Happy 9th Anniversary!

If I had a dollar for every time over the last nine years I've heard, "You must be a saint!"

(Well...I'd have enough dollars to buy us all a round at Starbucks. And that ain't cheap.)

But seriously, I've heard that a lot over the years. Mostly from people who don't know Eric very well, or only know him superficially. I just smile, knowingly, because little do they know...

I'm the lucky one.

Happy Anniversary, Eric!

(Our 8th Anniversary)

Vintage Duds

Vintage Harley shirt: circa 1985

Private collection

(This shirt was mine.)

(My Daddy still rides a Harley.)

Roadtrip

Sunday morning, we loaded everyone up in the car and set off for our annual road trip down south for the Baker Creek Spring Planting Festival. We've gone for the last four years, and now we've been when the weather felt like July (last year) and January. It was a bit chilly and raining at times, but we still had a great time. It's definitely our favorite trip of the year.

Ollie in the photo wall. This scene from last year still makes me chuckle.

A Mother's Response to Violence

I went to bed last night feeling a combination of heartsickness, anxiety, numbness, and hope. 

Probably like many of you, my initial response to yesterday's violence at the Boston Marathon was, "Are we not safe anywhere, doing anything?" After a moment of processing how unsafe the world is, then I thought, "All right, that settles it: a hermit's life it is. I'm never going anywhere again. At least I'm safe at home." Then my panicked mind turned to the craziness last fall in which someone stole my neighbor's truck, crashed it into our garage, and then fled on foot from the police. And then to my parents' fire last year. Consequently (logically, right?), I worry that I'm not even safe at home. Then the big guns come out: "What have I done? I've brought these innocent children into a world that is ugly, painful, and unsafe!" And it's all downhill from there.

Until I stop myself. Until I remind myself (or a friend reminds me) that these things are random. Until I remember that I already do my best to take the logical, rational steps to protect my children, and that is the best I can do.

Right? We do our best. We hope for the best. We have a little faith.

Well, that's a great start. Maybe that's Step 1. My perspective is that there's an important Step 2, which is the important work we do as parents to raise healthy, secure, and sturdy human beings. For me, that means that I continue to spread the word that birth matters, bonding matters, communication matters, education matters, empathy matters. How we treat our children matters. As the saying goes, hurt people hurt people. It stands to reason, then, that the fewer hurt people we have running around, the safer we are.

A step beyond that is the work we do as citizens of our country and world, to ensure that we heal those who are hurt and prevent future incidents like this. For me, this means turning off the news, which inadvertently (I hope) gives power to sick people who seek to go out in a blaze of glory. For me, doing my part as a citizen means to continue to look people in the eye, smile, give compliments, engage with people. It means buying coffee for the person behind me in line, so that they know--and my children know--that there are also random acts of kindness and goodness in the world. It means supporting other parents who have similar values, and creating a safe "village" for my children.

These things aren't earth-shattering, and they're certainly not my original ideas, but they are something. They're things we all can do.

What are you doing today to give love more power than fear in your life?

Ellis and Oliver "visiting" a baby in a restaurant over the weekend. We intentionally allow them to mingle sometimes in restaurants. Our dinners are sometimes less convenient, but it gives them permission to engage in the world.

Happy Birthday to Me

I love birthdays. I love my birthday. I love a day that is all about me, and how everyone is so thankful I was born. My friends and family call me, text me, Facebook me to insist  that I have a blissful day. I love a day to pause and reflect on how I'm growing and changing each year.

There's a lot of pressure to bemoan birthdays, especially as women in our society. To call this the "second anniversary of my 29th birthday," or something like that. But actually, I don't mind being 31. I like it, actually. I've had a lot of times in my life when I struggled immensely, felt unworthy of anything good, felt like I didn't belong, or felt like I was just waiting to get to another place in my life. But this time in my life? It's really wonderful. Truly. You couldn't pay me to be 21 again.

Here's my thinking: this is as young as I'll ever be. I can look at myself in a big, magnifying mirror and point out how this or that doesn't look like it used to. Or I can look in the mirror and see how strong my body is, that it has grown and nourished two healthy boys. Admire how beautiful the smiles lines are around my eyes, because it means that I've been smiling for 31 years. I can hope that I live to see my black hair turn white, and my pale skin turn to crepe, because that will mean that I have more time to wake up next to my husband and children. These are the choices we have to make.

I love being 31. I love being alive. I love being Eric's wife and the boys' mother. I love being my parents' daughter and my brother's sister.

So hello, year number 31. Welcome. Sit and have a cup of tea...

