In praise of girlfriends

Before I forget: here's a special birthday shout-out to my gorgeous red-headed twin sisters, Dorothy and Ruth, who turn 31 today. I love you both (and what would sisterly love be without me dragging out an old photo to commemorate the anniversary of your birth?)

And now, back to our regular programming...

This weekend Jim, Jimmy, Audrey and I made the trek over Snoqualmie Pass for a baby shower hosted by my buddy Lydia. While the boys had lunch and went on a quest for Jimmy's latest holy grail (a Spiderman wastebasket for his bedroom—sadly, not to be found), I got my estrogen fix hanging with some of my favorite girlfriends.

First, let me say that Lydia deserves some serious props for throwing the shower. Saturday morning, with less than four hours before it was supposed to start, she calls me because Roxy, her three-year-old, has been vomiting and she doesn't want to expose us to what ever bug poor Roxy is battling. The multi-tasking, creative super-trooper that she is, Lydia (at 7:45 a.m.) has already come up with an alternate venue for the shower (at Aubrey's, right down the block), and she just wants to make sure I'm okay with the change of plans.

Aubrey, who threw a party the night before, graciously let us take over her place and enjoy the gorgeous decorations (she created the beautiful strings of lights herself!) When I got there shortly after eleven, Lydia, Aubrey and Dyann were busy in the kitchen with all manner of amazingly delicious food. Thanks so much, ladies, for a wonderful party (and to Sundy, for the tasty pear salad).

One of the most amazing things about Audrey's birth is the way my girlfriends have rallied around and supported me—those that live close to me, as well as those far away. They've painted my house, brought our family meals, lightened my mood with cards and phone calls and emails, given us delicious fresh fruits and vegetables, baby sat or taken Jimmy on playdates so that I could rest and go to doctor appointments, visited me at home and in the hospital, thrown parties, showered me and Audrey with adorable and thoughtful gifts, and prayed for us to be well.

I'm always amazed at the strength we women draw from one another, and grateful particularly at this time to benefit from that. Thanks and love to all the women in my life: my mother, sisters, step-mother, mother- and sisters-in-law, and those who have chosen to be family even when they didn't have to—my friends.

Oh geez

Certain things come to you with greater clarity when you're not on painkillers. Like the ability to read the fine print on the little red sticker stuck to the bottle:

Use care when operating a car or dangerous machinery or when trying to compose poetry. May cause drowsiness or excessive schmoopiness.

Yeah. Whoops. Missed that one.

Poetry friday?

It's been a while since I posted any poetry because I've been too busy to really take the time for my poetry to process properly. But if I don't stop now and then... I'll wind up back where I was six months ago with no creative outlet and my juices fermenting in vain. And now that I'm writing again, I find that while I was MIA, my favorite poetry site is phasing out. I did get an email from Rob, one of my friends from Poetry Thursday about a new site, Writer's Island. Thank you, Rob!

Already the days are melting together, and while I know that my Vicodin-enhanced euphoria is partly to blame, it hardly seems possible that Audrey has been with us for a week now.

Looking back at my posts I realize that I haven't said much about her; just a passing mention of her weight and length. Maybe that's because I don't trust myself not to gush. I didn't think it was possible to talk about how much I love being a mother without straying into the realm of schmaltz. But I think motherhood has once again been fertile ground for poetic inspiration, and hopefully this won't be too sappy.


The New Math

You took my heart
the day we met
but you give as
good as you get
and so my love
always returned
equal measure,
interest earned.

Take my heart
divide by two
a piece for him
a piece for you
my love is halved
yet somehow there
is still enough
and more to spare

And now my heart
is split in three
the day she joins
our family
divisible
yet somehow more
my love is greater
than before.

What's not to love?

Audrey's been a bit jaundiced so we're making sure she gets some exposure to filtered sunlight each day. Yesterday we chased a patch of sunshine around the kitchen and when I caught sight of this little moment, I ran to get the camera. I knew when I married him that Jim is a good man, but I'm always amazed at how much tenderness and patience fatherhood brings out in him.

Oh, baby!

Meet Audrey Parker.


We just can't get enough of each other!


Getting ready to go home from the hospital.

Audrey was born on Friday, August 31 at 8:41 a.m. She weighed 7 lbs., 2 oz. and was 19 inches long. She's got lots of dark brown hair and right now her eyes are dark blue. We spent a couple relaxing days in the hospital recouping and getting to know each other.

I checked out earlier this evening and am glad to be back at home. Jim's taking three weeks off from work to stay home with us and I know that will be a big help in Jimmy adjusting to being a big brother.

And now, let the sleep deprivation begin!

To bee or not to bee?

Last night at 10:30 I finally finished Audrey's baby quilt!


Here's a look at the finished quilt.

This shows some of the detail of the hand quilting.



