The Poppy Dresses

    When I was barely pregnant with our second baby, I was telling my niece how the heart was already beating, and only the size of a poppy seed. She said "oh, we should call the baby Poppy!" That became her "womb" nickname, and when our beautiful little girl was born, it only seemed right to add it into her name. So even though it's a middle name, it stuck, and so seven eleven years later she is our Poppy Joy Girl. I've made her a dress with Poppy fabric every year, and here they are all together in one place. (You can click on the pictures to see them bigger.)

Eleven - She still loves pink and purple.

Ten! Fun and bright, just like my girl!

Nine- Something a little more grown up looking.

Eight. I loved the colors and bold prints on this one. 

Seven- I ordered the fabric on Etsy and only one of the prints- the really big one- had poppies on it! I couldn't tell the scale of the fabric online so there are actually only a few poppies on the dress. It also came out way shorter than I thought it would but I like it. I'm glad we're in a warm climate at the moment and she's able to get a little more wear out of it. 

Six- I used an Asian inspired pattern from Modkid and fabric I found on Etsy for this one. I love it, and love the way my girl looks in it!

The Five-Year Dress in all it's Poppy splendour! I had ordered the main fabric online and planned to pick a bright green contrast for the trim. But my girl went to the fabric store with me and wouldn't hear of green defiling her pink dress; so here it is in all it's Poppy Pinkness! 

Here is her fourth birthday dress, made with Amy Butler fabrics; I think this is my favorite one so far.

The Third Birthday. You can't see the details on this one very well. The little red flowers are poppies. (Daddy was trying to capture the girl, not so much the dress!) If you look here there is one picture of her where you can see the full length a little better.

The Second Birthday. I wanted to make a classic "little girl" style dress while she was still little. She wore this one for a long time.

The First Birthday. I saw this batik fabric first online, then purchased it in a local quilting shop. I love how it brings out the blue in her eyes. (She got those from her Daddy!) There were yellow bloomers underneath.

So there you have it, the first five eleven, of hopefully many, Poppy dresses. I don't sew for her as much as I'd like to, so I've really enjoyed doing these special dresses for her special days.

Thankful: Poppy

    Today I'm thankful for my Poppy Joy girl. I was watching her today and marveling at how big she is. Wasn't she just my little blue eyed baby with the wispy hair? And now she dances and tumbles about the house with the best of them. Still a little girl in so many ways, she's emerging somehow, into a more thoughtful quiet little lady. I often wonder what's going on in her mind, and have to gently draw her out. She is over the moon in love with Pearl, and I'm glad for these two; sister love is so sweet. (I know, because I have two amazing sisters who are some of my best friends.) She also plays happily for hours with Raphael, and lately has taken to drawing comics along with Peregrine. She still loves to have long sleepy snuggles when she gets up in the morning; I like them too. Like a certain auntie of hers, she seems to change her clothes an awful lot. (And, she loves purple... ahem, Gloria!) I love this girlie of mine, and am so thankful she's part of our family. 

Now We are Six

    My dear Poppy,

    Here we are again, you growing so fast, and me hardly keeping up. You turned six three months ago, and I'm just now sitting down to write your birthday letter. That's kind of how life is these days, with you and your brothers and sister racing along, and me trying to catch up. You're part of a wild little pack, my girl!

    Six! You're not a little girl anymore; sometimes I look across a room at you and am surprised by how big you are. Not just taller, but more you somehow, like the little girl of a few years ago was a bud, swelling with life, and you're slowly unfurling your petals to become a lovely flower. One of my favorite things about you is how thoughtful you are of others. You're always drawing pictures and making little gifts for the people you care about. You love to pick me flowers and I often have a bouquet of them, chosen with love by my girl. When you get something special, you want to make sure your brothers aren't left out. I love that about you, and hope your generosity continues to bloom!

