Last night was a battle. Baby did NOT want to go to sleep. A little after 11 o’clock, I finally managed to woo him to sleep by singing “Jesus Loves Me”, his bedtime song, over and over again as we rocked in the rocking chair. As I walked him slowly to his crib. As we stood by the crib. As I laid him down in the crib and covered him with his blanky. As I turned off the light and slowly moved toward the door. As I stood in the doorway. As I stood in the hall by my own bedroom door, inching towards my comfy bed.

And he slept until almost 7 o’clock. Blessed relief!!! After the four o’clock AM screaming sessions we’ve endured all weekend everyone was much relieved.

When he woke up, he yelled for a bit, but didn’t start crying until he saw Daddy up and about getting ready for work. I finally got out of bed and went and got him out of the crib. I snuggled him into bed next to me and got him calmed down enough for both of us to rest quietly until breakfast time.

And that’s when all hell broke loose.

Once in his highchair, every time he coughed he cried hysterically and began refusing his food. He knocked the full spoon out of my hands more than once. Snot flowed freely out of his nose and he wouldn’t let me wipe it. I had to wrestle him to give him his medicine. He just cried and screamed and then cried and screamed some more. I wasn’t going to be able to eat my own breakfast even. Not that I could anyway – somehow we were out of all my breakfast foods. All I had was a measly quarter-cup of steel cut oatmeal. And a screaming baby. And sleep deprivation.

So I did what any mature, sweet, gracious, good Christian woman would do.

NOT.

Yep, I lost it. Completely. I yelled at my baby. I threw dishes into the sink. When my husband called to check on us I yelled at him for not getting me any breakfast food when he had gone to the store the day before. Then I hung up on him. And hurled my phone across the living room. And jumped up and down and yelled some more at how stinking unfair life is while my baby continued crying in his highchair.

It’s painful and humbling for me to type that out and hit the “publish” button. I know there are going to be people who are completely aghast at my behavior and who will judge me from behind the anonymity of their computer screen and say they are so concerned about whether or not I’m fit to be a mother.

Well, let those who are without sin cast the first stone. I am deeply ashamed of how I acted and spoke in that moment. So go ahead and twist the knife in my wound. I’m twisting it enough for all of us – join the party.You can sit and watch while I twist it. Bring popcorn if you’d like.

I tell ya that to tell ya this:

Another blogger I read did a post today about realizing her own shortcomings in her marriage and in life in general. I left a comment that said something along the lines of how much harder it is to ask God to change us into the wives He wants us to be rather than to just ask Him to change our husbands.

And then conviction smacked me like a six-year-old going after a pinata full of candy.

I failed this morning. I failed at being a mom, I failed at being a wife. I owed my husband and baby more than an apology – I owed them, and God, full-blown repentance. I was not being the wife and mom God called me to be, and I needed to give it another shot.

It was noon by then. Time to get the baby up for lunch. With the conviction of the Holy Spirit heavy on my heart, I went and got my current favorite worship CD and popped it into the stereo. There was a battle going on in my home and I was going to do everything I could to win it. I may have failed, but I am not a failure. The day was not over.

I went and got my baby. Tears welled up in my eyes and dripped down my cheeks as I plucked him out of his crib, a big grin on his chubby face, and said “Mommy needs to repent to you – I am so, so sorry for my words and actions this morning. Please forgive me.” He forgave me instantly with a big snuggle.

I picked up my phone and typed out a text message to my husband (it’s hard for him to take calls at work) repenting to him for failing at being a wife in that moment and asking his forgiveness. He responded with so much love it made me cry again. I can’t wait to greet him when he gets home from work tonight, to seal our reconciliation with a long hug and the words “I love you.”

And I prayed. I repented to God for my words and actions, and asked Him to shape me into the wife and mother He has called me to be. As I prayed, worship music in the background, my home filled with a tangible peace I have not felt all weekend. The baby felt it too. I know he did, for his demeanor was so different than it was this morning.

I am not perfect. I will never pretend to be. I will do my best to never sink into a “woe is me” attitude either. I have been in that dark, dark place where the words “You’re a failure!!!” echoed through my mind again and again, lies from the enemy shouted in the darkness of night when I was more alone than I’ve ever felt in my entire life. I’ve been there. I know how it feels. And I will not sink into that place again.

