Happy BIRDday to you

I had no intention of posting these, but a friend recently asked where I had come up with the ideas I'd used for decorating for Seven's first birthday party. I told her about the hours I'd spent scanning blogs and noting my favorite ideas. Then she asked why I hadn't returned the favor and posted my own pics to serve as inspiration to other Mommas. Ummmmm ... because it hadn't occurred to me? 


To remedy my bloggy faux pas, I present ... the BIRDday Party.

The entrance

 

We live in a townhouse with a narrow front walkway. Since balloons or cute yard signs or anything of that nature wouldn't have been seen from the street by our guests anyway, I commissioned Jo and her best friend to set the stage in chalk.

The cupcakes

 

With the number of kids in attendance, cupcakes were the way to go. Easier to serve and, given that we'd be outside, no plates would be needed unless someone was just feeling particularly neat and tidy. I saw these sweet bird's nests, but decided that snipping marshmallows and whatnot was probably less fun than spending my time enjoying the birthday girl. So I simply saved a bag of robin's eggs candies back at Easter time, pulled them out of the freezer in September and, voila! Cute little nests!

The highchair banner

 

I really, really wanted to do a highchair banner. I have no idea why, but I saw some on etsy and fell in love and, well ... I just had to do it. So I did.

Seven's was a two-evening project for Jo and me. I bought coordinating scrapbook paper from the craft store, a few embellishments to sprinkle here and there, and we set to work.

I drew out a pattern for a fat little birdie, then we cut out a bunch of bodies and wings and had fun mixing and matching. It really was a fun, no-rules craft. And I liked the results so much that I'm keeping the banner to reuse when Miss Seven turns 2. 

The serving area

 

Since the actual party was outside, we just needed a staging area in the house. So I pushed my kitchen table against the wall, and used it as a buffet. I went with all kid-friendly and loosely bird-themed nibbles.

There were twigs (pretzel sticks), flowers (fruit kebobs), suet cakes (rice crispie treats), and birdseed (sunflower seeds). Jo and I made these markers while we working on the banner.


Located on the wall above the serving area was what turned out to be everyone's favorite part of the party: the year in pictures.

This was so, so easy and yet so sweet and fun. I simply took one photo from each month of Seven's life, printed it as a 5x7, and hung it on a color-coordinated ribbon with a mini clothespin. To anchor the ends in a classier fashion, I covered the tips of my pushpins with yet another cutout of a paper bird.

To label each month of this amazing last year, I printed out a free template and used leftover scrapbooking paper from the high chair banner. My handwriting isn't as fancy as some of my computer's fonts. I let it do the pretty part: I printed out "birth" through "11" on white paper, then glued it on to the little tags. Mr. Blandings loved this so much that he moved it to the wall in Seven's bedroom, where I get to enjoy it every day. And Jo (who is going through a teen phase of valuing originality above mere imitation) is convinced that she's going to be seeing this particular decoration "copied" at every little one's birthday she attends for years. Really--it was that cute!


To cement the theme, I put together a playlist of all bird-related songs ... but since we spent 90% of the party out on the back hill, I'm fairly certain no one noticed "Bye Bye Blackbird," "And Your Bird Can Sing," "Three Little Birds," "Blackbird," and the like. But I knew it was there. :-)

Nominated, part 2

Turns out, not only was I nominated for the Best Special Needs Homeschooling Blog category-- I was nominated in Favorite Homeschool Mom Blog, as well as Best Photos Blog. I didn't notice because frankly, I didn't look under such vaunted headings. I'm sure that says something about me on a very deep emotional level, but right now, I'm not interested in psychoanalyzing the whole thing. Instead, I'm just going to sit here and say, "Wow!" and try not to sound like Sally Fields too awfully much. :-)

Joshua 1:9

It is no small thing to put your son on a plane and send him halfway around the world.



It is no small thing to watch him collect his belongings, listen to him dream over what God has in store for him while he is abroad.


It is no small thing, too, to see him cast a glance over his shoulder as he walks through the massive, sliding doors of the airport and search for you--one last time-- to offer a reassuring smile.