    It's been so fun to see how much you love and care for Pearl. I will always remember how, when I was in labor with her, you kept bringing me little cards and pictures and flowers. You were like a butterfly, flitting in and out of the room, bringing joy and love. You were right there to welcome your baby sister, to smile down upon her, to whisper to her how pleased you were to finally meet her. And you've been such a sweet little mama-sister to her, helping, holding, singing, loving, and teaching her all about being a girl. Lately, you seem to have forgotten that she's still little and have gotten a bit rough with her at times. I guess she'll learn not only about fairies and dancing and sparkly things, but about getting along in the big rough world, too. I'm glad she has you for a big sister. 

    You've taken dance lessons for two years now, and it's been fun to watch you grow more confident and graceful. Your creativity is really growing lately, and you've joined the ranks of the crafty, churning out all kinds of pictures and paper crafts. You're waiting patiently to learn how to sew, and love to sit on my lap when I'm sewing, holding pins, and helping however else you can. I learned like that from Grandma, many years ago, and I'm glad to pass that on to you. You like to cook too, and have a few things that are your own creations, and you're pleased to make them for us. Yesterday was the Fourth of July, and you made us parfaits for breakfast, vanilla yogurt layered with strawberries, blueberries, and granola. This was your idea and you pulled it off with lots of love and great pleasure.

    You're awfully quiet sometimes, and I have to work hard to figure out what's going on inside you. There are others around, who are a lot louder and talk enough for several people, but your voice is important too, and I hope that you know we can always talk. I need to work harder to carve out special time with only you; we both seem to need that.

    I love that when you come out in the morning, you still want to curl up in my lap for a good long while, happy to just sit quietly and snuggle up. I enjoy those moments, and hope that you feel surrounded by love always. I know I often get impatient, and when I apologize you're so quick to forgive me. Thank you. You humble me with so much grace, and I want to be more like that.

    You have a very silly side, and it's hard to get a picture of you looking "normal". You like to ham it up for the camera, and can be pretty wild and crazy sometimes! You're pretty wild, and fearless about most things. I'm excited for all the adventures we'll have together.

    I love you, my Poppy Joy flower! I'm so glad I get to be your mama, get to grow and experience this life with you. Here's to another year, to a girl who's well on her way to seven!

                                                                                                            Love,
                                                                                                              Mama                                    

             

Foursday

Poppy: Mama, is there a Foursday?

Mama: Foursday?

Poppy: Well, there's Tuesday, and Onesday.

A Happy Twosday to all!

Just Call me Mother Goose

"Mama, we'll play Family, and I'll be the Mama, and you and Peregrine and Amy can be my kids." (Amy is a beloved doll.)

"Okay, Poppy, and will Raphi be one of your kids too?"

"No, he can be your baby. It's the first time ever that a kid layed a baby!"

Yeah, I've layed a couple babies in my time. You can just call me Mother Goose.

Flour Girl, Flower Girl

Poppy Rolls Tortillas

False Advertising

The package said "No Mess, Fuss, or Clean-Up!"

I beg to differ.

Magic

Don't you wish the Housekeeping Fairy would come to your home?

Birthday Letter to a Girl Who is Four

My Dear Little Alethea, 

When did you get so big? Four years ago you filled my belly, and we waited anxiously to meet you. And then, on a clear morning in early Spring, you were born, you "opened your door and came out" as Peregrine so nicely put it. We, of course, can't imagine life without our girl, who is quick to correct us it we call you little. You officially graduated to big girl status when you potty trained, which was a long, long time ago now, over a year. But somehow I never got around to writing you a letter last year, as your baby brother was born just a few days after your birthday. 

You've grown and changed so very much since I wrote you this letter two years ago. In many ways you are the same, only somehow more. More you, I suppose, more of the girl you are and the girl you're becoming. I'm so thankful God gave me a girl when He gave me you; youinspire me to be the kind of woman that I hope you become someday. I feel like I should understand you more, because I'm a girl too, when you dissolve into tears at the littlest thing. (Because to be truthful, I have moments when I do that too.) But when you do it, it puzzles me, and I don't really know what to do. I guess that's how Daddy feels when I cry over some little thing, but he's really good at just hugging me and holding me, and I need to remember that it's probably what you need to. Strong arms around you, somewhere to bury your sweet little face, and "something to wipe away your tears" as you often ask while sobbing. 

