Oh Jesus!

A couple of months ago, Jackson and I were driving home and I heard him exclaim, "Oh Jesus!" I wasn't sure what he was trying to communicate. He said it so explosively I was kind of wondering if he had heard someone else using the Lord's name in vain and was just copying them. I asked him why he said "Oh Jesus," but he really didn't have a cogent explanation for me.

Then a few days later, we were driving home again and I heard him shout it again. "Oh! Jesus! Jesus!" This time I looked back to see him gazing out the window and pointing. I personally didn't see any hint of Jesus, but I remembered hearing that little children sometimes had a heightened spiritual awareness. I started wondering if my boy had been seeing visions of the risen Christ that I was missing out on because of my jaded sensibilities. That led to dreaming of what kind of prophetic gifts Jackson might have that would impact the world. So I thought I would be like Mary, mother of Jesus, and "treasure up all these things and ponder them in my heart." When we got home, I told Ian what had happened, that twice we had been driving and Jackson shouted out "Oh Jesus!" He had a bemused look on his face and said that it had happened when he was driving with Jackson also. Then he asked me if it occurred on San Vicente just past Wilshire. Why, yes, that's exactly where we were both times it occurred. Hmm, we both wondered.

A few days later, I came home after Ian had picked up Jackson. He had a huge grin on his face. He told me that he had figured out why Jackson had been shouting out about Jesus. It turns out there is a statue on the side of the street that neither of us had noticed. And to be quite honest, the statue looks quite a bit like the Jesus we see in the Bible picture books that we have been reading to Jackson at night.


Apparently, even a green man with a beard and longish hair can pass for Jesus in toddler world.

Clarice

New Haircut

Jackson's hair has been really, really slow to grow. He didn't have his first haircut until he was 14 months old. And that was just two little snips of the bilateral locks that were making him look a little bit like a Hassidic Jew (except for the part where he doesn't look Jewish at all). The next two haircuts were spaced 5 months apart and only took place because the hair on the back of his head would be nappy and tangled in the morning when he woke up. So for the past month, we'd been contemplating doing the Chinese thing. In China, they crop the hair of the little kiddies (even the little girls) so that they're cooler in the summer, but also to stimulate new hair growth. And some midwesterners we know follow the Farmer's Almanac to determine periods of time when haircuts will also accelerate new hair growth (hey there, Bob and Lis!!).

It turned out to be an easy haircut. We just got out the clippers, put in the number 3 guard and buzzed away. Of course, I did the pediatric dentist "tell-show-do" thing. I told him about the clippers. I showed him how tickly it was on his arm. And then I did it. And of course, we planned other distractions. He was sitting on his potty chair in front of a mirror, set up with his favorite book set (from great-Aunt Linda, thank you!!). He still cried most of the time I was cutting. It's all documented on miniDV, courtesy of his documentarian daddy. But when I was all done, he agreed with me that he looked very "han-sum".

Nesting

I had heard about nesting when I was pregnant with Jackson. One website I visited defines it as "an uncontrollable urge to clean one's house brought on by a desire to prepare a nest for the new baby, to tie up loose ends of old projects and to organize your world". I don't recall experiencing that at all when I was pregnant with Jackson. But then again, I was focusing on tying up loose ends at work so that I could be home for 3 months.

But Monday, the nesting instinct hit hard. I had brought home lots of work to do once Jackson fell asleep, since Ian was working that night. I had grades to enter for last quarter, a new quarter to plan for, a homework assignment for a class I'm taking. But none of that mattered that night. We had bought a new "big boy bed" for Jackson and I was bound and determined to rearrange his room to accommodate the new bed. As soon as we got home, I spent an hour sweeping and dusting his room. Then I threw together a not-too-nutritious but quick meal for us, bathed him, and tried to get him to join me in rearranging his furniture (not too successful). I was so determined to finish the task that night that I kept working after his lights out, using the dim glow of the hallway light to illuminate my work. He managed to fall asleep an hour later than normal as I worked around him. And finally, after four hours of toil, I was satisfied.

It was a rather alarming feeling. I really couldn't think of anything else but finishing up his room. Nothing could deter me...not dinner or even his bedtime. Whatever I've read about nesting indicates that it's an instinct. And, wow, what a powerful one. At least by Tuesday, I finally felt ready to return to my required work....although I never finished that homework assignment.

Anyone else have any crazy nesting stories?

Clarice

Boogers

We are realizing that we can track Jackson's developmental milestones (and social awareness) through his response to boogers.

For his first year and a half of life, he was pretty clueless about the presence of nasal emissions of any sort. Case in point, this video clip from when he was 17 months old:



Then around 20 months of age, he suddenly became aware of his boogers...especially the runnier variety. If he sneezed out an abundance of snot, he would cry. But he wouldn't do anything about it. Well, that's not true. Occasionally, he'd unintentionally smear it all over his hands and face. Or he would burrow into our shoulders, leaving some interesting remnants on our clothing (the mark of parenthood...at least it's not spitup any more).

Then around the 22 month mark, he started showing some initiative at taking care of snot, at least. If he sneezed, he would say "Iwan kleenex. Iwan tissue. Iwan blow de nose." And we'd know to help him wipe off the offending fluid.

Now at 25 months, he's officially entered into familiar toddler realm. He can clearly discern between the wet stuff and the dry stuff. The other day, as we were driving, I noticed a prolonged break in his normal commentary about the same sights we see every day on the way home. He was clearly concentrating on something. Then he piped up from his carseat in back, "Mommy, look! A booger!" He held out his finger for me to see (you wouldn't believe how large some of these things can get, coming from such small individuals). I asked him if he needed a tissue and started scrounging around the car for a scrap of paper while trying to navigate the streets of Beverly Hills. Then I heard his triumphal declaration, "I eat it!!" Sure enough, his finger was clean as a whistle. Well, I guess that's better than having it inadvertently wiped on me.

Clarice

Easter in the Holy Land

I recently got hired on a movie that was shooting in Jordan. That's right, the middle east. When I realized I was going to be away from home for Easter, my initial thought was "how inconvenient."

That's until I realized that Jordan is home to many locations in the Holy Land. The Israelites traveled from Egypt to the Promised Land through Jordan. Jesus was baptized in Jordan.

Suddenly, the reality of spending Easter in the Holy Land hit me. How cool is that?! And even better, there were a handful of Christ-followers on the crew and "lo and behold"an ancient Olive grove just below our hotel in Petra.

So, five of us had an awesome church experience reading through the four Gospel accounts of Easter and marveling at God's work throughout history. Where two or more are gathered in His Name, God the Holy Spirit is there with us. It was a really awesome experience.

God is good. All the time. He is risen indeed!
Ian

P.S. Check back soon for a picture of us in the Olive grove.

He's Risen Indeed!

It's Easter today. Well, actually, it's almost over, but I still want to commemorate the event. I blogged a few weeks ago about how I usually like to try to prepare my heart and mind to celebrate Easter because I think it's such a significant event. To be quite honest, I ended giving up on my fast. It wasn't realistic because it actually put a burden on Ian for me to keep an 11:00 PM bedtime. I think next year I'll have to pick something more realistic that will come with more consistent reminders of the meaning of sacrifice (but we're going to try for an 11:00 PM bedtime anyway just as a good habit). At any rate, I had a hard time focusing on the arrival of Easter this year. Maybe it was because it came earlier in the year than it usually does or maybe it was because Ian and I have been alternating being either really busy or really sick.

So Good Friday came and went and I didn't really think much about it. But on Saturday afternoon I read a post by my dear friend Faetryn and remembered beyond Easter. Her post reminded me that on that fateful Friday, there was pain and suffering. I had been thinking a bit about the brutality of the punishments of those days. See, Ian is working on a movie that involves the stoning of an individual. He'd been telling me about the emotional impact and the brutality of just pretending or making it seem like the punishment is real for the sake of a movie. And the reality of Christ's suffering started to sink in.

Thus I went to church this morning for Easter Sunday thinking about the reality of Jesus' pain and suffering on our behalf. But our site pastor, Goodie, spoke on "Beauty." I missed the complete content of the message because there wasn't child care for the service I attended and Jackson isn't so good at sitting still or keeping quiet, keeping me on my toes the entire message. But I saw the video I've posted below (because Jackson loves "TV" and watched as intently as I did). The piece was accompanied by a live string ensemble and followed by a live dance piece. And it spoke to me, as it has every time I've seen it. It reminded me of the love that Jesus' sacrifice demonstrated and the beauty it embodied. I guess that's why I'm not so into the crucifixes that have Jesus hanging on them. I much prefer the simple cross adornment. Because, sure, Jesus suffered and died to pay the penalty for humankind's penchant for making the destructive choices that separate us from a perfect and holy God. But He didn't stay dead, so I don't want to just focus on that. He rose to life on the third day, demonstrating His power over sin AND death, offering us the opportunity to reconcile with Him...and to live beautiful lives.

