Macklin 5 Months

Sweet Mack,

It has begun - you've gone from being a sleepy newborn to a not-so-sleepy five month old. Ever since you hit that four month mark, you've decided that up every hour and a half is your M.O. Not to mention being fully awake, and SMILEY. You're not crying, you're not fussing; you're giggling and thrashing around in  your extremely loud bassinet. Please, PLEASE go back to sleep! My only saving grace at this point is the knowledge that this too shall pass... your sister paved a pretty awesome path for you. 

The giggles have begun. Daddy is able to make you giggle the most, but I can make a few giggles happen when o throw you in the air. Wait, did I just write that? I mean, toss you gently without ever letting you out of my hands... 

I have a feeling that you're going to be one big kid. You're always, ALWAYS grabbing for food. And Daddy's beer. You eye up beer can sand bottles like you're coming up with some kind of plan to make them yours. Your little four month-old body won't quite allow you to follow through, fortunately (for Mama and Daddy, anyways.)

You love the Jolly Jumper and will bounce happily for quite a long while. Lexi loves watching you, and you squeal at her adoringly as she places various trinkets and babies around your jumper. We're still working on teaching her what an appropriate toy to share with you is (a stuffie) and what isn't (a tiny piece of Lego or a Dorito. Seriously. She fed you a Dorito.)

We love watching you coming out of your infant slumber... but in the same breath, we're anxiously awaiting those eight hour stretches of sleep. No matter the issue, we love you, sweet Mack!

Love,

Mama

Adventures in Vanity: Microblading

So, today was the day. The day that my brows were given new life. Here's the short story: two hours after my first microblading/eyebrow embroidery session, I am SO happy with the results. For the long story, keep reading...

I arrived at Jaime's a few minutes early, my babes peppered around the County of Newell (thanks, Keeley and Lindsay!) Jaime got right to it, asking me to fill out some paperwork and waivers. I'm the kind of person who actually reads waivers before signing them and asks questions ("is it ok that I took an Advil a while ago?") so it probably took me a bit longer than usual. 

Once I was lying down, Jaime applied some numbing cream to my brows and began measuring and drawing. This part, to my surprise, took the longest. It made me kinda excited because I love measuring when I design - there's something so satisfying about symmetry. We had the whole "brows are sisters, not twins" conversation, and I admitted that it was my right brow that caused me the most grief because of a well-earned bald spot (Note: do NOT pluck the arches of your brows! Ever! Bad news!) I was complimented on the overall shape and symmetry of my brows, which, ironically, has been the result of not touching them for two months with any type of tweezer, wax, or thread. 

My brow lady extraordinaire let me take a peek in the mirror once she'd done all the measuring and drawing - I'll admit, seeing lines drawn across my brow was a little bit frightening, but intriguing at the same time. I LOVED the shape she'd drawn. She reminded me that the final result wouldn't look so "Oscar-the-Grouch-y" (aka she would not be blading me a unibrow.)

It was time to bite the bullet. 

Once she'd applied a little bit more numbing cream and allowed it to set in, Jaime got to the actual microblading. I was nervously anticipating the first stroke; she reminded me that I'd given birth. Touché. This would be nothing compared to going from 3 to 10 centimeters in 1.5 hours and delivering sans pain relief. Nothing will ever be that awesome and horrible at the same time. NOTHING. 

Using a pen-like instrument, Jaime dug in. She "drew" (scraped?) a few strokes on one side, a few on the other, and kept at it, back and forth between my brows. I'm not gonna lie - it wasn't exactly comfortable. I explained to Jaime: "it kind of just feels like you're drawing a tiny razor across my skin." To which she replied: "Well, that's pretty much exactly what I'm doing..." Oh, right. Yes, miniature needles being drawn across my face on a Thursday afternoon. This is what I'm paying good money for. The price we pay for beauty. 

And before I knew it, she was done. It was a lot quicker than I expected. It was now time for the moment of truth. I hopped off the bed, glanced in the mirror, and absolutely loved what I saw. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves. 

Two hours post-blading, I still feel a little bit crazy for letting someone slice up my eyebrows and apply semi-permanent pigment. I'm very happy with the results so far, though, and there's still some healing and fading to be done. Would I recommend microblading? Right now, yes, absolutely, if your brows cause you daily grief. I'll let you know in a few days after things have healed up and the pigment has settled. Long story short: my brows have graduated from "arghhh!" to "I'd better be careful not to look in the mirror too much - I might give myself another vanity-induced black eye" (that's a story for another rainy day.)

More Than Words

Mom,

Do you remember this? You, me, and a tiny baby Louis cuddled together at 34D Black Forest Lane. "Shhhhhh," you encouraged me quietly, beckoning me to watch my baby brother's eyes flutter to a drowsy close. I remember it so clearly: sitting in silence, revelling in the simple miracle of a sleepy baby (it seemed even more miraculous in light of my experience with my first-born, who never slept...) Awe and wonder, shaped in silence. 

