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Baby Dedication

Ramona got dedicated at church last Sunday.

For months I had dreamed of this moment: sharing with the church how much we had appreciated their prayers in our hour of need, the grace that was given to us, the solid little squaker who is now 5x her birth weight.

But Krispin, in the heat of the moment, said what he had to say (which was good, I will grant him that) and passed the microphone back to the pastor, who said : “let us pray”.

And that was that. The mother does not get a say.

So. Here is what I would have said, had been thinking about saying for the past 9 months:

When Ramona was born so tiny, we were afraid. But God has promised to bring big things from such a tiny package.

The kingdom of God comes through babies.

It comes in a myriad of ways. PArtly, it comes by refining us, the parents. Nine months in and we are already more patient, less selfish people. We have been faced with our grumpy, sleep-deprived selves every morning and come to grips what it is like to experience trauma and small tragedies. We have more faith in a plan that is much bigger than us and much, much, much more respect for all the other mothers (and fathers).

The kingdom is also going to come through Ramona. We don’t know how yet, but she is part of God’s plan.

And to all the parent’s out there, in the throes of chaos:

You are bringing the kingdom as well.

And that’s what I would have said.

I already murdered Krispin several times in my head (and then repented–OK?) and he feels really bad about his flustered mistake.

And I already pointed out that Krispin himself (on this very blog!) said that he wanted to use this baby dedication as a way to empower women.


In other news, Ramona went on her first hike to Multnomah falls.


And check out this shot of the falls:

The K Mayfields are moving to Phoenix this week. Ramona is going to miss her Nai Nai, Grandpa, and two lovely aunties. But we will enjoy visiting in the dead of winter!


life is like an apartment full of various purses.

at least we remembered the sun hat.

some thoughts:

1. my life can be summed up by the metaphor of purses.

i was trying to explain to krispin how i felt so exhausted the other day trying to find my lip balm. the thing is, my lip balm could be in any of the various bags and purses strewn throughout the apartment, and i just didn’t have the energy to go rummaging through them all.

i have the diaper bag, of course, which is my purse most days but is also the walking fun-bag for the ramona baby (and i mean that in 2 ways, both toy and formula related). we could live out of that bag for a week in the wilderness. we are just that prepared.

i have my school backpack (yes i am the teacher now and i still lug a backpack around. i am really trying to upgrade this one but have yet to find anything functional yet) which is crammed with so many dry erase markers and random short-vowel sound flash cards it makes my head hurt

i have my community english class tote, which is filled with crumpled pages, random esl books, and several very slobbered upon toys. also keys.

and then, for the precious times when i go out sans baby/class to teach i carry a . . . . nothing. i just stick a couple of things (debit card, id, cash [yeah right, who carries cash anymore] cell phone) in the pocket of whatever pants/sweatshirt/jacket i happen to be wearing. i should probably get some sort of small purse for these occasions, but i love the illusion of being unencumbered.

so, when i need my lip gloss (or keys or phone or driver’s license or or or) i have to run through a checklist of what i did last and where i am going next and this just reminds me of the one hundred other checklists that all need to be completed at some point before the next thing happens (diapers? wipes? lesson plan? worksheets printed? breath mints? water bottle? sun hat? dark chocolate? current episodes of Fresh Air on my ipod?). which part of my life am i living right now? which bag do i need.

see, it’s all a metaphor. but also, i really do have a bunch of different bags with a bunch of different crap in them. and it makes me feel tired sometimes.

2. i HATE developmental surveys.

the drs. office called yesterday and said we needed to fill out a 10 month questionnaire before ramona’s appointment today. i could feel my heart sinking as i read over the questions and mentally checked 90% of the boxes as “not yet” (they should have been marked NO, NO MY BABY DOES NOT DO THAT–insert normal behavior here–SO SOMETHING IS REALLY WRONG, RIGHT? that was what i was getting).

and again, i know that she is not THAT behind, but it still is aggravating to be rudely poked out of the bubble that we have built for ourselves. that there is some catching up to do.

3. there is nothing that makes my feel more accomplished than multi-tasking. because usually i am crap at it (just try asking anyone who has tried to have a conversation with me while i am reading).

me and krispin have been trying to get more in shape for the past several months, and i was always slightly resentful to spend precious nap-time minutes on sweating it up.

so, i stole my mom’s jogging stroller and ramona and i have been hitting the town! i am extremely excited to

a. get out in the sunshine (which is a double yay, since there has actually been some to be out in recently!)

b. keep the ramona baby somewhat happy during waking hours


so, we pretty much feel awesome.

and there are my random thoughts for the week. now, we are off to the drs. to hopefully not get traumatized but rather encouraged. and then multnomah falls! let’s bring on the summer.


For Mother’s Day last year, Krispin and I took my mom out to see the movie Babies. It was poignant, see, because I was 4 months preggo at the time.

Crazy to think that this mother’s day I have an 8 month old baby.

For this Mother’s Day we decided to incorporate last year’s gift into this years.

