Playing Man-to-Man

While I am a fervent supporter of March Madness and I truly do love basketball, this isn’t a basketball story.  I’m sorry if I lured you in with the terminology in the title.  Stick with me a minute though…March Madness has just looked a little different for the King family this year.

When you have a baby, whether it’s your first, your second or your twelfth, there’s an unbelievable amount of anticipation.  You spend nine (well, really, it’s 10; that’s one of the many ways that pregnancy misleads you) months preparing for your new arrival in so many ways.  If you’re carrying the baby, you deal with the physical ramifications.  If you’re a dad, partner or adoptive mom, the preparation doesn’t involve that, but it’s no less hardcore.  Pregnancy can be tough.  Anticipation can be tough.  Waiting can be tough. 

And then, it happens.  Each birth story is unique.  Each time a person of any age enters a family it’s unique.  There is no way to make sweeping statements about any of this.  Everyone is different and thankfully, there’s no wrong way to feel, no wrong way to act, no wrong way to react.  The single most important thing is that love is the prevailing force.

Eleanor’s birth was just as unique as she is.  There was nothing terribly crazy that happened; it was an uneventful and, thankfully quick, induction.  Well, other than the three epidurals, but that’s a story for another day.  To make a long story (the details of which are riveting to me, but probably not to you) short, Eleanor Kathryn King made her entrance into the world at 5:41pm on Friday, February 17^th.  She weighed in at 7 pounds, 11 ounces and measured 19 inches long.  She is and was a beautiful baby.  She was alert from the beginning, like her big sister.  She was celebrated with a birthday cake, serenaded by an amazingly proud big sister, cuddled by four proud grandparents and immediately stretched the hearts of her parents to encompass a family of four where it was once two and then three.

All of that is a precursor to today’s actual topic.  I have nothing groundbreaking to share, but here’s my wisdom; two kids are different than one.  You may think it’s obvious and you may cognitively know it, but knowing something is true and really knowing it are two different things.  I’m completely aware that anyone who has multiple kids is currently rolling their eyes at me.

So, here are ten of the things (in no particular order) that I have learned in the last four and a half weeks, or the time I’ve actually had two kids:

1.     You’re not quite stretched to zone defense, but man-to-man is completely different than double-teaming. 

2.     Attitude is everything.  Don’t expect full nights of sleep just because you got it the first time around, then you’ll be pleasantly surprised when/if it does happen.

3.     First smiles are just as exciting as they were with the first kid.  I think it’s partly because you know all of the fun things that are coming.

4.     Kids are different.  It seems obvious, but you will find yourself comparing your kids with lots of things and in ways that you know are silly.

5.     Screen time has its time and place.  There’s nothing wrong with giving your toddler some extra screen time while you deal with your helpless newest addition.  Everyone will be super happy about it and you shouldn’t feel guilty.

6.     Almost three year olds still don’t play very well independently.  Maybe yours is different, but mine still wants lots of attention to play with almost anything.  She wants an audience.

7.     Never turn down an opportunity for one-on-one time with either kid.  If I spend all of my time with the new baby, my older one misses out and so do I. 

8.      Spit up and newborn diapers don’t hold a candle to the gross stuff older kids get into and do.  If you’re in the newborn phase with your first, trust me.  You have no idea how much higher your gross tolerance will get over the next few years.

9.     Most of the time, it isn’t the end of the world.  There are so many more freak-outs for first time parents.  If you can help it, don’t do that to yourself.

10. When you have subsequent kids, the light at the end of the tunnel is brighter and feels closer.  You know that things will, in fact, get easier, better and more entertaining. Don’t forget that you can remind yourself of that during that two A.M. feeding or when all you can do is bounce the baby while you Google the newest sleep aids.  Life comes back; it will never truly be the same, but that isn’t always a bad thing.

16 Songs in 1 Hour and 5 Minutes

38 weeks + 1 day....that's where we are. It was a few days ago that I made a playlist for Baby Girl #2. I had a playlist that I sang to Amelia, and still do. There were nights that I actually sang it in my sleep. I would wake up singing it. Now, when I hear the songs, I start to nod off to sleep. They mean a lot to me.

