Better than Bling

(Squiggle Bug babywears Raffie)

I wear my baby. And my toddler. I'm a babywearing mama. No matter my outfit, they match. The perfect accessory, they go with blue jeans, silk skirts, and t-shirts and vintage jackets. Better than bling, they boldly proclaim my status to the world: I AM A MOM!

(Smunchie- 4 weeks and Squiggle Bug- 2 years, on me, iPhone pic by The Storyteller)

Because people couldn't already tell I'm a mom. Ok, so I don't babywear to look cool or make sure my status as MOM is known. I'm pretty sure that could be made clear with the constant spit-up decoration on my shoulder, the massive diaper bag and the fact that I have 5 small people running around regularly calling me "Mommy!" apparently just so they can declare who I am to the entire world. Not because they actually have anything to say. Make it 4, Smunchie isn't talking yet. I can't even imagine what it will be like with one more, children have an amazing ability to increase volume exponentially.

(Lolie wears her new baby in a kid tai by Sweet Slings)

No, I wear my babies for other reasons than making a fashion statement. Though babywearing does kind of save me from having to worry about fashion, nobody can tell what I'm wearing when there is a super sweet jelly kid on my back or front. In fact, people almost don't notice me, just the tiny people that seemed to sprout extra long legs and a head. I put my babies in slings, wraps, Mei Tais, and soft structured carriers for far greater reasons than fashion. I didn't have a kid (or 5) so I could look cool, even though I do.

I wear them for convenience. I mean, gosh, I need my arms, I can't stand around holding a kid all day. Sheesh.

(Multi-tasking, building an art piece while wearing and nursing Smunchie)

Alright, that's actually true but that isn't the only reason any more. It started out that way, to be sure and I don't think there is anything wrong with that. I have times when I wrap a little one on me so I can actually get the dishes done, vacuum the carpet (mom, stop laughing, I do vacuum... sometimes), or have a phone conversation but I keep my babies tied to my body with strips of fabric so I can be close to them and they can be close to me. There was a time when I bought the idea that we needed to make our little people as independent as possible from the get-go but over time and over the course of my parenting experiences, I don't feel that way any more. I actually think it is a good thing if my baby is attached to me and I am attached to them.

(My view of Smunchie in the wrap, iPhone pic)

However, I don't call myself an Attachment Parent-er. Or whatever. I don't like labels. I have a a label phobia. I'm label-phobic. Oh crap, now I'm labeled again! Gah. Anyway, there are principles of Attachment Parenting I love, The Piano Man and I do a lot of them instinctively but still we don't consider ourselves AP. It probably really does just go back to the label thing. We choose to wear our babies because though we started doing it for convenience reasons we noticed a few things about babywearing. For starters, we just like having them close, it feels good to them and to us. The stroller started to seem like a pain in the rear compared to the sling. Our babies were way happier on us than anywhere else. The easiest way to sooth an upset baby that didn't need to nurse was to wrap her close to us. On cold days it was so cozy and we could know she was ok. We felt like we didn't miss anything, smiles, talking, observing, all of it was right there. When we started thinking about it, it just seemed more pleasant for our baby to be up close to us being able to see what was going on around them clearly. I noticed that I talk to my babies more, interact with them more when they are on me and yes, talk to, not at. And the big one was just the contact, it seemed like an easier transition to go from the womb, to being snuggled up in a wrap, to hanging out on mommy or daddy's back, and then exploring the world, knowing they can come back when they need to.

(The Piano Man wears Squiggle Bug on a bike ride in a Beco)

So we are big time babywearers now. There has been some concern about babywearing safety lately, this post isn't about that though but check out some of these hyperlinks. We don't use the types of carriers that were recently recalled, we prefer wraps, ring slings, soft structure carriers, and Mai Teis. If you are a babywearing mama or daddy, check out my friend Shanna's blog for ideas on how to respond to the inevitable "you know those things kills babies, right?" concern you'll get now. I'm not in a hurry for my babies to grow up and not need me any more, most parents aren't. Ok, sometimes I am but those come from a place of feeling overwhelmed and tired. But most of the time, I'm trying to savor the moments because I know they go by all too quickly. What better way to do that than to have my baby on me for as long as we can?

