How many people can live in the same town with both of their–not only living–but healthy enough to pop over for brunch, grandmothers.  We feel so blessed, and I am ashamed that I don’t take advantage of my ability to soak up their love and wisdom and grace and humor more often.

Kendall clipped these yellow roses and Queen’s lace from my Aunt Alice’s yard.  Then, she mixed some of Mom’s china with her own to complete our sweet table.

Kendall, I’m sorry that the only picture I took of you was when you lit the candles for those few minutes…before we realized that it was too cheesy to have candelabras burning at 10 am.

My tomato tarts were photo-worthy, if I do say so myself.

As was Kendall’s DELICIOUS fried okra salad.  I ate mine and then finished Mimi’s off when she wasn’t looking

We also made a ham and swiss quiche, fruit salad, and pistachio muffins.  It was good.  I tell it like it is, and there wasn’t a bad thing on that plate.

Along with the food, we reminisced over memories of Mimi’s husband–my Papa–who was Sheriff for 16 years and never once carried a gun…apparently he was intimidating enough without one.  I remember the man who used to take me with him to the barber shop, and bought me a gingerbread after his appointment was over.  A pig farmer, who let me ride beside him in his truck while my cousin Boyd (6 or 7 at the time) playing gate man–wordlessly hopping out of the truck each time Papa paused, to run open and close each gate that we drove through.

We also heard about how Mimi’s opinion that I was “plum crazy” for delivering a baby without medication.  She slept peacefully through the births of all four of her children, with the use of “some kind of gas”…I think I may request that this time around.  Sounds like a good deal to me!

Evelyn Runnell Clark, “Ruby Pearl”, Mimi, my Dad’s mom

We talked about the way Grandma still loves to sleep with her face touching “Sollie’s” back–despite the fact that he has been having recurring bad dreams about snakes, during which he nearly knocks her out of the bed. Is anybody else laughing out loud?

We compared my Uncle Greg’s night-time terrors as a six-year-old to Pace’s night-time terrors and decided that maybe she inherited her sensitive heart from him.

We laughed about how, with her first baby, Grandma followed her doctor’s instructions so to-the-letter (He TOLD her that her water would break and THEN her contractions would get closer together and she could come in to the hospital.  When her water never broke, she kept refusing to go to the hospital–despite the tremendous amount of pain she was in.) that she nearly gave birth at home with only “Preacher” (her nickname for Grandpa) to help.  Apparently the nurse said, “If you had stayed home any longer, you would have just spit that baby out.”  My water never breaks until the baby comes either

Catherine Evelyn Sollie, “Sister”, Grandma, my Mom’s mom

As you can see, Kendall and I may have rocked our brunch menu, but the priceless part of the day was the quiet, uninterrupted “girl talk” we shared with the these women we love.  Happy Birthday Grandma and Mimi!!! I think we should make this a new tradition.

That I am already 26 weeks along and due on August 6?

That it’s looking like these may be the ONLY two men in the Maddox family?

That in this picture all FOUR of us are expecting (even though Caroline didn’t know it yet)?

These are my sisters, in case you didn’t know. And I have good reason for the crazed look in my eyes.

That in a 6 month time frame, my Dad and Konie are going to double the number of grandchildren they have–from 5 to TEN?!

That we are all a little worried that we may burst with joy or craziness…and we’re leaning toward the crazy at present?

Life is full, and we feel so very, very blessed.  I am not going to make any more promises or vows about being back soon, but I do miss this space ever so badly.  I am still constantly writing blogs in my head and hoping that there will again come a day when I get to put them down on paper. Right now though, I feel certain that I can only handle the things jumping up and down at my feet and screaming for my attention…Maybe we could invent a computer that screams as loud as a baby if you don’t pay attention to it??

Now that I am much more of an Instagrammer than a Blogger (that feels like a dagger to my heart), and there are new people in my virtual life that have no idea why I have this bizarre passion, I feel the need for a little explanation.  So, if you made it over here from Instagram-Welcome!  There is a bit of the back-story and one of my most favorite V-day ghost memories here, and if you care about what we were up to in 2009, 2010, and 2011 you can have a good laugh at how much we’ve changed, like I just did.  In 2012, Jay Paul was a few weeks old so a card to our friends was about as creative as I could be.