I can't wait to sing these songs to her. There are some that I want to sing to both of them, and they're on this playlist too.

1. How Can I Keep From Singing by Arlo Guthrie and Pete Seeger
2. Let It Be by The Beatles
3. Come Ye Sinners by Redeemer Presbyterian Church
4. Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing by Sufjan Stevens
5. Precious Lord Take My Hand by Doc Watson

I can pretty much sing these by heart when needed, and I have needed them at some critical times. Some have been when Amelia needed to hear them, and they brought her comfort. Others bring me comfort when I need it. For some reasons, Amelia loves to listen to The Beatles during bath time. Now, she wants me to show her the picture and tell her their names. So, we go through that...most baths...their names are Paul, John, Ringo, and George. I've sung these in airports, in the car, in her bedroom, when I've been angry, when I've been sad, when she's been sick, when she's been angry, and when we've both needed it. I hope to carry these with me for years to come, and that one day she'll find comfort in them. Maybe our new baby girl will like them...maybe not. No matter, I'll still take comfort in them, and she will hear them, at least.

These are the other songs that I've added to the list:

1. Murder In The City by The Avett Brothers
2. Tired Old Phrases by Cadillac Sky
3. Prairie Wind by Neil Young
4. All Around You by Sturgill Simpson
5. The Weight Of Lies by The Avett Brothers
6. From This Valley by The Civil Wars
7. Life Is Beautiful by Keb' Mo'
8. The Ballad Of Love And Hate by The Avett Brothers
9. Christmas Song by Dave Matthews & Tim Reynolds
10. Who Will Take My Place by The Duhks
11. Breakers Roar by Sturgill Simpson

Some of these are new to me, but some are songs that I've listened to and have grown on me over the years. I hope that they have a similar effect on our new child.

The one that wrecks me most frequently is Murder in the City by the Avett Brothers. Go ahead and download it, or pull it up on Spotify, but these are my favorite lyrics:

     "I love you, and I'm proud of you both, in so many different ways."
     "Always remember, there is nothing worth sharing like the love that let us share our name."

Amelia and our new baby girl will be loved by so many people. Is there less time to go around? Yes. Is there less love? No! Rather than, smaller pieces of the pie to go around. The pie grows. Bigger pieces and more pieces...

"Just know in your heart that we're always together, and long after I'm gone, I'll still be around. Cause our love is eternal and so is love. God is inside you...all around you...and up above...Glowing, showing you the way."

     - Sturgill Simpson

The Countdown is On

             I am three and a half weeks away from baby girl #2’s due date.  Pregnancy, at least for me, both times around, has seemed to both fly by and take forever.  At this point, I can see why some people are impatient for their newest addition’s arrival.  I am still holding out hope that this one will follow in Amelia’s footsteps and come on her due date.  No matter when she comes, we will be thrilled and our main hope is a safe and healthy deliver for mommy and baby. 

            Also, at this point, there are many other things at war in my thoughts.  First off, there are a few things we need to get and a few things we need to get done.  If baby girl came today, we could figure it out, but it would be nice to finish up everything ahead of her.

            I’m also nervous about the possibility of being at the elementary school where I work rather than an one of my in-town preschools when something starts happening.  The elementary school is about thirty minutes out of town.  It would be extra-nerve wracking if it was on a day with any winter weather.  Driving in the snow while worrying about contractions is not on my bucket list.

            I know how much Amelia’s life is about to change.  I adore that little girl and while I think a sibling is a wonderful gift to her, I also know that her little sister will bring an entirely new set of challenges.  We will have to learn to share more, not just toys, but also time and attention.  We will have to learn how to be patient and how to interact with someone who is smaller than her, on her turf.  I don’t want to introduce so many more restrictions into her life, so many more “no’s”.  Eventually, they will be best friends; I know we’ll get there; it just won’t be smooth sailing every moment of every day.

            Most of all, I worry about the world we’re bringing her into.  This little girl will be loved.  Loved unconditionally and loved by so many people.  I could not be more grateful for that.  That being said, we will teach her that she is no better than anyone else and no one else is better than her.  We will teach her that love is the answer.  Love should dictate our actions.  People matter more than our stuff.  This little girl will know that she is smart, she is kind, she is important, she is beautiful, and any other epitaphs that work here. 

