how to say his name

It never crossed my mind that we were naming our son a name that could be pronounced so many different ways. But I've heard a lot of different vowel sounds since he's been born. That 'a' seems to mess a lot of people up. But his name sounds much more like Iver, with a strong I and an er ending.

As my brother-in-law Jedd likes to say, "It's Ivar like MacGyver

the art of the thank you

I got this thank you in the mail from my 5 year old niece, Mara: And this one from 3 year old, Sonna:

And they came in this envelope from my sister, Annika. It says, "I love you, Sis! Great to 'see you' on Skype lately. Sonna: "Mom, you are good at flushing!" Always the encourager!

A few thoughts. The envelope note made me laugh. First because the content is hysterical. Sonna complimented Annika's ability to flush the toilet. That is funny stuff. I can't wait until Ivar can boost my ego with such complementary words... And second because our dad is the King of Envelope Notes. This is how he operates. Most weeks at college dad would send me the church bulletin in an envelope with an envelope note. Short, to the point, and consistent. I loved it.

Annika is amazing at thank yous. She always gets hers out on time and writes something thoughtful and considerate. I got this thank you in the mail and it snapped me out of my thank you note denial. I have another 70 to write since Ivar was born and so far I've been playing the New Baby card very well. But I believe it is time to write five a day until they are done. After all, I am so grateful and its time I thank the proper people for their generosity. It's just so daunting.

But something about Mara taking the time to write all of those words and to draw a picture of Twister, and Sonna working so hard on every one of those letters made me think it's time for me to work hard too and get them done.

Until then, for all of you still waiting for a thank you for a gift you sent: THANK YOU for your patience and generosity. A thank you should be coming shortly to a mailbox near you.

Ivar's little laugh

first laughs from Becca Groves on Vimeo.

wonders never cease

My sister-in-law Lisa gave me this amazing gift for Christmas. It was in my stocking that was filled with all sorts of other great things, but this gadget here might be my favorite new ease-of-life-innovation. Behold the Peanut Butter and Jelly Spreader. Never again will one find jelly in the peanut butter or peanut butter in the jelly.

It's so perfect because since the moment Ivar was born, I cannot get enough peanut butter and jelly toast. I craved nothing while I was pregnant with him, but now that he is here and I have no real excuse for crummy eating, this insatiable need for pbj toast will not go away.

Literally, I never had pbj toast while pregnant, but it was the very first thing I ate after delivery (probably five hours after Ivar was born) and ever since it has become this crazy comfort food. And now I have a device to help me with my craving. Merry Christmas to me. Thank you, Lisa!

tummy time

This weekend I remembered about tummy time. I guess it just slipped my mind until I read on babycenter.com that "your baby may be able to prop himself up with his arms by now..." and I realized my neglect. So this morning Ivar had some time on his belly. He was a bit concerned, kept looking at me with a confussed look like surely I had made a mistake and gave little grunts and sighs as if to say, "I don't enjoy this, so whenever you'd like to flip me over, that would be great." And when I flipped him, he was much happier.

Today I put him in his new jeans! I had a gift card to gap kids and found these jeans on the clearance rack. They're still too big for him, but I couldn't help myself this morning (plus, he had nothing clean to wear...) I thought the John Deer blanket from my Uncle Carl was a good selection to go with his work pants.
I was with my Grandma last week and told her I got Ivar his first pair of jeans and she gave me a look of disgust like I have never seen. She even made an audible disapproving sound! This is unheard of from my agreeable Grandma. But she has always had a thing about babies wearing adult clothes. She believes baby clothes should be soft and cuddly. And I would say I absolutely agree Grandma!...until I found these jeans. Then I made my exception. Ivar will just be sure not to wear them in her presence.

He's so cute, isn't he?!! :)

Christmas and a baby

My friend Beth wrote a great blog post yesterday that I think you'll enjoy. It made me laugh hard as not only am I trying to right my habits after Christmas cookie season, but I'm also trying to get some sort of plan together in order to 1) work off this extra baby-love on my body, 2) get a shower in each day and 3) to change out of my pajama pants by suppertime.

