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February 2020
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"Brothers" by Kara Boodhansingh
I remember being nervous the first time you two met. I was afraid that you would feel jealous of the new baby that would take more of my time, less that I’d be able to spend with you. Truth be told, a part of me was also mourning the precious time that the two of us had just with each other. But, you embraced the idea of having a little brother warmly and never let on that his presence made you feel jealous in any way. Since then, I have loved watching your relationship as brothers grow. As with any relationship, and especially as with any sibling relationship, there are ups and downs. You are hugging, playing, and laughing with each other one minute, and crying and angry with each other the next. You are competitive with each other in almost any activity, whether it’s how quickly you can brush your teeth, how far you can run, or who will knock over the Jenga tower first. You are brothers. You are bonded as siblings and, I hope, by friendship forever.
I remember being nervous the first time you two met. I was afraid that you would feel jealous of the new baby that would take more of my time, less that I’d be able to spend with you. Truth be told, a part of me was also mourning the precious time that the two of us had just with each other. But, you embraced the idea of having a little brother warmly and never let on that his presence made you feel jealous in any way. Since then, I have loved watching your relationship as brothers grow. As with any relationship, and especially as with any sibling relationship, there are ups and downs. You are hugging, playing, and laughing with each other one minute, and crying and angry with each other the next. You are competitive with each other in almost any activity, whether it’s how quickly you can brush your teeth, how far you can run, or who will knock over the Jenga tower first. You are brothers. You are bonded as siblings and, I hope, by friendship forever.
"The Clean-Up" by Erin Witters
A bath after every meal.
You are a curious busy scientist: mixing concoctions in your hair, and putting Newton to the test throwing what you deem unnecessary to the ground below.
I don’t mind being your lab partner and bringing you new substances to discover with texture and viscosity and taste.
Or, cleaning the two-foot radius mess, and your happy scientist matted curly hair and crusted cheeks and sticky fingers when you’re done.
“Play is often talked about as if it were a relief from serious learning. But for children, play is serious learning.” -Mr. Rogers
I love watching you piece your world together, knowing the messes we make in life’s lab are welcome.
In this home, we can always clean-up, and begin again.
A bath after every meal.
You are a curious busy scientist: mixing concoctions in your hair, and putting Newton to the test throwing what you deem unnecessary to the ground below.
I don’t mind being your lab partner and bringing you new substances to discover with texture and viscosity and taste.
Or, cleaning the two-foot radius mess, and your happy scientist matted curly hair and crusted cheeks and sticky fingers when you’re done.
“Play is often talked about as if it were a relief from serious learning. But for children, play is serious learning.” -Mr. Rogers
I love watching you piece your world together, knowing the messes we make in life’s lab are welcome.
In this home, we can always clean-up, and begin again.
by Leah Vazquez
we spent a beautiful day exploring the mountains. something daddy and I did before you were born. This face though, was you checking on me, because I was slowly waddling my way up the mountain, third trimester, and almost to the finish. I love you boys.
we spent a beautiful day exploring the mountains. something daddy and I did before you were born. This face though, was you checking on me, because I was slowly waddling my way up the mountain, third trimester, and almost to the finish. I love you boys.
by April Dautlich
I never really gave much consideration to WHY parents with children are late to evvvvverything. But now I know why. Now I get it. I’m in the club. Do I get a badge?
Sometimes mornings are stressful. Sometimes we have to hurry you when you don’t want to be hurried or rushed. Sometimes getting your clothes on is a battle. I don’t even bother brushing your hair anymore. I honestly don’t remember the last time bristles touched your scalp. But today we didn’t worry so much about the clock even though it was a preschool morning. Today you played in mama and papa’s bed with all of your lovies under the pillows and blankets so the Hakken-Kraks wouldn’t get you. When I asked you what the Hakken-Krak was you went to get your Dr Seuss book to show me. You got dressed when you were ready (with small motivational bribes, of course) and we still made it on time.
I never really gave much consideration to WHY parents with children are late to evvvvverything. But now I know why. Now I get it. I’m in the club. Do I get a badge?
Sometimes mornings are stressful. Sometimes we have to hurry you when you don’t want to be hurried or rushed. Sometimes getting your clothes on is a battle. I don’t even bother brushing your hair anymore. I honestly don’t remember the last time bristles touched your scalp. But today we didn’t worry so much about the clock even though it was a preschool morning. Today you played in mama and papa’s bed with all of your lovies under the pillows and blankets so the Hakken-Kraks wouldn’t get you. When I asked you what the Hakken-Krak was you went to get your Dr Seuss book to show me. You got dressed when you were ready (with small motivational bribes, of course) and we still made it on time.
"What you Feel at Home" by Bethany Braman
In the quiet moments, when no one else is watching, I see this tenderness you show to someone you love. You are someone I love. I hope you know this tenderness because you have felt it, here at home, with me.
In the quiet moments, when no one else is watching, I see this tenderness you show to someone you love. You are someone I love. I hope you know this tenderness because you have felt it, here at home, with me.
"Everywhere" by Kellie Pribbernow
Ever since we moved to this new home two summers ago, I've been finding your artwork everywhere. You will draw and create on any surface you can find. I will find colored pencils stuck between the couch cushions, markers spread out on the staircase (a colorful hazard!), scissors and paper scraps sprawled on the carpet, pencils and unfinished drawings piled on the living room side table, activity books spread over the dining room like a busy book fair.
No part of you has ever been easy to contain. Your voice is a constant yell. Your emotions overflow in every direction. Your love runs out at me with impromptu hugs and frequent, completely random I-love-you-Mommy's. And your artwork...your prolific, soul-pouring-out artwork...it penetrates every nook and cranny of our home. And while the pencils poking out at every turn may drive me batty, my own joy overflows to see your creative mind at work, and to watch with wonder how your passion spills over onto page after glorious page.
Ever since we moved to this new home two summers ago, I've been finding your artwork everywhere. You will draw and create on any surface you can find. I will find colored pencils stuck between the couch cushions, markers spread out on the staircase (a colorful hazard!), scissors and paper scraps sprawled on the carpet, pencils and unfinished drawings piled on the living room side table, activity books spread over the dining room like a busy book fair.
No part of you has ever been easy to contain. Your voice is a constant yell. Your emotions overflow in every direction. Your love runs out at me with impromptu hugs and frequent, completely random I-love-you-Mommy's. And your artwork...your prolific, soul-pouring-out artwork...it penetrates every nook and cranny of our home. And while the pencils poking out at every turn may drive me batty, my own joy overflows to see your creative mind at work, and to watch with wonder how your passion spills over onto page after glorious page.
by Marley Clark
There's a part of me that wishes I could tell you that your dad was the type to take you to do all things your little hearts desired. But he isn't. Most days his body is too tired from the physical demands of his job.
If there's one thing that you need to know about your dad its that he only has one gear when it comes to his work and that is to give things 110%. It is almost a moral slight to him to do anything less, and so that
leaves a little less of himself for all those around him. It is a trait that I deeply admire him for and simultaneously curse. At this time in our lives his love for you is found in the hugs his gives when his back
is hurting more than one human should be made to endure, in the evenings reading books when by all rights he should be sneaking in every moment of rest he can, and of course in his work making sure that everyone is
provided for.
There's a part of me that wishes I could tell you that your dad was the type to take you to do all things your little hearts desired. But he isn't. Most days his body is too tired from the physical demands of his job.
If there's one thing that you need to know about your dad its that he only has one gear when it comes to his work and that is to give things 110%. It is almost a moral slight to him to do anything less, and so that
leaves a little less of himself for all those around him. It is a trait that I deeply admire him for and simultaneously curse. At this time in our lives his love for you is found in the hugs his gives when his back
is hurting more than one human should be made to endure, in the evenings reading books when by all rights he should be sneaking in every moment of rest he can, and of course in his work making sure that everyone is
provided for.
"my gift" by Heather Robinson
you knocked on my locked door. daddy’s best efforts to keep you entertained were not enough. you were undeterred by my requests to have some alone time, some time to rest. i need these “resets” now more than ever. your knock grew louder and was accompanied by your sugary voice. “mama, i need to show you something. mama, i made something for you.” i drug my tired body weighed down by my heavy heart out of bed and unlocked the door. you beamed as you handed me the folded orange construction paper heart. you hadn’t cut it. i had weeks before. you found it though probably kicked under the scratchy green sofa where everything ends up eventually. you rescued it and presented it to me. as i opened it, your smile grew wider and you began to bounce. inside the orange heart was a smaller red heart. i knelt down to look you in the eyes and asked you if these hearts were our hearts. you squealed, “yes!”. i hugged you and thanked you for my gift. i know that you are still too young to feel moved by symbolism like your mama is. but one day, i want you to know just how important those two hearts were to me on that day. your heart folded into my heart. you have this way of pushing passed any barriers placed before you. you find me when i am lost. you pull me back from the edge and remind me why i am grateful to call this place my home.
you knocked on my locked door. daddy’s best efforts to keep you entertained were not enough. you were undeterred by my requests to have some alone time, some time to rest. i need these “resets” now more than ever. your knock grew louder and was accompanied by your sugary voice. “mama, i need to show you something. mama, i made something for you.” i drug my tired body weighed down by my heavy heart out of bed and unlocked the door. you beamed as you handed me the folded orange construction paper heart. you hadn’t cut it. i had weeks before. you found it though probably kicked under the scratchy green sofa where everything ends up eventually. you rescued it and presented it to me. as i opened it, your smile grew wider and you began to bounce. inside the orange heart was a smaller red heart. i knelt down to look you in the eyes and asked you if these hearts were our hearts. you squealed, “yes!”. i hugged you and thanked you for my gift. i know that you are still too young to feel moved by symbolism like your mama is. but one day, i want you to know just how important those two hearts were to me on that day. your heart folded into my heart. you have this way of pushing passed any barriers placed before you. you find me when i am lost. you pull me back from the edge and remind me why i am grateful to call this place my home.
by Meghan Endahl
I remember when we bought you this bike. You hopped on and, with only a moment’s hesitation, it was as if you had melded with this object and two became one. The winter months have been hard for you, frequently asking to go for a bike ride only to be let down with “it’s too cold,” or “we can’t ride our bikes on ice and snow, honey.” But this day, this mild February Sunday, was just warm enough and the snow had all but melted. We literally rode off into the sunset. Well, you did. Mama and Daddy half-walked, half-ran behind you. Your brazenness on your lime green balance bike puts me in a panic for most of the time we’re out, but there is a lingering, swelling happiness I feel as well, as I watch you soar. You see, for a four year old child who has to be in physical therapy because he can’t keep up with the other kids, because he can’t jump or balance on one foot or go up the stairs without help, you, my son, are free on this bike. You are not hindered. So, even though there are parts of me that would love to cover you in bubble wrap, the rest of me is proud and cheering you on. Just, please, stop and look both ways before you cross the street.
I remember when we bought you this bike. You hopped on and, with only a moment’s hesitation, it was as if you had melded with this object and two became one. The winter months have been hard for you, frequently asking to go for a bike ride only to be let down with “it’s too cold,” or “we can’t ride our bikes on ice and snow, honey.” But this day, this mild February Sunday, was just warm enough and the snow had all but melted. We literally rode off into the sunset. Well, you did. Mama and Daddy half-walked, half-ran behind you. Your brazenness on your lime green balance bike puts me in a panic for most of the time we’re out, but there is a lingering, swelling happiness I feel as well, as I watch you soar. You see, for a four year old child who has to be in physical therapy because he can’t keep up with the other kids, because he can’t jump or balance on one foot or go up the stairs without help, you, my son, are free on this bike. You are not hindered. So, even though there are parts of me that would love to cover you in bubble wrap, the rest of me is proud and cheering you on. Just, please, stop and look both ways before you cross the street.
"Wings" by Kendra Knaggs
Daddy has grown used to my love for a specific few movies. He knows I take comfort in them when I need a mental break, escape, inspiration, or a quality of feeling. One of these movies is The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. I love it. It is about a man whose life took a turn and is now taking a turn back. That's how things go sometimes. And within that there is a quote, a motto, that becomes the motto of this man's life. It is "To see the world, things dangerous to come to, to see behind walls, draw closer, to find each other and to feel. That is the purpose of life." I just find that so lovely. So true. We are all connected and when we go out into the world it makes it easier for us to believe that to be true. It is why we strive to, and make sacrifices to, bring you both out into the world. So you will learn that we are all one. And the airplane rides are amazing too.
Daddy has grown used to my love for a specific few movies. He knows I take comfort in them when I need a mental break, escape, inspiration, or a quality of feeling. One of these movies is The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. I love it. It is about a man whose life took a turn and is now taking a turn back. That's how things go sometimes. And within that there is a quote, a motto, that becomes the motto of this man's life. It is "To see the world, things dangerous to come to, to see behind walls, draw closer, to find each other and to feel. That is the purpose of life." I just find that so lovely. So true. We are all connected and when we go out into the world it makes it easier for us to believe that to be true. It is why we strive to, and make sacrifices to, bring you both out into the world. So you will learn that we are all one. And the airplane rides are amazing too.
“THE END” by Laura Walsh
You have such an enormous imagination. The connections you make and the ideas you come up with are incredible. You are always plotting points on a treasure map or dreaming up adventures. No one is as captive of an audience as the pup. Teddy seems to hang on your every word, or he may just be hoping for a snack? You’ll sit nose to nose and share your grandest stories with Teddy. My favorite is hearing you lavishly say “THE END.”
You have such an enormous imagination. The connections you make and the ideas you come up with are incredible. You are always plotting points on a treasure map or dreaming up adventures. No one is as captive of an audience as the pup. Teddy seems to hang on your every word, or he may just be hoping for a snack? You’ll sit nose to nose and share your grandest stories with Teddy. My favorite is hearing you lavishly say “THE END.”
"teetering" by Nicole Eliason
you are in high school, but just barely. most of the time it seems that you have one foot in two different worlds: one where you are still a kid and one where you are facing all things leading to life after childhood. you embrace so many of the new responsibilities, especially when it comes to school and sports and music. but you still love being a kid when the opportunity presents itself.
you are in high school, but just barely. most of the time it seems that you have one foot in two different worlds: one where you are still a kid and one where you are facing all things leading to life after childhood. you embrace so many of the new responsibilities, especially when it comes to school and sports and music. but you still love being a kid when the opportunity presents itself.
"Selfie" by Rachel Wheeler
We had a late night. On a school night even. Daddy was sick and went to bed early and we all know that he's much better at an on-time bedtime than I am. So here we sit. Messing around with mama's camera and whispering our ideas to each other so we don't wake up daddy. We decided to "capture our night-time routine," which in the end was far less routine and far more procrastinating sleep for us all. Sometimes it's nice to stretch out our days and slow time down by snapping a picture. May this one always remind you of soft snuggles on a school night when we should have been sleeping and jumbled up together on a bed that's too small to fit us...and a mama who, no matter what life brings us, will try her hardest to stretch out her days with you.
We had a late night. On a school night even. Daddy was sick and went to bed early and we all know that he's much better at an on-time bedtime than I am. So here we sit. Messing around with mama's camera and whispering our ideas to each other so we don't wake up daddy. We decided to "capture our night-time routine," which in the end was far less routine and far more procrastinating sleep for us all. Sometimes it's nice to stretch out our days and slow time down by snapping a picture. May this one always remind you of soft snuggles on a school night when we should have been sleeping and jumbled up together on a bed that's too small to fit us...and a mama who, no matter what life brings us, will try her hardest to stretch out her days with you.
"Weaving" by Kellie Llewellyn
Recently, while taking a class, I have started to learn several things about myself. From our earliest memories, to decisions we make, to the people we surround ourselves with, to the art that inspires us, all make us who we are. A reference my teacher kept saying was, “It’s in the uncomfortable space that the growth happens.” I can see that. I see in my children the weaving of who they are going to become. I’m excited to see where it will take them. What uncomfortable spaces will they find? Will Max remember his dad buying this “twirling dress” in Florida last year? His baby sister had a sundress on and he desperately wanted his own “twirling dress”. He wears it so often it has several holes in it and is stained and has shrunk-so it’s more of a shirt. He wears it backwards now to hide the holes, and still loves how it spins.
Recently, while taking a class, I have started to learn several things about myself. From our earliest memories, to decisions we make, to the people we surround ourselves with, to the art that inspires us, all make us who we are. A reference my teacher kept saying was, “It’s in the uncomfortable space that the growth happens.” I can see that. I see in my children the weaving of who they are going to become. I’m excited to see where it will take them. What uncomfortable spaces will they find? Will Max remember his dad buying this “twirling dress” in Florida last year? His baby sister had a sundress on and he desperately wanted his own “twirling dress”. He wears it so often it has several holes in it and is stained and has shrunk-so it’s more of a shirt. He wears it backwards now to hide the holes, and still loves how it spins.
“filters” by Debbie Deonier
So, I recently decided to let you get the Messenger Kids app on your tablet...and now all you want to do is call people. You've called your sisters so much that they have both blocked you. You call nana and mom-mom but they can't always talk to you. So, in the moments you feel like you have to call someone so you can see what new filters are available that day, you call me and we make funny faces at each other from different rooms of the house. This has become a morning routine and I actually kind of enjoy chatting with you this way.
So, I recently decided to let you get the Messenger Kids app on your tablet...and now all you want to do is call people. You've called your sisters so much that they have both blocked you. You call nana and mom-mom but they can't always talk to you. So, in the moments you feel like you have to call someone so you can see what new filters are available that day, you call me and we make funny faces at each other from different rooms of the house. This has become a morning routine and I actually kind of enjoy chatting with you this way.
"Three to go" by Karlie Austin
You’ve lost 3 teeth now in the past couple weeks. You aren’t like your sister who’ll let them dangle in there for weeks, too afraid to pull them loose. It’s as if they’re in your way, as soon as they’re loose you rock them back and forth and rip them from your gums. I hate loose teeth, and you know it. You show up wiggling them in front of me with a cheeky smile. There aren’t many left to go now.
You’ve lost 3 teeth now in the past couple weeks. You aren’t like your sister who’ll let them dangle in there for weeks, too afraid to pull them loose. It’s as if they’re in your way, as soon as they’re loose you rock them back and forth and rip them from your gums. I hate loose teeth, and you know it. You show up wiggling them in front of me with a cheeky smile. There aren’t many left to go now.
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October 2019
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"Our Power" by Karlie Austin
Some may look at our sensitivity as a weakness. They will want to toughen us. But what they don’t see is that our “weakness” is actually our super power. We are attuned to the subtleties of all that is around us. We notice the slight shift in the sound of the breeze blowing, we see every intricate detail and feel not only our feelings but those of others in a larger than life way. Our power gives us incredible creativity, empathy and if we let it, joy.
I know it can be so hard at times. I continue to face my own challenges. You’ll need to learn to harness your power so the world doesn’t wear you out. Some may try to make you fit into their neat and tidy boxes but I beg of you to not let them change the core of what makes you so uniquely you. There is nothing wrong with you or your sensitive heart. There is not one way to learn, to feel, to notice & to create. Stand tall and proud of all the pieces that make up your whole.
Some may look at our sensitivity as a weakness. They will want to toughen us. But what they don’t see is that our “weakness” is actually our super power. We are attuned to the subtleties of all that is around us. We notice the slight shift in the sound of the breeze blowing, we see every intricate detail and feel not only our feelings but those of others in a larger than life way. Our power gives us incredible creativity, empathy and if we let it, joy.
I know it can be so hard at times. I continue to face my own challenges. You’ll need to learn to harness your power so the world doesn’t wear you out. Some may try to make you fit into their neat and tidy boxes but I beg of you to not let them change the core of what makes you so uniquely you. There is nothing wrong with you or your sensitive heart. There is not one way to learn, to feel, to notice & to create. Stand tall and proud of all the pieces that make up your whole.
Untitled by Karee Yates
I have never been great at describing my feelings. In fact, my love for you especially seems too difficult to capture and put into mere words. I wish I could just catch them like fireflies in a jar. I could leave them out on display for you so that you would never doubt that they existed. I know you would see them shine as brightly as the sunset lit up our evening tonight. And on those days that I have neglected to show you just how profound my love is for you, I would know that you could never question it. Because they are always there…even on the darkest of nights, lighting up my whole heart.
I have never been great at describing my feelings. In fact, my love for you especially seems too difficult to capture and put into mere words. I wish I could just catch them like fireflies in a jar. I could leave them out on display for you so that you would never doubt that they existed. I know you would see them shine as brightly as the sunset lit up our evening tonight. And on those days that I have neglected to show you just how profound my love is for you, I would know that you could never question it. Because they are always there…even on the darkest of nights, lighting up my whole heart.
"Material - the matter from which a thing is or can be made." by Kendra Knaggs
Tape. It is a requirement is our house these days. Your creative spirit is intense and prolific. You wake with ideas and in a frenzy to make what you see in your brain a reality. Tape. Scissors. Recycling. Construction paper. Sticks. Rocks. Elastic bands. Back and forth you come to the backdoor while I prepare dinner. More tape. Six pieces this time. You’re not going to believe what I made. You say that to me everyday and everyday I think, you’re right. A trap made from a bent tree sapling and a five-gallon bucket was your creation. You tell me you want to be an engineer and a scientist because we have told you that you can be anything as long as you work hard and keep trying. I cry when I think of that because I really do deep down believe it. Work hard. Keep trying. Work hard. Keep trying. Every time I say it to you, I am also saying it to myself. It is harder for me to believe for myself than it is for you but I keep saying it. I want you and your brother to have no doubt, not the slightest. You can be anything, without judgement, if you work hard and keep trying. Maybe you will be an engineer or scientist or maybe you will change your mind. Your brother, I have no idea what on earth he is going to get into but the same applies. In the meantime, I will keep you fully supplied with all the tape you need.
Tape. It is a requirement is our house these days. Your creative spirit is intense and prolific. You wake with ideas and in a frenzy to make what you see in your brain a reality. Tape. Scissors. Recycling. Construction paper. Sticks. Rocks. Elastic bands. Back and forth you come to the backdoor while I prepare dinner. More tape. Six pieces this time. You’re not going to believe what I made. You say that to me everyday and everyday I think, you’re right. A trap made from a bent tree sapling and a five-gallon bucket was your creation. You tell me you want to be an engineer and a scientist because we have told you that you can be anything as long as you work hard and keep trying. I cry when I think of that because I really do deep down believe it. Work hard. Keep trying. Work hard. Keep trying. Every time I say it to you, I am also saying it to myself. It is harder for me to believe for myself than it is for you but I keep saying it. I want you and your brother to have no doubt, not the slightest. You can be anything, without judgement, if you work hard and keep trying. Maybe you will be an engineer or scientist or maybe you will change your mind. Your brother, I have no idea what on earth he is going to get into but the same applies. In the meantime, I will keep you fully supplied with all the tape you need.
“lava flows” by Megan Millsop
I will remember this trip for many reasons and one of those reasons is you. you let nothing stop you from enjoying our moments, wherever our adventure led us. you helped to bring your perspective to your siblings but also to me. For what good does it do to be in Hawaii and have a schedule to keep. This is the first trip where I was forced to slow down. And I can look back now a few weeks upon returning and know that slowing down was the right choice for all of you. a lack of schedule helps us to see things we might not have seen otherwise. Slowing down is a blessing in stark contrast to our busy everyday lives. For this enlightenment and for simply being your buoyant self, I thank you. and I look forward to the next trip already.
I will remember this trip for many reasons and one of those reasons is you. you let nothing stop you from enjoying our moments, wherever our adventure led us. you helped to bring your perspective to your siblings but also to me. For what good does it do to be in Hawaii and have a schedule to keep. This is the first trip where I was forced to slow down. And I can look back now a few weeks upon returning and know that slowing down was the right choice for all of you. a lack of schedule helps us to see things we might not have seen otherwise. Slowing down is a blessing in stark contrast to our busy everyday lives. For this enlightenment and for simply being your buoyant self, I thank you. and I look forward to the next trip already.
"Wild Ride" by Bethany Braman
After we had one, it made sense to have another. You needed a built in friend for life. But two under two? That’s a wild ride. I often tell people that it’s like having twins. You have two babies at once. Two in diapers. Two that need to be kept safe, dry, warm, fed, and loved. Unlike twins, with two under two, one baby has a slight head start in size and development. Big baby, left unattended, will go straight for the eyes of little baby, or maybe even carry them around by the head. Keeping you both alive and wondering why on earth I thought this was a good idea was a constant rollercoaster of fatigue and emotions that seemed to have no end in sight. Somehow, we all survived. As I watch you two now, this is what I was hoping for. Sisters. Friendship. Life. Love. Laughter. Still a wild ride.
After we had one, it made sense to have another. You needed a built in friend for life. But two under two? That’s a wild ride. I often tell people that it’s like having twins. You have two babies at once. Two in diapers. Two that need to be kept safe, dry, warm, fed, and loved. Unlike twins, with two under two, one baby has a slight head start in size and development. Big baby, left unattended, will go straight for the eyes of little baby, or maybe even carry them around by the head. Keeping you both alive and wondering why on earth I thought this was a good idea was a constant rollercoaster of fatigue and emotions that seemed to have no end in sight. Somehow, we all survived. As I watch you two now, this is what I was hoping for. Sisters. Friendship. Life. Love. Laughter. Still a wild ride.
"Just Beyond" by Rachel Wheeler
We messed up the focus in this picture. I was hoping to capture a clear picture of us having fun at the beach. But our fun is out of focus. I can see the waves and the sand and the strangers in the distance perfectly well but that’s not what I’d hoped for. I almost deleted this one but I found myself drawn to it and then into it. It’s a truer image to me than most actually. To be very honest, you should know that much of my life has looked like this picture. A few years ago I started making pictures of our everyday lives to help me learn how to bring into focus the things that feel blurry to me. Rarely, in my adult life, have the things right in front of me been perfectly clear and easy to find. Let me try to explain-- there are times when my vision isn’t really blurred but it feels blurred--my head gets confused, my body feels antsy and try though I might I can’t seem to get the important things in focus. This may sound weird to you right now but someday you might have this same feeling. I want you to know that when the things of lesser importance (those things off in the distance, just beyond or behind you) are so tack sharp that they take our attention from those things that matter most, we can still find the truth somewhere in the foreground. The truth here is what I am blessed to feel each day with you, even if I can’t always see it. The truth is that there are smiles happening in the shadows, and laughter bubbling up in the brightness of a setting sun, and sea-soaked stolen moments carried on the breezes of Emerald Isle that tell tales of life together and love unfeigned.
We messed up the focus in this picture. I was hoping to capture a clear picture of us having fun at the beach. But our fun is out of focus. I can see the waves and the sand and the strangers in the distance perfectly well but that’s not what I’d hoped for. I almost deleted this one but I found myself drawn to it and then into it. It’s a truer image to me than most actually. To be very honest, you should know that much of my life has looked like this picture. A few years ago I started making pictures of our everyday lives to help me learn how to bring into focus the things that feel blurry to me. Rarely, in my adult life, have the things right in front of me been perfectly clear and easy to find. Let me try to explain-- there are times when my vision isn’t really blurred but it feels blurred--my head gets confused, my body feels antsy and try though I might I can’t seem to get the important things in focus. This may sound weird to you right now but someday you might have this same feeling. I want you to know that when the things of lesser importance (those things off in the distance, just beyond or behind you) are so tack sharp that they take our attention from those things that matter most, we can still find the truth somewhere in the foreground. The truth here is what I am blessed to feel each day with you, even if I can’t always see it. The truth is that there are smiles happening in the shadows, and laughter bubbling up in the brightness of a setting sun, and sea-soaked stolen moments carried on the breezes of Emerald Isle that tell tales of life together and love unfeigned.
"right at home" by Heather Robinson
ever since you were independent enough to move on your own, i would find you crawling towards the patches of dirt in our front yard or i would find you hugging a pile of leaves to your chest or popping acorns in your mouth. your favorite toys are the rocks in our driveway, the sticks underneath the trees, and the leaves carefully plucked from the bushes that surround our front porch. you seek out the earth when you need stimulation, when you need comfort. this is just one of the many things i love about you my autumn love.
ever since you were independent enough to move on your own, i would find you crawling towards the patches of dirt in our front yard or i would find you hugging a pile of leaves to your chest or popping acorns in your mouth. your favorite toys are the rocks in our driveway, the sticks underneath the trees, and the leaves carefully plucked from the bushes that surround our front porch. you seek out the earth when you need stimulation, when you need comfort. this is just one of the many things i love about you my autumn love.
"light" by Nicole Eliason
our visit to the beach was brief, but it gave us exactly what we desperately needed during this harried time in our family. with each of you at different schools, and all on the fringes of having the demands of the next developmental stage heavily on your shoulders, 72 hours without that weight allowed for these moments. these moments to be kids, to be carefree, to be light.
our visit to the beach was brief, but it gave us exactly what we desperately needed during this harried time in our family. with each of you at different schools, and all on the fringes of having the demands of the next developmental stage heavily on your shoulders, 72 hours without that weight allowed for these moments. these moments to be kids, to be carefree, to be light.
"All the Babies" by Erin Witters
I have had the little kittens since they were found orphaned at two weeks old. Just like you, they had to be fed every three hours. It was exhausting alternating between nursing you, and bottle feeling the little kittens. The kittens are now big enough for adoption, and I am heart broken thinking of them anywhere but with me.
Mothering is hard.
You are nine-months little, your growth is thankfully much much slower than those sweet kittens. We will have more time to nurse, and cuddle, to change diapers and splash in baths and pools, to make a mess at lunch and rub baby food in hair when you throw your arms up in glee. I love your solitary tooth and the way you army crawl with impressive speed. You are catching on that there are certain things that I don't want you to do (like eat dog food), and such things have become your purpose in life.
Seeing your right cheek dimple appear when you laugh is mine.
I have loved having a house full of babies.
All of them.
I have had the little kittens since they were found orphaned at two weeks old. Just like you, they had to be fed every three hours. It was exhausting alternating between nursing you, and bottle feeling the little kittens. The kittens are now big enough for adoption, and I am heart broken thinking of them anywhere but with me.
Mothering is hard.
You are nine-months little, your growth is thankfully much much slower than those sweet kittens. We will have more time to nurse, and cuddle, to change diapers and splash in baths and pools, to make a mess at lunch and rub baby food in hair when you throw your arms up in glee. I love your solitary tooth and the way you army crawl with impressive speed. You are catching on that there are certain things that I don't want you to do (like eat dog food), and such things have become your purpose in life.
Seeing your right cheek dimple appear when you laugh is mine.
I have loved having a house full of babies.
All of them.
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May 2019
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"Brave" by Megan O'Donnell
You told me that you were not brave because it hurt. Being brave isn’t whether or not it hurt or if you were scared. Being brave is the way you handle it. Being brave is standing up straight and walking into the doctor’s office to get your needle without complaining. Being brave is falling off your bike, scraping your face and getting up to have another go. You know that sometimes shit happens. You know how to roll with it and keep going. Bubba Magoo, my love, my little dude, you are brave.
You told me that you were not brave because it hurt. Being brave isn’t whether or not it hurt or if you were scared. Being brave is the way you handle it. Being brave is standing up straight and walking into the doctor’s office to get your needle without complaining. Being brave is falling off your bike, scraping your face and getting up to have another go. You know that sometimes shit happens. You know how to roll with it and keep going. Bubba Magoo, my love, my little dude, you are brave.
"An in between age" by Kellie Llewellyn
As you stood in front of me with tears streaming down your face in my office, all I could feel was irritation from being interrupted again. You were fighting with one of your brothers and most likely you pushed them to their breaking point and got hit. You are “the” instigator at our house. You are at an age where you want to be a big kid, but aren’t quite there yet. At that moment, the light was hitting you through the blinds and made me want to capture this memory or you, you wiped the tears after I asked if I could get a picture- wiping away the vulnerability you felt having tears in a picture. Right now you haven’t quite grown into one of the big kids-you still ask for chocolate milk in a sippy cup warmed up every morning. As much I it can annoy me when you demand it first thing, I don’t want you to turn into a big kid just yet.