And, viola! (did I spell that right?):

i just want to add that there is no video footage of her in the hospital (we were too tired and traumatized) and no footage of the period between 3-6 months due to the months the locusts ate colic.

happy early mother’s day, ya’ll.


easter. a magical time of marshmallows and chocolate and pastels and candy and eggs and plastic and . . . .

ug. easter is kind of gross when you take all the spiritual imagery out of it. this year krispin and i discussed what we can do for ramona to help her know what an important day of celebration it is for christians. and as much nostalgia as we have for our own childhoods full of easter baskets and egg hunts, we all realize that it makes for a certain sense of confusion when we try to cram a bunch of holy rituals into a sugar-coma crazed day.

but besides that pressing theological question, we had a lovely and relaxing easter with the whole family.

here is a picture of ramona in her easter dress (she had three–this is the one grammi bought her and the one i was forced chose to dress her in on the big day):

what a cute baby.

you would never guess that this happy creature could have slept 12 hours last night and is now screaming bloody murder all through her afternoon nap. sigh. babies are anything if not consistent.

here is a more up-to-the minute pic:

ah well. at least now you can see a hint of my new “mom hair”.

worry wart.

So I get these e-mails from babycenter, and it has always been rather annoying (no matter what I do, I can’t get the e-mails for her adjusted age, and so I always feel despondent when I read about what Ramona “should” be doing–and yet I still read them). And the other day it was all about how 8 month old babies should be crawling and getting bruises and blah blah blah and I am sitting there thinking “the Ramona baby can’t even sit up yet”. And then I click the link about When I should start to be concerned and this pops up:

Warning Signs:
Check Here
7 to 9 months
  • at 7 months, has poor head control when pulled to a sitting position
  • at 7 months, is unable to get objects into his mouth
  • at 7 months, is not reaching for objects
  • by 7 months, doesn’t bear some weight on his legs
  • by 8 months, can’t sit independently

So yeah, it’s a warning sign. Now, Ramona officially turned 8 months old 3 days ago, and her adjusted age is really somewhere around the 6 month mark, so I was going to give myself a good week or two before I let my brain go to the place of “something is wrong with my baby”. And then this happened today:

smiles, sunshine, and sitting.

In other news, we have made it 8 months. I feel like I deserve some sort of award, or certificate or a donut named after me for this accomplishment.

morning star

i have been rather scattered, and hence–no blogging.

i am starting to realize that working “one day a week” really diminishes the amount of hours i spend planning curriculum, grading, and otherwise preparing for my classes (case in point: for my upcoming summer course i am required to observe at least 2-3 classes and meet with a mentor several times and take a course on the specific computer system . . . etcetera!). this cloud of i-should-be-doings follows me around like a low-grade fever. i am a little bit irritable as a result.

so, i need to be more honest about that. i need more time to work on my work.

for the past couple of months i have let housework slide, as it seemed like the least pressing concern. however, i have been spending a lot of time inside my apartment lately (thanks to a baby and a rainy pacific northwest spring–seriously, it was not sunny 31 out of 31 days in March) and i have taken to describing the place as a grubby hellhole. so i have been doing some cleaning.

i had a stereotypical breakdown the other day, letting all my frustrations get the best of me. krispin was home and the baby was napping and i flew out the door in a huff (in sweatpants, natch), keys in hand, nowhere as a destination. i cried in the car, pounding my fists on the steering wheel and singing along to the innocence mission and i went to home depot and let myself get talked into buying the expensive kind of paint (and a nice paintbrush–they [the men who worked at home depot who seemed slightly traumatized by my red-and-blotchy cry face] assured me it would last 7 years and i am at a point in my life where i need to get over my reliance on cheap and disposable) and then i went home and painted an old dresser and a bookshelf a lovely shade of light teal and rearranged some furniture.

as a game, read back over that paragraph and see how many stereotypes about moms you can spot!

yeah, i know. news flash:  i am emotional and frumpy and i took some pride in making my “space” more welcoming.

in other news, ramona is almost 8 months, and can be very charming when she wants to be. she still has no interest in sitting up, but she thinks spastic dogs and sneezes and yams and oatmeal are the best things in life (oh, and reading books. and pulling off her socks and chewing on them). and then there are days like today: lots of screaming, little sleeping. well, she can’t always be perfect.

coming up: a guest post by the baby daddy! seriously, krispin made some remarks about wanting to write about what kind of mom i was behind the scenes–you know, the kind of mom who, when the baby throws a toy on the floor picks it up and puts it in the diaper bag only to fish it out 5 minutes later and stick it back in the baby’s hands. 5 minutes in a diaper bag=germ disinfectant, right? actually, krispin, i just wait until whoever saw the toy land on the floor is a good distance away and then i pull it out again. yeah, i just stole your bad-mom-story thunder!!!!!!!!


oh my gosh ramona has two teeth now, which came out of nowhere.

just like my emotions surrounding said teeth.

you guys, i actually got all misty about it! and thought (and said aloud) “she is never going to have a perfectly gummy smile anymore!” and i was sad, really. my baby is growing up.

and then krispin looked at me like i was crazy and reminded me about how i always talk about how excited i am for ramona to be a toddler.

it’s true, i am crazy. but i did not expect the emotions about the milestones. that doesn’t seem like my thing at all, kind of how i never felt any crazy baby urges or biological clocks ticking away or an overwhelming sense of purpose and fulfillment whilst up to my arms in baby poo. but two tiny (and razor sharp) teeth have me all blubbery.

poor krispin. he is on this crazy train for good.