The Salad Days

"My hero..."

2013-08-13T05:18:00.002+01:00

My brother joined our family when I was 13 years old.

As a much older sibling, I vividly remember watching him grow up. Finding toy cars or army men lined up along the kitchen counter. Watching his favorite Disney movies at least a thousand times. Cuddling him up, in his favorite Simba jammies.

But, of all the little details that I remember from his childhood, one stands out from the rest. A moment when he became upset that I wasn't wearing my seatbelt. How he told me that I was important to him and that wearing my seatbelt would keep me safe. How his big blue eyes - so earnest, so protective - fixed on me, as he made me promise that I'd always wear it. How half a year later, I was told that wearing a seatbelt had saved my life.

Which is, of course, ridiculous.

A seatbelt did not save me.

My six year old brother did.

And now, my little hero is all grown up.

He's joined the Marines and begins training in January.

He has committed to serve our country. To protect those that are vulnerable. And, if called upon, to give up that which is most dear.

No life is guaranteed.

I know this all too well.

And the randomness of it all is both comforting and terrifying.

So, what should we do?

Stay safe and snug by the fireside or burn a flaming streak across Life's darkest skies?

This is a choice we all must make.

You made a brave decision, baby brother.

And I am proud of you.

Catch fire.

Burn bright.

With a light that rivals the moon and outlasts all the stars.

I love you.

"Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."

-Mark Twain

"I wish it would rain down..."

2013-08-07T04:33:00.001+01:00

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"The world is mud-lucious and puddle-wonderful."

-E.E. Cummings

"Sunshine of your love..."

2013-07-30T18:06:00.003+01:00

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After I drop Maren off at camp, I come home and put Rhys down for one of his many catnaps of the day. I usually look forward to this time. 20 minutes on my own to listen to music or throw in a load of laundry or tidy the kitchen or return a few emails. If I'm lucky, I may even get to do all four. But, every now and then, my ears ring from the quiet. I miss the way her bubbly chatter fills the house. I miss her bouncing, whirling, busy energy. I miss the way she tucks her chin to her chest when she has the giggles or the goofy way she smacks the palm of her hand on her forehead when she's thinking really hard about something.

But, then I see her lamb.

And "the guys" passed out after a rowdy party in the teepee.

I walk through a few of the 700 balloons lying around, in various states of deflation.

I see a feather at one end of the table.

And the fashion statements at the other.

I find the things that fascinate her.

The things she finds beautiful.

I see the row of shells on the windowsill that she has marked with 'signals'.

And the pair of cicada casings she has arranged to climb the curtains.

I gather up the many, many drawings.

As a naturally tidy person, I put away the toys or clothes as I move through the morning.

But, I leave a good deal undisturbed.

Because some things aren't messes to clean.

They are pieces of her.

Her imaginations. Her investigations. Her inspirations.

Touchstones or explorations for her to come back to.

In the meantime, they keep her near to me.

They keep me company.

These little shadows of her bright mind.

Soon, we will go pick her up.

We'll hear the story of her day.

We'll see what color popsicle she ate when she sticks out her tongue at us.

We'll smell the bug spray, fingerpaint, stinky shoes and graham crackers.

And bask once more in the sunshine of her love.

"What the water gave to me..."

2013-07-28T01:58:00.006+01:00

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My parents bought this sprinkler for Maren. Oh, and those goggles too.

Toys from the dollar store, some water and a sunny afternoon.

A perfect cocktail of summer fun.

And while she splashed, they had a tailgate party.

Serving up grins and giggles and deliciously rosy cheeks.

Ah, so much love and laughter in these visits.

And never enough time.

Come back soon, Mama and Daddy.

"Us against the world..."

2013-07-16T03:42:00.001+01:00

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This weekend, Maren and I made a little teepee for one.

But, she assured me it was big enough for two.

And it was.

"i and love and you..."

2013-07-14T02:36:00.000+01:00

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Me: "Do you know that I love you, little girl?"
Maren: "Mama, I know that. I know it at the bottom of my heart. Because that was the first thing that my heart knew."

Since your first. Until my last. And with every beat in between.
I will love you, my wild and beautiful child.

"Hang on..."

2013-07-03T02:45:00.002+01:00

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Jake's car died.

The plumbing sprung a leak and the termites came back.

The kids got sick and Daddy did too.

The washer broke.

And then the dryer.

My plea for Jake and Maren to quit arguing ended with them arguing.

The baby is teething.

And it has been pouring rain for more than a week.

But, look at what else.

A surprise.

A ceasefire.

An act.

A milestone.

Levity.

Gravity.

Our time.

Her generosity.

His trust.

Their bond.

My magnum opus.

So, blow wind! Crack your cheeks!

I will find shelter in these moments.

And with knuckles white and muscles aching,

I will hang on tight.

"Simple kind of man..."

2013-06-25T22:29:00.000+01:00

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Four months with a delicious baby yet not a single post all about him. Shame on me! Obviously I'm not going to be the bloggy mommy that does weekly or even monthly baby posts, but I can probably manage quarterly (er, almost) updates. So, without further ado, here's a run down on all things Rhys! Name Since he was made in the UK, we gave our son a lovely Welsh name. It means enthusiasm or ardor and, in some interpretations, it even means dragon. I'm often asked how to say his name, so in case you are wondering too, it is pronounced just like the American name Reese.

