Blog - emily p. freeman -

i’m not a baby, i’m a big girl…night, night

I’ve been worried about it for over a year now. I’ve read segments in several books on ideas about how to do it. I’ve had endless conversations with my mommy friends about their experiences. I’ve talked with professionals.

I’ve even prayed about it.

And then last night, just before I was ready to tuck her in and say goodnight she very clearly and precisely said “Mommy, I don’t want to use my paci anymore. It has hair on it.”

Seeing as how we’ve had false starts in the past, my response was not the gushing of “What a big girl you are!!” followed by an immediate trip to the trashcan that you might expect. Besides, where was the screaming and gnashing of teeth that I’ve heard tell about? Where were the tricks? The “lets tie paci to a balloon string for the babies in the sky”? The paci fairy? The sleepless nights? The bribes and promises of rewards to come?

Instead, I looked at her with raised eyebrows and said, “Well, are you sure?” And she responded that yes, she was sure…and she took her lovey that I handed to her and happily sent me away, paci in hand, dumbfounded.

That was last night. And today, with a little bit of prodding and a lot of cuddling, her sister decided to do the same thing. Tearful yet determined. I can relate.

Because I am finding myself to be strangely tearful over the decision my girls have made. As freeing as it is for me, I just wonder how can these little girls be old enough to make a decision like this? To me, it’s just a paci. But to them, its a friend. A comfort. A companion in the night. Where is the motivation to give that up (besides the polly pocket cars I got them at Target)?

And just like that, this day that marks our sixth year of marriage and the anniversary of my Grandpa’s death has also become the day that our twin girls grow up a little bit more…and teach their mommy a thing or two about letting go.

Jesus, desitin and a callaway hat

Trusting Jesus to live in and through me can’t be simply a declaration of what I believe to be true…it has to have hands and feet. Sometimes my faith has to risk getting dirty and being…ordinary. That simply happens in the everyday, living life things.

Today, Jesus wears nikes and a callaway golf hat in Gulfport, MS.

Or a white t-shirt and a pony-tail in Charlotte, NC…and “Christ IN you, the hope of glory” becomes a reality and not just a verse. Because where is Jesus’ influence on earth if not through us? How else do we “life out” the life of Christ if not through our everyday, mundane tasks? But even those things take strength and energy, sometimes more than the big things. I am thankful that He doesn’t just give me strength, He IS my strength.

So, The Man helps lead a group of 100+ new friends in Hurricane Katrina relief work in Gulfport and gladly enters into potentially awkward conversations with students he just met.

And I pack up clothes to finish out the last leg of our vacation, put desitin on a diaper rash that just won’t go away and plan meals for when he comes home next week.

Not because I am capable, not because he is confident, but because we are His.

made to worship

Praise the Lord, O my soul. O Lord my God, you are very great;
you are clothed with splendor and majesty.
He wraps himself in light as with a garment;
he stretches out the heavens like a tent and lays the beams of his upper chambers on their waters.
He makes the clouds his chariot and rides on the wings of the wind.
He set the earth on its foundations; it can never be moved.
The moon marks off the seasons, and the sun knows when to go down.
May the glory of the Lord endure forever;
May the Lord rejoice in his works.
I will sing to the Lord all my life;
I will sing praise to my God as long as I live.
May my meditation be pleasing to him, as I rejoice in the Lord.
Praise the Lord, O my soul.
Praise the Lord.

from psalm 104

the un-birthday

When the girls turned one, it was a big day. Their birthday fell on a Sunday and we had them dedicated at church that morning complete with family from out of town, a big lunch at our house afterwards, lots of presents and most of all, each girl got her own cake: one was chocolate and the other was vanilla.

Our baby turned one last Friday. His cake was put in the grocery bag upside down. You can imagine the damage. I was sad for a moment, but then later my sister fixed it and I didn’t feel quite as guilty. Not that it was exactly my fault that his cake had a hole in it, and not that it was even that big of a deal in and of itself. It simply represented sort of how this birthday was for him. We are out of town, away from home and our normal routine.

He has presents, but they remain unopened as of today. He did have a piece of cake, and got all messy, but he was so tired that he went to bed early that night. I know, he’s only one. He won’t remember. True. Still, I rue the day he sees the pictures from his sisters’ first birthday. Oh well. Happy Birthday, baby.

from oblivious to loser in 2 seconds flat

Why is it that you can be walking along, minding your own business, waiting for your vanilla latte in line at Starbucks, pleasantly unaware of your own shortcomings and insecurities…until you look slightly up and to the left and there is Katie Holmes standing next to you and all of a sudden, you feel like a loser. The “you” in the story is, of course, me. Several years ago (before Tom Cruise but after “Dawson’s Creek”) I was shoulder to shoulder with Katie Holmes in the starbucks of the Charlotte airport. Actually, it was more like my shoulder to her elbow. I remember wishing I hadn’t worn flip flops…they only give me about 1/2 inch on my 5 foot 3 inch height.

