She is growing up way too fast.
She bought this with her own money. She was so, SOOO proud.
Finished off with Mommy's old ballet slippers...
...and she's in heaven.
Twirling around the house.
Our beautiful ballerina.
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
our beautiful ballerina...
I love this girl.
She is growing up way too fast.
She bought this with her own money. She was so, SOOO proud.
Finished off with Mommy's old ballet slippers...
...and she's in heaven.
Twirling around the house.
Our beautiful ballerina.
She is growing up way too fast.
She bought this with her own money. She was so, SOOO proud.
Finished off with Mommy's old ballet slippers...
...and she's in heaven.
Twirling around the house.
Our beautiful ballerina.
Monday, February 11, 2013
Saturday, February 9, 2013
families don't have to match...
Go on, let's be honest.
The words "transracial adoption" can be a little scary for many people considering adoption.
Maybe uncomfortable might be a better word.
Perhaps it's because inherent within those two simple words, transracial adoption, is an idea of forever committing oneself to another who is utterly different than you. Outside of you.
Perhaps it's uncomfortable because it means entering into that which you feel overwhelmingly unqualified.
Opening yourself up to another culture.
Opening yourself up to looking different than the "typical" family.
Risking hurtful comments or stares from others.
You might even wonder, who wants to sign up for THAT?!?
You see, I never dreamed my family would be a transracial one. The picture in my head of what my family would look like someday always included children that looked like me. I knew I wanted to adopt. But I didn't want it to look like I had adopted.
My husband was quite the opposite. He's had a dream of having a black son for a number of years, but together we decided that for now, we weren't up for inviting the stares and the questions that a transracial adoption was sure to bring.
I would look at other transracial families with such deep admiration, but the thought that my family could be transracial never seriously crossed my mind before we began the adoption process. Sometimes I secretly longed to hear more about how they came to open their hearts to a child of another race. But I didn't dare ask.
Lo and behold, who knew I would be the one joining their ranks?!
Until, of course, the Lord worked beautifully upon my heart. At just the right time, He broke through so many of my fears, my hesitations, my desires for what was comfortable, and He gave me the most amazing gift of my life.
I'm now a proud, proud mama to the cutest half-Haitian, half-African American baby boy!
If you've grown up "lily white" like me, discussions of race weren't necessarily around your dinner table. We were taught not to see color. Thus, most of us are blind to issues that people with color know all too well because we're so busy not seeing it. White culture wants to teach us that race is only skin deep, but deep down, I think we all know it's not quite that simple. And what I'm finding is that as I come to embrace another culture as rich as Jameson's, I'm seeing more clearly the ugliness in my own.
My eyes are being opened to realities like white privilege and systemic racial discrimination that I ignorantly thought were long gone. I never had to think about these things at this level.
But now I have a black son. So it's personal.
And now I'm finding myself a little sad how silent and truly ignorant we in the white community are in these matters.
But the process of adoption begins to bring some of these things to light.
I'm convinced that couples entering the adoption process are one of the few people who are forced to face their own built-in, deeply-rooted ideas and stereotypes of various cultures and races and analyze them.
Are we open to a baby that doesn't look like us? Can we love a child of a different ethnicity? And if so, how far away from our culture or skin color are we willing to go? How would our families and our community react?
Even the uncomfortable job of filling out a child acceptance form begins a work in our hearts to ask ourselves very hard, soul-searching questions.
And that's a good thing.
For some, the thought of crossing racial and cultural lines comes extremely easy. They might come to adoption with the initial hopes of adopting transracially.
For some like me, it was a little larger expanse to cross. I considered it, and I admired it in others' families. But I wasn't quite ready to commit to it for my family.
And for others, it will never be considered or embraced, often for legitimate reasons.
Now, I think it should go without saying that adopting transracially is not for everyone, and those who do not adopt outside of their culture or color should never face any condemnation for deciding what is best for their family. It's important that any child have a family and a loving extended family where he/she can feel no different than any other family member.
