Benjamin's Christmas bear from Grammy and Grandpa Wilson is bigger than he is.

It's been a whirlwind Christmas week for the growing Smith family.  It started off slow enough:  I probably spent about 7 hours packing everything and getting the house ready to leave for Christmas in east Texas.  But the fun parts went by too fast:  Christmas eve preparations, cooking and eating wonderful food, opening Benjamin's first Christmas stocking, and singing carols with family in Dallas. After Christmas weekend with JB's family and our little shopping sprees at Half-Price Books and Central Market, we came home and had our family Christmas around the tree, opening gifts and enjoying a cheese course we put together at Central Market. We are sad that we couldn't spend Christmas with both sides of the family this year, but we had fun opening packages from the Wilson side.  

The next morning Ellen and Heidi arrived to visit for a few days--they've both moved away, but I'm so glad that they still have reason to visit Waco.  Once again, the extra hands were helpful for holding Benjamin and keeping him happy.  I enjoyed being able to spend some uninterrupted time in the kitchen making curry and scones and roasting vegetables.  Thanks guys!  Everyone except Benjamin liked the curry, but that's another story.  

Yesterday after nursing Benjamin, I put him in his crib to watch his mobile (which he LOVES right now) and found myself with a few extra minutes to sit in my chair to read.  I read a little bit, but I kept looking up to watch him play.  I enjoyed contemplating how far we'd come with Benjamin and how he's grown in the last few months.  He's 11 weeks, and it seems like all of a sudden I woke up this week to a new baby.  All of the issues we seemed to have early on have melted away (new ones to come, I'm sure), and the baby is happy.  He can spend time on his own flailing his limbs at the mobile in his crib, he eats and sleeps on a fairly predictable schedule, he is filling out nicely, and he has big smiles for me every time I change his diaper. 

After thinking about this it was nice to turn to essays in a collection by Alan Jacobs that my dad got me for Christmas.  In the introduction he talks about how the essay, with its "humble mutability of tone," is the perfect form for capturing how our experiences interrupt and change our thinking.  An essay may start out with specific idea, but in the process of writing, the writer may realize that what she has learned or experienced as she writes is more interesting than the original idea she meant to write about.  

Virginia Woolf captures this effect in A Room of One's Own.  She recalls walking the grounds at Oxbridge, an all male school at the time, thinking about a talk she was to give on "women and fiction."  All at once the ideas start flowing in her mind and her body responds by carrying her faster and faster right off of the path and across the lawn.  When a Fellow at the university stops to scold her for walking across the lawn--which is reserved for Fellows and Scholars--she loses the train of her original thought, but she finds this experience of having her thoughts interrupted for being an outsider an interesting illustration of interruption as a theme relevant to "women and fiction."    

I connected with this as I tried to read and found myself looking over the top of my book to watch my baby play.  I started out thinking I could curl up to read like I used to in grad school, but found my interest divided:  the baby and the book were equally appealing to my attention.  So I let my mind wander back and forth between the two for a while.  And I realized that I am just a different person than I was six months ago when I was working in such a focused and single-minded way on my dissertation. My mind is divided--for now--and my reading habits (and teaching preparations!) will have to adjust to this new reality.  And this makes me very happy.  

And now for those smile pictures I've been promising.  I couldn't resist doing another little series.  

grandmas, great-grandma, great-great grandma

Well, Benjamin doesn't actually have a living great-great grandma, but we now have a Christmas tree ornament that she made.  After mom read my last post I received a package in the mail with all sorts of Christmas nostalgia for my tree--some of it more embarrassing than others.  I'm told that I thought this bulb, made by Grammy Bowden lo so many years ago, the most beautiful thing in the world when I was a little girl.  Hmmm...

Apparently I liked to play with the pins, pulling them in and out.  What a nerd.  Anyway...

I just received another Grammy Bowden ornament in the mail from Aunt Kathy, but I haven't gotten a chance to take a picture yet.  I love this about blogging.  People read my posts and then respond!  Aunt Kathy and I would probably never have had a conversation about this, but now because of this blog, I have a happier and more story-filled tree.  Thanks everyone!

On the left are some new ornaments I made a few weeks ago out of cinnamon, applesauce, and glue. Probably not going to last generations, but fun to make.

Now moving backward to grandparents and great-grandparents.  Benjamin's birth means new labels for family members, and I'm having fun putting together our new extended family based on these new relationships.  And I think those involved are having fun too. Here are the new grandparents all together for the first time with baby Benjamin, about a week before Thanksgiving:

One of the primary reasons we went away for Thanksgiving this year was for Benjamin to meet his great-grandmother, Midge, JB's grandmother on his father's side.  She is very special to JB, so it was very important that she get to meet Benjamin as soon as possible.  Before he was born she helped us think about names and she always has wonderful stories to tell about the family of which Benjamin is now a member.  Midge has become a grandmother to me too. 