You're sandwiched in between two boys now, and you love them very much. Peregrine is your nearly constant playmate, and you spend much time enjoying each other. You have moments where you don't get along too, plenty of them, but really, you are great buddies. Peregrine, though, is so dominant, that I have to work hard to make sure you don't always live in his shadow. You don't seem to mind, really, but it's good sometimes to see you dancing in your own sunshine. You love your baby Raphael too, and are learning to be gentle with him. You like to stroke his face and hair and croon at him, just like a little mama. 

You love your daddy, and often ask me in the morning where he is. At night when he tucks you in he tells you stories that he pulls out of his head. They're pretty funny, some of them. He used to tell you about when you were born "in a swimming pool", and somehow he had you believing you drank orange juice that day! He often used to end your snugly story time by singing "You are my Sunshine". And that was it. You were Daddy's Sunshine, and if anyone else tried to sing that you would say "That's Daddy's song!" Daddy took you on a date recently, just you and him. You were quite pleased, and, true to your generous nature, came home with treats for the rest of us too. 

You love all things pink and purple and girly. No one taught you this; you just figured it out somehow.  It's fun for me to watch you develop your own interests in spite of the, uh, ratherboyish influence of your brother. You've recently begun to join me in the sewing room, holding pins, helping me feed fabric into the machine, just being with me. You like to help in the kitchen too, and for Christmas we gave you your own set of measuring cups and spoons, a rolling pin, and a cutting board. You were quite pleased, and liked to remind us that they're "real tools, not toys". I love to eavesdrop on you playing with your dolls, making little conversations between them, and singing the songs you make up in your head. For all your make believe play, though, you're very practical. I asked one day if one of your dolls was tired, or something along those lines, and you said "oh, mama, she's just a doll; she's not real." You often make us laugh with the things you say. 

Just recently you've become very interested in letters, and the things they spell. You ask me all the time things like "what does c--o-r-n-p-q-r-y spell?" And the other day you took me by surprise when you carefully wrote your name in wobbly letters, all by yourself! And then you told me that on your birthday, you know, since you were going to be four, that you would like to learn to read. And so today, we made letters and I showed you how the sounds make words. You seemed pretty pleased with that. I look forward to lots of learning together with you. 

My favorite thing about you though, Poppy Joy, is your generous and thoughtful heart. You are always thinking of ways to bless others, and that in itself is such a blessing. One day you had some stickers, and you wanted to make a birthday card for "the poor", so you proceeded to stick not one or two, but every single one of your stickers on a piece of paper. All that, to bless some nameless person you may have seen holding a sign on some street corner. And you do this sort of thing often, my dear; you lavish your love on others, with no thought for yourself. I pray that you will always be this way, knowing the joy of giving and sharing. 

Another thing I love about you is your simplicity. I think you're a minimalist at heart. It's something I want to be, but it's a real struggle; for you, though, it seems to come naturally. We were at a sale the other day where there was a lovely purple stuffed unicorn. You played lovingly with her, (for, of course, she was a her) and then you said something like "but I don't need another unicorn, because I already have one". When I asked you what you wanted to eat on your birthday, and really, I would have made almost any extravagant dish you asked for, you said you'd like oatmeal for breakfast and a fruit bar for snack. And for your special birthday evening, you wanted to play Candyland with all of us. I hope you are always satisfied with simplicity, content with what you have. It's a beautiful characteristic, my little love. Hold onto it, and you will know much joy in this life. 