Click here to read Beth's post entitled: Breaking Up is Hard to Do

a good kick in the pants

I read Beth Moore's blog and I love it. It continually encourages me, redirects my thinking, realigns my priorities and sometimes it just plain offers a kick in the hiney to get back in the Bible, to memorize God's word and to start talking to Jesus again.
Well, I just got a swift kick. I read on of her posts on Saturday night and it stopped me in my tracks, got me to open up my Bible before I went to bed and to pray again like I mean it.
I think you should read her post from Saturday night. It got me excited to be a part of God's family and made me want to dive deeper. One way to dive deeper is to memorize scripture. On her blog, Beth encourages her readers to memorize one verse every two weeks. This way, by 2012, we should have 26 verses memorized. Completely doable.
I have trouble figuring out what verse I should memorize, but in her comments each week people from all over the world write the verse that they are memorizing and somewhere in those comments I find the verse the stands out for me and my circumstances.
This is a New Years resolution that I feel really committed to. There could be nothing more fruitful than to meditate on God's word! And I'm so excited to grab hold of my personal walk with God again. So I'm starting with Isaiah 2:3. I hope you join me!

one little word

Some of you might remember how I chose one word to focus on for 2010. This is Ali Edward's idea, a favorite blogger/scrapbooker of mine. Last year my word was Trust and I thought about this word a lot throughout the year. When I picked it, I knew we were hoping to get pregnant and knew that if we did get pregnant we'd want to be closer to family. And I knew that this would affect my work and Rory's work. Rory had an office space leased out for three years so we had no intention to move back to Minnesota. There were a lot of unknowns and so the word I chose was chosen to keep me calm, at peace and remembering that God always has the bigger picture.

This year I have chosen the word Try. Truthfully, this year, my word picked me. Last year I had to read from the list of words to choose from and ended up selecting four words and then finally narrowing it down to one. But this year, I just had one word come to mind the very first time I thought about choosing a word.

There are a few things on my life list that I really want to pursue, but out of fear of failure, have yet to take even the first step towards the goal. I know that to not try is the actual failure. I get so worried about what others might think that I end up paralyzed. But in 2011 my word is Try. I'm just going to try, and if I fail then at least I tried which means I didn't actually fail.

I know this all sounds very vague and that I have nothing in this writing for you to actually sink your teeth into. But for now I'm going to keep the particulars to myself and let them unfold in real time. I'll keep you posted on how this one goes.

I would encourage you to pick a word too. There is something grounding about the process. It sort of helps you keep a continual focus for 365 days. I wrote about the process last year here. And Ali Edwards has written about the process here.

the holy family

I was so excited for our Halloween costumes this year. I had it all planned out. Rory would be Joseph, I would be Mary and we would drive all around to friends and family houses in a panic, with Rory pleading for room in their Inn, telling them that his wife was great with child. In my head, this was genius. I had my mom get costumes from church and I was ready for the drama to unfold.

In an odd twist, I actually was going into labor on Halloween, so I never got to live out this brilliant costume idea. Instead, about the time I was hoping to be going door to door, laughing about going into labor, I was actually in active labor, trying to survive from contraction to contraction. (It should be noted, however, that the picture above of me as Mary was taken moments before we went to the hospital the first time. As we were leaving the house I was lamenting the fact that such a perfect costume would not be used and so I put it on and had Rory take my picture. This might be added to my birth story: If you are trying on halloween costumes on your way to the hospital, you probably aren't in serious labor yet.)

Fast forward to a few weeks ago when Ivar was asked to be baby Jesus at my home church. Remember how we just weren't quite comfortable having a 5th grader carry our newborn up stairs while wearing a robe cinched up with a rope? Our baby just felt to fragile to hand over so soon...

So, imagine our great surprise when last weekend, as we were walking into church for the Christmas program, we were intercepted by the nativity coordinator and asked if the three of us would be Mary, Joseph and Baby Jesus on Christmas Eve. Rory's reply was, "For crying out loud!" (I think he knew this holy family thing wasn't going to just go away) We agreed because this time we would be holding our baby and as Rory put it so eloquently, "well, we'll be there anyway..." Thank you, Joseph.