As you stood in front of me with tears streaming down your face in my office, all I could feel was irritation from being interrupted again. You were fighting with one of your brothers and most likely you pushed them to their breaking point and got hit. You are “the” instigator at our house. You are at an age where you want to be a big kid, but aren’t quite there yet. At that moment, the light was hitting you through the blinds and made me want to capture this memory or you, you wiped the tears after I asked if I could get a picture- wiping away the vulnerability you felt having tears in a picture. Right now you haven’t quite grown into one of the big kids-you still ask for chocolate milk in a sippy cup warmed up every morning. As much I it can annoy me when you demand it first thing, I don’t want you to turn into a big kid just yet.
"Something Extraordinary" by Rachel Wheeler
I watched you pop up onto the table expertly moving the yarn through various forms of cat’s cradle. It’s interesting how it starts out as this plain old piece of yarn and if you move that yarn through the right spots and into tricky places on your fingers it becomes a witch’s broom or Jacob’s ladder or a made up one all of your own--a doorway into a mysterious land and you its queen. Remember this, little one, there will be times when life feels like a plain old piece of yarn. But I tell you there are lots of right spots and tricky places to move through to make something wonderful and surprising! Sometimes you will find yourself on the threshold of someplace mysterious and treacherous and breathtaking. And you will be the queen of that place. I just know it. In this moment, as I took you in, it dawned on me that you are becoming who you will be in many years hence and watching you is extraordinary.
I watched you pop up onto the table expertly moving the yarn through various forms of cat’s cradle. It’s interesting how it starts out as this plain old piece of yarn and if you move that yarn through the right spots and into tricky places on your fingers it becomes a witch’s broom or Jacob’s ladder or a made up one all of your own--a doorway into a mysterious land and you its queen. Remember this, little one, there will be times when life feels like a plain old piece of yarn. But I tell you there are lots of right spots and tricky places to move through to make something wonderful and surprising! Sometimes you will find yourself on the threshold of someplace mysterious and treacherous and breathtaking. And you will be the queen of that place. I just know it. In this moment, as I took you in, it dawned on me that you are becoming who you will be in many years hence and watching you is extraordinary.
"Swing Swang" by Alison Bents
We got this little swingset in our backyard about a year ago. It was the great impetus to getting you to figure out how to really get yourself flying on the swings. All last fall you asked for pushes, for the occasional underdog, for me to counter you on the tiny teeter-totter. Even in the winter, your first request when we’d get all of our snow stuff on was to head over to the swingset so you could play. Today you race right over, plop yourself down on your swing and get yourself soaring, scream-singing “HERE I STAND IN THE LIGHT OF DAY, LET THE STORM RAGE ON!!!”
We got this little swingset in our backyard about a year ago. It was the great impetus to getting you to figure out how to really get yourself flying on the swings. All last fall you asked for pushes, for the occasional underdog, for me to counter you on the tiny teeter-totter. Even in the winter, your first request when we’d get all of our snow stuff on was to head over to the swingset so you could play. Today you race right over, plop yourself down on your swing and get yourself soaring, scream-singing “HERE I STAND IN THE LIGHT OF DAY, LET THE STORM RAGE ON!!!”
"Bedtime" by Janet Holsinger
You don’t want to calm down and go to sleep, but bedtime is one of my favorite times of the day. Not because it means peace and quiet and an end to the busy day, but because I get these special moments with you.
You don’t want to calm down and go to sleep, but bedtime is one of my favorite times of the day. Not because it means peace and quiet and an end to the busy day, but because I get these special moments with you.
"Smiles" by Kelly Polizzi
You are such a joy. We all hover around you, each doing our best to win the smile or the biggest laugh. You coo and play and kick with delight. It’s like a prize. One you want to keep winning over and over.
You are such a joy. We all hover around you, each doing our best to win the smile or the biggest laugh. You coo and play and kick with delight. It’s like a prize. One you want to keep winning over and over.
Untitled by Kendra Knaggs
There is a resistance between you and I these days. It is just you and I and the sun or the snow and the to do list. Though neither of our faults, the day to day of our new normal is rubbing us both raw. We battle. We push. We want what we want. Now. But I know the places where together we can both breathe and ease into a few minutes or hours of just being. For me it is the forest, for you always, always, the flowing water. This day we found water striders. I imagine we will find many things on many days in this quiet place.
There is a resistance between you and I these days. It is just you and I and the sun or the snow and the to do list. Though neither of our faults, the day to day of our new normal is rubbing us both raw. We battle. We push. We want what we want. Now. But I know the places where together we can both breathe and ease into a few minutes or hours of just being. For me it is the forest, for you always, always, the flowing water. This day we found water striders. I imagine we will find many things on many days in this quiet place.
"she’s seven" by Jennifer Chase
My dear, sweet Mags. On one hand, you are such a free and giving soul, but on the other, there are definitely times where you are closed off from me. You shut others out from your emotions. You're like me in that way, so I understand. But I love when you let your guard down, I love when you let your sweet spirit free.
My dear, sweet Mags. On one hand, you are such a free and giving soul, but on the other, there are definitely times where you are closed off from me. You shut others out from your emotions. You're like me in that way, so I understand. But I love when you let your guard down, I love when you let your sweet spirit free.
"Fruit trees" by Luciane Valles
Everybody had different expectations for our Saturday at our friend’s new property. While your sisters and I were excited about the swimming pool and your father was looking forward to spend time with his friends, you only thought about the fruit trees you were anxious to see. You told me that we should call it orchard because our friend had too many trees of various types of fruits. But in the end you were a bit disappointed because the fruits were too small and too green, you couldn’t even pick them, except for the oranges and the lemons that you brought home for you daily juices.
Everybody had different expectations for our Saturday at our friend’s new property. While your sisters and I were excited about the swimming pool and your father was looking forward to spend time with his friends, you only thought about the fruit trees you were anxious to see. You told me that we should call it orchard because our friend had too many trees of various types of fruits. But in the end you were a bit disappointed because the fruits were too small and too green, you couldn’t even pick them, except for the oranges and the lemons that you brought home for you daily juices.
"radiance" by Megan Millsop
as a flower determined to bloom, the sunlight finds you. it lays on your skin as gentle as spun silk. it brightens your eyes and produces a sparkle there as though you've captured a fallen star. the light follows you through each day, only resting through the night to begin again each morning. even on the cloudiest of days.
as a flower determined to bloom, the sunlight finds you. it lays on your skin as gentle as spun silk. it brightens your eyes and produces a sparkle there as though you've captured a fallen star. the light follows you through each day, only resting through the night to begin again each morning. even on the cloudiest of days.
"the proper princess" by Heather Robinson
these days you find me and ask, “do you want to play with me?” often times i pick the wrong answer. but when i do choose right, you reply, “what should we play?” you don’t ever wait for me to answer. instead you suggest we play the game where we are both princesses. sisters who are princesses. we are orphans. i am the proper princess. you are the silly one. the jester. you strive to entertain me with your jokes and your silly ways while i remain serious eager to accomplish things. this was all your idea from the start. normally when you play with your big brother or big sister you check in with them to find out what character they want to play in whatever game you decide upon. “who do you want to control?” i hear you ask them. but not with me. i have been typecast. this is of my own doing though. i am hopeful that in time if i can choose right more often, you will trust me enough to pick my own roles. i will select those that show you that i still know how to play. ones that prove that the many years that separate us haven’t completely erased my ability to imagine.
these days you find me and ask, “do you want to play with me?” often times i pick the wrong answer. but when i do choose right, you reply, “what should we play?” you don’t ever wait for me to answer. instead you suggest we play the game where we are both princesses. sisters who are princesses. we are orphans. i am the proper princess. you are the silly one. the jester. you strive to entertain me with your jokes and your silly ways while i remain serious eager to accomplish things. this was all your idea from the start. normally when you play with your big brother or big sister you check in with them to find out what character they want to play in whatever game you decide upon. “who do you want to control?” i hear you ask them. but not with me. i have been typecast. this is of my own doing though. i am hopeful that in time if i can choose right more often, you will trust me enough to pick my own roles. i will select those that show you that i still know how to play. ones that prove that the many years that separate us haven’t completely erased my ability to imagine.
"In the front garden" by Karlie Austin
You weren’t keen on helping out in the backyard. The loud noise of tools and hammering bothered you. Instead you joined me in the front garden; transplanting and pruning. You are your best self in nature. Your body at peace. I watched as you hummed while giving our front tree a ‘haircut’.
You weren’t keen on helping out in the backyard. The loud noise of tools and hammering bothered you. Instead you joined me in the front garden; transplanting and pruning. You are your best self in nature. Your body at peace. I watched as you hummed while giving our front tree a ‘haircut’.
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April 2019
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"Male Bonding" by Angie Menos
You have always enjoyed your screen time but over the winter we began to include movies. You love everything from cars and planes to superheroes to princesses and frogs. Your current favorite is Frozen and you sing “Let it Go” whenever the words come to mind. You don’t care where we are or who is listening. On this Saturday morning, you asked your Daddy to play it for you on his guitar and he quickly looked up the notes. I love that neither of you care that some people say it’s a “girl movie” or “girl song”. It’s just a song that you love to sing. And you sing it beautifully too.
You have always enjoyed your screen time but over the winter we began to include movies. You love everything from cars and planes to superheroes to princesses and frogs. Your current favorite is Frozen and you sing “Let it Go” whenever the words come to mind. You don’t care where we are or who is listening. On this Saturday morning, you asked your Daddy to play it for you on his guitar and he quickly looked up the notes. I love that neither of you care that some people say it’s a “girl movie” or “girl song”. It’s just a song that you love to sing. And you sing it beautifully too.
"Siblings" by Niv Shimshon
Don't worry my love; your sister will come home eventually, and let me tell you a little secret - when you are at your daycare, she is also impatiently waiting for you to return.
Don't worry my love; your sister will come home eventually, and let me tell you a little secret - when you are at your daycare, she is also impatiently waiting for you to return.
"Left Out" by Rachel Wheeler
It got awfully quiet upstairs. Daddy and I decided you’d either both fallen asleep or were up to something. We snuck upstairs and found you like this neither sleeping nor making mischief. We found you wrapped in blankets instead of our arms. We found you reading to each other instead of begging us for the nighttime story. We found you so engrossed in your book that you didn’t even notice the noise of Dad running downstairs to get my gear or me climbing up on the bed to take a picture. It almost hurt my feelings!
Almost.
I’m usually relieved to have you entertain each other for a bit. But for a split second I actually felt left out. Daddy reminded me of something different. I’m not left out. I’m left to observe the friendship you’re forging. I’m left to wonder at all that you’re learning. I’m left by Daddy’s side to write these moments onto my heart so when you two leave this home that we’re making I will have you with me in my heart instead of in front of my eyes.
It got awfully quiet upstairs. Daddy and I decided you’d either both fallen asleep or were up to something. We snuck upstairs and found you like this neither sleeping nor making mischief. We found you wrapped in blankets instead of our arms. We found you reading to each other instead of begging us for the nighttime story. We found you so engrossed in your book that you didn’t even notice the noise of Dad running downstairs to get my gear or me climbing up on the bed to take a picture. It almost hurt my feelings!
Almost.
I’m usually relieved to have you entertain each other for a bit. But for a split second I actually felt left out. Daddy reminded me of something different. I’m not left out. I’m left to observe the friendship you’re forging. I’m left to wonder at all that you’re learning. I’m left by Daddy’s side to write these moments onto my heart so when you two leave this home that we’re making I will have you with me in my heart instead of in front of my eyes.
"Nature Versus Nurture" by Bethany Braman
The great debate is not a debate when there are siblings. Tiny humans growing up in the same home, the same nurture, yet turning out exquisitely unique.
Your nature is to nurture. Woven into the fabric of your DNA, every breath you take, every beat of your tiny heart, has been to comfort, teach, and grow living beings smaller than you. As a toddler, you cried tears of love when you cradled your newborn baby brother. He dwarfed your lap, your little feet sticking out just past his diapered bum. You would have held him forever. You would rather teach preschoolers than participate in your own age appropriate activities. You gravitate to any baby in the room and work your magic, our very own “baby whisperer.” You have taught siblings to sit, crawl, walk, and developed individualized “baby school curriculum” for each one. Just today, you asked if you could start potty training the baby! And when you run out of babies, here you are, so full of love, you find another creature to shower with affection. Your nature is to nurture. This is beautiful to me.
The great debate is not a debate when there are siblings. Tiny humans growing up in the same home, the same nurture, yet turning out exquisitely unique.
Your nature is to nurture. Woven into the fabric of your DNA, every breath you take, every beat of your tiny heart, has been to comfort, teach, and grow living beings smaller than you. As a toddler, you cried tears of love when you cradled your newborn baby brother. He dwarfed your lap, your little feet sticking out just past his diapered bum. You would have held him forever. You would rather teach preschoolers than participate in your own age appropriate activities. You gravitate to any baby in the room and work your magic, our very own “baby whisperer.” You have taught siblings to sit, crawl, walk, and developed individualized “baby school curriculum” for each one. Just today, you asked if you could start potty training the baby! And when you run out of babies, here you are, so full of love, you find another creature to shower with affection. Your nature is to nurture. This is beautiful to me.
"Storms" by Janet Holsinger
We had a couple of tornado warnings today. Even though the storms weren’t actually that close to us, it made you and I anxious, just knowing that there might be a tornado. The weather people predicted bad storms until the early hours of the morning. We tucked you into bed, but a little while later I heard someone in the hall upstairs. There you were, lying on the floor with your pillow and blanket and your stuffed animals, crying and terrified of the tornados that might happen. I held you and tried to comfort you, but nothing I said could banish your fears. Even though I knew exactly how you felt, I didn’t know how to make you feel better. We went downstairs and daddy talked to you for awhile. He said he would have a sleepover in your room, because you didn’t want to leave your brother in there by himself in case he would be lonely. That helped calm you down. But you were still scared and sat downstairs and read for awhile, trying to distract yourself from the sounds of the wind and rain outside. When we finally all went upstairs to sleep, I saw on my phone that the storms had passed through earlier than expected. I went to tell you so it would be easier for you to rest. You finally gave me a sleepy, relieved smile and rolled over, feeling safe. Sweet dreams always, little one.
We had a couple of tornado warnings today. Even though the storms weren’t actually that close to us, it made you and I anxious, just knowing that there might be a tornado. The weather people predicted bad storms until the early hours of the morning. We tucked you into bed, but a little while later I heard someone in the hall upstairs. There you were, lying on the floor with your pillow and blanket and your stuffed animals, crying and terrified of the tornados that might happen. I held you and tried to comfort you, but nothing I said could banish your fears. Even though I knew exactly how you felt, I didn’t know how to make you feel better. We went downstairs and daddy talked to you for awhile. He said he would have a sleepover in your room, because you didn’t want to leave your brother in there by himself in case he would be lonely. That helped calm you down. But you were still scared and sat downstairs and read for awhile, trying to distract yourself from the sounds of the wind and rain outside. When we finally all went upstairs to sleep, I saw on my phone that the storms had passed through earlier than expected. I went to tell you so it would be easier for you to rest. You finally gave me a sleepy, relieved smile and rolled over, feeling safe. Sweet dreams always, little one.
"your sister" by Luciane Valles
sometimes your sister says she wishes she was an only child mainly because you love to steal and destroy her things. but I know she doesn’t mean it. on some days she adores to be your little mommy and help you to get dress or to brush your teeth, on other days she treats you like a big girl that dances soy luna songs alongside her. you are her best spectator, her best friend and her favourite girl.
sometimes your sister says she wishes she was an only child mainly because you love to steal and destroy her things. but I know she doesn’t mean it. on some days she adores to be your little mommy and help you to get dress or to brush your teeth, on other days she treats you like a big girl that dances soy luna songs alongside her. you are her best spectator, her best friend and her favourite girl.
untitled by Megan Millsop
on the way to gymnastics tonight, you told me your legs were too big. it took the breath from me. does she mean what i think she means? perhaps i misunderstood your meaning. and so i asked you. to which you replied with the same, clear enough that i did not in fact misunderstand you. i told you that every part of you was beautiful and just exactly the way it was meant to be. and yet i realized the hypocrisy in myself, when each tuesday evening i look at another mom who has four children that you’d never guess was so, wishing i would only have been so lucky after three. what is it about these bodies of ours as females that allows such negativity to plant roots and grow until it consumes us? i try not to let that part of me show up for you. because the very last thing i want is for you not to feel perfect just as you are. i want you to know you’re strong. you are confident. you are outgoing. you are kind. these are the messages we will instill in you. these are the things you must know and carry with you. do not conform to unrealistic ideals. instead, break through them and you’ll be an inspiration to others, just as you are to me.
on the way to gymnastics tonight, you told me your legs were too big. it took the breath from me. does she mean what i think she means? perhaps i misunderstood your meaning. and so i asked you. to which you replied with the same, clear enough that i did not in fact misunderstand you. i told you that every part of you was beautiful and just exactly the way it was meant to be. and yet i realized the hypocrisy in myself, when each tuesday evening i look at another mom who has four children that you’d never guess was so, wishing i would only have been so lucky after three. what is it about these bodies of ours as females that allows such negativity to plant roots and grow until it consumes us? i try not to let that part of me show up for you. because the very last thing i want is for you not to feel perfect just as you are. i want you to know you’re strong. you are confident. you are outgoing. you are kind. these are the messages we will instill in you. these are the things you must know and carry with you. do not conform to unrealistic ideals. instead, break through them and you’ll be an inspiration to others, just as you are to me.
"Great-Grandparents" by Jessie Delany
We never know how long the people we love will be with us. There is no greater gift that you can give someone than your time. Always remember those two things and use them to guide you. Always give the ones you love a hug. Always tell them you love them. Always give them that extra five minutes. You will never regret any of these things.
We never know how long the people we love will be with us. There is no greater gift that you can give someone than your time. Always remember those two things and use them to guide you. Always give the ones you love a hug. Always tell them you love them. Always give them that extra five minutes. You will never regret any of these things.
“Work” by Leah Vazquez
Daddy dresses you, and lathers you with bug spray. Together you spend the morning doing yard work. It’s one of your favorite things to do. Work. You work hard, and we praise you for it, because life is work, and it will help you achieve your dreams.
Daddy dresses you, and lathers you with bug spray. Together you spend the morning doing yard work. It’s one of your favorite things to do. Work. You work hard, and we praise you for it, because life is work, and it will help you achieve your dreams.
"Because I’m pulling away" by Karlie Austin
Here’s the thing, I’m not much of a fighter. I try to be and when I’m put in a situation where I need to protect you, I am fierce. But really, at the core of who I am, I love. Almost to a fault. I care so deeply in fact that it can cause me to pull away. Even from you.
You don’t really know much of the truth of this world, I try to shelter you from it. But it’s ugliness can consume me with worry if I allow it to. It’s darkness is suffocating. I want to be strong and fight for you and your future, but I am left feeling small and paralyzed.
And so I turn away from knowing the truth. I protect you by finding joy rather than hate. I, with gratitude, watch your story unfold in front of my eyes and see it’s magic and love and allow it to fill my heart and make me feel whole.
Here’s the thing, I’m not much of a fighter. I try to be and when I’m put in a situation where I need to protect you, I am fierce. But really, at the core of who I am, I love. Almost to a fault. I care so deeply in fact that it can cause me to pull away. Even from you.
You don’t really know much of the truth of this world, I try to shelter you from it. But it’s ugliness can consume me with worry if I allow it to. It’s darkness is suffocating. I want to be strong and fight for you and your future, but I am left feeling small and paralyzed.
And so I turn away from knowing the truth. I protect you by finding joy rather than hate. I, with gratitude, watch your story unfold in front of my eyes and see it’s magic and love and allow it to fill my heart and make me feel whole.
"A Breath" by Katie McMenamin
Kid number three (along with months and months of sleep deprivation) has made my patience run in short supply. By the end of many days, I find that I'm losing my temper over the tiniest things and then subsequently, kicking myself for being such a terrible mom. So, I'm trying hard to take deep breaths when I feel like I'm at my wits end. And I'm trying to say yes more often - to stop thinking about the mess and cleanup and chaos and indulge all their little kid desires...well, some of them anyway. Last night, that meant letting them spray each other with the hose until they were freezing and their brand new Easter dresses were drenched. And we all survived.
Kid number three (along with months and months of sleep deprivation) has made my patience run in short supply. By the end of many days, I find that I'm losing my temper over the tiniest things and then subsequently, kicking myself for being such a terrible mom. So, I'm trying hard to take deep breaths when I feel like I'm at my wits end. And I'm trying to say yes more often - to stop thinking about the mess and cleanup and chaos and indulge all their little kid desires...well, some of them anyway. Last night, that meant letting them spray each other with the hose until they were freezing and their brand new Easter dresses were drenched. And we all survived.
"Mommy Can You Put It In Your Pocket: Volume 5 – All Indy Edition" by Kendra Knaggs
You are always bringing me things. More often than not you take them back, chuck them in a stream, bury them in dirt, jump on them, break them, destroy them. At first I was always no, no, no’ing you wanting to hold on to these things, then realized that is your way in the world and was thankful you had shown them to me at all. In the last week or two you have begun to gift me your treasures. While welcoming Spring I am also welcoming all the flowers, interesting rocks, colourful garbage and recycling you can find.
You have asked all winter to fly the kite and my answer has been a constant, repetitious, “In the Spring.” This morning, we took a special trip to Boiler Beach where I know the wind is fierce and we launched that kite into the wild wind and you held on, fists tight and eyes wide. When you were done, still exhilarated and skipping about, you collected all the beautiful things you could find and asked me to put them in my pocket to keep them safe.
You are always bringing me things. More often than not you take them back, chuck them in a stream, bury them in dirt, jump on them, break them, destroy them. At first I was always no, no, no’ing you wanting to hold on to these things, then realized that is your way in the world and was thankful you had shown them to me at all. In the last week or two you have begun to gift me your treasures. While welcoming Spring I am also welcoming all the flowers, interesting rocks, colourful garbage and recycling you can find.
You have asked all winter to fly the kite and my answer has been a constant, repetitious, “In the Spring.” This morning, we took a special trip to Boiler Beach where I know the wind is fierce and we launched that kite into the wild wind and you held on, fists tight and eyes wide. When you were done, still exhilarated and skipping about, you collected all the beautiful things you could find and asked me to put them in my pocket to keep them safe.
"Hot Tub" by Karee Yates
Some days are harder than others. Today was one of those days for me. There was bickering between you three most of the day. I tried to stay calm and be the example, but I could feel myself slowly draining. Then one of you mentioned the hot tub and we remembered the bubbles you got for Easter and this happened. And I was reminded just how quickly our circumstances can change…often times we just have to barely scrape through the hard moments and joy is waiting for us around the corner.
Some days are harder than others. Today was one of those days for me. There was bickering between you three most of the day. I tried to stay calm and be the example, but I could feel myself slowly draining. Then one of you mentioned the hot tub and we remembered the bubbles you got for Easter and this happened. And I was reminded just how quickly our circumstances can change…often times we just have to barely scrape through the hard moments and joy is waiting for us around the corner.
"Tell Me Why" by Megan O'Donnell
‘Fartie, fartie, fartie’
‘Mummy, I did fart on chair’
‘Can I fart here?’
‘It wasn’t me!’
‘Benny did it!’
‘You did it!’
‘The big blue guy did it!’
I used to have a vague notion that males thought these things were funny. I had no idea. It is completely beyond me how or why a fart can cause pandemonium, leading to uproar and shrieks of laughter, I certainly don’t understand why a fart is a bonding experience or how fake ones nicely fill in the time. Sometimes I have a bit of a giggle but then daddy joins in…
‘Fartie, fartie, fartie’
‘Mummy, I did fart on chair’
‘Can I fart here?’
‘It wasn’t me!’
‘Benny did it!’
‘You did it!’
‘The big blue guy did it!’
I used to have a vague notion that males thought these things were funny. I had no idea. It is completely beyond me how or why a fart can cause pandemonium, leading to uproar and shrieks of laughter, I certainly don’t understand why a fart is a bonding experience or how fake ones nicely fill in the time. Sometimes I have a bit of a giggle but then daddy joins in…
“fit” by Heather Robinson
i admit it. i am not always the best fit for you. i don’t understand you some times. this is because we are so very different. there is no such thing as a small emotion in your book. i feel things deeply as well but i contain those feelings only sharing certain emotions with others. you, on the other hand, never hold back. i get embarrassed when people are looking at us when we are in public. you never notice their stares. i struggle to know the difference between those times when you are genuinely expressing your feelings and those moments when you are creating, when you are acting out a character. i am not asking you to change yourself. you are perfect just the way you are. one day you will use your gifts in extraordinary ways. it is your mama that needs to grow so that we can fit together more comfortably. you see, your childhood isn’t a time of big changes for only you. it is a time for me to grow new layers as well.
i admit it. i am not always the best fit for you. i don’t understand you some times. this is because we are so very different. there is no such thing as a small emotion in your book. i feel things deeply as well but i contain those feelings only sharing certain emotions with others. you, on the other hand, never hold back. i get embarrassed when people are looking at us when we are in public. you never notice their stares. i struggle to know the difference between those times when you are genuinely expressing your feelings and those moments when you are creating, when you are acting out a character. i am not asking you to change yourself. you are perfect just the way you are. one day you will use your gifts in extraordinary ways. it is your mama that needs to grow so that we can fit together more comfortably. you see, your childhood isn’t a time of big changes for only you. it is a time for me to grow new layers as well.
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September 2018
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"Summer 2018" by Rachel Wheeler
This was the summer of family and friends.
This was the summer of bug bites and late nights.
This was the summer of hikes and long drives.
This was the summer of strawberries and lady bugs.
This was the summer of swim team and sprinklers.
This was the summer mountain highs and ocean waves.
This was our summer.
Our long wonderful exhausting summer.
And maybe your favorite part.
This was the summer
of cartwheels
and fireworks.
This was the summer of family and friends.
This was the summer of bug bites and late nights.
This was the summer of hikes and long drives.
This was the summer of strawberries and lady bugs.
This was the summer of swim team and sprinklers.
This was the summer mountain highs and ocean waves.
This was our summer.
Our long wonderful exhausting summer.
And maybe your favorite part.
This was the summer
of cartwheels
and fireworks.
“Hide and Seek” by Debbie Deonier
Hide and seek is your favorite game right now. I’m pretty sure it’s how you learned to count to 10 already. You pick some great hiding places and are the quietest kid I know when you want to be. Needless to say I have freaked out a time or two when I couldn’t find you. You like seeking as much as you like hiding and you think it’s the most fun when I jump out and scare you right before you find me.
Today your sisters were home from school and daddy and I didn’t have work because there was a hurricane heading in our direction so everyone shut down to prepare for it. While your sisters were trying to get blown away by the strong wind so they could fly, you and daddy were playing hide and seek. There aren’t a whole lot of places to hide in our front yard but I think daddy kept you pretty busy walking in circles around that big bush.
Hide and seek is your favorite game right now. I’m pretty sure it’s how you learned to count to 10 already. You pick some great hiding places and are the quietest kid I know when you want to be. Needless to say I have freaked out a time or two when I couldn’t find you. You like seeking as much as you like hiding and you think it’s the most fun when I jump out and scare you right before you find me.
Today your sisters were home from school and daddy and I didn’t have work because there was a hurricane heading in our direction so everyone shut down to prepare for it. While your sisters were trying to get blown away by the strong wind so they could fly, you and daddy were playing hide and seek. There aren’t a whole lot of places to hide in our front yard but I think daddy kept you pretty busy walking in circles around that big bush.
"subtitles" by Luciane Valles
so suddenly you are interested in watching movies again and that’s how you watch them, with english subtitles. one day you asked me to change to greek to only realise it was impossible. you then decided english is just fine and never asked another language. every new line that appears you pause and read it out loud. it doesn’t matter how long it takes to watch the whole movie because when you like something, you really like something and the rest doesn't matter.
so suddenly you are interested in watching movies again and that’s how you watch them, with english subtitles. one day you asked me to change to greek to only realise it was impossible. you then decided english is just fine and never asked another language. every new line that appears you pause and read it out loud. it doesn’t matter how long it takes to watch the whole movie because when you like something, you really like something and the rest doesn't matter.
“that old tricycle” by Erika Kao
All summer long, you've been watching your sister attempt to master riding on two wheels. Many times, Daddy offered you the little red tricycle, the one he learned on when he was your age, but you weren't ready, and we didn't push. We had confidence that you would ride whenever you felt ready.
Then just a few days ago, during a rainy afternoon, you discovered this old plastic tricycle, which was destined for the curb since it was falling apart. And you decided that today, on this rainy afternoon in the garage, was the day you were going to pedal all by yourself. It required a little bit of duct tape to keep the handlebars together, but after that simple fix, you were off.
I can't tell you how proud you were of yourself. But love, it's nothing compared to how proud we are.
I guess we're not going to throw out that tricycle after all.
All summer long, you've been watching your sister attempt to master riding on two wheels. Many times, Daddy offered you the little red tricycle, the one he learned on when he was your age, but you weren't ready, and we didn't push. We had confidence that you would ride whenever you felt ready.
Then just a few days ago, during a rainy afternoon, you discovered this old plastic tricycle, which was destined for the curb since it was falling apart. And you decided that today, on this rainy afternoon in the garage, was the day you were going to pedal all by yourself. It required a little bit of duct tape to keep the handlebars together, but after that simple fix, you were off.
I can't tell you how proud you were of yourself. But love, it's nothing compared to how proud we are.
I guess we're not going to throw out that tricycle after all.
"a change of tone" by Heather Robinson
when i come into your bedroom, you exclaim “what!” you see the hurt, confused look on my face and quickly change your tone. you repeat yourself but this time in an inquiring way. i apologize for coming into your room. lately i find myself saying sorry to you even when i have no reason to be. i tell you that i don’t mean to interrupt your book (most likely your 7th one that day). i tell you that you haven’t come out of your room since breakfast and that i miss seeing you, talking with you. you put down the kindle and you reach out to hug me. i think about not letting go of you. i think about holding on forever. but just as quickly as our embrace begins, it ends. you pull away reaching for the kindle again. and i take my cue making sure to close the door all the way behind me.
when i come into your bedroom, you exclaim “what!” you see the hurt, confused look on my face and quickly change your tone. you repeat yourself but this time in an inquiring way. i apologize for coming into your room. lately i find myself saying sorry to you even when i have no reason to be. i tell you that i don’t mean to interrupt your book (most likely your 7th one that day). i tell you that you haven’t come out of your room since breakfast and that i miss seeing you, talking with you. you put down the kindle and you reach out to hug me. i think about not letting go of you. i think about holding on forever. but just as quickly as our embrace begins, it ends. you pull away reaching for the kindle again. and i take my cue making sure to close the door all the way behind me.
"Freedom" by Chloè Rosser
I often hear that after your baby turns one you gain a bit of your freedom back. This might not look like much but this is my version of freedom.
I often hear that after your baby turns one you gain a bit of your freedom back. This might not look like much but this is my version of freedom.
"Pulled away" by Karlie Austin
I’ve started this letter to you half a dozen times over the past couple weeks, each time stumbling to find the words to express how I’m feeling. This isn’t your first year at school or my first year back to work after a summer together. And yet I find myself fighting back tears thinking of how much my heart hurts missing you each day. For the first time, in a long time I’m feeling more pulled away from you. Something feels different this time and I can’t quite figure out what it is. I can tell you’re feeling it too and that’s making it all the more heavy on my heart. Maybe it’s that you’re more independent now, and we find ourselves sharing space in a much different way. Maybe I’m just being pulled in too many directions. Maybe I’m simply spreading myself too thin and am not feeling I’m doing my best at any one thing, including being your mama. Can I tell you a secret… being a grown up is so hard sometimes, especially when all I want to do is cuddle up and hold you close.