You're changing so quickly, my Poppy Joy girl. Up until not too long ago, you still would come up to me and say "Mama, I want to hold you." It was one of those little phrases, with it's funny word order, that was so endearing, so you, that I couldn't correct it. Now, though, you say "I want to be with you, Mama". I love to be with you too. You are a joy to me and your Daddy. We pray that this year, this fifth year of your life, will be blessed, that you will grow in joy and love, that you will always know that you are loved.

Happy Birthday my girl. I love you so much.

Love, 

Your Mama

Four

After much anticipation,  and with plenty of  fanfare and celebration,  Alethea turned four yesterday! Somehow it sounds different to say I have a four year old. Four is just different than three. Here are a few pictures from her special day, soon to be followed, I hope, by a birthday letter. 

Seriously contemplating those cupcakes!

My mom and sister Alyssa made her this beautiful prairie girl outfit. Needless to say, she loves it! 

My other sister, Gloria, made her a lovely poppy garland. 

Erik and I gave her a treasure hunt, with this dollhouse at the end. (We found it on Craigslist in December, and were so excited to finally get to give it to her!) My parents gave her a tiny family of dolls for Christmas, and now they have a home. She is having so much fun with this, and I love to listen to her play.

She keeps saying "My dollhouse is the best thing Daddy every gave me!"

Every year I make her a "poppy dress". Here is The Poppy Dress #4. I really love how this one turned out. I've liked them all, but this one may be my favorite. I love how feminine and sweet it is, and the whimsical touch the bloomers add. You can see the rest of The Poppy Dresses here. 

Happy birthday my sweet, sweet Poppy! I love you my girl. 

Bad Hair Day

If you would have asked me yesterday, or oven two hours ago for that matter, if I would ever, ever write a blog post entitled Bad Hair Day, I would have said "no". Absolutely not, not about hair, not me. I just don't write about things like hair. I spend about 23 seconds a day on my own hair, and a little more on Poppy's. (On the days when I actually get around to doing her hair, that is. The days she doesn't look like a wild ragamuffin. My favorite style for her is french braids because I can leave them in for several days and not have to comb and style for a while.) The more maintenance free our hair can be the better, in my opinion. 

But I guess it happens once in most every little girl's lifetime: Botched Hair Cut at the Hand(s) of Little Girl and/or Sibling. I'm having a hard time getting the stories to match up, but I'm pretty sure in this case that it was helped along significantly, and quite likely instigated by, a certain to-be-left-unnamed Brother. (I will tell you though, that Raphael's skills are not yet developed to the level of cutting.) Poppy's hair was in pigtails today, two nice long-ish curly pigtails. Or piggy tails as she likes to call them. That's what she asked for yesterday when I did her hair. (Yes, they were left over from yesterday. Today is day two of the piggy tails: Ragamuffin Day.) It's still in piggy tails, but one of them is a lot shorter than the other. Looks like it's time for a haircut. 

So, you may ask, where was I when The Cutting happened? Ummm, well, I was looking something up on the computer. (Reason #211 why Mama should stay off the computer while children are up: Unsolicited Haircuts.) I'd been unpacking some boxes and putting items in a cabinet we've always referred to as "The Museum". (This was in my grandparents home for as long as I can remember and when they downsized we offered to give it a new home.) The kids were very interested for a while, and then they got the brilliant idea of setting up their own museum in Poppy's room. So off they went, and off I went to the computer. I wanted a little info on one of the items in The Museum, and that's when The Bad Hair Day began. 

This is all sort of humorous when I write it down, but it has a more serious side too. (Besides the naughtiness of kids that totally know better.) I find it difficult to be really present with my kids a lot of the time. By really present I mean undistracted, attentive, really listening and watching constantly. Now, this may or may not have happened if I wasn't on the computer, but beyond this incident, I feel like so often I'm engrossed in doing something or even just in my own thoughts that I tune out what the kids are doing or saying. Is this normal? Do any of you struggle with this too? 

