Sometimes the lemonade just makes itself

I've been going through a small rough patch. As one of my favorites would say, "They weren't the kind of thing you would run home to mother about. But I cried into my pillow now and again."

Then things started to fall into place. Everyone recovered from the stomach flu (even though it took Penelope more than a week before she was back to herself). My dead phone was not only replaced; it was upgraded. We finally got a new dishwasher. (That's right, boys and girls, my phone and dishwasher were both MIA for more than a week. I now know how pioneers lived.)

And even though things really were getting lighter -- though not necessarily better (life is generally good to me, you see) -- I couldn't shake the one big downer in my life lately: My little girl turns one this week.

One year old.

I've been planning her birthday party, which has changed at least a dozen times, for weeks in an attempt to get excited about it. But mostly, I can't help but feel like she's not my baby any more. And I'm incredibly sad about that. One of the most profound and breathtaking experiences of my life has been watching Penelope grow and learn and really become herself. And I love that, don't get me wrong. It's just amazing how quickly I have begun to feel unnecessary in the process.

A little less than a year ago, I was craving the day that the baby wouldn't need me for just long enough that I could go to the bathroom. Now she gets into anything she wants and is totally capable of entertaining herself. If she could open a baby food jar and figure out how to put a diaper back on, she'd be good to go. (I might be slightly exaggerating here, but only just.)

Today as I was getting her up and ready after her nap, she gave me a wonderful hug. (seriously, Penelope is probably the best hugger I have ever met. If you don't believe me, come over to our house with a pillow pet, squishy ball, or bean bag and just see what happens.) Then, out of the blue -- brace yourselves -- she gave me a kiss. A real life kiss on my shoulder. It was perfect. Slightly awkward. Totally sincere. And I hope she always proudly tells people that she gave her first kiss to her mommy.

Don't worry. I won't be letting her forget any time soon. Because, you see, it made my week. It was even better than finally getting a dishwasher.

Or an iPhone. But that was also really nice.

Maturation, or something like it

So, I like to think we've been doing some growing up lately. And not just Penelope, though she has hit some milestones. What's that? You're DYING to hear all about them? OK, well, if you're going to force me.

She has started enunciating her baby language. She forms actual syllables, and we can now officially claim to have heard her say "dada" and "mama," though she certainly didn't say them in any particular context. (Except for mama. Obviously she says that with more love than you could fathom.) She has figured out how to feed herself the little baby snacks. And she's only choked on one -- and I didn't completely pee my pants when it happened. She seems to process when we're frustrated or upset with her, and it makes me rethink my knee-jerk response to a lot of things.

She got her first balloon. Had we let her, I'm pretty sure she would have taken it to bed with her and lovingly stroked it all night à la Gollum and The Precious.

She also got her first glamour shot taken. It makes me want to die. In a great way.

It just seems like every day she gets exponentially older, more intelligent, more curious, more talented, more entertaining, and I just want to eat every moment up.

But, as I mentioned, this post isn't about her. It's mostly about me. Me trying to start some family traditions. Like family photos, even when I feel chubby chubby chubby. I know I will want to look back and see what our little family was like, and how genuinely happy we were even though we had little more than each other. Probably because we had little more than each other.

We're trying to make grown up decisions, like waiting to buy a house until it's the right time for us. Even though we want one so badly, and the market is right, and technically we probably could pull it off -- though it would cause so much stress financially -- yadda, yadda, yadda. We decided to follow the counsel that sometimes saying I love you is saying "we can't afford it."

I'm letting go. I've decided to stop blaming my frustration and shortcomings on others for things that happened aeons ago. I'm forgiving. I'm focusing inward. I don't like everything I see there, but it's getting better.

And you know what I'm learning in all of this growing up I'm trying to do? Sometimes growing up really sucks.

But I know I'm a better person for it. I know my marriage is stronger for it. And I know I'll be a better mother for it. And right now, that's better than anything. Even a house (she said reassuringly to herself). Yes, even a house.

ides of march comes again

today we have been thinking about penelope's uncle cameron. seven years ago today we lost him. i know he is doing well, and i have a feeling that he has been keeping a special eye on penelope. (he loves babies, you know.)

(which seems fitting since he was once a baby, too)

rather than focus on the loss of my ridiculous, hilarious, head-strong brother, i have been trying to remember all the tender mercies the lord has given me as a result of this experience. a greater sense of compassion for those who experience loss. an even more tender heart. a heightened appreciation for my family. a wonderful husband who brought me home a candy bar as my "ides of march" treat. an intense gratitude for eternal families.

most importantly, i have received (and continue to receive) a deep appreciation for the Savior.

i'm not feeling particularly articulate today (i am going to blame this on the new mom brain that has replaced my old thinking unit), so i will just share a quote that i have learned to be so very true (thanks, aunt lynda, for bringing it to my attention again!)

"The Lord compensates the faithful for every loss. That which is taken away from those who love the Lord will be added unto them in His own way. While it may not come at the time we desire, the faithful will know that every tear today will eventually be returned a hundredfold with tears of rejoicing and gratitude."

--Joseph B. Wirthlin.

we love and miss you, cameron. in your honor, i will try not to take myself too seriously this week and down a couple of root beers, too. but i don't plan on ordering the shrimp and steak combo for breakfast. that is just going a little too far.

(i also resolve to get more pictures of cameron on my computer...)

maternal ramblings: volume I

my mom always told me that being a mother is the best way to learn charity. since she is an expert on this mothering business, i knew she was on to something. but for some reason, i blocked out the "learn" portion of this statement, and assumed that charity just comes innately the moment a baby is born.

penelope's delivery was actually better than i had expected. i spent so much time psyching myself out over the terror of a c-section that i had made it out to be much worse than it was. sure, being paralyzed, mostly naked and strapped to a table in a room full of strangers is a bit unsettling. but as soon as jesse got to come into the room with me, it was one of the most thrilling experiences of my life. (this was the first of a million times i have asked myself how in the world some people do this on their own.) i will never forget the doctor's remarks during the surgery "wow, that is a lot of hair." "that is a really big baby." "how big of an incision do you think you need to make to get a baby that big out? AS BIG AS I JUST MADE IT!" (i imagine he was mentally high-fiving and chest-bumping his surgical team during the final comment.)

when i saw penelope's little face, i started laughing and crying at the same time. and the weirdest thing? i snorted. twice. i never snort. i have never felt so overwhelmed with joy in my life.

and while overall the experience has been 90 percent bliss, it's been difficult. people tried to warn me that the first few weeks of having a baby are hard. and i (mostly) believed them. but i had no clue.

none.

so far, i spend much of my time at home feeling like my life is oddly akin to groundhog day. the same thing over and over again. maddening. exhausting. desperately searching for some kind of relief. a combination of constant feedings, diaper changings, need to rest and recover and nearly total isolation (in an attempt to avoid exposing the baby to the joy of RSV season) isn't always a flattering fit for me. i have been known to devolve into what jesse and i refer to as "that crazy lady" that takes over my body.

luckily, i have received such thoughtfulness from other people. meals, visits, phone calls, gifts. it's been unreal. my dear sister even spent an entire afternoon in my bed with me after i passed out and was instructed by the husband that i wouldn't be going anywhere that day.

these acts of charity have begun to show me what it means to be a mother. selfless, patient and loving to no end. the selfless and patient part are still slow coming. but when i look at this little thing, the loving portion is completely effortless.

here's to working toward the rest of the combination.