At 5:55pm on a Wednesday afternoon, Livia can get anything her little heart desires. Right now she’s sitting on the computer desk, facing me and giving me a good dose of saliva by munching away at my Medic Alert necklace. What ever you want, child… Whatever you want. Daddy will be home soon.
Some days…
Dear Livia,
Yesterday I took your mobile down. I suppose I could’ve picked a better time to do it than when you laid down for your afternoon nap. When I removed the colorful characters from above your head you looked at me like, What are you doing, crazy lady? Don’t you know I NEED that? I had to fight the sentimental feelings (the same ones I’m fighting now as I write this letter) because I do want you to get bigger and I do want you to grow older, even though I say I don’t. Right now your future is mine, and I am excited for each day. And for this moment, the sweet mobile is put away until another Tredway baby arrives or until a little Lawton is born. Feel free to safely stand up in your crib, should the desire seize you, whenever the time is right.
I imagine you’ll be pulling yourself upright soon since you began standing a few short weeks ago. As you stood at our coffeetable—the same one your grandfather scooted around generations ago—your little legs shook, your hands tightly clasped the tabletop, and your eyes shone with pride. It was adorable and it was an answer to prayer; I was just hoping you’d master a new technique before we went in for your 9 month checkup. No crawling as of yet, though you are choosing to tolerate tummy time a little more now. The jury is out as to whether you’ll walk or crawl first. Either way we’re going to have to clean the floors much better than we do now! My hearts about stops when you choke on a Cheerio or when I imagine you putting small objects in your mouth. Motherhood is full of potential worries like that!
Livia, you now have a full blown personality, complete with a mini temper and a joyful soul. You laugh with pure glee at funny images like Daddy twirling in the kitchen and at invisible images that only reside in your mind. You bounce and kick your legs with happy vigor when something fancies you. On the other hand, you’ve shown an amazing flair for drama (like your Mom, sigh) when you burst into tears after a toy’s been taken away. I first noticed this ability at WalMart. You had been sucking on a C.D. case (it was either Disney’s Greatest, Volume 1, or Derek Webb’s She Must and Shall Go Free, I can’t remember which) when the album fell into the shopping cart. Unsure of whether you should’ve been mouthing the potentially germ-infested article in the first place, I chose to ignore the mishap and then guess what happened? You, my normally contented and complacent child, burst into tears like someone had pinched your hand hard! I was momentarily stunned and on reflex almost reached down to retrieve your “toy.” I quickly stopped myself, afterall I didn’t want you to suck on the C.D., but you really surprised me! The tears looked so genuine and so intense, not at all this fake whining that I see in some babies. Anyhow, a new side of you has emerged and I, the mother who loves you incredibly, am fully enjoying it.
Your dad and I still sit and watch you for entertainment. Whether you’re blowing spit bubbles and babbling loudly or whether you’re sucking your fingers and pulling on your hair while being rocked to sleep, we simply adore you. You are ours and we praise God for you.
Love always,
Mama
I want to post something new and witty, something fun for you all to read, but I just can’t squeak anything out today. So it’s comment time once again.
What is one website (blog, news, etc) you visit daily? If it’s already been listed, leave another one.
Why today qualifies as a fun day:
Man, they should’ve just paid this guy the 8.5 mill he requested! What a story, though. Can you imagine wandering through a grocery store, looking for a bloody mary mix, and stumbling across your mug on a coffee jar label? Granted, he had done the model shoot in 1986, but that is some time ago now…
This leads me to my lone modeling experience (discounting the time Charity and I performed on the catwalk in our prom dresses for the Lincoln Christian Women’s Club, that is). During my teen years I posed on my back deck for an artist. Holding corncobs and cornstalks, I wore a button-down blouse, pinafore and straw hat in imitation of a farmgirl from some day of old. My hair was long and wavy (permed) and I didn’t have to pose for long. The artist, a friend from Covenant Presbyterian, snapped photos and drew a gorgeous picture from them. I was paid around $40 for my “work”. The result, my friends, is that my face, or rather, the artist’s rendition of my face, graces an “a-maizing” corn snack called Glad Corn!
