gina prescott

Max is now 7 months. It’s really unfair actually the way these babies grow up. I mean one minute they fit in the cradle of your arm and then next they are quickly crawling over to the movies and pulling them all out one by one (after of course taking a nibble on a select few).

He is army crawling like a champ and up on his knees rocking trying to figure out knee-hand coordination…a tough thing I would think. Oh, then he does some mountain climbers for good measure. On top of him trying to get into everything he finally has teeth. Two to be exact.

His two bottom teeth decided to pop out at the same time one day. He was hardly fussy, just wanted some cold applesauce. Then today after a friend commented on his hair I realized….HE HAS MORE HAIR!

When you are around your baby it is hard to see the slight changes and then suddenly I realized he is getting more hair, it’s filling out. I am not sure how I feel about it since there isn’t much you can do with a little boy’s hair except peak it into a faux hawk which I do on occasion when I’m feeling a bit crazy but mostly I like his side part which he will forever have because of an unfortunate (or possibly fortunate…)cowlick right by his right temple.

So my baby is growing up and I had a good sigh over it and went to play hearts on the computer while Papa gave him a bath and got him ready for bed. When I came in for scripture reading and prayer his whole face lit up with sheer joy/excitement/happiness/supreme utter bliss. Oh it was the best face, one that likely will never be caught on camera but the face said, “THERE YOU ARE FAVORITE MAMA OF MINE! I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU AND NOW YOU ARE HERE AND OH JOY I CAN HAVE SOME MILK!!!”

I love this little babe of mine. I love that he still cuddles me and sometimes gets so excited he bends into the crook of my neck. I love that he will still fall asleep on me, his breaths getting heavier by the second. I love our 5am feedings, pulling him out of his crib and into my arms, as he feeds we both relax. Sometimes I doze and sometimes I cherish the moments he will still let me stroke his face and kiss his velvet rosy cheeks. I hold his hand and kiss his chubby fingers.

I even fluff his hair.

Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow, Isaiah. 1:18

I glanced at the watch on my wrist. 4:44 am.

Max was crying, stirring from his slumber thirsty for some snuggles and okay mostly milk from his mama. I wandered out of my room into his noting that the light in the living room was still on.

My in-laws were here for a visit this weekend and they were occupying our living room, sprawled out on the couch, a blow-up mattress, and a hunting cot my father-in-law brought for himself. I could hear my father-in-law snoring and as I sat and nursed and rocked my baby I wondered why the light was on.

I figured they had all fallen asleep with it still on and so I decided to wander into a mine field of sleeping persons to turn it off after laying my babe back in his crib.

Only it turns out someone was awake. My sister-in-law, an 8-year-old with spunk and a bossiness that comes from not having any siblings at home was sitting on the couch wipes her nose.

“Oh…you’re awake. Are you alright?” I asked.
“My nose is bleeding.” She responded grogily, still heavy from sleep. She pulled her hand away and I saw a smearing of blood across her face and on her hand and on my couch and…..I sighed.

“Come here and I will clean you up.” We walked to the bathroom where I stopped the bleeding and washing the blood that was caked to her face and hair and hands. Then I decided to tackle the blood stain on my couch. After all blood is not something you want to let sit and settle.

Our couch is not a prized possession, in fact it was given to us by a church leader who needed to empty out a storage unit. He had a deadline and we needed a couch. It was a win-win. It is an olive green couch and I actually adore it. You sink in and never want to get up. That’s my kinda couch.

I wanted to save the couch from looking like a crime scene and so I traced my memory for stain removal. For some reason I used to think warm water was the key. For some things it is. But it has to be like boiling lava hot water. Plus couches are tricky since you can’t really put them into the washing machine. I remembered that cold water is magic for stains so I wet a rag and got to scrubbing. With my mother and father-in-law sleeping away right next to me. I gently rubbed and slowly the blood started to come out until you couldn’t see it any longer. I was glad my memory served me well and after checking with my young sister-in-law to make sure she was alright and stopping the blood flow one more time I turned off the light and went back to bed.

Except I wanted to make certain that cold water was the right thing. So I grabbed my phone letting the bright LED screen blind me momentarily. I searched, “remove blood stains” and saw that I was correct and in fact if I had used hot water I would have permanently set in the stain. PHEW! Glad my 5am brain was working.

Then I couldn’t get Isaiah 1:18 out of my head. Sins are like blood stains, scarlet and quick to set in forever. The Savior through his atonement can remove those blood stains with living water. Now I don’t imagine living water was ever boiling lava hot. In fact when I imagine it, it is like being so thirsty and being given a nice cool glass of water that perfectly quenches your thirst. But sometimes we don’t think clearly and when we see someone we love sinning, we forcefully hand them a mug of hot water. “Drink it!” we order. We try to force feed the atonement by pouring the scalding water down their throat. Well of course this isn’t received well and usually that person we love is scarred and the blood stain of sin sets in, nearly impossible to remove.

I woke Kyle to tell him my thoughts and he responded with a sleepy, “that’s cool…”

I am a middle child. In my opinion, being a middle child is not so good for developing and maintaining friendships. At least being the middle child in between boys. I grew up learning how to entertain myself. Reading, playing pretend in the backyard, and playing barbies were largely solitary acts.

Do you remember in grade school how ranking your best friends became very important. We would rush around recess asking our friends where we stood in their mind. The goal obviously was to be number one to your number one. When people asked me who my number one was I always felt bad, I remember seeing sad faces if I named a particular person so I started saying my own name. I would get goofy looks and then in my very wise third grade mind would explain that I was my best friend. Then I would proceed to name who my number two was…..