ETA: There is a babywearing safety workshop this Saturday for Houston families. Facebook event link and the vital info:
Sling Safety Workshop

Date	Saturday, April 10, 2010
Time:	12:30pm - 1:30pm
Location:	3701 West Alabama Street

Oui, Oui, Da, Da

Tomorrow is a special day, my second daughter celebrates her 9th birthday. Her beginning was rough not because of too many physical complications but rather some emotional challenges my family suffered through. The day L was born my family lost one of the most wonderful people this world has ever known, my maternal grandmother. Ouida Bailey was not exactly a saint but pretty close. The daughter of an evangelist she traveled around with her twin and younger sister as a trio called the Blue Bonnet Sisters. Her middle name was Kentucky, her twin bearing Texas as her second name. Quiet and unassuming, Ouida was not usually the one to garner a lot of attention. Grandma studied piano and German in college and went on to marry a young man in the military. Living up to her name (yes in French and Russian), my grandmother almost never said no to anyone. Sweet, kind, gentle and giving, Grandma taught piano for years, not having children until later in life when first my uncle and then my mom were born several years apart. Grandma was very involved in my childhood, often babysitting and spending time with us, sharing music and ice cream. Somewhat of a nervous person she worried about all of us, reminding us over and over again of safety practices and wanted to be sure we were cautious. A victim of domestic violence my grandmother struggled with fear, a struggle that was only amplified with the onset of dementia. Late in my pregnancy with L, fearing I wouldn't get to see her again, I flew from Illinois to Florida to see her. The disease had destroyed much of her mind and she only had a few lucid moments of remembering who I was and during one of brief instances, with her hand on my baby bump, she spoke blessings over me and my family. Those blessings have stayed with me ever since. The morning of March 25, 2001 my grandmother breathed her last and died at 10.10 EST. Preparing to lead worship at my church, I was off to the side praying when I felt a strong contraction that set itself apart from all the others I had experienced off and on in the previous few weeks. Noting the time I knew that I would be having a baby that day. My watch read 9.10 CST. A few hours later I got the message that grandma had past and after a phone call with my mom, I took a nap. It was a strong contraction that woke me and I knew I was in active labor, something that I had wanted desperately just the day before when it was happening I wished would stopped and wait another week. L was born at 7 that evening, my first home birth. As I held my beautiful new baby, who's name meant pure beauty, I wondered if she would be like my grandmother in any way. As I grieved my grandmother's passing I also rejoiced, my family was richly blessed. Though born in Illinois, Lavinia was born during Texas Blue Bonnet Season and having lived here since she was not yet two, I have celebrated my daughter and my grandmother every year with the Texas Blue Bonnets. Tomorrow we will have cake and presents, sing songs, play, eat L's favorite food, talk with my parents and my mom and I will acknowledge at some point the other special woman we honor on March 25th. L knows that her birthday also marks the day Grandma Bailey moved on and though her personality is very different from her great-grandma's, they share a unique bond. Those of us that have been privileged to know either of them and especially those that have been so favored as to know them both are blessed people indeed.

Below is a song I wrote dedicated to these two special people.

Oui, Oui, Da, Da
By Jessica Martin-Weber for Ouida and Lavinia


One of two she always had an and
All along the way she’d quietly stand
Low tones warm and soft
Never held herself aloft
Heavy eyelids with lashes low
She was one to take it slow
Blue bonnet fields bobbing, bobbing, bobbing
Smiles and laughter sobbing, sobbing

Almost invisible

Yes, yes almost invisible
Oui, oui Presque invisible
Да, Да, Почти невидимый
She could never say no.

Affection from another of desire
Breathes into being a gentle fire
Promises made and hopes begin to bloom
Then delicate flower crushed too soon
Purple eyelids heavy and low
He wasn’t one to take it slow
Blue bonnet fields bobbing, bobbing, bobbing
Smiles and laughter sobbing, sobbing

Almost invisible

Yes, yes almost invisible
Oui, oui Presque invisible
Да, Да, Почти невидимый
She could never say no.