After two years of slacking, it was time to make a Valentine’s Day Ghost comeback!  I decided I wanted to create a breakfast “picnic in bed” for a few of our friends and family (who were in town on the big day).

No, I did not make the yogurt, but I did slice the fruit

And I made some granola.

Ordered some coffee from our favorite Seattle dealer!

And while I tried to tell myself to step away from the plastic-ware, I just could not resist rolling them up.

Packed away with some coffee cups.

And away we went with our little red baskets–who made me so happy I wanted to pinch them!

I was also in charge of Mary Aplin’s class Valentine’s day party.  Here I was finishing up the cupcakes with two of my goblins.

And don’t you worry for a second that I forgot my true Valentine this year!  He lost his wedding ring (Again!). It happens a lot in the OR–at least if you are my husband.  You aren’t allowed to wear a ring when you’re scrubbed in, so he ties it in the tie on his britches.  Then, if he changes clothes before coming home…down the laundry shoot goes the ring.  His mother warned me about this dilemma before we got married.  Prepared as I was, I haven’t bought a ring from a jewelry store since that first ring (almost) 10 years ago.  We have bought rings at Walmart, from street vendors, and even fashioned them from random scraps lying around the farm.

I decided it was time for a real ring again…

And since it was a real ring, it came with a real proposal.

I paraded through his busy clinic with these balloons, then got down on one knee and asked him to marry me–again.

He said yes

And then we went away for the weekend to a friend’s farmhouse with four other couples who are dear to us.  I will hold back from dumping all those shots on you, but this is my favorite from the weekend.  Jeremiah and I came in from a morning run to find all these busy little bees happily preparing breakfast together.  I love community.

Almost as much as I love Valentine’s day.

Everybody told me that little boys were different, but your sister (Dapples) was so tom-boy-like I was sure that I had already experienced the rough and tumble life a boy would bring.  Oh how wrong I was!  It’s not enough for you to look at life, or touch it, or taste it…you want to SMASH it.  Everything you pick up, you slam back down, and if you can’t pick it up (say my face, for instance) you smack it or smush it until someone makes you stop.  The most delicate handling we’ve seen occurs with your pointer finger.  You love to point with that single outstretched digit and cry, “This! This!” until someone names it for you.  Then, once satisfied that you’ve heard the object’s name, you go in for the fingernail swipe, as though you plan to hook whatever it is, there on your fingertip.  So what, if it happens to be your sister’s eyeball!

One Day

One Month

You pull hair mercilessly.  The only place you are truly happy is on my hip, and if I happen to need both of my arms for a minute or two, then you pull up on my legs, look up to me with utmost pleading and whimper and cry until I sweep you back up.  You hate schedules.  Deny them positively.  Just as soon as I think I have one down, you decide to change your mind.  And this has always been your attitude towards sleeping through the night.  You may have slept your first 8-hour stretch at 6 weeks, but that didn’t mean you wanted to do such a thing EVERY night.  Sometimes you’ll sleep all night long for a month in a row, but then for three weeks in a row you wake up once or twice, just like you want to be sure we still know you’re there.  Your Daddy has started referring to you as our one-year-old newborn.

Two Months

Three Months

Despite all these things, none of us can resist you.  You are unquestionably the current darling of the family.  Mary Aplin takes your hair pulling with a smile.  Pace actually requests that you try to bite her.  Daddy calls you “My Boy” and says “Give me a keeesss” (kiss) in a stickily sweet voice that I never imagined he could create.  And as for me…well…I think I am the most hopeless of all.  I adore every last little ounce of you, even though I miss my second arm and wish you wanted to play independently for longer than 3 minutes at a time eeeevery once in a while, I wouldn’t trade my time being your (sorry to the rest of the family) uncontested favorite for one second.  You are my boy.

Four Months

Five Months

I’ve loved the quiet times, feeding you in the dark.  I’ve loved the exciting times, watching you discover new things and delight in the smallest joys.  I’ve loved watching you shine as soon as your sisters come into view.  I’ve loved seeing the way your Daddy cherishes you.  I even love the passion that makes you smash and overturn everything in your path, because it gives me a glimpse of the strong man I know you will be one day.  It helps me to cherish these long days with you on my hip, because I know they are short.