He is risen indeed!



Clarice

A really, really good day

February and most of March were really, really hard. For some reason, our budget broke down and we had to tap deeply into our emergency savings fund. I had a ton of work deadlines that came with some seriously high expectations. The workload was bad enough that I dragged my computer along with me on our anniversary trip. I spent most of the drive and the first few hours in the hotel working on one of my projects so that we could enjoy the rest of our weekend without interruption. And for whatever reason during that busy period, Ian had activities several nights a week that left me alone with Jackson's night-time routine (and, of course, no time to work). Then when my deadlines were mostly met, Ian got super busy. He went into pre-production on two different short films, one of which took him out of town the day after I came down with a wicked illness that took me out of work for a few days due to fever, chills, body aches. Being alone with Jackson for two days meant I gave him whatever I had, which was multiplied to four days of fever, restless nights, loss of appetite, and diarrhea. In the midst of all that, Ian started to think that a big job that was supposed to come through in April wasn't going to happen AND he got called to go to Jordan (as in the Middle East) with two days notice for a really great work opportunity (that would keep him there for two and a half weeks).

So here I was a couple of Mondays ago, pregnant (with occasional lingering bouts of nausea), sleep-deprived from pushing toward work-deadlines, post-flu, caring for a mid-flu toddler (who can't go to daycare), thinking about sending my husband away for two and a half weeks. I was thinking that it was a really, really bad time of life. And I prayed for some type of divine intervention. Then Tuesday morning came. I had taken Jackson to class with me since he still had a fever and couldn't go to daycare. He was sitting there talking REALLY loudly while my students were trying to make their end of the quarter final presentations. Ian walked in to pick up Jackson. He had a big grin on his face. He told me that his two and a half week trip to Jordan had been postponed for a week (and shortened) and that the job he thought he had lost was now confirmed to start after he was scheduled to return from Jordan. Suddenly, I was thinking that it was a really, really good day. A little grace - a job that will probably pay quite well for Ian (with what sounds like a reasonable schedule). A little mercy - the postponement and shortening of his out of town gig. Amazing what the two combined can do to your spirit. Oh, and then that evening I got an email from a colleague praising one of the projects I had been working on. Grace upon grace.

Things have still been quite hectic. But all I needed was one day with a little grace and a little mercy just to change my perspective on things. And so the days since then haven't necessarily been really, really good, but they sure haven't felt as bad as I might have thought without a reminder that God is gracious and merciful and certainly willing to intervene.

Clarice

Exposure (and link madness)

Last week I was browsing one of my favorite websites, Townhall.com, on one of my daily visits to stimulate my thinking. If you're not familiar, this site features some of the smartest minds and sharpest writers on politics and culture. I usually don't pay much attention to the ads, but something familiar caught my eye. It was the ad to the left. I was tickled to see it. Here I am at one of my favorite websites - one that has national readership (my sister-in-law in Atlanta is a regular visitor also) - and this ad pops up. It's a DVD featuring 3 different short films made by my church. Each has a commentary by my pastor, Erwin McManus. One short film was directed a friend I used to be in small group with, who filmed the video showed at our wedding. Click here. One short film was produced by my old roommate, who was my maid of honor at our wedding. Click here. And the third was produced by my husband. Click here and here.

National exposure! Yeah!! Check it out!

Clarice

Lenten Letdown

I really didn't grow up with a whole lot of religious ceremonies (sacraments?). The church I grew up in pretty much stuck only to baptism and the Lord's Supper or communion as significant sacraments. In early 2001 I started living in an amazing community with 3 other women (an experience I keep meaning to blog about). One or two of these women grew up (or perhaps adopted in adulthood) observing some type of fast over the Lenten period between Mardi Gras/Ash Wednesday and Easter. I don't remember paying much attention to the fast the first year. Like I said, I didn't grow up with an emphasis on religious traditions. But they approached it in such a low key and earnest way. By year two or three, I think all 4 of us usually made commitments to fast from something. It just seemed like a great idea. I love Easter. Christmas is special, but it often gets buried in the trappings of commercialism. I mean, it is an amazing holiday - the celebration of the fact that the Creator of the universe left the glory of heaven, came to earth in the form of an infant, and tolerated life on this earth as a human for 33 years. That's pretty amazing. But Easter really gets me. For Jesus to willingly endure the pain and suffering and shame of crucifixion out of a love for mankind...that's really something. And then to demonstrate the authority to reconcile man's broken relationship with God through death by rising to life on the third day...whew!

As long as I have been calling myself a follower of Jesus, I've been trying to prepare myself to earnestly and reverentially remember Easter. And so the idea inspired by my roommates to fast for 40 days to prepare for Easter was appealing. What better way of trying to remind myself of Jesus' sacrifice than giving up something my body or mind craves. I mean, it wasn't ever so dramatic as giving up food and water or...life. It was usually much simpler. I can't remember exactly what I've given up over the years, but I think once it was alcohol (that was pretty easy), once it was all caffeine products AND soda (that was much harder), another time it was gossip or criticism (very hard), another time it was giving up reading any type of blogs (can you tell what I crave sometimes?). It was always hardest in the beginning, but very beneficial in reminding me that I wanted to spend some time focusing on Jesus. But by the end of the fasting period, I felt like I not only had a chance to focus on sacrifice, but I had a better control on my cravings.

So this year, after a brief break from celebrating Lent, I decided to reinstate my 40 day fast. I chose a very unconventional fast. I gave up late nights. Meaning, I committed to being in bed by 11:00 PM. Perhaps it seems like an easy thing to many people, but I am a SERIOUS night owl. If I had my druthers, the work day would be 10 AM to 6 PM and I would sleep from 1 or 2 AM to 8 or 9 AM. My mind is just sharpest around 10 PM (with an earlier burst of productivity at the end of the workday from 4-6 PM). So being in bed by 11 PM is quite a challenge, even with a kid who wakes up bright and cheery at 7 AM. And let me tell you, it's been the worst fast I've ever tried to commit to. In the 4 weeks since Ash Wednesday, I've only made my goal around 5 times. Honestly, I just gave up the past week. I'm kinda all of all-or-nothing. If I can't nail close to 100%, why bother.

But I'm thinking of starting all over again. I've realized that the failure to stick to this fast reveals something about myself. I'm just not willing to make the lifestyle changes to adopt an early bedtime. My body and mind crave the college student schedule, but really, my family and my work commitments (and the daycare schedule) demand that I give it up. And it's not like I'm up late being productive. Here it is T minus 38 minutes and I still have a bit of work I should do, plus fold the two loads of laundry that my husband graciously started before I got home from work, plus get ready for bed, plus try to spend a bit of time focusing on some Scripture... Ain't going to happen. I'd rather blog or read blogs or do something really non-urgent like try to figure out what to name our next kid or decide on what video clip I should post to YouTube. These things just don't have to be done now.

So I think I'm going to start again. Maybe tomorrow, exactly 4 weeks after Ash Wednesday. Or maybe the next day. I guess I have to check with Ian, since this impacts him. At any rate, I know without a doubt that I need to make some sacrifices in the way I would prefer to spend my time to prioritize the people and the One I should be most committed to.

Clarice

Jackson's First Sporting Event

Ian got some free tickets to a Clipper game last Wednesday. I had never been to a professional basketball game (nor football, nor hockey, although I've seen professional soccer and baseball - Angels, Dodgers, AND Red Sox). We thought it might be a fun thing to try for the first time. We tried to think of some babysitting options for Jackson, but then it was Monday and we hadn't planned anything yet. So we figured, hey, kids under the age of 3 are free; we should just bring him (note the use of the now-obscure semi-colon). So we got to the Staples Center a bit early and before ascending to our seats in the nosebleed section, we bought some huge hot dogs to eat for dinner (don't tell my OB/GYN I consumed nitrates). Jackson loves hot dogs ("I like hot doggies").