I’ve started this letter to you half a dozen times over the past couple weeks, each time stumbling to find the words to express how I’m feeling. This isn’t your first year at school or my first year back to work after a summer together. And yet I find myself fighting back tears thinking of how much my heart hurts missing you each day. For the first time, in a long time I’m feeling more pulled away from you. Something feels different this time and I can’t quite figure out what it is. I can tell you’re feeling it too and that’s making it all the more heavy on my heart. Maybe it’s that you’re more independent now, and we find ourselves sharing space in a much different way. Maybe I’m just being pulled in too many directions. Maybe I’m simply spreading myself too thin and am not feeling I’m doing my best at any one thing, including being your mama. Can I tell you a secret… being a grown up is so hard sometimes, especially when all I want to do is cuddle up and hold you close.
"Letting go" by Mandy Benoit
The half used bin of formula that has lived in our upstairs hallway closet since you started drinking whole milk ... the baby bjorn that hasn’t held you since your robust little body would no longer fit inside, but yet I won’t give it up. The sound of your voice & the way you sing mama mamaa in a melodic tone... The way your little fat rectangular feet make me wonder how they keep you from falling. The way I know exactly where to grab the short and undulating roll on your thigh to make you throw your head back and lose yourself in a fit of laughter. How you give me squinty eyed smiles and barrel into my arms when I sit down and hold them open for you. I am your mama and your need for me is as tightly wrapped around me as mine is for you. I hold on to every scrap, every moment, every morsel that has held you, nurtured you, connected me to you. It’s my hopeless way to lasso time and pull it to me. To prevent it from even tiptoeing on... so that I can bury my lips into your fat little cheek and feel your warm skin on mine... from now until eternity.
The half used bin of formula that has lived in our upstairs hallway closet since you started drinking whole milk ... the baby bjorn that hasn’t held you since your robust little body would no longer fit inside, but yet I won’t give it up. The sound of your voice & the way you sing mama mamaa in a melodic tone... The way your little fat rectangular feet make me wonder how they keep you from falling. The way I know exactly where to grab the short and undulating roll on your thigh to make you throw your head back and lose yourself in a fit of laughter. How you give me squinty eyed smiles and barrel into my arms when I sit down and hold them open for you. I am your mama and your need for me is as tightly wrapped around me as mine is for you. I hold on to every scrap, every moment, every morsel that has held you, nurtured you, connected me to you. It’s my hopeless way to lasso time and pull it to me. To prevent it from even tiptoeing on... so that I can bury my lips into your fat little cheek and feel your warm skin on mine... from now until eternity.
Untitled by Megan Millsop
We went to Gooseberry Falls with our friends to hike around on Saturday. I haven’t been that far north of Duluth in years. It was so refreshing in every way, I shed a layer of anxiety as soon as we left the house that morning. We took the North Shore Scenic Drive, the road your father ran a multitude of marathons on, many with me amongst the crowd to cheer him onward and resupply him with gum or gel or bar. We stopped for coffee in Two Harbors, the town your dad and I were married, before continuing toward our hiking destination.
The weather was windy and overcast so we put on our jackets and hats and found a trail to explore. A ways down, the sun began to shine intermittently and our moving bodies began to warm. We shed our layers and investigated every nook and cranny along our path. We searched for walking sticks and berries and secret hiding places and benches to rest upon. One of the paths branched off towards a river that runs into Lake Superior, where the water is never warm but always beautiful. That didn’t stop any of you from putting your little hands in though. I wish we had adventures like these more often, when you really cannot ask for more but to be with friends and with each other on a magnificent day out in nature, with a breeze upon us and nowhere else we need to be.
We went to Gooseberry Falls with our friends to hike around on Saturday. I haven’t been that far north of Duluth in years. It was so refreshing in every way, I shed a layer of anxiety as soon as we left the house that morning. We took the North Shore Scenic Drive, the road your father ran a multitude of marathons on, many with me amongst the crowd to cheer him onward and resupply him with gum or gel or bar. We stopped for coffee in Two Harbors, the town your dad and I were married, before continuing toward our hiking destination.
The weather was windy and overcast so we put on our jackets and hats and found a trail to explore. A ways down, the sun began to shine intermittently and our moving bodies began to warm. We shed our layers and investigated every nook and cranny along our path. We searched for walking sticks and berries and secret hiding places and benches to rest upon. One of the paths branched off towards a river that runs into Lake Superior, where the water is never warm but always beautiful. That didn’t stop any of you from putting your little hands in though. I wish we had adventures like these more often, when you really cannot ask for more but to be with friends and with each other on a magnificent day out in nature, with a breeze upon us and nowhere else we need to be.
"The Same But Different" by Kendra Knaggs
In less than one month we listed our farm, bought a house, sold our farm and moved to an entirely new beach town to a completely different way of life. I’m a bit topsy turvey. You and your brother though, you remind me, nothing changes that much. Not really. Your days look exactly the same. You dig. And dig. And dig. And sometimes you find the treasure. Yesterday you unearthed a red tractor in the back forest. You could not have been gifted a better treasure if you requested it from the wind yourself. I’ve been talking to the wind myself these days, asking for a moment here and a moment there just to breathe a little.
In less than one month we listed our farm, bought a house, sold our farm and moved to an entirely new beach town to a completely different way of life. I’m a bit topsy turvey. You and your brother though, you remind me, nothing changes that much. Not really. Your days look exactly the same. You dig. And dig. And dig. And sometimes you find the treasure. Yesterday you unearthed a red tractor in the back forest. You could not have been gifted a better treasure if you requested it from the wind yourself. I’ve been talking to the wind myself these days, asking for a moment here and a moment there just to breathe a little.
Untitled by Jessie Delany
Eight and a half years. That is how long it took before you realized that Daddy could die at his job. We never hid it from you, and I knew you would figure it out someday, but I wasn't ready. Daddy was at work and we were talking about 9/11. It finally clicked. Daddy is a firefighter. Firefighters died on 9/11. Daddy could die. I will never forget the look of fear that was in your eyes. I recognized that fear. It is the same fear that has always lived deep down inside me. No one has ever seen that fear. Not even Daddy. I always kept it to myself and went on with my day. Every now and then it would try to surface, but I brushed it aside. I couldn't ignore this fear. It was staring back at me and you are my worrier. Was this going to be the new thing that kept you awake and brought you to my room at three in the morning? I held you and we talked about being a firefighter and why people do it. I didn't have a good answer. I truly don't get it. It surprised me though that you never once thought about why Daddy did it. You never once considered the fact that he could do something else, but then again neither have I. He has always been and always will be a firefighter. It is who he is. Asking him to do something else would be like making him walk without his legs. He could do it, but he wouldn't be the same Daddy. Surprisingly, your fear diminished. It was still there, but it was pushed aside and stored with all of your Eagles and baseball facts. Every now and then I see it come back, but like me, you have learned to live with it.
I think about this moment and so many other things every year on this day. I think about how all you wanted for you ninth birthday was to go to the 9/11 Memorial and see Paddy Brown's name. I must say though, I am happy that you have picked him to be your hero. I think about how you and I watched the opening of that memorial when you were just three years old and I struggled to explain to your innocent face why these people died and why we need to remember them. I think about so many people are suffering still from that day. I think about how you will probably follow in your Daddy's footsteps and my fear will double in size. I think about how the world has changed and unfortunately not for the better. I think about how I have to call Uncle Joshy since it is his birthday. I think about how Daddy hates that so many people profit from this day. In the end though, I always think about you. I think about how you will never forget this day even though it is history in your eyes. I think about how I taught you to look for the people doing good when something bad is happening. I think about how you always try to help others even when it isn't the cool thing to do. I think about all of this while really trying to not think at all.
Eight and a half years. That is how long it took before you realized that Daddy could die at his job. We never hid it from you, and I knew you would figure it out someday, but I wasn't ready. Daddy was at work and we were talking about 9/11. It finally clicked. Daddy is a firefighter. Firefighters died on 9/11. Daddy could die. I will never forget the look of fear that was in your eyes. I recognized that fear. It is the same fear that has always lived deep down inside me. No one has ever seen that fear. Not even Daddy. I always kept it to myself and went on with my day. Every now and then it would try to surface, but I brushed it aside. I couldn't ignore this fear. It was staring back at me and you are my worrier. Was this going to be the new thing that kept you awake and brought you to my room at three in the morning? I held you and we talked about being a firefighter and why people do it. I didn't have a good answer. I truly don't get it. It surprised me though that you never once thought about why Daddy did it. You never once considered the fact that he could do something else, but then again neither have I. He has always been and always will be a firefighter. It is who he is. Asking him to do something else would be like making him walk without his legs. He could do it, but he wouldn't be the same Daddy. Surprisingly, your fear diminished. It was still there, but it was pushed aside and stored with all of your Eagles and baseball facts. Every now and then I see it come back, but like me, you have learned to live with it.
I think about this moment and so many other things every year on this day. I think about how all you wanted for you ninth birthday was to go to the 9/11 Memorial and see Paddy Brown's name. I must say though, I am happy that you have picked him to be your hero. I think about how you and I watched the opening of that memorial when you were just three years old and I struggled to explain to your innocent face why these people died and why we need to remember them. I think about so many people are suffering still from that day. I think about how you will probably follow in your Daddy's footsteps and my fear will double in size. I think about how the world has changed and unfortunately not for the better. I think about how I have to call Uncle Joshy since it is his birthday. I think about how Daddy hates that so many people profit from this day. In the end though, I always think about you. I think about how you will never forget this day even though it is history in your eyes. I think about how I taught you to look for the people doing good when something bad is happening. I think about how you always try to help others even when it isn't the cool thing to do. I think about all of this while really trying to not think at all.
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May 2018
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"the breeze" by Luciane Valles
typically on saturday mornings it’s just you and me. your siblings leave early with dad for swimming lessons. you cry when you realize they are leaving but not on this particular morning. you were entertained putting your little hand through the window opening to feel the breeze, you couldn’t get enough of that. but then you started to get curious about what was out there, on the street. I picked-up the stool so could see better with our own eyes. you looked for dad but he wasn’t there. It was only you and me and your infinite curiosity, the world seems like a really fun place to you.
typically on saturday mornings it’s just you and me. your siblings leave early with dad for swimming lessons. you cry when you realize they are leaving but not on this particular morning. you were entertained putting your little hand through the window opening to feel the breeze, you couldn’t get enough of that. but then you started to get curious about what was out there, on the street. I picked-up the stool so could see better with our own eyes. you looked for dad but he wasn’t there. It was only you and me and your infinite curiosity, the world seems like a really fun place to you.
"acts of kindness" by Heather Robinson
you don’t sleep. you never have. or at least not since i have known you. i remember our early days together when you were still traveling for work each week and returning home to me on the weekends. you told me that you had been running on six hours of sleep a night for years. i was surprised by this since i tend to melt into a heap of raw emotions when i get less than 8 hours of sleep a night. 9-10 is my optimal amount of sleep. but you told me 6 was all you needed. and so you carried this debt with you into parenthood.
your love language is acts of kindness. you sacrifice for those you love most. for me, you sacrificed your sleep. this started with our first baby almost 9 years ago. i was a wreck. i was trying my best to function on 3 hours of sleep each night during those first three months. she just wouldn’t latch on. so even when she was sleeping soundly through the night, i was up pumping. my alarm would go off and i would hook up to the pump waking the baby. then you would wake up so you could give her a bottle of my milk while you entered your sweepstakes. i had forgotten all about that late night phase of yours and all your winnings. but after a certain point, you stopped me. you told me to let go. i thought for sure that if i missed a pump or if she missed a bottle, our delicate dance would end abruptly and i would let her down. i would let myself down. all i wanted was to nurse her and i did eventually. but i don’t think i would have ever gotten to that point if you hadn’t taken her out of our room and moved into the guest bedroom with her. you assured me that everything was going to be fine with this new sleeping plan. and sure enough you were right. we all began to sleep a bit more and i stopped crying all day.
there were nights when i felt guilty knowing that i was sleeping through a feeding. i should have been the one awake instead of you. i should have been holding her in my arms late at night. but you sacrificed your sleep so that you could return home from work every day to not just a thriving, happy baby girl but also a healthy, sane wife. you did this because you aren’t motivated by "should haves" but instead love. and with each new love that we add to our family, the load becomes heavier. but you my true love keep pushing through. you show your strength even when you are at your weakest.
you don’t sleep. you never have. or at least not since i have known you. i remember our early days together when you were still traveling for work each week and returning home to me on the weekends. you told me that you had been running on six hours of sleep a night for years. i was surprised by this since i tend to melt into a heap of raw emotions when i get less than 8 hours of sleep a night. 9-10 is my optimal amount of sleep. but you told me 6 was all you needed. and so you carried this debt with you into parenthood.
your love language is acts of kindness. you sacrifice for those you love most. for me, you sacrificed your sleep. this started with our first baby almost 9 years ago. i was a wreck. i was trying my best to function on 3 hours of sleep each night during those first three months. she just wouldn’t latch on. so even when she was sleeping soundly through the night, i was up pumping. my alarm would go off and i would hook up to the pump waking the baby. then you would wake up so you could give her a bottle of my milk while you entered your sweepstakes. i had forgotten all about that late night phase of yours and all your winnings. but after a certain point, you stopped me. you told me to let go. i thought for sure that if i missed a pump or if she missed a bottle, our delicate dance would end abruptly and i would let her down. i would let myself down. all i wanted was to nurse her and i did eventually. but i don’t think i would have ever gotten to that point if you hadn’t taken her out of our room and moved into the guest bedroom with her. you assured me that everything was going to be fine with this new sleeping plan. and sure enough you were right. we all began to sleep a bit more and i stopped crying all day.
there were nights when i felt guilty knowing that i was sleeping through a feeding. i should have been the one awake instead of you. i should have been holding her in my arms late at night. but you sacrificed your sleep so that you could return home from work every day to not just a thriving, happy baby girl but also a healthy, sane wife. you did this because you aren’t motivated by "should haves" but instead love. and with each new love that we add to our family, the load becomes heavier. but you my true love keep pushing through. you show your strength even when you are at your weakest.
"Another Day" by Megan O'Donnell
The start of another day. Another day of learning. Learning how to use the toilet. Learning how to brush your own teeth. Learning how to dress yourself. You have also learnt how to charm and how to pass the blame. I asked you what happened here and you said 'he do it'. You said it with sincerity and an air of cooperation. Maybe you should learn how to cover your tracks....
The start of another day. Another day of learning. Learning how to use the toilet. Learning how to brush your own teeth. Learning how to dress yourself. You have also learnt how to charm and how to pass the blame. I asked you what happened here and you said 'he do it'. You said it with sincerity and an air of cooperation. Maybe you should learn how to cover your tracks....
"The Garbage Man is Your Friend" by Alison Bents
Sweet, old Etta. Lately June has been super into you, looking for you when she wakes up, "arf arfing" in your direction, seeking you out for some "gentle pets" and generally just being fascinated by you. You're not exactly used to this kind of attention, but you're kind of loving it. Sweet girl. We gave you an extra long walk today, and the garbage man stopped us to give you a treat saying, "Remember, the garbage man is your friend!"
Sweet, old Etta. Lately June has been super into you, looking for you when she wakes up, "arf arfing" in your direction, seeking you out for some "gentle pets" and generally just being fascinated by you. You're not exactly used to this kind of attention, but you're kind of loving it. Sweet girl. We gave you an extra long walk today, and the garbage man stopped us to give you a treat saying, "Remember, the garbage man is your friend!"
“school” by Erika Kao
I worried about sending you to school. Last September, big sister was starting Kindergarten and a day later, you were starting preschool.
From your very first day eight months ago, you have loved going to school. I don’t think there has been a single day when I left you in tears. Some days, you can’t get out of the car fast enough.
In the morning, I deliver you with a kiss and you leave me with a smile, and later, I collect you, and you sprint into my arms and my heart explodes. And then you ask me where your treat is, and once you’re buckled, I hand over a Hershey’s Kiss.
On this day, Daddy and I brought you along to your parent-teacher conference. We were early, and you wanted to show us your classroom and your cubby, and your beautiful artwork that was hanging on the wall.
You have such a sense of pride, such a love for this place. This place that belongs only to you. This place that will forever have a special home in our hearts.
I worried about sending you to school. Last September, big sister was starting Kindergarten and a day later, you were starting preschool.
From your very first day eight months ago, you have loved going to school. I don’t think there has been a single day when I left you in tears. Some days, you can’t get out of the car fast enough.
In the morning, I deliver you with a kiss and you leave me with a smile, and later, I collect you, and you sprint into my arms and my heart explodes. And then you ask me where your treat is, and once you’re buckled, I hand over a Hershey’s Kiss.
On this day, Daddy and I brought you along to your parent-teacher conference. We were early, and you wanted to show us your classroom and your cubby, and your beautiful artwork that was hanging on the wall.
You have such a sense of pride, such a love for this place. This place that belongs only to you. This place that will forever have a special home in our hearts.
"style icon" by Abigail Fahey
No matter how I dress you, you will invariably design to put your own stylish twist on my choice of clothing. Todays cute outfit was very quickly rejected. The white socks and sweet shoes were immediately replaced by some brown socks and your brothers trainers that are at the very least 3 sizes too big for you. The checked shirt, again, too big and the skateboard completed the look and you were happy to continue the day. As much as it annoys me that you can never remain in the outfits I would like and you double my washing loads, I totally love your sense of individuality and need to put your own stamp on things. You are so wonderfully comfortable with who you are, I hope this always remains to be the case.
No matter how I dress you, you will invariably design to put your own stylish twist on my choice of clothing. Todays cute outfit was very quickly rejected. The white socks and sweet shoes were immediately replaced by some brown socks and your brothers trainers that are at the very least 3 sizes too big for you. The checked shirt, again, too big and the skateboard completed the look and you were happy to continue the day. As much as it annoys me that you can never remain in the outfits I would like and you double my washing loads, I totally love your sense of individuality and need to put your own stamp on things. You are so wonderfully comfortable with who you are, I hope this always remains to be the case.
"The Dress" by Catherine Qaldrich
Feeling honored that you wore this very special dress, sewn by your Great Grandmother, for your First Communion. Hard to believe it, but it was first worn in 1955 by your Great Aunt Mary. Then it was handed down to your Great Aunt Cathy, your Grandmother, Madonna, and then to your Great Aunt Loretta for their First Communion ceremonies. It was also worn by Aunt Jen. Each of their initials are sewn on the inside of the collar and now yours will be as well. Such a special dress for such a special girl who is so very suddenly growing up before our eyes.
Feeling honored that you wore this very special dress, sewn by your Great Grandmother, for your First Communion. Hard to believe it, but it was first worn in 1955 by your Great Aunt Mary. Then it was handed down to your Great Aunt Cathy, your Grandmother, Madonna, and then to your Great Aunt Loretta for their First Communion ceremonies. It was also worn by Aunt Jen. Each of their initials are sewn on the inside of the collar and now yours will be as well. Such a special dress for such a special girl who is so very suddenly growing up before our eyes.
"Redefinition From Bygone Traditions" by Megan Millsop
We head to Nana’s and are transported into another place in time upon arrival. We enter into the woods from the road and suddenly the city, the daily chaos of life, the worry that weighs us simply ceases to exist. To you, it’s magical in a different way. There are endless explorations to embark upon, limitless beauty to observe: the rocks, the leaves, the water, the wildlife, the colors are never the same from day to day.
I grew up with my own version of this perfection and we called it The Hill. You would know why if you saw it. Some days of the year we weren’t sure we’d make it up to the house should there be snow or ice. And every time we left, Papa and Grandma would wave goodbye until we descended far enough to no longer see them standing there above us.
My heart aches to think that you three will never know the joy of that place as I did all the years of my youth. But as I think back while looking forward, I realize it isn’t a special place you lack, it’s transference. This is the place for you that supplies overwhelming joy and excitement, a fondness unlike any other place you’ll know. The details look different, but the traditions blossom still the same.
We head to Nana’s and are transported into another place in time upon arrival. We enter into the woods from the road and suddenly the city, the daily chaos of life, the worry that weighs us simply ceases to exist. To you, it’s magical in a different way. There are endless explorations to embark upon, limitless beauty to observe: the rocks, the leaves, the water, the wildlife, the colors are never the same from day to day.
I grew up with my own version of this perfection and we called it The Hill. You would know why if you saw it. Some days of the year we weren’t sure we’d make it up to the house should there be snow or ice. And every time we left, Papa and Grandma would wave goodbye until we descended far enough to no longer see them standing there above us.
My heart aches to think that you three will never know the joy of that place as I did all the years of my youth. But as I think back while looking forward, I realize it isn’t a special place you lack, it’s transference. This is the place for you that supplies overwhelming joy and excitement, a fondness unlike any other place you’ll know. The details look different, but the traditions blossom still the same.
"The Shed" by Kendra Knaggs
You call this patch The Winner's Circle. You stand like a champion and make your brother fight for his bit of light. You should know that helping him find his light will never dim your own, it will make it radiate out into world that much more.
You call this patch The Winner's Circle. You stand like a champion and make your brother fight for his bit of light. You should know that helping him find his light will never dim your own, it will make it radiate out into world that much more.
"Senses" by Bethany Braman
I’ll help you find shade. Your baby blue eyes squint in the sun as you examine every single detail you see.
I’ll bless you when you sneeze. Scents of cut grass and fresh dirt tickle your nose.
I’ll whisper to you what you hear. You look at me and with your eyes you ask, “what is that sound? Should I cry?” I smile and you know you are safe.
I’ll hold your hand while you find your balance on the uneven ground.
I’ll retrieve the rocks out of your mouth. Thank you for offering, but I have tasted them before and I’m not a fan.
I’ll brush the dirt and grass off your dimpled fingers. When you fall, you hold your hands above your head. You don’t like to push up from the grass, it tickles more than carpet.
This is how I envision our summer because I have done summers like this before with your brother and sisters. I find myself feeling frustrated. Thinking of things I would like to do outside, productive things, active things, fast things. . .
You are my final semester of slow summers. My autumn of baby season. My last chance to learn the truth about why the world can seem so unsatisfying. Why I feel the need to rush around and improve things. Maybe, just maybe, it is because I have stopped experiencing the world the way you do, with all my senses.
I’ll help you find shade. Your baby blue eyes squint in the sun as you examine every single detail you see.
I’ll bless you when you sneeze. Scents of cut grass and fresh dirt tickle your nose.
I’ll whisper to you what you hear. You look at me and with your eyes you ask, “what is that sound? Should I cry?” I smile and you know you are safe.
I’ll hold your hand while you find your balance on the uneven ground.
I’ll retrieve the rocks out of your mouth. Thank you for offering, but I have tasted them before and I’m not a fan.
I’ll brush the dirt and grass off your dimpled fingers. When you fall, you hold your hands above your head. You don’t like to push up from the grass, it tickles more than carpet.
This is how I envision our summer because I have done summers like this before with your brother and sisters. I find myself feeling frustrated. Thinking of things I would like to do outside, productive things, active things, fast things. . .
You are my final semester of slow summers. My autumn of baby season. My last chance to learn the truth about why the world can seem so unsatisfying. Why I feel the need to rush around and improve things. Maybe, just maybe, it is because I have stopped experiencing the world the way you do, with all my senses.
"Bedtime in May" by Jennifer Chase
"Eenie meenie, tat-a bow, my mom is the beary best one and you are not it"
Every night lately, this is how you decide whether you will sleep in your 'bonk bed' or in the fuzzy bear sleeping bag that you got for your 4th birthday. At first you honestly let the rhyme decide, but now I can tell you are adjusting as you recite it so that the sleeping bag always wins. It's funny that you like the sleeping bag so much, because you hate sleeping with covers on. Every night when I go to check on you, you are on top of or next to it, instead of how I tucked you into it. You definitely march to the beat of your own drum. It drives me absolutely bonkers, but it's also one of the things I love most about you. Motherhood feelings are weird.
"Eenie meenie, tat-a bow, my mom is the beary best one and you are not it"
Every night lately, this is how you decide whether you will sleep in your 'bonk bed' or in the fuzzy bear sleeping bag that you got for your 4th birthday. At first you honestly let the rhyme decide, but now I can tell you are adjusting as you recite it so that the sleeping bag always wins. It's funny that you like the sleeping bag so much, because you hate sleeping with covers on. Every night when I go to check on you, you are on top of or next to it, instead of how I tucked you into it. You definitely march to the beat of your own drum. It drives me absolutely bonkers, but it's also one of the things I love most about you. Motherhood feelings are weird.
"Always Pet the Whale" by Jessie Delany
Today was your dream. It was the perfect play. Hard hit ball goes to the wall, perfect throw in to the short stop. Play at third but the runner keeps running. You were is the right spot blocking the plate. You got ran over but held onto the ball. The runner was out. The major leaguers couldn’t do it better. You have wanted to do this for years. I didn’t capture that moment. I was too busy being your mom, cheering and praying that you would hold onto the ball. Everyone judged me. How can I capture so many moments and miss the big one? They didn’t realize that I didn’t miss it. I was right there watching it unfold. I had the camera in my hand. It was ready to go. I could have taken the photo, but I didn’t want to see this one through my viewfinder. I wanted to be there as you lived your dream. I wanted it to be a part of it, not just a bystander. I made the right decision. I don’t care what anyone says. This is the celebration afterwards. Look at your excitement. I was jumping too but still I wondered. Did I choose wrong? I let people make me doubt myself. Someone told me a story about a photographer who was out whale watching. The whales came right up to the boat. The photographer took a few photos and then put the camera down to pet the whale. Afterwards he talked to the other photographers to see if they enjoyed petting the whale too. They were so busy taking photos that they never pet the whale. They missed out. I refuse to let other people make me miss out. Today I made sure I got to pet the whale, and I wouldn’t change a thing. I have no doubt that you will make the play again. That is how much you have grown this year. Next time, I promise to try to capture it. As I sit here though and look at this photo, I have never been prouder of myself for not capturing a photo and living in the moment. No more self-doubt from me baby bear. Just you mom, sometimes cheering, sometimes snapping away but always supporting you.
Today was your dream. It was the perfect play. Hard hit ball goes to the wall, perfect throw in to the short stop. Play at third but the runner keeps running. You were is the right spot blocking the plate. You got ran over but held onto the ball. The runner was out. The major leaguers couldn’t do it better. You have wanted to do this for years. I didn’t capture that moment. I was too busy being your mom, cheering and praying that you would hold onto the ball. Everyone judged me. How can I capture so many moments and miss the big one? They didn’t realize that I didn’t miss it. I was right there watching it unfold. I had the camera in my hand. It was ready to go. I could have taken the photo, but I didn’t want to see this one through my viewfinder. I wanted to be there as you lived your dream. I wanted it to be a part of it, not just a bystander. I made the right decision. I don’t care what anyone says. This is the celebration afterwards. Look at your excitement. I was jumping too but still I wondered. Did I choose wrong? I let people make me doubt myself. Someone told me a story about a photographer who was out whale watching. The whales came right up to the boat. The photographer took a few photos and then put the camera down to pet the whale. Afterwards he talked to the other photographers to see if they enjoyed petting the whale too. They were so busy taking photos that they never pet the whale. They missed out. I refuse to let other people make me miss out. Today I made sure I got to pet the whale, and I wouldn’t change a thing. I have no doubt that you will make the play again. That is how much you have grown this year. Next time, I promise to try to capture it. As I sit here though and look at this photo, I have never been prouder of myself for not capturing a photo and living in the moment. No more self-doubt from me baby bear. Just you mom, sometimes cheering, sometimes snapping away but always supporting you.
“One, two” by Karlie Austin
“One, two” I said, as I helped you into your tutu. I've counted each foot into your pants, socks and shoes for the past 6 years. I was startled when you said… “you know, you don’t need to say that anymore… I’m not a baby…”
I think you could tell I was a little hurt, I was trying to hide it, but I must not have done a good enough job. “...I like that you say that to me mommy, I just don’t need you to do it anymore.” You reassured me. I understand, you are right. You’re almost 7, I don’t need to be counting to help you into things… the truth is I hardly help you into anything these days, so I jumped at the chance to carefully put on tonight’s costume. It’s funny how this job of motherhood becomes ritualistic. Our jobs set out for us on repeat for days and years feel endless, until we’re not needed in the same way anymore.
“One, two” I said, as I helped you into your tutu. I've counted each foot into your pants, socks and shoes for the past 6 years. I was startled when you said… “you know, you don’t need to say that anymore… I’m not a baby…”
I think you could tell I was a little hurt, I was trying to hide it, but I must not have done a good enough job. “...I like that you say that to me mommy, I just don’t need you to do it anymore.” You reassured me. I understand, you are right. You’re almost 7, I don’t need to be counting to help you into things… the truth is I hardly help you into anything these days, so I jumped at the chance to carefully put on tonight’s costume. It’s funny how this job of motherhood becomes ritualistic. Our jobs set out for us on repeat for days and years feel endless, until we’re not needed in the same way anymore.
"At Dinnertime" by Rachel Wheeler
Remember that night some 12-ish years ago when we were first dating and we went for a walk at the Mansfield Hollow in Connecticut? The sun was setting and you drew me in by your side and we watched the gorgeous light fall across the fields and water in front of us. I'd carefully selected an outfit that said outdoorsy but feminine. We held hands, walked for a long time and talked for the first time about our future. Not in concrete terms but in those early dating terms like "what do you see your life looking like in five years from now? 10 years from now?" We both smiled and said things while blushing that foreshadowed our path together and hinted at visions of our today. You felt like home for the first time that night. And you kissed me softly on the forehead. The first of thousands.
What I did not know, some 12-ish years ago, was that our today would be full of heavy uncertainties, and less than romantic walks in and out of the house to gather clothes and toys strewn across the lawn as our children disrobe and play in the heat of our new home in North Carolina. Carefully selected outfits have been replaced with who knows what covered by an apron. Golden fields and ponds of the Hollow have given way to an outdated kitchen and a sink filled with dirty dishes. But I tell you, my dear, when the sun sets through that window, and you come home to us at night, the memories of young love-swept evenings come flooding back. You feel more like home than I could have ever imagined that night at the Hollow. I pause from making dinner, you pull me close in the soft evening light of today and give me a kiss on the forehead. The first of what I hope with all my heart will be thousands upon thousands more.
Remember that night some 12-ish years ago when we were first dating and we went for a walk at the Mansfield Hollow in Connecticut? The sun was setting and you drew me in by your side and we watched the gorgeous light fall across the fields and water in front of us. I'd carefully selected an outfit that said outdoorsy but feminine. We held hands, walked for a long time and talked for the first time about our future. Not in concrete terms but in those early dating terms like "what do you see your life looking like in five years from now? 10 years from now?" We both smiled and said things while blushing that foreshadowed our path together and hinted at visions of our today. You felt like home for the first time that night. And you kissed me softly on the forehead. The first of thousands.
What I did not know, some 12-ish years ago, was that our today would be full of heavy uncertainties, and less than romantic walks in and out of the house to gather clothes and toys strewn across the lawn as our children disrobe and play in the heat of our new home in North Carolina. Carefully selected outfits have been replaced with who knows what covered by an apron. Golden fields and ponds of the Hollow have given way to an outdated kitchen and a sink filled with dirty dishes. But I tell you, my dear, when the sun sets through that window, and you come home to us at night, the memories of young love-swept evenings come flooding back. You feel more like home than I could have ever imagined that night at the Hollow. I pause from making dinner, you pull me close in the soft evening light of today and give me a kiss on the forehead. The first of what I hope with all my heart will be thousands upon thousands more.