Six Months

Seven Months

Your smile is like a little white pony tied with a big red bow on Christmas morning.  Your laugh is like the tinkle of raindrops on a tin roof.  Your squeal is like breathless joy.

Eight Months

Nine Months

Your first words started at around 9 months.  It’s always hard for me to know when babies REALLY know what they’re saying, but we think your first word was “Dada”, followed closely by Sis (for sister), Lala and Lili (the two favorite dogs in your life), and Mama.  You love to tell us “Night, night” and “Bye Bye”.  You look forward to your morning and night “Baba” (bottle).  And at Thanksgiving you loved to bat at anyone’s hand who approached you (on my hip) and say “Na, Na!” (translation “No! No! don’t you take me away from my Mama.”)  Papa is a solid word in your repertoire, and there are a few others that your mother is still not solid in translating.

Ten Months

Eleven Months

You are a gift.  You are so stinkin’ hard.  You like to wrestle and give big open-mouth kisses that frighten and delight us both.  You are all rough boy and a squeezable cuddle-bug.  You charge at life.

Twelve Months

Happy Birthday Babybus, and Happy New Year too.

1st Birthday

{Yes, this letter is 3 days late.  His birthday was New Year’s Eve}

Whitney, I can actually hear you laughing now, telling me this is too dramatic and that I am shaping up to be the scariest mother-in-law in the history of the world.  But here it is anyway

Every single great man,
Was once a mother’s baby boy.
All that strength she held within her arms,
Would soon stand firmly on the floor.

She watched his fingers fumble,
To grasp the toy and hold tight.
Now she watches with pride and wonder,
His pen weaving wrong to right.

He drew his breath and squealed,
For the delight of a single ball.
And she holds her breath with fear,
As he sprouts wings above them all.

Two steps up he’d crawl,
Then rest, smile back for her.
No backwards glance now needed,
As he summits round every turn.

She counted piggies in the market,
And played peek-a-boo with his soles.
Now those feet march towards justice,
And she knows not where they go.

Her kisses, how they melted!
On his head and soft, pink cheeks.
But the need and count grow fewer,
As his face forms lines and peaks.

She was thankful for the baby boy,
God entrusted to her care.
And found it a privilege to love him,
To hold his hand and drive out fear.

But all the while she knew it coming,
Her great triumph and pending doom.
That this child would outgrow her,
And become a man too soon.

As I sit here in collapse mode, editing all the pictures and lingering over all the memories, it all seems worth it.  I’m not ready to do it all again , but I am so glad I did it.

Weekend 1: Mary Aplin turns five and has a gymnastic birthday party.  I copied my friend Melissa’s idea to have a Saturday morning party with doughnuts, coffee, chicken biscuits and fruit.

Dapples wanted chocolate covered, sprinkle, Krispy Kreme doughnuts instead of birthday cake (she’s her Momma’s girl!), and our party favors were going to be pumpkins with paint.  I felt pretty good about it all… …except for the fact that on the day before the party I only knew of ONE child who was coming. One.  That’s what happens when you accidentally plan a birthday party on the Saturday of Fall Break, and everybody but you seems to have a life where they go out of town and things like that.  I began to frantically email people we’d invited to see if anybody was actually coming.  And I prayed.  Specifically for five people.  I thought I could make it feel like a party for her with five people, but one was going to be a stretch.

I told Konie to bring her leotard, because she might have to get out there and do some cartwheels  But fortunately, God answered with seven friends, and Mary Aplin didn’t seem to notice the other 15 who couldn’t make it.

Weekend 2:  Tommy and Sarah.

Tommy has been Jeremiah’s best friend since high school and Sarah is Kendall’s (my sister) best friend from high school.  You might can imagine there was a little bit of Emma Woodhouse action that went on around here–and don’t think that all matchmakers are girls!  Fortunately, Tommy and Sarah’s relationship survived and flourished despite all our (Kendall, Jeremiah, and my) love-filled, excited, we-knew-they-were-perfect-for-each-other-before-they-did meddling.  They are two dear people to us on many levels and we (along with several other couples!) enjoyed celebrating them as they anticipate their new beginning.

