Wesley's early birthday party (pictures are late)

When the entryway looks like this, you know your home is filled with joy!

























When your front steps look like this, you feel hope for the future!




























When this is your cake ... you wish your mom would just order from a local bakery.

























And when your child is surrounded by laughs, you couldn't ask for more!!!!!
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What do you hear when other people are talking?

If you know a mom who has recently given birth: Offer an arm.

If you know a mom who has just moved to a new town: Offer a hand.

If you know a mom whose husband is out of town: Offer a shoulder.

And if you know a mom who is dealing with all three of the above situations: Knock on her door, walk in, keep your mouth shut, start cleaning, and listen.

Or ... just listen.

And did I mention keep your mouth shut? Unless, of course, asked a question.

Whatever you do, don't say things like: "Oh, you can do it, so many others have." Or, "You think that's hard, I remember when I ..." Or, "I bet you appreciate your husband more now that he's gone. He's so wonderful." Please, please don't say those things ... they're quite beside the immediate point that this mother might just feel like she's falling apart.

She'll likely talk about how the first few weeks/month of her child's life have slipped by too quickly and that she squeezes in as many moments as possible to sniff his head before that delicious milky smell is gone. When you hear those words do you feel the loss behind them? Don't try and top it.

She'll likely tell you that her child was up for hours last night and she doesn't understand why the child had to tuck his feet in under her for comfort. (OK, she understands, but was it really necessary?) Do you feel the frustration? Don't try and top it.

She'll likely tell you that while that child could sleep in, she still had to wake up early to feed the baby and the dogs and down a pot of coffee before said sleeping child awoke. Do you feel the strength? Don't try to top it.


And she'll probably ask, no beg, for any tips on how to pass the hours between 3:3o and 8:30; the hours that her eyes want to shut and her body wants to shut down. Do you hear that? That's someone asking for help. THAT is when you offer solutions.

So, when this mom calls or when you call her, just keep quiet. Keep quiet and listen because you're most likely the ONLY adult she's talked to all day, the only person who is in a position to hear what she has to say. Pay attention to the words, but more importantly the feelings behind them ... reflect the feelings.

Too many people think empathy is sameness ... it's not. When I say that I am run down and don't know what to do ... I am not looking for someone to tell me about how much MORE run down they are. Please, take your competition to someone else. I am not in the harried race, I am in the human race ... that's where I want my connection.

OK, just some thoughts on feeling run down and not knowing who to turn to ... I didn't even discuss how some people react as if one bad day = an opportunity to get on a soap box about taking care of oneself or finding new parenting skills. And I didn't even go into how some people act like they just don't need other people. That's a lie. We all need other people. Why else are we born into families? We come into the world needing others and if we live long enough we leave this world needing others. If we're lucky enough, we'll walk through this world needing others.

I am very aware of my need for others right now.

And I am asking for positive unconditional strokes. So if you have them, comment below. If you need to, Google the term so you know what I'm talking about. Read more!

A boy's best friend

Who needs napkins and Roombas? There's nothing like a friend to help you clean up the chocolate milkshake you just dribbled down your shirt. ;) My life is just easier with dogs in the house.

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Unexpected Packages & DIapers ... Not What You Think

Don't you love getting mail? Especially unexpected mail? Especially unexpected mail that comes in a package?!?!

Many of you know that I belong to an online community built around cloth diapering. I just celebrated my three-year anniversary there and have been a moderator for almost a year now. I won't give you my exact post count, but it is above 10,000. I know. Sometimes even I wonder, "I seem so normal, how can this be?"

My friend Lee recently wondered in her blog about in-real-life vs. on-line friendships. (I have the pleasure of knowing Lee IRL, and the joy of reading her adventures online.) How do I feel about IRL vs. OL friendships? Well, let's just say I recently flew to Switzerland to meet one of my OL friends. What can I say? I had a good feeling about her. I've had that good feeling about many of the women I've meet through this online forum. I dont' have a burning desire to meet the majority of them, and there have been some whose posts have made me queasy in the stomach, and it wasn't the content -- it was some sort of vibe I got from them. Well, they've turned out to be not so honest and/or mentally unstable ... so there is something conveyed OL that is similar to that vibe you can have IRL ... another post entirely.

Anyway, I've received three unexpected packages in the last week, all from people I know through this online community. The first was a magnetic wooden game for Wesley. The second was a beautifully illustrated book for our growing family. The third was a package of wool diaper covers, cloth diapers, and an outfit, all handmade by Priscilla at Be-Bops, my favorite diaper cover maker.

All of these gifts reflect that these people (two of the gifts were given by a group of people) know me ... I mean really know me. And I've only met about half of them. They also show that these people care about me and that somehow, through typed word, I have touched their lives and we have built a friendship.

I know enough about them to know that we are different in many ways, especially religion ... I think the group of people who sent me gifts and I represent seven different "faith expressions." And yet, we're a strong group of friends. The larger community (much more diverse in many ways) has come together to help people finance a range of things from food during job transitions to adoption.