So how, then, did I cross the line to sign up for transracial adoption?
As one who initially wanted to take on the least amount of risk into my family, it's not that easy to explain the changes that took place in my heart. I can only attribute it to the slow, patient, transforming work of the Holy Spirit.
I can also look back and see that even though transracial adoption may not have been on my radar screen, God was working sovereignly behind the scenes through others around me and through circumstances in my life. He was perfectly setting the stage long before I would see it:
The words "transracial adoption" can be a little scary for many people considering adoption.
Maybe uncomfortable might be a better word.
Perhaps it's because inherent within those two simple words, transracial adoption, is an idea of forever committing oneself to another who is utterly different than you. Outside of you.
Perhaps it's uncomfortable because it means entering into that which you feel overwhelmingly unqualified.
Opening yourself up to another culture.
Opening yourself up to looking different than the "typical" family.
Risking hurtful comments or stares from others.
You might even wonder, who wants to sign up for THAT?!?
You see, I never dreamed my family would be a transracial one. The picture in my head of what my family would look like someday always included children that looked like me. I knew I wanted to adopt. But I didn't want it to look like I had adopted.
My husband was quite the opposite. He's had a dream of having a black son for a number of years, but together we decided that for now, we weren't up for inviting the stares and the questions that a transracial adoption was sure to bring.
I would look at other transracial families with such deep admiration, but the thought that my family could be transracial never seriously crossed my mind before we began the adoption process. Sometimes I secretly longed to hear more about how they came to open their hearts to a child of another race. But I didn't dare ask.
Lo and behold, who knew I would be the one joining their ranks?!
Until, of course, the Lord worked beautifully upon my heart. At just the right time, He broke through so many of my fears, my hesitations, my desires for what was comfortable, and He gave me the most amazing gift of my life.
I'm now a proud, proud mama to the cutest half-Haitian, half-African American baby boy!
If you've grown up "lily white" like me, discussions of race weren't necessarily around your dinner table. We were taught not to see color. Thus, most of us are blind to issues that people with color know all too well because we're so busy not seeing it. White culture wants to teach us that race is only skin deep, but deep down, I think we all know it's not quite that simple. And what I'm finding is that as I come to embrace another culture as rich as Jameson's, I'm seeing more clearly the ugliness in my own.
My eyes are being opened to realities like white privilege and systemic racial discrimination that I ignorantly thought were long gone. I never had to think about these things at this level.
But now I have a black son. So it's personal.
And now I'm finding myself a little sad how silent and truly ignorant we in the white community are in these matters.
But the process of adoption begins to bring some of these things to light.
I'm convinced that couples entering the adoption process are one of the few people who are forced to face their own built-in, deeply-rooted ideas and stereotypes of various cultures and races and analyze them.
Are we open to a baby that doesn't look like us? Can we love a child of a different ethnicity? And if so, how far away from our culture or skin color are we willing to go? How would our families and our community react?
Even the uncomfortable job of filling out a child acceptance form begins a work in our hearts to ask ourselves very hard, soul-searching questions.
And that's a good thing.
For some, the thought of crossing racial and cultural lines comes extremely easy. They might come to adoption with the initial hopes of adopting transracially.
For some like me, it was a little larger expanse to cross. I considered it, and I admired it in others' families. But I wasn't quite ready to commit to it for my family.
And for others, it will never be considered or embraced, often for legitimate reasons.
Now, I think it should go without saying that adopting transracially is not for everyone, and those who do not adopt outside of their culture or color should never face any condemnation for deciding what is best for their family. It's important that any child have a family and a loving extended family where he/she can feel no different than any other family member.
So how, then, did I cross the line to sign up for transracial adoption?
As one who initially wanted to take on the least amount of risk into my family, it's not that easy to explain the changes that took place in my heart. I can only attribute it to the slow, patient, transforming work of the Holy Spirit.