Lindsey and Steven, thank you for bringing all the tables and surprising me by showing up to clean up when we weren’t even home I’m sorry for the way I worked you without realizing your entire family had pneumonia AND a stomach virus

Oh Kendall. I love this picture of you. How can I say thank you for coming down 2 days before the party and doing every little grunt task I could ask of you. From picking sunflowers in your high-heel clogs, to dropping my children off at school, to planting pansies in pumpkins, to swatting flies away from the food while we waited for the guests to arrive, and doing it all with this attitude. I love you sister.

Thank you Tommy, for coming over to tackle the terrifying lantern job, even though it was your own party. And even more for showing back up to take them down.

Thank you Darby, for letting me run 2,435 details by you day in and day out and giving me confidence to make final calls. And for rocking all those table decorations!!!

This is exactly what I was hoping for. These friends, just doing together what they love doing most.

Are they a beautiful couple or what?!

Ashley, Dapples managed to block you in the one shot I got you in. Thank you for all the help with details, for helping Jeremiah with his boards when you had an unimaginable amount of things going on too, for letting me run the same details Darby had to listen to, by you as well, and for bringing Keith over to clean horse stalls on your one morning off–the morning of the party.

Can you see who snuck in on the late night band action?

I don’t know for sure, but I think he may have a love of stringed instruments in his future. He sure does love his Popon!

I just BARELY missed a shot of them whispering nose to nose. But this one is still pretty sweet

Thank you Kendall and Watson, Darby and Justin, Steven and Lindsey, Jay and Linda, Ashley, Clay and Allyson, Nick and Laurie, Chris and Kara, Brannon and Ann, and George and Amanda for ALL you did to make this night happen!!!  You cooked, you set up tables, you cleaned, you funded  I hope y’all had as much fun as we did.  And I hope Tommy and Sarah felt how much we love them.

Weekend 3: Jay Paul’s baby dedication.  This one never happened.  My baby is still not dedicated and we have not had our family over for lunch after church because Jay Paul has been fighting one sickness after the other for the past month.  We’ve flip-flopped back and forth between a cold with a sore throat so bad that he refused to swallow his own spit and a stomach bug that delighted us all from BOTH ends.

Mid-Week: Halloween.  I already did a post on our Charlotte’s web family theme, but those pictures were from our church’s fall festival.  Here are a few shots I got from the actual night.

Weekend 4: Pace turns 7 and we have a birthday party at the movie theatre.  It was the opening night of Disney’s “Wreck it Ralph”.  We had pizza and cake before the movie, and I actually thought the movie itself was great.  Pace’s friends came and she had a blast and felt very loved.  That should be the end of the story.  Those are the most important things… …but let me just tell you before you run out and plan your own party at the movies, that I WAAAYYY underestimated the sense of responsibility and need for adult coverage if you plan to take 19 six and seven year-olds to a very crowded movie theatre.  Especially if you cram them full of pizza, cake, popcorn, and coke.  Ok?!  I was just so terrified I was going to lose somebody!!!

So, parties at the movie theatre are a lot of fun, but just don’t listen to the people who work there when they reassure you that you and your husband will be plenty of supervision because there will be an attendant there assigned to help you.

Collapse.

A family friend’s daughter is getting married this weekend, and she called today to ask me for a favor.  She said that Jeremiah’s grandfather (Dr. Maddox, his Dad’s Dad who passed away the year after we got married, and was the pastor of First Baptist Church here in Dothan for many years) had been the one to lead her father to Christ, and had become life-long friends of her parents afterwards.  She remembered Dr. Maddox praying a prayer at Jeremiah and my wedding, one that she had also heard him pray at her brother’s wedding, and she was wondering if I could get my hands on a copy. She was hoping it could be read at her daughter’s wedding this weekend.

Our wedding ceremony was, and still is, a blur to me, but I most clearly remember being shocked at the gravity of the moment.  I was blown away by what a holy, reverent, breath-taking, God-filled, heady, joyous, heart-wrenching…experience the actual ceremony was for us.  On our honeymoon, Jeremiah and I kept saying, “It really was…magical…wasn’t it?”  It was the single word we could find that could encompass all that we felt during our vows.  And while it was all those things, and I felt that I poignantly lived each moment as it happened, afterwards, I could tell you very little of what we said or did.

