We live in a diverse community.  Our next door neighbors are from Bangledesh.  Our downstairs neighbors are Indian.  I go to the lake near our house for a walk and hear 3 different languages spoken as a group passes.  I go to get coffee and stand behind a covered woman cloaked in black with only her eyes visible.  I sit at a stoplight and look over to the car next to me and see an idol glued to the dash of the gentleman’s car.  I pass my neighbor’s door every day and see an image of a man sitting in a lotus-position, presumably some form of worship for this family.

We are a minority.  Not just religiously, but ethnically as well.  We live in one of the most unreached areas of the country.  The need for the gospel is so great that somedays it takes my breath.  People hungry, people hurting, people stuck in cycles of sin, lost in darkness.  It’s easy to forget that God is here.  It’s easy to forget that God sees all of this pain and emptiness that I so easily recognize in the eyes of those I encounter or quickly converse with.  How will they hear?  How will they know that there is one who has never changed, whose love is constant, who gave everything He had so that we could know him?

I am often brought back to God’s truth.  That it is unmatched and unrivaled.  That it is good through and through.  As the psalmist says, it is “firmly fixed in the heavens”.  When we sing on Sunday that there is none like you, it now strikes a deeper chord.  Because I regularly see what else is offered in place of God, and certainly there is nothing that can even be compared to Him.  And I am incredibly grateful that He made himself known to us.  God, help us to make you known here.

So yesterday, I needed to run a bunch of errands the last of which was a stop at the Asian market. I went in, found what I needed and headed to the checkout line. As the woman was scanning my items, I noticed her staring at Liam. Again my pride began to swell, as I imagined how cute she must think he is, that she had never in her lifetime seen such beautiful eyes on a child, and “wow, his dad must be HOT!”. Hey, he has to get his looks from somewhere, and I’m that someone that takes that man home every night. Yah, she was totally envying my life, and if she spoke better English, she probably would have told me that. I signed my credit card receipt, grabbed my bag and walked out cockily with my beautiful child in arm, heading home to my perfect life. As I walked out the front doors, I looked down and realized the source of those stares.

Unbeknownst to me, my beautiful and perfect child, had spit up all down the front of me. “Spit up” doesn’t really do the action justice. It was more like a volcanic eruption of curdled milk mixed with drool. All. Down. My. Front. He left a puke strand dangling from the bottom of my jacket between my legs. My master puker also managed to leak his treasure all over my wallet which he had decided made a great chew toy.

Then came the humbling reality that the cashier was less impressed with my child’s good looks and more astonished at his projectile qualities. In one moment I went from that easy breezy new mom with not a care in the world, to the one’s I often look down my nose at with dirty looking children that should have been given a bath before seeing the light of day.

Ah, motherhood. One moment you’ve got it all together, and the next, you remember that you produce and care for children for a living and that will never be seamless or without puke.

This morning in church as we celebrated communion, I bowed my head and began my confessions.  And utmost in my mind was my selfishness that so often rears its ugly head in my relationship with Nathan.  And then it came to me.   Like a blurred image suddenly made clear.  What if I always assumed the best of Nathan?  What if I assumed in every conversation, every action, and every gesture toward me from my husband was done with the very best intentions and motives.  How much would my marriage be different.?  How much more tenderness would enter our home?  How much less would I be brought so instantly to anger?  It seems so easy, yet so unattainable.  But I’m going to tie it a shot.  Wish me luck.

So here you have it. My self-imposed challenge to blog every day for the next 30 days. Anyone care to join me?

