Oliver Vane

Waving, Turning Pages, Clapping

Yesterday Jon commented how amazing are the sudden developments, like a light switch, of babies. One day they stare a little vacantly, little balls of goo. The very next day, it seems, they have direct eye contact, are alert and interactive, and seem to be gesturing and making meaningful noises, trying to communicate.
This week Oliver waved at me. He looked at me, intently, put his little hand high in the air, and did a little twirl with his wrist. I egged him on, waving excitedly above him, come on, Oliver, wave, wave, and he looked deeper into my eyes and rolled that little wrist around harder.
He sits up tall now and throws his arm in the air with a little "ugh!" like a kid who desperately wants to answer a question in class. Sometimes he puts his thumb and first finger together, making a little "o," and waves that hand around like a director bringing all the consonants together at the end of a phrase.
Oliver will sit in my lap for a whole book or two--short board books, of course. He likes to help me turn the pages. I was so excited to see his efforts go toward a meaningful end: turning the page. He's still wobbly and will thrust the book in all directions when we're finished reading.
Today Jon got half of a clap from Mr. O. Jon held one of Oliver's hands, and Mr. O banged it with the other hand in a half-clap. "Yeahh!!!!! Oliver" we yelled. We're excited to see him develop these milestones.

Bananas












Here is the beginning of our campaign for Oliver to hold his own food and eat bigger lumps: bananas.

Comparison

Audrey was born and she cried passionately in my arms before she was whisked away for her first bath. She cried at one in the morning all through my first shower. Her dad held her, spoke softly to her, bounced her, walked the room, and still she screamed. We made it through sleeplessness and ear-splitting screaming cries. When she calmed down, she was equally sweet, and jubilant. We loved her. We adored her. She was and remains our bright light, a dazzling fountain spewing joy.

Oliver was born and I noticed his voice—focused on it—right away. He was across the room, doted on by a swat team of pediatric medical staff. His voice was clear and beautiful, a chorus of bells. He had a sweet, delicious cry, a yearn, earnest and soft, like love. Back in our room, Oliver hardly cried. He winced if his bassinette was bumped in the least. He noticed bright lights, noise in the hall. But he rarely cried. When he did, I knew he was serious.
There are so many ways Audrey and Oliver are alike. They look like siblings—both favoring their dad especially when first born. They get along very well, and remind me of a couple of bunnies, hopping over each other and rolling about, fluffy little balls of warm delight. And they are each unique.
One of Audrey’s first tantrums that I remember was in the supermarket. Everyone heard. I held my ground, refusing to let her eat the entire shopping list. But it was with white knuckles that I finished shopping. My head ached and my ears rang afterwards. By then she was laughing.
Oliver’s first tantrum was almost sweet. He was sitting in the floor and simply leaned forward, gently laying his right ear on the ground, and let out the loudest, most pathetic cry of anguish. I hurt for him, yet had to smile. Oh, Oliver, it will be okay. Oh, baby. I almost giggled, so tortured his cry for something small, thinking of life’s cruel boundaries.
Now that Audrey is two, she loves to take her bitter vitamins, sucking them from the dropper like candy. She has always liked taking medicines. Oliver winces and thrashes, shivers with disgust. In fact, he won’t eat, for that matter, anything but cereal. Audrey ate everything but bananas.
When Audrey was an infant, I could hardly leave her. I never left her with a sitter for more than an hour, tried to make that during her nap, and always kept my cell phone in hand. I was a nervous cat. She was a clingy kitten with claws dug in deep. If she realized I was gone, it was almost unendurable—for her and the care-giver.
Oliver is happy so long as he is not ignored. He has worked easily with every loving caregiver we’ve had, and I’ve felt free to go on excursions up to two or three hours from the time he was quite young. I still hate to be gone for more than an hour, but I know Oliver will be okay, really; there’s far less panic.
Audrey seemed tough and determined—as long as she felt secure. She might get mad and scream, and scream without forgetting the object of her desire. She has a deep curiosity that delights in goodness, and knows what is good for her (for the most part). Both kids do. Oliver will cry if I look at him wrong—a very pathetic wail, so sad, so loud. He seems more hurt than mad. Even his deepest angst comes to an end before too long. He doesn’t stay bitter.
Audrey slept through the night from very early on. Jon and I had a few nights of standing outside her door, shivering in terror as she screamed, both determined to wait ten minutes before “rescuing her,” trying to help her go to sleep on her own. She will sleep through most anything once she gets to sleep.
Oliver slept with us at times, stayed in his bassinette too long, and was quickly whisked up at the slightest peep, least he wake his sister. I tried to let everyone else rest, at the expense of my own sleep and getting Oliver in a good routine. I’m still nursing my nine-month-old a couple of times during the night. Jon has joked that if a mouse farts Oliver will wake. It’s true: one toe in his room, and the nap is over, he’s up in the night, and he may not go back to sleep.
Audrey’s smiles come from a specific delight. She focuses on a person or a thought and peaks a brilliant beam, showers a fountain of giggles. Oliver will look at me from across the room and smile. He smiles so many times during the day that it’s as if he is a doll from Santa’s workshop, a smiling wonder.
Perhaps the cutest and most joyful moments are when the kids are together. Audrey notices Oliver and cries, “Baby!!!!!Baby! Baby! Baby!” She giggles at him and shares with him, hugs him, pats him, looks out for him, and tries to keep him out of the cat bowl. Oliver has a Nancy Reagan gaze for his sister. When she is in the room, no one else exists. She is his universe. He looks at her, and smiles. He laughs a great suck-in laugh, just seeing her. It’s a marvelous orbit they share.