So on Christmas Eve, Ivar got to be Jesus. And he was fantastic. He kicked his bare feet and wiggled his hands the whole time. I'm afraid I looked more like Cousin Itt than Mary, as my hair covered my face the whole time I looked down to keep Ivar content. But it was great, and a truly sweet moment for our little family.

eight weeks

Dear Ivar,
You are eight weeks old today. And I love you to pieces. When you wake up in the morning I walk to your crib tired and slow and then I see you and my heart overflows. It's such a cool feeling. It's like I am surprised by happiness first thing each day. And now you've started to smile and have the beginnings of a laugh- sort of an open mouth excited inhale. We love this laugh and have found it to be quite contagious.

It's been a really full eight weeks. Your dad and I took you for a picnic your fourth day of life and to church on your sixth. And then I started taking you on outings on my very own. The first was to your cousins Jack and Josie's middle school play. I was so cautious as I drove my most precious possession all the way to Apple Valley. And I was so excited to be out and about with you. I felt able and even a bit free. You and me, we made a good team and I was just beginning to realize how much more fun every part of life was going to become. I like running errands with you. I like loading you into the car and having a companion in the backseat to sing to.

Your dad has fully fallen for you. He's always plucking you out of my arms, wanting his turn. You give him the biggest smiles, and he knows it. You two stare at each other and smile and talk and grunt and clearly love each other’s company. In the mornings after you have a fully belly, your dad will take you into the living room and sit you in his arm while he reads the Bible. You're always so calm and quiet during this time of the day as you take in the sunlight on the ceiling and listen to your dad.

Your cry is still pretty quiet, but it is growing louder. You talk mostly in grunts and throaty swallow-sounds. You are super interested in ceiling fans and much to my surprise, your crib mobile. I had no idea that those mobiles were so practical. I actually thought they were more for decoration than anything, but you love it.

You are a sweet snuggler. When I put you on my shoulder to burp at night, you tuck your legs in as tight as you can and make a tiny little ball propped on my arm. I love this so much. And once the sun is up I'll sometimes bring you into our bed and sleep for our last bit with you breathing deep on my chest. There is absolutely no better feeling. It's my favorite thing in the world.

You love your paci, but we love your paci even more. It truly does pacify and I love how it helps you succumb to your sleepiness. You still wake up throughout the night about every three hours, but you're starting to stretch those hours a bit more now and we're thrilled at the thought of longer stretches of sleep.

You have changed our lives forever and all of the clichés are true. We’ve never been so in love. We can’t imagine life without you. .

We love you Ivar.

my boys

This was Ivar and Rory today before church. I am so glad I got this picture because I'm starting to notice a strong correlation between the cuteness of Ivar's clothes and blowout diapers and/or massive amounts of spit up. It seems the cuter the outfit, the faster he does something bodily that necessitates a costume change.

Today we lasted three minutes in church before I felt wetness on my leg...which was coming from the wetness on my son's back...which was coming from the wetness in his diaper. I wasn't at all put off by the mess we had on our hands, but I was so sorry he had to change out of his cute outfit before I could show him off!

vanity, vanity...

happy baby

merry christmas from Becca Groves on Vimeo.

Isn't it amazing to think that God came to us as a baby? I've been thinking about this so much this season, wondering what it must have been like for Jesus to suddenly be so dependent for all of his needs. He was God, after all, able to do all things. And then he came to earth to love and save the world, but born as baby who cried and ate and slept and smiled just like every other baby in the world.

My friend Shannon wrote in an email to me this week, "How amazing that a BABY born in the world and in us makes us open to life in a way that redeems us." I am feeling this amazement this year like never before.