It turned out that Jackson had the most fun of the three of us. For the first half of the first quarter (would that be the first eighth?) he couldn't even pay attention to his beloved hot dog. He was having such a fun time cheering when the other fans would cheer and clapping along to the incessant music that was playing (thankfully not on the organ the whole time). We don't think he had any clue about what was going on miles away down on the court, but he sure sensed the excitement in the arena. Once he had enough of the music and the cheering, he started watching the two boys seated behind us. They looked to be about 8 or 9. Jackson kept on waving to them and saying "Hi, little boys". He started copying what they were doing. Fortunately, he had finished his hot dog by this time.

Then for the second quarter, he discovered the stairs up the arena. He kept climbing up and down and saying "hi" to all the people he encountered. He made quite a few acquaintances.

But then he got bored and it was getting close to his bedtime, so we left at the beginning of the second half. I have no idea what happened in the game. I think the Clippers were playing the Memphis Grizzlies (are there grizzlies in Memphis?). I think I saw a couple of 3-pointers and a few steals and one really cool fake-out lay-up. But most of the time, I just enjoyed watching Jackson enjoy his new experience. It will be great when he actually understands what's happening down on the court (or field or diamond). Now I just have to find out who actually won the game we were supposed to see while we were watching Jackson.

Clarice

Update on Bright Flower

A few weeks ago, we blogged about the outcome of one of our prenatal test results. There was an indication of a higher than acceptable possibility that Bright Flower might have a chromosomal abnormality. It was rather alarming considering the huge difference between the estimated risk factor of our test and the norm. But over the past few weeks, we have been confidant that our Creator knows what's best for our family, and we have been optimistic that the baby would be okay (99.3% is pretty good).

So on Tuesday, we had an ultrasound. The doctor ordered one a bit earlier than normal because he wanted to know if there were any signs of the "stigmata" associated with the two chromosomal abnormalities in which we tested high. The ultrasound technician looked at everything that might be affected by the disorder. She found normal heart, abdominal wall, limbs, digits, cranial vault, palate and lip (which I was worried about), ears. Everything checked out. I don't think I realized how anxious I was until I realized how relieved I was to hear a good report from the technician. We know there's always a possibility that something else might happen along the way, but for now, we are so thankful for this report. And we thank you for your encouragement, support, and prayers.

Oh, I almost forgot. The ultrasound technician also took a visual tour of the...uh...gender-defining area of Bright Flower. What she said indicated that Bright Flower won't have to change her womb name. She's a she!!

Here she is in all her prenatal glory!

Little Performer

We're starting to realize just what a little performer our boy can be. Jackson has a few pairs of pants that don't fit too well. This is his loosest pair.


So when I went to pick him up from daycare the last time he wore these pants, his teacher had a story to tell me. She told me that during circle time they were singing "Five Little Monkeys", but instead of singing "monkeys", they were substituting the names of each child and having them jump up and down. When it was Jackson's turn they started singing "five little Jacksons, jumping on the bed..." Well as Jackson was jumping up and down his pants started falling down. The teacher said that the rest of the kids started laughing when they saw that. So Jackson stopped for a moment, enjoying the laughter, then started jumping up and down even faster until his pants reached his ankles. I wonder which of his parents Jackson got the performing bug from....

And if you needed more evidence of his ken for performing, here's a little clip of Jackson performing portions of his favorite songs for the camera.



And the tricks that earn the affections of our friends, his repertoire of facial expressions.



More little clips can be found on our newly started family YouTube site

Clarice

Banking on the 97.5%

I got a rather alarming phone call from my Obstetrician a few weeks ago. I knew it was rather important because he left messages at our home twice on a Saturday, then left one on my cell phone. We played a bit of phone tag on Saturday night, then I was left wondering. When you're expecting a child at my age (it's a big number I won't publicly claim, but if you broke it down into prime numbers it would be a multiple of 2's and 5's, but not too many 5's) you prepare yourself for the possibility that your child's health and/or development might be compromised. So Saturday night I pondered things and morbidly hoped that my obstetrician was actually calling because one of his kids, who are my pediatric dental patients, had some kind of dental emergency that he needed advice on.

Sunday morning Jackson was sick, so I stayed home from church with him. That's when my OB got through on my cell phone. He told me that one of my blood tests showed some abnormalities. I had just given up a few drops of blood for the first trimester screening, in which they measure protein levels that are markers for chromosomal abnormalities in the baby. He told me that the markers for Down syndrome were well within normal limits, but that another marker, which is correlated with Trisomies 13 & 18 (meaning an extra copy of either of those chromosomes) was in the unacceptable range. He told me that the normal incidence of either of these abnormalities was usually 1 in 20,000, but that my protein levels were elevated, lowering the risk factor to 1 in 39. When he said that, I felt a shock pass through me. I know a bit about various pediatric syndromes, being in the business of caring for children. I remembered that both of these syndromes had a high mortality rate, with most infants dying within the first few months of life. He kept talking about something else that did not register because I was processing my thoughts. Strangely, I remember feeling a bit of peace. Honestly, I was thinking that I was glad it was a syndrome in which our child might not have to live too long with disability. I was thinking that Ian and I might have it in us to love our little one for a short time before letting him/her go. I was thinking that it might be easier than a syndrome that would affect our child for a normal lifespan.

Then my OB's voice faded back in again. See I was thinking that going from 1 in 20,000 to 1 in 39 meant it was almost a done deal. But he broke it down into percentage risk. The percentage risk was 2.5%. And my spirits lifted. That meant that there was a 97.5% chance that Bright Flower would be okay after all. It was still hard telling Ian what the OB had told me. To learn more, we looked on the internet. The National Institutes of Health website had some good objective information about both syndromes, none of it looking very promising. We also ended up looking at two websites that were support groups for families of children with these abnormalities. The sites were most likely sponsored by Christian families who had decided not to terminate their pregnancies, instead talking about the joy they experienced in the short time they had with their babies before they died. Their stories were quite inspiring and exceedingly moving. I had to quit looking at those sites pretty quickly.

Getting this news has been rather life-changing, to say the least. We've been moved to more fervent prayer for our unborn child and have learned to be proactive in asking for the prayers of trusted friends. And we've had to recommit ourselves to our theoretical convictions about the value of life, now that reality has entered our lives. We've come to the realization that we really don't have much control over a lot of the circumstances of our lives. And we've had to confirm our convictions that it's not up to us to decide when someone else's life should end.

So this is where Ian and I have been the past few weeks, banking on the 97.5% chance that everything will be okay. During that first call from my OB, we were encouraged to see a genetic counselor. Ian and I decided that even though we didn't have any intention of terminating this pregnancy, it might be worth it to learn as much as we could so that we would be prepared for whatever might come. So on Friday we visited the counselor. She had accessed my lab results and asked if we wanted to go over them again, even though my OB had already talked about it. I figured it wouldn't hurt, since Ian didn't get to hear the direct conversation with my OB. So she started from the beginning of the report, confirming the low risk of Down syndrome and the elevated risk of trisomy 13 or 18. Then she got to the risk factor and we got the best news of the week. She was talking about how the cutoff risk level for trisomy 13/18 was normally 1 in 150 and that our risk was now 1 in 139, which wasn't too far off.... We had to stop her right there and then, because we had been operating on the assumption that it was 1 in 39. So she showed us the numbers again. Somehow, our initial information wasn't accurate and the odds were actually better than 2.5%. Whatever happened in the intervening 3 weeks, we had the great news that we aren't just banking on 97.5%, but instead on 99.3%.

We realize that there is no guarantee that Bright Flower is going to be totally okay. But we also realize that we trust in a good and merciful God and that no matter what happens, WE will be okay. So we continue to pray that He would bless us with a healthy child who we can raise to return thanks to the God who made him or her. And we ask for your prayers as well. Here's to 99.3%.

Clarice

Where's Jackson's ring?

Tonight as I was getting Jackson ready for his bath, he pointed at my hand and said "wing". It took me a minute to figure out that he was talking about my wedding ring. I said, "Yes, that's mommy's ring." So he pointed again and said "mommy's wing", then pointed out the door in Ian's general direction and said "daddy's wing". I thought it might be a nice teachable moment so I told him "mommy's ring means daddy loves mommy and daddy's ring means mommy loves daddy." So he pointed to his hand and asked "Where's Jackson's wing?" Ain't that precious?

