Our Little Watson Family

"It's still surreal to come home and be handed a real live little being with wide eyes and a wriggling body and little hands that grab onto my shirt." He'd just gotten in from work and stood in the kitchen holding Arabella as he leaned against the counter and smiled at me, then looked back at our baby - wonder and glowy love in his eyes.
They told me marriage would grow a person, and it has.  Grown me if only to see the areas I want to grow in, and how looking like Christ is a long way off. It's expanded my heart, seeing the way my husband loves our baby and how he patiently forgives and displays God's love for me when sometimes it'd be easy to dish back the wrong he's been given.  But at the end of a day when I've been moody or stressed, or down right snappy, I've found him perched at the end of the bed, motioning upward with his thumb for me to pick up my feet so he could slide a towel under and massage them.  Many times in the past year I've shaken my head with wonder, puzzling over why I don't get what I deserve, because this fellow is above and beyond anything I ever could.
Then there's Arabella.  At a little over a month she is beginning to coo and smile and every morning that I wake up to her, I have to put out a finger to touch her little self and make sure she's real.
Motherhood seemed like such a mystery from the outside, veiled to all but the ones who were inside its experience. Anne Shirley saw a similar veil surrounding marriage, and when Diana was on the brink of it, the evidence of it being Strange and Incomprehensible to Anne was all too obvious in Diana's dreamy distance to All Things Present But Fred Wright.
But Motherhood, as it was with marriage, slips onto a body like a shirt, and once in it, there seems to be nothing more normal and natural and uncurious about it than to BE it. To be married is simply the most unstrange thing.

The first year of marriage and the first month of raising a baby have come and gone quietly.  My heart is full to the brim. People have said and keep saying "treasure this time…they grow up so fast". We know it. We've watched her change every day - wrinkly hands and feet growing softer and more cushiony, thin lips growing into plumper pink ones.  Her round, swollen face growing less puffy and more oval, how she begins to follow our voice with her eyes - now turning her head - now she's turning over from stomach to side - now she is growing rolls on her arms and legs and is heavier to pick up from the bed - growing oh so much. And HOW do I treasure it - besides taking as much of it in as possible and feeling my heart 'plum swoll up t'bustin'? When people say it, I wonder if they mean "Stop time and ensure you let this phase soak in completely. When you're done being amazed by it, move on". Of course, they're not saying that. It's impossible to think any phase WILL soak in completely. I must settle for existing in a state of blissful wonder. The only way I've found to "ease the ache of joy", and help my heart expand a little more, is to thank God.  Every time she nurses, every time we sleep, every time she smiles, every time it enters my head throughout the day to do so - thanking Him for something incredible and priceless...for growing my heart to hold the joys He gives, for growing my marriage a whole year, for growing our family and our awe for Him.

"Arabella, do you know your daddy loves you? He loves you so much, darlin'.  In fact, did you know that you are my favorite baby in the whole world? There's lots of babies in the world, Bella Rose, but none of'm are as sweet to me as you."  JB walked the room with her and once again I realized life is made of "these small hours".

What Mama Says About Mama-ing

It was tradition that every night Mama or Daddy, or both would sit on the bed or lie down with us and tell us a story or sing, and pray.  They'd pray for us to have good thoughts and good dreams and a good night's rest.  After that, we knew we must lie quietly and even if we couldn't sleep, Mama would tell us to "close your eyes at least, and rest them".  Of course, this meant falling asleep almost as soon as we thought we couldn't.  Anna Grace and I shared a room until I was nineteen, so from the time I can remember, we learned what sharing meant and without meaning to, we shared so many memories and windows of history together that we can go back now to almost any of them and look out those windows, smiling and often shaking our heads in amusement at what we see. This window I step back to look through views our room one night. She was two, and I was four, and Mama lay between us in the dim light, humming.  I liked to lay my head on her chest and listen to her voice from the inside. It was softer than daddy's, and more musical.  Mama's voice and the rise and fall of her chest made me drowsy with a comfort so thorough within, that I've often gazed through that window of time, and others like it, relishing the sweetness of moments like those. Mama wore a purple silk robe, and I stroked it over and over. Surely, there must not be anything in the world as soft and nice as that purple robe, nor so fine, I thought. She paused in her singing and guided Anna Grace's and my hands to her belly, which was several months pregnant.
"Keep your hand here and be still," she said.  In a moment we could feel a twitch from the inside and Mama explained that it was the baby, kicking. How puzzled and impatient I was!
"Why must we wait to meet the baby? Why does it stay in the belly?"  I smoothed out the ruffles of curiosity by stroking that purple robe and soon mama's singing and the gentle rocking of her intonation as she prayed, left me curled up in comfort and sound asleep.