I think one of the things I need to be doing more is tomato staking my kids, basically keeping them with me and involved in the things that need to be done. I know that when I've tried to do this it really does help, but it's hard to keep up with. Unsupervised roaming time inevitably ends in the two of them fighting or getting into some sort of mischief. If I even kept one of the two older ones with me at all times it would go a long way towards more peace in our home. Also, for this season of my life, I need to resign myself to not getting involved in projects of my own or getting on the computer unless they are down for their rest. It's what you might call asking for trouble. I really do need to work on being present.

Well, it's time for the children to be getting up. And time for me to get out that pair of hair cutting scissors.... I've got a hair cut to do! 

Talent

Have I ever told you how talented my children are? See for yourself, in this marvelous video clip that captures then in all their charm! Enjoy!

Don't send a lame eCard. Try JibJab Sendables!

Wordless Wednesday

Sleeping Beauty

(photograph by Erik)

And a quick update on the breast infection. I'm doing somewhat better, but the fever and chills are still coming and going. I have a little more energy but am still pretty wiped out. I have a call in to my doctor and am waiting to see what she thinks.  Thanks so much for your prayers! 

In Which a Girl Turns Three (Sort of)

On Saturday we celebrated the birth and first three years of our sweet girl's life. Even though her real birthday isn't until the 30th we wanted to have her party early so it didn't get pushed aside by the birth of the new baby. It was a special time, and we're so thankful for our little girl, who is getting bigger all the time. Happy Birthday Alethea! 

Time for presents!

Whenever I asked her what kind of cake she wanted the answer was simply "pink'! 

I love this picture of her that Erik took.

A rare picture of all of us together.

Happily pushing her babies around in her new stroller! 

(The last two pictures were taken my Erik's mom- thanks Michele!)

Alethea's Birth Day

        In honor of Alethea's birthday today I finally wrote the story of her entrance into the world.

        Spring had just begun; the air was clear and the first Poppies were in bloom. For nine months now we'd been eagerly looking forward to the birth of our second child and we knew the time was drawing near. I'd been having contractions for weeks but something about them had changed in the previous days and I hoped that it meant the time would come soon. I also knew those contractions could go on for more weeks and I tried not to get too anxious. But I was ready to meet our girl, ready to give myself to the labor of bringing her to the light. Peregrine would kiss the belly that had slowly edged him out of my lap and talk to his baby, encouraging her to "open her door and come out."

      Even though my due date was still a week away I would awaken each morning thinking that "today might be the day". By mid-afternoon I hoped it wouldn't be as I could really use a good night's sleep before going into labor! (Not that anyone can get a good night's sleep when you have a very active little person dancing in your belly.) By night-time I would fall into bed, exhausted, uncomfortable, and eager to meet this baby. We prayed daily for a safe and natural delivery with no complications, a healthy baby, and, as a bonus, that she would come early!

        I'd been awake for about an hour-and-a-half the previous night having contractions, some of which were actually painful. My Mom brought us a pan of enchiladas for dinner that evening and Peregrine asked me if we could get our baby soon. Soon, my boy, we hoped it would be soon. We went to bed and Erik and I cuddled and talked as usual. I had a few contractions that felt pretty strong before drifting off to sleep in my nest of pillows. I woke up around 11:15 and was surprised to have three hard contractions just a few minutes apart. I prayed that if this wasn't "the real thing" it would stop so I could get some rest! In answer to my prayer my water broke and I found myself nudging Erik and asking him to go get me a towel! It's amazing how quickly he changed gears from sound asleep to action in a matter of seconds. We got up and called my midwife and our parents. My Mom and Dad came over within a half hour. My contractions were about three minutes apart from the time my water broke and were already quite uncomfortable. I went in to Peregrine's room and, even though he was sleeping, explained that Dada and I were going to the hospital to get his baby and that Papa would stay with him. He looked so big, sleeping soundly, and it seemed like such a short time ago that he was the tiny baby we were waiting to meet.