Clarice

Cherry Milk

So Jackson's been sick this past week. It was bad enough that his pediatrician prescribed an antibiotic because she was detecting a sinus infection and possible ear infection. Ian and I had just been talking about the fact that he hadn't had an ear infection in about a year and we thought maybe we were out of the woods after the first 4 episodes between months 5 and 12. Not a good idea to gloat like that.... I was a bit worried about how we would get the medicine in his system. It was pretty easy up until 12 months. He didn't know what "no" meant yet. But now he's almost two and sometimes willful. I thought I would employ a pediatric dentist trick and try to make the medicine sound like a great thing. So I started talking about how we would have some "cherry milk" after dinner. Since he has positive feelings about both cherry flavor and milk, the stuff went down pretty easily. I guess it also helps that Jackson doesn't get much sugar (1 juice box and 2 pieces of chocolate in his life - poor son of a dentist) and these modern medicines are loaded with sweetness. So the next morning when we talked about "cherry milk", he got all excited and just slurped it down. Of course, the next day, in between doses, he looked at Ian and said "I want cherry milk. I want cherry milk." And Ian had to hold him off until the appointed time. So now we have just one more day of "cherry milk". I'm not quite sure what will happen when he doesn't get his morning and evening "treat" any more. Now if we could just figure out how to get him to think that the nebulizer treatments of albuterol are a great thing...

Clarice

Bright Flower

Hi, we're having another baby!

The first trimester is nearing an end, most of the extended family have been told and it's time to make a general announcement.

Do any of you pregnant parents have womb names? When we first found out about Jackson, we didn't really think of him as a tiny person until we saw his first ultrasound. Then after seeing him swim around with his eleven week paddles we just had to name him. But what? I've heard various terms of endearment for the little one-incher, such as Li'l Bean and Prawn. I think we waited until we knew the sex, then we named him in the tradition of John's in our family. Ian means John in Scottish (so if you're over there and have to use the bathroom, just ask for the Ian). There are actually over forty different ways to say John: Ivan, Ewan, Johan, Sean, Juan and...Juancho. Juancho rhymes with honcho and sounded manly to me. Juancho!!! Juancho-ho-ho!!! It stuck after playfully saying it with gusto a few times. Funny, though, that as soon as Jackson Timothy was born, we promptly forgot his womb name. He was no longer in the womb. Jackson after Ian and Ian's dad John and meaning "God is gracious." Timothy after Clarice's dad Timothy and meaning "to honor or fear God."

So now we have another one-incher. This time were hoping for a girl. It might not be a she but if it is we will naturally name her after the moms. Clarice's name means bright, illustrius and Ian's mom's name is Ivy while Clarice's mom's name is Pansy. Bright Flower. Which makes us Christian hippies, according to Clarice's brother. Bright Flower reflects the meanings of illuminating the fragrance of Jesus Christ (can you make a smell visible?), which is our wish for her.

If we have a boy we're not sure what we'll call him, but perhaps his womb name will be Strong Cedar.

Expectant, Part 2

Back in September, we blogged about being Expectant. We had been telling people that we were expecting in 10 or 11 months. Turns out we were right on the nose. So we can now officially update that expectant date from 10 to 11 months to 6 months from now.

Clarice

Conversational Gems

For the past two months or so, Jackson has been putting together words in an attempt to make sentences. He's getting better and better at communicating, but some of the earlier attempts were just precious. Here are some of my favorite moments.

"Another Book"

Jackson loves books. One afternoon I was sitting in the living room and he walked over and put one of his books in my lap. I took that to mean that he wanted to read, so I settled him in my lap and read through the book with him. As soon as I finished, he looked at me and said "anana book," meaning "another book". I saw one just a few feet away on the loveseat so I pointed it out to him and told him that if he brought me the other book I would read it to him. So he happily complied and we looked through "Cars, Trucks, and Trains". When we finished that book, he looked at me again and said "anana book." Since there weren't any more in the living room, I said "You can go to your room and bring me another book". He happily jumped off my lap again and starting prancing (those of you who have seen him "run" know what I'm talking about) off to his bedroom. The sound of prancing feet stopped abruptly and reversed. He peeked back at me and said, "It's dawk". I wasn't sure what "dawk" meant, so I peeked around the corner into his room to see that the light wasn't on. I didn't even know he knew the word "dark" yet. That was our first clue that he was going to start telling us about his needs and talking about abstract thoughts.

"There's a Blue Van"

Jackson's really into vehicles. Around two months ago, he started pointing out every single car on our way to and from home and saying "Oh! Car! Car! Car!" He must have learned "truck" from school because a few weeks later, he started saying "Oh! Twuck! Twuck! Twuck!". The declarations must come in threes for some reason. So one night we drove past a van and he said, "Oh! Twuck! Twuck!..." you get the idea. I thought, well now, if he knows the difference between cars and all trucks, it might be time to teach him the difference between trucks and vans. So I said, "No, that's a van." He repeated the word "van" under his breath a few times. And then a few blocks later, he said "Oh!" and pointed. Then he followed it up with a full sentence, "There's a blue van." I didn't know he knew "there's" or the color blue (now it's the only color he knows). I was fairly impressed, so I declared, "There's a blue van? You're so smart!" To which he made a sheepish face and said, "Noooo." I didn't want him to start so early on the whole fake modesty thing, so I said, "Yes. That was a good sentence. You're getting to be a smart boy." Again, he said, "Noooooo". "You're not smart?" I asked. "Nooooooo," again. So I double-checked his reponse system by asking, "Is your name Jackson?" Then came the reply, "Noooooo". Just being contrary, just like an almost two-year-old.

"For the Bible Tells Me So"

My parents got Jackson a book of hymns and children's Christian songs quite a while ago. There's a little strip of buttons where we can play the tune of the songs play while we read the lyrics. Jackson's favorite song is "Jesus Loves Me." We realized that when he started saying "Mommy, Daddy, Mommy, Daddy" to the tune of the song. Then about a month ago, he starting catching some of the syllables of the song. A couple weeks later, he started catching the lyrics, but dropped the melodies, making it a toddler spoken word version of "Jesus Loves Me." The tune or the lyrics would come up at random times. Last week we were with Ian's parents and realized it was time to start the bedtime process. We told Jackson, "It's time to get ready for bed now." He replied, "No. For the Bible tells me so." We didn't quite see the scriptural justification, but definitely laughed about it anyway.

Looking forward to (and also dreading) future conversations.

Clarice

Happy New Year!!

Wow! We whizzed through Christmas and New Year's Day without blogging. Hope you had a wonderful celebration of the birth of our Lord!!

Clarice

Family Picture

From November. All dressed up...better take a picture. But check out the look on Jackson's face. And that was the best of all three of us. Sigh.

Mine

We had our first parent-teacher meeting with Jackson's new teachers last month. It was a pretty encouraging meeting. They said that one of their favorite things about him was that he is always happy, no matter what he is doing. Apparently, some of the kids are only happy with certain activities, but just about anything can make our Jackson happy. The only thing that really gets him upset is sometimes not getting the food choices he wants....like fruit...for every course of every meal.

The teachers also mentioned that they were very impressed with his ability to focus. His primary teacher reported on how she once observed him stacking blocks and singing at the same time. She thought it was rare for a 20-month old to do that and was even more impressed that the hustle and bustle of other toddlers around him didn't distract him from his dual tasks. That description of focus didn't surprise Ian and myself. In the Gallup list of Strengths, I've been assessed with having a high level of Focus. We both thought he was demonstrating his mommy's tendency to be so single-minded that the world tunes out.

But the most interesting part of the meeting was when they expressed one of their concerns. The had observed that in the whole toddler "toy negotiation process" (ie what does a toddler do when another grabs the toy he is holding and proclaims "Mine!"?) Jackson had a tendency to just give up the toy. They wanted him to hang on and say, "I'm using that". Ian and I didn't get how that was a problem. After all, we eventually want him to learn how to be generous and sacrificial. Apparently, the teachers want the other children to learn that it's not okay to grab a toy out of someone else's hands. Plus, they saw that Jackson actually did get upset when he lost something that he was using and they didn't want him to be frustrated without a need to be. We weren't sure what we were supposed to do about that.

But, alas, it seems that just one month of human development has taken care of that particular "problem". Now Jackson has two favorite words (besides cat pee pee). "NO!" and "Mine!". And he is getting quite adept at fighting for what he wants (unless said perpetrators are named Alaina or Harper, then he's putty). Now we're going to have to figure out how and when to teach the concept of sharing. Ugh! I don't know that I've mastered that concept.

Clarice

Halloween Pictures

Okay, they're a few weeks after the fact. Ian and I decided to go ahead and celebrate Halloween. How often do you have an excuse to go knock on neighbors' doors and introduce yourselves without being thought weird. We met lots of neighbors.