Brittni entered my life around first grade but it wasn’t until third or fourth grade that we really started to click and our friendship flourished. My adolesence is jam packed with memories on her grandpa’s dairy farm and acting crazy at camp. We started to choose different paths in life and it caused a pretty big rift for awhile. But we still cared immensly for each other. She is one person who I have been able to maintain a fairly strong relationship with over the years.

I bring this up because recently I had the chance to visit with some dear high school friends of mine. Our relationships had drifted considerably since we graduated despite going to college in the same city (and for one at the same college).

I let our relationships go. I declare sole responsibility. I sabotage friendships. I can’t handle when life makes big changes and when it does my mode of adaptation is to let go of the old and grab hold of the new. I tried doing this with Brittni when I was going to middle school. I came over to her house and sat her down and we had a talk about how I was going to be a mature sixth grader and I couldn’t be friends with an elementary school kid. She cried and then I felt bad and realized it was kinda silly. I am glad Brittni didn’t let me destroy our friendship.

So I kinda stink at frienships because I grew up being used to hanging out with myself. I definitely crave friendship but often times I am extremely content to sit and read or surf rather than to call a friend over. Both are great, one requires more effort.

Being able to visit with my old high school friends I was so excited to realize that it’s harder to destroy friendships than one might think. Beyond the time past hangs powerful memories of laughter and giggles which is always stronger.

I am grateful for a husband who is ultimately my best friend. I am glad he is there to go through every life change with me. He is my constant no matter where life may take me. I am grateful to have had him through the change from high school to college from apathy towards God to religious zeal.

I hope you do good to maintain your friendships. They are such precious things that are often too easily let go.

I was at Joann Fabrics the other day. Buying some PUL fabric. It’s a fabric that is used for cloth diapers, wetbags (what you throw a dirty cloth diaper in to keep the ickiness in), and probably some other things. I was buying it to make a wetbag since the ones I had found to purchase were $15 and I had found a tutorial online that would let me make three for $10 I was going ahead with making my own.

A lady in line asked me what the fabric was for and when I explained that I use cloth diapers she then asked, “Do you do that because it’s the “green” thing?”

I laughed because as much as green is in style (and arguably good for the environment) it was not why I cloth diaper. I cloth diaper because it is INFINITELY cheaper. In fact I have gotten even greener and made my own cloth wipes. I was washing diapers anyway, why not throw some cloth wipes in instead of having to separate it all.

I also make all of Max’s baby food. Again, I do this because it’s cheaper. It’s also not hard. I make a big batch and put it in an ice cube tray and then put them in plastic bags in the freezer. I just plop two in the microwave for about 30 seconds and we are good to go. I also usually add some rice cereal to thicken and provide extra vitamins and such.

So being green is actually cheaper and I mean look at that baby in the cloth diaper. Being green is also CUTER!

I have felt a bit lost lately.

My day revolves around a 17 lb bundle of joy. Feed him, change him, play with him, make sure he doesn’t pull the portable heater on top of his head. I work out at the YMCA for about 40 minutes a day (if I manage to make it there and if Bubba decides to cooperate for the childcare).

I relish in those minutes where I can run, zumba, do pushups.

That’s my problem. As much as I enjoy working out, I don’t consider it a passion. It doesn’t fuel my soul. I need soul fuel. Everyone does. And everyone’s looks different. I’m still not quite positive what my soul fuel is but I want to find it.

So I am sewing ( I made a wetbag (with help), diaper pail liner, bowtie, and am currently in the process of making cloth wipes) Ok so those sewing projects still revolve around a 17lb baby. But still I said it’s progress.

I also bought some hot pink jeans at Value Village (I couldn’t bring myself to actually spend more than $10 on a pair of hot pink pants). It definitely helped.

I think Max is finally actually cutting a tooth. I figured this out because he cannot seem to nap longer than 30 minutes where he usually naps an hour or more. No variable has changed so I have to assume. I was grumbling about this to myself. You see naps are vital to a mother. They are an oasis. So when the naps are 30 minutes I get a bit…irked.

You’re not supposed to be irked at your baby for not napping properly are you?

It’s bad etiquette or something.

But then something lovely happened yesterday. Max woke from a nap and I went to get him, I had been watching a movie so we returned to the movie watching and he would lay his head on my chest for a few minutes and then perk up, lay his head down and then perk up. This went on for a good ten minutes or so when I realized he hadn’t perked up in a bit. He fell asleep on me!

This happens a lot when they are newborns but I have noticed it becomes increasingly rare to feel the warm nuzzle of your baby under your chin. I relished in the moment (which lasted an hour!) slightly cursing myself for putting the couch pillow out of reach so that I could be a little more comfortable. Didn’t matter though because his warm body breathed methodically against mine. T’was heaven.

On another note I was cornered at the market by two older ladies yesterday. I saw them oogling at Max from a distance and near the bread they planned an attack trapping me between two display cases of artisan bread and sparkling juices coming at me from both sides. They cooed and told me how precious and beautiful Max was. I couldn’t agree with them more! They told me to cherish every moment because soon he will be in kindergarten, etc, etc.

Some people hate getting bombarded but I don’t mind. In fact it makes me chuckle. I don’t mindn that they grab his hands and pinch his cheeks (okay the pinching hasn’t occured) because I get joy from seeing that my little babe brings others joy. I mean he is like human sunshine to me so if I can spread that light around to others who might be lonely or having a bad day. I count that as a bonus perk to having a baby in my book!

I didn’t even mind them telling me to not take for granted my precious babe. They are well meant words and a good reminder for anyone. Although it’s inevitable that I will take for granted these precious times in my life, for a moment they remind me to send a prayer of thanks to God, for my baby and the sheer joy he brings to my everyday.

Taken right before I found out I was pregnant with Max