"No one is ever going to say my name right. Or spell it right. Thanks guys."

Nicknames We are wild about nicknames. Each of us has at least 10 and we rarely call one another by our "real" names. So, it's no surprise that our little guy already has a big list of goofy names. There's the obvious: Rhysy Roo (ree-see-roo) and Rhy-Rhy (ree-ree). The nonsensical: Sha-Sha-Shoo and Goo-Goo. The religious: Pious the First and Brother Rhys, due to his tendency to pose with prayer hands.

"Oh the indignity!"

And last but not least, his formal names: Mr. Popper, Mr. Pork or the terribly ostentatious, Mister Wister Puddin' and Pie.

"Just try calling me those names. I'll give you a knuckle sandwich."

Growth Following in his sister's footsteps, he has been in 90th percentile for both height and weight at every check up. Right now, he weighs a little over 17 pounds and measures 26 1/4 inches long. This means that in the first quarter of his life, I have already packed away three clothing sizes! But, thanks to the generosity of friends, we have bags of pre-loved clothes all the way through size 18 months waiting to be worn. And, since he is now in size 9-12 months, he won't have long to wait!

His and hers laundry piles.

Eating I once read a quote from a mother that said, "I don't count nursing sessions any more than hugs or kisses." And, since I am fortunate enough to do so, I have fed both my kids in this way, with no need to watch the clock. As for solid food, we didn't offer it to Maren until she was 6 months old and since Rhys seems to be growing fine through nursing alone, we plan to do the same with him.

Sleep His naps are super short and frequent but his nighttime sleep is quite good. I'm one of those silly superstitious people that was completely brutalized by a first child that never slept, so I'm reluctant to say much more about his sleep for fear of jinxing it. I will say that one of my favorite things about him is that even though he likes to be walked to sleep for naps, he insists on putting himself to sleep for the night. He lays next to me, tosses and turns, coos and gurgles, stretches and kicks. Then, after his eyes drift open and closed a few times, he turns to look at me and smile before closing his eyes for the night. It is one of my very favorite moments of every day. Well, that and waking up next to this sweet face.

I also love that he has never taken a swaddle - neither of my kids did - but instead sleeps in 'surrender' pose.

MusicI enjoy figuring out what sort of music my kids like. When Maren was a baby, she liked reggae, Gordon Lightfoot and a horribly repetitive kid's song (La La Lemon) that I hope to never hear again as long as I live. Rhys is a more mellow guy and his music tastes are too. He likes John Denver, The Civil Wars, REM and Bela Fleck (only the Perpetual Motion CD). He loves the songs Row, Row, Row Your Boat and You Are My Sunshine. And he love-love-LOVES to have The Hokey Pokey sung to him. In fact, when he starts to come unglued - which usually only happens in the car - singing The Hokey Pokey is the only thing that can bring him back around.

"Put your right hand in...oh, it gets me every darn time!"
Development Rhys has literally smiled every day since he was born and has now begun to give the best belly laughs. He enjoys holding and exploring small toys - especially rattles or balls - and he likes to be read or sung to. He is also quite affectionate - he loves holding hands, stroking our faces and has even started to put his arms around our neck as though he is giving us a hug. But what he seems to really love is moving! He has been rolling from tummy to back and back to tummy since just shy of 3 months old and is now doing successive rolls. Right now he is working on scooting and pushing up - in fact, just a few days ago, he drew his legs underneath him and moved forward three times! - and he is thisclose to sitting up on his own. In the meantime, he enjoys sitting in the Bumbo that his sister hated.

"Bumbo? This is the Iron Throne, baby!"

And, although I don't see any pearly whites, he is most certainly teething. This week, he was quite unsettled and uncomfortable and gnawing on everything in sight. We bought him a Sofie. I'm not sure it's all it's cracked up to be, but it is cute.

"Ma, buying this giraffe was a total waste of money."

Play He lays on his back to grab his toes or lays on his tummy to reach for rattles or balls. He likes getting his tummy tickled, playing Patty Cake, splashing in the bath, getting hoisted into the air and swatting at touch-n-feel books. He loves to watch his sister play and absolutely lights up when she talks or sings to him. And he truly loves being outdoors. I think he'd happily sit outside all day if we could, but sadly it has become much too hot to go for more than a short walk.

Personality As a baby, Maren had a complex and intense temperament but Rhys has a much simpler, gentler kind. Smiley. Observant. Friendly. Affectionate. Flexible. Settled. Those are the words that come to mind when I think about my son. Like his mama, he's happy to do low-key things, loves going for walks and enjoys watching what is going on around him. And like his dad, he is happy to meet new people, quick to laugh and reluctant to be mad. When he does get mad, he can blow the doors right off the barn (like his mama and his sister), but generally speaking he is easy to entertain and soothe and happy to love and be loved. The only thing that he definitely doesn't like is riding the car, but even that is getting better with each week that passes. Overall, he's a pretty easy going, loving little guy. One that I'm sensing (hoping?) will balance the introvert to extrovert ratio in our house.

"I'm your Huckleberry, ma."
Just a few months ago, Rhys was little more than a name and a grainy photo of a pair of feet that made us giggle.