I can also look back and see that even though transracial adoption may not have been on my radar screen, God was working sovereignly behind the scenes through others around me and through circumstances in my life. He was perfectly setting the stage long before I would see it:
- My husband's brother and sis-in-law got permanent custody of five biracial children. We watched the extended family adjust and embrace them, as we felt our own hearts falling in love with each of them, too. We felt ourselves wondering how could we not love any child, no matter their skin color?
- Through mission trips with Sunshine Gospel Ministries in southside Chicago, our own fears and prejudices were exposed in light of the goodness of the Gospel, which is that we have a Savior who came to call ALL nations and races to Himself! Adoption is a tiny picture of how God adopts those from all walks of life into His family.
- Over the years, we watched as many of our friends adopted transracially, loving children just as if they had born them themselves. They were so inspirational to us.
- In our adoption journey just one month prior to our son's birth, we faced a rejection from a birthmother for a caucasian son. It was so, SO painful. But it was through that pain, God helped us to see our calling wasn't to look like everyone else. (Just like it took the pain of infertility for God to lead us to His plan A: adoption!)
I could share so many more details, but the point is that God was working all around me, all along.
And it's only now that I can see how clearly He was weaving all of those stories together for my story.
Adopting transracially feels intensely and unbelievably rewarding and enriching. Jameson has brought color to our life! It has naturally opened doors and given us cultural experiences and interactions that we wouldn't have known otherwise. I don't just see black people now-- I need them! (What does a white girl like me know about helping my son navigate black culture, after all?)
Now that I'm on the other side of transracial adoption, I can't help but feel a twinge of sadness for those who haven't yet experienced it! ha! :) Wow, God's providence is amazing.
And good grief, I couldn't love my son any more if his skin were light. He's mine. Families don't have to match. God's family certainly doesn't!
But I'm not naive. There are certainly going to be challenges to adopting transracially, too.
We've always been the "adoption people." Our five-year old daughter is adopted, too, but because she shares our skin color, we have always been more in control of when we shared about her adoption. But now? It's more obvious that we're THE adoption people. Jameson's skin puts it "out there," which means we get more questions and a few more stares. In the years to come, we will HAVE to talk lots about race in our family and the shameful history between whites and blacks. Unfortunately in addition to all the regular parenting stuff, we'll have to prepare our son for the moments of racial discrimination he will inevitably face in his life.
It's all a balance, though.
Being a transracial family is a unique balancing act in being aware of race and being pro-active about it, yet being careful not to over-emphasize race, as it's only one of many factors that define who we are.
In one sense, we don't want to ignore it. It isn't just skin. I want my son to be able to navigate comfortably between both white and black culture.
But in another sense, we don't want to overdo it. Race is a big part of us, but it isn't the only thing that makes us who we are. We share WAY more commonalities with our son than differences. We're ALL made in His image.
So there you have it.
I still have lots more questions than answers about transracial adoption. I'm certainly no expert.
Some days I find myself looking into my three month old's big, beautiful brown eyes and apologizing for my white-ness.
Some days I worry I'll screw him up.
Some days I don't really "know" what I'm supposed to be doing. (does any parent, adoptive or biological?)
But I've got a little baby boy to raise.
And he's got a white family that's crazy about him.
And I couldn't be more grateful to the Lord for all He has done.
Friday, February 8, 2013
four in three...
Sometimes life feels like two steps forward, one step back.
Our little guy is growing beautifully. (He's still only in the 10-25% for his age, but we like him itty bitty!)
Today he turned three months old.
Three months ago, he weighed just over six pounds.
He was smaller than James John, the Cabbage Patch doll!
And now? He's almost twelve pounds, towering over James John!
So even with the silent reflux stuff, the good news is that he's having no trouble doing what babies are supposed to do: grow! Way to go, buddy!