I wish you the most joyous Christmas. I hope the birth of Jesus, God with us, overwhelms all of our hearts once again.

swedish sweaters

Ivar is named after his great grandpa. Grandpa Ivar, who we called Papa, could most often be seen wearing his Swedish sweaters. Even to a Pirate Birthday party as seen below:

I asked Rory's mom if she had anything special for little Ivar to wear for his Dedication, and the next morning she showed up with a Swedish sweater outfit from Hannah Anderson. This was the perfect outfit. It makes me sad that we'll never get a picture of the two Ivar's in their sweaters together. They would have liked each other so much.

When Ivar was still in my belly, I wrote our baby-to-be a long letter explaining the two names we had chosen and why we had chosen them. Here is part of that letter that explains why we chose our name for a baby boy:

Little baby,
It is early in the morning before the sun has come up, and I am wide awake wondering who you will be. We have two names picked out for you, and I’d be very surprised if we changed our minds. We have a strong girls name and a strong boys name and each one holds a lot of meaning for us. I want to tell you why.

If you are a boy, your name will be Ivar. This name is the name of your great grandpa on your dad’s side. Your great grandpa Ivar was a fantastic man of character, born to be a preacher. His speech had a particular cadence with his words chosen thoughtfully. He was a character in every imaginable way. His life stories seem epic now, hopping trains to get back and forth from Bible school, taking a ship over with his parents from Sweden as a boy, building churches in Ohio and Michigan.

We all called him Papa, and I have to tell you he welcomed me into the Groves family with arms wide open. That always meant so much to me. I knew he liked me from the start and I liked him right back. When your dad and I were first dating he was living in a senior home with a lot of Lutherans and Lutheran pastors. He paraded your dad around the dining hall table by table, introducing him and saying, “This is my grandson Rory. He is dating a Lutheran!” And he said it with enthusiasm, building a bridge to his friends at his home.

Little baby, your tiny little feet have some enormous footsteps to follow. The truth is, you could have been named after any of your great grandfathers or grandpas. You come from the strongest of men, filled with integrity and character. Each one has a life story that is filled with caring for others, determination, hard work and a belief in God that is so strong that it influences every single part of their daily life.

Your great grandpa Phil (grandma Margaret’s dad) was the hardest working man I have ever met. I remember being at his farm and getting so excited for Wheel of Fortune, because it was the only time the man sat still, so then the rest of us could rest, too. Great grandpa Phil could work nonstop doing physical things all day long. He was a successful farmer, raised seven kids and was active at his church his whole life.

Your great grandpa John (grandpa Paul’s dad) was a loyal worker to his company. He worked for the Burroughs Corporation, and I think that company had him move over a dozen times. He taught Sunday school most places where they moved and when he retired he kept using his skills and gifts to help raise money for the Lutheran Bible Institute.

Your great grandpa Madison (grandpa Madison’s dad) was an entrepreneur and a builder and he used his gifts to construct a home for orphaned children in Hot Springs, Arkansas. Your dad wishes so badly he could have known him more (he died when your dad was still very young) because it seems that your dad was given the same independence and self-confidence that his grandpa Madison had, born to create his own ventures.

And you, baby-to-be, could not be any more blessed than you are with your two Grandpa’s. Grandpa Paul and Grandpa Madison are both salt of the earth, and their deepest care is for other people. The church is the cornerstone of their lives, faithfully living out Jesus’ call to love one another and to share the good news. They love their families more than anything and are so excited for your arrival. In fact, your Grandpa Paul has already purchased his Grandparent’s Pass to the zoo, and you still have eight more weeks before you are due to arrive!

In all of your great grandfathers and grandpas there is a great sense of purpose for what they do and did with their time. What they believed in was the driving force behind their actions and ambitions.

Hear me on this. Whether you are born a girl or a boy, you will be given a family name, because we come from two families that have been blessed beyond measure. Your dad and I do not care what profession you choose. You could be a storyteller, a farmer, a preacher, a salesman, a fundraiser, an entrepreneur, an author, a contractor, or any other profession that fits your gifts. But we do care that you know your Maker. And whatever you do with your life, you live your life with as much passion and conviction and belief as the heritage of men and women who have gone before you. We care that you live your life boldly, make mistakes and move on, and that you are not afraid to live out the role God has custom created for you.