And now, I can't even remember what our family was like without him.

Four months in and madly in love.

I look forward to a lifetime of getting to know him and watching him grow.

And I thank my lucky stars that I get to be his mama.

"Gray or Blue..."

2013-06-17T14:30:00.000+01:00

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I'm a bit too bossy.

She's a drama queen.

And he's a little mess maker.

But, despite our faults, you keep on smiling.

You keep on trying to see the best in us.

And, somehow, that makes us the best possible version of ourselves.

Good times or bad.

Gray skies or blue.

We three crazy people sure love you.

Happy Father's Day.

"I can't give you anything but love..."

2013-06-10T02:38:00.001+01:00

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As parents, Jake and I get a whole range of emotions from Maren. We get the sweet, the sour and everything in between. But Rhys? He is completely and utterly doted on.

Constantly entertained.

Cooed at, kissed and cuddled.

Brushed, bundled and kissed some more.

So, how does Rhys feel about all the constant attention?

Well, I can't be certain but...

I think he might like it just fine.

"Never grow up..."

2013-06-03T04:09:00.001+01:00

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Almost exactly a year and a half ago in England, Jake got a black eye playing rugby and I photographed the progression of his bruise during the week that followed. So, when Maren got her first shiner last weekend - in the exact same spot as her dad's! - we all thought it'd be fun to take photos of her bruise as it changed.

Day One

Day Two

Day Three

Day Four

Day Five

You may notice in the last two photos that Maren had started to lose interest in the photo series. So, on day five, we stopped. But, just so you know, the bruise has now faded and is, essentially, all better.

This post - like all my posts - is titled after a song. But, rather than one that I know, as they usually are, this is a song that I heard for the first time during the week of "the shiner series". It played at Maren's dance studio, as I held her sleeping brother and watched her doing shuffle steps and pas de chats and giggling with her classmates. It played as she turned around and shot me an "i love you" in sign language. It played as I wriggled a hand free to shoot her one back and watched Rhys stir in my arms, flash a gummy smile and go back to sleep. It played as I looked back and forth from one of my children to the other with tears filling my eyes. It played as I realized the warning that having a second baby would make time go by twice as fast was absolutely, heart wrenchingly right. And I play it now, as I look at these photos. Seeing a young girl rather than my quirky baby or traveling toddler. It is playing as I see that Maren's bruise is not all that is changing.

This year's dance class was the first activity Maren attended without me or Jake by her side. Summer camp will be the first time she will be away from home for a few hours each day. Half days at preschool will come next and, in the years to come, those short classes will give way to full days of schooling, new friends and after school activities. Once she finishes school, she may decide to move to another city or even another country. She may go on to get a job or start a family or both. Whatever she chooses, ever so slowly and yet all too soon, new interests and new people will begin to fill up her days. All too soon, my days of leaving surprises for her to find when she wakes up or hugging her when she gets hurt or reading her a favorite story will end. All too soon I will become a voice on the telephone, a letter in the mail and a visit that passes before I'm ready to say goodbye.

Nursing, changing diapers, napping.

Playdates, potty training, travel.

Painting, reading, playing.

Answering every question in her active little mind.

Loving her so very, very much.

It all snuck up on me but here we are. After four and a half years of holding her close, it is time to slowly begin to let go. A bittersweet process that will last the rest of our lives.

Letting go of a hand I've held each day since it first touched mine.

Of a face I know every detail of by heart.

Of a person whose mind and heart are simultaneously my most precious gift...

and the most sacred thing I have to share.

As Maren takes these first steps into the world on her own, I think about who she is right now. She's a girl that wears Thomas the Train underwear under her pink leotard. A girl that genuinely fuh-reaks out with happiness that a new friend's name starts with the same letter as hers or that they both love the color pink. A girl that loves avocado and sunbutter sandwiches. A girl that takes the time to notice the flight of a flock of birds or the way the sky turns dark before a storm. A girl that hugs her Dada in front of her friends, shouts "I love you" to her mama across the playground and tells everyone she meets that she has the best little brother in the world.

She's a girl that falls down, gets hurt and tries again without a second thought.

She's a girl that shows up for her dance class' year end photo with a black eye and smiles without hesitation...feeling every inch as beautiful as she is.

Maren is four years old.
She is innocent and confident. Hopeful and curious. Brave and kindhearted.
She knows just who she is. And just what she likes.
She feels no pressure to be "cool" or "right" or "mainstream".
And she knows, without a doubt, that the people she loves most in the world think she's fine just the way she is.

In fact, they think she is more than fine.

As she steps out into the world, I hope three things:
That she never grows up to be simplified or watered down or made hard hearted.
That she always feels as safe and as treasured, as strong and as free as she does right now.

And, most of all, I hope that she never forgets the love and the fun and the magic in our first four years together...even if the details grow fuzzy in time.

"Running..."

2013-05-28T17:31:00.004+01:00

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Maren: "Dada, how old will Rhys be when I am 6?"
Jake: "He'll be 2."
Maren: "And how old will he be when I am 9?"
Jake: "He'll be 5."
Maren: "And what about when I am old enough to drive?"
Jake: "He'll be 12."
Maren: "And when do you think he will run?"
Jake: "Probably by your next birthday, I bet."
Maren: "Yea, but he won't run as fast as me, will he?"
Jake: "No, probably not. He'll still be little."
Maren: "Well, don't worry Dada. When we run, I'll make sure to slow down so he can catch up. And if he falls, I will pick him up and dust his hands off and hug him if he is crying."