Next time I have to post a picture of Benjamin's smile--I can't wait to get it on camera.  

For all those in the north on this beautiful December day...

It must have been about 75 degrees here today, so our family spent most of the day outside:  putting up Christmas lights, visiting with neighbors, and reading in the sun.  Benjamin was SO happy laying on  a blanket in the shade with the breeze blowing over his face.  But stringing Christmas lights and getting our tree in this kind of weather still seems wrong to me.   

Starting a family and owning a house has made JB and I do some pretty conventional things these days, and now we can add Christmas traditions to the list.  After staring at the rows of Christmas ornaments at Home depot today after we bought our tree, I just couldn't bring myself to buy anything.  Christmas ornaments when we were growing up were all connected to memories, which seems better to me than anything Martha Stewart could come up with, no matter how ugly the handmade ornaments, no matter how garish the ornament I picked out for my very own when I was ten.  

And yes, mom, I am thinking particularly of the ritual hanging of "old ugly" at the back of the tree.  Old ugly is an unfortunate paper-mache-gone-wrong, mis-shapen yellow bulb covered sparsely with glitter that someone (mom?) made in second grade.  JB and I have a few ornaments we received as wedding gifts, and we did buy a few starter bulbs, but I think making Christmas ornaments is something I will look forward to doing with Benjamin when he is older.  Of course, to really resist convention we could do a palm Christmas tree like the Smith side of the family...

 I love this picture of Benjamin and Brazos in the grass.  Kind of dreamy isn't it?  

Six week portrait

He's looking a little less like a newborn and more like a baby, isn't he?  We're so proud of him (and grateful!) for sleeping for an 8 hour stretch last night.  Now if only we can get those 8 hours to be the same 8 hours that JB and I are asleep....  

Other little accomplishments to note:  I observed his first giggle and smile at one of his 5am feedings this week.  Definitely made being up at 5am worth it.   Also, he likes to scoot across the floor on his tummy! Not on his own, of course, but when I put my hands behind his feet, he pushes off and scoots all the way forward.  Here he is in action at his grandmommy and grand-dad's house:  

Please ignore all of the dirty stocking feet in the background of this picture.  

More to come from visits to and from both sets of grandparents and meeting his great-grandmother for the first time.  An obscene number of pictures were taken, as my readers can well imagine.  

the awkward stage

Caring for a new baby has been awkward enough for the first few weeks.  If you have ever tried to clothe, feed, and/or bathe a newborn, you know what awkward is.  Now I'm getting the hang of these things, but am faced with a new challenge:  getting out.  Getting out of the house with a baby--with all of the self-consciousness this entails and the piles of STUFF inevitably needed--represents a new level of awkwardness.  Which is why I mostly stayed home for almost three weeks.

Amy to the rescue!

Before my friend Amy came to visit, JB and I had gone out with the baby together a few times, but I had not actually driven the car with the baby on board.  So when Amy got here, she said, "Let's make sure we get out every day."  Every day?!  

That's just what we did.  We figured out the sling wrap and went for a long walk in the park; we took him out to the World Hunger Relief Farm for Farm day; we took turns holding the baby through a wonderful art exhibit; we took the baby when we went out to eat.  I even had the confidence to bring the baby out to an art exhibit and lecture all by myself the day after she left.  He started squeaking a bit half-way through the lecture, so I took him out, but overall it was a successful trip--I felt proud of myself and my baby.  

Benjamin in moby wrap at The Farm with Christy the midwife

I was especially proud when I considered the awkwardness of the museum outing a few days before. As I was wandering around with the baby in my arms looking for a place to nurse, I decided I needed to use the restroom.  How on earth I am supposed to do that without a place to put the baby down?  Let's just say it can be done. As though that weren't enough, when he started crying in the gallery I took him out so quickly that I forgot the diaper bag. I finally found an empty theatre in which to nurse him, all the while hoping that I wouldn't regret not having a burp cloth.  

I returned to the gallery wondering why I had ever taken him out of the house to begin with, but then Benjamin fell asleep in my arms (and then Amy's arms) and I got to spend a wonderful half hour looking at the work of Georges Rouault.  And Amy and I even got to have a conversation about it!  My mind expanded beyond the immediate concerns of my child and I felt--for a moment--the transcendence of being surrounded by beauty and knowing it deeply.  Beautiful art, beautiful child and friend.    