From her carved flesh and womb
She had another to groom
Time sang it’s sweet sad song
Two more mother’s come along
Now her eyelids heavy and low
She was one to take it slow
Blue bonnet fields bobbing, bobbing, bobbing
Smiles and laughter sobbing, sobbing

Like a woman pushed and torn
One dies and one is born
In the agony and bliss
It all comes down to this
Our stories intertwine
What is yours and what is mine
The songs of love and loss
We bear each other’s cross
To share a legacy of love

When she went on her way
I held pure beauty that day
Victory wept for yes
We knew our souls were blessed
Our eyelids heavy and low
Neither one the other would know
Blue bonnet fields bobbing, bobbing, bobbing
Smiles and laughter sobbing, sobbing

Yes, yes almost invisible
Oui, oui Presque invisible
Да, Да, Почти невидимый
Yes, yes, no longer invisible
Oui, oui, jamais plus invisible
Да, Да, больше невидимый

I love you Grandma.

The Measure of Indecency

Hello! Up here! My eyes. You’ve been so busy staring elsewhere that you probably haven’t even noticed I have eyes let alone looked in them long enough to tell me what color they are. I admit, the color of my eyes can be hard to nail down, it really depends on what I’m wearing or the color of the frames on my glasses provided I’m wearing any. Glasses! I always wear socks with sneakers, I was talking about glasses. Ugh, why must you only see me for that? As though that’s all I’m good for. It’s not like they are new, they’ve been around as long as humans have and most everyone has them.

Excuse me, it bothers you when I walk? You do realize that the primary function of my ankles is to help me walk on my feet, don’t you? I see, seeing them used in a different way is gross. Uh-huh. Would you rather I just sit around with my feet up, my ankles hidden discretely beneath my pants or skirt until they are to be viewed and touched for pleasure? Hmmmm, this could complicate things, like my life. And caring for my children. So it makes other people uncomfortable to see a woman’s ankles when she’s chasing her children around, keeping them safe, providing them with the best opportunities and using her ankles as, oh, I don’t know, how they are intended to be used? I should be worried about offending other people? Interesting. I’m really far more concerned about doing the best I can for my children. Research shows that mothers that are able to should let their children run and be active and for that to happen best a mother needs her ankles to chase after them. Saving them only for her partner’s pleasure would get in the way of her children’s health! Oh, I can use them, you just want me to cover them up. With a blanket. Or one of those fashionable things made just for that.

Wow. That really makes it difficult not to mention, uncomfortable and likely dangerous. What exactly would be adequate coverage? Adequate and safe? When I’m using them to care for my children, how much can you actually see anyway? I know socks that reveal more and ankles are plastered all over magazines, billboards, TV, and movies to sell everything from sports drinks to cars to furniture. Honestly. I’m not showing any more than what you’d see watching a sitcom. Probably less, actually. And if you think that’s shocking, what about flip-flops and open toe shoes that reveal ankles AND toe cleavage? Nobody is insisting those be covered up. But a mother running around caring for her children, now that is disgusting. Please tell me, what is the measure of indecency we hold as standard? But another man seeing my ankles while I run after kids could be a turn on? Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight. A woman doing the best she can caring for her children, using her body as it is intended is going to be an indecent turn on? Now who is disgusting? But there could be a slip and they might SEE something! Gasp! Oh dear, what will we do! Mothers around the world are seducing men left and right using their ankles as they take care of their children! What is the world coming to?!

Now you’re saying that it is ok to use them but not only do you not want to see them used “that way” but it should stop once the child is one? How exactly does that make sense? Excuse me, but my child still needs me and it is encouraged by the experts that mothers continue to chase after their children as long as it is mutually beneficial and both parties are comfortable with it. Seriously, I don’t see how there is a magic switch that is flipped when a child turns one that she would no longer need me to walk after her. She may not even be ready to walk herself yet at that point! No, there is nothing inappropriate about me continuing to care for my child that way and I’m offended that you would say there is. It doesn’t excite me sexually, I’m not that one-dimensional, thanks. I may run around and use my ankles in a fashion only appropriate with my husband in our private times along but trust me, I couldn’t even begin to compare caring for my children to making love with my husband! I am not abusing my child by continuing to trot after them. My ankles have more than one purpose and I can differentiate between their functions, it isn’t that difficult actually and I already do it with other areas of my body so why should this be any different?