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February 2018
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"Every Color of the Rainbow" by Andrea Carson
You barely have any hair, yet you tell me you are way over due for a haircut. We both know it’s only because you love that you get a free manicure, lollipop and balloon at this salon. Every time we go you show me your feminine side is bright. What girl wouldn’t request every color of the rainbow? Your heart still rides unicorns! May I wish it will forever.
You barely have any hair, yet you tell me you are way over due for a haircut. We both know it’s only because you love that you get a free manicure, lollipop and balloon at this salon. Every time we go you show me your feminine side is bright. What girl wouldn’t request every color of the rainbow? Your heart still rides unicorns! May I wish it will forever.
"Greetings" by Debbie Deonier
Every morning when daddy takes ‘A’ to school we stand at the door and wave goodbye. This morning ‘E’ rode with them and you were so excited when she got home you had to greet her at the door.
Every morning when daddy takes ‘A’ to school we stand at the door and wave goodbye. This morning ‘E’ rode with them and you were so excited when she got home you had to greet her at the door.
"Your thoughtful heart" by Erika Kao
You’re so like I was at this age. But still, you’re your own beautiful, tender, at times fierce self.
You love company when you’re playing, but when you’re working on something, when you’re making one of your “books” or one of your notes, you like your time and you like your privacy until you’ve completed it.
This tells me that even at age 6, you’re a thoughtful person, and you have a thoughtful, kind heart with a brave soul.
I pray this stays the case, love, because, now more than ever, our world needs thoughtful, kind hearts and brave souls.
You’re so like I was at this age. But still, you’re your own beautiful, tender, at times fierce self.
You love company when you’re playing, but when you’re working on something, when you’re making one of your “books” or one of your notes, you like your time and you like your privacy until you’ve completed it.
This tells me that even at age 6, you’re a thoughtful person, and you have a thoughtful, kind heart with a brave soul.
I pray this stays the case, love, because, now more than ever, our world needs thoughtful, kind hearts and brave souls.
"Work of the Heart" by Rachel Wheeler
You guys wanted to do homemade scratch off Valentine's Day cards. Honestly I didn't really want to do it. It takes a lot of work to make those. But we did the work. You did yours...you wrote your name and drew a heart. Sister did special messages for all her classmates. Then I did mine (for hours and hours.) Because I love you.
You guys wanted to do homemade scratch off Valentine's Day cards. Honestly I didn't really want to do it. It takes a lot of work to make those. But we did the work. You did yours...you wrote your name and drew a heart. Sister did special messages for all her classmates. Then I did mine (for hours and hours.) Because I love you.
"Snack Booth" by Kellie Pribbernow
These stairs have been a surprise blessing. Our new home has so much more space, but what I hadn't anticipated were all of the little extra spaces in between. Where I saw simply a way to get to the second floor, you littles have seen a couch, a bed, a dining table, a desk, a reading nook, a block-tower platform, a slinky path, a mountain, castle gates, and so many other things I'm sure I'll never even get to glimpse. I come across different items on these steps nearly every time I pass. My favorite, though, is that you all have taken to eating your graham crackers there. I'm not exactly sure why, but it has become the snack booth. I will accept the constant crumbs as my ticket to gaining insight into new adventures that may take place on these stairs. I hope you keep surprising me with these transformations of our every day into the extraordinary.
These stairs have been a surprise blessing. Our new home has so much more space, but what I hadn't anticipated were all of the little extra spaces in between. Where I saw simply a way to get to the second floor, you littles have seen a couch, a bed, a dining table, a desk, a reading nook, a block-tower platform, a slinky path, a mountain, castle gates, and so many other things I'm sure I'll never even get to glimpse. I come across different items on these steps nearly every time I pass. My favorite, though, is that you all have taken to eating your graham crackers there. I'm not exactly sure why, but it has become the snack booth. I will accept the constant crumbs as my ticket to gaining insight into new adventures that may take place on these stairs. I hope you keep surprising me with these transformations of our every day into the extraordinary.
“interlude” by Megan Millsop
these are the moments we are made of as parents, when your little bodies fit snuggled perfectly into the spaces that surround us, when we ourselves can finally relax. you join the casual coziness holding onto an irreplaceable thing that has, since infancy, brought you great joy, comfort, a friend, a plaything. you notice nothing else other than what is in front of you and it suits us just fine, because that calm still has an energy, a replenishing rather. not taken but shared, given freely without conscious effort. the sweetness it brings is just enough to restore a spot in our hearts that weighs heavy from what our adult world takes away. this is a break in the clouds, and beautiful peace is what follows.
these are the moments we are made of as parents, when your little bodies fit snuggled perfectly into the spaces that surround us, when we ourselves can finally relax. you join the casual coziness holding onto an irreplaceable thing that has, since infancy, brought you great joy, comfort, a friend, a plaything. you notice nothing else other than what is in front of you and it suits us just fine, because that calm still has an energy, a replenishing rather. not taken but shared, given freely without conscious effort. the sweetness it brings is just enough to restore a spot in our hearts that weighs heavy from what our adult world takes away. this is a break in the clouds, and beautiful peace is what follows.
"keep at home" by Heather Robinson
you started down the path to reading this year in kindergarten. i had mixed feelings about this. i know what i am “supposed” to feel. the same feeling that most parents feel when their child reaches some big milestone. pride. but because i know that you were not filled with mixed feelings but instead very definite ones, i hesitated to show my response. i smiled as we went through the “keep at home” pocket of your blue folder. i am not so sure that you wanted me to be proud of you but instead that you wanted me to know what you spent your time on while we were apart all these hours of the day. no, i don’t think pride had anything to do with it. you just wanted to reconnect to me. to help me to better understand such a big part of you. to show me which way the teachers and specialists were working so hard to lead you whether you wanted to go or not. you didn’t have room to be proud of your efforts to read and write because you were filled to the brim with shame. with frustration and with dread. i see this even if no one else does. perhaps they see these characteristics, this hesitancy from all the time spent working with kids. it is probably considered as “normal”. but i see it as a problem. i see it as an infringement on your rights. i know. i know. you are only six. what rights do you have?
the world might not see you as worthy of being respected, worthy of being listened to, worthy of making your own decisions. i know you are being raced down a track and always coming in last place doesn’t feel good. it could break your beautiful, growing spirit if you let it, if i let it. but as your mama, i am the most qualified teacher you will ever find. it is my job to be a specialist for each and every one of my children. so, it is time you received the respect you deserve. it is time you were finally listened to. it is time for you to decide when and where you will journey down new paths.
today you went to the library with daddy and you checked out three superhero books. you asked me to read them to you. i know what role i am “supposed” to play when we read books together. i have been instructed how to do this from the experts and the teachers. but today i used my own expertise and i opened the book and pulled you close to my body and read you a story. at one point towards the beginning of the book, i felt your body tense up next to mine. you switched your focus from the page in the book to my face. i looked you in the eyes and saw that familiar look of worry, of shame as you whispered, “mama, please don’t make me say the words this time. can i just sit with you while you read to me like you used to?” of course i listened to you. but honestly my love, you didn’t even have to speak those words that weigh so heavy on your heart. you and i are no longer going to do what we are “supposed” to do but instead exactly what you need. we will take our own time, travel down our own path where we are free to wonder and wander to our heart’s content.
you started down the path to reading this year in kindergarten. i had mixed feelings about this. i know what i am “supposed” to feel. the same feeling that most parents feel when their child reaches some big milestone. pride. but because i know that you were not filled with mixed feelings but instead very definite ones, i hesitated to show my response. i smiled as we went through the “keep at home” pocket of your blue folder. i am not so sure that you wanted me to be proud of you but instead that you wanted me to know what you spent your time on while we were apart all these hours of the day. no, i don’t think pride had anything to do with it. you just wanted to reconnect to me. to help me to better understand such a big part of you. to show me which way the teachers and specialists were working so hard to lead you whether you wanted to go or not. you didn’t have room to be proud of your efforts to read and write because you were filled to the brim with shame. with frustration and with dread. i see this even if no one else does. perhaps they see these characteristics, this hesitancy from all the time spent working with kids. it is probably considered as “normal”. but i see it as a problem. i see it as an infringement on your rights. i know. i know. you are only six. what rights do you have?
the world might not see you as worthy of being respected, worthy of being listened to, worthy of making your own decisions. i know you are being raced down a track and always coming in last place doesn’t feel good. it could break your beautiful, growing spirit if you let it, if i let it. but as your mama, i am the most qualified teacher you will ever find. it is my job to be a specialist for each and every one of my children. so, it is time you received the respect you deserve. it is time you were finally listened to. it is time for you to decide when and where you will journey down new paths.
today you went to the library with daddy and you checked out three superhero books. you asked me to read them to you. i know what role i am “supposed” to play when we read books together. i have been instructed how to do this from the experts and the teachers. but today i used my own expertise and i opened the book and pulled you close to my body and read you a story. at one point towards the beginning of the book, i felt your body tense up next to mine. you switched your focus from the page in the book to my face. i looked you in the eyes and saw that familiar look of worry, of shame as you whispered, “mama, please don’t make me say the words this time. can i just sit with you while you read to me like you used to?” of course i listened to you. but honestly my love, you didn’t even have to speak those words that weigh so heavy on your heart. you and i are no longer going to do what we are “supposed” to do but instead exactly what you need. we will take our own time, travel down our own path where we are free to wonder and wander to our heart’s content.
"A part of you" by Karlie Austin
Dancing has always been your thing. It was how you defined yourself. I’ve witnessed many elaborate interpretive dances over the years. I’m not sure why, but last year you decided you were done. You no longer wanted to dance. You didn’t really have the words to explain why. Maybe you simply needed the time to explore other talents... whatever the reason, little by little dance crept back into your life and you’ve recently requested to join a more formal class. I watched this past week as you bravely shared what you’ve been learning to us parents and I saw a part of who you were and are shine through.
Dancing has always been your thing. It was how you defined yourself. I’ve witnessed many elaborate interpretive dances over the years. I’m not sure why, but last year you decided you were done. You no longer wanted to dance. You didn’t really have the words to explain why. Maybe you simply needed the time to explore other talents... whatever the reason, little by little dance crept back into your life and you’ve recently requested to join a more formal class. I watched this past week as you bravely shared what you’ve been learning to us parents and I saw a part of who you were and are shine through.
“ROCK STARS” by Claudia Alvarez
Today while I was washing the dishes I heard loud singing coming from the living room. I peeked in the room and saw the three of you singing your hearts out and pretending music was coming out of the instruments. You were being ROCK STARS as you girls called yourselves. You girls asked me to sit down. Little sister was trying to keep up with you two... her guitar kept falling... she was working so hard and trying to do what the two of you were doing. I enjoyed listening and watching the three of you give me this special performance.
Today while I was washing the dishes I heard loud singing coming from the living room. I peeked in the room and saw the three of you singing your hearts out and pretending music was coming out of the instruments. You were being ROCK STARS as you girls called yourselves. You girls asked me to sit down. Little sister was trying to keep up with you two... her guitar kept falling... she was working so hard and trying to do what the two of you were doing. I enjoyed listening and watching the three of you give me this special performance.
"weekend mornings" by Snow Cabral
one of my favorite things as a mama is watching you two together. i have countless images of all the shenanigans you two get into, but it’s even in the quiet moments that i see just how close you are. you probably wouldn’t admit that you’re best friends, but anyone could look at your relationship and know it’s there. always nearby even if doing different things, and most often doing the exact same thing at the exact same time! most weekend mornings i find you both watching cartoons on your ipads while bundled up in your robes. i love how you two tend to be mirrors of each other even though you have very opposite personalities in so many other ways.
one of my favorite things as a mama is watching you two together. i have countless images of all the shenanigans you two get into, but it’s even in the quiet moments that i see just how close you are. you probably wouldn’t admit that you’re best friends, but anyone could look at your relationship and know it’s there. always nearby even if doing different things, and most often doing the exact same thing at the exact same time! most weekend mornings i find you both watching cartoons on your ipads while bundled up in your robes. i love how you two tend to be mirrors of each other even though you have very opposite personalities in so many other ways.
“In Sync” by Mandy Benoit
Today we bonded over my new tripod and using my phone as a remote. I love that I'm learning that a way we can connect is through projects and how things work. Something we both love. I feel like the last month or so we have really been struggling to connect, and for at least a few minutes today, we were in sync. I hate that you often see angry & yelling more than lighting up because of how much I love you. This photo means the world to me because I can see what really matters between us. We may not always see eye to eye, but there is so much love. There has always been, is right now, and will always be.
Today we bonded over my new tripod and using my phone as a remote. I love that I'm learning that a way we can connect is through projects and how things work. Something we both love. I feel like the last month or so we have really been struggling to connect, and for at least a few minutes today, we were in sync. I hate that you often see angry & yelling more than lighting up because of how much I love you. This photo means the world to me because I can see what really matters between us. We may not always see eye to eye, but there is so much love. There has always been, is right now, and will always be.
"Smarty Pants" by Jocelyn Miller
“Mom, she’s the smartest girl in the whole world.”
Owen, when you were small, I remember you trying to roll yourself up onto the couch. You were quite the adorable roly-poly, so it was hard to pull yourself onto the furniture. But your determination was (and still is) fierce, and you kept trying until you got up there, super proud of your accomplishment.
Elise, you on the other hand, keep us on our toes. I turned around a few weeks ago and there you were on the couch, acting like it’s exactly where you should be. I stood there dumbfounded, trying to figure out how you got up there. Then I walked around the couch and found the dog bowls on the ground, being used as a step stool. You, my dear, may run the world some day.
“Mom, she’s the smartest girl in the whole world.”
Owen, when you were small, I remember you trying to roll yourself up onto the couch. You were quite the adorable roly-poly, so it was hard to pull yourself onto the furniture. But your determination was (and still is) fierce, and you kept trying until you got up there, super proud of your accomplishment.
Elise, you on the other hand, keep us on our toes. I turned around a few weeks ago and there you were on the couch, acting like it’s exactly where you should be. I stood there dumbfounded, trying to figure out how you got up there. Then I walked around the couch and found the dog bowls on the ground, being used as a step stool. You, my dear, may run the world some day.
"The Beach" by Faye Guilatco
The beach is our happiest place on earth.
I love watching both of you play in the water, jump over the waves, build sand forts and sand castles, make sand cookies and sand cakes, hunt for shells, and imagine all sorts of things while playing. Of all the things that you do at the beach, my most favorite thing is when you sit next to each other while waiting for the waves. This very moment makes me feel your strong bond as sisters and it makes my heart happy knowing you will always be there for each other.
The beach is our happiest place on earth.
I love watching both of you play in the water, jump over the waves, build sand forts and sand castles, make sand cookies and sand cakes, hunt for shells, and imagine all sorts of things while playing. Of all the things that you do at the beach, my most favorite thing is when you sit next to each other while waiting for the waves. This very moment makes me feel your strong bond as sisters and it makes my heart happy knowing you will always be there for each other.
“Patience” by Alison Bents
Oh, Etta. You are doing so, so well. There were noodles and green beans and carrots and chicken and gravy-covered cheerios all over the floor and you waited like such a champ. She baits you, truly. Sees you walking by and grabs whatever's nearest and chucks it down onto the floor, calling out to you. And you're such a good girl, you listen to me and you keep at least a little distance and you wait and wait, whine and wait, the drool pooling beneath you. Sweet old girl - wouldn't have it any other way.
Oh, Etta. You are doing so, so well. There were noodles and green beans and carrots and chicken and gravy-covered cheerios all over the floor and you waited like such a champ. She baits you, truly. Sees you walking by and grabs whatever's nearest and chucks it down onto the floor, calling out to you. And you're such a good girl, you listen to me and you keep at least a little distance and you wait and wait, whine and wait, the drool pooling beneath you. Sweet old girl - wouldn't have it any other way.
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January 2018
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"Hope" by Megan O'Donnell
This is how I see myself. I know that this is not how you see me. You see me amongst the chaos and outrageous noise and you see that I don't know how to handle it. They say that women become wiser and more gracious as they age, that they find a calmness and a liberating joy. But I don't want to wait for this to happen so I am working on small changes to make this happen now. I want to show you the person that I think I am instead of the person I allow myself to be. I want to influence you with a quiet yet joyful kindness and strength. I hope that I can find these things within myself, I hope that I can find them amongst the chaos and the noise. I hope that I will be proud of the way that I have raised you and I hope, in turn, that you will be proud of me.
This is how I see myself. I know that this is not how you see me. You see me amongst the chaos and outrageous noise and you see that I don't know how to handle it. They say that women become wiser and more gracious as they age, that they find a calmness and a liberating joy. But I don't want to wait for this to happen so I am working on small changes to make this happen now. I want to show you the person that I think I am instead of the person I allow myself to be. I want to influence you with a quiet yet joyful kindness and strength. I hope that I can find these things within myself, I hope that I can find them amongst the chaos and the noise. I hope that I will be proud of the way that I have raised you and I hope, in turn, that you will be proud of me.
"Growing" by Stephanie Bieniarz
Your caution has grown with your age. You were repeatedly asking to climb, but once you got to the entrance you stalled, cried, and needed constant reassurance you would not fall or be left behind. Your sister and cousins led the way, and your brothers coaxed you through the maze. You each have a place in this brood. But it is wonderful to watch as you grow and take on new roles, that you are increasingly working together. Though we are working towards independence for each of you someday, I hope you never lose a sense of place in our family and a desire to work as a team with your siblings.
Your caution has grown with your age. You were repeatedly asking to climb, but once you got to the entrance you stalled, cried, and needed constant reassurance you would not fall or be left behind. Your sister and cousins led the way, and your brothers coaxed you through the maze. You each have a place in this brood. But it is wonderful to watch as you grow and take on new roles, that you are increasingly working together. Though we are working towards independence for each of you someday, I hope you never lose a sense of place in our family and a desire to work as a team with your siblings.
"January" by Kendra Knaggs
This time of year is the hardest for us. Minus15. A foot of snow. Wind chill. No car during the day. The reality of our rural life. I try hard not to wish the days away knowing exactly what that really means but I wish for sun. And warmth. And spring. But for now the grey days flow into one another and we try to get outside, even if only for a minute or two, and breathe the cold air.
This time of year is the hardest for us. Minus15. A foot of snow. Wind chill. No car during the day. The reality of our rural life. I try hard not to wish the days away knowing exactly what that really means but I wish for sun. And warmth. And spring. But for now the grey days flow into one another and we try to get outside, even if only for a minute or two, and breathe the cold air.
"Parallel Lines" by Heather Robinson
i hold my breath as i watch you tiptoe around the other as if to avoid stepping on a landmine. i don’t know the exact cause of your volatility. i thought at first maybe it was the years between you that caused this gap to form. four years isn’t that big of a difference in age though. i am four years older than my sister. and we were quite close growing up. perhaps it is not about differences but instead similarities. she is constantly being compared to you. for a period of time, you saw her as a threat, as a replacement. i have done my best to dispel such myths. yet, you still compete. you compete for my attention, for your daddy’s attention. you each try to win your brother’s attention. not just the one, but both brothers' attention. so i wait. and i continue to hold my breath. i wait for a moment when you will finally stop dodging each other but instead walk sure-footedly to seek out your sister’s attention.
i hold my breath as i watch you tiptoe around the other as if to avoid stepping on a landmine. i don’t know the exact cause of your volatility. i thought at first maybe it was the years between you that caused this gap to form. four years isn’t that big of a difference in age though. i am four years older than my sister. and we were quite close growing up. perhaps it is not about differences but instead similarities. she is constantly being compared to you. for a period of time, you saw her as a threat, as a replacement. i have done my best to dispel such myths. yet, you still compete. you compete for my attention, for your daddy’s attention. you each try to win your brother’s attention. not just the one, but both brothers' attention. so i wait. and i continue to hold my breath. i wait for a moment when you will finally stop dodging each other but instead walk sure-footedly to seek out your sister’s attention.
"Devotion" by Megan Millsop
Your father is a remarkable man. He is gentle, kind, passionate, wise. He will give strength if your own should fail you. He will protect if your walls should break down. His will be the voice of reason. He will never be far should you ever feel lonely. He will provide you nourishment that helps you both thrive and learn. This undeniable love is unending, unfailing, unassuming. It’s there with you wherever you may go, while you’re sleeping and each day you grow. Take care to savor these gifts. They are special and pure. As is the man who bestows them.
Your father is a remarkable man. He is gentle, kind, passionate, wise. He will give strength if your own should fail you. He will protect if your walls should break down. His will be the voice of reason. He will never be far should you ever feel lonely. He will provide you nourishment that helps you both thrive and learn. This undeniable love is unending, unfailing, unassuming. It’s there with you wherever you may go, while you’re sleeping and each day you grow. Take care to savor these gifts. They are special and pure. As is the man who bestows them.
"What if..." by Rachel Wheeler
What if...
the mess marked a day well lived;
greasy fingerprints wrote love notes;
dirty dishes fed hungry tummies;
sleepless nights created extra time together;
tantrums softened hearts;
clashing voices sang out the harmony of our life's chorus;
momentary sadness built lasting joy;
everyday life was art.
What if...
the mess marked a day well lived;
greasy fingerprints wrote love notes;
dirty dishes fed hungry tummies;
sleepless nights created extra time together;
tantrums softened hearts;
clashing voices sang out the harmony of our life's chorus;
momentary sadness built lasting joy;
everyday life was art.
"I’m lost." by Mandy Benoit
I feel worn out. Depleted. Exhausted. Devoid of inspiration. I am ruled by my head above my heart. Unless anger & frustration count. My work feels so boring & unappealing. If I take another shot of them watching YouTube together.... if I am asked to do one more thing that they themselves are capable of doing... if I have to hear one more "watch me" ... this is the flip side of my gratitude seeking... moment relishing... personality... it's the yang to my yin that I'm not proud of, the deep breath that I hopefully take before saying something hateful ... when all she wanted was me to put on a movie for her... it's the part of me that needs to find rest & inspiration or I will swallowed whole by the level of mundane... that I usually see beauty in. ... . But just have nothing left to give right now. It's these low points that it usually takes to open my eyes to my blessings.... but I'm just not there yet.
I feel worn out. Depleted. Exhausted. Devoid of inspiration. I am ruled by my head above my heart. Unless anger & frustration count. My work feels so boring & unappealing. If I take another shot of them watching YouTube together.... if I am asked to do one more thing that they themselves are capable of doing... if I have to hear one more "watch me" ... this is the flip side of my gratitude seeking... moment relishing... personality... it's the yang to my yin that I'm not proud of, the deep breath that I hopefully take before saying something hateful ... when all she wanted was me to put on a movie for her... it's the part of me that needs to find rest & inspiration or I will swallowed whole by the level of mundane... that I usually see beauty in. ... . But just have nothing left to give right now. It's these low points that it usually takes to open my eyes to my blessings.... but I'm just not there yet.
"Take a Break" by Abigail Fahey
You’ve given me cause for worry on more than one occasion over the last few weeks. Breaking your arm just after Christmas was no help. Watching you in pain is hard for me. Knowing I can’t take it away and ease your discomfort when I’m the one you look to destroys me. I see your frustration and I know how disappointed you are not to be able to join in with your friends in the sports you love so much. I also know that when things like this happen you get to learn a good lesson. As hard as this is you are learning patience and resilience, you have shown maturity and have tried to make the best of the situation, you are over coming and growing as a person and for that I am intensely proud of you.
You’ve given me cause for worry on more than one occasion over the last few weeks. Breaking your arm just after Christmas was no help. Watching you in pain is hard for me. Knowing I can’t take it away and ease your discomfort when I’m the one you look to destroys me. I see your frustration and I know how disappointed you are not to be able to join in with your friends in the sports you love so much. I also know that when things like this happen you get to learn a good lesson. As hard as this is you are learning patience and resilience, you have shown maturity and have tried to make the best of the situation, you are over coming and growing as a person and for that I am intensely proud of you.
"Between Acts" by Mariah Evans
When I was in my early twenties, I wanted to be at the end. The end of my story. I was overwhelmed. Afraid. Terrified, even. I didn’t see this exciting chapter as an adventure full of potential. I saw it as a field of landmines. No road signs. Barbed wire. One wrong misstep and I would blow my whole life. I just wanted to be past all of the choices. I wanted to look at all of those decisions through my rear view mirror. Serenely. With wisdom and peace. I wanted the big decisions to already be made, magically decided with magic zero effort pixie dust, and fine outcomes. Not perfect, mind you. I’ve always know that life isn’t perfect. But I wanted to skip the mess and go straight on to the aged wisdom. Twenty years later. I didn’t get pixie dust. Instead I made choices. Hard ones. Easy ones. Some of them made themselves, for better or worse. There are still huge decisions now that I’m forty and no longer twenty. There are still no real road signs. Or, too many road signs, depending on how you look at it. I’m still the same me. Still stumbling. Still occasionally getting tangled in the barbed wire. If anything, now the stakes are even higher, because I am no longer the only player. But i’m no longer terrified of my own life. I know that there are great works ahead of me. The stage is set, the lights are dimming. I am in a constant state of butterflies in my stomach, yes. Butterflies. Excitement. Sometimes the nervous giggles, even. And I let myself feel it. The uncertainty and the wild spontaneity of a life lived. In the moment. This moment. This spark of joy. Now. Big moments on the stage are coming... Yes. They’re coming. But I am learning that the little moments
between the big scenes bring their own kind of joy. Their own unique sweetness. These are the moments that I want to sink into with my whole heart. Soak them up through my skin. Breathe them into my lungs with full, great, slow breaths. Stay there with those moments until they are part of me, never to leave. The quiet, in-between joys of an ordinary life.
When I was in my early twenties, I wanted to be at the end. The end of my story. I was overwhelmed. Afraid. Terrified, even. I didn’t see this exciting chapter as an adventure full of potential. I saw it as a field of landmines. No road signs. Barbed wire. One wrong misstep and I would blow my whole life. I just wanted to be past all of the choices. I wanted to look at all of those decisions through my rear view mirror. Serenely. With wisdom and peace. I wanted the big decisions to already be made, magically decided with magic zero effort pixie dust, and fine outcomes. Not perfect, mind you. I’ve always know that life isn’t perfect. But I wanted to skip the mess and go straight on to the aged wisdom. Twenty years later. I didn’t get pixie dust. Instead I made choices. Hard ones. Easy ones. Some of them made themselves, for better or worse. There are still huge decisions now that I’m forty and no longer twenty. There are still no real road signs. Or, too many road signs, depending on how you look at it. I’m still the same me. Still stumbling. Still occasionally getting tangled in the barbed wire. If anything, now the stakes are even higher, because I am no longer the only player. But i’m no longer terrified of my own life. I know that there are great works ahead of me. The stage is set, the lights are dimming. I am in a constant state of butterflies in my stomach, yes. Butterflies. Excitement. Sometimes the nervous giggles, even. And I let myself feel it. The uncertainty and the wild spontaneity of a life lived. In the moment. This moment. This spark of joy. Now. Big moments on the stage are coming... Yes. They’re coming. But I am learning that the little moments
between the big scenes bring their own kind of joy. Their own unique sweetness. These are the moments that I want to sink into with my whole heart. Soak them up through my skin. Breathe them into my lungs with full, great, slow breaths. Stay there with those moments until they are part of me, never to leave. The quiet, in-between joys of an ordinary life.
“Florence” by Katie McMenamin
Florence, your great-grandmother would have loved you. You have her name, but you also have her spirit and her very particular sense of style. When she moved to Florida when I was 10 years old, we'd spend every Summer with her. As Fall approached, we'd go back to school shopping and she'd pick out the most unique, eye-catching outfits for me to try on, because "you never know if you'll like it until you try it on." As I got older, I would have preferred clothes that helped me to blend in, but Gram always wanted me to stand out, just like you.
Today you knew that we were having company and you said that you were going to pick out an outfit that was "just perfect." I heard you upstairs opening every drawer, trying on different pieces and working hard to put together this ensemble. And I think it is just perfect. I hope you never lose this. I hope the hurtful words of others never make you question your sense of style and want to blend in. Because I can't help but imagine your great-grandmother Florence watching over you, her eyes smiling under heavily made up purple and blue lids, at the spunky great-granddaughter who she never got to meet, but who somehow has a little piece of her spirit anyway.
Florence, your great-grandmother would have loved you. You have her name, but you also have her spirit and her very particular sense of style. When she moved to Florida when I was 10 years old, we'd spend every Summer with her. As Fall approached, we'd go back to school shopping and she'd pick out the most unique, eye-catching outfits for me to try on, because "you never know if you'll like it until you try it on." As I got older, I would have preferred clothes that helped me to blend in, but Gram always wanted me to stand out, just like you.
Today you knew that we were having company and you said that you were going to pick out an outfit that was "just perfect." I heard you upstairs opening every drawer, trying on different pieces and working hard to put together this ensemble. And I think it is just perfect. I hope you never lose this. I hope the hurtful words of others never make you question your sense of style and want to blend in. Because I can't help but imagine your great-grandmother Florence watching over you, her eyes smiling under heavily made up purple and blue lids, at the spunky great-granddaughter who she never got to meet, but who somehow has a little piece of her spirit anyway.
"Chapter by Chapter" by Karlie Austin
You received the first three Princess in Black books for Christmas from your Nana, you had fallen in love with the series when we borrowed one this past summer from the library. You immediately set the goal to read the book yourself, and although you struggled a bit and stumbled on some words you persevered. We’ve been working away, chapter by chapter since Boxing Day and today you reached the end. So proud of you.
You received the first three Princess in Black books for Christmas from your Nana, you had fallen in love with the series when we borrowed one this past summer from the library. You immediately set the goal to read the book yourself, and although you struggled a bit and stumbled on some words you persevered. We’ve been working away, chapter by chapter since Boxing Day and today you reached the end. So proud of you.
"Sisters" by Donna Taliercio
Sometimes I think the greatest gift I will have ever given you is each other. You’ll have a shared history, and neither of you will ever be lonely. You are already partners in crime, adventure buddies. On some days, you are allies conspiring against a common enemy, and on others, you call each other out on wrongs and fight like cats and dogs. Your similarities are as enchanting as your differences, and not many other people will ever in your life time know you like your sister does. As your mother, I can only hope you stay this close forever.
Sometimes I think the greatest gift I will have ever given you is each other. You’ll have a shared history, and neither of you will ever be lonely. You are already partners in crime, adventure buddies. On some days, you are allies conspiring against a common enemy, and on others, you call each other out on wrongs and fight like cats and dogs. Your similarities are as enchanting as your differences, and not many other people will ever in your life time know you like your sister does. As your mother, I can only hope you stay this close forever.
“Love” by Faye Guilatco
I hold your hand(s) to guide you, to keep you safe, to make you feel how much I care about you and how much I love you. I know deep in my heart that you will do the same when your mommy's old and grey, when my legs and feet are not as strong anymore. I know because as early as now, you help me with my chores, you give me a massage when Iʼm tired, you tell me you understand when I get mad, you make me laugh, you entertain me with your stories, you make me feel so loved. I hope you feel the love I have for you too. I want to make sure you do. I will find more ways to make you feel it too.
I hold your hand(s) to guide you, to keep you safe, to make you feel how much I care about you and how much I love you. I know deep in my heart that you will do the same when your mommy's old and grey, when my legs and feet are not as strong anymore. I know because as early as now, you help me with my chores, you give me a massage when Iʼm tired, you tell me you understand when I get mad, you make me laugh, you entertain me with your stories, you make me feel so loved. I hope you feel the love I have for you too. I want to make sure you do. I will find more ways to make you feel it too.