What is so strange to comprehend now, is that I am a Mama.  I am the one with a baby in there, and I still find myself amazed, if not disbelieving. It's one thing to go from single to married, but from married to baby? Grandmama has told me so many times, "I still feel seventeen inside. When I look at the mirror and see such a wrinkled old face, I almost want to laugh! What is that old woman doing in there?" More and more I'm understanding her. I still feel like that seventeen year old too. Even younger than that, sometimes.  What am I doing with a baby? Girls much younger than I have raised babies and started families, but somehow that fact doesn't seem to matter. Self doubt slides in from the narrow cracks, if I let it.  Recently I was at an appointment for the baby, and they asked when I'd first felt the baby kick.  Couldn't say. Really just couldn't remember the first time…was it 12 weeks or 15? I felt ashamed and irresponsible, and wanted to cry. So I got home, called mama, and did just that. And you know what? She laughed at me. Actually laughed at me and said,
 "Hun, that doesn't even matter. What in the world are you feeling bad over that for?" Then she set me straight. "Having kids isn't something you go into being an expert at. You learn with each one."
"But what if I don't love it enough?" And, as unreasonable as it sounds, I've honestly questioned that.
"You will. It's built in.  You may not know how much you love it now, but you've already begun to love it. I didn't know I had such a bond with the babies I was carrying until I lost them, and then it was like a piece of my heart was torn out.  Now you're just worrying. So don't do it. The way God designed things is that when that baby gets here, you'll love it and it'll keep you company, and you'll figure out how to be a Mama. Won't even have to figure it out, really. It just comes to you."

One day a couple of months ago, I felt that fear of "what if I'm not a good mama" creeping up the back of my neck and I stopped it there.  I said to myself (because I do talk to myself),
 "You know, G?  If God puts a baby in your life, or a child, or a person, it's not because you can't do what you're supposed to with it.  He puts those people or children or babies in your life because He's already equipped you to deal with them, and to fulfill what they need from you. So, there's no use fretting that you're not the right person. You are. And that's why you're where you are, with the people and kids and babies you have in your life, Right Now."

Since then, I've felt more of a peace and a joy spreading over me - and I suppose simply the freedom to enjoy this journey. There are so many gifts to motherhood, and it's humbling to know God's allowing me to be a part of that. Sometimes my eyes get shiny from being 'eat up with the sweetness. JB coming home from work and talking to the baby, his head right up again the bump, and both of us feeling the little kicks and turns of that miracle inside.
"Baby," he says, "This is your daddy, and I love you.  I love your mama too, and we're so glad you're our baby.  We're going to meet you soon, and then we'll  hold you and get to look at you, Little Watson."

 I'm thankful. Thankful for a husband who loves God, and loves his baby and me. I'm thankful for a mama who will laugh at me when I need it, and will straighten out my overanalyzed thoughts. I'm thankful for a baby to raise, and love and learn from.  And I'm thankful God has already given me what I need to do it, by Golly.

 These small hours are the ones that count. 

Real Talk…not letting life crowd your space

 
     There are boxes, papers - just STUFF, everywhere. We happily eat our food on the couch, and when we feel fancy, pull up a folding chair for a make - shift coffee table. {We have an sweet little table given to us by wonderful friends, but it we use that for special occasions, until we get the rest of the house up to par.}

Dishes are perpetually in the sink and then there's our closets. Good Granny's Ghost. They tear me up inside, chock full- stuffed full of who knows what that we can't or won't or haven't gotten rid of. 

I wonder how I'll ever get the gusto and gumption it takes to convert this house into a home. Where does one start? I feel like I'm madly paddling from one task to the next, and getting nowhere. Well, at least I'm madly paddling in my mind, but then again, here I am sitting in my pajamas at 11.30 in the morning.

abe's gift to us from Haiti. you sweet thing, you. 

Yet, I remember that Mama did it. She moved 3000 miles away from home, and lived in a basement. She had her first child and made her house a home. But HOW?  

I believe my life for the next few months will be me sorting through this question and recalling everything I can from living with Mama…How has she done it? And then learning how to do it myself, little by little. 

JB reminded me of something yesterday that I needed to hear.  I was fighting his suggestion of going to swim.