Because I may have failed today, but I am not a failure. God has given me victory and I am going to cling to that with everything I have in me. And now I’m crying again. I want that for everyone – to have victory over the failures and to own it. We all fail from time to time, but we are not failures.

Thank you, Lord, for not abandoning me in that place so long ago. Thank you for not giving up on me, for standing at the edge of the pit with your hand outstretched, waiting so patiently for me to look up and take it. Thank you for giving me victory over and over and over again. In this moment I am awestruck by what you have done for me. I love you.

His blanky. His crib. His favorite pajamas. A kiddo couldn’t ask for much more.

I spent the night on his bedroom floor atop the cushions from our biggest couch, waking up every time he coughed, which wasn’t as terribly often as it was the night before. He was happy and playful this morning when he woke up. He took his medicine like a man (whereas last night the medicine induced tears and barf, all over Mommy). He’s chugging milk like it’s going out of style today. If he’s still doing better at bedtime I think I’ll sleep in my own bed tonight.

I’m so proud of my little guy. He’s such a trooper.

…my little brother is kicking my husband’s butt at Wii.

…my baby is upstairs trying to sleep.

…my baby and I just spent ten minutes sitting in the bathroom with the door closed with the shower on full-blast as hot as it will go.

…the humidifier in my baby’s room is also going full blast.

…if you haven’t already guessed, my baby is sick.

…I’m sleeping in his room tonight because that’s what the nifty handout my pediatrician gave me said to do.

…if I didn’t sleep in his room I wouldn’t sleep at all because I’d be straining to hear him anyway.

…my hair is all frizzy and curly from the steam in the bathroom.

…watching two gigantically tall men play Wii is entertaining.

…I’m thinking about snacking on the leftover stew we had for dinner.

…I’m glad it’s the weekend.

…I hope my baby is well enough to go to church on Sunday.

…I love my baby. And my husband. And my life. It’s good.

That’s all!

Well, we made it! We’re weaned.

Yesterday I decided to pull the plug and eliminate Caleb’s last nursing. We started back in late November eliminating nursings. One nice thing about having him on a schedule is it made the process of weaning very logical to figure out. Drop one nursing, give him a little time to get used to it, drop another when I felt he was ready. I went in the order of the nursings he was least interested in – the four o’clock PM was the first to go, followed by the noon, the 8 o’clock bedtime, and finally, breakfast.

It’s gone pretty smoothly. I’m pleasantly surprised and very blessed. Kiddo didn’t even blink when we dropped the first nursing, was only mildly confused initially when we dropped the noon one, barely noticed when the bedtime one disappeared, and this morning when we didn’t nurse after he got up it didn’t seem to bother him that much.

I’m not going to try to pinpoint why exactly it went so smoothly for us, and I’m not so naive as to think it will go that smoothly with my next baby. Every baby is different, and I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. It probably has a lot to do with Caleb’s own personal temperament. I’d like to think my methods had something to do with it, but I guess we’ll see when I test them out on the next kid!

For one, I never nursed him to sleep. I just made up my mind I wasn’t going to do that. Why? Because I always hear the same story – it’s so sweet and cuddly and intimate…and then it’s an absolute trial and ordeal to wean from. Maybe that hasn’t been everyone’s experience, but it’s the most common story I’ve heard. I figured if I could prevent that trial and ordeal, make things a little easier on everyone, I’d give it a shot. I’m glad I did. It wasn’t easy at first. His favorite thing to do as a newborn was fall asleep while nursing, which posed the extra problem the first few days of him not getting enough to eat! So we worked really hard with him to help him get into a pattern of nursing after naps instead of before during the day. The only time I’d nurse him and then put him straight to bed was at night. Even at bedtime, nursing was the first part of the routine. By the time he got to the crib, he’d gone through diaper change, pajamas, story, prayer, kisses, and lullaby since nursing. It was important to us that his bedtime routine was able to translate past the nursing phase, so that he would have that comfort, that cue that it’s time to go to sleep, after he was weaned and we wouldn’t be starting again from scratch. It’s a practice I plan to use with all our children.

