This is how long we’ve been in Oregon. Long enough to make an Oregon baby and see him smile. Growing up the majority of our lives in Washington, it still feels strange to think of Oregon as home. I think that when I sleep, I still dream with my home being a small town on the Puget Sound, but slowly that chapter is being pushed a page back as we write Part Three, Chapter One: Oregon.
Oliver is a gentle reminder that we can (and should) plan out our lives, but God determines our steps. He’s a blessing we didn’t know we needed. As I sit here typing while he naps nearby, I’m reminded of an instagram picture I posted nearly a year ago. I snapped a picture of our fingers wrapped together as AJ and I pulled onto the freeway with two sugar-high kids and the rest of the Halloween stash conveniently between our seats. Let the adventure start! I thought. Little did I know that adventure meant moving to a new state and having a baby.
I guess I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. Several times lately, AJ and have looked at each other across a messy room while two of our children play a game of tag between the dining room and the living room, and the third child is attempting to give his father a hickey in his constant search for food. Here we are–being all grownup and starting a new life a whole state away from everything we know. I mean, it’s not like it’s unheard of, and both of our parents have done something similar, but still. Sometimes I feel like there just has to be a Moving to a Place You Don’t Know Anyone For Dummies. But for real, this last year was not a whole lot easier than the year before it, and considering the humdinger of a year that 2012 shaped up to be, that’s saying something.
Anyway. The whole point of this blog was to acknowledge Oliver with more than just a few pictures and also to get a blog down in October. Yeah, I know it’s the 26th, but procrastination is kind of my style. Back to Oliver. This time last year, if you had suggested his imminent arrival, I would have kicked you in the shins. Now, I look at his sweet face and I’m so glad I get to know him and be his Mom. Yes, there’s a whole new dynamic to having more children than arms, and we pretty much live off of leftovers, and right now the little punk is up every three hours at night, but there’s nothing sweeter than coaxing smiles from his cute face at 3am.