"I already have SO MUCH TO DO…look at our house!" And then I listed off 10 things I needed to do that day. But he said calmly,

"Darlin', I know you need to do all that, but there will always be Something Else to do; you gotta make time for what's important.  The rest of your time will be crowded in with everything else." 

And he is right. Life crowds in the spaces where we don't block it off and say "No Sir! Not here! This is time for X,Y,Z." Those blocks of time should be things that help you achieve what you really want to be, and that help you be you, and me be me. I mean, paint your nails, put on a little lipstick. Take time to fix your hair…Make time to do the things that will help you grow into the person you want to be…Whether that's a good cook, seamstress, healthy person, reader of books or writer - ya gotta do it every day. 

So cook every day, or write or read or exercise, sew or exercise every day. 

Mama says, "Don't put off til' tomorrow the person you want to be in 10 years. You start today.

My home and life? They're not together. But by doing a little every day, I'll see it come together eventually. Daddy says, "give yourself time. You may not see progress in a day or a week or a month; but in 6 months or a year you'll be able to look back and see where you've grown."
So today, I'm going to swim. Then take a shower and get into some nice clothes that make me feel feminine and lovely. I'm going to fix my hair, look through my Better Homes and Gardens Cookbook {thank you sis. Frances!}, take some time to do some real Heart to Hearting with God and am going to paint my nails gold with the polish I stole from Dawn this Christmas. Little bit by little bit. Here a little and there a little, and we'll see progress eventually. 

Also, I'm challenging myself  to find things to be thankful for, {Thank you, Rebekah Guess}.

Today, I'm thankful for Mama's buttermilk biscuits and her strawberry jam that made it home on the plane without cracking.

And I'm thankful for this girl, who's challenged me this week, as well as hugely encouraged me. Thank you Beka…You're such a beautiful person - inside and out.  And I love taking your pictures, even though you hate me taking them :-) 

Happy Friday, y'all. And happy Growing,

-g

Mama's Words... my own thoughts, and the state of the blog.

I've found it amusing when people ask, "So how was your trip home?…", or "How are you enjoying being home? What is it like?" ... Dear people. I love them to the hilt, but I never can decide how to answer. My verbal thoughts point blank would be along the lines of, "Home…feel…how do I feel…well…uh, you mean this burning of my throat? the heaviness inside and feeling of choking? The sudden bursts of crying - and then wondering why I'm doing that at all, because I'm so ridiculously happy being married to my amazing man…? That's how I feel."
But of course, you don't say that. I reply in terms that can be understood "Great! Good to see everyone. Sure - kind of strange after such a big change."
Every bride who's moved from a wonderful home has felt a little this way, I think.
 It's been two months - two wonderful months that I've been married. Two months of discovering how much laughter, pleasure, sweetness, mixtures of joy and sorrow, adventure, comforting companionship and beauty there is in marriage. Two months of change. Two months of unpacking, meeting new people, seeing new places, figuring out how to thrive 1200 miles and 20 hours away from what I've always known as home.  I feel raw. Raw from change. It's unrealistic to say I don't miss home; but I also see, plain as day that I've been given the beautiful beginnings of a home, a family, a new life.

She was sitting across from me at the booth. I'd had a lump in my throat all week. Now was my last day home, and Mama had set aside some time for "Real Talk". She was saying,
"...Sort of like what I've said, 'Don't wait for normal,' well,  Don't wait for tomorrow to settle your home and make it what you want. Another big thing to remember is that we are not promised tomorrow. You have to Endeavor today.




These two months I've gone back and read every scrap of advice I could find from Mama and others, but especially Mama.
"It's time to get your hammer'n nails out and get busy.  Get busy on what you can do."
So here's to a new phase of life, and doing what I can, today.

This morning I heard the sink running, plates and pots clanging. JB was washing my three day pile up of dirty dishes. I've been blessed. No matter what, I've already been blessed.
A man like that comes straight from the windows of heaven.

Mama and Abe

i know our cats just gotta wonder sometimes.

our band, of one night in which Abrum played his favorite Ranchero music, and we three girls danced around for half an hour, then followed Abe outside with yips and howls.  

yes, law. Mama's peach cobbler. 

JB, my Man. 

my gift and husband and best friend.

{While this blog will remain mostly for entries concerning Stories of the Grey Submarine, I will, as I have been wont to do in the past, enter my own thoughts and updates, when the notion takes me.}