We love you more than I could have ever imagined love. Your dad talks to you every day and we are filled with wonder and awe thinking of how fearfully and wonderfully you are made.

We are so excited to be your mom and dad.

our blessed baby

Rory's dedication

Becca's baptism

When Rory and I were dating we had a lot of long conversations about how we would raise our kids with our different denominational backgrounds. It never felt like our upbringings were really at odds with each other though. We both were taught of the love of Jesus and felt committed to our callings to serve God and the world and people he created.

When the conversation came up about infant baptism vs. dedication we sort of picked apart what the hope is for each. And maybe we oversimplified, and I'm sure there are some theologians out there who might take issue with our decision, but for us, infant baptism and dedication are both a public proclamation of the parents saying, "this is God's kid. we're committed to raise him to love Jesus, to know his Maker and to study and live out God's word." And in either service the onus is on God- this is God's work, this baby is God's masterpiece, and we the parents, family and sponsors gathered here promise to do our part to make sure the seeds of faith are planted and nurtured.

In the past month, Ivar was both baptized and dedicated. This may be unconventional and abnormal, but for us it felt right. Both days were holy and wonderful. Both days our baby was surrounded by faithful family and friends who promise to walk beside us as we raise Ivar to love and fear our God. And both days were us recognizing and remembering that Ivar is God's kid first and now it is our great responsibility to raise him in the faith so that he may know and love Jesus like we know and love Him.

Ivar's baptism

Ivar's dedication

42 years

Yesterday was my mom and dad's 42nd wedding anniversary! Rory, Ivar and I met them for supper last night and heard their story...how they met, their quick 6 weeks of dating before getting engaged and all about their wedding. When we left I thanked them for sticking together. I don't take for granted the fact that my folks are still married. It's the greatest gift they could have ever given me and my marriage. I have learned so much from them as they modeled what it looks like to fight fair, to love each other well and to still enjoy and appreciate each others company! Here's a blast from one of those 42 years in the past:

oh baby

Special thanks to cousins Claire, Simon and Penny for this adorable hand-me-down. It necessitated yet another photo shoot. Ivar is growing out of his clothes so fast and it bums me out so much because this tiny stuff is ADORABLE. It just means that I have a line up of outfits he will wear the next few days so that I can at least document the cuteness before it is put away for another baby.

This next picture sums up how Ivar feels about the photoshoots in his future:Rory and I can't stop laughing at this picture.

a bit of snow

I don't know how I missed the memo that a blizzard was coming. I hadn't heard we were even supposed to get snow until Friday night when Rory came home excitedly and told me we were in for a lot of snow. Even during the day on Saturday I told my sister, "it's odd the snow is drifting in our yard so high. We don't usually get drifts in our yard." Turns out it wasn't drifting at all in our yard...it's just that 17 1/2 inches of snow (the reported final number in Minneapolis) makes the whole city look like one enormous snow drift.
This is the path Rory dug to the alley for us to get to church. Unfortunately, our Jeep was completely buried and had a four foot plow wall on the alley side, so driving the Jeep today was not an option. Rory's dad came to our house this morning to pick us up so we could make it to church.

This afternoon we spent two hours digging the car out, and we still can't really get anywhere because the side streets haven't been plowed. (So sad to miss Beth's party. Ergh.) So we're hunkered down again and staying toasty inside. We've got a predicted -25 windchill coming our way tonight. brrrrr....

hibernation day

Thanks to my Nebraska friend Betty Dasenbrock for this Christmas Quilt! She gave it to me in July and I remember dreaming of the day I would have my baby wiggling around on it during Christmastime. It felt so far off, and yet time flies by and here we are...

The snow is coming down and we are so grateful not to have any place to go…and nothing really to do, either. (Other than perhaps take a stab at the thank you notes that are waiting for me to write...) So given our clean slate of a day, we started the morning off with a photo shoot. And then we moved on to digging through the 12 dozen cookies I came home with yesterday from The Great Lisa Groves Christmas Cookie Swap Spectacular. I will have you know that I am trying to put these cookies in the freezer before this snowed-in mama and daddy eat them all up themselves. Twelve different kinds of cookies, twelve of each kind (oreo truffles might be the favorite). That is a lot of butter and sugar sitting on our countertop right now.