And sometimes for all of his beauty, he is also a bit funny looking:  

Happy one month birthday Benjamin!   

Eyes wide open

I guess we're doing something right.  Benjamin has gained 19 ounces since his first check-up two weeks ago:  13 ounces above his birth weight.  I've feel like nursing him has been my primary occupation for the last two weeks, so this is gratifying. We've not only kept him alive for almost three weeks, the child has grown!

I snapped this picture during one of his few waking moments this afternoon.  It's nearly 8pm and he's sleeping soundly again.  I wonder what this will mean for us tonight?  The only time he doesn't seem to want to sleep is between 9 and midnight, precisely when JB and I are most tired and in need of sleep.

The following faces were made right after I put the finishing touches on some of David Lebovitz's potato -leek soup.  With homemade artisan bread.  The perfect ending to a cold, rainy fall day.

Benjamin made his first appearance in church this week and slept through the whole three hour ordeal.  We have felt loved by folks at church the last few weeks as they've brought meals and dropped by for visits and offered lots of help.  But it was fun to introduce Benjamin to the special experience that is Hope Fellowship on Sunday morning.  Our church house is still bursting at the seams as we continue to grow in number, but for a year or two at least Benjamin will add more to the noise than the space.  

In other news, this week I decided to teach a class at Baylor again next semester.  The English department must have called at a time when I was feeling particularly stir-crazy because I accepted the job eagerly and right away.  This job--I need to remind myself--is the same that two years ago I was all too eager to take a break from for a while.  But two years later I am even tempted to take on two classes.   I'm only teaching one class, but I think Benjamin will ultimately benefit from having a mother who goes out into the adult world for a few hours a week and does what her education has prepared her to do.  

Benjamin Henry Smith

On Tuesday evening, October 12, JB and I finally took our tour of the labor and delivery wing at Providence hospital where I would (we thought) be giving birth in a mere three weeks.  As the nurse showed us around the delivery room, we asked our questions and mooned around thinking three weeks seemed so near, so far.  Back at home, JB finished waxing the wood floors in the baby room, and I went to bed thinking about how much our child could still grow in the next three weeks.  And then at 5 am the next morning I felt the first indications that Benjamin would not be waiting three more weeks.  For the next four hours my body and his were in negotiations from which my conscious mind was excluded, but by 9am we were pretty sure he was coming.

In birthing class we joked about the woman in one of the videos we watched who went out and bought a washing machine during early labor.  But really, the first few hours of labor were quite pleasant.  I got some baby clothes laundered, the kitchen cleaned, the hospital bag packed, and JB made us breakfast.  By late afternoon, Christy came by to check me, and labor started to be not-so-pleasant.  She went home to take a nap, and JB helped me through increasingly difficult contractions. On the way to the hospital at around midnight, the familiar lights of Waco Drive looked so strange--maybe it was the pain, maybe the new reality of motherhood I was beginning.

Christy and JB were by my side from midnight until Benjamin was born at 7am.  They coached me and held me and reminded me to breathe.  They supported me when I lost hope and decided I needed pain relief and rejoiced with me when I was ready to push before the doctor even arrived to administer the pain meds.  The joy and amazement in their voices as Benjamin emerged got me through the last pushes, and Benjamin was born at 6:58 in the morning, just as the sun was starting to rise over Waco.  

And now, ten days later (and still almost two weeks from his due date), Benjamin is feeding well and sleeping a lot and starting to explore the world with his big blue eyes.  I know he is only supposed to be able to see 8-10 inches in front of his face and only in black and white at this point, but still, he looks curious and definitely seems to recognize his mother and father.  And he hiccups.  A lot.  

For his one week birthday, we took him for an outing to Cameron park.  I was also getting a bit stir-crazy and needed to get out of the house.  

You wouldn't know it from these pictures, but his eyes do open.  I don't think I have any good pictures of that yet.  So here's one Benjamin with my other blue-eyed man, sitting on the porch swing:  their favorite place to be together.  

Lake Waco Wetlands

With four weeks to go, JB, Brazos, and I took an early fall trip out to the Lake Waco Wetlands on Monday morning.  JB had the day off, the weather couldn't be better, and we were curious to see what the wetlands were like after having been drained over the summer and partially burned to promote diversity in new growth.  The cattails still looked to be taking over to me, but it was still quite peaceful and beautiful.