Here's our trick-or-treater already grubbing on loot before we even left for our evening's festivities. It was Ian's idea to dress him up as a Jack(son)-O-Lantern.



And a family picture...


Jackson had so much fun knocking on neighbors' doors (which we don't normally allow). But he didn't know what to do with the candy everyone wanted to unload on him (because we normally don't allow that either).

Next year, Ian wants to dress him up as a Jack-alope. Poor kid. Fortunately, he won't be able to get mad at us for dressing him like this until he's at least 8. Six more years of mirth and mayhem.

Clarice

Cat Pee Pee

I don't quite know how it happened, but Jackson's left shoe has been reeking distinctly of the scent of cat urine for the past month or so. It's particularly pungent after his shoes get wet, which happens about once a week, when it's warm enough for him to go diving under the sprinklers at his daycare. So a couple of weeks ago, I had to complain out loud. "Jackson, why do your shoes smell like cat pee pee?" He spent the next 15 minutes or so walking around the house saying, "cat pee pee...cat pee pee...cat pee pee." He's never parroted a phrase repeatedly before. And the few other times I've complained of the recurrent odor out loud, he's picked up the chant quite readily. I have no idea why he likes that phrase so much. And I don't know why it cracks me up so much that he'll walk around the house repeating it over and over. So easily entertained.

Clarice

Afternoon Moon

Have you noticed the moon the past couple of weeks? Not the shape, but the time of its appearance in the eastern sky. It's appeared as early as 4:00 PM, while the sun is shining at least 65% (my guesstimate) of its noontime intensity.

Actually, I should be clear. Jackson was the one who first noticed the moon. He has been learning a lot of words lately. Around a month ago, his favorite pictures to point out were those illustrating the moon, the stars, the sun, and the clouds. It was cute to hear him fumbling about learning the differences between those words. One evening we pointed out the full moon and he called it the sun. No matter how many times we corrected him, he kept calling it the sun. I guess he hadn't really seen the sun directly, only in pictures, and most moons are depicted in illustrations as being half-crescents.

So a couple of weeks ago, as we were driving home from work around 4:30, he shouted out "Moon! A moon! I see moon!" I replied something like "Oh, you see a moon? Are you sure? The moon only wakes up at night-time." I thought he was probably confused again, since he was still learning those words and it was far too bright for the moon to make its appearance. And that was that. A few late afternoons later, he pointed again and said "Moon! Moon!" This time I looked where he was pointing and durned if it weren't the moon shining faintly over the horizon.

I pondered it a bit more the rest of the drive and realized that my little boy had taught me yet another lesson. I was convinced he was wrong about the moon. After all, I know that that moon belongs to the night. What place does it have appearing during the day, when the sun reigns? But Jackson doesn't know all these things. He just knows what he sees. And that hasn't yet been colored by his expectations about what he should see.

"Structure must always submit to Spirit." That's how my church phrases it. Sure, God's character is unchanging, but the times change and cultures change. Thus, the church and God's people must also be willing to change in order to engage the people God longs to bring back into relationship with Himself. I sometimes forget that. I see things the way I'm used to seeing things or the way I expect to see them and forget to look for different ways of seeing God or people or circumstances. Then little things like this happen and I am reminded again that I shouldn't rule things out. I need to remember to look with fresh eyes and see if there's something new and unexpected on the horizon.

Clarice

Bella

Have you heard about this movie? My pastor has mentioned it in church twice after having met with the filmmakers. After viewing the website I've learned that the filmmakers wanted to promote a life-affirming message. The conservative blogosphere is excited also. The townhall.com home page had two columns about it. Click here and here to read. Another one here added on 10/26.

It's opening this weekend with a limited release. Here's to hoping it will gain some traction at the box office. Ian and I are going to try to see it on Saturday. Any babysitters available?

Clarice

With a rebel yell...Revisited

Remember this from August 2006?


Well add a year, a cool new haircut (and some hair to necessitate the haircut), replace the toothbrush with a microphone, and you got Jackson doing a pretty good impression of Billy Idol


Or you can enjoy his impersonation of PeeWee Herman (You don't want to get mixed up with a guy like me. I'm a loner, Dottie, a rebel.)


That's our animated boy!

Clarice

Tenacious Bee

I have so many (potentially) blogworthy thoughts in my head. But the mental rough drafts for each are very long and would require a considerable amount of writing skill to pull off successfully. I keep thinking I ought to just sit down and start one of these long, self-aggrandizing posts. Instead, my mind keeps returning to something I saw this morning.

As I was getting into my car this morning, I saw a bee on the roof of my car. I don't like bees (because I was stung once) so I blew on him (of course he's a he) to agitate him enough to fly off. He didn't fly off. Instead, he hunkered down a bit more on the fabric of my ragtop and gave a little listless wave of the wings. I figured he was dying and would thus blow off my car once I started driving. So I headed off to work, listening to Jackson point out every single bus and truck on the way to UCLA. I dropped Jackson off at daycare, then stayed for a while to watch him and chat with one of the other mothers. Finally, I figured it was time to get to work, so I completed my journey down to south campus. When I got out of my car, I spied the bee again. He was displaced about a foot from his original location on my car, but was there nonetheless. I was incredibly impressed. It's about 8 miles to UCLA from home. I figure I'm roughly three or four hundred times larger than a bee, so a journey like that's probably similar to a trip from LA to Atlanta...on the roof of an airplane. I blew on him again and he had the same reaction. I tapped on the roof near him to see if he'd move, but he just hunkered down again.

All day long, my thoughts returned to the bee. I don't know why. I just wondered why he hung onto my car for such a long journey. When I returned to my car at the end of the day, I expected to see a dead version of him on the roof. But I didn't. I looked around on the ground and elsewhere on the car to see if I could find his carcass, but nothing. He had flown away at some point in the day.

I think I know why I'm so struck by the image of this bee. When I'm not feeling well, either physically or emotionally, I have a hard time holding on to any type of commitment. I just let go of things. But something in this bee caused him to hunker down and just hang on in the face of adversity. I probably need to learn some of that. Don't give up. Hang in there. Enjoy the ride. And when I'm ready, then I can spread my gravity-defying wings and fly....

Clarice

Jackson's First Statement

Since Jackson was first born, we've been tracking his major milestones. I had been writing them in my journal. For his first 13 months, I scribbled quite regularly about the new things he was learning. First smile, first laugh (funny that my parents caught both of those firsts), first day of eating baby food, first tooth, second tooth, third tooth.... But since he started walking at 13 months, there haven't been quite as many entries. It's interesting. So many activities are finite...measurable. You can clearly determine when a child has learned to crawl or walk or say a specific word. But now his main focus appears to be language development. And that's something that can take a lifetime.

I blogged before about some of his first words. He's certainly expanded his vocabulary in the past month. And his pronunciation has improved. For example, he now calls broccoli "brocciole" instead of "bok" and orange is now "orch" instead of "oof". However, he still says "ow ow" instead of "I love you."

Well, now Jackson's starting to put words together. Most of the time, it's words to express his needs. "More more milk", "more more brocciole", "more more orch". And tonight he charmed our small group at the dinner table by saying very clearly, "more corn peesh." Notice a pattern there? Yep, our boy LOVES his food. And the balance of the time, Jackson's naming the objects he can associate with words. "Oh, look...bus....bus....bus...bye, bye, bus" or "Oh, look...ruck...cruck...truck...bye, bye truck" or "moon...ky...tars...keeyoud". But last week, he made his first declarative statement.

I had been hanging out with some dear girlfriends for a very sad event (more about the ending of an era in another post) and was looking forward to coming home to see my boys. When I came in the door, I found Ian curled up on the sofa with his eyes closed. I figured he'd be trying to take his Sunday nap since he'd been under the weather. And Jackson was sitting on the living room floor "drawing". At least he was handling paper and crayons. He gave me his happy Jackson smile when I came in. When I sat down next to him and asked him how his day went, he pointed to Ian on the sofa and said "Daddy seeping". "What?" I asked. "Seeping," he gestured again, "Daddy seeping. Sssss." Since I still wasn't sure what he said, I told him that I didn't understand. That's when Ian piped up from his semi-conscious position on the sofa, "He said Daddy's sleeping." Ooops!

