I know I shoudn't have but...

I totally messed with a mom at the park.

Dez, Eliot and I were at the park in a fairly open space. Eliot was off playing and Dez was crawling around. I'm not really a helicopter-type-of-mom so I was giving Dez some space to explore. Another mom sat next to him on a curb to tie her son's shoe.

Dez was playing with a stick. The mom started looking around. (clearly for Dez's mother.)

She waited a minute. Then looked around the park again. A little more slowly.

Apparently Dez playing with a stick made her nervous so she asked him to give it to her. Once it was safely removed, she started looking around again, a bit more frantically this time.

She was starting to get a little panicky so I walked over.

"Is this your daughter?" she asked urgently.

"No," I said, "that's not my daughter."

=) Which is 100% true, people.

The Fro.

Dearest family and friends,

In answer to the most commonly asked question right now, No, we're not cutting his hair.

From the beginning, it was recommended to wait until he was at least a year old. That time is here now and it's not going anywhere. We're obsessed with the fro. We love it. We want it to grow bigger, actually.

So, get used to it. It's gonna be here for awhile. Embrace it.

(Not literally, he'll get mad and give you a dirty look.)

Wordless Wednesday

This pic almost didn't look like this.

This little turkey is fast. And curious. And thinks he doesn't need to listen to the word "no."

I'm already blaming him for the increase of my grays, and he's not even a year old. He might be our emergency room baby.

He's been crawling since 8 months and looks like one of those mechanical baby dolls you wind up and let loose. He's still so itty bitty.

One morning Eliot was playing in the living room, I was finishing getting myself ready. Dez usually doesn't leave Eliot's side, no matter if Eliot's playing with him or not. But that morning he was crawling between my place in the back of the house and back up front where E was.

Then I felt it. The pause in the air. I froze and listened intently while walking rapidly out of my room. The pause interrupted by Desmond's cry. The cry that makes you run the last few steps left between you and him.

From the last moment I checked on him, it took just a few seconds for him to be in the bathroom. He knew exactly where he wanted to go. Straight for my curling iron which I'd just unplugged moments ago, which I'd tucked as far back and up as possible to cool off.

He was sitting on the floor, the curling iron in front of him, crying. A deep cry.

I frantically searched his face, his arms, his hands, his feet looking for the burns. Everything appeared intact. The only sign of anything was a scratch (that didn't even break the skin) from the seam of handle.

He had pulled the curling iron off the stand by the cord. He must have reached his short chubby arms all the way between the stand and the sink to reach it. I have no question that God intervened so that only the handle made contact with the little investigator. Even with it sitting on the floor in front of him, he didn't attempt to grab it, which is also a miracle.

These moments are one of my least favorite parts of parenting. Thinking over the "what if"s. Immediately I thought of
this incident from when eliot was 2 1/2. I still have no idea how Eliot got out of that unscathed.

Mr. Miyagi meets cheesy The Bachelor analogy. You're welcome.

If you saw our last 12 in 12 in '12 date, you know we are now professional rock climbers. (maybe "professional" is a bit strong) When I signed up for this back in December I asked lots of questions, wondering what we would have to do in order to climb. Would we need classes, etc. They casually mentioned "auto belaying" and said that's all we'd need, that we could indeed climb without a great deal of instruction. Because when I'm risking my life, climbing 35 feet in the air, I want the least amount of instruction possible. Straight wisdom, people.

When we arrived, the friendly worker showed us the auto belay system, explained how it worked, and set us free in less than 5 minutes. Signing the waiver actually took longer.

See the red wire in front of both of us in these pics? That's the auto-belay. At the bottom, it's attached at two places to our harness. The other end of it goes all the way to the ceiling, attached to a pulley with quite a bit of tension. So much tension that the first time I carabinered in (I just made that word up, I think! Feel free to use it) my feet lifted off the floor and I had to grab the wall.

My first attempt wasn't very successful and I immediately regretted the whole idea. I didn't know how to get back down and I had no intention of going any higher. Then I saw the lady next to me finish her climb and gracefully glide back to the ground, pushing off the wall.

I tried it since she made it look so easy. I hit the wall. Cuz I'm awesome like that.

I climbed again to the same height and tried falling again. This time smoother, sparing the wall from by body slam. I felt like I got the hang of it. (get it? My dad will be proud of that one.)

My next turn was more successful and I was able to reach the very top.