Do you remember the summer of 2003, when you were visiting me in Antigonish? I was fangirl excited for you to meet my then-boyfriend, but that excitement quickly turned to devastation when he broke up with me (we are able to laugh now about the fact that we ever even dated, thankfully.) At the time, my twenty-two year old heart was destroyed, and you didn't say a word. You just held me. I collapsed into your arms (I'll admit, I'm known for being overdramatic but I come by it honestly!) and you stroked my back, held me, just gave me your presence. That is one of my favourite memories with you. 

I'll never forget this past January, where you tentatively travelled from Ontario to share in my second post-partum experience. We spent ten days sitting in the same house, managing a pouty two-year-old and getting to know a newborn baby, all the while enjoying just being with each other. We didn't need to say anything; you helped me beat the (welcome and very-loved) burden of a newborn bundle, holding him when he cried, rocking him to sleep, never giving me advice, but just sharing space and giving me your presence, the best present of all. 

By far, the best moments in life we've shared involve silence; watching, listening, being. We're both talkers and teachers; we like the sound of our own voices and often clash because of this. But in the silent moments, our bond strengthens. I am so lucky to have a quirky, eccentric, faith-filled, fur-coated mommy like you. Happy Mother's Day!

Love,

Olivia

Macklin: 4 months old

Sweet Baby Mack,

We're out of the "fourth trimester"! You're quickly coming out of that sweet baby slumber, and are interacting more and more with your environment every single day. You're watchful, communicative, and - is it a surprise to anybody? - as smiley as ever. That grin... those dimples... you'll be a heartbreaker someday.

This month, you travelled (very well, I might add) to Pincher Creek with Mama where you observed (and slept through) your first CrossFit competition. I love that hundreds of pounds dropping on the floor doesn't even phase you; in fact, after the initial shocked look, your face would usually revert back to its usual adorable smile. You managed to spit up all over Mama's CrossFit Bad Apples shirt; good thing I was sweaty and gross anyways. I loved having you with me, sharing what I love so much with the baby that I love so much!

We welcomed you into our community of faith during your baptism on April 28 at Tide Lake in Jenner, where your daddy and sister were baptised, and where your daddy and mama were married. You were smiling the entire time, and when Fr. Raul poured holy water over your head, you grinned and grinned. Happy to be a part of our Catholic faith, I'm willing to bet. We had a party afterwards and celebrated your baptism as a family and as a community. It was wonderful.

Your sister adores you, sweet baby Mack. She coos over you, brings you toys, and sometimes blames things on you ("Macklin hit me with his toy!" cue: eye roll from Mama.) You're one loved and cuddled kid. Let's see what this next month has in store!

Love,

Mama

Lexi: 3 Years Old

Dear Lexi:

It's 2:54 am, and your little brother is lying in my arms contentedly, post-feeding. How is it possible that a few months shy of three years ago, it was you on my arms, a tiny bundle of what-have-I-DONE? 

Your entrance into this world three years ago marked a tremendous shift in my life. All of the sudden, this tiny, screaming, writhing, pooping THING was entirely dependent on me for all of its needs. And, sweet girl, it was difficult. But all that has already been documented, so let's fast-forward. 

When you wake up in approximately four or five (please, PLEASE let it be at least five) hours, you will have existed what many refer to as the terrible twos, relatively unscathed. Sure, there was a bout of croup in there, along with a few scraped and kitty bites and scratches - nothing that a Finding Dory bandaid and some mama kisses wouldn't take care of. Essentially, though, your third full year on this planet wasn't so terrible. It was, in fact, terrific. 

Two was:

- "I saw a buggie! I SAW IT!" A love of worms and ladybugs, paralleled with a fear of spiders and - wait for it - noseeums. You can't even SEE noseeums. What? 

- "Me no want bad guy Tube." Your favourite foods included yogourt tubes (as long as they weren't the Darth Maul ones - way too frightening for you), apples, goldfish crackers, grape tomatoes ("bo-matoes"), any candy you could get your hands on, and Tim Hortons hash browns. That last item on the list may or may not have been fuelled by your mama's penchant for morning Timmies coffee runs. 

-Click-clack-moo, pickles, "banana" and "les buddies", "Memo", singing the Paw Patrol theme song, nine months (and going) of potty training, the sugar bug teeth brushing song, your owl hat ("it spins!"), learning how to skate, pointing out as many Bobcats as you can when we travel, Busytown, cowboy boots, Corduroy Bear, "me want Jesus and kisses and a hug."

-Purple. Purple EVERYTHING. Even a purple Christmas tree!