Several weeks ago, we switched to a hypoallergenic formula (which costs an arm and a leg, of course...) and started some medicine to help his reflux. We figured out some other tricks-of-the-trade for helping reflux babies-- keeping them upright for 30 minutes after feeding, elevating one side of the crib, thickening his bottle with a touch of rice cereal to help keep everything "down," etc. etc.
It felt like we were getting a hold on things, and then for whatever reason, the reflux kicked back up.
Here's what's happening...
Acid from his stomach comes up his throat and even into his nose at times.
That causes his body to produce mucous to protect his nasal passageways.
Then the protective mucous gets him congested.
And the congestion moves to his ears and becomes infected.
At his two month well-visit, he had his second ear infection.
Thus, we treated with an antibiotic. Everything looked good and clear at the follow-up visit last week. We were relieved.
Unfortunately, just a few days after our follow up appointment, the reflux started acting up again. And again came the cycle of symptoms.
Please, let's not head to ANOTHER ear infection, God! was my prayer this week.
But that's exactly where we were headed.
This afternoon, just after a sweet lunch date with Mommy and Daddy where Jameson was cooing and all smiles, he came home and began screaming out inconsolably in pain.
It was awful. It broke our hearts.
All four of us were in tears.
Even Caroline ran to the computer to type out this message:
____________________________________
And for the chilled-out, happy and relaxed baby that Jameson naturally is,
today's episode made it easy to know we needed to take him in.
Sure enough, another ear infection.
Our doctor said it's not yet time to talk about tubes. He's too little. She did say, however, she thinks that's where we're headed.
I know lots of kids get ear infections, and I know lots of kids get tubes in their ears. (We'll cross that bridge when it comes.) But it doesn't seem like those moms are quite as heartbroken and anxious as I feel right now! Um, hello- four infected ears in 3 months?? Am I just a wimp, or is this just really as hard as it feels? My heart is so broken for this little one!
We need to outgrow this reflux stuff NOW!
I know he'll be okay, and in a day or so, he'll be feeling much better. But I feel like we're just waiting for the shoe to drop until the next time around, perhaps in a few weeks from now.
(deep breath)
For someone who looooves being in control, I'm feeling so helpless right now.
I just want him to be okay.
I love him so much.
No mama wants to see her baby in pain.
Praying the Great Physician will comfort and heal
my sweet baby boy tonight.
Our little guy is growing beautifully. (He's still only in the 10-25% for his age, but we like him itty bitty!)
Today he turned three months old.
Three months ago, he weighed just over six pounds.
He was smaller than James John, the Cabbage Patch doll!
And now? He's almost twelve pounds, towering over James John!
So even with the silent reflux stuff, the good news is that he's having no trouble doing what babies are supposed to do: grow! Way to go, buddy!
Several weeks ago, we switched to a hypoallergenic formula (which costs an arm and a leg, of course...) and started some medicine to help his reflux. We figured out some other tricks-of-the-trade for helping reflux babies-- keeping them upright for 30 minutes after feeding, elevating one side of the crib, thickening his bottle with a touch of rice cereal to help keep everything "down," etc. etc.
It felt like we were getting a hold on things, and then for whatever reason, the reflux kicked back up.
Here's what's happening...
Acid from his stomach comes up his throat and even into his nose at times.
That causes his body to produce mucous to protect his nasal passageways.
Then the protective mucous gets him congested.
And the congestion moves to his ears and becomes infected.
At his two month well-visit, he had his second ear infection.
Thus, we treated with an antibiotic. Everything looked good and clear at the follow-up visit last week. We were relieved.
Unfortunately, just a few days after our follow up appointment, the reflux started acting up again. And again came the cycle of symptoms.
Please, let's not head to ANOTHER ear infection, God! was my prayer this week.
But that's exactly where we were headed.
This afternoon, just after a sweet lunch date with Mommy and Daddy where Jameson was cooing and all smiles, he came home and began screaming out inconsolably in pain.
It was awful. It broke our hearts.
All four of us were in tears.