I'm going now. I'm off! Can you believe it, Mom? I'm doing it! I'm really doing it. Just like you always said I would ...


Five years ago, I wondered and worried and prayed over the spectre of fear and defeat that threatened to swallow Atticus. Night after night, I would pray with him, asking God to cut his anxieties down to size, to give him victory, to help him claim the steadfast heart that Jesus wanted for him as a young man of God. More often than not, Mr. Blandings and I would slip into his bedroom just before we turned in for the night and pray once more; this time, it was Joshua 1:9. Every night, over and over, we prayed this verse:

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous! Do not tremble or be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.

We recited it by day light, when the worries appeared. Over math that seemed too difficult. Over words that seemed too hurtful. Over fears about the future. Over questions that seemed too deep. Over a heart that seemed destined to cower.


Years later, I can tell you that the roots of this Scripture are so deep in my son's spirit that I have seen him whispering it to himself as he prepares to walk into a crowded room of people he doesn't know. 

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous! Do not tremble or be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.

Today, Yahweh walked alongside Atticus as he took one small leap from boyhood to manhood. The God who hung the stars in the sky stood nearby as Atticus and Mr. Blandings made their way through security, found their gate, and settled in to wait a while. Then, it was Yahweh who carried my beaming boy on to a gigantic Airbus. Right now, the three of them are hurtling through the sky en route to Nepal and whatever adventures and blessings await them there.


Five years ago, none of this would have been remotely possible. Five years ago, it was a struggle for Atticus to strap into the car for a ride across the mountains without mentally steeling himself for the fiery death he knew was lurking just around every bend. Yet today, with God's help and to God's glory, this same young man kissed me fiercely as I prepared to leave him at the airport. His hands were not clammy, his face was not pale, his heart was not racing.


I must have held on a little too long for our last hug. The truth is, my heart breaks just a little bit with each day that I am away from any of my children, and knowing that it will be two weeks before this gawky man-boy is laughing at my side brings a hard lump into my throat. I was pondering this, holding on tight, as Atticus started to pull away. Sensing my hesitation, he leaned in just a tad closer, found my ear, and whispered.

"Joshua 1:9, Mom. 'Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous! Do not tremble or be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.'"

I cried just the tiniest bit as I let him go, even though really, it would have taken nothing for me to break into full-fledged sobs.  But to what end? Has God not commanded me? I will be strong and courageous. I will not tremble, nor be dismayed, for the Lord my God is with my son ... wherever he goes.

Nominated

If you look on my sidebar thingy, you'll see that I'm honored to say that this blog has been nominated multiple times in the Homeschool Blog Awards. Each time, it's been a shock-- and a delight-- to see that someone, somewhere, thought enough of what they read here to go to a website and put in a nomination.


This year is no different. But somehow, this year is even better.


For the first time, BOOKS and BAIRNS has been nominated in the Special Needs Homeschooling Blog category. And I am speechless.


See, I never wanted to be a special needs homeschooler. Unlike some people who know deep down that they are called to love and parent a child who faces challenges, I blundered into this whole SN parenting gig. And truth be known, it wasn't even a blunder that brought me to SN homeschooling. It was more like a slow, dawning awareness that what was going on down at the preschool while I was diligently tending the educational fire at home was in no way serving my precious son. Even then, I struggled to come to terms with that most basic of facts: God chose me to be Oli's Momma. And part of being a momma, in this family at least, is teaching.


I'm not a perfect teacher. Not for my neurotypical children, and not for the little one who has patiently sat by as I've learned what "special needs" really means. Some days I'm completely unable to hit on the right presentation for a new skill. Other days, I'm dead-on in the creative department, and feel a surge of confidence as I see the lights go on in a child's eyes. Then, of course, are all the in-between days, when I simply plod through and pray that this little bit I'm offering can fall into God's hands and be used for so much more in the lives of my children.


I'm honored to find the name of this blog among the others nominated in the special needs category. Such distinguished company makes a person blush. But the real gift of this nomination has been the realization that God has, yet again, opened a door for ministry through the circumstances of our family, our lives, and our homeschool. 