"Less Stress more Silliness" by Jennie Bennett
I wanted so badly to get a "calm" picture of us. I had ideas that we would all sit calmly gazing into each other’s eyes with love. Ha, this is what transpired. In reality motherhood with the three of you is sometimes blurry, often busy and full of fun and energy. Rare are our quiet moments, and mom gets angry or upset that everyone’s having fun and not doing what I ask, but this is childhood at its finest; play time and silliness.
I'm trying to embrace more of that this year, so I hope you'll have patience with me.
I wanted so badly to get a "calm" picture of us. I had ideas that we would all sit calmly gazing into each other’s eyes with love. Ha, this is what transpired. In reality motherhood with the three of you is sometimes blurry, often busy and full of fun and energy. Rare are our quiet moments, and mom gets angry or upset that everyone’s having fun and not doing what I ask, but this is childhood at its finest; play time and silliness.
I'm trying to embrace more of that this year, so I hope you'll have patience with me.
"How you love" by Erika Kao
Dad said he felt like egg salad one day, so I hard-boiled some eggs. When they were ready, I placed the pot in the sink and ran cold water over the eggs. I was about to start cracking the shells to remove them when you two clamored up and begged me to help.
How could I say no to two sets of helping hands?
This image will always remind me of your little hearts, which, despite their size, are capable of great, amazing love.
Dad said he felt like egg salad one day, so I hard-boiled some eggs. When they were ready, I placed the pot in the sink and ran cold water over the eggs. I was about to start cracking the shells to remove them when you two clamored up and begged me to help.
How could I say no to two sets of helping hands?
This image will always remind me of your little hearts, which, despite their size, are capable of great, amazing love.
"Packing and Unpacking" by Adrianne Picicci
These photos were from our last few hours in our house after it sold. They were difficult hours for all of us. Daddy had to leave for work and Mama was still trying to get everything in the car or unscrewed from the wall. There was nothing to play with except a box of tools, a pumpkin bucket and Matteo's bubblegum machine costume. There was boredom. There were tears. I think there was excitement, too. Running around an empty house isn't something you get to do every day. I hadn't seen it empty like this since our first few hours there, when Daddy carried me through the door almost ten years ago. I remember the excitement of the promises that those walls held for us. The two of you were just dreams then, of course, the hope to fill our new home with a family in the future. Seeing the house empty was much different than that first time. The walls and floors were empty of our things now, but still full of the memories we made there. Little feet learning to walk, voices learning to talk, hugs and kisses, goodnight stories, bubble baths, messes (oh so many messes!), clothes outgrown, ideas learned and shared, plenty of tears shed, both happy and sad. This is the place where we first learned to be a family. Luckily, like all the things that you both helped pack away in so many boxes, we can take these memories with us, even if we have to leave the walls and floors that supported them behind. We can unpack those memories from our hearts anytime we like.
These photos were from our last few hours in our house after it sold. They were difficult hours for all of us. Daddy had to leave for work and Mama was still trying to get everything in the car or unscrewed from the wall. There was nothing to play with except a box of tools, a pumpkin bucket and Matteo's bubblegum machine costume. There was boredom. There were tears. I think there was excitement, too. Running around an empty house isn't something you get to do every day. I hadn't seen it empty like this since our first few hours there, when Daddy carried me through the door almost ten years ago. I remember the excitement of the promises that those walls held for us. The two of you were just dreams then, of course, the hope to fill our new home with a family in the future. Seeing the house empty was much different than that first time. The walls and floors were empty of our things now, but still full of the memories we made there. Little feet learning to walk, voices learning to talk, hugs and kisses, goodnight stories, bubble baths, messes (oh so many messes!), clothes outgrown, ideas learned and shared, plenty of tears shed, both happy and sad. This is the place where we first learned to be a family. Luckily, like all the things that you both helped pack away in so many boxes, we can take these memories with us, even if we have to leave the walls and floors that supported them behind. We can unpack those memories from our hearts anytime we like.
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December 2017
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"Auld Lang Syne" by Rachel Wheeler
It was six years ago when I gifted you this opportunity of nighttime nurturing, though it didn’t feel like much of a gift at the time, I know. Those were long sleepless nights for us both. Had I not been pregnant with our sweet boy and too sick to tend to our wakeful girl, I don’t think I could have shared the responsibility, despite the exhaustion. Even with you.
So much of my mothering took place in caring for her at night and thus so much of my identity wrestled its way to the surface in that tiny bedroom. It took me aback, the loss that I felt at the time. The space I’d left by her side was filled by you. A different being with a different approach. It was so hard to let you figure her out. But again, I was too sick to intervene, which was a blessing in hindsight. For had I not done so, there never would have been this closeness for you. Over the years, that loss has been filled to overflowing with gratitude. Gratitude not only for the relationship the two of you have, and hopefully always will have, but gratitude for the trust and faith it takes to partner with someone. These years have flown by and sharing the responsibility of parenting is the greatest gift I have ever known. Especially with you.
For auld lang syne, my dear.
For auld lang syne,
We’ll raise them up and ne’er forget
These auld land syne.
It was six years ago when I gifted you this opportunity of nighttime nurturing, though it didn’t feel like much of a gift at the time, I know. Those were long sleepless nights for us both. Had I not been pregnant with our sweet boy and too sick to tend to our wakeful girl, I don’t think I could have shared the responsibility, despite the exhaustion. Even with you.
So much of my mothering took place in caring for her at night and thus so much of my identity wrestled its way to the surface in that tiny bedroom. It took me aback, the loss that I felt at the time. The space I’d left by her side was filled by you. A different being with a different approach. It was so hard to let you figure her out. But again, I was too sick to intervene, which was a blessing in hindsight. For had I not done so, there never would have been this closeness for you. Over the years, that loss has been filled to overflowing with gratitude. Gratitude not only for the relationship the two of you have, and hopefully always will have, but gratitude for the trust and faith it takes to partner with someone. These years have flown by and sharing the responsibility of parenting is the greatest gift I have ever known. Especially with you.
For auld lang syne, my dear.
For auld lang syne,
We’ll raise them up and ne’er forget
These auld land syne.
"Bath Conversation – October 2017. Winter Sunrise – December 2017" by Kendra Knaggs
You: Mommy, are you breakable?
Me: Yes. We are all breakable. Our bones. Our bodies.
You: Why?
Me: That’s just the way humans are built.
You kind of just sit there and enjoy the warmth of the bath water. You are very tired.
You: Mommy, are you going to die?
Me: Yes. But not for a long time.
Your huge round eyes start to well up.
You: I don’t want you to die.
Me: I know. But everyone who is born will die. It won’t happen for a long long time. And in the meantime we will spend as much wonderful time together as we can. We will go on great adventures and have birthday cake and read so many books.
You: Will I die?
Me: Yes, but not for a long long time. You will live a full life until you are very old.
You: Old people die.
Me: Yes. People die when they are old.
You: You are not old Mommy.
Me: No, I’m not old.
Your face relaxes. You smile and go back to enjoying the warm water. I relax and watch you. I try to be honest with you in a gentle way. I hope that is both what you need and what eases your heart.
You: Mommy, are you breakable?
Me: Yes. We are all breakable. Our bones. Our bodies.
You: Why?
Me: That’s just the way humans are built.
You kind of just sit there and enjoy the warmth of the bath water. You are very tired.
You: Mommy, are you going to die?
Me: Yes. But not for a long time.
Your huge round eyes start to well up.
You: I don’t want you to die.
Me: I know. But everyone who is born will die. It won’t happen for a long long time. And in the meantime we will spend as much wonderful time together as we can. We will go on great adventures and have birthday cake and read so many books.
You: Will I die?
Me: Yes, but not for a long long time. You will live a full life until you are very old.
You: Old people die.
Me: Yes. People die when they are old.
You: You are not old Mommy.
Me: No, I’m not old.
Your face relaxes. You smile and go back to enjoying the warm water. I relax and watch you. I try to be honest with you in a gentle way. I hope that is both what you need and what eases your heart.
"How you love" by Erika Kao
I love that you girls are developing a genuine friendship and a deep love for one another. I love that you won't go to sleep without hugs and kisses goodnight and I love that the first person you inquire about in the morning is each other. I love that you share your toys and your snacks and your time with one another. And I appreciate those daily moments when frustration and anger and sadness happen, because those moments give you both an opportunity to learn how truly powerful your words and deeds are and how they can affect others. It's those moments that give me hope that one day, we're going to release kind, strong, and compassionate humans into the world.
I love that you girls are developing a genuine friendship and a deep love for one another. I love that you won't go to sleep without hugs and kisses goodnight and I love that the first person you inquire about in the morning is each other. I love that you share your toys and your snacks and your time with one another. And I appreciate those daily moments when frustration and anger and sadness happen, because those moments give you both an opportunity to learn how truly powerful your words and deeds are and how they can affect others. It's those moments that give me hope that one day, we're going to release kind, strong, and compassionate humans into the world.
"Copy Cat" by Debbie Deonier
You like to mimic everything you see, so I wasn’t surprised to see you sitting on top of this shelf blending in with your stuffed animals.
You like to mimic everything you see, so I wasn’t surprised to see you sitting on top of this shelf blending in with your stuffed animals.
"christmas morning hot cocoa" by Snow Cabral
you were so insistent.. “mama we are going to make hot cocoa in the morning before we open presents, right?” of course! i told you again just like the first 2 times you asked. i thought for sure you’d get excited by your stocking and all the wrapped presents waiting for you under the tree and forget all about your request the night before.
nope, you were just as excited about your hot cocoa when you woke up as anything else. it was so sweet to watch you truly embracing the meaning of the season, spending time with loved ones and enjoying sweet treats together. i may or may not have been extra grateful for the time to sip my own cup of hot coffee before the chaos of unwrapping began too. i am looking forward to many little moments of pure enjoyment and connecting over hot beverages for years to come.
you were so insistent.. “mama we are going to make hot cocoa in the morning before we open presents, right?” of course! i told you again just like the first 2 times you asked. i thought for sure you’d get excited by your stocking and all the wrapped presents waiting for you under the tree and forget all about your request the night before.
nope, you were just as excited about your hot cocoa when you woke up as anything else. it was so sweet to watch you truly embracing the meaning of the season, spending time with loved ones and enjoying sweet treats together. i may or may not have been extra grateful for the time to sip my own cup of hot coffee before the chaos of unwrapping began too. i am looking forward to many little moments of pure enjoyment and connecting over hot beverages for years to come.
"Persistence" by Megan O'Donnell
When you’re this small there is nothing you can do to bring down your prey.
When you’re this small there is nothing you can do to bring down your prey.
"Lights" by Faye Guilatco
Your dad was the one in charge of hanging Christmas lights in front of our house. This year, he had this “bright” idea to hang curtain lights in our patio which looked magical at night. He also put fairy lights around the Christmas wreath above our fireplace, and on our centerpiece. I loved how your dad would always go an extra
mile in everything he did for us.
Your dad was the one in charge of hanging Christmas lights in front of our house. This year, he had this “bright” idea to hang curtain lights in our patio which looked magical at night. He also put fairy lights around the Christmas wreath above our fireplace, and on our centerpiece. I loved how your dad would always go an extra
mile in everything he did for us.
"fragile" by Heather Robinson
i am not sure why i fail to remember things from only a couple of years ago. but i had forgotten about the “all the ornaments on the top of the tree” holiday decorating. you joyously reminded me of this special occasion though.
i am not sure why i fail to remember things from only a couple of years ago. but i had forgotten about the “all the ornaments on the top of the tree” holiday decorating. you joyously reminded me of this special occasion though.
"Alongside yours" by Karlie Austin
Our family tree is a lot like mine was growing up. Each misfit ornament tells a story about who we are, and where we’ve come from. One day, like I did, you will take your collection of ornaments with you and grow it in a new home with a family of your own, but for now my childhood memories will hang alongside yours.
Our family tree is a lot like mine was growing up. Each misfit ornament tells a story about who we are, and where we’ve come from. One day, like I did, you will take your collection of ornaments with you and grow it in a new home with a family of your own, but for now my childhood memories will hang alongside yours.
"Reflection" by Adrianne Picicci
The end of the year is a time of reflection, so I have been thinking a lot about all that has happened since we said goodnight to 2016 a year ago. Brother started school and you started wanting to go to school. You learned how to say “snuggle” and “I love you” and “watch me, Mama.” You also learned how to say “I don’t like it” and “I don’t want to wear that one” and to scream like a banshee. You learned how to move furniture and to help yourself to that bag of marshmallows hidden on the top shelf of the tallest cabinet. You figured out how to sit on the counter and turn the water on just to leave it running indefinitely. You started to have real opinions, both big and small, and real emotions, also big and small. We said goodbye to our first home. The one where you and brother were born, where you learned to eat and laugh and run. We timidly said hello to a new home, one where you will learn to ride a bike and play dress up and sing more than the same few words of your favorite songs. You have changed more than I could have thought possible this year. We all have. As I relive the individual moments that made up the past 365 days, I am aware that they are distinct in my memory, but that they also reflect a larger picture. These moments tell the story of your childhood. And they tell the story of our family. These are our ups and downs, our joys and sorrows, the beauty and chaos of us. When I observe them at too close a distance, I start to pick them apart, to worry about what you might have missed out on, what we could have done differently, how our laundry wasn’t always folded and our bathroom mirrors weren’t always clean. But when I step back and view these moments from a distance, I see that there is a polish of love across the surface of every memory we made in 2017. That love makes everything shine.
The end of the year is a time of reflection, so I have been thinking a lot about all that has happened since we said goodnight to 2016 a year ago. Brother started school and you started wanting to go to school. You learned how to say “snuggle” and “I love you” and “watch me, Mama.” You also learned how to say “I don’t like it” and “I don’t want to wear that one” and to scream like a banshee. You learned how to move furniture and to help yourself to that bag of marshmallows hidden on the top shelf of the tallest cabinet. You figured out how to sit on the counter and turn the water on just to leave it running indefinitely. You started to have real opinions, both big and small, and real emotions, also big and small. We said goodbye to our first home. The one where you and brother were born, where you learned to eat and laugh and run. We timidly said hello to a new home, one where you will learn to ride a bike and play dress up and sing more than the same few words of your favorite songs. You have changed more than I could have thought possible this year. We all have. As I relive the individual moments that made up the past 365 days, I am aware that they are distinct in my memory, but that they also reflect a larger picture. These moments tell the story of your childhood. And they tell the story of our family. These are our ups and downs, our joys and sorrows, the beauty and chaos of us. When I observe them at too close a distance, I start to pick them apart, to worry about what you might have missed out on, what we could have done differently, how our laundry wasn’t always folded and our bathroom mirrors weren’t always clean. But when I step back and view these moments from a distance, I see that there is a polish of love across the surface of every memory we made in 2017. That love makes everything shine.
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November 2017
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This month's post is a special one. It is a celebration of motherhood. This month we challenged ourselves. We stepped out of our comfort zones. We proved to ourselves and others that we can be more. We can be not only the authors of our family stories but also one of the main characters. Many of the images shared this month were created during a weeklong alumni self-portrait project called #aweekofmama.
"Phantom"
by Kristy Harrison
I appear in birthday pictures, but I’m not just there on birthdays. I’m there for doctor appointments, gymnastics class, swim lessons, school runs, your classmates’ parties, the dentist, and all the million appointments that make up our daily lives.
by Kristy Harrison
I appear in birthday pictures, but I’m not just there on birthdays. I’m there for doctor appointments, gymnastics class, swim lessons, school runs, your classmates’ parties, the dentist, and all the million appointments that make up our daily lives.
"I’m empty and aching, and I don’t know why."
by Mariah Evans
Kathy, Im lost. I said, though I knew you were sleeping. I’m empty and aching, and I don’t know why.
Sometimes this Simon and Garfunkel line goes through my mind, over and over again. It moves me, these few simple, raw words. Last night, they were swimming through my mind as the boys and I were getting ready for bed. I kissed my babes all goodnight, after wiggling Harry’s tooth a dozen times. He was sure it was ready to come out, I was sure it was not. I kissed them all, said prayers. Then I came downstairs and listened to Simon and Garfunkel in the quiet, semi dark. Chris was out of town, and it was just me. The song, “America” turns my heart inside out. I don’t know why… It stirs the marrow of my bones. Makes my heart ache and bleed out of me.
Kathy, Im lost. I said, though I knew you were sleeping. I’m empty and aching, and I don’t know why.
I never really thought about it much before, but it may be that I really relate the duality of the lyrics. Here he is, going along, enjoying his life. Loving his adventure. But, also. When it’s quiet, and it’s safe, and no one can really hear… He can admit the other truth. The simultaneous truth.
Kathy, Im lost. I said, though I knew you were sleeping. I’m empty and aching, and I don’t know why.
Harry came down the stairs, grinning. Blood on his fingers. Proudly holding his square white tooth in his hand. I looked at his sweet face and tears spilled out of my eyes. He’s so beautiful, so unbearably beautiful. Funny, and silly, and irresistible. Now his smile will never be the same. With that front baby tooth gone, his impish smile will begin the inevitable change. His adult teeth will come in, his face will mature, and he will grow up. It makes me ache, and laugh, and weep all at once. “It’s okay, Mom.” He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tight. “I know. You don’t want me to grow up. You love me so much, and want me to stay little.” Yes. You’re right. I want you to stay little. But I love watching you grow. I love hearing you read. Seeing you play and be silly. Watching your love for math and drawing blossom. I’m so full of love for you, I can’t hold it all in. I burst into tears when you pull out a tooth, I love you so. But also… Sometimes…
I’m empty and aching, and I don’t know why.
by Mariah Evans
Kathy, Im lost. I said, though I knew you were sleeping. I’m empty and aching, and I don’t know why.
Sometimes this Simon and Garfunkel line goes through my mind, over and over again. It moves me, these few simple, raw words. Last night, they were swimming through my mind as the boys and I were getting ready for bed. I kissed my babes all goodnight, after wiggling Harry’s tooth a dozen times. He was sure it was ready to come out, I was sure it was not. I kissed them all, said prayers. Then I came downstairs and listened to Simon and Garfunkel in the quiet, semi dark. Chris was out of town, and it was just me. The song, “America” turns my heart inside out. I don’t know why… It stirs the marrow of my bones. Makes my heart ache and bleed out of me.
Kathy, Im lost. I said, though I knew you were sleeping. I’m empty and aching, and I don’t know why.
I never really thought about it much before, but it may be that I really relate the duality of the lyrics. Here he is, going along, enjoying his life. Loving his adventure. But, also. When it’s quiet, and it’s safe, and no one can really hear… He can admit the other truth. The simultaneous truth.
Kathy, Im lost. I said, though I knew you were sleeping. I’m empty and aching, and I don’t know why.
Harry came down the stairs, grinning. Blood on his fingers. Proudly holding his square white tooth in his hand. I looked at his sweet face and tears spilled out of my eyes. He’s so beautiful, so unbearably beautiful. Funny, and silly, and irresistible. Now his smile will never be the same. With that front baby tooth gone, his impish smile will begin the inevitable change. His adult teeth will come in, his face will mature, and he will grow up. It makes me ache, and laugh, and weep all at once. “It’s okay, Mom.” He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tight. “I know. You don’t want me to grow up. You love me so much, and want me to stay little.” Yes. You’re right. I want you to stay little. But I love watching you grow. I love hearing you read. Seeing you play and be silly. Watching your love for math and drawing blossom. I’m so full of love for you, I can’t hold it all in. I burst into tears when you pull out a tooth, I love you so. But also… Sometimes…
I’m empty and aching, and I don’t know why.
"The Kissing Hand"
by Rachel Wheeler
For my boy who “loves to be loved.”
I didn’t want you to go to school. I wanted you to stay at home with me. We would play baby dinosaur and read books and go to the playground with friends. You didn’t want to go to school either. But we talked about it and remembered that we all have to do things we don’t want to do.
We also knew that we’d miss each other.
We had learned of a very old and wonderful secret hidden in a special book. It was The Kissing Hand. On the very first day of pre-school last year we tried it out. First I took your hand and spread open your tiny fingers into a fan. I leaned forward and kissed you right in the middle of your palm. Then you did the same to me.
We’ve parted each morning this same way for a year and a half. Just as you turn to walk away into school you always turn to me and smile, blow me a kiss and reassure me, “I miss you already! Bye bye! I love you mama!” I stand back and watch as you walk down the hallway to your classroom to join your new friends. I turn and walk home alone. And now here’s a secret. Sometimes even mamas get lonely. And whenever that happens and I need a little love I just press my hand to my cheek and that very kiss you put there earlier jumps to my face and fills me with sweet warm thoughts of you.
(Words borrowed and adapted from The Kissing Hand by Audrey Penn. Many thanks to Chester the raccoon for loving to love his mama.)
by Rachel Wheeler
For my boy who “loves to be loved.”
I didn’t want you to go to school. I wanted you to stay at home with me. We would play baby dinosaur and read books and go to the playground with friends. You didn’t want to go to school either. But we talked about it and remembered that we all have to do things we don’t want to do.
We also knew that we’d miss each other.
We had learned of a very old and wonderful secret hidden in a special book. It was The Kissing Hand. On the very first day of pre-school last year we tried it out. First I took your hand and spread open your tiny fingers into a fan. I leaned forward and kissed you right in the middle of your palm. Then you did the same to me.
We’ve parted each morning this same way for a year and a half. Just as you turn to walk away into school you always turn to me and smile, blow me a kiss and reassure me, “I miss you already! Bye bye! I love you mama!” I stand back and watch as you walk down the hallway to your classroom to join your new friends. I turn and walk home alone. And now here’s a secret. Sometimes even mamas get lonely. And whenever that happens and I need a little love I just press my hand to my cheek and that very kiss you put there earlier jumps to my face and fills me with sweet warm thoughts of you.
(Words borrowed and adapted from The Kissing Hand by Audrey Penn. Many thanks to Chester the raccoon for loving to love his mama.)
"Intentions"
by Kellie Pribbernow
I didn't intend to cut our heads off. Just like I didn't intend to yell so much during bedtime routine. Or be angry about stupid little things that don't matter after dinner. I didn't even intend to make the dinner that I ended up having to make due to my own poor planning, and that nobody enjoyed. There are so many moments I don't intend to let happen. It can drag me down, and sometimes I feel like I'm suffocating in a blanket of failure. But some moments, yes, some moments I can still make happen with intention. I can still pray with you at bedtime. I can still sing you your bedtime song, and let you give all the “hugga muggas” to your siblings and to me. I can be intentional about breathing out a genuine smile and saying our goodnights so that I can leave you all on a positive note. I pray that the routine of our goodnights is more powerful in your memory than the routine of my daily failed intentions.
by Kellie Pribbernow
I didn't intend to cut our heads off. Just like I didn't intend to yell so much during bedtime routine. Or be angry about stupid little things that don't matter after dinner. I didn't even intend to make the dinner that I ended up having to make due to my own poor planning, and that nobody enjoyed. There are so many moments I don't intend to let happen. It can drag me down, and sometimes I feel like I'm suffocating in a blanket of failure. But some moments, yes, some moments I can still make happen with intention. I can still pray with you at bedtime. I can still sing you your bedtime song, and let you give all the “hugga muggas” to your siblings and to me. I can be intentional about breathing out a genuine smile and saying our goodnights so that I can leave you all on a positive note. I pray that the routine of our goodnights is more powerful in your memory than the routine of my daily failed intentions.
“tomorrow is a new day”
by Claudia Alvarez
Lately some days seem longer than others, like I won’t be able to get through them. I text daddy and I ask him to pray for me. I talk to him and he tells me to relax, but I can’t. I look all around me, It feels like there’s always so much that needs to be done. Things get done, but then another load of laundry needs to get washed, then put away, the house needs to be swept again, the dishes need to be washed again, food needs to be prepared, classes need to be done. As soon as I start working on something, I’m called and I need to stop doing what I’m doing to go. I’m not complaining, I know you all need me. I’m trying to give of myself to you, my girls. Sometimes I fail you, I'm not perfect... I have those talks with you girls when I mess up. I’m sorry. Every night before I fall asleep, I think about all of these moments, where I could have spent more time with you instead of cleaning or working… I pray and ask God to help me, to help me to be the mother he created me to be. I’m thankful for God’s Grace, without it I couldn’t start my next day fresh and ready to go. Someday you’ll see what it’s like. Just know that I’m trying. Being a mommy has it’s moments, but it’s worth it and I wouldn’t change it for anything. Thank you for the times when baby sister gives me kisses, when little sister writes me love notes with hearts all over and tells me I’m the best best best best best mommy in the whole world, when big sister tells me she loves me and gives me the biggest tightest hug. I love you so much my girls, those details also motivate me and fill my heart. I will be the mommy God created me to be for you three. I know it won’t be like this forever, I really need to slow down...
by Claudia Alvarez
Lately some days seem longer than others, like I won’t be able to get through them. I text daddy and I ask him to pray for me. I talk to him and he tells me to relax, but I can’t. I look all around me, It feels like there’s always so much that needs to be done. Things get done, but then another load of laundry needs to get washed, then put away, the house needs to be swept again, the dishes need to be washed again, food needs to be prepared, classes need to be done. As soon as I start working on something, I’m called and I need to stop doing what I’m doing to go. I’m not complaining, I know you all need me. I’m trying to give of myself to you, my girls. Sometimes I fail you, I'm not perfect... I have those talks with you girls when I mess up. I’m sorry. Every night before I fall asleep, I think about all of these moments, where I could have spent more time with you instead of cleaning or working… I pray and ask God to help me, to help me to be the mother he created me to be. I’m thankful for God’s Grace, without it I couldn’t start my next day fresh and ready to go. Someday you’ll see what it’s like. Just know that I’m trying. Being a mommy has it’s moments, but it’s worth it and I wouldn’t change it for anything. Thank you for the times when baby sister gives me kisses, when little sister writes me love notes with hearts all over and tells me I’m the best best best best best mommy in the whole world, when big sister tells me she loves me and gives me the biggest tightest hug. I love you so much my girls, those details also motivate me and fill my heart. I will be the mommy God created me to be for you three. I know it won’t be like this forever, I really need to slow down...
“Laundry”
by Angie Menos
You show me things I never thought to look for. Today you pointed to the dryer and smiled. I looked and said “is that us?” to which you quickly responded, “Yeah!” And just like that, laundry wasn’t quite so boring. And now we have another image together.
by Angie Menos
You show me things I never thought to look for. Today you pointed to the dryer and smiled. I looked and said “is that us?” to which you quickly responded, “Yeah!” And just like that, laundry wasn’t quite so boring. And now we have another image together.
"Always"
by Faye Guilatco
You like your hair long but you always ask me to tie it. I know that this "always" is not going to be for long. I want to enjoy these little things that I always do for younow because one day you will stop asking and I know that I'm going to miss it.
by Faye Guilatco
You like your hair long but you always ask me to tie it. I know that this "always" is not going to be for long. I want to enjoy these little things that I always do for younow because one day you will stop asking and I know that I'm going to miss it.
"Untitled"
by Karlie Austin
I want to share a secret with you. When you were a baby I dreaded bedtime. It was often a 2-3 hour process that included too many strategies to count. I couldn't see past that stage to what bedtime could become.
Now one of my favourite parts of the day, is putting you to bed. I love hearing about how your day was and marvel at how well you are reading now. Most of all I love letting you fall asleep in my arms. Sometimes I lay and listen to you breathe long after you’ve fallen asleep and hang onto each one of these moments a little longer.
by Karlie Austin
I want to share a secret with you. When you were a baby I dreaded bedtime. It was often a 2-3 hour process that included too many strategies to count. I couldn't see past that stage to what bedtime could become.
Now one of my favourite parts of the day, is putting you to bed. I love hearing about how your day was and marvel at how well you are reading now. Most of all I love letting you fall asleep in my arms. Sometimes I lay and listen to you breathe long after you’ve fallen asleep and hang onto each one of these moments a little longer.
"Reflections"
by Erika Kao
You are a reflection of me. Not a perfect reflection; but like the reflection you might see in rippling water. I hear in your laughter my own laughter, I see in your smile my own smile. I witness in your temperament characteristics that I know exist in myself.
There's a sweet irony about becoming a mother. Despite how ardently I used to promise that I'd be nothing like my mother, I think I am actually very much like my mother. From my laugh to my smile to my temperament. It's been so many years since she's been gone, and I still find myself missing her. But her love for me lives in my love for you. Thanks to you, I can see that she is always with me.
by Erika Kao
You are a reflection of me. Not a perfect reflection; but like the reflection you might see in rippling water. I hear in your laughter my own laughter, I see in your smile my own smile. I witness in your temperament characteristics that I know exist in myself.
There's a sweet irony about becoming a mother. Despite how ardently I used to promise that I'd be nothing like my mother, I think I am actually very much like my mother. From my laugh to my smile to my temperament. It's been so many years since she's been gone, and I still find myself missing her. But her love for me lives in my love for you. Thanks to you, I can see that she is always with me.
"These hard nights"
by Tammy Lacasse
When you were two years old, I was bewildered faced with the huge meltdowns that were invading your tiny little body. Those storms who used to happens only with me. I recall going to your paediatrician to ask for help. I still hear her reassuring words explaining to me that, in fact, I was your pillar. That with me, you were feeling free to express your feelings, that you were feeling welcomed. These nights, we you are coming back from school, when I feel how deeply tired you are, when I hear your teacher congratulating me for your good behaviour in class, when I see you radiate in your school, this little community of yours, I try to stay strong for welcoming you entirely and staying the pillar that you need me to be. I often feel that I am not enough, but I hope to be just enough for you know that I’ll always be there for you, no matter what.
by Tammy Lacasse
When you were two years old, I was bewildered faced with the huge meltdowns that were invading your tiny little body. Those storms who used to happens only with me. I recall going to your paediatrician to ask for help. I still hear her reassuring words explaining to me that, in fact, I was your pillar. That with me, you were feeling free to express your feelings, that you were feeling welcomed. These nights, we you are coming back from school, when I feel how deeply tired you are, when I hear your teacher congratulating me for your good behaviour in class, when I see you radiate in your school, this little community of yours, I try to stay strong for welcoming you entirely and staying the pillar that you need me to be. I often feel that I am not enough, but I hope to be just enough for you know that I’ll always be there for you, no matter what.
"These Everyday Moments”
by Vanessa Maldonado
Before having you I would often admit that I had no idea how my life would change as soon as I became a mother. I was at least wise enough to know that I had no clue… Everyone of course mentions the sleepless nights and a love beyond compare and yes, these things are very true. But there is nothing that could have prepared me for the degree of fulfillment a simple task like washing dishes with you would bring. For all the times I continue to surrender to the unknown world of motherhood, these moments ground me and I am eternally grateful.
by Vanessa Maldonado
Before having you I would often admit that I had no idea how my life would change as soon as I became a mother. I was at least wise enough to know that I had no clue… Everyone of course mentions the sleepless nights and a love beyond compare and yes, these things are very true. But there is nothing that could have prepared me for the degree of fulfillment a simple task like washing dishes with you would bring. For all the times I continue to surrender to the unknown world of motherhood, these moments ground me and I am eternally grateful.
"untitled"
by Megan Millsop
i adore the blown kisses. i cherish how you rest your little head in the same nook of my shoulder as you cuddle up against your blankie each night. i love that you are now giving actual kisses and the smiles that go alongside them. i already miss some of the "baby" behavior you've outgrown, but i must say these new toddler tricks are everything right now.
by Megan Millsop
i adore the blown kisses. i cherish how you rest your little head in the same nook of my shoulder as you cuddle up against your blankie each night. i love that you are now giving actual kisses and the smiles that go alongside them. i already miss some of the "baby" behavior you've outgrown, but i must say these new toddler tricks are everything right now.