Honestly, I am sorry it makes you uncomfortable but I really can’t help but wonder if that reflects more on your issues than my ankles and my mothering. Your issues don’t have much weight in my caring for my children, sorry. If other women feel uncomfortable with their ankles so exposed while they care for their children, fine. It doesn’t bother me and if they can figure out how to gallop around after kids while hiding under a blanket then more power to them. In fact, I’m impressed, I just can’t get it to work. So I’m going to continue doing what is best for my children and while I’m not going to parade around with my ankles just hanging out there all the time for the world to see, I’m not going to hide me or my children just to make you feel better. There is nothing wrong with what I’m doing, I’m not ashamed of my ankles or using them to race around after my children. Not every woman can, I’m blessed to be able to. And no, I’m not going to cover to protect your sensibilities. Maybe your sensibilities aren’t that sensible. It is, after all, only natural for a mother to hasten to protect and give her children her best. This is my best. If you don’t like it then put a blanket over your head!


Once upon a time in a bygone era, ankles were considered a sexually indecent part of the body for a woman to show, a flamboyant display of indecency if they were revealed. Other era’s featured fashion that regularly revealed the breast mostly bare including the nipples showing while covering most every other part of the body with clothing. What we consider indecent now was at one time the height of fashion and accepted by the majority of society. Likewise, what has been considered inappropriate and immodest exposure in the past are now considered commonplace even in most of the extremely conservative circles. This post was inspired by some recent online conversations I was able to read (thanks to Woman Uncensored for sharing them) and by this article. It is intended as satire regarding nursing and "extended breastfeeding." Not that I need to explain but for the record my husband completely supports me breastfeeding our children. Also, no ankle or foot fetish here. But aren't these shoes amazing? I love them. Well, love to look at them. Wearing them, not so much. Seriously, what could be more sexy that a woman scurrying after her children in a pair of smokin' hot, deadly heels?

Stages of a Station, the Art of Art part 1b

I started sharing the process of creating the piece I was asked to contribute to Xnihillo Gallery's Station of the Cross exhibit here. My brilliant and talented friend, Jack took some photos of my belly cast for me. I'm not sure what I'm doing with the cast when the show is done but I'm thinking one of these images will be framed and hanging on my wall for "cool" factor alone.

When the cast had hardened enough to remove it from the frame (my body) we placed it belly side down to finish curing. Now, if you decide to make a plaster cast of your shape I have a bit of advice to give you: load on the petroleum jelly. When you think you have enough, add more. If you think you've covered enough of the area, add another inch. I think I did pretty well, actually but there were a few spots where I could have used more Vaseline and OH. MY. FREAKIN. CRAP. My eyes sting just thinking about it and so do other parts of my body. Trust me. Lots and lots and lots of petroleum jelly, you won't regret using too much, you will regret not using enough.


The plan was for it to rest for 3 days and then I'd start working on preparing it for what was to come. But then I had a baby in three days and, well, it sat for 3 weeks before I did anything with it. Another talented and brilliant friend, Linda, came and did our labor and birth photography.

(Those are my hands. Sweet, right?!)

Before the cast could be really used for the piece, I had to reinforce it with a few more layers of the plaster cloth so the girls and I pulled out the supplies and set to work. Everyone got in on the action. You can't tell from these phone pics (Thanks O and L for taking them for me!) but tiny, newborn C is off to the side in her bouncy seat being bounced with my foot when these shots were taken.



We did the additional layers in three stages. The next part of the plan was to sand the cast smooth, get the photo images we needed, have them printed on canvas and then wrap the form in strips of cloth and the photos. It completely changed though and the cast remains pretty much the same in the finished piece thanks to my friend Jack convincing me that the cast was beautiful without doing anything to it. I cleaned up a few spots with sandpaper but left it as is.

More on the process later.

Crap, that's a lot of Diapers

So just after creating a post showing the creation of a belly cast for an art piece I talk about diapers?

Yeah, that's right, I do. There are a lot of diapers around here these days. And, I'm admittedly proud to say, not one of them is going into a landfill. Nope, these beauties get used and reused. Which means that's a lot of laundry. With two in diapers it is also a lot of crap because that is a lot of diapers. Sometimes they get folded, often, they don't which really isn't a big deal because we'll have to do another load tomorrow anyway. Rinse, wash, rinse, dry, repeat.

Love cloth!

NIP not WIP today.