We saw the great blue heron nests from a distance and had fun imagining bringing the baby with us in his backpack carrier on our next trip out there.  It was great to put aside our normal routines and spend a peaceful morning outside together mentally preparing for the baby's arrival.  We also wanted to see if we could find some more photos of the wetlands for the baby's room but the education building wasn't open.  So far we have a great one of some dragonflies that JB got as part of a project at work, but we'd like a few more to complete the wetlands theme.  Maybe grandma Wilson would like to draw or paint something for the baby room too??

I'm writing about being outside like it was a novelty, as though I hadn't just spent the whole weekend at a women's retreat in the country.  The women of Hope Fellowship retreated to Clifton with Enuma Okoro to lead us in times of worship, reflection, and sharing together.  I knew it was going to be a great retreat when we started off sharing about ourselves through works of art and I got to reflect on a Matisse painting (the one with the red women dancing in a circle).  One of the best parts of the weekend was sharing a room with my midwife!  I feel so blessed that my midwife is also my friend:  someone with whom I share a church (we sit together as "musician widows" when our husbands are playing music for worship), eat meals, and exchange book recommendations.  Christy is right by all of her patients' sides throughout labor and delivery, but I feel like she has been with me in a special way already throughout the pregnancy, exulting with me as I grow and reassuring me through the less glamorous symptoms.  Knowing one's midwife or doctor is not necessary nor even possible for most women, but I am thankful for the special joy it has brought to my pregnancy.

...and a party for the Lands.

JB and I finally got to host Hope Fellowship and folks from the Farm at our house last night.  We first got to know the Lands when they lived at the World Hunger Relief Farm, but they've also become part of the life of our church in the last year, and now they are going away--moving to Bolivia to work with MCC for three years.  I have been so thankful for Sarah's willingness to talk to me about everything regarding childbirth and her openness about raising her own young children.  And now she won't even be here when our baby is born!  Sadness.  

We celebrated their new adventure with dessert and music on the back porch.  I hope that our house will always be a place where people can come together to play music.

And here are some beautiful women responding to Michelle's (on the right) exciting news--she and Matt have been chosen as adoptive parents for a pair of brothers!  They've been in adoption limbo for so long, and now they'll be new parents before our baby is even born.  Wow.  What an answer to prayer.

baby shower

Bethany, these clothes appear to be for a ... BABY!  The look of incredulity on JB's face here is just wonderful, isn't it?  No, we are not getting married again--this shower is for our baby who is due to be born in less than five weeks now.  Our new friend Kelly (Hi Kelly!) was kind enough to take pictures for our Hope Fellowship baby shower a few weeks ago.

The pre-school age children find it easier than we do to accept pregnancy and childbirth.  (And as the picture shows, they were very eager to help us open gifts.)  My encounters with 3-5 year olds during my pregnancy have been surprisingly profound.  They are just tall enough that they have to look up and over my belly to talk to me, and more than one of them has put her hands on my belly and said with a look of utter seriousness, "You are going to have a baby."  They ask questions like, "Can I see it?"  "When is your baby going to come out?"  "Why can't I see it?" When I tell them the baby is inside and is not big enough to come out yet, they stare up at me with a look of wonder that I can only describe as having some glimmer of memory.  They are, after all, not so very far removed from the womb themselves.  I guess I don't mean that they literally remember being in the womb, but they seem to understand or accept pregnancy and childbirth on an intuitive level that I have never perceived in my conversations with adults.  Whatever there is to this, I have very much enjoyed my interactions with children as a pregnant lady.  Hard to fathom that our son will be that age himself some day.

5 weeks to go

I've been nesting in the kitchen this morning.  JB came home at lunch to find about five different things going:  a fresh batch of yogurt, banana bread, apple sauce, and some polenta and tomato stuff I made for lunch.  I think I was inspired by the sub-60 degree morning we had here in central Texas.  Like a late-August morning in New York--just glorious.  We spent some time outside and got a few pictures of me with five weeks left to go before our son arrives.

I told Christy, our midwife, this week that I was starting to feel the symptoms of late pregnancy and she responded, "Finally!"  I've so far been able to enjoy all of the wonderful parts of pregnancy--the baby kicking and maybe even some hiccups--without the negative parts.  But now the swollen ankles, sleep disruption, fatigue, heartburn, and difficulty sitting for a long period or walking with any speed have all arrived.

On to prepare for a teaching on the parable of the unforgiving servant I'm giving in a couple of weeks, but I'll leave with a picture that shows how excited Brazos is about her new best friend coming into the world in a mere five weeks.

texas garden

JB has been REALLY into native Texas plants lately.  As we were sitting in the living room at the end of his lunch break the other day, he picked up the native plant book on the coffee table and started looking through it.   "I find it relaxing to read about native plants, don't you?" he says.  I had to laugh because I had never thought of it as relaxing per se.  In fact, I find it downright overwhelming.  With my limited knowledge of native plants, they all look about the same to me and I couldn't tell the difference between a salvia and a sage.  