        We left the house about 1AM and drove through the still night to the hospital. A few clouds drifted lazily in front of the bright moon. Settled into our room at the hospital the nurse checked me and said I was only at three centimeters. I think those may be some of the most depressing words a woman in labor can hear. Even though I knew better, there was my secret hope that I'd already be at six or seven and that this baby would be born soon. Erik's Mom, Michele, and my sister Alyssa and niece Jessamyn arrived a little later. Erik and I walked slowly through the hallways, stopping for me to breathe through contractions. I would put my arms around him and rest my head on his chest; he was like my rock, always there, strong, calm, loving me through the pain, in awe of the strength that God had given me to bring forth his daughter. My dear friend Paula drove down from Washington and got there a little after 3AM and not long after that my sister Gloria came too. I was surrounded by many of the people who love me best in this life; each one offering encouragement and prayer and strength as each contraction brought us closer to the moment of birth. They took turns walking with me, rubbing my feet, my back, my arms, reading Scripture and laughing together. I had new appreciation for my Mom who went through this five times, as she said she wished she could take every other contraction from me and share the work!

        The pain was becoming more intense and I wondered how much longer it would be. I tried to stay focused on the reward that was to come, thinking of tiny fingers and toes and soft hair. I tried to remember that each contraction was doing its job of bringing her down, down, until the moment came for me to push her out. Around 4 the nurse checked me again and said I was 5-6 centimeters but she wasn't sure so she called her supervisor to come check me again. Once again I felt very discouraged, as at Peregrine's birth that was where I got stuck for hours and hours. The contractions were coming hard and one after another and I didn't think I could last for too much longer. We'd prayed that things would progress normally this time and everyone spoke words of encouragement and strength to me. The head nurse came in and said I was actually at 8 centimeters! I knew that I was in transition and that it was normal to feel unable to cope. At that point Erik and I got into the tub where I planned to give birth. The warm water enveloped me and felt so good on my weary body. My contractions began to slow down, allowing me to rest a bit in between. I felt more able to relax in the water. The room was dim with a light shining on us, my large belly glowing and magnified beneath the water. Erik faced me, and even though we were surrounded by family and friends, I felt like it was just him and I. His love was strengthening me as he held me through each pain. In between contractions we looked into each other's eyes, our foreheads touching, and whispered "I love you".

        I remember at one point feeling like I couldn't bear another contraction. They gripped me and held me and I moaned and called on Jesus for help. I began to feel the urge to push, something that never happened in my first birth. My midwife sat at the edge of the tub, ready to help if needed, but mostly offering advice and encouraging me to push when I felt ready. I loved that about this birth: there was a privacy about being in the water, a sense that this was something I was doing, with Erik, and not something that was being done to me. My midwife suggested I change positions so I got up on my knees and leaned my arms on the edge of the tub. Another contraction, and another, and I knew my baby would soon be in my arms. I pushed with all the strength left in me. Erik was right there, ready to catch her: he said he could feel her hair and a tiny ear. Strength flooded me and I felt her little body move through and out of me, into her Daddy's waiting arms. He brought her up out of the water. She was the gift I gave to him and he gave to me as he gently handed me my daughter. Everyone began to praise God for this brand new life, this tiny person, all wet and purple and precious.

        Alethea Poppy Joy was born at 5:38 in the morning on March 30th, just six hours after my water had broken. God truly answered all our prayers; my labor was fast and normal and we had a perfectly healthy baby girl who was born six days early. Needless to say we were completely taken by this little one. Her skin was softer that anything I could imagine and smelled sweeter than honey. In the words of Peregrine she had dark "wispy wispy hair and sparkling eyes". My Dad brought him to meet her when she was just a few hours new. I heard him before he got to our room, his red rubber boots padding down the hallway. In he came, looking happy and expectant. He took one look at his baby sister, laid his head on her and said "hello!" She was pink and I called her a little Rosebud, tiny and soft and fragrant. Someone said that babies are a very nice way to start people and I'd have to agree. And if very nice babies become very nice people then we have much to look forward to.