All the tears. All the doubts.
All the growing pains in the last three months.
They are worth it.
Every single one.
So, so worth it.

"Shine..."

2013-05-19T17:14:00.000+01:00

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Last night, I took Maren for a spin on her new scooter and I watched the day's last sun rays shine.

This morning, Jake took Maren for a ride on her new scooter and he watched her get her first shiner.

Never a dull moment around here...

{PS: Many of you have let me know that you can't comment on my blog anymore due to a recent change with blogger. I'm so sorry! I'm trying to figure out how to fix it, but until then, feel free to comment on the blog's facebook page. You can find it by clicking here.}

"Mother Nature's Son..."

2013-05-16T19:52:00.000+01:00

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Me: "Rhys seems to be grumpy no matter what we do today. Well, except when we are outside. He's always happy outside."

Maren: "Yeah."

Me: "Why do you think that is?"

Maren: "I think it's because it amazes him."

Me: "What does?"

Maren: "The outside."

Me: "What do you think amazes him about being outside?"

Maren: "He likes looking up and seeing things. Like the green leaves and the tree bark. And the blue sky with the big white clouds. He sees birds and butterflies. He sees all that stuff and it amazes him."

Me: "You know...I think you are exactly right. All those things are amazing."

"No ordinary love..."

2013-05-12T19:52:00.000+01:00

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Three months ago today, my second child was born. Since I had been a parent for four years before his arrival, I expected to be a seasoned, confident mother with my son. And, in some ways, that has happened. I have skipped over many of the new parent blunders and anxieties. But, in other ways, I still feel very much like a new parent. With days full of adjustments, chaos and learning all about this little person I spend my days taking care of.

"Hey, who are you calling little?"

My first child was intense. Maren cried a lot. Slept very little. She hated the car, the stroller, wasn't interested in interacting with anyone but Jake or me and wanted to be held all.the.time. She was beautiful, clever and utterly exhausting.

"You better be bringing your A-game, Pops, because I am ready to rumble."

To parent her, I had to throw out everything I had ever learned or heard or even hoped about mothering a small child. I had to study Maren. Learn her. And chart a new course that would get us through her infancy. So, when I set out on this parenting journey for the second time, I expected to use the hard won strategies from Maren's baby days with Rhys. The trouble is...he isn't like her at all!

"She thought it was going to be that easy? Sucker!"
Rhys is mellow. He smiles and sleeps easily. He loves going for walks in the stroller. He likes to be held but is equally happy (sometimes more) to sit in a bouncy seat and observe. He enjoys his parents but doesn't mind being held by others. The only thing about his babyhood that resembles his sister's is his hatred of riding in the car, his off the charts growth and his love of sleeping by my side. Other than that, I've had to start all over. Studying him. Learning him. Finding our way.

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic. I'm easy like Sunday morning."

While pregnant, I remember worrying that there wouldn't be enough room in my heart to love a second child. It's a normal enough fear for many mothers transitioning from one to two children but it is such an alien thought to me now! As soon as I laid eyes on Rhys, my mind and heart were as full of love, worry, hope and fear for him as for his sister. I can no more imagine our life without his smile or his kissable cheeks than Maren's curious eyes or indefatigable energy. My worry about loving them both was completely unfounded. My worry about mothering both of my children at the same time, however, was right on target. For me, this hasn't been easy.

On the good days, I feel like I am clawing my way up the sheer, unforgiving face of motherhood - fingers bleeding, teeth clenched but still hanging on, determined and strong. On the bad days, I feel myself in an endless free fall - hair stuck to my tear streaked face and weighed down by guilt, resistance to change and the fear that my children will only remember the frenetic person I am right now rather than the one that takes the time to adore and enjoy them. Some days this makes me, a person not prone to crying, finish (or begin) the day in tears. Some days, even when I don't cry, I'm thisclose and am only saved by a handful of graham crackers, a well-timed hug or an early bedtime. Some days, I get so mixed up from wanting time to speed up or slow down or reverse entirely that my head swims. Some days, I am pretty sure my heart will shatter into a thousand pieces. And, some days, it does.

This emotional roller coaster feels so wrong. It makes me feel like I am failing. Like I'm just not "getting it". But, I'm starting to think that these feelings are...just normal. I'm starting to think that no matter how you do it, motherhood - new or not - is just one of the hardest damn things you will ever do. Like childbirth, it is full of tearful moments. Little losses of dignity. And the overwhelming fear during transition that you are just not.going.to.make.it. But, you survive these fits and starts. This stretching of your self. You bravely cast off your old lifestyle to welcome with trembling hands your new, terrifyingly glorious life. And, in the quiet of your mind, you marvel at the fragility and the durability of it all.