            Our world, especially over the last week and a half, has not exactly contributed to those values.  We’ve seen hate-filled language, people insisting that they have knowledge and expertise that they do not have, power trips, and people who contradict their own expressions of faith, especially those who claim to value life, but only in one particular situation, when it’s easy and convenient for them.  On top of all of that, we have seen real people hurt, turned away, ignored, robbed of their hopes and treated as though they are less than human.  None of this is ok.  My girls will know that that is not ok. They will know that we cannot stand for it.  That we cannot stand by quietly, that inaction is action, that silence is saying something, that doing nothing is making a choice. 

            I’m going to avoid going off on a tangent here; I could give you books to read, organizations to contribute to, slogans to shout, calls to make, but I will resist….for now.

            Right this second, there are big things happening in our world and in our country.  There are also big things happening (on a much different scale) in my little family.  So, today, I will leave you with hope.  Hope that my littlest girl will make a safe and healthy entrance to this world.  Hope that she and Amelia will grow up in a world where they know they can make a difference, where they know that their parents have done everything they could to make a difference, to improve our world.

Scrabble, Jeopardy and Trivial Pursuit

One week ago today, my family suffered the loss of my Aunt Susan, my mom’s younger sister.  She was the youngest of four sisters.  That’s not all she was, but it does anchor her place in the Gantt family.  While her life was not what she had hoped and that breaks my heart, Susan made a lasting impression.  Many of my cousins and family members have posted things about her on social media over the course of the last week, especially around Friday, as we all gathered to say goodbye and participate in the funeral.  So, this may not be new to you.  This may be an echo of what you’ve already seen about her.  However, here is what I want to record about Susan, what has been on my mind over the last week:

                  If you had been with us at any one of the Gantt family Christmas gatherings, during the years when we could all be together, you probably would have seen children running around, possibly heard someone singing, walked past at least one person asleep in front of the TV (I won’t call anyone out here), seen the remnants of the “letter” gift exchange started a full year prior, on the Christmas before using a Scrabble set, and eaten more than your share of cookies and Chex mix.  You would also have seen a large group of us gathered around the dining room table, playing a game.  It wasn’t always a board game, but it was always a game that brought laughter, competition and my Aunt Susan was always in the middle of it.  She was an avid game player when we were around and was remarkably good at them.  I could have written this in “Jeopardy” format to honor both her trivia knowledge and affinity for games, but I wasn’t quite so clever this time around. 

                  Right now, we still feel an overwhelming grief; we’re grieving and that’s ok; that’s what we are supposed to do with our sadness right now. It looks different for each of us.  But, I will tell you, as so many others will second; Susan herself is not a part of that grief.  Susan can echo Beth’s words from Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women (from one reader to another, I had to make some sort of literary allusion) when she said, “Now I’m the one going ahead.”  We can all be confident that Susan is no longer worrying about the next step in her treatment, is no longer in pain and is celebrating with Grandmother and Papa in heaven, maybe reading a good book (maybe she’s even getting a sneak peek into Patrick Rothfuss’s as yet unwritten book) or beating them at a board game. 

                  Since Susan is the closest sister in age to my mother, Robin, I’ve grown up hearing stories about the two of them as children.  As you would expect and I will soon learn first-hand, with two sisters only two years apart, the stories range from sweet memories to memories that might fall into a different category.  You’ll have to ask my Mom if she’ll show you the face that she used to make to scare Susan.  But even so, they played beauty contest together and practiced songs, complete with choreography from their favorite musicals as children. 

Susan followed Mom to Carson Newman College in Jefferson City, TN where she completed her undergraduate studies and later in life, struck out on her own to obtain both her Master’s degree and Doctorate degree from Southern Seminary in Louisville, KY.  These accomplishments give you an idea of the value that Susan always placed on education.  She was the daughter of two people who worked incredibly hard during their lives, but were never able to go to college.  Susan was able to earn not only her Master’s but also her Doctorate.  I have immense respect for education.