It gives me a kick to walk into a store and see my resemblance on the Glad Corn bags. And it takes every ounce of energy in my being to keep from bragging like a five year old to the cashier, “See! This is ME!” My favorite story in all this comes from Sarah Baker who attended a Campus Life event in Colorado. In her gift bag was a snack-sized bag of Gladcorn and she proceeded to show it off to her disbelieving friends, working hard to convince them that she did indeed know the girl on the bag.
Alright. I’m done with the show-and-tell. As with birthdays, we adults don’t get to “brag” as much as we should. So here ya go. If you have something you’re proud of and that you’d just love to brag about, go right ahead. I’m your listening ear.
Happy Birthday to my big brother Adam! Today he turns (cough, cough) 29? Or maybe the Big 3-0? However old he is, ‘cuz I’m not tellin’, happy birthday to the best big brudder anywhere. This photo was taken at a lunch at Lazlos restaurant celebrating Livia’s baptism. We all look happy because we all were happy. Nothing says Smile! like a glass of Lazlos best ale and the most amazing baby ever to grace this planet.
Speaking of Lazlos… Thanks to Charity for snapping this moment from dinner last Friday. Livia looks so funny sitting between Jeremy and me at the table. She’s contentedly gnawing away at a spoon. Good times.
When news of this case first broke, I purposefully tuned it out. For some reason, though, I have read every local newspaper article on the case in court. And every time I read an article I felt brokenhearted over the senseless death of this little boy, outraged by the behaviors of his mother, and angered by the ramifications of meth use. I keep looking for a way to temper my frustration, but find none. Christian’s death was horrendous, sad and despicable — and I’m not certain his life was any better considering the scrupulousness of his caretakers.
I want to rant and rave. I wonder what is wrong with these people and how a mother could trap her toddler in a room alone for two days. I want to lock her in a room without food, left in her own excrement, kept away from all human touch and see how she benefits from such treatment. I want to burn up all the meth labs in Lincoln, Nebraska, and create some sort of magic pill to cure all those already addicted.
I want to have compassion. I want to heal Brandy Blair from the tremendous pain she must be experiencing. I want to give her some guidance, share a meal, show some love for this mama, only 23 years old. I want to bring Christian back and give him a life full of mudpies and cuddles, laughter and popsicles.
I am not in a position to carry out justice in this case. And I am not in a position to heal, redeem or raise the dead. There is righteous anger — and only God can demonstrate it absolutely fairly. There is a Redeemer, too. One who can give purpose, joy, restoration to a convicted killer. And you know what He can do as well? Raise the dead to new life. I find great comfort in trusting a God who can perfectly deal justice while perfectly redeeming the humble. Thank you, Jesus Christ.
Still, I weep for Christian.
What is the…
Here we go, folks. The Oscar nominations were announced this morning and it looks like I either need to go to the movies a lot more or I should just forget about the whole thing. I haven’t seen any of the Best Picture nominees, and yes, my head is hanging low in shame. For a complete listing of nominations, go here.
For those of you who have seen The Aviator, is it really all that good? Eleven nominations… Reminds me of Return of the King from last year, which of course I thought was deserving of every Oscar it won.
One more thing. I’m wondering how nominations work for Best Music (Song). I understand it has to be a new, original piece of music, but honestly, it seems like Andrew Lloyd Weber whipped out “Learn to Be Lonely” just to win an Oscar. The moment I heard the buzz about ALW’s new song and how Minnie Driver sang it and how it was played on Phantom’s credits, well, I knew it was fodder for the Oscars. Bleh.
I look at this picture and think, God is good! Jeremy and I waited to be parents. Mom and Dad waited to be grandparents. And here we are today, happily raising one Livia Tredway, praising God for allowing us this privilege.
**Thanks, Dad, for snapping this photo!