"Dyslexic"
by Stephanie Bieniarz
“Is that what i am mom? Dyslexic?” You could recognize the first letter of your name at three, but told me 200 word narratives at 18 mos. At 5 the letters of your name made their way into a singular word, but still backwards, flipped or all together missing. Even now a new word is a new word for many many more repetitions than anyone else. Its hard, its frustrating. I can see it in your face and hear it in your voice when you tell me about the group project at school. The time you teared up because more than anything you wanted to read the National Geographic Magazine to yourself because geography and anthropology and all the sciences are truly that interesting to you. We fought our way through a system and had you tested despite arguments. And yes, son, you are dyslexic. But that is not all you are. You are brilliant, and that we needed no test to discover. This only proves that you see things differently, magically and maybe you fit into the educational box a little less than your peers. But this struggle has coined a new phrase to be repeated again and again by all members in this household. “I’m a Bieniarz, and a Bieniarz is not afraid of hard work.” Someday I hope to look back and see how this challenge molded you and made you stronger. Someday you may choose to not identify as such because I know you and you’re not afraid of the hard work before you.
by Stephanie Bieniarz
“Is that what i am mom? Dyslexic?” You could recognize the first letter of your name at three, but told me 200 word narratives at 18 mos. At 5 the letters of your name made their way into a singular word, but still backwards, flipped or all together missing. Even now a new word is a new word for many many more repetitions than anyone else. Its hard, its frustrating. I can see it in your face and hear it in your voice when you tell me about the group project at school. The time you teared up because more than anything you wanted to read the National Geographic Magazine to yourself because geography and anthropology and all the sciences are truly that interesting to you. We fought our way through a system and had you tested despite arguments. And yes, son, you are dyslexic. But that is not all you are. You are brilliant, and that we needed no test to discover. This only proves that you see things differently, magically and maybe you fit into the educational box a little less than your peers. But this struggle has coined a new phrase to be repeated again and again by all members in this household. “I’m a Bieniarz, and a Bieniarz is not afraid of hard work.” Someday I hope to look back and see how this challenge molded you and made you stronger. Someday you may choose to not identify as such because I know you and you’re not afraid of the hard work before you.
"the ultimate gift"
by Heather Robinson
i am going to be upfront with you right now. if you can’t get honesty from your own mama, who else in the world is going to give you this ultimate gift?
birthdays and holidays are actually some of my least favorite times of the year. i think this is because of the pressure that we put on ourselves to make these days special as if they wouldn’t be normally. these ceremonious days stress me out because they never seem to measure up to this ideal i have in my head. so in turn i never seem to measure up because i am the one in our family who has been designated as the implementer of ceremonies.
i did sneak into your room last night and hang those six balloons above your head. i even used packing tape instead of scotch tape. but the tape was no match for those popcorn ceilings. you woke in a pile of balloons and tape stuck to your sheet instead. don’t worry i took a picture of the balloons on your ceiling should you want to see proof of existence.
i set the candle on the table last night so i would remember to light it while you ate your birthday breakfast. daddy was being his normal loving self and let me sleep in (how dare he?!) so i missed you inhaling your chocolate chip pancakes.
i smelled them on your cheek though as you crawled into bed to snuggle next to me and wake me. you made it even harder for me to leave my bed this morning. daddy came in and told you it was time to get dressed for school. you said, “i don’t want to go to school. i want to stay right here with mama. she is so warm.” this made me think of your birthday six years ago.
you weren’t ready to leave my warmth then either. so we had to coax you. but even with all the extra help you and i needed, you were still my easiest baby to bring into this world. i will never forget seeing daddy in the water with me holding brand new you in his arms after he caught you. on that day i fell deeper in love with you and daddy. and really with myself for all the hard work i had done bringing you here.
later once you were dressed, i lit the candle on the already cleared breakfast table. sometimes late is better than never. i asked you to come sit with me so daddy could take our picture together. you gladly obliged and slid back into my arms. as we sat there, i told you about our first day together. about the first time i ever held you in my arms. you have heard the story many times before. i don’t just tell it on special days. this is because i think that each day i get to spend with you in this world is a special day. and the stories we tell are the reminders of what a wonderful life this is. so we tell these stories often. sometimes these stories help us feel special on the many not so special days of the year.
my six year old love, i hope you feel happiness on this day and each and every day after.
by Heather Robinson
i am going to be upfront with you right now. if you can’t get honesty from your own mama, who else in the world is going to give you this ultimate gift?
birthdays and holidays are actually some of my least favorite times of the year. i think this is because of the pressure that we put on ourselves to make these days special as if they wouldn’t be normally. these ceremonious days stress me out because they never seem to measure up to this ideal i have in my head. so in turn i never seem to measure up because i am the one in our family who has been designated as the implementer of ceremonies.
i did sneak into your room last night and hang those six balloons above your head. i even used packing tape instead of scotch tape. but the tape was no match for those popcorn ceilings. you woke in a pile of balloons and tape stuck to your sheet instead. don’t worry i took a picture of the balloons on your ceiling should you want to see proof of existence.
i set the candle on the table last night so i would remember to light it while you ate your birthday breakfast. daddy was being his normal loving self and let me sleep in (how dare he?!) so i missed you inhaling your chocolate chip pancakes.
i smelled them on your cheek though as you crawled into bed to snuggle next to me and wake me. you made it even harder for me to leave my bed this morning. daddy came in and told you it was time to get dressed for school. you said, “i don’t want to go to school. i want to stay right here with mama. she is so warm.” this made me think of your birthday six years ago.
you weren’t ready to leave my warmth then either. so we had to coax you. but even with all the extra help you and i needed, you were still my easiest baby to bring into this world. i will never forget seeing daddy in the water with me holding brand new you in his arms after he caught you. on that day i fell deeper in love with you and daddy. and really with myself for all the hard work i had done bringing you here.
later once you were dressed, i lit the candle on the already cleared breakfast table. sometimes late is better than never. i asked you to come sit with me so daddy could take our picture together. you gladly obliged and slid back into my arms. as we sat there, i told you about our first day together. about the first time i ever held you in my arms. you have heard the story many times before. i don’t just tell it on special days. this is because i think that each day i get to spend with you in this world is a special day. and the stories we tell are the reminders of what a wonderful life this is. so we tell these stories often. sometimes these stories help us feel special on the many not so special days of the year.
my six year old love, i hope you feel happiness on this day and each and every day after.
"You need mama"
by Mandy Benoit
I've been so busy. Jewelry season wears me out. Working every hour of the day I can to make sure I have what I need for my show, every day, for months on end... it takes everything I have. I no longer have time to take pause, and that's what wipes me out. I don't have time for the practice of seeing the beauty that exists right in front of me, the gifts I'm blessed with....
Well my big show is done... and my reward is time....time to really see you; enjoy you; be with you. you have gotten a cold my little love. And it really jams you up. Streams of snot. You poor thing. Today when I was rocking you to sleep for your nap, I found myself singing to you, and almost chanting, "you need mama" you dug your head into my shoulder as if to tell me there was no place you'd rather be, and as this weekend, I'm ignoring any big make lists I may have, and taking pause, I took pleasure in you needing me. I reveled in you needing me, delighted in it. You are our last. My heart is starting to align with my head on this. The needing me that used to wear me to the bone is now going to be what I miss the very most. But for now, I'm going to take it in and let it warm my heart .
by Mandy Benoit
I've been so busy. Jewelry season wears me out. Working every hour of the day I can to make sure I have what I need for my show, every day, for months on end... it takes everything I have. I no longer have time to take pause, and that's what wipes me out. I don't have time for the practice of seeing the beauty that exists right in front of me, the gifts I'm blessed with....
Well my big show is done... and my reward is time....time to really see you; enjoy you; be with you. you have gotten a cold my little love. And it really jams you up. Streams of snot. You poor thing. Today when I was rocking you to sleep for your nap, I found myself singing to you, and almost chanting, "you need mama" you dug your head into my shoulder as if to tell me there was no place you'd rather be, and as this weekend, I'm ignoring any big make lists I may have, and taking pause, I took pleasure in you needing me. I reveled in you needing me, delighted in it. You are our last. My heart is starting to align with my head on this. The needing me that used to wear me to the bone is now going to be what I miss the very most. But for now, I'm going to take it in and let it warm my heart .
"Four going on thirty"
by Lauren McAdam
Lately you have been asking questions that are above your age. "Where will I live when I'm older? Who will I marry?"
After chatting with your kinder teacher yesterday, I had to ask you "Are you telling everyone at kinder that we have a new baby at home?" "No", you said with a guilty look on your face. "Why are you saying that when it's not true?" I asked. "Because I just wish I was older", you replied " I wish I was a grown up. I wish I had a baby. How long does it take to get a baby? How old do you have to be?" Slow down kid. Your just four.
by Lauren McAdam
Lately you have been asking questions that are above your age. "Where will I live when I'm older? Who will I marry?"
After chatting with your kinder teacher yesterday, I had to ask you "Are you telling everyone at kinder that we have a new baby at home?" "No", you said with a guilty look on your face. "Why are you saying that when it's not true?" I asked. "Because I just wish I was older", you replied " I wish I was a grown up. I wish I had a baby. How long does it take to get a baby? How old do you have to be?" Slow down kid. Your just four.
“breathing you in”
by Heather Tully
oh, I love smooching your face! it hasn’t always been easy for me to slow down & savor what’s in front of me. I think for a long time, I thought in order to do that, I first needed everything in order & checked off. I thought quiet equaled peace. but here’s the thing, life keeps going & a mama’s job is never accomplished- the next thing is always waiting. it’s a blessing to have all those things to do even though there is tension from a fallen world. all these tasks are the fruit of a full life lived with all of you & I’ve learned peace is a matter of my heart, not the volume level in this house.
but it’s also a blessing to let it all go & just be. with you… and usually several other children running around being loud, which was the reality outside this photo. that’s okay- I’ll just breath you in for a bit longer!
by Heather Tully
oh, I love smooching your face! it hasn’t always been easy for me to slow down & savor what’s in front of me. I think for a long time, I thought in order to do that, I first needed everything in order & checked off. I thought quiet equaled peace. but here’s the thing, life keeps going & a mama’s job is never accomplished- the next thing is always waiting. it’s a blessing to have all those things to do even though there is tension from a fallen world. all these tasks are the fruit of a full life lived with all of you & I’ve learned peace is a matter of my heart, not the volume level in this house.
but it’s also a blessing to let it all go & just be. with you… and usually several other children running around being loud, which was the reality outside this photo. that’s okay- I’ll just breath you in for a bit longer!
"Next"
by Adrianne Picicci
My daughter, you are a strong girl. Weaning you has not been easy for either one of us. You have resisted. I suppose I have resisted, too. I’m ready to regain a sliver of individuality, to have a body that is my own, but there is loss to process, too. As you grow, so does your independence. I will miss these moments of co-dependence: your trust, my love, snoozing under warm blankets.
by Adrianne Picicci
My daughter, you are a strong girl. Weaning you has not been easy for either one of us. You have resisted. I suppose I have resisted, too. I’m ready to regain a sliver of individuality, to have a body that is my own, but there is loss to process, too. As you grow, so does your independence. I will miss these moments of co-dependence: your trust, my love, snoozing under warm blankets.
"The Nail"
by Kendra Knaggs
There are small rituals that ground us in our daily life, habits that centre our days. You and I, we get the mail or as you call it “The Nail”. No matter how we try it is one of the words you still can’t quite get “the mmmmmmnail”. You and I share the understanding that the mailbox, with its red flag, holds the potential for magic every day. Sometimes your brother comes with us. Sometimes we go alone. We used to go twice a day. Now you understand that the postman only comes once. Watching you learn is incredible. Over and over we answer your questions. We explain these things about the world that pique your interest and curiousity. Days pass, weeks, months and then there is it – the connection is made in your brain forever. Amazing. The postman only comes once a day. Today there was nothing for either of us but tomorrow, well tomorrow who knows.
by Kendra Knaggs
There are small rituals that ground us in our daily life, habits that centre our days. You and I, we get the mail or as you call it “The Nail”. No matter how we try it is one of the words you still can’t quite get “the mmmmmmnail”. You and I share the understanding that the mailbox, with its red flag, holds the potential for magic every day. Sometimes your brother comes with us. Sometimes we go alone. We used to go twice a day. Now you understand that the postman only comes once. Watching you learn is incredible. Over and over we answer your questions. We explain these things about the world that pique your interest and curiousity. Days pass, weeks, months and then there is it – the connection is made in your brain forever. Amazing. The postman only comes once a day. Today there was nothing for either of us but tomorrow, well tomorrow who knows.
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October 2017
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"Perspective" by Stephanie Bieniarz
Yep, you found me. trying to take a self portrait for yet another photography class. I thought i could get to this assignment quickly without interruption, but nope. I sometimes want to lock myself in a room, or run down the block for more than 5 square feet of personal space, but you all still need me. Its like I'm the sun and you're my little solar system revolving around my every movement, sometimes distant sometimes eclipsing. But I know even now sandwiched between 2 of the 4 of you dear ones that someday I'll be truly alone in this portrait. You won't be there to fill in the space between my hand and my heart. Don't worry though, my dear ones. I won't be lonely, and my love for you stems from a greater Love that I cannot lose. But I do love each of you so incredibly much. And the task of getting you out of my orbit and into adulthood as a beautiful, kind and responsible grown ups is a big job and sometimes this lens gives me perspective beyond 35mm in these moments.
Yep, you found me. trying to take a self portrait for yet another photography class. I thought i could get to this assignment quickly without interruption, but nope. I sometimes want to lock myself in a room, or run down the block for more than 5 square feet of personal space, but you all still need me. Its like I'm the sun and you're my little solar system revolving around my every movement, sometimes distant sometimes eclipsing. But I know even now sandwiched between 2 of the 4 of you dear ones that someday I'll be truly alone in this portrait. You won't be there to fill in the space between my hand and my heart. Don't worry though, my dear ones. I won't be lonely, and my love for you stems from a greater Love that I cannot lose. But I do love each of you so incredibly much. And the task of getting you out of my orbit and into adulthood as a beautiful, kind and responsible grown ups is a big job and sometimes this lens gives me perspective beyond 35mm in these moments.
"Sandbanks" by Kendra Knaggs
Listen up. This is important. There are days, sometimes just moments, that you know while they are happening will be the best of your life - your whole life. They will be unexpected in their simplicity. Don't take yourself out of that moment. Live in it fully. Become aware of all your senses: what does it smell like, feel like, and sound like. Make a place in your mind for them. You will go back to them often. They will sustain you through some of the more challenging times.
The weekend was supposed to be cool. We brought bathing suits just in case but only one towel because, meh, the water will probably be too cold. As soon as we came over the top of that dune and saw the small but loud white caps coming in I knew we were going in. The water was the warmest it has been all summer and the shallows went out for so far. That beach is vast and the water seemed wide somehow. Shoes and socks came off. River and Daddy were in first while I watched with Indy from the shore and then we were all in the shallows. I was on my knees holding Indy. The waves came in knocking us back. Up and over the big ones but I crashed us into the good ones. I could see Daddy doing the same with River. And the laughter mixed with the roaring of the surf is a sound I will never forget. You are almost four and two years old.
This picture, this snapshot, though I love it so, it more to remind me of the minutes before. The rest of the weekend was amazing. But those mere twenty minutes we spent laughing in the water. They live forever in me now. And though you are both very young, they will live somewhere inside of you too.
Listen up. This is important. There are days, sometimes just moments, that you know while they are happening will be the best of your life - your whole life. They will be unexpected in their simplicity. Don't take yourself out of that moment. Live in it fully. Become aware of all your senses: what does it smell like, feel like, and sound like. Make a place in your mind for them. You will go back to them often. They will sustain you through some of the more challenging times.
The weekend was supposed to be cool. We brought bathing suits just in case but only one towel because, meh, the water will probably be too cold. As soon as we came over the top of that dune and saw the small but loud white caps coming in I knew we were going in. The water was the warmest it has been all summer and the shallows went out for so far. That beach is vast and the water seemed wide somehow. Shoes and socks came off. River and Daddy were in first while I watched with Indy from the shore and then we were all in the shallows. I was on my knees holding Indy. The waves came in knocking us back. Up and over the big ones but I crashed us into the good ones. I could see Daddy doing the same with River. And the laughter mixed with the roaring of the surf is a sound I will never forget. You are almost four and two years old.
This picture, this snapshot, though I love it so, it more to remind me of the minutes before. The rest of the weekend was amazing. But those mere twenty minutes we spent laughing in the water. They live forever in me now. And though you are both very young, they will live somewhere inside of you too.
"Friends" by Megan O'Donnell
You two are at your best when you're playing your own games. Ronan makes them up and you are always so delighted to follow and join in. Not only to follow and join in but to escalate every aspect. The games are always noisy and always physical but the noise is the beautiful sound of your laughter and of you calling each other's names.
You two are at your best when you're playing your own games. Ronan makes them up and you are always so delighted to follow and join in. Not only to follow and join in but to escalate every aspect. The games are always noisy and always physical but the noise is the beautiful sound of your laughter and of you calling each other's names.
untitled by Faye Guilatco
I want to remember how you walk, how you talk, how you move. I want to remember your eyes, your smile, your every bit of you. I donʼt want my memories of you to fade into a blur.
I want to remember how you walk, how you talk, how you move. I want to remember your eyes, your smile, your every bit of you. I donʼt want my memories of you to fade into a blur.
“The Fort” by Sylvie Grahan
The weeks have been long. By the time we get home, we barely have enough time to squeeze in unpacking and repacking lunches, miscellaneous household chores, and dinner before we have to get ready for bed. So this weekend we eased our agenda. We hiked with friends in the morning and then you two played after lunch. When it came time for Peanut’s nap, you hid him away from me in your closet fort so that he wouldn’t have to leave you. “Peanut, don’t come out,” you’d shriek each time you ran to get another toy for the fort. I kept pushing the time because I love seeing you play together.
The weeks have been long. By the time we get home, we barely have enough time to squeeze in unpacking and repacking lunches, miscellaneous household chores, and dinner before we have to get ready for bed. So this weekend we eased our agenda. We hiked with friends in the morning and then you two played after lunch. When it came time for Peanut’s nap, you hid him away from me in your closet fort so that he wouldn’t have to leave you. “Peanut, don’t come out,” you’d shriek each time you ran to get another toy for the fort. I kept pushing the time because I love seeing you play together.
"Who You Are" by Rachel Wheeler
Rush rush rush. That’s how Sundays go. There never seems to be much time to feel the Day and savour it. When I entered the room to hurry you up...time, it seemed, slowed down. In that moment I saw you clearly and quickly and thoroughly. I breathed in the light and caught a vision of who you are. You are ours. You are His. You are Alpha and Omega. You are Love unfeigned … sitting side by side.
Rush rush rush. That’s how Sundays go. There never seems to be much time to feel the Day and savour it. When I entered the room to hurry you up...time, it seemed, slowed down. In that moment I saw you clearly and quickly and thoroughly. I breathed in the light and caught a vision of who you are. You are ours. You are His. You are Alpha and Omega. You are Love unfeigned … sitting side by side.
"lost and found" by Heather Robinson
"mama? mama?”
"yes?"
“mama?”
"what is it buddy?"
“umm... i forgot.”
"i love you buddy".
“oh yeah. that was it. i love you too mama."
"mama? mama?”
"yes?"
“mama?”
"what is it buddy?"
“umm... i forgot.”
"i love you buddy".
“oh yeah. that was it. i love you too mama."
“Nana” by Megan Millsop
You need time to warm up to people you don’t see on a regular basis. You hadn’t seen your Nana for over 2 months. When we arrived, you were tired from the drive and an interrupted schedule, but you warmed to her immediately. I know why. Her heart and soul fills every inch of space within her walls. I’m not one for dead animal skins, antlers, feathers or fur hanging from my walls and draped over furniture, but in her house, it wouldn’t feel right without those things. Old wooden furniture, pictures and paraphernalia from the past, warm light that streams in from each window. It’s as though each item tells a story. It reveals a little more each time we’re there. These items are just things though. It’s your nana that makes them so much more. That smile on your face tells me you too can feel more than just what you see. And you too will be enveloped by that energy.
You need time to warm up to people you don’t see on a regular basis. You hadn’t seen your Nana for over 2 months. When we arrived, you were tired from the drive and an interrupted schedule, but you warmed to her immediately. I know why. Her heart and soul fills every inch of space within her walls. I’m not one for dead animal skins, antlers, feathers or fur hanging from my walls and draped over furniture, but in her house, it wouldn’t feel right without those things. Old wooden furniture, pictures and paraphernalia from the past, warm light that streams in from each window. It’s as though each item tells a story. It reveals a little more each time we’re there. These items are just things though. It’s your nana that makes them so much more. That smile on your face tells me you too can feel more than just what you see. And you too will be enveloped by that energy.
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September 2017
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"Fairy" by Faye S Guilatco
You get lost in your imagination. You dream of flying. You dream of being a fairy.
Keep going, my darling. I can see your wings even if no one else can.
You get lost in your imagination. You dream of flying. You dream of being a fairy.
Keep going, my darling. I can see your wings even if no one else can.
"Ready" by Rachel Wheeler
For the first couple years of your life, whenever I turned on the water to fill the bathtub, you cried. No, not cried. You bawled, ran from the bathroom, blocked your ears and closed your bedroom door “until it was over.” Slowly but surely over many many months and lots of hard work you learned to take that sound and put it inside yourself and let it just be there.
Hair washing was something else. Sometimes it still is. There was finessing just the right water height so you could lay down “without sinking,” talking to “our friend the ceiling” who assured you all was well and asked about all the silly things that happened in your day, and citrus scented shampoo to help your mama keep her patience. “No water in my eyes, mama. It’s getting on MY FACE, mama! MAMA! MAMA! STOP!” You had the idea to hold a dry washcloth over your face to keep you safe from the water. Very clever boy.
When we moved out of the city we chose a neighborhood with a pool. You have LOVED being in that water and I have seen you watching, from a great distance so you don’t get splashed, the other kids as they splash and dive. And your sister. Your sister who would live in that water if she could. All so confident.
“Mama. I’m feeling left out of all the fun.”
“When you’re ready you’ll start trying things.”
The pool is closed but you’ve begun to ask to be in mom and dad’s big tub. You play with instead of fight the water. Blow bubbles. Dip your ears in. Get your hair a bit wet. Even hold your breath and try to float. We signed you up for swim instruction with a coach. I should call him a wizard, really, because after 15 minutes in the pool with him and a great pair of goggles you were smiling, talking, laughing and fully submerged in the water. Fully submerged!
This time is was your mama who cried. Watching from a great distance so I didn’t get splashed, I cried super proud but quiet tears. I looked up at “our friend the ceiling” and thanked Him for seeing you through until you were ready.
For the first couple years of your life, whenever I turned on the water to fill the bathtub, you cried. No, not cried. You bawled, ran from the bathroom, blocked your ears and closed your bedroom door “until it was over.” Slowly but surely over many many months and lots of hard work you learned to take that sound and put it inside yourself and let it just be there.
Hair washing was something else. Sometimes it still is. There was finessing just the right water height so you could lay down “without sinking,” talking to “our friend the ceiling” who assured you all was well and asked about all the silly things that happened in your day, and citrus scented shampoo to help your mama keep her patience. “No water in my eyes, mama. It’s getting on MY FACE, mama! MAMA! MAMA! STOP!” You had the idea to hold a dry washcloth over your face to keep you safe from the water. Very clever boy.
When we moved out of the city we chose a neighborhood with a pool. You have LOVED being in that water and I have seen you watching, from a great distance so you don’t get splashed, the other kids as they splash and dive. And your sister. Your sister who would live in that water if she could. All so confident.
“Mama. I’m feeling left out of all the fun.”
“When you’re ready you’ll start trying things.”
The pool is closed but you’ve begun to ask to be in mom and dad’s big tub. You play with instead of fight the water. Blow bubbles. Dip your ears in. Get your hair a bit wet. Even hold your breath and try to float. We signed you up for swim instruction with a coach. I should call him a wizard, really, because after 15 minutes in the pool with him and a great pair of goggles you were smiling, talking, laughing and fully submerged in the water. Fully submerged!
This time is was your mama who cried. Watching from a great distance so I didn’t get splashed, I cried super proud but quiet tears. I looked up at “our friend the ceiling” and thanked Him for seeing you through until you were ready.
"the garden” by Megan Millsop
we only got around to planting tomatoes this year. and that’s only because your dad found the time and energy to go get the plants from the store and plant them. i feel like this lone tomato represents the time we are at in our lives right now. we live by the barest minimum of time each day of the week and when the weekend arrives we can finally take just a few moments to breathe. our plants may bear only a few tomatoes each week, but when each one ripens, we enjoy each bite. one day i know our garden will be filled with all kinds of edible treasures that we will cultivate and watch grow. for this season though, i am focused on cultivating my other treasures that grow inside the house rather than out in the garden.
we only got around to planting tomatoes this year. and that’s only because your dad found the time and energy to go get the plants from the store and plant them. i feel like this lone tomato represents the time we are at in our lives right now. we live by the barest minimum of time each day of the week and when the weekend arrives we can finally take just a few moments to breathe. our plants may bear only a few tomatoes each week, but when each one ripens, we enjoy each bite. one day i know our garden will be filled with all kinds of edible treasures that we will cultivate and watch grow. for this season though, i am focused on cultivating my other treasures that grow inside the house rather than out in the garden.
"The Laundromat" by Adrianne Picicci
This weekend, I found myself back at the Lady Fair Laundromat. I thought the washing machine fad had passed, since you suddenly stopped talking about them all the time. Hot Wheels had come into your life. At four years old, your focus was singular. Your love of washing machines led to the purchase of three toy versions, so you could run your own mini laundromat. You spent hours filling them with assorted small objects--blocks and trucks and smiling figurines. These forgotten toys suddenly had a new purpose: the investigation of how size and shape and weight are affected by spin cycle. The more noise they made while clanging and spinning their way around the tiny drum the better. You also did “laundry.” Oh so much laundry. You would pull the socks off my feet, cramming them into your spinning cleaning machine. “I’m going to wash your big socks, Mama! One at a time. Veerrry carefully.” You spent hours watching DIY videos of washing machine repair. Front loaders were better than top loaders, in your opinion. On the weekends, you begged to go to the laundromat. We would offer to take you to the park, the trampoline center, the children’s museum, but you preferred the “laundrymat.” We gave in a few times and took turns escorting you there, inserting dollars into the change machine, purchasing those tiny boxes of Tide from the vending machine, pushing buttons on the machines, watching them spin and slosh soapy water at high speeds. Suddenly, I understood the appeal of water and moving parts in one. It was pretty cool, when I thought about it. I hadn’t been to the laundromat since college. I remember passing the time it took to wash and dry a load of laundry drinking coffee and reading heavy textbooks. Now, I passed the time watching my four year old run up and down the rows of machines, opening and closing doors, marveling at the size of a jumbo washer, meant for heavy duty items, like rugs. “He sure likes washing machines,” random strangers informed me. Yup. But then you got closer to five and toy cars were suddenly everything. Every question that had led to “washing machines” now led to “Hot Wheels” instead. What do you want for Christmas? Hot Wheels. What’s your favorite toy? Hot Wheels. No more trips to the laundromat for us. But here we are almost a year later, and your old flame has been reignited. You want to go to the “laundrymat” and watch the machines spin. Our greatest loves are like that, I guess. Sometimes we move away from them for a while, but they usually find a way to spin back around into our lives again. I think that’s a good thing.
This weekend, I found myself back at the Lady Fair Laundromat. I thought the washing machine fad had passed, since you suddenly stopped talking about them all the time. Hot Wheels had come into your life. At four years old, your focus was singular. Your love of washing machines led to the purchase of three toy versions, so you could run your own mini laundromat. You spent hours filling them with assorted small objects--blocks and trucks and smiling figurines. These forgotten toys suddenly had a new purpose: the investigation of how size and shape and weight are affected by spin cycle. The more noise they made while clanging and spinning their way around the tiny drum the better. You also did “laundry.” Oh so much laundry. You would pull the socks off my feet, cramming them into your spinning cleaning machine. “I’m going to wash your big socks, Mama! One at a time. Veerrry carefully.” You spent hours watching DIY videos of washing machine repair. Front loaders were better than top loaders, in your opinion. On the weekends, you begged to go to the laundromat. We would offer to take you to the park, the trampoline center, the children’s museum, but you preferred the “laundrymat.” We gave in a few times and took turns escorting you there, inserting dollars into the change machine, purchasing those tiny boxes of Tide from the vending machine, pushing buttons on the machines, watching them spin and slosh soapy water at high speeds. Suddenly, I understood the appeal of water and moving parts in one. It was pretty cool, when I thought about it. I hadn’t been to the laundromat since college. I remember passing the time it took to wash and dry a load of laundry drinking coffee and reading heavy textbooks. Now, I passed the time watching my four year old run up and down the rows of machines, opening and closing doors, marveling at the size of a jumbo washer, meant for heavy duty items, like rugs. “He sure likes washing machines,” random strangers informed me. Yup. But then you got closer to five and toy cars were suddenly everything. Every question that had led to “washing machines” now led to “Hot Wheels” instead. What do you want for Christmas? Hot Wheels. What’s your favorite toy? Hot Wheels. No more trips to the laundromat for us. But here we are almost a year later, and your old flame has been reignited. You want to go to the “laundrymat” and watch the machines spin. Our greatest loves are like that, I guess. Sometimes we move away from them for a while, but they usually find a way to spin back around into our lives again. I think that’s a good thing.
Untitled by Nadia Stone
We are trying to enjoy every room of our house cause before we know it will be not ours. You wanted a bath in Daddy Bathroom, made by Daddy. You always show me the wall and the tiles and saying “Daddy ?” You do like bath time with your sister because we put bubbles in . What you don t like is me taking photo but I am sure that will pass.
We are trying to enjoy every room of our house cause before we know it will be not ours. You wanted a bath in Daddy Bathroom, made by Daddy. You always show me the wall and the tiles and saying “Daddy ?” You do like bath time with your sister because we put bubbles in . What you don t like is me taking photo but I am sure that will pass.
Untitled by Karlie Austin
Today was finally the day. We’ve been in this house for 8 months and I finally made the time to clean our windows.
It seemed pointless at first when we were renovating. Dust was everywhere and keeping anything clean was impossible. Summer months are always filled with water fights and little handprints coming and going, so with the start of school this past week it seemed like a good time.
I unpacked your Play-Doh to help buy me some time and did it ever. You’ve been back and forth all day creating feasts for your stuffed animals and treats for daddy and I.
Today was finally the day. We’ve been in this house for 8 months and I finally made the time to clean our windows.
It seemed pointless at first when we were renovating. Dust was everywhere and keeping anything clean was impossible. Summer months are always filled with water fights and little handprints coming and going, so with the start of school this past week it seemed like a good time.
I unpacked your Play-Doh to help buy me some time and did it ever. You’ve been back and forth all day creating feasts for your stuffed animals and treats for daddy and I.
"Space" by Kellie Pribbernow
We are always losing things. Losing favorite stuffies. Losing books. Losing time. I try to give you space to breathe and grow, discover and fail and try again. I try to give you physical spaces to use for creating. You have a play room with a giant lego table and an easel. You have a room with four perfect little desks for drawing and coloring. You have a bonus room and our living room and even the kitchen table. But you continue to sit on these steps to color, I think because you can be close together to do it. All of this space, and you choose the most cramped spot to share, right in the center of our home, constantly in the way of our walking. But you are not really in the way. You are right where I need you to be. Right where I can (literally) stumble upon the details I need to hold tight as they keep slipping away into the space of quickly passing time. The little bracelet you stole from your sister. The plastic barrette. Those sweet chubby arms and their too quickly fading rolls. And you. How you always squish up into a little ball whatever you are doing. I love that you love being together. I love that you love being in our new house, where we have spaces to choose from. And I love that you choose to be where I can and must stumble over you.
