Mission Accomplished...

... Nursery Complete.

It's been an emotional roller coaster. I feel sort of silly about that, but it's the truth.

What started out as a nursery project became so much more...

First of all, let me say that as badly as I have wanted to create this room for Miah, I had no idea how hard it was going to be for me to paint over the "perfect" little girl room I created for Grace 4 years ago. To be completely honest, Grace couldn't have cared less if she'd tried. She is perfectly happy in her new room and even went as far as to tell me how much she doesn't like purple anymore (which is the color her old room was). I think this made it harder. In the end, I actually left a small area of purple (which will eventually be themed as a flower box), because I couldn't quite bring myself to paint over every last little bit. Neurotic? Yeah... probably.

Then there was the actual process of re-decorating. I have a love/hate relationship with house renovations. Painting can be stressful, and I stink at getting nails in the right places in the walls... and usually when I find the perfect place there is something that prevents the nail from actually sticking there in this old house... I couldn't even remember where I put Miah's name letters, which I made almost two years ago. I did, however, find them, just as I was about to give up and purchase new ones. The mural was actually quite fun. I like stickers.

As I was getting all of the furniture moved in and arranged, a thought hit me. The crib wasn't going to fit right, and the truth is... Miah doesn't need to sleep in a crib anymore. Choked up again, I determined to tell Phil we could just take the crib down when the room was done. I proceeded to take another week to get the room done.

And let me pause to say this about the crib. This is the first time since 2000 that our crib has not either had a baby in it our been waiting for a little person to arrive to fill it. I looked at Phil as he was taking it apart, and there were tears in his eyes, and of course he said, "don't blink," and I said, "don't get me started," and then of course I cried... again... And of course I'm tearing up even yet again as I type this... You'd almost think I was pregnant, as emotional as I've been... but really... I'm not.

I finally managed to get everything just the way I wanted it today, and with cameras... and video cameras... Miah crossed the threshold into her new room. She mercifully made some sweet little excited sounds, but the whole thing was actually fairly calm. Miah is most excited that all of her baby dolls are accessible at the same time and that there are abundant play food choices for their nutritional well being.

I almost forgot to leave space for the rocking chair... almost, but that was a non-negotiable. As I rocked her to sleep tonight, I thought about how big my baby has gotten. But when I put her in the toddler bed, covered her up, and stepped back to look at her; it hit my how very teeny tiny she really is.

And I thanked God for my precious little one... whom I cannot imagine my life without...

Painting the "Nursery"...

I'm 32 years old, and my fifth child is almost two. Why am I painting a nursery you might ask... (You also might not ask, but that is the question I'm going to answer...)

Many of you probably already know that I struggled with postpartum depression after Miah was born. For those of you who have been reading this blog for a long time, you are probably sick of posts that begin with, "Many of you probably already know... blah... blah... blah..." But it's relevant here...

One very vivid memory I have from the first week or so after bringing Miah home is rocking her and crying about how the crib and rocking chair were in our bedroom and how I had no room in the house that I could decorate as a nursery for her. I know... I know... the really tragic stuff life is made of, right? But I was not in a very stable state of mind.

A lot of people suggested that we should move Miah in with Grace, but I just couldn't kick the thought of a Disney princess shoe... or a beaded bracelet... or a piece of belly button lint falling into the crib and then finding its way to Miah's little mouth. And even if we had created a shared living space for the girls, I doubt that Grace would have wanted a flower garden nursery... with a little picket fence... and owls... Miah stayed with us.

Well... almost two years later (how can that be), we have rearranged the house in such a way that Grace has her new "pre-teen" looking, cooler than anything bedroom, and Miah is finally going to have her own room.

Any logical person would just move Miah's belongings into the very nice room that Grace has vacated. In fact, when we devised this plan, Phil even said, "Well... you won't have to paint in Miah's room since it's already decorated for a girl." Yeah... well... He kinda got a lecture after that one...

I'm not going to cry about it anymore (although I did get a little teary about some other things while painting, today, which I will share in another post, soon, about letting go as your children grow), but I really want to decorate that "perfect" baby girl nursery that I have always wanted. And so I'm going for it. And I really hope Miah loves it until Grace turns 18 and goes to college, because the chances of her convincing me to paint over it... again... any time soon are really slim (please read "non-existent").

Today all I managed to get done was the primer. The room is primed, and so are my arms and one of my legs. Although I showered for a really long time, I cannot get the paint off. I am going to look awesome at church in the morning...

As this project progresses, I will make updates. And I hope the finished product is amazing, because if it's not you're going to have to lie about how much you love the pictures...

L.

There Is A Part Of Me...

... that would probably just go on nursing Miah for a long time to come.

However, I have kind of always been of the opinion that when a child is old enough to ask for it, he or she is probably at the age when you should stop.

There's something a little harder about this than I imagined... (everything with Miah is, right?)...

Over the course of 5 children, I have nursed for 73 months (that's 6+ years):
2 Weeks for Seth
14 1/2 Months for Grace
22 Months for Caleb
15 Months for Ian
and now just over 21 Months for Miah

There is something about nursing a baby that just magnifies every maternal instinct I have. Miah is almost undoubtedly our last baby (I have learned to never say never, because you never know what might happen, but we are 99.4% sure of this...) It makes it a little more difficult to give up any "baby thing" with her.

But we have come to the point where she actually says, "Newes" (her word for "nurse", which actually sounds an awful lot like "nurse") and is not ashamed in the least to go right after what she's looking for... even in public... So I think we've pretty much come to the end...

(As a note, Caleb said, "Nigh Nigh" and Ian said, "Nyah Nyah", so nobody but me ever really knew what they were looking for... I don't remember Grace having a word for "nurse")

Should I feel so ridiculously sad about this? And why on earth am I blogging it? Questions I will probably wish I hadn't thrown out there on the World Wide Web, but I really would like to blog every day this year, if possible, and that's just what's on my mind tonight...

L.

Why 5 Is Enough For Us (Part 1)…

I am having the extreme pleasure of watching a friend’s baby today. Ella is two weeks old. She is beautiful, and she is exceptionally good. As of this writing, I have had her for almost five hours and she has cried twice… for about 15 seconds each time. I hope Brandy needs me to watch her on occasion, because I am loving every minute of it.

However…

I think something must have changed in me at some point, because up until today all of the little “last firsts” with Miah have been very sad for me. I have nearly been dreading Miah’s birthday next month as it gets closer and closer, because it will mark the end of the “baby year”, and therefore the end of our “baby years”.

But I realized something as I was snuggling Ms. Ella while Miah tried with all of her might to tackle us (don’t worry Brandy… she did not succeed… that’s what older siblings are for)… I don’t want another baby. I totally love Ella. As the years go by and my friends continue to produce offspring, I think it should be a law that they have to leave them with me for a full day at two weeks old. But Miah is… and forever more shall be… my baby.

OK… so never say never, right?

I may wake up on my 40th birthday and just have to have another one in order to survive. If that happens, then fine. I will grow old changing diapers. However, at this particular moment, I sure don’t think so.

There is a lot more to this… But it has to be a two parter (at least), because I have an awful lot of little people who need me now!

Lisa