So tonight, as I sat down with our slightly scratched DVD and listened to Grandfather’s King’s English and resonant baritone, I was so struck by the blessing he spoke over us as we knelt at his feet.  What a powerful way to begin life together!  I am so thankful that our friend asked me for this small favor.  I know I will be forever impacted by having the chance to truly hear these words again:

Oh God of love, thou hast established marriage for the welfare and happiness of mankind.

Bound is the plan for thou did say, ”It is not good for man to be alone. I will make a helpmate for him.”  And because thou doest all things well, in holy wedlock our joys can be doubled and our burdens halved.

Bless this groom, whom thou has made a provider of this new home.  May his strength be her protection, his character be her boast and her pride, and may he so live that she will find in him the haven for which the heart of a woman truly longs.

Bless this loving bride.  Give her tenderness that will make her great.  Give her a deep sense of understanding, that inner beauty of soul that never fades, and an eternal youth that is found in holding fast to things that never age.

Teach them that marriage is not living merely for each other; it is two uniting and joining hands to serve Thee.

Give them a great spiritual purpose in life. May they continue to seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness knowing all else shall be added unto them.

May they not expect that perfection in each other that belongs alone to Thee.  May they minimize each other’s weaknesses, be swift to praise and magnify each others strongpoints and see each other through a lover’s kind and patient eyes.

May they never take each other’s love for granted.

Dear Lord give them enough tears to keep them tender.

Enough of failure to keep their hands clenched tightly in thine.

And enough of success to make them sure they walk with God.

And when life is done and the sun is setting, may they be found then as now, still hand in hand, still thanking God for each other.

May Jeremiah and Abby serve thee happily and faithfully together until at last one shall lead the other into the arms of God.  For this we pray, in Jesus name, Amen.

Welcome!

First the two most used areas of the room.  Jay Paul’s crib:

There was a part of me that badly wanted to order an iron crib…but between Jeremiah looking at me like I’d lost my mind when I told him I wanted to order a new bed when we had a perfectly functional one in storage and the nostalgia of putting two sweet baby girls to sleep in this one, it stuck around. The two baskets on either side are for dirty clothes and play toys, respectively.

And the chair where we rock and nurse and nurse and rock.  I’ve done a fair amount of reading in this chair as well.  Can anybody spy Lord of the Rings?  I’d never read it, and it seemed like a fitting tale to tackle with a little boy in my arms.

The glider rocker is from Pottery Barn, the lamp and shade are from Target, and the rooster pillow–that makes me so happy–is from Garnet Hill.

We call this the barn wall.  It really is made from old barn wood, and I had the carpenters overlap the boards instead of butting them up against each other so that it would look like an exterior wall.  I wanted to bring the barn inside.

Now some close-ups of the crib.  I knew I wanted bold patterns, but I didn’t want it to look too grown up.  In general, I tend towards soft colors and solid fabrics, but to me, one of the wonderful things about a nursery is that you don’t have to worry about it staying in style for years to come.  A baby can only stay in a crib a little over a year, so why not embrace the trend!? I love the texture on the grey chevron stripe…

But I thought that pairing it with an egg-dot and woodland creatures brought the whimsy level up a notch.

The bedding was made by a wonderful local seamstress who is very affordable. She is also the one who told me she could just build the ottoman I wanted so bad Her name is Pam and if you’re local and want her contact info, then just let me know in the comments!

Hanging artwork was a challenge in the room.  With the pitch of the ceiling and this double border of molding (Jeremiah was ok with making a barn wall here in the house we’re renting, but he felt like it would be too much to rip a row of molding down???) there isn’t a whole lot of actual wall space.  All those over-size prints in nurseries that are so popular right now, were not going to fit up in here.  So, I made a clothesline out of rope and ordered these cute clothespins off Etsy.

The watercolors are by Laura Mehmert.

This guy is my favorite.  We’ve had lots of talks while I patted Baybus to sleep.  I’ve named him Clyde, if y’all were wondering.

Can you tell which one has been Jay Paul’s favorite?  Woops on waiting too long to lower the crib!  If you’d like to order some prints for yourself, I bought the 5×7 prints matted to 8×10 from Mehmert’s website.

The fact that there were no closets, meant I had to buy a piece of furniture to hang up baby clothes, darn !  But what seriously was frustrating was finding a piece that was the right height with those charming slanted ceilings.  This one came from Highlands Antique mall.