The other thing is I waited until I knew he was ready. I needed to be sure he was getting enough hydration from his sippy cup to be able to start weaning. That was the big thing for me. Whatever emotional issues happened, I knew we’d get over, but what’s most important to me is making sure he’s nourished. I never had an end date in mind. I always said we’d shoot for a year and see how it went. When he got good with a sippy cup and started losing interest in nursing, I felt secure that he was ready to move in that direction. He was a week or two out from turning one at that point.

So it was never really about me being ready to wean. I never really developed an emotional attachment to nursing. Don’t get me wrong – I don’t in any way take it for granted. I know there are a lot of women out there who would love to nurse their babies but can’t for various reasons. I am very grateful that my body has done such a good job for me and my baby with nursing. I am very grateful for a supportive husband, friends, and family who stuck out those first few rough weeks with me while we were getting the hang of it. For me, though, there was always a logical undertone in my feelings towards nursing – it’s a temporary thing, a chapter in our life. All chapters must come to an end. Will there be things I’ll miss about nursing? Maybe in the future there will be. It hasn’t come up yet. I will always remember and cherish those things, those moments. But there are so many new things to cherish in this next chapter and I am enjoying them as much as I can!

I’m still Caleb’s favorite person to snuggle with. I’m still the one he wants when he’s scared or bonks his head or isn’t feeling well. Even though we’re done with the chapter of nursing, he still knows who his Mama is and loves me, and that is what I cherish most of all. He’s getting old enough now that he chooses what he wants to do, so I know it’s a choice for him to cuddle with me, and I love that. I absolutely love it. I soak in every moment when he reaches for me, snuggles into my chest, and pops his thumb in his mouth.

And I’m not talking about that darn clingy phase! That, I do not miss in the least. I do not consider that “cuddling”. That was stressful and exhausting and I am glad we are past it. I’m glad he’s friendlier in large groups. I’m glad he’ll play with his grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins and friends instead of cowering on my lap with his face buried in my shirt, screaming his head off if I even think about trying to give him to his daddy or one of his grandmas so I can…oh, I don’t know, pee!

The phase we’re in is so much fun. He’s finally crawling. He’ll pull himself up on things to stand on his knees. He loves to play on the couch or our big bed, flinging himself back to go “boom!” on the soft cushions and pillows. He loves to sit on our laps and play with books. He’s developed a love of dogs – he goes nuts when he sees a dog. He loves to lay down with Daddy on pillows on the floor and just hang out. He loves to snuggle into my lap and watch the occasional Veggie Tales. He loves playing with other babies. He adores his cousins and his grandparents. And he adores puffs and applesauce. And he adores me. And I adore him.

The end of one chapter. The beginning of the next. Life is beautiful.

We try not to go out out too terribly often, even though we love it. We love dates and good food and spending time together. And good food. And some more good food. And dates.

So why not bring date night home from time to time?

Date night food doesn’t have to be super-fancy or foreign or girly. Oh, I like all of the above foods, but ladies, come on, wouldn’t your man (well, most men I know anyway) just turn into goo if he walked in to a big ol’ bowl of beef stew for date night at home?

Heck, I’d turn into goo, too! Especially for this beef stew. This one is a little special. It’s a little tiny bit fancy, but still stew. I saw a chef make it on television (yes, yes, I watch too much food TV) and had to try my hand at it. Now, it’s a staple on our menu.

Beef and Butternut Squash Stew.

Judge not, before you try it. I know the combination sounds a bit strange. But it really is oh so delectable.

A couple of notes:

If you don’t have fresh herbs, a heaping teaspoon each of dried does just fine.

I use arrowroot powder instead of flour to coat the meat and as a thickener, but you can use whatever your little heart desires. Though I could probably use my quinoa flour too. Or oat flour. Hmmm, must try that next time…

If you use a “cooking wine” version of Marsala, check the label for salt content. Wines labeled “cooking wine” often have salt added, up to a teaspoon per 8 ounces. If you are using a “cooking wine”, you do not need to add salt to the recipe. Trust me. Even my salt-fiend of a husband acknowledges this.

And now wine aficionados everywhere are clutching their hair and wailing in agony because I told you to use “cooking wine”.