Maybe because it’s Liam’s first Christmas, or because we’re miles and miles away from our nearest family so the holidays can feel a bit lonesome, or perhaps it’s both, I embarked upon a journey this year to create the quintessential Christmas for our little family of three.  So armed with determination and my list, I pulled my mom jeans up to my chest (lets face it, after having a child thats more the region of my navel than the standard chest you see in Elle or Cosmo) I set to work.  My list contained things like a DIY gift idea for all of our friends that would be A) cute B) thrifty and C) appear effortless.  Other items were getting Christmas cards in the mail, shopping lists for Liam, Nathan and our extended family.  An unmentioned but clearly implied item was to complete this list with ease, organization, and grace, all without breaking a sweat. I pictured my family, Christmas morning, basking in all of the accomplished to do-items in the form of homemade cinnamon rolls, perfectly wrapped presents, stuffed stockings all while sitting in our robes sipping coffee.  Sit with me a moment and enjoy and appreciate how perfect and beautiful that little dream is.  Breath it in.  Ahhh…

Now let me tell you about my little day yesterday and the unraveling of this little dream. I woke up ready to take on my day.  After a MOPS gathering, I planned to pick Liam up from my friend (thanks Debbie!) and whisk us away on a DIY Christmas gift making mission.  A stop to Wal-Mart before heading home was all I needed.  However on the car ride over there Liam completely flipped out, crying uncontrollably.  In hindsight, I think he sensed the impending morphing of his sweet and silly mother into a Christmas season monster that I would become by 5pm, and just wasn’t looking forward to it.  After hauling him screaming out of his car seat into Wal-Mart, only to discover they didn’t have the crucial piece of my project, I hauled him back out to the car, back in his car seat, again screaming and drove him home.

I tried to remain calm, telling myself that I’d run out later that day to get what I needed once Nathan was home and that I had a mountain of other items to complete in the meantime while Liam napped.  Fast forward an hour and I am sitting in my living room holding Liam while he sleeps amidst a house that is totally destroyed, because he desperately needs to sleep and due to a nasty little cold he’s had isn’t sleeping well unless he’s being held (you Babywise moms out there are shaking your finger at me, c’mon, you know you are).  I don’t know about you, but holding a sleeping child does two completely opposite things to me at exactly the same time.  I love cuddling Liam while he sleeps and try to soak up his sweet little angelic face and at the same time as I’m chained to a chair with a zonked out child, I look around my house at all of the crap I have to do as I watch the time tick away.  By 4 o’clock, I was a complete mess.  My day had almost entirely been blown and I had yet to really accomplish anything on my “10 steps to Create Christmas Cheer” list.

By 5 o’clock, Nathan came home to a coming apart at the seams, stressed out wife because I could not seem to make any headway on anything.  At one last ditch effort to cross something off my to-do list, I ran out quickly to find that much needed piece that Wal-Mart didn’t have.  I got to a store, found what I needed (insert Hallelujah Chorus), got in line, waited for an eternity, finally was checking out, only to realize that I had, in fact, left my wallet at home.  Another wasted hour of my evening.

By this point my anxiety and frustration had turned to despair, I hit every red light on the way home and I pulled into our complex admitting defeat.  I went to my mailbox and discovered several Christmas cards of beautifully put together families smiling without a care in the world, clearly accomplishing their to-do lists without a hitch (it’s amazing what we infer from a few smiling pictures, isn’t it?).  I drug myself up to our apartment and proceeded to have myself a good long pout.

Nathan had had enough.  He began to recount all of the things that I do accomplish, of which one of them, I believe might have been keeping Liam alive, and telling me I can’t do it all, to which I tearfully choked out, “But I WANT to do it all!”

But, readers, I have to admit that he’s right.  I am not that woman. I don’t do DIY projects.  I am not a multi-tasker.  I don’t look back at the end of my day and see huge projects completed.  Dinner on the table by 6pm is a feat for me.  And *gasp* I often go to bed with my kitchen a mess.  It’s just who I am.  Of course, I have to work on being disciplined in the areas of providing for my family, feeding them, and making sure they always walk out the door with clean underwear on, but much beyond that, I don’t really have the capacity to keep up.

And why has it taken me this long to admit that isn’t me?  Because I’m not entirely satisfied with who I am.  I want to be something I’m not.  I want to be the woman that I feel like is every other woman I see in blogs, Facebook statuses, and Tweets.  I want to have a pulled together seamless home.  Maybe one day I’ll get there, though with the addition of more children that is a far off and lofty goal.  That isn’t the way God wired me, and honestly, I’m exhausted from worrying about trying to be that woman.