9 Month Check-Up

Oliver had his 9-month well-baby appointment last week. He weighed 21.3 pounds, was 29 1/4 inches long, and had a head circumference of 46 (that must be cm).
I was a little worried because Oliver changed percentile on his growth curve, moving down a tad on the scale, but the pediatrician said not to worry. She said he might be finding his true self. And he has been moving more, crawling and cruising. Plus, Oliver refuses to eat much of his baby food. She said, "he's doing this to himself;" well, that didn't make me feel better. So she suggested that he eat more finger foods. We pushing those, watching him closely, as we hand him whole slices of fruit, bread, and whatever seems soft enough. Most of it goes all over him, as the pediatrician said it would. But he loves the independence.
I was so worried, though, that it took a lot of convincing from the doctor and the nurse to get me out of the clinic. They re-weighed and re-measured him (at least one measurement had been off). Then they both looked at me and said, "He looks long. He looks solid. There are marshmallow babies and Michelin Man babies. Yours is a Michelin Man." The picture in my mind was of two equally fluffy white blobs, one round and one with rolls. But what she meant was that Oliver is impressively "solid" and strong.
I had to agree: he is solid--a very handsome and healthy boy.

Audrey Feeding Oliver







Last week Oliver finally started eating anything besides cereal. He ate a baby food container of prunes in just two days--all gone. Hurray! He still makes a face when he first tries a food, especially sweet potatoes, but it's progress.

This morning we were finishing breakfast, I was clearing the table, and Audrey decided to feed Oliver herself. He was delighted.

I love to watch these two interact. Episodes usually ensue with laughter. She is so little mamma, big sister, playful with him; he's completely enthralled and adoring of her.

Audrey

Drawing Owie

I was working at my desk--a quick moment of deep concentration--when Audrey said, "Brodder owie, Mommy. Brodder ah ah owie." I turned around to find the "owie" all over his back--she had drawn on him and herself. When I tried to take the pen away, she quickly chose a piece of paper, redirected her attention, and got very serious.

Orange--Monkey

October is my favorite month. I love seeing the kids in orange. Audrey notices pumpkins everywhere. I love being drawn out of my thoughts and into her line of sight as she bursts out excitedly, "Pumpkin! There's anoder-one-a pumpkin, Mommy! Pumpkin!"
And here is Monkey. Trusted friend. Loyal cohort. Sweet, soft, cuddly--perfectly sized. Jon and I bought him at Toys R Us one fall like this. We had just found out that we were pregnant, and while shopping for other kids (and not finding what we were looking for), we found, instead, Monkey. I couldn't resist a little gift for our baby. Now it's Audrey's favorite go-everywhere comfort object. We all love Monkey.

Yeah!

Some phrases suddenly don't sound so good when coming from the mouths of babes. We didn't know we'd taught it to her, but then again, maybe it's just easier to say, "Yeah,"--for everything.

"Audrey went to the store today..."