Flashback Friday

We're still pretty much couch-bound, so how about an oldie-but-goodie? Here I am with my mom, circa 1982.

The story goes that my mom, who was 23 at the time, took me to get portraits taken, but hadn't intended to be in any photos. At the photographer's insistence, she got in the picture despite the fact that she wasn't "camera-ready." Thank goodness she did. She's always been beautiful, and this day was no exception.

Christmas Recap: The Lead-Up

I hope you all had a lovely Christmas. We had a really nice Christmas with our family--lots of good food, tons of presents, and just enough viral illness to keep everyone on their toes. We started our festivities on Christmas Eve Eve (the 23rd, in other words), and here are some of my favorite shots:

A Christmas tradition: family photos by the fireplace

I took about a dozen of these, and not one turned out. This is my favorite outtake, though.

Present opening

Cookware! I love it!

Yes, that's my foot. And genuine laughter.

Oliver and Great-Aunt Sheila playing in styrofoam packaging

You know what they say--the kids' favorite toys are boxes

Most moving Christmas moment: my mom opened a necklace my brother made her from some of the only items recovered from their house fire. It's a necklace made from remnants of my great-great-grandmother's silverware. The comic relief, of course, is that my stepfather beside her is obliviously tickled about his new coffee mugs. 

I think Logan even got a little choked up. He gives the most thoughtful gifts. And he's crafty to boot.  

Happy Halloween!

Ellis' "day costume" for the farmers market

Rocket Man!

Painting pumpkins

Sorting candy for trick-or-treaters

Candy: ready!

Are we ready yet?!

Rethinking the decision to put candy out on the table...

My "super" handsome guys!

Super family!

The Flash takes his job seriously

Playing with neighborhood kids before the parade

Pre-parade Flash 

Parade!

Collecting the loot!

Happy boy.

Happy Halloween.

It's a Parade!

Masquerade

We're getting into the Halloween spirit this week. First up: Eric and me at a masquerade party this weekend. Look for other spooky photos throughout the week!

In the Blink of an Eye

Sometimes in life, we get reminders that things can change in the blink of an eye.

For example, we had a lovely afternoon at an art & music festival...

 We played around...

 Saw the sights...

 Danced around...

I went from having my eyes welling up with tears of joy at the sight of my two kiddos dancing and having a blast, to tears of sadness for my hurt baby. Sometime after this last photo was taken, Oliver tripped and fell face-first on the asphalt. Immediately, my tough guy was crying hard and gushing blood from his mouth. It was several chaotic minutes before we could wash out his mouth enough to see what was going on. It was his upper gums bleeding, and it looked like his front teeth were tilted backwards.

We had walked to the festival, so we headed back home. Thankfully, Oliver asked to nurse shortly after we started out walking, so I sat down on some steps to nurse him and then nursed him while walking the rest of the way home. As a sort of comical side note, he was super heavy to carry and nurse while trying to speed walk home...so it was a bit awkward passing our neighbors in this frenzied state with me nursing Oliver, who insisted in having his hand up my shirt but refused to let Eric pull the shirt down over his arm and the top of my breast. Oh well. It was an emergency--what're you gonna do?

A call to our pediatrician resulted in a recommendation that we go to our local children's hospital that has pediatric dental staff 24/7, so off we went. Both boys fell asleep in the car on the way, which was a real blessing for my frazzled nerves. Oliver continued to sleep until we were part of way through our ER waiting room wait, and Ellis slept until we were out of triage, so it worked out really well, all things considered.

It turned out that Oliver had, in fact, knocked his front teeth loose. Unfortunately, there's  nothing to be done at this point, so we're just waiting to see if they tighten back up, or if they will fall out. The good folks at the children's hospital seemed optimistic that they'll tighten back up after a few days.

Oliver is doing remarkably well. We will keep an eye on his teeth to make sure they don't get so loose they're going to fall out and choke him... then he'll see his regular pediatrician Friday.

As a parent, it's so unsettling to know that the possibility of these fun-one-moment-disaster-the-next times exists. So then the question becomes: am I going to watch my children more carefully, hover a little closer, yell, "Be careful!" a little more? Or am I going to hug my children a little tighter, smile a little wider, and use common sense to keep them safe as best I can? For me, I'll probably have a few more days where it makes me nervous to watch Oliver walk across a room in that precarious-looking, lurching-forward way that toddlers do; then, I'll choose option two. I can't protect them from everything--as much as I'd love to--so I'll do my best and enjoy dancing and laughing.