Even Caroline ran to the computer to type out this message:
____________________________________
Dear mom and dad
I love you so much I am not happy about Jameson’s CRY CRY CRY!!!! :( oh no!! sorry about his cry!!
He is so FUNNY!! Oh my goodness that’s a bad cry I’ve ever heard!!
Love,
Caroline
oh goodness I am sorry about his cry :( OH MY GOODNESS (“HELP ME LORD GOD”)
(“ I WILL HELP HIM LAMB’S”)
Love caroline
___________________________________
And for the chilled-out, happy and relaxed baby that Jameson naturally is,
today's episode made it easy to know we needed to take him in.
Sure enough, another ear infection.
Our doctor said it's not yet time to talk about tubes. He's too little. She did say, however, she thinks that's where we're headed.
I know lots of kids get ear infections, and I know lots of kids get tubes in their ears. (We'll cross that bridge when it comes.) But it doesn't seem like those moms are quite as heartbroken and anxious as I feel right now! Um, hello- four infected ears in 3 months?? Am I just a wimp, or is this just really as hard as it feels? My heart is so broken for this little one!
We need to outgrow this reflux stuff NOW!
I know he'll be okay, and in a day or so, he'll be feeling much better. But I feel like we're just waiting for the shoe to drop until the next time around, perhaps in a few weeks from now.
(deep breath)
For someone who looooves being in control, I'm feeling so helpless right now.
I just want him to be okay.
I love him so much.
No mama wants to see her baby in pain.
Praying the Great Physician will comfort and heal
my sweet baby boy tonight.
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
february flashback #13...
It's February! So you long-time CrazyforCaroliner's know what that means... it's time for some February flashbacks!
Here goes...
A couple of February's ago, I was just enjoying all the time in the world with my little gal.
And this February, she and I are THRILLED to spend our days loving on our new little guy!
It was last February that Marc and I made our first call to the agency to inquire about adopting again.
And this February? Oh my. Our hearts are so full.
Last February, this gal would pray with us just about every night that God would send us just the right birthmommy at just the right time. At that point, she wanted a brother and a sister. :)
And this February? He has answered her sweet little prayers. (with just a brother, but nobody around here is complaining!) :)
I couldn't fathom God's goodness to me five Februarys ago.
And I'm still trying to wrap my head around it today.
Here goes...
A couple of February's ago, I was just enjoying all the time in the world with my little gal.
And this February, she and I are THRILLED to spend our days loving on our new little guy!
It was last February that Marc and I made our first call to the agency to inquire about adopting again.
And this February? Oh my. Our hearts are so full.
Last February, this gal would pray with us just about every night that God would send us just the right birthmommy at just the right time. At that point, she wanted a brother and a sister. :)
And this February? He has answered her sweet little prayers. (with just a brother, but nobody around here is complaining!) :)
I couldn't fathom God's goodness to me five Februarys ago.
And I'm still trying to wrap my head around it today.
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Thursday, January 31, 2013
sigh...
I've noticed the pangs of my daughter's baldness creeping into my heart again lately.
Sigh.
I see the long, flowing hair of her peers, glistening in the sunlight. I see the bows. The braids. The styles. I see thick, full eyebrows and eyelashes adorning their faces, completely symmetrical and untouched by the Fall.
And I find myself wanting that for my daughter again, too.
Their hair grows and thickens. Her head remains slick and bare.
She loves to brush my hair when it's wet. She puts clips and bows in it. Occasionally she'll tell me she wishes she had hair.
But it's more of a passing thought for her. Right now, at least.
I suppose that's how it will be for me as well.
Just as a boisterous pregnancy announcement can spring forth the past pain of my infertility, there will be other triggers that cause me to grieve my daughter's alopecia. I know it will only be for a time, until my heart is able to find rest again in His purposes.
But there will always be those times, won't there?
Sigh.