Ok, so I'm nursing a new baby again which is... hard. Don't get me wrong, I'm a huge fan of nursing, it is good for mom and baby but I'm not going to sugar coat things and tell you how easy it as first, not even for a 5th time mom. C is cute, adorable and absolutely precious and as true as these things are every two hours or so I have to grab a glass of water, pull out my leaky boobs practice breathing techniques I don't even use for pushing in labor, and willingly let my baby suck on my sore nipples. Her perfectly sweet mouth is transformed into a device of torture, a pit of barbed wire churning around my tatas. Experts will tell you that it shouldn't hurt, that if there is pain it is because of a poor latch and can be corrected with proper positioning and getting the baby to get on the breast correctly and I've told women this as well. For the most part, I think that is true but there are times when mom and baby just can't get it worked out for a few weeks and for them it just isn't all rainbows and butterflies. This is me and C, the combination of my rather large nipples (TMI? Then don't read) and her tiny mouth plus this thing she has against putting her tongue forward have all combined to make this a difficult and painful two weeks of nursing so far.

But we'll get there. I had one other baby that gave me cracked and bleeding nipples and eventually we made it through and nursing became a bonding experience for us, special and easy so I have confidence that C and I can make it there too. When we do I'll be nursing her anywhere she needs to eat (for the torture sessions I prefer to remain at home at the moment) and doing so unapologeticly. Even in church. Since I believe that God made me to nurse my baby I'm not about to leave and go nurse somewhere else when we're there to worship- boobies nursing babies aren't a shock to God and if they are to the people around me, well, they are free to turn their attention back to God and leave me and my baby alone. Most of the time I won't be covering up and if I choose to do so it will be very special circumstances. I don't cover up for my dad, don't cover at church, don't cover around our friends... in fact, I can't think of such a special circumstance, interesting. I've heard all the arguments in favor of covering up but seeing as I believe breasts are for nursing babies and anything else is just a bonus I don't see me changing. Any man that is turned on (or grossed out) by a baby being fed has issues, that's all I'm saying.

And because I have a baby crying, a 6 year old needing some direction, a 2 year old needing a diaper change, an 8 year old "doing homework" that needs supervision, an 11 year old freaking out about a Greek test tomorrow, dinner that needs to be warmed up (thank goodness it is cooked thanks to wonderful friends!), a house in dire need of cleaning, laundry that needs to be folded and put away, dishes that need to be done, and a new lace pattern to try on that sweater, etc. I'm going to go now and just say: read this. She's obviously not as tired as I am and said it all so much better.

I wrote more about nursing in this post and now have a whole blog dedicated to nursing. A breastfeeding pub to support and encourage breastfeeding. We have lots of fun, share stories, give information, run an occasional contest and have give-aways. Visit The Leaky Boob for more!

Baby love

That hat drove me crazy. I'm going to attempt another one, may create my own pattern since this one didn't turn out after 4 different attempts. Too small and a very strange fit. I jammed it on her head for a photo shoot anyway.

Another perspective

This isn't exactly about my birth story with Cosette but it does include some of our birth story. My good friend Linda attended the birth last week as support and birth photographer. I haven't seen the images yet (she took a lot, I'm sure she's wondering what she was thinking now) but I've seen other samples of her work and I'm sure they are beautiful. What I appreciate about this post though is another perspective entirely and not from camera. I am well aware now as as someone who attends women in birth that there are always several stories happening, not just the birth story from the perspective of the mother. Everyone there, while sharing in the same developing experience, is experiencing their own version of the story coming from their own already in progress narrative. These tales are beautiful to me and getting to hear them, even in small snippets is a gift that those who attended Jeremy and I in our births bless me with when they share. I warn you, this post may make you cry. It took me a few days to find the courage to read it but it was worth it. I hope you are touched by what she shares there and if you can, take a minute to leave her a comment to thank her for sharing such depth of her soul. I'd also love to hear what you think in the comment section as well.

A week ago today- SROM or the begining of a birth tale.

There are moments that we mark in red on the calendar of our hearts and minds and quietly observe them on our own when those events are revisited. Some of them are annual, some or monthly, some are weekly, some are precious and beautiful, some are painful and sad, some are a combination. All are important in an intensely personal way.

This was me a week ago today.