I agree with The Progenitor's comment on Brenda's blog enRoute 365 ... that these opportunities to learn about people from around the world through the Internet can be the bridges that help change and unite our world.

Wow, I got off topic again! What is wrong with me? All I really wanted to do was post some pictures of my new cloth diapering accessories and tell you, once again, how excited I am to use cloth in the future.

Enjoy the rest of the pictures:

Cloth diaper wipes with baseball images

Wool diaper shorts with top

Two handmade prefold diapers

Wool diaper cover with turtle

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It's Almost Time to Say ....

Good-bye.

While watching a scene from a movie with a fast train in it, Wesley turned to me and asked, "Do you remember Rowan?"

"Yes, of course I remember Rowan,"I replied. "We saw him at the picnic." I thought he was talking about a little boy in our Baha'i community.

He looked at me with another question written on his face: "Do you remember Rowan on the train -- the fast train?"

"Yes!" I exclaimed; No way! I thought.

I was astonished that he was referring to the Rowan he met six months previously in Switzerland. We talked about the fun we had on Switzerland's transportation system of buses and trains, and the fun he had with my friend Emily's children. He only spent a short time with Rowan and his sister, and he remembers them -- fondly. More than that, I sensed he feels a bond with Rowan. And isn't quite aware of the distance between them.

I wish they had more time together.

***

My dad came into town Friday. He brought Wesley a German-made electric train set. I don't know, but perhaps it is similar to the one that his grandfather bought for him when he lived in Germany. I do know that Wesley and his grandfather share a joy in playing with trains.

My dad left on Saturday. Minutes later he called:

"I feel like I didn't stay long enough."

"Me too." Silence -- we were both crying. "I think we feel this way because we didn't get much time together ..."

More silence. More tears.

I don't remember the rest of the conversation, in the end he told me he would be back in a few weeks to meet the new baby, we hung up, and I continued to cry. I wasn't crying because I missed him in that moment, I did, but the depth of my feeling and the situation didn't match -- I was crying because I had missed him for so long.

I wish we had hadmore time together.

***

I don't know how many times I've dropped off Patrick at an airport knowing it would be months before I would see him again.

A couple of those times I parked my car, walked with him to the terminal (back when we could do that sort of thing) ,and held his hand until he had to walk through the terminal doors. But I prefer the drop-kiss method. The one where you stop briefly outside the airport, give your loved one a quick kiss, watch him walk away with his bags, and then speed off, turn up the radio, and numb out before the tears have a chance to flow.

I always wished we had more time together.

***

I find that good-byes vary from awkward to torture.

I'm not sure how much of my current withdrawal from my community and friends has to do with this self-protection factor and how much of it is a genuine effect of life as it is with a busy husband, a book that keeps needing new scenes/edits, a difficult pregnancy, nurturing a busy toddler, and a desire to take advantage of my post-grad work through the Southeast Institute by reading, writing, and signing up for every weekend workshop that I can while I am here.

I read in an article (reference to come) that many pregnant women focus more on "being" than "doing" ... we recycle the being needs of the infants inside of us. We do this partly through our connection to them and partly to "fill up" and ready ourselves for the journey of nurturing and sacrifice that newborns require. Receiving nurturing and nurturing ourselves simply for who we are and not what we do becomes very important.

So whether because of this time of rapid internal and family growth, or because of unnecessarily making myself busy as a defense, I'm sorry that I will soon be leaving without knowing many of the people I know better.

Whether I know you through my training, through my neighborhood, my Baha'i circle, the Pin, Patrick's work, or any of the random and instantly fun and/or inspirational encounters I've had here, I'm sorry we didn't make more time together for general gab or whatever it is that brings people closer and more aware physically, of the bond that unites us spiritually.

Also, I am grateful for knowing you. You are each unique in who you are and what you choose to do with your time and life. You are each an inspiration to me. We may or may not have a lot of things in common, but that doesn't matter. It's how you are you and how you have something unique and new to offer others that I cherish you -- for it's our differences, not our similarities, that enrich us. And those differences, often the counterparts to my weaknesses, are the pieces I want to take with me as I move to San Anotnio, and to any other place around the world thereafter.

***

Wesley wasn't sad when he was remembering Rowan. He was rather joyful.

Once again I find myself standing in the shadows of my son's reality. At two, he doesn't know distance and time as barriers as I know them. And he doesn't feel sadness at his separation from people he loves and enjoys. Rather, he remembers them fondly.

I may not have spent as much time with all of you that I would have liked to ... but I am taking a piece of you with me.

And I am reminding myself that no matter how much or little time I have to spend and know the people who cross my path, no matter where I go, because of the natural spiritual connection we share, you are with me. And I am with you.

(That knowledge won't replace a phone call, a letter, an email, or a quick blog comment though, so let's stay in touch!)

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Blast from the Past!

See Wesley there on the right? He was probably 9 or 10 months old then (???).

Wesley was swimming with his friend Brandon. Brandon's mom and I were office mates at Clemson University back in the good ole days. My how Wesley has grown!!!!! Sometimes I need to look back at these pictures to remember what life was like back then -- just as glorious as it is now with Wesley, just with a different spin ;) Read more!