I've been reliving the episode all week long. It just tickles me that my little boy can identify the action of sleep and felt it was important to tell me that Daddy was sleeping. I wish I knew why he thought it was important to tell me. And I marvel that he knew that I didn't understand what he said. And, of course, it cracks me up that Ian had to emerge from his Sunday nap to translate for me. Overall, it will be a memory that I'll cherish. So my entries in my journal have slowed a bit. I just can't keep up with all of Jackson's new words. But I look forward to more language milestones....like our first real conversation.

Clarice

Medical Missions

My church takes a team to Ensenada, Mexico thrice yearly and the Labor Day Weekend trip is their medical team trip. Clarice used to go every year with the dental team, but then she met me and we had a little one. This year, I wanted to serve the poor in Ensenada and I especially wanted to serve on the dental team so that I could observe my wife in her natural habitat and understand better what she does so passionately.

Man, was I not ready.

First of all, I'm not a clean freak. Or maybe I am. As a special effects technician on movies, I got used to working with dirt and eating with not-so-cleaned hands (sometimes it was hypo-allergenic dirt). I could never work food service because I can't stand the need to always have clean hands for working with food. Besides my hands dry out when I wash them too much. However, one of the requirements of any medical team is sterile instruments and sterilization was the only way this medically ignorant volunteer could be of valued assistance. And I know these poor people need clean instruments because they are about to have their teeth pulled.

It's one thing in the movies to create squirting, bloody wounds with tubes and syringes or have red corn syrup and luncheon meat blasted out of your chest for a simulated gunshot wound. It's another thing altogether to witness a room full of wincing or uncomfortable people, trying to relax in lawnchairs as foreigners scrape plaque or fill cavities. I didn't get an upset stomach, but I was a bit uneasy at first.

So, fortunately for me, by lunchtime I had relaxed. I was able to take the instruments through the disinfectant rinses, dry and package them in sterile envelopes and pressure steam (autoclave) them for ten minutes. I could appreciate the smiles on faces of people who had been relieved of their tooth ache, a pain they had dealt with for up to a year and one that has now been replaced with a "good, temporary pain" as the novocaine wears off. I mourned for the children whose moms approved having their children's teeth pulled because they couldn't afford proper care. I was glad that certain poor farmers' children were given floss for the first time ever. A happy smile is a healthy smile.

I know one thing for sure, I'm going to double my efforts to floss my teeth properly.

Special Guest - God

Hey, here's a funny video about the Trinity made by some friends at my old church, Bel Air Presbyterian.

Expectant

Ever since Jackson was born, people have been asking us about "the next one." You know...nudge, nudge, wink, wink..."So when's the next one?" I think it took my dad all of one week after meeting his first grandchild before he asked for the next one. I don't quite remember how I responded in my sleep-deprived state of delirium. In fact, for the following year, my general thought upon being so questioned was to cover my ears and loudly sing some non-nursery rhyming song. Nothing like a little Deathcab for Cutie or Alanis Morisette to kill the thought of returning to 8-9 feedings and 10-12 poopy diapers a day. Actually, now that I think of it, it probably would have been better to sing some of those mind-numbing nursery rhymes after all.

However, now that Jackson's turning into a little person, we're starting to dream about the next one. And now we're proud to announce that we're expecting in 10-11 months!!

So...did I get you? Well don't feel bad if I tricked you into a false hope (if you're still confused, remember that pregnancy is traditionally considered to be 9 months). We've been saying that to people for the past month or so and quite a few people have been tricked into thinking that we're actually expecting (including an anonymous person I'll only identify as mom).

But I can honestly say that even though are not expecting, we truly are expectant. Not to get into the revealing details...but actually trying to promote the birth of a child is REALLY different from having it just happen to you (And by "you", I don't mean the hypothetical, non-descript "you". I actually mean Ian and myself). So now I've joined the ranks of those who long for a child. I'm a participant in the regular cycles of hope and disappointment. And I'm realizing that it's a hard place to be. But I am also confident in the goodness of God and the wisdom of His timing. For when we didn't think we were ready to welcome a baby, He brought Jackson. And now that we demand that we're ready for another, I rest assured that He has the right outcome in mind.

Clarice

A Little Lenten Period

I saw something a couple of months ago that got me all fired up. See, I have this pet peeve (well, I have lots of them, but this one is blogworthy). It really really bugs me when people throw their cigarette butts out their car windows to the street below. Maybe it's because I grew up in the 70's, when we were hounded by the "Keep America Beautiful" campaign. You know...Keep Litter in Its Place. It came at about the same time as "Only You Can Prevent Forest Fires," but that's another story. Because of that decade of brainwashing, I can NOT bring myself to litter with a clear conscience. If you check the lint trap of our dryer, you'll find plenty of evidence of that fact, as I tuck trash in my pockets if I can't find a trash can (or I tuck it into Ian's pockets so he can deal with either disposal or litter guilt) and then forget that I was going to avoid littering when we load our washer. Again, another story.

So a couple of months ago, I saw the familiar sight of an arm out a car window casually waving a cigarette. I started in with my normal flash of internal annoyance, when I noticed something that really ignited a reaction. See, the arm wasn't hanging out of just any car. No, this was a Toyota Prius. Yes, the Hybrid, the eco-friendly, "green" car. So I stayed on the car's tail, just waiting and waiting for the inevitable casual flip of the cigarette butt down to the street below. What do you think happened? Well, I have to be completely honest here. I took my eyes off the offending piece of refuse (the cigarette butt) for just a moment. When I looked back, the butt was gone, the hand empty. So I can't say with certainty that the Prius owner was also guilty of littering, but if circumstantial evidence holds up....

It just seemed like such an oxymoronic observation. Most Prius owners aren't casual about their car choice. I've found them to be fairly intentional about the choice of that particular car. And most of them choose Prius because of the potential reduction of gas consumption, thus decreasing said owner's carbon footprint. However, last time I checked, neither smoking nor littering were particularly beneficial to the environment (nor the health of the offender and his/her second-hand victims). OK. So maybe this Prius owner wasn't a rabid carbon-footprint reducer and maybe we can say that I shouldn't be so hard on the potential hypocrisy it would demonstrate. Maybe this Prius owner was just trying to be economical. You know, save some money on gas. But even that smells a bit oxymoronic, especially when you consider the fact that the average smoker consumes around 2 packs of cigarettes a day, which is the equivalent of about 2 gallons of gas (in my car, that's 2 days of commuting).

At any rate, I got all fired up thinking about other examples of hypocrisy. And after a while, I realized that many of the examples of things I thought of exemplified one side of the political spectrum. For example, why is it that many people who are passionate animal rights advocates are also strong advocates of the movement to expand abortion rights. Why is saving the whales more important that saving unborn people? OK. I got that one from Erwin McManus. Here's one I thought of on my own. Why is it that advocates who wish to normalize homosexual behavior can use the justification that sexual preference is inborn and can't be changed? Yet when a sex offender is being punished, people defend them with the justification that they can change their sexual preference and should not be subjected to preventive measures to protect children from their advances in the future. Oh no. I had a ton more in my mind that I can't remember right now. At any rate, I started thinking about using this blog to make a case for conservatism. I started a dozen posts in my mind about the drawbacks of modern day liberalism and the positive points of neoconservatism. I spent hours in the evening (and sometimes even at work) reading political blogs trying to put together evidence-based coherent arguments. But then something happened...

It was about a month ago at small group. A friend of mine (Hi Stev!) was praying for us to be passionate about the things that Jesus was passionate about. And suddenly I had this feeling of conviction. I was spending much more time pursuing knowledge of politics than I was knowledge of Jesus. And I had this immediate sense of what I had to do. I tried to push it away, but it kept coming back. So 30 days ago I declared a little lenten period. I was going to avoid all of my favorite political blogs and any other kind of political analysis for 40 days. Instead, any time I had a compulsion for that material, I would try to think about Jesus instead.

So it's been 30 days now. And it hasn't been too bad. It was kind of tough at the beginning, especially when major political moments occurred. But I've enjoyed redeeming the time. And come to think of it, I can't even remember what major political events occurred in the past 30 days which would require my attention.

10 more days to go. Hopefully, I'll be able to return to my political education with a bit more balance. But I'll still allow myself to get a bit annoyed when I see the flip of cigarette butt out the car window.

Clarice

So Affectionate

He Likes Cake

This was taken about a month ago at the birthday party of one of his little school friends. Poor firstborn child of a pediatric dentist. At 17 months of age, he'd only had cake 3 times in his life. He'd only had maybe a dozen cookies (it only took him 24 hours to learn how to say "coo-key, coo-key, coo-key"). Only had one m&m once because Aunt McCall didn't know that pediatric dentists' kids get limited sugar exposure. And has only had water and milk to drink...until this same day, when the birthday boy's mom handed him a juice box, which he polished in short order, followed by the slamming of fists together (sign language for "more") and repeated pleas for "more wah...peesh." How long do you think we can keep him in the dark about the ravages/pleasure of sugar?

