What Makes Me Great...

... By Lilah (as recorded and slightly paraphrased by Mommy)

1. I am great at being a fairy princess ballerina.

I'll say.

2. I am great at drawing.

3. I am great at writing my name.

4. I am a great big sister.

5. I am great at dressing up.

6. I am great at making Henry smile.

7. I am great at singing.

8. I am great at remembering.

9. I am a great dancer.

10. I am great at eating (Mommy takes full credit for that one. It's in our genes). 

Through the Rails

 

The Story of Your Names

Lilah. The only name we could agree on before you were born.  Your daddy found it in a book titled "Best Canadian Baby Names."  Derived from the Arabic "Leila," it means "night beauty." Some sources also describe it as a form of "lilac." 

 

Aidia. My second choice if you didn't seem like a Lilah.

Marjorie. A name I loved but could not convince your daddy to love.

Dahlia. Another that was high on my list.

Elizabeth. Your middle name, after my maternal grandmother.

Callum. My favourite boy name for years.  Your daddy wasn't sold, so when we found out we were expecting a girl, I filed it away in the recesses of my brain for the next time around.

Thomas. What you wanted to name your baby brother. After Thomas the Train.

Owen. One of the many boy names I love that does not, in my opinion, sound good with our last name.

Clive. A name I loved when we found out baby number two would be a boy.

Henry.  The name that was suggested by a dear friend.  The same friend who laughed as if I was joking when I mentioned I loved the name "Clive."

Callum. Meaning "dove."  Still my top choice for baby boy as he grew inside me.

James.  The middle name we agreed on long before we chose a first name, in honour of your Grandpa, Daddy's daddy.

Henry.  Meaning "ruler of the home." Daddy's favourite, partly because he couldn't wait to nickname him "Hank."

Baby Brudder. What you called him while he was growing in my belly and continued to call him for several weeks after he came out, even once his name was finally settled.

Henry.  The name you chose for him when we let you be the swing vote between our two favourites, three days after he was born.

 

You.

You are kind and generous.

You are instantly liked by those who meet you.

You don't sweat the small stuff.

You are always a willing accomplice when it comes to dessert.

You are a caring, loving, and playful father.

You take on more than your fair share of the housework.

You do what needs to be done, without fanfare or complaint.

You put up with me when I make things more complicated than they need to be.

You are genuinely happy to make others happy.

You are almost too good to be true.

Happy birthday, You.

(Not in keeping with this week's topic, but a list nonetheless.)

How Do You?

How do you teach your child to do better next time without making her feel ashamed of what she has done?

How do you teach her to treat others with kindness while still respecting her personal boundaries?

How do you show her what it means to be polite while acknowledging her natural tendency towards shyness?

How do you encourage her to try new things when she is the type of child who avoids risk and takes time to warm up?

How do you teach her to stand up for herself and yet not retaliate when another child hurts her or takes something from her?

How do you teach her to use her words, but not to be a tattle-tale?

How do you avoid putting pressure on her so she can do things in her own time?

How do you teach her to be wary of strangers without being rude?

How do you make sure she can defend herself, but only when truly necessary?

How do you raise her to be confident in who she is and yet open to learning, growth, and change?

How do you?

 

Princess Lilah

The knowingness of little girls

Is hidden underneath their curls.

-- Phyllis McGinley

 

2012 So Far...

I realize 2012 is far from over, but I've been going through my photos from this year, and collecting the best to put in a grandkids calendar for my in-laws (an annual tradition).  And you know what?  It's already been a good year.  A very good year.  My favourite memories from 2012 so far are:

1. Cruising through the Carribean with the Hubs in January.  With his company footing the bill.

2. Sharing the news of our expanding family.  In a Listicle, no less!

3.  The unforgettable expression on the Hubs' face when the ultrasound revealed we had a twig and berry situation happening all up in my womb.

I'm a dude. Thumbs up!

4.  Introducing my little love to one of my other great loves.

5. Getting settled in our new home: more space, same neighbourhood, same sense of community.

6.  Belly love.

 

7.  Her threeness.  A double-edged sword.

8.  Experiencing the labour and delivery of my dreams.
 
9.  And what came next, obviously:

10.  Sibling love.

Halloween Leftovers

 

 

 

   

Mermaid.

Firsts...

The first time our eyes met.

Our first date, our first kiss, the first time we acknowledged the depth of our feelings.

The first time we called each other "husband" and "wife."

When I first gave him the news that we were going to be a family of three.

The first flutters of movement from within.

The first time we held her.

The first time I realized I was really and truly a mother.

The first time I nursed her.

Her first words, her first steps, the first time she called me "Mama."

The first time I told her she was going to be a big sister.

The first time he looked into my eyes.

The first time she kissed his tiny hands and told him she loved him.

 

Not the first time I have taken note of how blessed I am, and certainly not the last.

Embracing the Camera

It is entirely possible that I was the last mom on earth to read The Mom Stays in the Picture but now that I have, how could I not make a concerted effort to appear in more photos with my kids?

 

So, from the weekend's pumpkin patch visit, here is the latest:





 

Lilah was busy munching on an apple (and giving the mascots the hairy eyeball), and Henry was busy sleeping, but the Hubs managed a shot of the three of us together, so I'll take it.

Patch.

Last week, I was worried that the torrential downpours that have begun in Vancouver would prevent us from making it to the pumpkin patch on a weekend before Halloween.  But on Saturday, after it rained, then hailed, then rained some more, the skies cleared, sending us running frantically around the house preparing for a visit to our closest pumpkin patch.  I don't believe we have thrown things together that quickly since before Henry was born.

It was one of those rare and magical parenting days when things just work out perfectly and everyone is happy.  We managed to arrive just as the farm was opening, which meant we didn't wait in the mile-long lineup that formed just half an hour later. Everyone in the lower mainland had the same idea on the first (and possibly only) dry Saturday in October.  The sun peeked out for a good portion of the morning and took the edge off the chill.  And little Henry slept through most of the outing, easygoing baby that he is.

Lilah quickly put herself in charge of picking out the perfect pumpkin for each family member.

(A job she excelled at, natch.)

I remembered to accost a fellow patch-goer to get a family photo. That black dot below my chin and those two feet sticking out above my right leg?  Yep, that's Henry.

And what is a visit to the pumpkin patch without mini donuts?

And hay! Lots and lots of hay.

(Oh, these boys.  Be still my beating heart!)

Only two months old and this kid has already perfected Blue Steel.

I could not have asked for a more perfect fall day with my family.

Mwah! Happy fall.