As a new mother of two, I've had to accept that the dinners I make are boring, that there is a pile of laundry constantly waiting to be folded, that some days (weeks?) we don't leave our neighborhood and that taking a 3 minute prison shower while singing to entertain my children is better than not washing at all. I've had to accept that my daughter is going call out for help on the potty the very moment my son falls asleep in my arms. Or that my son is going to cry to nurse or wake up from a nap the instant I sit down to read a book to my daughter. Or that both kids are going to meltdown when Jake and I try to have a conversation beyond the quick exchange about diapers or groceries or who fed the fish. Loving three people is easy. But, meeting all of their needs, at the same time, is not.

"Oh, Dad. You can talk to Mom when you are old. Just snuggle with me."

But, I have created two people. Grown them inside of me. Fed them from my body. Watched their little lives, so healthy and strong, unfold each day. And, that is no small thing. No wonder to be overlooked. No miracle to be overshadowed by a messy house or an ill-timed need.

I have made someone a sister. Someone a brother. Two people will share a childhood - and maybe a few expensive therapy bills - because of me. I have given two people a gift that no one else could: each other.

I am caring for young children. And, as much as I'd like to, I am not doing it right every day. No one in this house is getting as much of me as they want. Or as much as I want to give them. And I struggle with that. I wrestle with that. Sometimes, I get a roundhouse kick to the face by that. But, I know that I am starting to win more rounds with that than I lose. And I know that I am trying, with every beat of my heart, to be someone they can look up to, even when the chips are down.
Especially, when the chips are down.

"Nobody better be givin' my mama any roundhouse kicks. I'll go all Chuck Norris on that fool!"

The extraordinary difficulty of the last three months will not last. Just as quickly as the tiny clothes my boy is outgrowing have been packed away, these tough moments will soon be distant, even funny, memories. And, with any luck, from them a lasting bond will emerge. I catch glimpses of it in Rhys' face, as it lights up when he sees Maren. Or when Maren bursts into tears because she is worried that brother is crying. Or when all four of us have a laugh together or quietly read stories together in bed. In split seconds, I am filled with the love that is here in this house. And, out of the corner of my eye, I have visions of the love that is yet to come.

It is no ordinary love.

It is a love that makes me happy.

A love that makes me thankful.

Grateful for the gift these two have given me.

By breaking me down, they are building me into something better than I was before.

Something bigger than I ever could have been without them.

These two have made me their mama.

"Standing still..."

2013-05-06T15:30:00.003+01:00

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Friday was tough. Rhys spent much of the day grumbling in my arms as he tried (and failed) to nap. I spent much of the day tidying the house, folding diapers and getting dinner ready using one hand. And Maren spent much of the day playing quietly and mostly on her own. So, when Jake unexpectedly arrived home early from work, I passed him a recently fed baby and jumped into the car with my girl. Maren needed some bandaids. I wanted to quick print this photo for an overdue thank you card.

What's more adorable? The pink monogrammed doggie sleeping bag or Rhys' face at being stuffed inside it? It's a toss up.
And, more than bandaids and photos, we both just needed some time alone together. So, off we went to the drugstore.
As we drove down the road, she shouted for the red lights to turn green and squealed, "weeeee!" when we turned the corners or went over bumps. Without the baby in the car, I laughed and squealed along with her instead of shushing or asking her to keep her voice down. When we got out of the car, she slipped her small hand in mine and chatted with me about the sunny weather as we walked through the parking lot. Stepping inside, we were hit with a super cool blast of air conditioning and the best pop songs rained down on us from the store's overhead speakers. When this classic came on - a favorite of mine - I was so excited that I spun her around with one hand as I sang into the air microphone I was holding in the other.

Drugstores rock the big hair ballads and nothing else. And this is why they are so awesome.
Maren yelled, "Mom, stop it!", laughing so hard that her eyes squished shut and her head fell back, showing me all of her perfect little white baby teeth. When the song was over, we had a race down the aisles in search of character bandaids - a prized possession for any preschooler - and discovered that they were on sale, 2 for 1. Her eyes lit up like Christmas had come early as she picked out two boxes - one covered with princesses and one with fairies. Holding them tightly, she bounded toward the checkout line but got sidetracked when she spotted "fake hair" hanging alongside the hairbrushes and barrettes. Seeing it caused her to break into such a great belly laugh that I began to laugh and a shopper in the aisle with us started laughing too. As she giggled, I told Maren that this is the only thing in the world that Daddy thinks is truly gross...so, of course, we decided that we had to stop to send him a photo of her touching it.

"Why does Daddy think this is gross? It is so soft and shiny and beautiful!"
We finally made our way to the counter to pay. She cheerfully said goodbye and thanked the clerk, who placed the bag full of bandaids into her eager little hands. Slinging it over her shoulder, she took my hand in hers and we walked back to the car. On the way home, we listened to a favorite song and bounced in our seats, waving our arms wildly as we sang along. When I pulled the car into our driveway, she jumped out and started to run inside to show Daddy her treasures. But I caught her and scooped her up, even though she is quite the big girl these days and doesn't need to be carried anymore. Walking up the sidewalk with her in my arms, I noticed how long her hair has grown. How heavy she is now. And how her legs, which once curled up so neatly into my belly as I held her, now dangle nearly to my knees.
But for these last seconds of our 20 minute errand, our world was still standing still.
She wasn't growing up.
I wasn't too busy to notice.
It was just her, being my adorable four year old.
Me, being her adoring mommy.
Us, being best friends.