We actually would have needed to dig our car out this morning if we hadn’t played our part as first time parents so well. You see, Ivar was asked to be Baby Jesus in the Shepherd of the Valley Christmas pageant that is to be held today. He would be held by a 5th grader dressed as Mary with her robe cinched with a rope. There are stairs involved and even though the role of Jesus is clearly the role of a lifetime, we had Ivar decline. It just made us too nervous! I told the Christian Education director that she should ask us again on our third or fourth baby. By then we’ll probably drop the baby off at the curb and swing by an hour later to pick it up. (No, not really… But I do imagine we would be more willing.) At any rate, it’s snowing like crazy and I’m so happy we don’t have to hop in the car.

We got our tree last Saturday and last night Rory put the lights on it. Perhaps by next Saturday we will have ornaments on it. Projects like this just take a whole lot longer lately. I was thinking yesterday that the Food Network should have a one-handed cooking show. Similar to Rachel Ray’s 30 minute meals, this show would show you how to prepare family friendly meals while holding a fussing baby. Maybe the baby would begin the show in a swing or a rumble buns, but right at the crucial meal prep moment, the baby would start crying and then the host could show you what in the world you are supposed to do then…with an upset child and eggs and pancakes on the stove.

Thankfully the house did get decorated for Christmas thanks to my mom getting snowed in with us last weekend. (This has been quite the fantastic Minnesota snowy winter so far. And I love it.) Mom and I had attended a funeral together and then for her birthday I took her to a handmade craft fair downtown. By the time we were done at the craft fair, the snow was too heavy for dad to come and pick her up. So she held Ivar all night while I plowed through every Christmas box. I know it was her birthday, but I felt like it was mine. I am certain those boxes would still be sitting in the middle of the living room.

Anyway, I just wanted to drop a few lines here today. We got Ivar a swing this week and if we set it by the tree he is entertained/hypnotized to sleep for good chunks of time. Hence my ability to blog! Hooray! Happy Snow Day, everybody. Hope you can hibernate too.

keeping it real

I'm here.

Hello Blog. It’s been a while.

I have been wanting to get on here quite often since Ivar was born. A few days it has worked out, but most days it has not. I have lots to say… things I am really excited to share. Each day I begin hopeful that perhaps this is the day I might get those thoughts written down. But by bedtime I wonder, once again, if they will ever see the light of day.

This is okay, I suppose. I am enjoying my life right now in every way possible. I keep waiting for baby blues to set in or some sort of sadness. I know this is normal for lots of women, and aware these feelings could drop in at anytime. But at the moment I am still riding a happy cloud, loving my baby and my role as his mama. Even in the dead of night when I zombie-walk into his room, the moment I see him I am overwhelmed by how much I adore this baby of mine.

There is so much I want to remember and reflect on…which is primarily why I use this blog. So even though life is rich and full and therefore lacking time to blog, it is for those very reasons that I want so badly to blog.

I want to tell you about Ivar's baptism and how special it was to have my dad leading that service. I want to tell you about a dear friend’s funeral and how the miracle of life and eternity have been filling my thoughts. I want to tell you about the first five weeks with Ivar Nicholas and how quickly he is changing (he is smiling now!). Part of me wants to be sad that he is already out of his newborn clothes, but I decided recently I won’t be sad that he is growing. This is the whole point. It would be sad if he wasn’t growing…so I’ll just love him every growing day.

I really do hope to be able to blog more often. But know that when I do, it is because blogging outweighed whatever else I needed to get done in that pocket of time. For example, right now, my hair and bangs are air drying. I fit in the shower, but decided to hop on the computer instead of blow dry. (If you see me in the next 24 hours and my hair is dumpy, you'll know why...)

Here's to hoping I'll write something tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the day after that. Or this weekend sometime... Or maybe next week. Or the week after that...