October is my favorite month of the year. The 4th of July is my favorite holiday, but October is my favorite month. I love the transition in the weather. Long sleeves, but no jacket. Gorgeous sunsets that always shine the brightest on a drive home. The prettiest colors decorate porches and mantles. I just love it. I think it's a wonderful, wonderful month. And having a baby that isn't old enough to voice an opinion about wardrobe choices has just been a blast. I bought one halloween outfit at the Beginning of October (featured in her monthly picture) and a sickness was born. I love dressing this baby to the season. I already love what Ella has done to rejuvenate my enthusiasm for holidays. We ended up with four halloween outfits (all super cheap) and we wore them into the ground. I feel a little bad for how neglected the rest of her clothes have been. I'm only allowing two thanksgiving outfits. Both have been purchased. She's growing so fast. The halloween onesies were really too small when it was all said and done, so I'm glad the month is over and I don't have to continue to fight her into her clothes. Mom Fail.
This month was so full of milestones that I can't imagine typing all of them. It has been without a single doubt the funnest month so far. Something happens between month 3 and month 4, and you really begin to see little peeks of the personality beneath the baby fat. I don't have a single doubt that she's going to be sarcastic, and I'm on the fence about how I feel about it. I've lived my life with an extremely dry sense of humor that a lot of people really don't understand. I'm sure any number of people think that I'm just rude, but those are the people that don't understand the quick wit. Those that understand me love me, and I'm making a very conscious effort to tone down the sarcasm knob. I especially want to make a change for the sake of my child. I never want to pop off and hurt her feelings because she misinterprets my words. I know it's going to happen, but it's my responsibility to control how often it happens. However, if she's anything like me, Cody is in for a world of zingers and laughter... maybe at his expense. On the other side of the sarcasm, we're raising a daddy's girl. The moment she hears her daddy's voice, she cranes her head anyway it will go until she finds him. She usually shrieks with excitement when she sets her gaze on him, and he always wraps himself a little tighter around her finger. It's very sweet. I do think she'll be more like I am in social settings, where she observes before engaging. I've never liked it about myself, but it's who I am. I would prefer she was like her Daddy, with the ability to talk to a vase if it so intrigued him, but we'll just have to see where we end up. She's got the funniest little smirk, hates being in a quiet room, watches our every move, and randomly let's out a coo or a shout whenever her heart so wishes. She kicks her legs with glee, moves her lower jaw with discontentment when she's getting upset, and opens her eyes to record breaking scales when we talk to her. She slurps on her pointer and middle fingers (because a thumb is just too easy), and loves to play with a toy elephant that she found in her crib. The kid is obsessed. It's hysterical to hear her talk and shake it around.
Ella's first "major" holiday was Halloween. Her first technical holiday was 4th of July, but I was recovering from a c-section and bringing a newborn home from the hospital that day, so a red, white, and blue dress was the extent of recognition. Next year, I plan to have Ella's birthday party of July 4th, with a "Little Firecracker" theme. It's going to be 200 percent adorable, but we have at least 8 months before that blog post, so we'll discuss that at a later time. I was a little conflicted about Halloween, because I was raised in a home that didn't partake. We went to an occasional trunk or treat at a church, but we never bought costumes and we never went door to door. We were raised in a church that believed that Halloween was evil, and if you partook in its festivities then you were participating in evil. As an adult and as a member of a church that has truly allowed me to learn and love my Jesus now, I don't know that I believe what I was raised to believe. Do not misinterpret my words. Don't send me links to the history of All Hallow's Eve. Don't tell me I'm blind to the evils of this world. I'm not oblivious to the horrors of Halloween or the "darkness" that accompanies it. But I also didn't dress my daughter as a zombie and take her to a haunted house. I put her in a pumpkin and pushed her in a stroller with her cousins down one of Midland's better known neighborhoods. There were so many people that I was feeling a little claustrophobic. I observed the costumes and the scariest one I saw was a woman in her 30's dressed as a... well I don't really know what she was going for. Leggings aren't for everyone, guys. Each house had a theme, from Duck Dynasty to Queen Elizabeth. The candy bars were legit, not fun sized. I was shocked. As a first time "Trick or Treater," I had no idea that this is how it went down. One house handed out Juice or water with their treat bags... and inside the treat bag was a piece of paper, and on that piece of paper was all kinds of scriptures and encouraging words. And I kind of thought to myself "Maybe that's how you do it." Maybe that's how you go out into the world and be a light. Maybe that's how you carry your candle "in the darkness." I was truly impressed by the kindness of the woman and the subtlety of her witnessing techniques. Truly. Anyway, the wonderful thing about my parenting decisions is that they're decisions of Cody and myself. We aren't obligated to adhere to anybody else's decisions, just as you aren't obligated to agree with ours. It's one of the coolest things about having a child of your own.