When I was a child, Susan was generally around whenever Kyle, Charity and I were together in the Gantt household.  She would take us to run relay races, to the movies, to a playground or tell us that we were passing into different countries each time we drove through a traffic light (oh, now we’re in Argentina, next stop Germany, she’d say, as we drove around Spartanburg).   Susan invested in us as children and as adults.  Over the past couple of years, we’ve spent a good bit of what little time we had together talking about books.  That shared love of reading was always a tie between us. I can honestly say that I am grateful for the years we all had together and for the lasting marks she left in my life.

                  Susan Gantt’s memory will live on in her three sisters, three brothers-in-law, seven nieces and nephews, and their spouses and children.  Being pregnant and experiencing the loss of a loved one does have a unique feel.  My own grief is magnified through the lens of knowing that my second baby girl will not get to meet this aunt.  It’s a strange feeling and sadly, one that I’ve experienced before.  This loss is not about me and I know that, although I am sad for both my daughters.  The Gantt family will continue; the legacy is there, but it will always be a little different.  For that matter, Scrabble, Jeopardy and Trivial Pursuit will also always be a little different…

"Everything's Magical When it Snows, Everything Looks Pretty"

Like virtually my entire social media news feed, we got some snow last night.  Yes, I live in the mountains, but also yes, I live in the south.  So, we like to think we know what to do with snow, but as southern mountaineers, people from other places may scoff when they actually see it.  This time we got over six inches; it may have been closer to seven or eight by the time the flakes stopped falling this morning.  Regardless, it's a pretty snow. For us, this is a real snow.  The first real snow of this season.  You could practically hear the cheers from the ski slopes, even in spite of the bitter wind and frigid temperatures.

Lorelai Gilmore, the main character on "Gilmore Girls," insisted that she could smell snow.  Lorelai is one of the characters that I naively think would be a very dear friend, if a few things were different; mainly, if she were real and I lived in Stars Hollow.  Anyway, first snows always remind me of her.  She's right; the world changes with that blanket of white.  Snow does make everything look magical; look clean, look bright, look new.  However, that cold also carries a bite.  The beauty of it is deceivingly dangerous, in so many ways.

This particular first snow felt like a true first snow for Amelia.  We are running out of these moments for her; she's getting to the age where firsts are becoming fewer and farther apart.  At two years old (and seven months), she is getting to the point where she remembers more and more.  For those of you who know Amelia, you know how true that is for her specifically.  This child hardly every forgets.  Her memory continually surprises me.  Christmas did have a novel feel though; she was still overjoyed and surprised with each new thing we did this year.  Each moment brought some toddler magic.  Today was another window into that wonder.

There is an unbelievable amount of change coming for my family, most of the time right now, it feels like it's barreling toward us.  I'm still processing a good bit; and not ready to share it all, but it's coming.  Today, though, got to be about Amelia.  We relished being "snowed in."  We stayed at home all day, played together and played in the snow.

Since I'm over eight months pregnant, sadly, I couldn't sled today, but that didn't stop Adam and Amelia.  She could barely stand still as I got her dressed to go out and never hesitated for a moment. You could see how beautiful it looked to her; how magical.  She walked through the snow, she made snow angels, she rode on the sled, she declared that snow angels were all over her.  The outing didn't last terribly long since it (and is) horribly cold and windy, but that short period of time was enough to make her small backyard world something new, exciting and different.

Every time this happens, I am reminded of how lucky we are to have those moments and how lucky we are to witness those moments in her.  Amelia is growing up so quickly; I know that one day that magic will change.  The change is inevitable.  But, it doesn't have to disappear.  I hope that 2017 can be a year of magic for all of us.  No, nothing will be perfect.  Yes, there will be more loss, more pain, more sadness, more frustration, more inequalities.  I also know that we are the ones that can fight against that and fight we must.

In spite of all of that, don't miss out on snow days.  Don't forget what it was like to see something as if for the first time.  Know where you've been, but also where you're going.  Don't shrug off an opportunity to see the world as a toddler does; to see it as it could be, to see it as new, as pretty, as magical.