I breathed her in.

Then gently set her down on the doorstep and turned the key in the lock.

She dashed through the door I held open.

And I watched her disappear in a blur of blond hair, blue eyes and bandaids.

My arms empty, but my heart full.

"Perhaps..."

2013-04-26T18:54:00.001+01:00

{song clip}

maybe your eyes see the photographs, but you can't find the time to pick up your camera.

maybe you've been writing a blog post for 2 weeks.

maybe you've recently had to double check:

- your mom's phone number

- your OWN phone number

-what month it is

-whether or not you were wearing shorts...after walking to the end of the block

-whether or not you were still living in Oxford, upon hearing church bells chime

maybe a peacock wanders into your neighborhood, settles in a pine tree next to your bedroom window and now screams its strangled, hideous "HELLO" at 5am every godforsaken morning.

"Wait, what? You don't want to say hi at 5am? My bad."

maybe your daughter develops highly contagious fever blisters and you find yourself saying "wash your hands" or "don't touch that" so much that you are certain one or both of you are going to come out of the experience as Howard Hughes.

"Room for one more Howie? I've got my Lysol and white gloves all packed."

maybe three days after her fever blisters resolve, your daughter catches a cold and you add "blow your nose" or "don't wipe your nose on that" to your earlier hand washing reminders.

maybe as you try (and fail) to keep the sick kid and well kid apart, your husband uses the phrase "viral shedding" and you get so squirrely with anxiety that you are now pretty sure that at least you have become Howard Hughes.

"Oh, Mom. Who cares about those yucky illness causing biofilms all over us. Let us snuggle."

maybe your husband, away at TEDMED when the plague hits your kids, calls to share tales from his trip - his meetings with the high flyers in healthcare, the mind blowing talks he heard and the revolutionary projects he was asked to take part in - and the best you have to offer in return are stories of the blowout poop that filled an entire leg of the baby's sleep suit or the moment your daughter stuck a straw down her throat or how you thawed the giant container of chicken stock to freeze it into more manageable cubes with an ice tray.

"Richard, can I stay with you for a while? My place has become a nuthouse!"

maybe your daughter calls out for you in the middle of the night, in a pitiful voice thick with illness and tears, just as your son begins crying to nurse. maybe you leave your daughter, who sobs, "i just want you, mommy!" and go to your son, thankful that her grandmother is in bed with her but hating yourself just the same.

maybe there are days when your daughter pushes your buttons, shouts at you or ignores you altogether and you find yourself counting the days until she starts preschool like a prisoner scratching his term into a cell wall.

maybe, by 8 o'clock, if you are lucky enough that both kids are sleeping, all you want to do is eat a handful of graham cracker sticks and go to bed, even if that upsets your husband.

maybe you've started to wonder if you will ever make everyone happy at the same time.

maybe there's more. Like rushing the 8 week old to the ER (false alarm), your preschooler turning into the Exorcist at the egg hunt it took all day to arrange, the fresh set of stitches in your husband's face, the unexpected 5 thousand dollar medical bill from your son's birth, all three sets of parents coming to visit during the month when life seems to be coming completely unhinged...

"I came here to help out but....what the heck have I signed myself up for?"

maybe you are starting to wonder if the universe is just a big ole bully, hell bent on stuffing you headfirst into the karmic toilet.

"What's that? You woke up feeling hopeful? Time for another swirlie, chump."
image credit

But, perhaps that's not all.

perhaps you have discovered that your son loves when you sing Annie's Song and something about that makes you really, really happy.

"I surrender to John Denver."

perhaps you packed away the last of the maternity clothes and slipped on your favorite pair of jean shorts from Anthropologie.

perhaps you made your husband laugh so hard that he choked on his grapefruit juice, spraying it all over the kitchen. And that made you laugh. Which made your daughter laugh. And the baby in your arms smiled.

perhaps you and your daughter spent a precious half hour singing songs, coloring and chatting about everything and nothing. perhaps she told you she loved you and that this was they best day ever.

And it was.

perhaps you have made the effort during this crazy time to connect with friends - even if just by email or texts during late night nursing sessions - to share a laugh, hear their troubles or just say hi...and it has been so worth it.

perhaps your son, who has smiled every single day since he was born, has begun to laugh and shriek with happiness when you talk or sing to him and it never fails to make your heart soar.

"You people are crazy - how can I not laugh?"

perhaps your mom bought scented laundry detergent for you by mistake and, when you slipped into your freshly washed sheets that night, you remembered that you actually love scented laundry detergent.

perhaps you've had a few moments of being a mother, not just a caretaker, to both of your children at the same time.

"See Rhys, this is what I was talking about. Work, work, work. Not a moment's rest."

Perhaps your daughter brings you a banana when she gets herself one or picks you flowers or comes to snuggle in bed one morning and you realize that you two just might get through this.

You might be ok after all.

perhaps a friend gives you a cool iPhone app, so you can still enjoy taking photos. perhaps another records a favorite band's performance for you. perhaps another sends you text messages that crack you up on really crummy days. perhaps another drops off your favorite flowers.

perhaps your son loves being outside or going for walks and you remember that you do too.