Bah. I’m on a budget. They can wail all they want. I use the cheap stuff. Plus, I can get the cheap stuff at Wal-Mart (it’s with the fancy balsamic vinegars and things of the like on the condiment aisle). One less stop for me! And I don’t have to show my ID.

Now, the stew.

The bonus to this stew is that it makes your entire house smell incredible. Whenever I make this stew, my husband inhales deeply and then sighs in contentment as he walks in the door after work. The herbs, the Marsala…it’s a beautiful thing when it happens.

It starts with the onion, garlic, and herbs.

At this point, the aroma begins to waft through the main living area.

When you add the Marsala, after browning the beef, the scent reaches the second floor.

After everything has been combined and allowed to simmer for a while, it has even permeated the garage and overcome the stench of oil and exhaust.

Okay, maybe not. But it comes close.

Serve it in your pretty bowls – you know, the ones you got as wedding presents that stay put away unless it’s a holiday because you would have a conniption if they got broken.

And sprinkle fresh parsley on top for a little splash of green.

Get out the nice wine glasses and a beverage that comes in a tall glass bottle (sparkling juice, whatever floats your boat). Light some candles. Put on some Norah Jones music.

Oh, and take off your apron so he can actually see the cute outfit you made the effort to put on.

Unless you’re me, and you’ve spent the entire day in your pajama pants and ran upstairs to throw on some jeans and a t-shirt right before your husband walks in the door. Then you can leave the apron on.

But once he gets his hands on this stew, he probably won’t care if you’re wearing your lazy jeans and slippers or a Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress and stilettos.

Not that I have a Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress.

Not that I would wear it to make stew if I did.

Oh, whatever. You get the point. Schedule date night. Make this stew. The End.

Don’t I have the most handsome boys in the world?

One thing I’ve learned in my short time in the blogging community – when something catches, it spreads like wildfire. Prayers get prayed, needs get met, miracles happen. It’s a powerful network. One person blogs about a need, others link to it, and eventually the spark finds just the right place and catches fire.

Tonight, I’m passing along a spark, in hope it will soon turn into an absolute wildfire and flood this family with the love, prayer, and ultimately support they need.

I don’t personally know this family, and they don’t personally know me. I learned about them through a friend. We have a connection through a program at church, a long time ago, though I don’t think we’ve ever personally met. Doesn’t make a difference though. Their story grabbed my heart and hasn’t let go. It will do the same to you.

Pray for them, give to them, spread their story. Whatever you can do. Let’s start a wildfire.

What about Norah?

For more technical details about the process they’re going through, next read here.

I am about to do something I swore I would never do.

I am about to post a picture of myself without makeup.

Over the weekend I had an allergic reaction to some new skin care. The products did absolute miracles for my acne, but then a couple of days later I broke out in a rash. It was probably the lavender that was in the product. The specialist at the store said lavender skin allergies aren’t uncommon.

So lesson learned. I should have tested it on the inside of my forearm before putting it on my face. *facepalm*

The rash is almost gone now – I’ve been using delicate skin care and applying pure aloe vera juice since Sunday night. And using other soothing things that have been helping my skin stay moisturized while the rash heals.

So, are you ready?

Try not to run.

Me, without makeup.

Hah! Made ya look!

That is a mixture of avocado, olive oil, and a squirt of some all-natural acne treatment gel I had on hand. The gel had never done much to get rid of my acne but is really good at reducing redness and swelling. Soft skin is mine today! Bwa ha ha haaaa!

I know, I know – olive oil on acne prone skin??? The horror!!!! :-O

But here’s the thing – oils are not our enemy. Our skin needs them. Most acne treatment products on the market are way harsh. They focus on stripping the oils from our skin, which ultimately creates imbalance in our pores, which creates issues later in life as we age. Right now, I am trying to find a way to treat my acne-prone-dry-very-sensitive skin without creating imbalance. That means I use oils. And you know what? The right oils do not clog pores and create acne.

So show the oils some love, people.

Not evil in the true sense of the word. He’s actually a very good man.

But.

He DID line up all the noisy toys in front of the baby tonight.

Sigh.

Oh well. Whaddya do.

Take pictures and put it on the blog.