Maybe It's Much Too Early in the Game

One of the "perks" of being the parent of a toddler is that we are not out celebrating somewhere, watching something drop, as we count down the seconds to 2017.  I'm not sure whether that's a win for us or not.  The win that I can guarantee is that our two year old is already in bed.  So, we will fight the fight of all parents of young children (especially those who are 32 weeks pregnant) on New Year's - can we stay awake until midnight?  It's an exciting life, folks.  All of that aside, I wouldn't trade it for the world and I can promise that I am more than happy ringing in the new year with my favorite person.

Six years ago, on New Year's Eve, Adam proposed.  So, on this night, we do at least acknowledge our engage-a-versary.  This time around, we had a lovely steak dinner on our wedding china.  We taught Amelia how to do "cheers" and heard gleeful, toddler shouts of "happy New Year" throughout our romantic dinner.  Because of that significance for our family, New Year's is doubly meaningful.  You know how I love my special occasions.

Anyway, on this eve of a new year, I'm going to join the throes of people who are looking back and looking forward.  This is always a precipice and this year (just like all others) had it's ups and downs.  Yes, I will be the first to acknowledge that 2016 was tough at times; sometimes it felt unfair, sometimes we lost people, sometimes we had our hearts broken, sometimes we fought the good fight and still lost.  Even so, 2016 was also a year of smiles, of laughter, of growth, of new things, of anticipation and of life.

I thought about giving you the rundown of my favorite parts of 2016, or my resolutions for 2017 (which are, as always, many but not a little bit vague), or even just a countdown of moments to add to your countdown to the new year.  However, I decided against it.

Tonight, you do you.  Take the time to look back; think about your favorites of 2016.  Think about what made you smile, what told you to get out of bed in the morning, what made you look forward to the next day, what you learned, who you met, all of those things that make life, life.

Yes, you should also think about the things that were tough; that didn't work for you in 2016.  Think about your mistakes, think about the hurt, others that were hurt, what went wrong.  That's how we make 2017 better; that's how we move forward.

In the coming year, I hope that we will all move forward.  Looking back is important; we must know where we came from and how we got to where we are.  Moving forward doesn't mean we forget the past, but rather, that we learn from it.  Moving forward doesn't mean we give up on the things we aspire to change, but rather, that we evolve in our tactics, that we re-adjust our approach, that we concentrate on growing the right way.

My hope for 2017 is that it will be the year of love.  We should aspire to love so deeply, so radically, in such an all-encompassing way, that it cannot be ignored.  My hope for you in 2017 is that you are loved, you give love and you live love, whatever that looks like for you.

Right now, days pass quickly.  Our new addition's arrival is coming soon; my to-do list is a mile and a half long.  However, I am aspiring to cherish the moments we have as a family of three (plus Scout) and actively wait in happy anticipation for the changes in store in the next couple of months.  Currently, it's tough to see past the looming month of February.  Obviously, I have high hopes for you, 2017.

Happy New Year!

Little Full, Lotta Sap

Well, at least you can’t say I didn’t warn you.  During the season of Advent, my heart is always a little full, and there is never a shortage of sap.  I, like so many other people, do adore Christmas, not just the day, but the season.  Clark W. Griswold, Jr. may rival my love of the fun, old fashioned family Christmas, but I would never question that it’s the season to be merry (or is it Mary?) or waver in my dedication to have the hap-hap-happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny Kaye (in another of my all-time favorite movies). 

I’m not going to channel Linus VanPelt right now and give you rundown of what Christmas is all about.  That’s not what I’m trying to do today.  Today, I’m thinking of the waiting; the waiting, the anticipation, the preparation, all leading up to the celebration.  In the liturgical calendar, the church year begins on the first Sunday of Advent.  While Advent may fall at the end of our regular calendar year, for Christians, it is just the beginning.  Christmas is the beginning of the Easter story. Each week has a different focus; hope, peace, joy and love.  Then, the last focus is on the coming of Christ. 

To me, the anticipation makes the celebration sweeter.  Frederick Buechner said it better than I could in The Magnificent Defeat, “For outlandish creatures like us, on our way to a heart, a brain and courage, Bethlehem is not the end of our journey but only the beginning – not home but the place through which we must pass if we are ever to reach home at last.”