We are always losing things. Losing favorite stuffies. Losing books. Losing time. I try to give you space to breathe and grow, discover and fail and try again. I try to give you physical spaces to use for creating. You have a play room with a giant lego table and an easel. You have a room with four perfect little desks for drawing and coloring. You have a bonus room and our living room and even the kitchen table. But you continue to sit on these steps to color, I think because you can be close together to do it. All of this space, and you choose the most cramped spot to share, right in the center of our home, constantly in the way of our walking. But you are not really in the way. You are right where I need you to be. Right where I can (literally) stumble upon the details I need to hold tight as they keep slipping away into the space of quickly passing time. The little bracelet you stole from your sister. The plastic barrette. Those sweet chubby arms and their too quickly fading rolls. And you. How you always squish up into a little ball whatever you are doing. I love that you love being together. I love that you love being in our new house, where we have spaces to choose from. And I love that you choose to be where I can and must stumble over you.
“Nature” by Sylvie Grahan
Growing up in Baltimore, being outdoors meant a trip into the backyard. And while we spent hours there building tree houses and swinging on the tire swing, it wasn’t really Nature. However, the year I turned eleven, and every summer thereafter, RoPa loaded us three kids into an RV and took us camping. We’d spend two weeks in Shenandoah National Park, exploring the Appalachian trail each day until we’d drop, dirtied, exhausted, full of marshmallows, and listen as RoPa’s stories and the sound of the crickets lulled us to sleep in our tent. This is how I first fell in love with the Outdoors.
And this is one of the things I hope we give you. I hope you both grow to love the feel of the earth beneath your feet, the brisk morning air after a night in your sleeping bag, the smell of the earth after a rain. To become awestruck with the majesty and wonder of it all; to feel a sense of comfort and calm in nature; to feel at home. Above all, I hope you develop a deep love and respect for the natural world and all its living things.
Growing up in Baltimore, being outdoors meant a trip into the backyard. And while we spent hours there building tree houses and swinging on the tire swing, it wasn’t really Nature. However, the year I turned eleven, and every summer thereafter, RoPa loaded us three kids into an RV and took us camping. We’d spend two weeks in Shenandoah National Park, exploring the Appalachian trail each day until we’d drop, dirtied, exhausted, full of marshmallows, and listen as RoPa’s stories and the sound of the crickets lulled us to sleep in our tent. This is how I first fell in love with the Outdoors.
And this is one of the things I hope we give you. I hope you both grow to love the feel of the earth beneath your feet, the brisk morning air after a night in your sleeping bag, the smell of the earth after a rain. To become awestruck with the majesty and wonder of it all; to feel a sense of comfort and calm in nature; to feel at home. Above all, I hope you develop a deep love and respect for the natural world and all its living things.
"heart health" by Heather Robinson
i asked you what you were thinking about. you said, “your heart. i want to make you something. something that will make you happy. but something that is healthy…for your heart."
i asked you what you were thinking about. you said, “your heart. i want to make you something. something that will make you happy. but something that is healthy…for your heart."
“no view like the one outside your own window” by Snow Cabral
i was so fortunate this bright orange glow came in the windows and caught my attention. not only did i almost miss an incredible sunset, but the thing i love seeing most, watching the two of you play together. especially as you get older and start moving towards different interests. i know you’ll always come back together and be friends even as the years go by.
sister, you were so excited that bubba started baseball this year. you immediately started counting the days until practice officially began and told me how you were going to “train” after school. i love your confidence in your ability to teach a sport you’ve never played. girl, you are going places with drive and determination like that. i feel like i’m just lucky to be along for the ride.
i was so fortunate this bright orange glow came in the windows and caught my attention. not only did i almost miss an incredible sunset, but the thing i love seeing most, watching the two of you play together. especially as you get older and start moving towards different interests. i know you’ll always come back together and be friends even as the years go by.
sister, you were so excited that bubba started baseball this year. you immediately started counting the days until practice officially began and told me how you were going to “train” after school. i love your confidence in your ability to teach a sport you’ve never played. girl, you are going places with drive and determination like that. i feel like i’m just lucky to be along for the ride.
"Is he home yet?" by Lauren McAdam
You've always spent your afternoons counting down the minutes for him to come home. Your idol. Your Dad. Lately, with your love of football in full swing, you dress up in head to toe Cat's gear in readiness for the daily kick to kick. Football under your arm, you keep checking at the window hoping to see his ute pulling in. Hurry up Dad!
You've always spent your afternoons counting down the minutes for him to come home. Your idol. Your Dad. Lately, with your love of football in full swing, you dress up in head to toe Cat's gear in readiness for the daily kick to kick. Football under your arm, you keep checking at the window hoping to see his ute pulling in. Hurry up Dad!
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August 2017
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"First Nights" by Rachel Wheeler
We spent close to four years perfectly packed into a one bedroom apartment in New York City where “within arm’s reach” became a natural distance. As we prepared for our move we all had our reservations about leaving the city. But something we never questioned was the opportunity for more space. Space! Room to breath! We all laid our best plans for what it would be like. How we’d arrange things. Who would sleep in what room. Who would lock whom out of their room first. How much fun it would be to have stairs IN our home. What it would be like to play hide ‘n seek with so many places to hide!
Then we arrived. We all went hurriedly through each room, exploring each nook and cranny. “We can use this closet as our hideout!” and “I think the blue room is much better for sleeping than the green room.” Then it grew late and the fun of throwing a million things down those stairs wore off. No one liked getting locked out of their room. And you grew weary of seeking with so many places to hide. And then it was night time. Soon you discovered it’s quiet and dark outside the city. And Mom and Dad had their own room with a door that closed. And hallways feel scary at night.
So we’ve spent these first nights in our four bedroom home like this. Within arm’s reach. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
We spent close to four years perfectly packed into a one bedroom apartment in New York City where “within arm’s reach” became a natural distance. As we prepared for our move we all had our reservations about leaving the city. But something we never questioned was the opportunity for more space. Space! Room to breath! We all laid our best plans for what it would be like. How we’d arrange things. Who would sleep in what room. Who would lock whom out of their room first. How much fun it would be to have stairs IN our home. What it would be like to play hide ‘n seek with so many places to hide!
Then we arrived. We all went hurriedly through each room, exploring each nook and cranny. “We can use this closet as our hideout!” and “I think the blue room is much better for sleeping than the green room.” Then it grew late and the fun of throwing a million things down those stairs wore off. No one liked getting locked out of their room. And you grew weary of seeking with so many places to hide. And then it was night time. Soon you discovered it’s quiet and dark outside the city. And Mom and Dad had their own room with a door that closed. And hallways feel scary at night.
So we’ve spent these first nights in our four bedroom home like this. Within arm’s reach. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“too many cooks in the kitchen” by Snow Cabral
evenings at our house often look something like this… daddy grilling whatever delicious food he’s decided to cook up and you two “helping”. i’m grateful there’s something you enjoy doing together and i love watching you help and ask questions, wanting to learn how to cook too. i’m sure there are times daddy might prefer a little less help, three cooks in one kitchen is kind of a lot, but i know he secretly loves how involved you are. even when you tell him how he should cook and which seasonings to use.
evenings at our house often look something like this… daddy grilling whatever delicious food he’s decided to cook up and you two “helping”. i’m grateful there’s something you enjoy doing together and i love watching you help and ask questions, wanting to learn how to cook too. i’m sure there are times daddy might prefer a little less help, three cooks in one kitchen is kind of a lot, but i know he secretly loves how involved you are. even when you tell him how he should cook and which seasonings to use.
“Time Capsule” by Adrianne Picicci
Stepping into the lake house, where Papa spent his summers as a boy, is like opening a time capsule. All of the original furnishings, curtains, carpeting and fixtures that his Nana Dora so lovingly picked for the home when it was built are still there. For me, being in the house is like walking right into Papa’s memories. Every surface and pattern and texture is a testament to how hard she worked to keep a clean and happy home for her family. I look around and I can imagine Papa there, at the age when summer seems endless. Long days spent swimming and napping under thick twill curtains; breezy evenings gathered around the table with the red and white checkered cloth. So many meals and memories made. How many moments must come flooding back into Papa’s heart when he returns and how special it must be for him to share it now…with you.
Stepping into the lake house, where Papa spent his summers as a boy, is like opening a time capsule. All of the original furnishings, curtains, carpeting and fixtures that his Nana Dora so lovingly picked for the home when it was built are still there. For me, being in the house is like walking right into Papa’s memories. Every surface and pattern and texture is a testament to how hard she worked to keep a clean and happy home for her family. I look around and I can imagine Papa there, at the age when summer seems endless. Long days spent swimming and napping under thick twill curtains; breezy evenings gathered around the table with the red and white checkered cloth. So many meals and memories made. How many moments must come flooding back into Papa’s heart when he returns and how special it must be for him to share it now…with you.
“Back to Me” by Sylvie Grahan
I’ve tried to make our last full week of summer extra special. I’m keenly feeling time slip through my fingers – a series of lasts before school starts up on Monday. Our last lazy morning together, last picnic lunch, last afternoon of building tiny Legos upstairs beside me as I work. Things I love about my time with you. Today it was pouring rain so we went rock climbing. You took to it right away, climbing up the wall a few holds before coming back down. Doing this again and again until you had the holds memorized and could climb beyond the reach of my outstretched arms. It’s a metaphor for parenting, I guess. I release my grip on you a little more each day as you explore and learn about the world around you. Now my grip opens wide as I head back to full time work. I just hope that you eventually come back down to me.
I’ve tried to make our last full week of summer extra special. I’m keenly feeling time slip through my fingers – a series of lasts before school starts up on Monday. Our last lazy morning together, last picnic lunch, last afternoon of building tiny Legos upstairs beside me as I work. Things I love about my time with you. Today it was pouring rain so we went rock climbing. You took to it right away, climbing up the wall a few holds before coming back down. Doing this again and again until you had the holds memorized and could climb beyond the reach of my outstretched arms. It’s a metaphor for parenting, I guess. I release my grip on you a little more each day as you explore and learn about the world around you. Now my grip opens wide as I head back to full time work. I just hope that you eventually come back down to me.
"Out" by Kellie Pribbernow
It's one of your newest words, but one of your oldest desires. It even permeates your speedy delivery once labor began. At our old home, I often felt heavy with guilt when I would gate you into the only play space available, the living room. But in our new home, you have so much more freedom. I still gate you from a room or two when I need to make dinner or rotate laundry. But you have more space to roam and play. And yet you still sense when you are alone on a floor. You aren't quite ready for complete independence on the stairs, so you are again gated out. You wait. And you holler. Out! Out! And you wait some more.
These little symbols of toddlerhood will soon disappear. All the baby things are fading away as quickly as that golden light of sunset. I want to linger, but at the same moment, I long for more of my own independence as you grow. That push and pull and give and take of motherhood. I don't feel guilt about the gates anymore. They'll soon enough be gone, and I'll be left chasing after your shadow as it gets longer and longer right before my eyes. A new day will soon be dawning.
It's one of your newest words, but one of your oldest desires. It even permeates your speedy delivery once labor began. At our old home, I often felt heavy with guilt when I would gate you into the only play space available, the living room. But in our new home, you have so much more freedom. I still gate you from a room or two when I need to make dinner or rotate laundry. But you have more space to roam and play. And yet you still sense when you are alone on a floor. You aren't quite ready for complete independence on the stairs, so you are again gated out. You wait. And you holler. Out! Out! And you wait some more.
These little symbols of toddlerhood will soon disappear. All the baby things are fading away as quickly as that golden light of sunset. I want to linger, but at the same moment, I long for more of my own independence as you grow. That push and pull and give and take of motherhood. I don't feel guilt about the gates anymore. They'll soon enough be gone, and I'll be left chasing after your shadow as it gets longer and longer right before my eyes. A new day will soon be dawning.
"The End of a Love Hate Relationship" by Karlie Austin
You’ve announced that tomorrow, at your yearly ‘back to school haircut’, you would like to cut your hair short. “Below my ears”, you’ve requested. I would be lying if I said my heart didn’t hurt a little at your request. For the past 2 years, since seeing Tangled, you have insisted on having hair like Rapunzel… ‘Long and past my feet’. We’ve made it to your waist.
I never thought that I would become attached to your maze of golden locks. The number of hours I have spent carefully brushing out each tangle, starting at the ends and slowly working my way to the crown of your head, praying each time to avoid causing tears and screams of apparent agony.
I will miss the quiet moments we share while I braid your hair after a bath and the ease of ‘summer braids’. Week old braids who endure your adventures with you and become so much a part of you.
You’ve decided to give your hair away to other children ‘who can’t grow their own’. You will have no problem meeting the 8-inch minimum. As we welcome a new chapter in our lives, I can’t help but feel both sadness and an overwhelming sense of pride.
You’ve announced that tomorrow, at your yearly ‘back to school haircut’, you would like to cut your hair short. “Below my ears”, you’ve requested. I would be lying if I said my heart didn’t hurt a little at your request. For the past 2 years, since seeing Tangled, you have insisted on having hair like Rapunzel… ‘Long and past my feet’. We’ve made it to your waist.
I never thought that I would become attached to your maze of golden locks. The number of hours I have spent carefully brushing out each tangle, starting at the ends and slowly working my way to the crown of your head, praying each time to avoid causing tears and screams of apparent agony.
I will miss the quiet moments we share while I braid your hair after a bath and the ease of ‘summer braids’. Week old braids who endure your adventures with you and become so much a part of you.
You’ve decided to give your hair away to other children ‘who can’t grow their own’. You will have no problem meeting the 8-inch minimum. As we welcome a new chapter in our lives, I can’t help but feel both sadness and an overwhelming sense of pride.
"The Slide of Memories" by Kristin Rutherford
This is your place. The place that you both always want to be. In the two summers we have been coming to this wonderful campgrounds, you have made this home. This is the place that I have sat and watched the two of you grow. It’s hard to believe how fast you are both growing up. It makes me choke back tears when I think about it. Hannah you will start kindergarten next month!! I remember when you were a baby sitting rocking you, how far away that seemed. But it is here, like a blink of an eye. Lexi, last summer you were just toddling around this playground, being carried most of the time. This was your first time going down the big pirate ship slide. You were so excited and proud of yourself. To see the joy in your heart makes everything else in the world just go away. Of course, Hannah is there to make sure that you are safe. The love that the two of your share shines through in almost everything you do. I wish I had a sister that I could share that with. I am so thankful that you have each other.
This is your place. The place that you both always want to be. In the two summers we have been coming to this wonderful campgrounds, you have made this home. This is the place that I have sat and watched the two of you grow. It’s hard to believe how fast you are both growing up. It makes me choke back tears when I think about it. Hannah you will start kindergarten next month!! I remember when you were a baby sitting rocking you, how far away that seemed. But it is here, like a blink of an eye. Lexi, last summer you were just toddling around this playground, being carried most of the time. This was your first time going down the big pirate ship slide. You were so excited and proud of yourself. To see the joy in your heart makes everything else in the world just go away. Of course, Hannah is there to make sure that you are safe. The love that the two of your share shines through in almost everything you do. I wish I had a sister that I could share that with. I am so thankful that you have each other.
“the transition” by Megan Millsop
i thought i was ready. or that perhaps it wasn't a big deal. so what that you're done with preschool and now with summer kindergarten camp. so what you'll begin kindergarten next month. next. month. then we got the envelope in the mail. it had your teacher's website. it had a school supply list. it had lunch payment information. all of these things are new to me. they have recently brought me some anxiety if i'm being honest. you will no longer ever be a preschooler. this, in fact, is a big deal. you will be in school all day, 5 days a week. what if you're bullied? what if you bully someone else? what if you don't like your teacher? what if you can't keep up with your lessons? will you have homework so soon? you are 5 and a half and ready for what you perceive of school based upon your limited experience thus far. anxiety on my part does us no good. this is an exercise in coping with change and preparedness for the both of us. life continues to move forward for you and i have to steady my heart so that i can be there for you, no matter what may come from this new chapter.
i thought i was ready. or that perhaps it wasn't a big deal. so what that you're done with preschool and now with summer kindergarten camp. so what you'll begin kindergarten next month. next. month. then we got the envelope in the mail. it had your teacher's website. it had a school supply list. it had lunch payment information. all of these things are new to me. they have recently brought me some anxiety if i'm being honest. you will no longer ever be a preschooler. this, in fact, is a big deal. you will be in school all day, 5 days a week. what if you're bullied? what if you bully someone else? what if you don't like your teacher? what if you can't keep up with your lessons? will you have homework so soon? you are 5 and a half and ready for what you perceive of school based upon your limited experience thus far. anxiety on my part does us no good. this is an exercise in coping with change and preparedness for the both of us. life continues to move forward for you and i have to steady my heart so that i can be there for you, no matter what may come from this new chapter.
"Brotherhood Bond" by Mandy Benoit
My Anthony, your bond with "Baby Leo" is so beautiful to me. When he was born, I knew how I felt. I knew my love would grow for him daily like it does for you, Lucy, & Kate. I love seeing how his birth affects you, and being surprised by it. You rush in each morning to see if Leo is up. You hang out with him when you see that he's been left by himself. You always give him a hug and a kiss. This makes me so very happy.
My Anthony, your bond with "Baby Leo" is so beautiful to me. When he was born, I knew how I felt. I knew my love would grow for him daily like it does for you, Lucy, & Kate. I love seeing how his birth affects you, and being surprised by it. You rush in each morning to see if Leo is up. You hang out with him when you see that he's been left by himself. You always give him a hug and a kiss. This makes me so very happy.
"Thirteen" by Kellie Llewellyn
These two are cousins born 2 days apart. I can remember the call I got from my sister-in-law saying she was pregnant and terrified to tell her mom. I can also remember the call from her saying that at her OB appointment, the doctor examined her and could feel Ava’s feet and that she was to go check in to the OB unit to get a cesarean that day. You were terrified and in your car talking to me and sobbing, the baby was coming almost a month early. I was excited and jealous. I was due before you with my first baby and you were going to meet yours that day. Fast forward 13 years to the day and our girls are teenagers, growing into young ladies right before our eyes, yet those memories are still vivid in my mind.
These two are cousins born 2 days apart. I can remember the call I got from my sister-in-law saying she was pregnant and terrified to tell her mom. I can also remember the call from her saying that at her OB appointment, the doctor examined her and could feel Ava’s feet and that she was to go check in to the OB unit to get a cesarean that day. You were terrified and in your car talking to me and sobbing, the baby was coming almost a month early. I was excited and jealous. I was due before you with my first baby and you were going to meet yours that day. Fast forward 13 years to the day and our girls are teenagers, growing into young ladies right before our eyes, yet those memories are still vivid in my mind.
"making waves" by Heather Robinson
i worried excessively as a kid. at night when it was time to say my prayers and my “god blesses”, i felt stressed fearing that i might forget someone or that i might not pray hard enough or long enough and therefore my prayers would go unanswered.
i spent the longest on my prayer for my daddy. and of course that prayer never got answered. this didn’t help my anxious demeanor. no, on the contrary it made me feel even more uneasy about life. i wish i could say that adulthood cured me of this torment. but the opposite is true.
now with you though, i don’t quite get it. i wonder why you have been cursed with this same distress. it isn’t because you have had a hard life filled with sickness or loss. i don’t feel like i have unloaded my worries on you. but maybe i have done so unknowingly. perhaps i passed it on to you as i grew you inside of me. whatever the reason, you carry on this plight. you fear everything. especially that which is unknown. so i encourage you to try new things. but i can’t push you too hard because this only provokes you. sometimes though we have to make waves. it is the waves that move us along.
you didn’t want to go for a ride on the boat today. your shoes weren’t tight enough. you scraped your leg on a stick in the grass. there were bees buzzing near the dock. the life vest was too snug around your neck. everything was wrong.
but then daddy asked if you would help him drive the boat. you looked at him in disbelief. a smile began creeping across your lips. but then it vanished and you said with a furrowed brow, “i don’t know how to do that. i might do the wrong thing. i might make us crash.” i nudged you forward telling you that daddy would be there the whole time to keep you safe. you slowly made your way to the driver’s seat and placed your hands on the steering wheel. after a few minutes of driving slow, steady, and straight, i told daddy to let you really move us. so he pushed the throttle and told you to turn us around. the wind danced wildly in your hair and there was nothing stopping that smile. i basked in your freedom while you feasted on the waves that you had just made.
i worried excessively as a kid. at night when it was time to say my prayers and my “god blesses”, i felt stressed fearing that i might forget someone or that i might not pray hard enough or long enough and therefore my prayers would go unanswered.
i spent the longest on my prayer for my daddy. and of course that prayer never got answered. this didn’t help my anxious demeanor. no, on the contrary it made me feel even more uneasy about life. i wish i could say that adulthood cured me of this torment. but the opposite is true.
now with you though, i don’t quite get it. i wonder why you have been cursed with this same distress. it isn’t because you have had a hard life filled with sickness or loss. i don’t feel like i have unloaded my worries on you. but maybe i have done so unknowingly. perhaps i passed it on to you as i grew you inside of me. whatever the reason, you carry on this plight. you fear everything. especially that which is unknown. so i encourage you to try new things. but i can’t push you too hard because this only provokes you. sometimes though we have to make waves. it is the waves that move us along.
you didn’t want to go for a ride on the boat today. your shoes weren’t tight enough. you scraped your leg on a stick in the grass. there were bees buzzing near the dock. the life vest was too snug around your neck. everything was wrong.
but then daddy asked if you would help him drive the boat. you looked at him in disbelief. a smile began creeping across your lips. but then it vanished and you said with a furrowed brow, “i don’t know how to do that. i might do the wrong thing. i might make us crash.” i nudged you forward telling you that daddy would be there the whole time to keep you safe. you slowly made your way to the driver’s seat and placed your hands on the steering wheel. after a few minutes of driving slow, steady, and straight, i told daddy to let you really move us. so he pushed the throttle and told you to turn us around. the wind danced wildly in your hair and there was nothing stopping that smile. i basked in your freedom while you feasted on the waves that you had just made.
'It's all about the love' by Lauren McAdam
Whilst driving home from school today you said to me, "Is Mia our family?" "No, she's just a great friend." I answered. Your sister piped up, "It's about the love. If you love someone it means they're your family". I told you both that you can love friends too. "Yeah because I love Cooper and he's my friend AND I love Spencer and he is my friend AND I love Tom and he is my friend!" Watching you wave goodbye to your school friend this afternoon made me think about the friends you will have during your life time. Will these first great mates stay with you or will time and different schools in the future drift you apart? I hope you are lucky enough to know what it's like to have wonderful friends around you like your Dad and I do. That's all I wish for you my sweet boy.
Whilst driving home from school today you said to me, "Is Mia our family?" "No, she's just a great friend." I answered. Your sister piped up, "It's about the love. If you love someone it means they're your family". I told you both that you can love friends too. "Yeah because I love Cooper and he's my friend AND I love Spencer and he is my friend AND I love Tom and he is my friend!" Watching you wave goodbye to your school friend this afternoon made me think about the friends you will have during your life time. Will these first great mates stay with you or will time and different schools in the future drift you apart? I hope you are lucky enough to know what it's like to have wonderful friends around you like your Dad and I do. That's all I wish for you my sweet boy.
"Perspective" by Stephanie Bieniarz
Yep, you found me. trying to take a self portrait for yet another photography class. I thought i could get to this assignment quickly without interruption, but nope. I sometimes want to lock myself in a room, or run down the block for more than 5 square feet of personal space, but you all still need me. Its like I'm the sun and you're my little solar system revolving around my every movement, sometimes distant sometimes eclipsing. But I know even now sandwiched between 2 of the 4 of you dear ones that someday I'll be truly alone in this portrait. You won't be there to fill in the space between my hand and my heart. Don't worry though, my dear ones. I won't be lonely, and my love for you stems from a greater Love that I cannot lose. But I do love each of you so incredibly much. And the task of getting you out of my orbit and into adulthood as a beautiful, kind and responsible grown ups is a big job and sometimes this lens gives me perspective beyond 35mm in these moments.
Yep, you found me. trying to take a self portrait for yet another photography class. I thought i could get to this assignment quickly without interruption, but nope. I sometimes want to lock myself in a room, or run down the block for more than 5 square feet of personal space, but you all still need me. Its like I'm the sun and you're my little solar system revolving around my every movement, sometimes distant sometimes eclipsing. But I know even now sandwiched between 2 of the 4 of you dear ones that someday I'll be truly alone in this portrait. You won't be there to fill in the space between my hand and my heart. Don't worry though, my dear ones. I won't be lonely, and my love for you stems from a greater Love that I cannot lose. But I do love each of you so incredibly much. And the task of getting you out of my orbit and into adulthood as a beautiful, kind and responsible grown ups is a big job and sometimes this lens gives me perspective beyond 35mm in these moments.
“The Kitchen Window” by Kendra Knaggs
Some photos live within us. The paper and ink are simple passageways to memories that are felt more than remembered. Sometimes when I raise my camera to my eye I am trying to trigger a memory in you both twenty, thirty, forty years from now of a time or a feeling or a person.
I know this is how you will remember Pops. You watch him on his mower. You pretend to cut the grass behind him, ride with him, run from him, eat his Timbits and just stand close watching. And he spends that same time marvelling at you two little wonders. To him you are a breath of fresh air. You are a smile. You are a reminder. You are everything that is sweet, simple, and beautiful in this life. You live within him as he and everyone you love lives within you. The photo will help you remember what is so easily forgotten.
Some photos live within us. The paper and ink are simple passageways to memories that are felt more than remembered. Sometimes when I raise my camera to my eye I am trying to trigger a memory in you both twenty, thirty, forty years from now of a time or a feeling or a person.
I know this is how you will remember Pops. You watch him on his mower. You pretend to cut the grass behind him, ride with him, run from him, eat his Timbits and just stand close watching. And he spends that same time marvelling at you two little wonders. To him you are a breath of fresh air. You are a smile. You are a reminder. You are everything that is sweet, simple, and beautiful in this life. You live within him as he and everyone you love lives within you. The photo will help you remember what is so easily forgotten.
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July 2017
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"Grandma" by Angela Douglas
A grandmother’s hug is like no other. These beach house days we spend with you are some of my most treasured moments. My children look forward to our week’s year with you learning to crab and eating cake for breakfast.
A grandmother’s hug is like no other. These beach house days we spend with you are some of my most treasured moments. My children look forward to our week’s year with you learning to crab and eating cake for breakfast.
"Mirror Image" by Karlie Austin
Right when I didn't think you could be any more like me I glanced down and there on your cheek, mirror image to mine, were your freckles.
It's such a gift to become a parent. Even more so raising a child who is like you in almost every possible way. I know your fears and your joys. I know how scary it can be to fall asleep in your room alone. I understand how crowded spaces can make you feel uncertain. How creating grounds you and brings you peace.
I’ve read that children choose the parents they want or need for this lifetime. Such an interesting concept. The more I think about it, the more it feels like our truth.
Who better to understand your little quirks than a mama who has the same ones.
There are definitely challenges that come with raising yourself, but the rewards seem endless. I would have never anticipated in becoming your mama the self-love and understanding you would give me.
Right when I didn't think you could be any more like me I glanced down and there on your cheek, mirror image to mine, were your freckles.
It's such a gift to become a parent. Even more so raising a child who is like you in almost every possible way. I know your fears and your joys. I know how scary it can be to fall asleep in your room alone. I understand how crowded spaces can make you feel uncertain. How creating grounds you and brings you peace.
I’ve read that children choose the parents they want or need for this lifetime. Such an interesting concept. The more I think about it, the more it feels like our truth.
Who better to understand your little quirks than a mama who has the same ones.
There are definitely challenges that come with raising yourself, but the rewards seem endless. I would have never anticipated in becoming your mama the self-love and understanding you would give me.
"this is enough" by Heather Robinson
i sometimes feel guilty for not using my skills to change the world. instead i photograph you. our little world. and then i find myself worrying that maybe our world is too little. perhaps i need to give you more of the bigger world around us. but then i see you in that soft morning light happily teaching your kitten how to pick a nose and i feel okay. okay with all of it. my place in this world. your place in it. how we fit together in this space. one day you will leave this space and i will have to reevaluate things. perhaps then i can give more to the rest of the world. but for now, this is enough.
i sometimes feel guilty for not using my skills to change the world. instead i photograph you. our little world. and then i find myself worrying that maybe our world is too little. perhaps i need to give you more of the bigger world around us. but then i see you in that soft morning light happily teaching your kitten how to pick a nose and i feel okay. okay with all of it. my place in this world. your place in it. how we fit together in this space. one day you will leave this space and i will have to reevaluate things. perhaps then i can give more to the rest of the world. but for now, this is enough.
“The Game” by Kendra Knaggs
Finally. We got you to a game. It was just supposed to be you but as happens a lot these days your brother tagged along. Sorry. And not sorry too because you are developing a great little friendship. But we do owe you some more individual time.
But the game, oh the game. It is quite something to share with your children the things that you love. And this was it. Daddy loved this. Me too. Before you two, even before we met each other, we both loved going to games and it is something we hope you will love too. You guys were very good considering it happens exactly at naptime. Indy caught his foot in the chair. You wanted to run and run in the halls. You ate way too much popcorn and ice cream and I didn’t plan well with the water situation. But the Jays pulled it off and the game was a win.
And then we watched you run the bases. I wasn’t sure you would do. In my heart of hearts I hoped you would. And you did. You soared. And it lifted our hearts so very high.
Finally. We got you to a game. It was just supposed to be you but as happens a lot these days your brother tagged along. Sorry. And not sorry too because you are developing a great little friendship. But we do owe you some more individual time.
But the game, oh the game. It is quite something to share with your children the things that you love. And this was it. Daddy loved this. Me too. Before you two, even before we met each other, we both loved going to games and it is something we hope you will love too. You guys were very good considering it happens exactly at naptime. Indy caught his foot in the chair. You wanted to run and run in the halls. You ate way too much popcorn and ice cream and I didn’t plan well with the water situation. But the Jays pulled it off and the game was a win.
And then we watched you run the bases. I wasn’t sure you would do. In my heart of hearts I hoped you would. And you did. You soared. And it lifted our hearts so very high.
“The First” by Sylvie Grahan
You were the first, rescued from the small-town streets when I was barely two weeks into my first year teaching middle school in rural Mississippi. That first night I scratched the back of your neck and you tucked your head into my body as we sat on the kitchen floor. Despite your general disdain for most people, ever after you were fiercely protective of me. You have always been my dog. All my roommates despised you; likely it was your piercing bark whenever they entered my presence that did them in. Of course, you never cared. But you took to Brian right away, chasing him up and down the halls of my small Madison apartment building – your game with him. Even if I didn’t know he was a keeper, you did. But the boys. You never knew what to think, always giving them a wide berth. Mostly indifferent, although occasionally incredulous that you now vied for my attention.
Today we said goodbye; to the dog who would follow in my wake nosing the back of my knees until I relented and filled her dish; to the feisty pup that chewed through the gearshift of my car and had our 90-pound beast of a puppy bowed to her will within minutes; to the one who would bark indiscriminately at everyone, spit-shine our floors after every meal, and couldn’t walk 10 feet without stopping to sniff. When I miss you, I’m going to close my eyes and dream of you flying through the air chasing a soccer ball through my Mississippi backyard. And remember you. Always.
You were the first, rescued from the small-town streets when I was barely two weeks into my first year teaching middle school in rural Mississippi. That first night I scratched the back of your neck and you tucked your head into my body as we sat on the kitchen floor. Despite your general disdain for most people, ever after you were fiercely protective of me. You have always been my dog. All my roommates despised you; likely it was your piercing bark whenever they entered my presence that did them in. Of course, you never cared. But you took to Brian right away, chasing him up and down the halls of my small Madison apartment building – your game with him. Even if I didn’t know he was a keeper, you did. But the boys. You never knew what to think, always giving them a wide berth. Mostly indifferent, although occasionally incredulous that you now vied for my attention.