Clarice

Look Who's Talking

So now that Jackson's (almost) mastered walking and running, he's moved on to advancing his verbal skills. It's so adorable. We hear him in the morning when he wakes up talking to his stuffed "swamp cat." Just babbling away in his little precious voice. Other times, he'll point at something, look at us expectantly and say something like, "belaka chp num pekatu cho...um...bao bao?" We don't know what he's saying half the time, but he's clearly mastered some words. The words don't always sound like they're supposed to, however. But since we have to listen to him all the time, we've started piecing together what some of his words actually mean. So here's the first edition of the Claweyre translation of the Jackson lexicon of language.

TRANSPORT (he likes wheels and anything attached to wheels):
bus = bus
cah = car (slight Boston accent, since that's where he first came into existence)
ehpane = airplane
ehcop = helicopter

NATURE:
ow-di = outside
moo = moon
tree = tree
kys = sky

ANIMALS:
mao mao = cat
wo wo = dog
ba ba = lamb
bur = bird
cow = cow

FOOD ITEMS:
cheese = cheese
nilk = milk
wah = water
bao bao = Chinese for bread (yes, our boy is developing bilingual tendencies)
ooof = orange
ba = banana
bok = broccoli
appo = apple
appo = grape
appo = cherry
appo = pear

PLEASANTRIES:
bye bye = bye bye
hi = hi
peesh = please
keeku = thank you
nonononononono = I don't want to say sorry

and our personal favorite....
ow Ow = I love you

I'm hoping he grows out of "ow Ow" before he meets his future wife. But for now, it's darn cute.

Clarice

Pain and Suffering

Last Thursday, Jackson contracted a fever and I kept him home from daycare on Friday. The poor little guy was just miserable and uncomfortable, his skin burning hot. He would try to sleep and just toss and turn, whimper and groan. Even play time was short bursts of joy tempered by his body's internal battle. It was really sad to see him suffer.

Twice, when Jackson was unable to sleep at a nap time, I let him run around and play. Both times, he would eventually come to me and hold my leg, not saying the usual enthusiastic "up?" I held him while working one-handed on my computer and he would watch quietly, maybe scratching a finger on the edge of the computer, but none of his usual contorting to click every button within reach. Both times, he fell asleep in my arms, very quietly and peacefully.

Now, here's the awesome part. Both times, the little guy just wanted to be held by his daddy so he could fall asleep. And I discovered that this resulted in me being even more filled with love for him. It was more than being chosen by him and my being able to comfort him. My heart just went out to him in his pain and suffering and limited means of communication. And being allowed this privilege caused far greater feelings for him than I have when he's healthy, running around and not needing or wanting the same closeness or quality time. And I experience a lot of joy from his healthy moments.

I think I connected with God in those moments. He loves us unconditionally and longs for us to desire him. When we need him most, He is there the most. When we suffer the most, he loves us the most. I need my Daddy God. Thank you Lord! I love you, too.

Now my wife has what Jackson had - hot skin, achy body, restless sleep. It's my privilege to love her through the moment.

Ian

The ABC Song

I was really really hoping that Jackson would be musical. And happily, he's showing evidence that he might not have inherited his PapaJohn's...uh...lack of pitch sensitivity. To PapaJohn's credit, there's a wonderful resonance to his voice. But my compliments will have to stop with his speaking abilities.

The first evidence of Jackson's musical sensibilities came as a surprise a few months ago. He was in the charge of his Auntie M while Ian and I had dinner out. When we came back, M said that he had hummed the tune to "Skip to my Lou" along with her. I hadn't heard him do that yet. Hence, the surprise. Sure enough, the next morning when I sang it to him to test him out, he echoed the notes of the chorus right back to me.

Then a few weeks later, I put him down to nap. Sometimes, we put a book in his crib so he can entertain himself before falling asleep. This time I put a little songbook with a micro-keyboard in with him. I heard him tapping on some keys. Then I heard a single note followed by an off key "aaa". Another note followed by a slightly flat "aaa". Then a third time with the same key on the piano. And darned if he didn't hit that note pitch perfect..."AAA"! The kiddo was learning to sing on key!!

Then last month we were in Atlanta for the Independence Day holiday. We noticed that Jackson had this little phrase he kept repeating. A O A O A O A. We weren't sure what he was singing until we realized that the notes of his A O A O A O A perfectly matched those when we sing A B C D E F G. Of course that entertained us for a while (especially cousin Aidan, who really knows his ABCs).

Now the ABC song is heard daily in the Eyre household. And Jackson's shown significant improvement. Now he's up to A B E B E B E, Etch Uh Uh Uh Uh Uh X. Then he quits. He's getting better every day. And he loves to perform. In fact, next time you see him, ask him to sing the ABC song. He will gladly oblige. He might not have all the lyrics down yet, but as his mama, I am proud to announce that he's hitting all the right notes pretty close to proper pitch.

Clarice

Pat Pat Pat

What is it about us as adults that when we pick up babies we like to pat them on their backs? Both Ian and I have been doing that since Jackson was a newborn. He's even learned from my mother that the comforting rhythmic pressure of an adult hand on his back is called "pat pat pat." We used to pat him to burp him or to soothe him when he was distressed. Now it's usually after he's fallen or unhappy.

A few months ago, Jackson started patting us. It's cute as all get out. He'd be crying about something (usually being denied the pleasure of throwing his milk cup across the room or losing sight of us as we passed into the bathroom). We'd pick him up in his distressed state and he would calm down as he patted either of us on the back.

So yesterday as I dropped him off at daycare, I disappeared for a nanosecond into the kitchen and he became upset. I came out and picked him up, holding him close for a hug. He calmed and started patting me on the back (because I was distressed? I don't know). Then he stopped and looked at me and reached around to pat his own back. I was trying to figure out what he was doing when he patted me again, then looked at me and patted his own back. Then I got it. He wanted me to pat his back. So I did...and he relaxed with the pleasure of it. Funny how far a little pat pat pat can go.

Clarice

Single Mom

Ian left today. He's scheduled to be gone for one month working on a movie officially called Untitled Genre Project. Poor sod is stuck in Hawaii while I get to luxuriate in the summer heat of Los Angeles in our ramshackle, non-air-conditioned duplex with a toddler in the throes of early onset terrible twos.

It's actually Ian's second out-of-town assignment for this same project. Last time was 11 days in New Mexico. And Jackson and I survived (with a little help from my mom). Ian asked me how I felt about his absence this time around. I told him that the net effect was zero. I'm more anxious about the longer period of time (and sad about not seeing my sweetie for a whole month), but feel more confident that I can do it, having done it for 11 days already.

But it helps to know that in a month, he'll be back again. I just don't know how single moms do it for years on end. I just can't imagine not being able to share the load AND the joys of parenthood with another. One of the other moms at Jackson's daycare once joked that whenever her husband was out of town, leaving her alone with the kids, she always greeted him on his return with the declaration that her resolve never to divorce him strengthened with each experience with single parenthood. I definitely prefer parenting with a partner.

So hurry home, my dear. There's so much to share. It's only been one day so far (out of the thirty-something to come), but you've already missed out on Jackson releasing a squirt of diarrhea on his bedroom floor AND the cute anecdote about how he greeted his little friends Chris and Anusha today.

Clarice

Family Time

Ian and I made a commitment to make sure that Jackson had an opportunity to see his paternal grandparents at least twice a year. This has turned into an annual Eyre clan gathering over the 4th of July holiday (if you do it twice, is it officially an annual event?). So last week, the clan gathered together for some family time. Here we are at the foot of Stone Mountain in Georgia.

It has been wonderful to spend time with these folks. I'm really blessed with my new extended family. PapaJohn is a jolly bloke, with an infectious laugh and an incredible knowledge of Scripture and church history. MumIvy is a tenderheart who loves to serve her family in any way she can (and particularly through baked goods). My brother-in-law Roy and his wife Becky are an inspiration in the way they have chosen to be involved in the advancement of the kingdom of God through their work with Wycliffe Bible Translators. And I love the way they have chosen to raise their three kids, who are wonderful cousins to Jackson. And Elisabeth is my kindred spirit sister, who likes to read the same kind of things I like to read and think about the things that I like to think about. So blessed.