It's a rather strange thing to watch my son's hair thinning out in the places where he naps. A patch in the back, a stripe along both sides from all the positions in which he likes to lay. But what is a completely normal milestone for a baby holds sadness for me. It reminds me of a time when her head was slowly being stripped bare.
And it never came back.
Don't get me wrong- I don't fear alopecia for Jameson. (boy, wouldn't that be a crazy providence...) But as I'm learning and reading up on how to care for his hair type, it reminds me that I don't get to do that for hers. And today, at least, that makes me sad.
I wish I could take my daughter to her first swim lesson and not be pulled aside to be asked if she has any medical concerns or if they should give her resting breaks.
I wish I could have gone to that nice restaurant without having the entire staff sign their names across a box with a rather nice present inside just for her. Deep down, I wonder when she'll catch on they're doing that because they think she's sick and dying.
I wish I could think about schools for kindergarten without fear of how the kids (or teachers) will react to alopecia.
But it is what it is, I suppose.
It's what I've been hand-chosen to confront for the rest of my daughter's life.
Tomorrow I'll get back into the Mama Bear mode. And I'll embrace the fight on her behalf once again. I'll remind myself of all the truths I have been privileged to see and learn through alopecia.
It'll be okay.
But today?
Sigh.
Sigh.
I see the long, flowing hair of her peers, glistening in the sunlight. I see the bows. The braids. The styles. I see thick, full eyebrows and eyelashes adorning their faces, completely symmetrical and untouched by the Fall.
And I find myself wanting that for my daughter again, too.
Their hair grows and thickens. Her head remains slick and bare.
She loves to brush my hair when it's wet. She puts clips and bows in it. Occasionally she'll tell me she wishes she had hair.
But it's more of a passing thought for her. Right now, at least.
I suppose that's how it will be for me as well.
Just as a boisterous pregnancy announcement can spring forth the past pain of my infertility, there will be other triggers that cause me to grieve my daughter's alopecia. I know it will only be for a time, until my heart is able to find rest again in His purposes.
But there will always be those times, won't there?
Sigh.
It's a rather strange thing to watch my son's hair thinning out in the places where he naps. A patch in the back, a stripe along both sides from all the positions in which he likes to lay. But what is a completely normal milestone for a baby holds sadness for me. It reminds me of a time when her head was slowly being stripped bare.
And it never came back.
Don't get me wrong- I don't fear alopecia for Jameson. (boy, wouldn't that be a crazy providence...) But as I'm learning and reading up on how to care for his hair type, it reminds me that I don't get to do that for hers. And today, at least, that makes me sad.
I wish I could take my daughter to her first swim lesson and not be pulled aside to be asked if she has any medical concerns or if they should give her resting breaks.
I wish I could have gone to that nice restaurant without having the entire staff sign their names across a box with a rather nice present inside just for her. Deep down, I wonder when she'll catch on they're doing that because they think she's sick and dying.
I wish I could think about schools for kindergarten without fear of how the kids (or teachers) will react to alopecia.
But it is what it is, I suppose.
It's what I've been hand-chosen to confront for the rest of my daughter's life.
Tomorrow I'll get back into the Mama Bear mode. And I'll embrace the fight on her behalf once again. I'll remind myself of all the truths I have been privileged to see and learn through alopecia.
It'll be okay.
But today?
Sigh.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
fresh air...
A day of unusually warm temperatures.
First time at the park.
First time feeling the wind blow across his body.
First time seeing a dog.
Holding his head up so high.
Taking it all in.
We LOVE him.
Ahhh, fresh air...
First time at the park.
First time feeling the wind blow across his body.
First time seeing a dog.
Holding his head up so high.
Taking it all in.
We LOVE him.
Ahhh, fresh air...
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
love abounds...
Love abounds here.
Yes, our family is as dysfunctional as the next.
And the stresses of life can weigh heavy upon our shoulders.
Things are broken. Our students are hurting. Our loved ones are aging.
But Love still abounds here.