All of that aside, she is everything I hoped for in a child. She's happy, smiles at just about anything, and loves to cuddle. She sleeps in her own cradle, for at least 8 hours, sometimes up to 10. Her fussy days are hard days, but they're few and far between. This child has brought more love into my marriage than I ever could've thought possible. I guess it's maybe because we look at each other and we know that she needs both of us so much, it requires the two of us to need each other more. She has deepened the partnership between us, and I love it so much. Sometimes I truly can't remember what we did before Ella was born. I know we sat on our front porch a lot, but the memories stop there. I'm being a little dramatic... but I also feel so inclined to point out that most days, in the heat of motherhood, I look at Ella and say "All I've ever wanted was 5 minutes to stare at a wall and forget my name. Can you just give me 5 minutes?" Her response is usually a smile and leaning toward me. Then she buries her face in the crook of my neck and my heart crumbles all over again. It's hard to be a Mom. You learn how selfish you really are as a person. But it's also made me so aware of how deeply I need Jesus and how deeply I love my husband. I fall into the lap of Jesus and the arms of my husband every single day, mostly because I just need a little affirmation. It's okay to need affirmation. It's okay to take a break from the baby. Not because the baby is a burden, but because it's important to brush your hair. We are rapidly approaching the one year mark that I learned I was pregnant, and my heart is so full of gratitude that it only makes those sweet little cries something I want to remember. This time last year, those tears were my own, and I longed for the cries of an infant in my home. I think maybe that's what pulls me through. I choose to remember everything that brought us here, and I choose to praise when I want to hide in my closet and pretend like I'm in a 5 star resort where spit up and alarm clocks aren't permitted. I choose to laugh on the days when Ella is crying just to hear the sound of her voice. I choose to rejoice in the mundane rather than considering what it would be like to take a shower in peace again. When I was pregnant, a friend told me that the days are long, but the years are short. Even though it's going to be so great when Ella has an established routine, eats Peanut butter and Jelly for a snack instead of me, and can tell me what the issue is before she has a meltdown... I'll miss those baby feet. I'll miss the coos that fill our home. I'll long to hear the sweet giggles that we had to work so hard to hear. I'll miss it all, even though living in the middle of it is exhausting. So in the meantime, I'm thankful to have a partner that needs me as much as I need him. I'm thankful for a husband that understands that even though the house is a wreck, the dinner isn't cooked, and the wife looks like a Tim Burton character, He knows that his baby is growing up in a world that revolves around her happiness. That her mother is giving everything she's got to raise a baby that knows what it means to be dearly Loved. A mother who prays for grace in every step she takes. A mother who fights the negative thoughts that can so easily consume a new mom. He knows that some days, I'm too arrogant to ask for help. He's so wonderful to clean when I'm not in the room, because it's so easy to feel attacked when he cleans in front of me. I know that it sounds so silly, but some days, it hurts my feelings that he cleans the living room. My advice to new Moms would be to let your husband help you. It's incredibly hard, because you'll get this weird feeling that you aren't good enough when he starts cleaning, like he's doing it to spite you. But he's not. Some days, you'll conquer every aspect of motherhood. Other days, you're lucky if the baby has on clean clothes when it's all said and done. It's a part of the ride. It'll pass. Try again tomorrow.
I don't know if I've said it before, but I'll say it again. Motherhood is such a blessing. I'm learning everyday just how gracious the Lord is, and I'm so glad that he blessed us with Ella. She's a handful and I swear somedays she purposely waits until I'm in the middle of something before she decides to get hungry, but she's changed me so completely. She's 4 months old and has been the sole reason that I've clung so tightly to Jesus, and I can only imagine how much deeper I'll dig in when she starts walking and talking. Geesh Louise.
I think that's it. Here's her socktopus picture, and we'll see ya next month!
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