A week ago tonight at about 9.30 my bag of waters broke spontaneously as I was crossing the street with Jeremy and Evangeline following dinner with our neighbors, F and J. F had given me a hard time about not having my water break while we were there and I started having contractions with a little bit of regularity when dinner was over. Having had them off and on all day and the two weeks before, I didn't want to give them more than a passing nod of acknowledgment. I've been down this road before, you see, this could go on for weeks and weeks. We joked and I assured F that my water had never broken before either early in labor or as the first sign of labor. He promised me there's always a first time for everything! And indeed, he was right! Forty-five minutes later we were crossing the street when I felt a small gush of fluid. I wasn't sure right away that SROM had just happened but after a few more steps I told Jeremy my suspicions and by the time we got to the house I was pretty certain that I would get into the bathroom and know for sure. It didn't take long for there to be clear fluid running down my legs requiring a change of clothes. I was definitely ruptured. Contractions sputtered to a stop as I called the midwife to give her the report, I had checked myself (again) that morning (because I could- the danger of knowing just a little too much) and knew I was 75% effaced and 2cm but I hadn't felt the baby move since I ruptured. Because we had a scare not even a week before with low heart tones and I didn't have a doppler at home we made a plan to have a nurse friend come and bring a doppler so we could get heart tones. This was just for peace of mind, for my peace of mind. I felt like she was ok but I wanted to know she was ok. Sue came, bringing a doppler and set to work cleaning my kitchen after we listened to that beautiful swooshing train sound in my belly. Baby V was fine. I had woken up that morning pretty sure this was the day, I've had this with every one of my babies, I've just known when they were going to be born in the next 24 hours. All day long I felt like my body was trying to go into labor but was being held back. My FaceBook status twice reflected it: "Feeling like a car revving the engine" and even less poetic "You-know-what or get off the pot girlfriend. I'm going to dinner now." I couldn't swear on FaceBook for some reason but you all know what I meant. Having seen it before in myself and women I've attended I had a hunch that having my children around was keeping me from kicking into gear and so we planned to pack them up and send them on their way to our friends LKH and EKH where we knew they'd be safe, have fun and we wouldn't need to worry about them and I could get down to the business of birthing a baby.


With the girls gone I worked on getting in touch with Linda as we had planned for her to come and take photos of the labor and birth. Thankfully she checked her Facebook and saw the message I left her since her number was erased from my phone causing me to panic that we wouldn't be able to get a hold of her. She called and headed right out, getting to our place around 11 or maybe midnight. I don't remember because by the time she got there my contractions had indeed decided to get this show on the road and I was in early labor.

There is obviously more to the labor/birth story but I'll leave you with this. A week ago tomorrow I looked like this:

And today, we have this:

These moments are marked in red in the day planner of my heart for several reasons. They mark the beginning of the end of the journey of bring our daughter into the world, they speak of the healing of some very painful moments and relationships along the way, they remind me of dear friends both new and old that journeyed with me, they testify to my personal strength of surviving another HG pregnancy and the agony that caused as well as the labor and birth, they chronicle the love of Jeremy and I birthing together again, they are likely the last of their kind as we feel we are done having children, and they direct the eyes of my heart back to God, the author of it all. Moments such as these deserve the red marker, emblazoning them on my heart's memory forever. I hope you have learned to pause and cherish such moments.

WIP weekend, new baby style

Poor little Cosette has had a time with jaundice meaning lots and lots of time laying naked in UV light. Our heat has been boosted up considerably and the rest of us feel like it is the middle of summer. Only more dry. A lot more dry. This has given several of us time to sit next to our newest little one and knit or read while keeping her company in the light. I have to say my knitting has slowed down but like my blogging, I promise I have a good reason.

Daddy keeps watch while working on a belated Christmas gift for a friend, another elf hat ornament which is now a FO.

My WIP (one of them and the only one I photographed) has been frogged TWICE since this photo and it is just a simple little baby cap. Driving me crazy. I'm about to frog the body of it again and instead of following the pattern this time I'm going by my gut and see if I can figure out what is wrong. It will be an adorable little pilot style cap when I finally finish it (again) and is part of a set for Miss Cosette. Some of my other WIPs include gifts for the birth team and I'm probably going to cast on another pair of newborn pants just for something easy to knit.

No photos of any other WIPs though O and L both have things going. Jeremy just finished a great pair of pants for E that I'll photograph tomorrow to share, they are simply brilliant and lots of fun.