I love this corner.  Chock full of memories and items from some new friends and some old.  Those were Jeremiah’s first pair of chaps as a little boy.

A silver rattle Jeremiah’s grandmother gave as a gift and who a sweet friend then gifted to us so that one of ours would have a gift from Grandmother Maddox.  The booties Pace and Mary Aplin wore when they were christened.

The silver spoons that each baby received as a gift from different friends and family.

The booties Mom gave Pace to wear home from the hospital.  Mom loved the tatting because it reminded her of her great-grandmother (who used to tat–can you use that as a verb?-herself).  They are beautiful…but the most impractical things ever.  Now, I love the memory of how hard we laughed at Pace’s newborn baby toes poking out of all those holes!

And then the plate that Mama B gave Jay Paul on the night we announced to our family we were having a little boy.  She still has the pink one that we didn’t end up needing.

On top of the wooden box that Dr. Bonatz sent Jay Paul there is Pace’s bracelet, Mary Aplin’s rattle, and the bracelet Baybus wore home from the hospital (being held together by the clothespin).

My view from the chair.

I love this farm animal mobile hanging over the changing table. It’s by Petit Collage but I ordered mine through Amazon where it was a little cheaper.

Lastly…the cradle.  The most thoughtful thing my sweet husband has ever done for me.  I poke fun at him on this blog sometimes–about making me wait for silly ottomans and reigning in my spending on frivolous cribs–but truly, he knows how to love me so well… …

We were in Antique Attic looking for a bed for us, and we passed this crib that I had eyed MANY a time.  I had never mentioned it to Jeremiah because it was, AHEM, out of any sort of budget range for the nursery, and we were having enough trouble trying to decide on a bed for us–which we desperately needed.  It made my heart glad when he thought it was as beautiful as I did, and any (hormonal, pregnant) woman could get giddy watching their husband admire the craftmanship of a baby cradle.  Gently swinging it with his finger, in awe of how substantial it felt and how effortlessly it rocked.  It was a nice moment, but I thought that was all it would ever be.

Fast forward two months, to me having 2 bouts of false labor 5 weeks before Jay Paul’s due date.  The nursery is nothing but a pile of boxes and fabric, the crib is not assembled because we have lost the screws, the pack-and-play smells like rotten fish from some unexplained event that occurred during years of storage, and Mary Aplin has busted the ever-living bottom out of the (very cheap and highly unstable) cradle we owned.  If you ever wanted to see me crazy, you should have dropped by our house the morning after I’d had consecutive contractions all night long that were hard enough to wake me up from dead sleep, in a house that had nowhere to put the baby that I just knew was about to enter the wide world.

I curled up in Jeremiah’s lap when he woke up the next morning (let’s be honest, I was HUGE, so there was very little curling and much more plopping) and sobbed about my panic over the lack-of-baby-bed situation.

“I want you to get dressed and go buy cradle bedding,” he told me very matter-of-factly.  ”I will handle the bed.”

Now, I knew the man had surgeries all morning, and I was a little incredulous.  I thought he was going to buy a new piece of plywood to try and repair the busted bottom of the cradle, but I wasn’t sure when he thought he was going to squeeze that in, and I was still having those painful contractions.

“Just trust me,” he said.

“You understand that I feel pretty certain that if I don’t have this baby today, I will at least be having him this week?” I asked.  Loving him but knowing his tendency towards extreme procrastination.

“I understand.  You just go buy some sheets and trust me.”

I was out all morning looking for simple bedding, for a cradle I didn’t have, and a nightgown for the hospital, because I didn’t have one of those yet either.  Mrs. Ohs was in town and I was dragging her around with me in a panic-stricken funk.  We got home around lunch and when I walked in the back door and into the great room, my eyes were immediately drawn up to the landing and the lights on in the nursery… …I gasped and clapped my hand over my mouth.  Mrs. Ohs asked me over and over what was wrong, and if my water had just broken?!  I couldn’t make a sound.  The most beautiful cradle I had ever seen was standing slap in the middle of my nursery.  Did Jeremiah really do that?!!  How had he even remembered that cradle?!  Could it really be mine??!!

He didn’t just come to my rescue, he lavished me with love.

And my sweet grandma added this English netting, so that our new family heirloom would be graced by her hand.

The end.  I love this space…almost as much as the blue-eyed butterbean who lives in it.