Ok, JB just read this post over my shoulder and informed me that a salvia IS a sage.   ANYWAY.  A salvia and a muhly then.  Whatever.  

I am now, however, a native plant convert for a number of reasons.  On a practical level, they are great because they flourish in the texas climate (i.e. extreme heat and no rain for two months in the summer) without a lot of extra watering.  Also, I have learned to appreciate their somewhat scrubby aesthetic, especially when the grasses are mixed with the desert plants and other flowering plants.  But planting with native species is also about having a sense of place--about appreciating where you live for what it is and not trying to make it look like somewhere else.  Texas is really nothing like England, so why try to plant an English garden?  This is a difficult transition to make for a yankee like me who enjoys maple trees and water-loving plants, but gaining an appreciation for cenizo, pictured above, also known as texas sage, has really been quite satisfying.  Of course, all of this native plant business has nothing to do with good ole Texas pride...

And here is JB in the first stages of turning the front bed into a native Texas garden.  If the previous owners of our house ever find this blog, I hope they are not too horrified that we are digging up most of what they planted.  We are re-planting all of those bulbs in the backyard, Rebecca!  

skill swap

My friend Barbara and I traded skills last week. She taught me how to make yogurt, and I taught her how to make a big batch of artisan bread. So now I have a whole gallon of yummy homemade yogurt. I like just eating it with sliced peaches. JB likes it with muesli in the mornings. I need a recipe for muesli--it's just too expensive to buy on a regular basis.

JB also figured out how to make Greek yogurt out of this by straining out the whey. It reduces the volume by about half, but it is so rich and delicious. Especially when combined with another of our current projects: the bee hive nucleus.

Well, it's our current project to work our way through eating it. JB's college friend owns a honey business in Round Rock (Round Rock Honey), and for his 40th birthday (his own, not JB's) he gave us this hive nucleus just bursting with fresh honey on the comb. He's also the one who gave us a bee HIVE for our wedding. What can we possibly give Konrad for JB's 40th birthday?? We have basil in our garden...ummm...maybe some of my artisan bread:

This is actually the "skill" that I shared with Barbara. Considering I just follow a recipe, this should not really count as a skill perhaps, but she seems impressed. It is really easy and good and uses 100% whole wheat flour. JB says he could eat it every day. What should I learn how to make next?

The creek

I managed to get a few pictures of our unspectacular little creek before melting this afternoon.

I'm going to ask JB to write a post about all of the ideas he has for the creek and the surrounding land. When our lunch or dinner conversations start with JB saying, "So I've been thinking about the western annex..." I know that the imaginative militia in his brain has been winning against the daily siege of practical considerations. I want to say, "Maybe we should work on work on actually getting the land first..." or "Maybe we should finish getting ready for the baby first." But what about an irrigation system! A nature trail! A community garden! A bridge! A tree house! An owl house! Maybe it just takes me a little longer to adjust to new ideas. If even one of them worked out, it would be pretty cool.

The Waco Creek is probably running well after the good, soaking thunderstorm we just had. Maybe the "cool" front that it brought with it will make it more likely that I'll walk down to the creek for a picture. The picture in this blog's header is not--surprise--our humble creek but a lily pond at Mohonk, a state park in eastern NY. For now, the Texas heat drags on and I am happy to envision our burgeoning little creek from the comfort of our air-conditioned living room.

Our lives right now consist of a lot of waiting and ummm...nesting. The nesting instinct, which is totally real, has kicked in for both of us. Which makes sense for me since I have the time to be doing things like re-painting the baby room, replacing light fixtures, and looking askance at the dirt collecting on the base boards. But JB is nesting too even though he is working a full time and a teaching a class at Baylor. He spent labor day with our generous (and hungry!) friend Allan steaming off wallpaper and has his sights on re-finishing the wood floor in the baby room for an October project--as in four weeks before the baby is due to be born.

But we're also reading, writing, and refusing to succumb completely to baby brain. I just finished a wonderful novel by David Mitchell--Cloud Atlas (2004). What a fun novel to read! He takes on six different genres, six time periods, and six main characters in six plot lines (each with its own distinct narrative voice) woven together loosely but convincingly (for the most part). Maybe I'll write more about this novel's particular delights in the near future, but little Rosco is kicking and I need a nap.