I've noticed on the blogs of other knitters, those far more prolific than I in their knitting and blogging, making a list of your FOs (finished objects) is the thing to do at the end of the year. Being the rebel that I am, I shan't be doing that. It would be depressing, I can't even remember what I've done and figuring it out sounds like work. So no, there won't be a FO list here. There wouldn't be much on it anyway. Instead, I'll leave you with a bunch of new baby photos.

The Ultimate Excuse

Cosette Marguerite Constance Martin-Weber
7lbs, 4oz; 19.5 inches
12.28.09, 7. 36 a.m.
Born at home into my hands surrounded by love and peace.

I started several posts over the last week or so. I had planned a post on "Happy Holiday vs. Merry Christmas," one on our Christmas traditions, a few brief update posts, some maternity photo posts, a Christmas activities post, some WIP and a post on procrastination but I kept, er, procrastinating? I have a good excuse now though, sorta.

Farewell baby, Hello toddler!

She has learned the word, the power word of toddlers the world over. No. It was official that she moved from baby to toddler when she started walking and denying it grew more difficult when she was running a week later. But still, somehow it didn't seem like she was really a toddler. Until two days ago. The moment was innocent enough, we were home from the day's activities and I had gotten Evangeline Claire out of the van, set her down to toddle up to the house as I grabbed the diaper bag and reminded the big girls what they were supposed to be doing which was not hitting each other with their bags and actually going to the house as well. In the midst of that particular chaos, Evangeline discovered a light on the inside of the van near the step and sliding side door. Captivated she alternated covering and uncovering the light, squealing with delight in how the light reappeared each time. It was cute. I joined in the game after issuing one last warning to the children still in the van giving Evangeline and me a sweet shared moment. We were giggling, me at her obvious delight in the light's little trick, her that the light was still there every time she moved her hand. And then, because I'm 31 and not almost 16 months, I tired of this activity (who has the attention issues I wonder) and invited her to hold my hand and walk to the house, pointing out the flowers blooming along the way. Evangeline looked at me sweetly pointing to the light and then ignored me by returning to the game. Visions of blood sucking insects filling our van, again I tried to redirect her, this time taking her hand and gently leading her away from the open door of the van. Concern and confusion crossed her sweet features and she grunted, pulling away from me. I talked happily, crossing to the pink flowers to entice her leave what I considered the mundane light. It didn't work. So I came back to her and told her it was time to go in now, there were too many mosquitoes out and let's go find a book in the house while again taking her hand and moving to close the door as I gently but firmly tried to lead her toward the walkway. Right then, after a little grunt and a look of frustration she discovered her stubborn tone and said "no." It was so final sounding, she really meant it. Suppressing a laugh I responded with "I know you want to stay but let's go find a book inside the house" while again leading her by the hand away from the van so I could safely slide the side door closed. With her hand in mine but resisting with everything she had she stomped her little feet in rapid succession yelling "no! no! no! no! no!" before collapsing in a heap of tears at my feet. No and a temper tantrum. Definitely a toddler now.

The squall didn't last long, soon she was standing against me, her arms clutching my neck as I kissed her cheeks and dried her little face. Speaking brightly I showed her the cheerful flowers again and she babbled crossing to them with interest, tears forgotten, she squatted to check them out then moved on to cross the threshold repeating "boo" over and over again on her way to pick out a favorite book to read together. As she played just minutes later, far too busy to sit still for a book I sighed at this new place we are entering together, me letting go of the baby, her discovering and exerting her will and the shaping of both child and parents that is sure to be a part of all of our growing up.

My baby is no longer a baby.

It happened suddenly and even though I suspected it would it is still a little sad. She still has the chubby cheeks and the little barrel belly with a little nose and pouty lips, she could still pass for a baby. Until she stands and walks across the room or dances to music on the stereo thus solidifying her place in toddlerhood. Unlike our other girls, Evangeline didn't go through a trying to walk phase, she simply didn't seem interested. She never held onto our fingers taking tipy-toe steps and giggling. There were no tottering attempts to stand and haltering steps followed by a plop on her bum. Content to crawl and cruise, she was far more interested in climbing: onto the couch, onto chairs, into cabinets and drawers, up the bunk-bed ladder, into the bath tub, onto tables and beds. After figuring out the up she started working on down and is pretty good too. Occassionaly we'd see her let go of the couch or chair, take a 2-3 steps and reach for the next piece of furniture in her way around the room. That was it. Nothing else to lead us to believe she was actually interested in walking. I started praying that she'd walk by Easter to properly show off the dress I've made for her, in white.