"Let's get this nap wagon rolling lady!"

perhaps, you don't have as much time for crafts, activity books and outings but that doesn't mean your daughter has stopped learning from you.

perhaps you are actually teaching the most important lessons she will ever learn.

"I hear Mom say she has too much milk but I'm just not sure I have enough, Lambie."

perhaps you have decided not to kill the peacock.

perhaps you've decided to keep finding the gifts from the universe.

to smile and get on with it, in spite of and because of it all.

maybe this isn't just me.

perhaps this is you too.

and, if so, good luck out there.

"Closer to fine..."

2013-04-15T00:04:00.000+01:00

{Song clip}
Just days after Rhys was born, my sister in law came to visit. Young, vibrant, beautiful and newly engaged, she no doubt arrived eager to see the joys of a family newly expanding. What we provided instead was a host of shenanigans so outrageous that she said at one point that she was - and I quote - "ready to go home and eat all of her birth control pills."
True story.

"I love you big brother...but your family is totally insane."
Now, things have certainly improved from those chaotic early days. And Rhys is the easiest and sweetest baby I have ever laid eyes on - nothing like his big sister who was the most fussy, sleepless (but cutest) baby I have ever seen. But, an easy baby does not a happy family make. I envy couples that seem to effortlessly parent their children together. I envy kids that are besotted with their new sibling - as Maren is with Rhys - without totally turning against their parents - as she has with us...or mostly me. I envy people that say their new family unit harmonized easily and completely. Because, dear readers, no matter how easy a baby Rhys is - and he really is a peach - we older family members are, on good days, a bit out of tune and on bad days...well, we aren't even singing the same song.

"Look folks, I eat like a champ, I sleep through the night and I smile all day. I can't make this any easier, so get your act together!"
But, as a dear friend said to me recently, there are pockets of "just fine-ness" to be found, no matter how fleeting or how infrequent. Moments when things seem like they are getting closer to normal...or a new normal. And what can anyone do but hungrily capture those moments. Savor them. And greedily wait for more.

Maybe I shouldn't share these things. Honestly, I haven't posted in so long, maybe no one is reading anyway. But, whether anyone sees this or not, this is a true account. The real thing. And sometimes, real families aren't tied up with a neat little bow. Sometimes family life gets messy. Sometimes things fall apart.
But, our kids are pretty darn cute.

And to quote one of my favorite movies, "we ain't Ozzy and Harriet", but we aren't all bad.

So, with any luck, maybe our family life won't serve as a birth control ad to young couples for too much longer.

"Always be my baby..."

2013-03-21T21:43:00.000Z

{Song clip}
Last weekend...
My daddy taught the kids at Maren's birthday party to play ring toss while I tended to Rhys.
He greeted me with, "Hello beautiful" on the morning all my clothes felt either too big or too small.
He let my daughter "help" him install the rain gutters on our house.
And he tucked a blanket around my newborn son as he rocked him to sleep.

My mama arrived with decorations, games and supplies for Maren's birthday party because she knew I wasn't ready to shop with two kids.
She said, "Just let it all out, honey" when I called crying after my first full day alone with the kids.
She wrote me an email telling me all the things she loves about the way I mother my children.
She played with my daughter while I nursed my son.

Becoming a parent doesn't mean you stop needing your own parents.
Not one bit.

My mama's infectious laugh, the way she's always on my side when the chips are down, her generous and hardworking spirit.
The pride in my daddy's eyes when he looks at me, his strong hands cradling my kids or working on my house, his perpetually sunny outlook and rock solid heart.
I will always need those things.
And so will my kids.
Always.

"When I need you..."

2013-03-09T15:19:00.001Z

{song clip}

He came home from work early.

Scooped her up in his arms.

Bundled her in her baby brother's blanket.

And carried her around the backyard.

Singing the song he used to sing when she couldn't sleep as a baby.

He whispered.

She listened.

He cuddled.

He kissed.

And she beamed.

We all need to know we are loved.
And that love holds steady, no matter how life changes .
Some days, there's only a few minutes.
A few precious moments to say that.
But, if you do it right...
Sometimes, it's all you need.

"You belong to me..."

2013-02-23T16:56:00.000Z

Song clip

Maren talked to Rhys every day he was inside me.

She asked me how he was doing. What he was thinking. If he needed anything.

She has been waiting, oh so patiently, to love him.

I wasn't patient with her need to touch him, kiss him and tug on him at first.

But I'm getting better.

And I need to keep getting better.

Because, he's not just our baby.

He's her brother.

She's been waiting for this.

And, really...so have I.

"Here I am..."

2013-02-20T16:03:00.000Z

{Song clip - this song is from one of Maren's favorite movies. It made me cry every time I heard it while pregnant...and it still does}

Would you believe that I went into labor the night of my last post? Would you believe that my friend who took the photos in that post predicted labor would start that night at 3am...and she was right? Well, technically it started at 5:45am but she lives on the west coast, so she gets full credit considering the time difference. Yes, that's right, baby boy is here! After a short but intense two and a half hour labor, our son Rhys - weighing in at a whopping 9 pounds, 2 ounces and measuring 22 inches long! - was born.

I wish there was time to give you a nice juicy birth story but, to be honest, recovering from delivering my tiny titan and adjusting to life with two little ones is taking up all of my brain power. So, just wanted to quickly pop in to let you know the good news and promise to be back with more details when things have settled down a bit.