Sleep may be hard to come by.
And the children aren't the only ones who have the melt-downs.
but Love continues to abound.
A love note left in the fridge.
And a love note from my daughter.
("I love you so much. I love you this much
2898788560190125810150128950
Is that too much
Well that's how much I love you
Bye
Love,
CC")
Words from the outside.
Reminding me of what is true.
Because even though I may not feel it, Love is present.
Ever abounding.
Often we question what the other is doing.
As if we forget we are on the same team.
We'd rather be left alone.
Or we feel like we're not getting through.
But always, we are secure in His care.
Though we feel tossed about, we find our rest in Him.
Both in the chaotic and the quiet,
He is faithful to lavish us with grace, peace, love, and ultimately Himself.
He gives us Words from the outside.
Page after page of them.
Reminding us of what is true, indeed.
And it is out of that Love, we can always say...
Love abounds here.
Yes, our family is as dysfunctional as the next.
And the stresses of life can weigh heavy upon our shoulders.
Things are broken. Our students are hurting. Our loved ones are aging.
But Love still abounds here.
Sleep may be hard to come by.
And the children aren't the only ones who have the melt-downs.
but Love continues to abound.
A love note left in the fridge.
And a love note from my daughter.
("I love you so much. I love you this much
2898788560190125810150128950
Is that too much
Well that's how much I love you
Bye
Love,
CC")
Words from the outside.
Reminding me of what is true.
Because even though I may not feel it, Love is present.
Ever abounding.
Often we question what the other is doing.
As if we forget we are on the same team.
We'd rather be left alone.
Or we feel like we're not getting through.
But always, we are secure in His care.
Though we feel tossed about, we find our rest in Him.
Both in the chaotic and the quiet,
He is faithful to lavish us with grace, peace, love, and ultimately Himself.
He gives us Words from the outside.
Page after page of them.
Reminding us of what is true, indeed.
And it is out of that Love, we can always say...
Love abounds here.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
what a week...
Wasn't much time to blog this past week. Here's why...
I was too busy loving on and kissing this little bundle of sweetness.
Oh, I could gobble him up.
We were enamored with all the new smiles and coos. I swear, he is on the verge of laughing.
And we're ready for it.
Big sis was soooo excited to start swim lessons.
I don't think she stopped smiling the whole time.
Our student from Haiti, Jean, came over for dinner and got to meet Jameson! We are loving learning more about Jameson's Haitian heritage.
This week we watched as he finally reciprocated his sisters smiles.
We also took a quick overnight trip out to Norfolk so Daddy could speak at a missions conference, and Caroline got to feed chickens at our host family's house! SO fun!!
(We even got to take some fresh eggs home! Thank you, Mrs. Tori, and Gladys the chicken!)
More smiles... this boy is making fans by the minute...
Tummy time. We've got to show him what everything feels like, you understand.
We visited with out-of-town friends who brought a box of baby boy clothes, including SLIPPERS!
What a week.
And what a guy.
I was too busy loving on and kissing this little bundle of sweetness.
Oh, I could gobble him up.
We were enamored with all the new smiles and coos. I swear, he is on the verge of laughing.
And we're ready for it.
Big sis was soooo excited to start swim lessons.
I don't think she stopped smiling the whole time.
Our student from Haiti, Jean, came over for dinner and got to meet Jameson! We are loving learning more about Jameson's Haitian heritage.
This week we watched as he finally reciprocated his sisters smiles.
We also took a quick overnight trip out to Norfolk so Daddy could speak at a missions conference, and Caroline got to feed chickens at our host family's house! SO fun!!
(We even got to take some fresh eggs home! Thank you, Mrs. Tori, and Gladys the chicken!)
More smiles... this boy is making fans by the minute...
Tummy time. We've got to show him what everything feels like, you understand.
We visited with out-of-town friends who brought a box of baby boy clothes, including SLIPPERS!
What a week.
And what a guy.
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