Baby

Me and Leah (age 7 months)

Yesterday I babysat a little 8-month-old baby girl, Addie. Leah was napping while I babysat, so I had plenty of arms and attention to give this cute little baby. It was fun.

As I fed Addie a bottle, she slowly closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. I just held her while she slept.

That's when I realized that it had been a long time since a baby had drifted off to sleep in my arms...in the middle of the day...with Lainy playing on the floor next to us.

Then I started noticing other things about my baby that have slipped away without me realizing it. Addie is all chubby and soft. Leah, these days, is all muscle (Probably because she has figured out how to climb on top of every previously-out-of-reach surface in our house... and does it every time I'm not looking.)

There were other differences too. Little things that left me feeling all sorts of nostalgia and wondering if I had treasured my baby enough while she was still a baby. It goes so fast.

Then Leah woke up.

At first she was thrilled to have Addie around. She smiled and said "Hieee". She sat by her and shared her toys. She was very sweet.

Then Addie crawled over to me wanting to be held. I picked her up as Leah watched carefully. As soon as Addie was in my lap, Leah came running over screaming, "Noooo!" She tried to pull my arms off Addie. She tried to climb in my lap too. She turned into a very jealous, grumpy little baby.

Leah insisted on me holding her until Addie left. Then she breathed a big sigh of relief and promptly went into the kitchen and climbed on top of the table.

The message was clear: Leah still wants to be the baby...sometimes. And that's okay with me!

Me and Leah (age 16 months)

Windermere Cup

Saturday we went to the Windermere Cup Regatta - a rowing competition here in Seattle. The races are held on the Montlake Cut, which is a canal of water between Union Bay and Portage Bay. It's a pretty big deal. Apparently it's one of the most celebrated rowing competitions in the world.

The teams competing this year were: The University of Washington, Stanford, Oklahoma, and Cambridge. Yes, Cambridge. (And who knew Oklahoma had a rowing team? Wonder where they train...)

We walked over to the cut on the trails along Union Bay. So we got to see all the yacht's lining up along the course...

And the actual Montlake Cut...

And finally, the finish line and Portage Bay.

It was pretty awesome. What made it even better is UW swept their races. Go Huskies!

Scraped Knees

Leah fell down the other day and scraped her knee. This is not necessarily a new occurrence around our house (Brad calls her the clumsy adventurer) but it was the first cut deep enough to bleed. She might have a tiny scar.

Brad and I mourned that our perfect little baby no longer has a perfect little body. Like most parents, I think, we mourn each little cut and scrape and bruise our girls get. They are inevitable, but we wish we could spare them the pain.

The night after Leah scraped her knee, I spoke with my friend Joanna. She is currently at Seattle Children's Hospital with her adorable 2-year-old daughter. Her daughter has cancer. A bad kind.

Most of the time I try not to put myself in Joanna's shoes. Partly because it's painful and partly because she doesn't need my pity. She needs all the hope I can give her.

But that night as we talked, I couldn't help but make comparisons. Joanna told me about some recent tests the doctors have done on her daughter. The tests are supposed to tell them how well her cancer treatments are working. After they get the results, the doctors will decide if they can do surgery. Surgery would be good because it means that the tumors are small enough to remove. Joanna is hoping for surgery. In a way, she's hoping for scars.

I finished talking with Joanna and went into my room and cried.

Because it didn't seem fair that a few hours earlier I had been mourning over my baby's scraped knees.

Sometimes I wish I lived in a bubble and didn't have to hear about the sad and painful and unbearably hard things people go through.

But most of the time I'm grateful. Not for their suffering, but for what I've learned from them. I've seen seemingly simple people go through incredibly difficult things with grace, strength, and humility. I'm grateful for the opportunities I have had to help them even though anything I do feels small and insignificant.

I'm grateful for my incredibly blessed life. I know that someday it will be my turn to go through difficult things. I hope I can do it with the grace and humility that I have witnessed in others.

I think this is the key:

"Fear not, little flock; do good; let earth and hell combine against you , for if you are built upon my rock, they cannot prevail.

Look unto me in every thought; doubt not, fear not.

Behold the wounds which pierced my side, and also the prints of the nails in my hands and feet; be faithful, keep my commandments, and ye shall inherit the kingdom of heaven"
(Doctrine and Covenants 6:34-37)