Those of you who know me (and let’s be honest, I doubt anyone who doesn’t know me is reading this blog), know that I absolutely love surprises.  I will go out of my way to avoid ruining a surprise.  I have never searched for Christmas presents; I have never shaken them, I have never tried to un-tape one corner to have an early look or made an attempt to convince my little brother to open them for me.   Along those same lines, if you know me, you also know that patience is not one of my virtues.  In certain situations, I may be able to feign patience and with some people it manifests itself in different ways; however, patience is most definitely not something that comes easily.  That being said, Advent is a different kind of waiting.  This is not a sit around, twiddle-your-thumbs, count the minutes kind of waiting. 

“Patience is waiting.  Not passively waiting.  That is laziness.  But to keep going when the going is hard and slow – that is patience.  The two most powerful warriors are patience and time.” –Leo Tolstoy

This is exactly that; an active waiting.  As we wait, we prepare.  We reflect.  We also wrap presents, decorate, go see Santa, foster the wonder of the season, bake cookies, travel all over the place, party, and watch every single Christmas movie/special/hallmark program that we can binge between Black Friday and Christmas Day.  Somewhere in there, we like to think that our priorities stay in line; that we do think of the less fortunate, that we are teaching our children that this season isn’t about gifts or money or cramming as much as possible into one month.  My “Psalty’s Christmas Calamity” record (yes, record), put it so nicely when I was a child; “Christmas is a time to love.”  Christmas is a time for hope, for peace, for joy and yes, for love. 

I do not mean that we should rebound and completely forego any of the wonder of Santa or gifts or any other fun, silly parts of Christmas.  I am not campaigning about semantics, to keep the “Christ” in “Christmas.”  There is no possible way that any of us could take him out.  I am not saying that Christians are being persecuted when someone says “Happy Holidays,” because there is nothing wrong with saying “Happy Holidays.”  In fact, “Happy Holidays” to all of you.  When we concentrate on those things, our priorities are just as skewed as if we take to the opposite extreme.

This year, seemingly more than others, we all need a little Christmas.  No matter where you fall on the political spectrum, it has been a bit of a tough year.  There have also been wildfires, deaths, hateful rhetoric, fear, infringements of rights, war, skewed priorities and so many other things that feel so heavy.  Maybe it’s the fact that baby girl #2 is making her presence more obvious, maybe it’s that a certain two-year-old is completely enchanted with the idea of Christmas this year, maybe it’s just the feeling of pulling all of the Christmas stuff out of the attic, or maybe it’s the combination of all of it, but I am feeling Christmas this year. 

The wonder of Christmas is raging in my house.  Our house is completely taken over with Christmas decorations from nativities to a real tree to an Advent wreath to a felt tree to a passed-down village to a cheesy, inflatable polar bear.   Amelia is at the age where it all feels new, magical, and marvelous.  It’s easy to see the magic when it’s reflected in her.  Ultimately, that wonder is infectious.

Through Christmas, we get to glimpse the love of God is an astounding way; through a refugee baby.  “And that is the wonder of all wonders, that God loves the lowly…God is not ashamed of the lowliness of human beings.  God marches right in.  He chooses people as his instruments and performs his wonders where one would least expect them.  God is near to lowliness; he loves the lost, the neglected, the unseemly, the excluded, the weak and broken.”  This quote from Dietrich Bonhoeffer in God is in the Manger: Reflections on Advent and Christmas, articulates another reason why Advent is so important this year.

There are so many who are justifiably afraid right now.  There are so many hurting, so many questioning, so many who have been betrayed by those they trusted.  Everyone out there needs hope, needs peace, needs joy, needs love.  We can help.  We can be safe.  We can be supportive.  We can fight to improve life, in all of its stages, for all people, even after birth. We can acknowledge and work through our prejudices.  We can live and be love, in a million different little and not-so-little ways.  After all, love really is all around.

At the very least, we could always follow in Buddy the Elf’s footsteps and spread Christmas cheer by singing loud for all to hear.  Ok, I’m off to make gingerbread houses and eat cookie dough and go ice-skating and maybe even hold hands…