So this last week I’ve been working on focusing on the areas that God has designed me to succeed in.  I’m trying to remember what the heck we celebrate this season for too and not get caught up in the expectations or stress of Christmas.  I’ve also been taking a step back and re-evaluating the things I give my time to and recognizing that at this stage of life my primary vocation is my family.  At the end of the day, if I can say I invested well in my family, then I’m trying to be satisfied with what I accomplished.  So here’s to Christmas cheer that isn’t based on all that I accomplished, the cuteness of my Christmas packages or gifts, but the humble reminder that Jesus came in human form, to dwell among us, and my debt.  Oh, and if you received one of my DIY Christmas gifts, please, for my own sake and pride, just smile and tell me it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever been given.

Liam at 4 1/2 months

Liam’s stats today at his 4 month :  16 lbs (76th percentile) and 26 inches (96th percentile).  Read:  Longer body, still pretty chubby!

Liam had a lot of fun this month!  He got to meet his new BFF for life, Ralph Stern.

Ralph and Liam holding hands

He celebrated his first Thanksgiving and saw his first snow in Sequoia National Forest.

First Thanksgiving*Stolen from Abby Flies*At Sequoia Nat'l Park

Favorite activities include chewing on fingers, sleeping like a champ (still!), and snuggling Mommy and Daddy!

Daddy's fingers taste good too!

Liam had a big month!  He took his first plane ride, met his Aunt Alicia (whom he told me he’s crazy about!), met his Great Grandmother, visited Canada for the first time, dipped his toes in the Alantic Ocean, and went on his first camping trip!  Phew, that was a busy month!  It was a ton of fun.

Our family on Prince Edward Island

All worn out from meeting his Great Great Aunts and Uncles

Liam with his Great Grandmother, NannyWith Grampy and Nana

I’m guessing Liam is now around 15-16 lbs, and wearing size 6 month and up!  I think he’s slowly starting to space out his feedings now to every four hours, because let’s face it, the boy isn’t going hungry.  I had Liam in the Moby Wrap yesterday at MOPS and several of the Asian mom’s looked at me in horror when I told them he was only 3 months old.  I think they think I feed him large hunks of red meat every feeding.  Liam could squash some of there 15 month old kids with his right thumb.  Who knew we’d have such a giant?

Liam also started to “talk” to us in the last month.  Oh my heavens, am I in love with his “ohs” and “ahs”.  He really has no interest in playing with anything I dangle over his head.  He’ll stare at it for a little while and then try to look around it so he can look at my face and “talk”.  I think we may have a little extrovert on our hands.  His Grampy (Nathan’s Dad), Nathan and Grandma (my mom) seem to get some of the best conversations with him.

He also now is totally into standing.  Anytime his feet hit a hard surface he arches his back and straightens his legs.  He really likes to sit up in his Bumbo for about 20 minutes, at which point his jowls get the best of him and he can no longer fight gravity and sags his head.  Tummy time still is an inconvenience to him but he stays propped up on his elbows for longer periods of time now.

Liam's first camping trip to the Pacific Ocean

Liam still doesn’t disappoint in the sleeping department.  It seems that there is little we can do to throw off his sleep schedule.  He averages 11-14 hours of sleep a night and several naps that I’m starting to figure out.  He still loves to be swaddled but will put himself to sleep in his own bed without a peep.

Nathan and I just love this little boy to bits and pieces.  Though he’s only 3 months, I’m already starting to see glimpses into his personality.  Though he’s talkative, he’s pretty soft spoken and responds best when you calmly speak to him rather than lots of stimulation.  He’s not a fan of large crowds and needs time to adjust to new situations before I start handing him off to new people.  He can also stare down someone with a furrowed brow like nobody’s business, but once he’s warmed up can flash them the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen.  He seems, so far, to be a pretty even blend of Nathan and I’s personalities.

We can’t wait to see what new tricks he masters in this next month!