{Put that story off to the side for a minute}
{and stop checkin' out my booty}

Our church is studying James right now and the last two weeks have addressed the first section of chapter 1. The whole "consider it pure joy when you face trials" thing. The question was raised, "how do you handle trials? what's your reaction?" A few months ago our church filmed us sharing our story. In talking through what we wanted to say, I realized something.

During infertility trials, I went through a lot of anger at God. During Eliot's adoption trials, I yelled at God a lot (and other people...). When Russ and I have struggled with trials in our marriage, I question "Why God?!"

However, when the adoption fell through last spring, there was no anger at God, no questioning His ways, His plan. There was devastation and deep grieving, but nothing directed AT God.

{Aaaaaand tying them together...}

I think we've learned how to fall. We've certainly not "arrived" but looking back, I think we're getting better at it, even if we hit the wall every so often.

And the take away? Learning how to fall means climbing isn't as scary, taking risks isn't as intimidating.

Wordless Wednesday

4/12

For our 4th installment of 12 (dates) in 12 (months) in 2012, we kicked things up a notch. I hadn't rock climbed since college and Russ had never been, so I got us one-day passes.

Turns out Russ is not only really good at climbing, but is super hot while doing it. Win/win.

Watch the progression of the line in the wall to track my progress. And... be proud.

As stated on fb, I was attempting a "serious rock climber" look but landed somewhere around "Roller Derby Chick".

After we could no longer use our forearms for even the smallest climb, we turned in our harnesses and headed for Pappy's, a local BBQ fav. Then off to the park for a picnic since it was such a gorgeous day.

Life is super busy right now and doesn't seem to be slowing down any time soon. I know that without these dates planned we either wouldn't be going out or wouldn't have the time/energy to do anything fun. As the year progresses, I'm more and more thankful I found this project. Can't recommend it enough. For more peeps doing the same project, go here!

And it begins...

Hypothetically...

If a friend happened to forget to use her parking break at an uphill gas station, her car might have started rolling backwards.

She might have turned quickly yelling "OhCrapOhCrapOhCrap" while attempting to use her hands to stop the vehicle? Not her smartest move.

Upon realizing that, she might have run as fast as she could, still yelling, back to her door, swung it open, jumped back inside and pulled the parking break up.

She might have had to restart the car, moving it back up to her original spot to safely get gas.

Upon getting back out of her car, she might even get applause from those around her.

Hypothetically.

Eliot at 5: bad guys and unrequited love

He is 100% boy. He's constantly watching for bad guys, usually wearing a super hero costume.

He dances when he's hyper (including one he calls The Fancy Dance).

He yells that he wants to punch stuff even when he's not mad. Punching is a show of affection for him.

He loves watching sports, playing sports and wearing sports related clothing.

He has 8 million matchbox cars and action figures and plays with the majority of them for hours at a time.

He wants to play baseball when he grows up and drive a car with a cool spoiler. Because all cars with spoilers are race cars.

He thinks cool shoe laces make him run faster.

He still giggles.


He laughs/cheers at Dez's every move, every accomplishment.

He's still crushing on the same girl from pre-school, even when she "tells on him" for asking her to marry him. He bought her Hello Kitty chocolates for Valentines Day since Hello Kitty is her favorite. He hangs his coat on her hook because it drives her crazy. (enter nature vs. nurture conversation, RussellMohr) He calls her "Sweet Cheeks."

"We" have a stick collection outside the front door. Right next to our rock collection.

His skills are evolving across the board. Because they're all so new, they're exciting each day. Every time he reads a page, hits the ball, sounds out a word when spelling, etc.

"Stupid" is still the worst bad word.

Saturdays are awesome but not because he's off school, but because our family is all together.

Snuggling and reading with mom is still fun and a good reason to stay up late.

When Eliot yells "Dance Party" it's mandatory you participate. His jam is "Pray" by MCHammer. Yes, yes it is.

There's still remnants of mispronouncing words. Guatemole instead of guacamole, ya know, stuff like that. We've instructed all teachers to leave them alone.

He often takes surveys, usually at meal times that start with, "Raise your hand if you___". (if you're eating carrots, if you like blueberries, whatevs.)

(I've apparently been rocking the top knot often...)

6 is right around the corner and it's killing me. The more grown up he's getting, the more amazing he's becoming. Russ and I are slightly obsessed. As is Desmond. I was reading my journal from early 2006 when we'd accepted a referral only to find out it was a miscommunication and that child wasn't available. We were crushed and discouraged and couldn't imagine what could be ahead of us that would be worth all the trials to get there. The next available referral was this fuzzy blob:

Turns out God knew what He was doing...