In the meantime, look at this sweet, smiling face. Ah...he was worth every single second of the wait.

See you soon...

"Waiting on the world to change..."

2013-02-11T23:58:00.000Z

{Song clip}

39 weeks, 4 days.

And waiting.

A very special thank you to my dear friend (and unbelievably talented film photographer) Lexia Frank for convincing me to get in front of her camera today. I was reluctant. She was persistent. And...she was right. I am so, so grateful.

The photos in this post were snapped with my camera after she finished shooting a roll of black and white film - yes, film! - so, in keeping with that, I took the liberty of converting them all to black and white.

I look forward to sharing her photos with you when the film is processed.

And, with any luck, our son will arrive long before the film does.

"In spite of ourselves..."

2013-02-03T20:08:00.000Z

{Song clip - a hilarious love song...}

Yesterday, we discovered a treasure trove in the nearby city of St. Petersburg - a massive new and used bookstore! Set in a funky district with vintage clothing shops, tattoo parlors and artsy cafes selling craft beers and vinyl records, Haslam's Bookstore takes up almost an entire city block. The store has been around for 80 years and boasts over 300,000 books - including some special copies behind glass, like a first edition Winnie the Pooh and a Don Quixote illustrated by Salvador Dali. We had a look through the various sections but spent most of our time looking at children's books. We found some old favorites of ours to read to Maren and picked up the next few books in a series she is absolutely crazy about right now. More about those books in the next post...

More than an hour later, books picked and paid for, it was time for lunch. Jake vetoed lunch at the cool cafe with fun beers across the street and opted for this seafood shack next to the bookstore instead. He was overwhelmed by the choices and went totally overboard - ordering a catfish Po' Boy, fried shrimp, crawfish, corn on the cob, french fries and even fried alligator tail. It was quite the spread.

I should have a photo of him digging in to that fried feast from the sea but - well - that's a scene that moves too fast and is too messy to be captured on film. Suffice to say, Maren and I managed to grab a few quick bites of shrimp and french fries before the rest was devoured. He tore into that food like a man possessed! By the end, he was so covered in miscellaneous juices that we had to go back to the bookstore for him to wash his hands...and arms and face! So, rather than a photo of him eating, here's a nice photo of him reading to Maren while waiting for lunch.

In spite of ourselves, and our usual grumpiness about Florida, we have found it to be pretty nice place to be lately. Treating us to sunny yet cool and breezy days. Revealing hidden gems - like this bookstore - to us. And being home to so many lovely friends to spend our time with. In summer, I'm sure we will be belly aching again about being stuck indoors from the blistering heat, but for now, we are not complaining. Not one bit. (Well, maybe a little bit about still being pregnant, but that shouldn't count...) What did you do this weekend? And, stay tuned for a review (er, rant?) of a book I just read and of some books Maren is really enjoying.

"Stubborn love..."

2013-01-29T15:09:00.003Z

{Song clip}

In two days, we will hit 38 weeks pregnant.

Wow.

Maren was born at 36 weeks, so this is a whole new frontier for us. I'd love to tell you that I am happily ensconced in the pre-baby joys of folding onesies, washing cloth diapers, packing my hospital bag and organizing closets. But, I'm not. I assumed we'd have another early baby and I am a habitual, non-stop (compulsive?) organizer - a combination which means I did all those tasks weeks ago. So, instead of feathering the nest as the big day approaches, I am slowly going insane. None of my clothes fit anymore, my pelvis feels ready to shatter, I am exhausted and I can't sleep more than 2 hours without getting up to pee. Add to that my husband's off-hand comments like, "wow, what if the baby is a girl?", my daughter's dramatics that turn me into a mama straight out of a Bill Cosby skit, the man in the checkout line that whispered to his wife, "I bet it's twins!" and Downton Abbey ratcheting up my already high anxiety about childbirth with its most recent storyline. Not to mention the black eye, stitches, horse riding accident, skinned elbows, deeply embedded splinters in toddler feet and the contractions that I've had every day - sometimes 6 minutes apart for an hour or two - since Christmas.

But, really, it isn't all bad. In fact, it's mostly good. And, almost like a reward for enduing all the crazy, some days seem dipped in pure sunshine.

The truth is, we are eager to end the aches, pains and the general madness associated with late pregnancy...but, not quite ready to rush into being parents to two. We are relishing these last weeks (days?) of having one glorious, stubborn, lovely and wild child...knowing that having her all to ourselves could end at literally any moment. We are soaking up the last bits of her only childhood - reading book after book uninterrupted, painting her toenails, cuddling on the couch watching a movie, answering her endless questions in bed at the end of the day. All the things that may very soon be met with a "later" or "not right now honey". Now, don't misunderstand. We are excited about the little guy on his way - and, really, no one is more ready to meet him than Maren - but there are pieces of this transition that are bittersweet. Very soon, life as we know it will be turned upside down. Our love and attention will be split. And, our baby will no longer be the baby.

But, despite the uncertainty of what is to come, we are ready.

We three.

Standing together.

Holding hands. Holding each other up.

Looking bravely forward, to our next adventure.

As we always have.

As we always will.