Nine Months.
Sunday was Gracie’s Nine-Month-O-Versary, as we call it in the Majack household, and yesterday was her nine month well child appointment. She’s up to 19 pounds and is 28.25 inches long. I could have sworn she was at least 20…maybe even 21…she feels SO heavy!!! Must be the heat.
She has two visible teeth: The Rogue Canine she got a couple months back and then a Conforming Central Incisor that popped out a couple weeks ago. Sharp. Very sharp.
She doesn’t crawl yet and, in fact, she doesn’t even scoot! I should probably be more anxious for her to develop these skills, but frankly, it’s less work for me when she’s content to just sit and play with her toys. She is showing some pre-crawling behaviors, so I think maybe she’s gearing up for the big event.
Paul and I see bits and pieces of each of us in her. One moment she is so much like Paul and the next she’s a miniature Catrina. It’s amazing.
Well, here’s an example. Doesn’t she look exactly like her mother?
Um. Yep. That’s our child.
Happy Nine-Month-O-Versary Pumpkin!
July 25, 1959.
It has been 50 years since Peggy Jean Gallagher was informed by her physician that she was about to give birth. Yes, informed. And indeed, it was the day: William Anthony Gallagher, Jr., came into the world.
The world has never been the same since.
What a perplexing and amazing man! I really don’t know anyone quite like him. He’s got some kind of magic hands, and he can stir 16 pots all at once. I don’t know how he does it. It’s magic.
He’s got all this information crammed into his head and if you need to know something, he can draw a picture that will help explain it. Somehow, he turns rocket science into a meatloaf recipe.
He’s a Bulldog. And a Grampa Brown Bear. Depending on which side of the fence you’re standing on and which side of the fence you’re supposed to be standing on. He works very hard to take care of and protect his family.
He’s my dad, and it’s his 50th birthday today.
Happy Birthday, Dad. We love you and we miss you and we think you are some kind of magic!
Love,
Paul, Catrina, & Grace.
Who Cooks at Your House?
Who cooks at your house? At our home, Catrina is the primary chef, though there are some meals that seem to require a man’s touch. Anything having to do with the barbecue is Paul’s domain, and he is a good king.
Last night was too hot to cook indoors. Paul saved the day by creating a delicious dinner of barbecue chicken, corn on the cob, and summer time tomatoes topped with mayo, salt, & pepper. A simple and scrumptious meal that we enjoyed till the last bite!
It was a great treat. Not only because the food was delicious, but because I got a night off and didn’t have to cook in the 206 degree weather! Thank you Paul!
Who cooks at your house? What is your best recipe?
Nevada.
It has been a couple of very busy weeks and we feel full. After spending a few days in Montana with my parents, we flew down to Nevada to celebrate the life of Great Grandma Imo.
Though paired with a loss, our time with family was wonderful! We have a great tribe!
Gracie got her first baby pool thanks to Aunt Sherry. Under the hot Nevada sun, Grace seemed to really enjoy the opportunity to splash and play and cool off! All, of course, under the very watchful eyes of Mommy and The Cousins, Brandon & Robert. What amazing young men they have become!
We spent lots of time with The Matriarch, Grandma Peggy, who is so fun to be with. She loves her family and takes care of everybody. She turned sweet 72 on Tuesday! Happy Birthday Grandma!
And our update wouldn’t be complete without mentioning the newest addition to our family: The Truck.
Yes, Paul has been initiated into that special brotherhood identified only by their ownership of a pick-up. New or old, bench seat or bucket, it doesn’t matter…he drives a truck and grows hair on his chest.
I owned a truck once, but believe me, it’s not the same. Thank goodness. Hair on my chest would scare the baby.
Mommy Vs. The State (1953)
I picked up a copy of Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 at a garage sale the other day. I’ve never read it, though Paul informs me that I must have done some serious hoop jumping to have escaped high school without skimming it’s classic pages.
Here’s a quote that struck me hard enough to call for the highlighter:
“Heredity and environment are funny things. You can’t rid yourselves of all the odd ducks in just a few years. The home environment can undo a lot you try to do at school. That’s why we’ve lowered the kindergarten age year after year until now we’re almost snatching them from the cradle.”
It strikes me as strangely telling. Full-day kindergarten, “jump start” programs, pre-school, after-school programs and full time daycare available to those as young as newborns paired with a culture full of parents more than willing to abdicate their roles (heck, sometimes downright fleeing their roles), turning their children over at such incredibly early ages to the far more qualified experts for socialization, nurturing, and education…because, as we all know, parents are so inadequate when it comes to the needs of their own children.
What philosophy, ideology, worldview, religious view, view of self, view of family, view of life do you want your little one to hold onto?
Will he or she develop that particular ideology in the environment he spends most of his time in, whether a classroom or home?
Are you the primary sculptor when it comes to your child’s mind? Or have you given that job to someone else?
How do you know it’s you?
Woo hoo! I like thought provoking fiction.
Who She Sees.
My Great Grandma Imo isn’t hurting or sad or hungry or weary. She’s not sick or forgetful. Her eyes are more clear than they’ve ever been.
Last night, she escaped the relentless tick-tock of human time and the physical world that ever onward crumbles toward dust.
This morning I’m awed by one fact: that a woman can be one instant living in her borrowed body and the next moment be face to face with Glorious Beautiful Terrifying Absolute Truth.
She sees the One who made her hands, both fragile and strong, constructing every little bone and joint. He knew when she used them to caress a cheek and when she used them to point a finger.
She sees the One who knew how many hairs were on her head, second by second. He knew which hairs accidentally ended up in her Orange Chiffon Cake.
She sees the One who ordained all her days and was unsurprised by how she used any of them.
She sees the One who could pay the just penalty for all of her sins, and did. She sees the One whom she believed in and put her faith in and repented to. She sees clearly the enormous difference between a Holy God and a simple sinner, and she is filled with joy because she sees Him who is her only hope. She sees the One who died for her so that she could live with Him today. This very minute.
Oh, what a glorious day it must be for Imo Florene Patterson. Imo Jean. Momma. Grandma Imo.
I am happy for her and jealous. Content to live and love while my days are here, I look forward to that blissful terrifying wonderful moment when I too can see the face of all my faith and hope.
She sees Christ.