Standing next to her, I felt short and very unfamous. I spent the next 35 minutes before my plane boarded half-stalking her to her gate (it was only half-stalking because her gate was right next to mine…otherwise it would have been full-fledged-crazy-darting-behind-trashcans stalking). And I wasn’t even that big of a fan. So what is that? There is a weird and irrational standard that we hold ourselves to but often times don’t know it until BAM…there it is, right in front of you (or next to you in line at Starbucks) and you feel…”less than”.

It isn’t always in such memorable circumstances like seeing a Hollywood movie star at the airport. It can hit (and usually does) at odd times and in odd places where it isn’t so obvious right away. There are times when I start out in a great mood and by the middle of the day, I am moody and irritable and can’t figure out why…until I trace it back to a conversation with him, an interraction with her, a memory brought to the surface by a commerical or a song.

I can’t put my finger on exactly what “it” is, but I’m certain it has to do with finding my identity in externals and in things and places other than my Creator. But I think I’ll save that part for another post.

and so it begins

We have arrived in Hilton Head and are pleasantly surprised to have internet service at the condo (thank you Marriot next door). It has been good to be with my family away from home for a while. It is going to be a good 2 weeks. Good thing I don’t believe in bad luck…as the trip began with one twin throwing up in the car after 6 hours of “Mommy, my tummy hurts” and “we need to stop, I have to poo-poo!” We did (stop). She didn’t (poo-poo). Thankfully, we were only 5 minutes from the condo…a blessing. So far it has been a very pleasant time, filled with good nights of sleep, playing in the pool and at the beach and ice cream at the harbour. All the things are in place for a great vacation.

sick of goodbye

So its May now, and there are a lot of good things about May…the flowers, the weather for the most part, and the anticipation of weeks at the beach. But this year, May has symbolized the ending of a lot of things. Most significantly, The Man and I had our last Sunday at the church where we have spent all our married days. And, though we will remain in the same house and the same town, this job change is a big one….because it hasn’t been “just a job”, but a home. And I will miss them. To add to the sadness, the very church we are heading to is the same one my sister and her family are preparing to leave…as they are moving from here (where they have lived the past 5 years) to Charlotte.

Those are the socially acceptable sad goodbyes. But somehow this week, the day after the season finales of American Idol and Lost, I found myself short tempered and weepy. And I felt the same way after watching The Office finale and after the Gilmore Girls series finale party. (That one brought tears during the show itself.) What does that say about me that the sadness of my sister moving away doesn’t hit until my favorite show takes a break for the summer?

just a kid

He’ll be 1 in a month. His first year of potentially so many. I had a birthday last month. A fairly significant one, I think. People who, a few weeks before seemed so much older are now suddenly “my age”. I like being 30 so far…more than I thought I would. I know technically it isn’t really that much different from 29, but somehow, it feels different. I’ve been telling the girls in the high school small group I lead that once you turn 18, you sort of feel 18 forever. I know I do, on the inside anyway. Sometimes I look at my 3 kids and my house and my husband and I sort of giggle to myself and think “Don’t people know? How could they let me bring these babies home from the hospital? I’m just a kid!” But I’m not just a kid. And sometimes that is sad to realize, but mostly lately, I’m thankful for these 30 years that I wear on my face and speak in my words. I feel a bit more real and more secure. One thing I’ve learned for sure is I sure have a lot to learn.

the anti-potty training

Mommy accidently mentions the word “potty” and two-year-olds’ eyes light up. “I wanna poo-poo in the potty seat!” She disappears around the corner.

Three and half seconds later, twin sister two-year-old delightfully says the exact same thing…and disappears around the corner.

Mommy balances nursing baby brother in one arm while he fights to finish his lunch and tries to help first two-year-old pull off shorts and very wet diaper. All the while, listening to accusing tone of two-year-old. “I do it! I do it mySELF!”

Mommy sighs, sits on bathroom floor, watches as two-year-old tries unsucessfully to do it herself.

Mommy stands up and helps two-year-old finish undressing and mount the potty seat.

Two-year-old smiles, grunts, smiles, grunts, laughs, sings “Twinkle, Twinkle, litte star” (complete with hand motions), proudly announces “I did it!”, high fives twin sister (who is still singing), pulls 3 feet of toilet paper off from the wall, wipes (if you can call it that) jumps down from the potty seat and looks inside.

Potty is empty.

Two-year-old smiles again, announces her victory and runs out of bathroom naked from the waist down.

Twin two-year-old looks up at Mommy with big brown eyes. “I wanna poo-poo in the potty seat!”

Mommy looks at twin two-year-old. “Just go in your diaper.”