One of the most astounding pieces to your two year old puzzle has been your emerging discovery of faith. I'll never forget the time that Grandma came downstairs after putting you down for a nap, wondering why you were relentlessly asking for Jesus. "Does she have some kind of stuffed Jesus?" Grandma wondered (and who could blame her? You have about a million stuffies on your bed.) Nope, you wanted to pray. And pray you do, every night, rattling off the names of people you saw that day: "Dear Jesus: thank you for Mommy, and Daddy, and Macklin, and Auntie Tanya, and Maggie, and Auntie Tanya, and Maggie, and Auntie Tanya..." Dear daughter, I pray that this seed of faith takes deep root, and that your belief in and trust in a loving, merciful God carries you through life in a way that your mama and dada are not humanely capable of doing. I will fight for you; I will support you, strengthen you, nourish you, and love you, but where my human abilities end, God's endless graces are there to carry you in ways you'd never dream possible.

The sunset of your third year saw us welcome your brother into this world, which made for quite an adjustment period for all of us, but especially you. A few weeks before M was born, I felt like I was mourning our family dynamic; no longer would we be three, but four. When baby Jesus (as you so fondly referred to him in utero) punched and kicked his way out of my uterus and into this world, you were unimpressed to say the least. Daddy was SO excited for you to meet your baby brother, but you took one look at him upon entering the hospital room, jumped up onto the foot of my bed, and demanded to be read to. It took a few weeks, and now you are highly protective and loving of your Baby Mack, your sweet Mackanee.

No matter the size and dynamic of our family, you will always be my sweet baby Loops, the tiny bundle of holy-crap-what-have-I-done that increased the size of my heart manyfold, a la Grinch. I still carry you to bed in my arms (thank you, CrossFit) but I know as you become increasingly independent, those days will quickly become fewer and fewer. So I hold on tight, thinking: "I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living, my baby you'll be."

Love,

Mama 

April 2016

How is it possible that April has come to a close? It feels like we just said goodbye to a very mild March. We spent a big chunk of a supposedly rainy month (April showers bring May flowers?) in the dry heat, enjoying a trip to Carl's farm in Gem and a bonfire with Dale and Heather, doing lots of yardwork, and playing in the trees. It was amazing to witness the trees budding so early, and we had to avoid the temptation of planting our garden early. We did plant some seeds in a starter indoors, though, and Lexi loved digging the little holes and cramming as many seeds as she could into each one.

Daddy's highlight of April was the first annual Brooks Beer Bonanza, a beerfest put on by our friend Michael which featured a number of smaller breweries, mostly from Western Canada. The same weekend, Mama had the opportunity to travel to Pincher Creek with her friends Mark and Maddison to participate in the Festivus Games, a CrossFit competition "for the rest of us". It was so much fun to  compete against other athletes who were around the same level of competition. Mama placed 4th in her category; not bad for being 3 months post-partum!

Towards the end of the month, we prepared our yard for a new deck, and we welcomed Macklin into the Catholic church with a beautiful baptism at St. Mary's Tide Lake. We were again surrounded by so much family and so many friends who support our faith journey. We are blessed!

Macklin: 3 Months Old

We've made it! You're three months old, and the super sleepy infant stage has officially come to a close. You, my dear squish, are the smiliest baby alive. You smile like crazy. You love smiling. You can be in the middle of a screaming fit, and you'll just break into smiles. And you've got a smile that melts hearts. You're also babbling like crazy; I call you my little t-rex when you make your dinosaur-like shrieks. You love playing with your voice, finding higher and higher pitches seemingly every day.

You're a pretty sleepy baby so far, too. You slept eight hours at ten weeks old. Way to go; high five! There are still nights here or there when you're up every hour, but not everyone can be a perfect sleeper. I'm just so grateful that you go to bed at eight p.m., and you typically don't wake til at least one or two in the morning - sometimes three.

The exception to your smiliness and sleepiness was post-immunizations. You had your two-month immunizations this month, and for about a week, you were one unhappy kid. You barely napped, you cried all the time, and you didn't really want to nurse. This was compounded by the fact that one of your bottom teeth decided to begin pulsing below the gumline, ready to make an appearance any day now. Seriously? Why can't my kids' teeth wait until they can hold a teething ring on their own?

I felt like a pretty horrible mom a few days in your third month. The first was when your sister was at her dayhome, and I decided that I'd spend my day alone with you cleaning the house. I was doing a great job taking care of the laundry room, and to keep you entertained, I'd placed you on the little playmat with the "pie-doh" (Lexi's way of saying "spider"). As I was quickly moving back and forth, tidying, didn't I go ahead and step on your tiny foot. YES, I STEPPED ON A TWO-MONTH-OLD'S TINY FOOT! Imagine how horrible I felt! You only cried for a couple of minutes, but my heart sank to the depths of my tummy. The very next day, I was clipping your itty bitty baby nails and on the very last nail - your thumbnail - I clipped your skin. You wailed. You screamed like I've never heard you scream before. And I couldn't help but think, I caused this - your mother, the one whom you're supposed to be able to trust 100%. And so far in your short life, I've already stepped on your foot and cut your thumb. BAD MAMA!

In any case, you're still smiling like crazy and babbling up a storm. Keep telling your stories, my sweet babe - just try not to repeat the story about the time your mama stepped on your foot.