I have been battling with him for a few days now to EAT HIS STINKIN' MEALS as mommy ordained them. And in his high chair, without whining.
We are starting to move from jarred food to real food that I cook or prepare.
Needless to say, I "didn't feel like dealing with it tonight" (it's Friday darnit and I want to go home and enjoy my night!) so I stopped at Giant and picked up a jar of sweet potatoes and turkey.
I thought he would be happy he didn't have to pick up anything with his fingers and just be spoon fed like he's used to, but yet, he still battled me pushing the spoon away from his mouth as it slopped all over himself.
Thank goodness it was bath night.
After a few of mommy's best tricks I finally got him to eat. THE WHOLE JAR. I had started with cut-up kiwi on his tray, which he promptly denied, and after my tricks pursued, and worked, he devoured the sweet potatoes and kiwi as well.
Ah, sweet peace from the silence of an eating boy.
After his bath and a little play he let me rock him to sleep, holding him like a baby - though that he is - with a handmade quilt over him, that was crafted in love by one of the sweetest souls I know. The moment echoed joy.
As I sat there cradling my quilted baby, rocking him back and forth on this Friday night in the dark, with only a glimmer of the night lights across the way looking in, I thought about all the memories instilled in our home. In that room. Ones that we made, and throughout our house, within our walls.
And I said some prayers - praising Him for the comfort He has bestowed, the blessings He has given, and the memories we have made here. For our lives.
It was...peace and perfection.
I thought about never being able to look out that window in my rocking chair again - at the lights outside across the way. And never being able to hear the OP High School band playing on Friday nights.
Oh...we're moving.
As annoyed as I am by the trains that constantly pass through our "backyard" and the dogs barking in the lot below, and the trash dump making banging noises, this is our home. And that room will always be Levi's first.
It's where we slept. And didn't sleep. It's where we play all day. Where he learned to sit and crawl and stand, and roll over.
I miss it already.
But, bright days are ahead also.
Our house on Windsor will have yards, a garage, a patio (with grilling out opportunities), a bigger play area for Levi.
But though it will have all that, it is older. And I feel (not Isaac), it is a little smaller.
I'm ok with it though. We give a little, we get a little.
One of the main reasons I wrote a post tonight was to tell you why July is my favorite month, like I promised.
I know you all were on the edge of your seats.
It's really nothing extraordinary to tell, other than these reasons:
Isaac's birthday
Our Wedding Anniversary
Fourth of July - my favorite holiday
Dead of summer, dead of year
Silence and peace and quiet and slow
Something about July rings peace, relaxation, and joy to me.
And I love wearing tank tops on the brink of a sweat.
Three of my favorite holidays are in this month. There's a lot to celebrate. And they all mean a lot.
For some reason, also, I can't find many recognizable events happening in July (other than the Fourth) or crazy significant markings.
And that's what I love about it.
It seems like it's just a month dedicated to slowing down, regrouping, breathing, doing nothing. And celebrating America on top of it.
Here are a few shots of our Fourth this year. PS - I think I may have caught one firework out of the corner of my eye while I was rocking Levi to sleep at 9'o clock in my sister's living room.
Since Isaac's beat is right near my sister's house, he always stops in for a plate when we eat over there. (I love it how Levi always puts his finger in his mouth).
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