Sad to be gone from the madness of the Eyre family gathering. Looking forward to the next.

Clarice

Does he know?

Since Jackson was about 3 months old, we've had a nightly routine with him. First he gets a bath and gets dressed in his pajamas (kids pajamas are so darn cute!!). Then we read him a story. And after his story, we pray with him on his behalf. We just wanted to get him in the habit of thanking God for the blessings of the day. At first, he didn't like it much. We would try to fold his hands together, which he resisted as an infant. However, at about 9 months of age, he started getting used to the idea. He would independently fold his hands together, sometimes bow his head, and stay silent until we finished praying with him. Then maybe two months ago, he started saying "Amen" after hearing us say "In Jesus' name." I think he is accustomed to the idea of praying together with us.

Ian and I have our own morning routine, which we've had since a few weeks into marriage. When the first of us to leave prepares to depart, we have a short time of prayer just to get our minds and hearts in the right place for the day. It's been our time, but since Jackson started daycare at 5 months, we've been including him in our time by just holding him with us as we pray. We never really explained to him what was happening. It was just part of our routine. Well last month, a few words into our prayer time, we heard the "pat" sound of little hands clasping together and a little voice saying "Amen" over and over again. Somehow he knew that what was happening in the morning was the same thing that we did with him at night. I thought it was really quite amazing that he made the connection. Maybe it was the "In Jesus' name..." that tipped him off. At any rate, he has now become an active participant in our morning prayer time.

Last week, something else amazing happened. On our commute home, I decided to abstain from my usual auditory diet of talk radio or children's music and instead tuned in to a Christian music radio station. They were playing a worship song that I wasn't familiar with. All of a sudden I heard the little voice in the carseat behind me pipe up with his chorus of "Amens." I pondered it in my heart for a week until it happened again yesterday. How is it that he knows that worship music and prayer time have something in common? I've often heard it said that children are more spiritually attuned than adults are. I'm starting to think so. Otherwise, what else could explain how he seems to recognize activity intended to usher in the presence of God. Can't wait to see how he grows in his spiritual awareness.

Clarice

Flashback

Our back lawn is dying. It's brown and yellow and the dirt below is rock hard. In the winter, it's a luscious green, but in the summer it requires significant watering to stay alive. Ian and I made an executive decision a few weeks ago to just leave it alone. I had been reading that this year may be a record-breaker in terms of lack of rain. I had been hearing that we are possibly in for a drought year rivaling the drought conditions of the 70's. I was explaining that to my mom the other day when she saw the desert behind our home. And something she said took me back to my childhood.

I remembered the drought conditions we had in the late 70's. Everyone was urged to conserve water. We had a swimming pool that we didn't maintain, leaving it half-filled to avoid wasting water. We took brief showers, turning off the water to shampoo and lather up, turning the water back on only to rinse. The gross conservationist strategy was that we only flushed the toilet if we did #2. Otherwise, we let volumes of #1 collect until the deposit of a #2 justified the 2-3 gallons of water used per flush. I hope it doesn't get like that again.

I also remembered the gas crisis in the 70's. I remember waiting in lines for hours to get gas. I think Carter had decided to impose some restrictions on fuel, resulting in a severe shortage. But that was back when gas cost 10% of what it now costs. I definitely hope we don't revisit the long waits in addition to the increased cost.

And I remembered hearing in school that scientists had been studying the weather patterns and were warning that we should prepare for an ice age. I remember hearing my teacher talk about the possibility that we, like the dinosaurs, might end up going extinct. I wonder what happened to that data when they started postulating the possibility that we're now supposed to be entering a global warming disaster. I really hope we don't revisit the ice age idea. I much prefer warm weather to cold.

Clarice

Jackson Kisses

Jackson recently learned how to give kisses. At first it was blowing a kiss. Well, he'd put his hand to his mouth, say "mmmm", then throw his hand out somewhere. Then about a month ago, he learned how to kiss us on the faces. We always had to demonstrate first by kissing each other. Then he would offer each of us a slobbery kiss on the cheeks (after attempting to kiss on the mouth first).

Jackson has LOTS of stuffed animals. Plushes of all types - lions, caterpillars, monkeys, Bruin bears. None of them have been purchased by us. Half have been gifts from generous friends. The other half appear in our home on an occasional basis, usually after my mom has been over for a visit. She knows he has a ton of stuffed animals, but she said she wanted to make sure he had lots of animals to love.

So lately, Jackson has been expressing his love to his stuffed animals. He'll spend the entire evening with his little blue lamb in hand, occasionally kissing it on the mouth and babbling to it. We'll find him in his crib in the morning looking his "Swamp Cat" happily in the eyes and kissing her/him on the nose. And his naptime doggy lovey gets an affectionate bite on the nose before being smothered by a slobbery kiss. It's darn cute.

Part of me marvels that he can be so affectionate with objects that can't return his affections. To me, it means that he feels enough love to share without expectation of return. At least, that's what I assume. At any rate, it's very heartwarming. Now to get him to kiss his grandparents on command....

Clarice

I'm Okay

Jackson was sick last month. Well, he's been sick quite a few times since entering into the daycare viral cesspool, but it was a tough one last month. He was a little wheezy, which worried me a bit, since one of his previous colds resulted in coughing and wheezing that was serious enough for him to be put on the nebulizer. Ian has mild asthma, and I also had a mild form of asthma as a child that I eventually grew out of. So I was worried that Jackson might show more signs of asthma during last month's illness. Every night I would listen to him after he fell asleep to make sure that his breathing wasn't labored. And he was usually fine. However, one night he had a particularly difficult time falling asleep. Then around 4 AM I heard him coughing and crying a bit. So I got up to make sure he was breathing okay. I sat on the floor next to his crib for a few minutes just listening to the rattle and buzz of his little airway. I could tell he was having a hard time. He was on his stomach and kept rubbing his face against the sheet, coughing, and crying out in little mewling protests of discomfort. All of a sudden, he pushed himself up and turned his face in my direction. He was alert and still, peering at me in the dark. Then he took his little hand and reached out to touch my face. He smiled, figuring out that the form next to his bed was real and not just a dream. Then he put his head down on the bed, maintained eye contact with me for a few seconds, then drifted into a more peaceful sleep. It was almost as if he knew that I was there and decided "mom's here so I'm okay." I had to sit there for a few more minutes in the darkness just processing the fact that my presence set him at ease.

A few nights later we were at our small group. Jackson was playing with a little three and a half year old girl (I'll call her "A") whose parents also come to our group. He was still getting the hang of walking at the time and took a little tumble under her watch. I looked over to see her helping him on his feet again and asking "Are you okay?" I thought it was cute that she was checking on him (especially since we're not sure how much he understands). Then about a half hour later, she took a tumble of her own off the sofa. I heard the unmistakable sound of little hands and feet hitting hardwood, an exclamation of "ow!", then the announcement to the adults of "I'm okay!" I found it to be rather endearing that she would immediately think that the adults would need to be assured of her status. Then I remembered that I'd heard that before while at the home of other friends. The child left alone to play in her room...crashing sounds...and the shout of "I'm okay." And I realized that these children knew they were loved. They knew that their parents would be concerned about how they felt after their little bumps and bruises. And our three and a half year old little friend, A, had learned to transfer that concern to another.

All of this made me think of that passage in Mark, where Jesus was talking about how we should "receive the kingdom of God like a little child". I was never sure what that meant. But I think I'm getting a better idea. I am so unlike a little child in my faith at times. I'm not like Jackson, where I am comforted by the knowledge that my parent is near. Even when I see evidence of my Heavenly Father's presence and His concern for me, my heart often remains troubled because I don't trust His presence and concern. I think I need to learn that from Jackson - to rest well knowing that my Father is watching me. And I'm not like Jackson's little friend, A, where I am so confident of my parents' concern. I am not so convinced that my Heavenly Father cares and I don't offer Him regular thanks nor even requests for things I need. I know it intellectually, but I think I need to learn from "A" the confidence that He really wants me to let Him know how I am. I need to learn from these little ones that I'm okay and to announce it regularly.

Clarice

Photo Shoot

Our friends Joe and Jenny came over a few weeks ago to take pictures of Jackson. They have a side business doing video and stills of weddings (and babies). Just go to www.pictage.com and search for Jackson Eyre. He was a little serious that day, it being his first photo shoot and all. But Jenny was able to capture some of his livelier moments. Enjoy!!

Clarice