She started Friday, I wasn't with her for the first time in over a week. Jeremy and the girls were listening to music when she decided she wanted to dance with them. She left the couch and walked to the middle of the room to contribute her fancy dance moves. They cheered and she clapped for herself before continuing on to the table. She crawled a few more times but more and more she was spotted walking around from object to object pausing every now and then to clap for herself. By the time I got home she was napping and I was given reports from her excited sisters as to what amazing feets she had accomplished. When she got up she acted as though she had never done such things, crawling and cruising just as she had the day before. But then she remembered, stood herself up in the middle of the room and walked over to pick up a toy. There it was, it really happened. I couldn't pretend everyone else was making it up. I clapped and cheered for her and she clapped and cheered for herself.

She hasn't looked back. No falling or tottering, she is practically running now and loves to dance to any and every music she hears. She bounces, rocks, sways, and turns circles in her little dance. Asserting her independence, she doesn't walk TO people, only away and she doesn't see the point in holding hands. The only time she will walk to someone is if they are holding food but we all know that she's walking to the food, not the person. When friends were over Saturday night they commented how it looks like she's been walking for a little bit already, I suspect she's been doing it for months when nobody was looking.

So good bye baby, hello toddler!

Hello my name is Jessica and I'm addicted to... cloth diapers.

Ok, laugh. Laugh so hard your sides hurt and you snort. Or are you just thinking I'm crazy? It's possible you're not thinking anything at all since, well, I may be the only person reading this anyway. But you know you have your odd addiction too. Besides, I'm not the only one. There are entire online communities of CDing (Cloth Diapering) addicts. Yes, I belong to a couple and yes, we really do get online and chat about diapers and what goes in them. I'll let you ponder that for a moment.

My addiction started innocuously enough, it certainly wasn't intentional. In fact, I had thought my diapering days were over when, surprise! We got to give it a go again. I had encouraged friends that were having babies to go green, save the earth, do baby's bum a favor and forgo the disposible diapers in favor of cotton but me, well, it was too late. Cloth hadn't even been on the radar with my first three so I confessed the thousands of diapers I dumped in a landfill and moved on after a moment of silence. Until that line showed up on the stick I peed on. It wasn't long after that positive test result that I moved from "Oh my gosh, we're having another baby" to "Oh no! I have to cloth diaper it!" So between puking and IVs I reached for the computer and began my research. That's when I discovered the online communities dedicated to just cloth diapers! Crazy? Possibly. Fun, oh yeah! At first I had sticker shock but that faded after a little bit of math (hello, disposable diapers aren't CHEAP!) and I started thinking how cute and soft it would be. I became educated in the health benefits as well and considered that if we had used cloth with Lavinia and Helena perhaps our rash issues wouldn't have been such a battle. I'll never know of course but so far, Evangeline's bum has been much less red than her big sisters' rear ends ever were in their diapering days. Then I started picturing a cute little baby bottom swathed in soft fabrics with darling prints. Someone introduced me to the wonders of wool as a natural cover for cloth diapers and after puzzling over that one for a little bit I was completely hooked. Aside: yes, wool would seem like a hot option, after all we don't even own any wool for ourselves here in Houston but when someone asked me if I'd rather wear wool or a plastic bag and I got my hands on some amazingly soft, not itchy wool I saw their point. Back to my story. So I bought a few diapers. They came, we opened the packages and the girls and I oh'd and ah'd. I practiced on baby dolls and teddy bears and settled on prefolds (the kind my mom used but not the big flat ones that you have to fold, the ones that are, well, pre-folded) and some fitteds. We choose a combination of PUL and wool for covers but it wasn't long before we realized we liked wool the best. Yes folks, Evangeline really did wear wool all summer long and you know what? Not one rash. We LOVE our cloth. It's fun, cute, healthy, and good for the earth. There's all kind of info out there on cloth, I'll come back later with some of that but for now, I just wanted to share; I'm a cloth diapering addict. :)