My friend Dyann came over from Bellevue with her kids the Saturday before last and helped me with quilting. Sneaky girl, when I wasn't looking she embroidered Audrey's initials inside a little heart on one of the corners of the quilt. So cute!

The whole quilting bee thing did not turn out quite as I expected. Even though I sent out invitations to about 25 people, I had a grand total of four friends show up over the course of all three Saturdays. The first Saturday only two friends showed up. So Debbie came over (after dealing with her goat issues), showed me how to do the rotary cutting, and I cut and pieced the top myself.

The second Saturday, no one came. I cried for a while (stupid pregnancy hormones!), wrote a cathartic poem, vented to Debbie on the phone, and then moved on and started the hand quilting on my own. During the week, Debbie came by again with her daughters and helped with the hand quilting.

On the last Saturday, Dyann and Mary were there and we did a lot of hand quilting. Since then, I've worked on my own to finish the remainder of the quilting and sew on the binding.

What did I learn from all this? Let's see... Not to pin my hopes and expectations on one "special" event or experience; things often don't turn out as planned. Real friends usually can't conform their schedules to your agenda because (hello) they actually have their own lives—but they always manage to pull through for you somehow, even if it's not the way you expect. And finally... there's a good reason people use quilting frames! But even if a quilt isn't perfect, all that love sewn in still makes it beautiful.

Cut loose

On Sunday I got released from my calling as a Young Women leader at church. For those of my readers who are not Mormon, this means that I'm no longer assigned to work with the teenage girls. Callings in the Mormon church are all voluntary; assignments are made and changed based on prayer and inspiration on the part of the bishop and his counselors.

I know that my being released was in large part due to the fact that I'm having a baby this week. Debbie, who is the president over the Young Women organization, gave me a heads-up last week that it was going to happen. She told me that even though she should technically have waited until it was official to let me know, she didn't want me to think it was because she wasn't happy with my performance in my duties. And I know that's true, even without her saying so. There were some other staffing changes that needed to be made and with my impending delivery, the timing was right to switch things up.

Part of me is grateful because I know that I need to devote all my attention to this little person joining our family. Now I'll have my Wednesday nights back, not to mention all the other odd hours here and there that I ordinarily spend in meetings, preparing lessons, making phone calls, creating motivational handouts, sleeping in a teepee at girls' camp, coordinating via phone or email with other leaders, and so on.

The thing is, I love working with the girls so much that I never really begrudged that time, and so now that it's sinking in that I've been released, I'm starting to feel a real sense of loss. On Sunday when my release was announced, the girls I work with all came up after church and said goodbye, some of them crying. I didn't cry much, mostly because I wanted to make the transition easier for them; they need to feel good about the new leaders who will be coming in, and its was neither appropriate nor conducive to transition to make this change all about me. And so I told them how much I confidence I had in the new leader taking my place, and cheerfully reminded them that I would still be seeing them every week at church.

It's hitting me today, I think, because later this morning I'm handing off all my leadership materials to the woman who's replacing me—and for the first time in quite a while, I won't be going to the weekly Young Women activity on Wednesday night. I'm just trying to remind myself what a priviledge it's been working with these particular women and young women, all the friendships I've developed that will continue on, and most of all, how much I've learned from and been blessed by knowing each of them.

God is good. He gives me the sweetness of such learning experiences, and tempers the bitterness of transition with other blessings to remind me that there is a season to every purpose under heaven.

Together at last

Remember when I was longing for a new diaper bag? Those days are over. It finally arrived last week.

While I'm sure that I will soon discover that it doesn't have as many pockets as I want or the inside isn't roomy enough or that it turns wrinkly after I wash it, we're still savoring the rosy glow, the splendor of being made for each other. The slick convenience of a magnetic closure, the silky smoothness of rich brocade, the luxurious flush of deep red and warm taupe, the freedom of a changing pad that isn't attached to the diaper bag. Sigh. Me and my Kecci Shanghai Mommy Bag. Feel the love.

O, blessed nesting

I love Anne Taintor's edgy vintage-with-a-twist creations. My fridge currently sports several of her magnets, although I don't actually own the design above. Somehow "disabled" seems too harsh a description of my reluctance to ardently pursue domestic prowess. After all, I'm great at laundry and meal management, and I'm a pretty decent cook. No, I prefer to think of myself as domestically disinclined. It's not that I lack skill; it's just that I lack the will.

So thank the heavens for that fabulous, wondrous, blessed phenomenon known as nesting. In the last four weeks I've gotten more housework done than in the previous nine months. Combined. I've sewn curtains for the baby room, cleaned carpets, scrubbed the kitchen floor, hand quilted a baby quilt, and kept ahead of the dishes. And I cleaned the upstairs bathroom. Including scrubbing down the shower.

Maybe I need to get knocked up more often.

Six days...

...and counting!