Oli didn't ask to have FAS. He didn't choose to have to fight to learn his name, how to swallow his food, or how to tell the difference between hot and cold. Truth be told, he didn't choose to be in our family, either. Oli didn't have any control over any of this ... but God did. Seeing how God has used, is using, and will continue to use this one special, precious, beloved little man for HIS glory, well ... that's an honor. There's no badge for that, no award. But for me, at least, there's the gift of Oli. And really, that's enough.

To Bee, or not to Bee

Mr. Blandings and Atticus are in the throes of packing for their journey to Kathmandu. We've got travel-sized shampoos, lots of granola bars (Atticus is not a fan of spicy dal bhat), and the three-volume set of  LoTR. There are also mounds and mounds of fleece hats, thick tights, and warm scarves ready to envelop the beautiful boys and girls at the children's home.


Tucked in amongst the necessities and the niceties are some papers. Some potentially very important papers.


Bee's latest visa request.


If you ever needed proof that the Blandings clan is willing to persevere in spite of repeated, emphatic "that's impossible" statements, well ... here it is.


Visa try, round four.


Honestly, we were reluctant to even consider approaching the embassy again. The last attempt to get Bee's visa was such an utter failure that we wondered if the time, effort, and yes, money, was simply a distraction from our bigger goal of moving to Nepal as missionaries. Bee, however, was eager to try one more time. In spite of the odds. In spite of the hassle. In spite of the very real possibility that this could be another heartache in the making.


Which proves that she's a Blandings, in case that was ever in doubt.


I humbly ask you to be in prayer for my family over the next two weeks. My guys leave November 12 and return Thanksgiving Day. Specifically, prayers are needed for:

• Bee's visa application--that God would place a sympathetic ear at the visa window, maybe even a Christian!
• Health for Mr. Blandings and Atticus--who have both been exposed to a yucky cold that might make such a long airplane journey quite uncomfortable.
• Things here at Casa Blandings to be boring. No illness, no attitude issues, no rocked boats.
• Safe travel for my menfolk and, God willing, my girl, too.
• A time of spiritual feast for me, that I would use the empty evenings to draw nearer to God and to listen to Him more closely than I can in my busy day-to-day routine.

GOTCHA!

My favorite part in "The Grinch who Stole Christmas" is when the Grinch realizes Christmas isn't about stuff. Upon taking in the fact that his attempt to foil Christmas has failed, we hear "And what happened then? Well, in Whoville they say that the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day."

That's how I felt the day I saw this:

Now, I don't think my heart was necessarily small. But it felt full enough, for sure. There was no aching lack, no longing for an indescribable something or unknown someone.

And then, there was Manolin.

I saw him, and I knew.

This boy? My son. 

The next day I met him. Four days later--October 31, 2008-- he was home.

Today, he's a boisterous, spunky, passionate three year-old. 

He loves his brothers and sisters. He calls me "Momma." He thinks there's nothing tastier than a bowl of black beans and rice--except for maybe a slice of homemade pizza covered in black olives. Trains are the coolest thing ever. He adores his Cubbies vest. He will happily tell you that he has "curly hair and Latino eyes."

My heart gratefully grew three sizes the day that Manolin came. It continues to expand with each flash of his dimples, every infectious giggle, every "Thank you for making my dinner, Momma!" 

I love this boy. I catch my breath every time I ponder the maze of circumstances God used to get him into our arms. "Grateful" is such a small word when faced with the true depth of what I feel when I kiss this boy's forehead at night. 

My heart grew three years ago this day. Our family grew by one. And Manolin, well .., he continues to grow.

Happy Gotcha' Day, little man!

... and there it is

Four weeks ago, she was cruising around the furniture, figuring out the cool walking toy, and pushing an overturned laundry basket ahead of her to keep her balance.


Three weeks ago, she let go ... and, of course, never looked back.


Seven is walking, toying with running, getting around. 


A toddler. A full-blown toddler. 


Already.