ?" are words spoken by someone who does not hope. "I can't say I'm sorry," are words spoken by someone who does not trust. The peacemaker cannot command these words of sorrow or forgiveness, but the peacemaker can encourage trust and hope.

Trust and hope are intangibles, however. They do not have a concrete value like shares in the stock market; they cannot be proferred from a wallet in a moment of need. They come with time and words--lots of words. Like the rising trust that citizens acquire for a presidential candidate by hearing him speak again and again, trust in people and hope in their dreams come by much encouragement and many words. So the work of the peacemaker includes some grand tedium: think of how many times we've been told that international figures are having talks with Israelis and Palestinians--again. Why can't they all just get along--right now? Because trust takes time; hope requires ages to instill and even longer to bring action. The peacemaker must stand firm in hope through all that time.

People can be reconciled with each other. There is hope for all those in conflict. I shall not make the mistake of thinking that hope makes things simple. But hope engenders trust, and trust makes reconciliation possible. Thus hope makes things possible. The fracture of shalom, and the peace of our relationships, can be healed if we will have the courage to return to the Normandys of our conflicts and clear the beaches of barbed wire. We must meet on the Flanders Fields of our pride and put enmity to rest. We must unemploy the counselor of fear and bear the guilt in order that it might be released at last. And we must help each other to do so, for facing dark and painful pasts is not something to be done alone. Then again, how much richer the joy when we find ourselves at peace and have someone else with whom to celebrate it!

"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God," from the gospel according to Matthew, 5:9.

Shalom,

emrys

Back to School? and Other Updates

While all the kids around us are headed back to school, it seems that the pace of our life has doubled or tripled from a month ago and we don't even have kids headed for school yet! Unless Emrys counts.

Yup, that's right - Emrys is taking a Philosophy of Coaching Class. Upon volunteering to help with the local soccer team, he found out that due to NY State red tape, he has to work towards a NY Non-teachers Coaching certificate if he wants to continue working with the high school soccer program beyond this year. Which he does, and so he finds himself jumping through the necessary hoops. So as the weather turns cool his days are filled with work, soccer practices and games and class. I get to see him every once in a while... usually to eat! and I have mandated a one-night-a-week-at-home rule for this crazy fall. So far it's worked but we're only 2 weeks in.

I've managed to keep the house clean for 10 days now and have kept up with my cleaning maintenance lists- I'm proud of me! This week I spent two half days pouring candles and cranked out almost 30 lbs of candles to get ready for Greene Applefest at the end of the month and to get a couple of my retailers set up for fall.

I've also been managing the buckets of produce coming in from the garden. Right now its mostly zucchini and squash finishing up, basil & cilantro still growing like weeds and tomatos. I have LOTS of green tomatos that are slowly ripening up. From this week's pickin's the 4 lbs of tomatos are currently in the crock-pot to make this amazing looking tomato soup. There's heavy cream involved so Emrys was all about trying it! Since Hanna and Gustav have both sent rain our way for today it's wonderfully cool so I also made up a bunch of this yummy zucchini bread. I think since it is cool out and I'm more in the mood to bake today than to deal with the mess that is my candle work room I may also make this focaccia bread to go with the soup for dinner. We'll see how far my energy lasts!

Next weekend I'm headed for Manchester, NH to visit a friend from college, and YOU if you're in town, let me know! In addition to visiting friends and family, the ulterior motive for the trip is to raid this friend's closet for maternity clothes! While The Tummy isn't quite ready for the full on maternity stuff yet, it's getting there and some bigger tops will be nice!

Speaking of The Tummy and Baby Tyler, we had our 19 week ultrasound last week which means today I'm at 20 weeks and half way there!! Baby is perfectly healthy and, well, big! For 20 weeks anyway. Baby measured at about 6 inches long and 10 oz in size. I continue to fight The Kid for my appetite but manage to eat pretty healthily when it gives me the chance. I don't feel ill or morning sick or anything - just no appetite. In my world this means I have to remember to eat, which I'm not very good at. Especially if I'm home alone.

Foreshadowing

The last two days the dairy that owns the field behind our house has been spreading manure. Today I poured baby-powder scented candles for a baby shower. My house smells like poop and baby-powder and I can't help but think that this is hints of things to come! (Note to self: must invest in good diaper pail.)