I found my camera!

Nadia at six months, my sweet, happy, delicious baby. I often wish I could put her on "pause."

Nadia Ruth Todd, the sweetest baby on the planet

"Is she always this good?" I hear this just about every time we're out. "Yes. Always."

She is the PERFECT baby. And the main reason I rarely blog anymore.

She's six months old now, but these are five-month pics because I can't find my camera. It's here somewhere . . .

Conversations with Judah and Mira--Oct 2010

A couple days ago, my husband sent me an e-mail telling me he missed my blog. So tonight he's at a Bible study, the kids are all in bed asleep, the floors are swept, the toilet's cleaned, the laundry's mostly done, the dishes are soaking . . . and I'm in a constant state of writing in my head. I rarely find a moment during the day that I'm able to carry on a coherent conversation or write a meaningful e-mail, much less a blog post. So much mental energy must be exerted for such things. I've been giving all of mine to three little people who have been giving me excellent writing material.

Conversations with Judah and Mira . . .

Yesterday we went to Cheekwood with a group of homeschool families. When we got back, James asked me if I enjoyed my day. I said, "Yes. I got to be with some of my favorite people doing some of my favorite things--outside." And Miriam added, "Without your mom telling you what to do . . . or what not to do." (I really wish you could hear her little 3-year-old voice.)

The night before, James was working late so I let Judah climb in bed with me and snuggle after we did our bedtime routine. (Miriam fell asleep early and Nadia was already in bed.) He said, "Mom, remember in the olden days when we used to snuggle?"

I asked, "When you were two?"

"Yeah."

"Come here, you. Let me snuggle you."

As we snuggled, I said something about letting me snuggle him until he was married. He said, "I'm never going to marry." Then, in his "I'm teasing you" voice, he continued, "Why would I want a troublesome old woman hanging about me all the days of my life . . . bossing me around . . . and telling me to go to work every day. All we'd have to eat is one dry little bean. And we'd have a son named Jack and he would climb a beanstalk and . . . " we just laughed and laughed and laughed. After our little giggle-fest, I prayed for him and our friends until he fell asleep. I love that boy.

This afternoon, I heard both Miriam and Judah outside crying. When I went to find out what happened, I discovered that Judah was "leaving to live the Indian life of adventure" and they were saying their tearful goodbyes.

Judah was wearing nothing but a leather belt and a blue towel loincloth with a handmade bow and arrow strung across his back. Miriam had a sparkle sash around her head, a braid in her hair, and a purple shawl tied around her waist. That's it. No shirt. No panties. Very authentic.

Miriam was in tears, saying that Judah was going to leave--"for real--in real life." He looked at me with a tear just beginning to stream down his face, said goodbye, and started walking down the road (imagine his little naked body with a bow strung over his shoulder and a leather belt about his waist). I tried to comfort Miriam, but I couldn't stop laughing! He made his way around the perimeter of the yard. They reunited and played on the side of the house that doesn't face the street (according to my recommendation). I think we might need to move out to the country pretty soon.