"Yeah."

"And she helped Mommy pick out the milk..."

"Yeah."

"Audrey, would you like a cup of milk?"

"Yeah!"

"Where is your sippy cup, Audrey?"

"Yeah."



Another word Audrey pipes more surprisingly is, "Oh!"

(Closet door opens) "Audrey, what are you doing?"

"Yeah."

"Audrey, close the closet door please--right now."

(Pause) "Oh!" (Slam)


In addition to words, Audrey has distinctive gestures now. When she gets excited and runs, she brings up her arms and swings them hard, her fists pumping near her face. She is trying on new faces and reactions to see how they go. She laughs a forced, contrived laugh, scrunching her nose, "no," as if, "you know I don't want broccoli--more goldfish!" It makes her seem grown up.

Hair

Yesterday I was sitting on the edge of my bed, feeding Oliver, while Audrey combed her hair in the full-length mirror, getting ready to go. Before I knew it, she was behind me, her hands gently coursing my tresses, brushing, and saying, "Preeeety hair, mommy. It's so preeeeeety."

Numbers and Colors

Today during a morning run I said, "Let's count in Spanish," as I do so often. So far the big participation from Audrey has been to say, "Ready, Go!" when I finish each round, one to ten, then each set of ten, then the teens, and so forth. But today, Audrey quietly started counting in Spanish with me.
Then she started the counting, and I was repeating after her.
Then she said one number, I said the next, and she followed with the next, back and forth, and so on.
What fun! Hearing Audrey pipe up with what she has been soaking in is delightful.
We're working on colors, but those are coming slower than letters or numbers. Everything is "Yeeeeallow!!!!" I've tried to introduce other colors, but so far, Audrey just thinks hard about it. She'll repeat after me, but recognizing them is another issue. A couple of weeks ago she had a new-to-her kind of juice, and asked for it later in the day: "Greenjuice?"
 
 

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Steve Green is one of the greatest Christian musicians of our time. He has been honored with four Grammy nominations, 13 No. 1 songs, and seven Dove Awards, Christian mu­sic’s highest honor. He was once named Male Vocalist of the Year in the Contemporary Christian Music (CCM) category.

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Get to know Steve Green



Contemporary Christian music artist Steve Green comes to Colorado Springs April 5. Steve joins The Village Seven Sanctuary Choir, Pikes Peak Village Singers and Orchestra in a never-to-be-forgotten concert of worship and ministry at Village Seven Presbyterian Church April 5 at 6:00 p.m.

Steve Green is a trailblazer in contemporary Christian music. Throughout his years of ministry his music has been honored with four Grammy nominations, 13 No. 1 songs, and seven Dove Awards, Christian music’s highest honor. With 23 recordings to his credit, including children’s projects and Spanish-language albums, Green has sold over three million albums worldwide.

Steve’s break out year came in 1985 with the release of He Holds the Keys, which earned Green the Male Vocalist of the Year in the Contemporary Christian Music (CCM) category. Many of his songs have become recognized standards, including “People Need the Lord” and “Broken and Spilled Out.” He has often been considered the male version of Sandi Patti, using many of the same songwriters and styles as well as the traditional ending songs on a (literal) high note.

Born in Portland, Oregon to missionary parents, Steve is one of six siblings who spent much of their early lives in Argentina. His bilingual abilities have enabled the release of six Spanish CDs in the United States, and much international ministry.

“I’ve been doing this for a long time now,” Steve says. “With each passing year, I’m asking God and myself these questions: ‘Is this the place where I can most effectively glorify Him? Can what I do be explained simply by natural means or is there the evidence of God’s presence and power? Am I still approaching every event as if it were my last chance to communicate God’s truth?” Steve confesses that he still feels a joyful responsibility and strong urgency to share the gospel, encourage believers in their faith, and invite others to God’s gracious gift of salvation.
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What shapes our worship?

Worship does truth. The ancient church captured how worship does truth in the phrase lex orandi; lex credendi; est. [One] way to state the essence of this Latin phrase is to say, “Show me how you worship and I’ll show you what you believe.” If how we worship shapes what we believe, then it is imperative that we pay attention to how we worship. If worship is shaped by culture, it will result in a culturally conditioned faith. If worship is shaped by narcissism, it will result it a me-oriented consumer faith.

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