Today we said goodbye; to the dog who would follow in my wake nosing the back of my knees until I relented and filled her dish; to the feisty pup that chewed through the gearshift of my car and had our 90-pound beast of a puppy bowed to her will within minutes; to the one who would bark indiscriminately at everyone, spit-shine our floors after every meal, and couldn’t walk 10 feet without stopping to sniff. When I miss you, I’m going to close my eyes and dream of you flying through the air chasing a soccer ball through my Mississippi backyard. And remember you. Always.
“she soon turns three” by Megan Millsop
your big emotions surface more now. soon you will be three years old. as we enter into this new phase, a part of me wishes to keep you here. the way you speak. the way you play. the way you love. where your sweet nature isn't stifled by the bigger world you'll soon enter into. but i know you yearn for more. and i also want more for you. you are eager to learn and surprise me every day with something new. while you take in the novelties that will soon surround you, i keep faith that you will also retain a few of these traits that are so undoubtedly you.
your big emotions surface more now. soon you will be three years old. as we enter into this new phase, a part of me wishes to keep you here. the way you speak. the way you play. the way you love. where your sweet nature isn't stifled by the bigger world you'll soon enter into. but i know you yearn for more. and i also want more for you. you are eager to learn and surprise me every day with something new. while you take in the novelties that will soon surround you, i keep faith that you will also retain a few of these traits that are so undoubtedly you.
"Different" by Erin Wood
Normally, on vacation, I have tons of photographs of you. I have shots of you on the paddleboard smiling out at me. I have shots of you digging on the beach. This year is different. You are thirteen. You shy away from my camera. You are with your friends at the lake as often as possible. Gone are the days where I have to chase after you around the beach to make sure you are safe. Gone are the days where you beg me to swim out to the dock with you one last time! Gone are the days when you want me to dig with you in the sand or play a game of paddleboard. Instead, I see your back in the kayak as you paddle out to the middle of the lake with your brother and your friends to go fishing. I never knew last summer would be the last summer you would ask me to join you on the kayak. Things are different in this season of life. I know you love me just as much. And I know I love you as much, if not more, than I ever have. Just be patient with me when I pull out the camera to take a picture. I want to savor this time as well. Because, someday when you’re off in the world on your own, I will be saying......I never knew that was the last time you were paddling out to go fishing with your friends at the lake.
Normally, on vacation, I have tons of photographs of you. I have shots of you on the paddleboard smiling out at me. I have shots of you digging on the beach. This year is different. You are thirteen. You shy away from my camera. You are with your friends at the lake as often as possible. Gone are the days where I have to chase after you around the beach to make sure you are safe. Gone are the days where you beg me to swim out to the dock with you one last time! Gone are the days when you want me to dig with you in the sand or play a game of paddleboard. Instead, I see your back in the kayak as you paddle out to the middle of the lake with your brother and your friends to go fishing. I never knew last summer would be the last summer you would ask me to join you on the kayak. Things are different in this season of life. I know you love me just as much. And I know I love you as much, if not more, than I ever have. Just be patient with me when I pull out the camera to take a picture. I want to savor this time as well. Because, someday when you’re off in the world on your own, I will be saying......I never knew that was the last time you were paddling out to go fishing with your friends at the lake.
"Only Four" by Debbie Deonier
You’re only 4. Sometimes I forget that because you’re almost the same size as your sister, who is 6. You’re at the stage where you still need help with a few things but more and more you are telling me that you can do it by yourself and that you need to learn how to do things on your own. While I agree with you, I am having a hard time letting go and giving you that independence you so desire. After all, you’re only 4.
You’re only 4. Sometimes I forget that because you’re almost the same size as your sister, who is 6. You’re at the stage where you still need help with a few things but more and more you are telling me that you can do it by yourself and that you need to learn how to do things on your own. While I agree with you, I am having a hard time letting go and giving you that independence you so desire. After all, you’re only 4.
"Something for you" by Lauren McAdam
You were so excited, counting down the sleeps. Finally something for you. You've watched your brother go to his own activities and you've been asking to learn ballet for way too long. You're first day came and I was so proud watching you happily join in with the other girls you didn't know. You couldn't have looked sweeter as a ballerina, your little soft tutu and hair in a tiny bun. As you skipped out of the ballet studio you grabbed my hand and said, "And I've already made a best friend!"
You were so excited, counting down the sleeps. Finally something for you. You've watched your brother go to his own activities and you've been asking to learn ballet for way too long. You're first day came and I was so proud watching you happily join in with the other girls you didn't know. You couldn't have looked sweeter as a ballerina, your little soft tutu and hair in a tiny bun. As you skipped out of the ballet studio you grabbed my hand and said, "And I've already made a best friend!"
“extraordinary in an ordinary summer night” by Heather Tully
I didn't want to let go of this summer night. nothing overall special- dinner, time spent in prayer for Uncle Lorimer & his family as they battle cancer and then taking everyone outside to run off some extra energy. the oldest four children played Bat-mitten till it was almost dark. I brought you younger ones in because we were being eaten by bugs and I just soaked in hearing you play in the tub. nothing extraordinary and yet... it was exactly that.
I didn't want to let go of this summer night. nothing overall special- dinner, time spent in prayer for Uncle Lorimer & his family as they battle cancer and then taking everyone outside to run off some extra energy. the oldest four children played Bat-mitten till it was almost dark. I brought you younger ones in because we were being eaten by bugs and I just soaked in hearing you play in the tub. nothing extraordinary and yet... it was exactly that.
“summer daze” by Snow Cabral
I feel as though this summer has gone by quickly and yet it also hasn’t. There’s been time and space to linger and slow down. We’ve spent most of it at home, right here by the pool, soaking in the warm sun and long days.
Sometimes I feel guilty, wondering if we did enough. Especially when I’m reminded that many of your school friends have attended summer camps and had play dates together. I hope it doesn’t bother you when you go back to school and hear about everyone else’s summer, playing the comparison game.
If you ask me, there is no comparison.
Nowhere I’d rather be… than right here at home spending time with you my loves.
I feel as though this summer has gone by quickly and yet it also hasn’t. There’s been time and space to linger and slow down. We’ve spent most of it at home, right here by the pool, soaking in the warm sun and long days.
Sometimes I feel guilty, wondering if we did enough. Especially when I’m reminded that many of your school friends have attended summer camps and had play dates together. I hope it doesn’t bother you when you go back to school and hear about everyone else’s summer, playing the comparison game.
If you ask me, there is no comparison.
Nowhere I’d rather be… than right here at home spending time with you my loves.
"Happy Camp" by Kristen Rutherford
This is your place. The place that you would choose over anywhere to go to. The place that you have spent so many summer nights, playing by The River with family. You are in your element here. This is the place you caught your first fish, learned how to clean with aunt donna, sweep with uncle mark, and many nights preformed on the “stage” for anyone and everyone that would watch. The name of this came is so fitting, it truly brings so much happiness to everyone who comes there. Here you are, where you have sat so many times, but so much has changed. You are growing bigger in so many ways. But, here in this place, you love to play games and be free. Whether it is pie in the face, wet head, bean boozled, or like here, a candy challenge, you cannot help to feel the joy and happiness of your childhood.
This is your place. The place that you would choose over anywhere to go to. The place that you have spent so many summer nights, playing by The River with family. You are in your element here. This is the place you caught your first fish, learned how to clean with aunt donna, sweep with uncle mark, and many nights preformed on the “stage” for anyone and everyone that would watch. The name of this came is so fitting, it truly brings so much happiness to everyone who comes there. Here you are, where you have sat so many times, but so much has changed. You are growing bigger in so many ways. But, here in this place, you love to play games and be free. Whether it is pie in the face, wet head, bean boozled, or like here, a candy challenge, you cannot help to feel the joy and happiness of your childhood.
"Our Place" by Rachel Wheeler
I took the artwork off all the doors in the apartment. It's strange. One minute things look like home. The next minute it doesn't. If I close my eyes though I can see it all and we can look through our pictures and remember us. Here. Our giggles, our tantrums, our meals, our projects, our bedtime snuggles, our celebrations, our sicknesses, our love. The doors are bare but the space is full. Bursting with memories of us. All our things are moving but we’re here. In a way, we always will be.
I took the artwork off all the doors in the apartment. It's strange. One minute things look like home. The next minute it doesn't. If I close my eyes though I can see it all and we can look through our pictures and remember us. Here. Our giggles, our tantrums, our meals, our projects, our bedtime snuggles, our celebrations, our sicknesses, our love. The doors are bare but the space is full. Bursting with memories of us. All our things are moving but we’re here. In a way, we always will be.
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June 2017
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“Soon Enough” by Mandy Benoit
Right now, I’m caught in between savoring this time with you, our last baby, and pushing through to the freedom that’s ahead, when my body is my own. I reach forward to going away for a couple of nights with your dad, with no pump along for the ride… Though in the very same moment that I long for this, I know my heart will be breaking… Because the moments where you are nestled against me, as I feed you, detaching your little mouth from me, grinning with your entire face, and sticking your tongue out at me, will likely have passed. Those moments burn themselves into the walls of my soul, they fill my life with joy & meaning, and shaped me into the woman I am now. I yearn for more personal space, but my heart breaks because the part of my life, that completely revolves around you in so many ways is wrapping up. I know personal space will be here soon enough, but will it be sharing a room with a broken heart?
Right now, I’m caught in between savoring this time with you, our last baby, and pushing through to the freedom that’s ahead, when my body is my own. I reach forward to going away for a couple of nights with your dad, with no pump along for the ride… Though in the very same moment that I long for this, I know my heart will be breaking… Because the moments where you are nestled against me, as I feed you, detaching your little mouth from me, grinning with your entire face, and sticking your tongue out at me, will likely have passed. Those moments burn themselves into the walls of my soul, they fill my life with joy & meaning, and shaped me into the woman I am now. I yearn for more personal space, but my heart breaks because the part of my life, that completely revolves around you in so many ways is wrapping up. I know personal space will be here soon enough, but will it be sharing a room with a broken heart?
"First Kiss" by Abigail Fahey
Last Friday when I collected you from school you approached me with a strange look on your face. When I enquired what was wrong you replied, “Mum, something happened today”,
“What” I asked curiously
“It’s going to sound a bit weird when I tell you”, You said
“What?”, I asked again even more intrigued.
After a pause you said, “I kissed a girl today”
A tiny smile formed on your face and I tried to disguise any form of reaction so as not to discourage you from talking further.
“I didn’t mean to, it just kind of happened, I asked her over to whisper something in her ear and then I kissed her!”
“What did she do?” I asked
“I don’t know”, you replied, “I ran away before she could do anything”
“How do you feel?, Do you think you might like this girl?’ I enquired,
“Yes”, You replied, “Yes, I think I do!”
I was honestly not expecting to be the first person you would tell after having your very first encounter like this but I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to me that I was. I am filled with admiration for your bold step towards adulthood and I feel immensely privileged that you trusted me enough to talk openly about this experience. What I dearly want is that we can always be this open and honest with each other. That we can always have the courage to tell each other what is in our heart despite it sounding ‘a bit weird’.
Last Friday when I collected you from school you approached me with a strange look on your face. When I enquired what was wrong you replied, “Mum, something happened today”,
“What” I asked curiously
“It’s going to sound a bit weird when I tell you”, You said
“What?”, I asked again even more intrigued.
After a pause you said, “I kissed a girl today”
A tiny smile formed on your face and I tried to disguise any form of reaction so as not to discourage you from talking further.
“I didn’t mean to, it just kind of happened, I asked her over to whisper something in her ear and then I kissed her!”
“What did she do?” I asked
“I don’t know”, you replied, “I ran away before she could do anything”
“How do you feel?, Do you think you might like this girl?’ I enquired,
“Yes”, You replied, “Yes, I think I do!”
I was honestly not expecting to be the first person you would tell after having your very first encounter like this but I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to me that I was. I am filled with admiration for your bold step towards adulthood and I feel immensely privileged that you trusted me enough to talk openly about this experience. What I dearly want is that we can always be this open and honest with each other. That we can always have the courage to tell each other what is in our heart despite it sounding ‘a bit weird’.
“Absence Makes the Heart Grow” by Adrianne Picicci
You don’t like to be more than a few feet away from your mama. The anxiety this causes seems to be increasing, working its way more frequently into your little heart. We took you to daycare for the first time during the month of May, while daddy and I taught summer school. Your teachers said you cried a lot or just sat quietly on your own for several days. It broke my heart to think of you, in tiny pigtails with yellow rubber bands, trying to make sense of this unfamiliar new space. Summer school has ended and we have been in Oregon for a week of our vacation already, but those days of separation seem to be affecting you more than I realized. You cry if I leave the room, even for a moment. The sudden absence floods your head and heart with emotions too big to yet understand. I wish you could see that no wall or window can diminish how much you are loved. I will always want to come back to you, to hear your “hiiiiiiiiiiiiii, mama!” as I scoop you up and lay your eager head against my chest. The sound of my heart soothes you, one steady beat at a time, until your courage is restored. You are still small and the world is very big, it’s true, but mama’s love for you is much much bigger.
You don’t like to be more than a few feet away from your mama. The anxiety this causes seems to be increasing, working its way more frequently into your little heart. We took you to daycare for the first time during the month of May, while daddy and I taught summer school. Your teachers said you cried a lot or just sat quietly on your own for several days. It broke my heart to think of you, in tiny pigtails with yellow rubber bands, trying to make sense of this unfamiliar new space. Summer school has ended and we have been in Oregon for a week of our vacation already, but those days of separation seem to be affecting you more than I realized. You cry if I leave the room, even for a moment. The sudden absence floods your head and heart with emotions too big to yet understand. I wish you could see that no wall or window can diminish how much you are loved. I will always want to come back to you, to hear your “hiiiiiiiiiiiiii, mama!” as I scoop you up and lay your eager head against my chest. The sound of my heart soothes you, one steady beat at a time, until your courage is restored. You are still small and the world is very big, it’s true, but mama’s love for you is much much bigger.
“surrender” by Heather Tully
this body of mine has done this eleven times and by God's grace, we will welcome you, Timothy, as our tenth child here on earth. for the fourth straight pregnancy, I've battled severe anemia & needed iron transfusions. surrender is something God has been showing me a lot of. I'm often tired & have to rest here. it's hard to let go. hard to miss out on doing so much, being the mama I imagine I need to be. but it's also hard to want to close this chapter- being pregnant or nursing has almost been apart of my entire married life.
but more than pregnancy & babies, I love being a mama; I love getting to know each of you and be apart of your journey. and it is time to focus on that, to strengthen my body to better serve my family. you, sweet Timothy, will be my last pregnancy. there's moments when that makes me sad but also moments of excitement too. I know I'll miss these days, even though they're mixed in with hard times, so I'm soaking it all in. God directs our steps & our plans are often not His, so while Daddy & I talk about the future, we do so with humility, waiting to see what will unfold. gets back to that surrender thing.
this body of mine has done this eleven times and by God's grace, we will welcome you, Timothy, as our tenth child here on earth. for the fourth straight pregnancy, I've battled severe anemia & needed iron transfusions. surrender is something God has been showing me a lot of. I'm often tired & have to rest here. it's hard to let go. hard to miss out on doing so much, being the mama I imagine I need to be. but it's also hard to want to close this chapter- being pregnant or nursing has almost been apart of my entire married life.
but more than pregnancy & babies, I love being a mama; I love getting to know each of you and be apart of your journey. and it is time to focus on that, to strengthen my body to better serve my family. you, sweet Timothy, will be my last pregnancy. there's moments when that makes me sad but also moments of excitement too. I know I'll miss these days, even though they're mixed in with hard times, so I'm soaking it all in. God directs our steps & our plans are often not His, so while Daddy & I talk about the future, we do so with humility, waiting to see what will unfold. gets back to that surrender thing.
"Families are Forever" by Rachel Wheeler
Last Christmas Santa blew off my no pets policy and gave you kids a fishbowl. We all came up with a plan to go to the pet store on 86th and pick out a sweet little goldfish. But when we got there and brother discovered that goldfish were in fact gold, and not blue, we had a situation. You wanted gold and brother wanted blue. Your mom and dad wanted chuck the whole idea mid.public.meltdowns and just go home. Santa's little helper at the store whispered to me, "We just got a new box of fish, let me see what we've got." She emerged with the most delicate feathery little fish freshly painted in blue and gold. You both stopped, wiped your tears and lifted your heads from our chests. Little smiles came across your faces. "It's like a JEWEL!" you said. And brother added, "It's BLUE!" You named him Goldie. Brother named him Bluey. Mom and Dad tricked you both into naming him Boldie. That was a year and a half ago. And how we love him still.
***
Today we laid our first family pet atop a bed of pom poms in a very dazzling jewel, feather and sequin covered box. We buried him in the soft earth next to a grand tree in a very secret spot in Central Park. He was accompanied by a note that said, “I wish you didn’t die, Boldie. I will miss you and I love you. I know I will see you again because families are forever.”
Last Christmas Santa blew off my no pets policy and gave you kids a fishbowl. We all came up with a plan to go to the pet store on 86th and pick out a sweet little goldfish. But when we got there and brother discovered that goldfish were in fact gold, and not blue, we had a situation. You wanted gold and brother wanted blue. Your mom and dad wanted chuck the whole idea mid.public.meltdowns and just go home. Santa's little helper at the store whispered to me, "We just got a new box of fish, let me see what we've got." She emerged with the most delicate feathery little fish freshly painted in blue and gold. You both stopped, wiped your tears and lifted your heads from our chests. Little smiles came across your faces. "It's like a JEWEL!" you said. And brother added, "It's BLUE!" You named him Goldie. Brother named him Bluey. Mom and Dad tricked you both into naming him Boldie. That was a year and a half ago. And how we love him still.
***
Today we laid our first family pet atop a bed of pom poms in a very dazzling jewel, feather and sequin covered box. We buried him in the soft earth next to a grand tree in a very secret spot in Central Park. He was accompanied by a note that said, “I wish you didn’t die, Boldie. I will miss you and I love you. I know I will see you again because families are forever.”
"the grass is always greener" by Heather Robinson
i have been in an awful funk for days. weeks really. wishing to be somewhere else. anywhere but here. so we go. we go in search of some place that feels right to me. we head to the mountains. we visit the river. we journey to the ocean. and then back to the mountains again. and again. but it only makes me more anxious. is this really how i want to spend these precious days of summer? in constant yearning for what i can’t have? today i sat in the dirt and disconnected my lens as i watched you play in the greenest of grasses. for a moment i finally felt content. and to think it happened right here in my own yard.
i have been in an awful funk for days. weeks really. wishing to be somewhere else. anywhere but here. so we go. we go in search of some place that feels right to me. we head to the mountains. we visit the river. we journey to the ocean. and then back to the mountains again. and again. but it only makes me more anxious. is this really how i want to spend these precious days of summer? in constant yearning for what i can’t have? today i sat in the dirt and disconnected my lens as i watched you play in the greenest of grasses. for a moment i finally felt content. and to think it happened right here in my own yard.
“Enough” by Sylvie Grahan
We rarely get long quiet moments together. You’re the second. And often, you’re too busy soaking in the world. But when I wake you from nap and you curl your sweaty face into my body, I bury my nose into your silky gingerbread-scented hair and try to memorize the details: the curl of your long dark lashes, your baby scent still drowsy from sleep, the way you rub the label of your blanket under your nose to comfort yourself, your weight in my lap. And somehow, it is enough.
We rarely get long quiet moments together. You’re the second. And often, you’re too busy soaking in the world. But when I wake you from nap and you curl your sweaty face into my body, I bury my nose into your silky gingerbread-scented hair and try to memorize the details: the curl of your long dark lashes, your baby scent still drowsy from sleep, the way you rub the label of your blanket under your nose to comfort yourself, your weight in my lap. And somehow, it is enough.
"On Living and Dreaming" by Annie Mangelson
I’ve been thinking about dreams, lately. Or, more specifically, the crossroads between dreams and reality. You see, Daddy just graduated. Somehow we survived the move across the country and here we are, all of a sudden embracing a new life. This new life has so many blessings, but some hard things, too. Dad works long days, and the commute to his first rotation is an hour and a half one-way. That’s three hours a day that I worry about him on the roads, and three extra hours outside of a full workday that he’s away from us. I miss him. You miss him. Our family time is short and precious, and personal free time for anyone is almost non-existent. Sometimes I think this whole scenario is crazy. But then… I have to check myself. Your Dad and I have been working toward this goal, this job, for seven years. And now here we are—living the dream. I can’t bring myself to complain over a few inconveniences when there were so many prayers and sacrifices and tears and miracles that got us here. Funny how easy it is to grow complacent with your dreams once they put on the humdrum garb of routine, responsibility, and reality. Sometimes I look at you, and my role as a mother, and see the same quandary playing out. I always wanted to be a mom, and now here we are: with dishes and laundry and discipline and no sleep. But there’s more. So much more. First of all, there is you. You with your wonder, your hilarious comments, your innocence, and your great big hearts full of love. How can I complain? Each moment’s a journey to savor these stretched, prosaic days long hoped and prayed for. Because, after all, you are my dream, and how often do dreams come true?
I’ve been thinking about dreams, lately. Or, more specifically, the crossroads between dreams and reality. You see, Daddy just graduated. Somehow we survived the move across the country and here we are, all of a sudden embracing a new life. This new life has so many blessings, but some hard things, too. Dad works long days, and the commute to his first rotation is an hour and a half one-way. That’s three hours a day that I worry about him on the roads, and three extra hours outside of a full workday that he’s away from us. I miss him. You miss him. Our family time is short and precious, and personal free time for anyone is almost non-existent. Sometimes I think this whole scenario is crazy. But then… I have to check myself. Your Dad and I have been working toward this goal, this job, for seven years. And now here we are—living the dream. I can’t bring myself to complain over a few inconveniences when there were so many prayers and sacrifices and tears and miracles that got us here. Funny how easy it is to grow complacent with your dreams once they put on the humdrum garb of routine, responsibility, and reality. Sometimes I look at you, and my role as a mother, and see the same quandary playing out. I always wanted to be a mom, and now here we are: with dishes and laundry and discipline and no sleep. But there’s more. So much more. First of all, there is you. You with your wonder, your hilarious comments, your innocence, and your great big hearts full of love. How can I complain? Each moment’s a journey to savor these stretched, prosaic days long hoped and prayed for. Because, after all, you are my dream, and how often do dreams come true?
“Beauty Within” by Charissa Gilliland
I have a really bad cell phone picture of you at almost 2 years old doing something similar. Grandma came to visit and brought you a big box of clothes from your cousin. You made her help you try everything on, and then wandered around after each change making all of us tell you that you were pretty. 3 years later, and we got a box of summer clothes in the mail, and you are doing the exact same thing. Your brothers being a little older now are not as willing to tell you how pretty you are, and that sometimes breaks your heart. As cute as this is right now, I hope as you get older that you learn that it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. Don't look to anyone else for self worth, or validation. You'll want too, but try and remember as fun as it is to dress up sometimes, ultimately your beauty comes from within.
I have a really bad cell phone picture of you at almost 2 years old doing something similar. Grandma came to visit and brought you a big box of clothes from your cousin. You made her help you try everything on, and then wandered around after each change making all of us tell you that you were pretty. 3 years later, and we got a box of summer clothes in the mail, and you are doing the exact same thing. Your brothers being a little older now are not as willing to tell you how pretty you are, and that sometimes breaks your heart. As cute as this is right now, I hope as you get older that you learn that it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. Don't look to anyone else for self worth, or validation. You'll want too, but try and remember as fun as it is to dress up sometimes, ultimately your beauty comes from within.
"sisters" by Megan Millsop
i don’t remember much of my early childhood with my sister. the parts I do remember include her being the “boss” and me following along to her instruction. there were good times too but for some reason they don’t stand out to me like these others do. your brother feels entitled to behave this way with you. and I see the beginnings of this weaving it’s way between you and your baby sister now too. she has grown into a curious little thing. her awareness of what you can do shows her all that she has to look forward to. this gate won’t always be the barrier between you. many other things will take its place. i ask you to let her in. share with her your thoughts and your dreams, your prized possessions and the lessons you’ve learned. someday soon she will need all of it. because even though the road to this loving relationship isn’t always paved and you will have to make your own path in order to stay on track, enjoy the journey. because when you least expect that love to show, that’s when it will spring forth to save the day, just as my sister did for me when I was picked on in school. that powerful bond will see sunny days but may fade over time. keep her in your heart and no matter what distance, time or strain may separate you, you will want to have memories of the love you share to bring you back to center.
i don’t remember much of my early childhood with my sister. the parts I do remember include her being the “boss” and me following along to her instruction. there were good times too but for some reason they don’t stand out to me like these others do. your brother feels entitled to behave this way with you. and I see the beginnings of this weaving it’s way between you and your baby sister now too. she has grown into a curious little thing. her awareness of what you can do shows her all that she has to look forward to. this gate won’t always be the barrier between you. many other things will take its place. i ask you to let her in. share with her your thoughts and your dreams, your prized possessions and the lessons you’ve learned. someday soon she will need all of it. because even though the road to this loving relationship isn’t always paved and you will have to make your own path in order to stay on track, enjoy the journey. because when you least expect that love to show, that’s when it will spring forth to save the day, just as my sister did for me when I was picked on in school. that powerful bond will see sunny days but may fade over time. keep her in your heart and no matter what distance, time or strain may separate you, you will want to have memories of the love you share to bring you back to center.
"Your first Bottle" by Nadia Stone
Your first Bottle…well our first try … Your brother and sister were so excited that you were going to try milk in the bottle .. They were so proud .. You were so proud ..We installed you in Mummy and Daddy's bed and we gave you the bottle … You laughed and put it straight into your mouth… I think that was a good start… Few seconds after you were trying to share the bottle with your siblings … and it was finished … Until next time ;)
Your first Bottle…well our first try … Your brother and sister were so excited that you were going to try milk in the bottle .. They were so proud .. You were so proud ..We installed you in Mummy and Daddy's bed and we gave you the bottle … You laughed and put it straight into your mouth… I think that was a good start… Few seconds after you were trying to share the bottle with your siblings … and it was finished … Until next time ;)
"A Snail’s Pace" by Karlie Austin
You have been spending hours picking through our front garden searching for snails, lining them up along the front window ledge with your sister and watching them race up the glass.
While you're not patient enough to watch the entire race, hours later you return to see how far they have gone, and where they have travelled.
Like you, in the thick of the day-to-day, time can feel like it passes slowly. I'll admit I'm not always as patient as I could be with each new phase. Now looking back on the past 4 years of your life, I can hardly believe how far you have come. With each passing year it continues to feel impossible to have you grow so quickly in front of my eyes.
And while I can't help but feel as though I'm being dragged kicking and screaming into this next stage of life, I will pause to look back and reflect on how far you have come and the amazing little man you are becoming.
You have been spending hours picking through our front garden searching for snails, lining them up along the front window ledge with your sister and watching them race up the glass.
While you're not patient enough to watch the entire race, hours later you return to see how far they have gone, and where they have travelled.
Like you, in the thick of the day-to-day, time can feel like it passes slowly. I'll admit I'm not always as patient as I could be with each new phase. Now looking back on the past 4 years of your life, I can hardly believe how far you have come. With each passing year it continues to feel impossible to have you grow so quickly in front of my eyes.
And while I can't help but feel as though I'm being dragged kicking and screaming into this next stage of life, I will pause to look back and reflect on how far you have come and the amazing little man you are becoming.
"Fatigue" by Kellie Llewellyn
This picture is a perfect example of how I feel lately. I blame on being almost 40 and pregnant, although I’m sure that’s only part of the reason. I’m trying to keep schedules organized and run a household, while trying not to lose myself in the mundane tasks. My most recent goal is to have all the little boys sleeping in their own beds. Before, Wyatt took one or two upstairs and I took one in our bed, because at the time it seemed like a solution to getting them to sleep at night. In reality, our marriage suffered, we catered so much to the needs of the kids that we sacrificed anytime we would share without them. It’s been a struggle sometimes I sit there for 2 hours trying to get them down, but they’ve been sleeping through the night for almost a week and it feels like a small victory. Wyatt and I are slowly reconnecting; it’s easy to take our relationship for granted because it feels secure. We are tied together with soon to be seven kids and we put all our energy into them and their needs, but it’s not the example I want them to learn from. I will strive to put our marriage first and teach them the relationship I want them to aim for.
This picture is a perfect example of how I feel lately. I blame on being almost 40 and pregnant, although I’m sure that’s only part of the reason. I’m trying to keep schedules organized and run a household, while trying not to lose myself in the mundane tasks. My most recent goal is to have all the little boys sleeping in their own beds. Before, Wyatt took one or two upstairs and I took one in our bed, because at the time it seemed like a solution to getting them to sleep at night. In reality, our marriage suffered, we catered so much to the needs of the kids that we sacrificed anytime we would share without them. It’s been a struggle sometimes I sit there for 2 hours trying to get them down, but they’ve been sleeping through the night for almost a week and it feels like a small victory. Wyatt and I are slowly reconnecting; it’s easy to take our relationship for granted because it feels secure. We are tied together with soon to be seven kids and we put all our energy into them and their needs, but it’s not the example I want them to learn from. I will strive to put our marriage first and teach them the relationship I want them to aim for.
"Two Boys" by Kendra Knaggs
It is happening. More than once I have come into a room and you are reading to him, well pretending to read, telling him what is happening on the page. You gravitate towards each other. You play, chase, you knock each other around. I find you entwined, sitting close, lying on each other, hands touching, feet tangled, biting, pulling hair, holding hands, leading one another. It is happening. You are becoming brothers.
It is happening. More than once I have come into a room and you are reading to him, well pretending to read, telling him what is happening on the page. You gravitate towards each other. You play, chase, you knock each other around. I find you entwined, sitting close, lying on each other, hands touching, feet tangled, biting, pulling hair, holding hands, leading one another. It is happening. You are becoming brothers.
by Megan Ahrens
Your favorite place to be is outside, always. You are happiest when you are riding one of your many bikes acquired from assorted garage sales; playing alone or with your sister, talking to yourself or including her. You finally fit on your big bike that we bought at a store last summer. It turned out to be too big at the time, but mostly you prefer your speedy little bikes. I’m sure that the outer shell of bike helmets aren’t supposed to be held together with duct tape but you are so content, so happy, it fits you like an old friend. Just like your old bikes. You zoom down the sidewalk, happy to play for hours with your imagination to keep you company.
Your favorite place to be is outside, always. You are happiest when you are riding one of your many bikes acquired from assorted garage sales; playing alone or with your sister, talking to yourself or including her. You finally fit on your big bike that we bought at a store last summer. It turned out to be too big at the time, but mostly you prefer your speedy little bikes. I’m sure that the outer shell of bike helmets aren’t supposed to be held together with duct tape but you are so content, so happy, it fits you like an old friend. Just like your old bikes. You zoom down the sidewalk, happy to play for hours with your imagination to keep you company.
“Finally” by Debbie Deonier
Your 2 older sisters did not breast feed for very long. One had problems latching from the beginning and the other just decided she was done at 8 weeks old. I cried so hard once I realized I wouldn’t be feeding them anymore. I was sure that you would be the same so I never imagined that you would still be breastfeeding at almost a year old.
There are so many things I love about the time I get to spend feeding you. I love the way you grab my hair and pull at it so gently over and over again. Sometimes you rub my face or grab my hand and make me rub your leg. You bite me sometimes when you are almost asleep, not on purpose, and when I jump or squeal you quickly let go. I love how you make a fake coughing noise as I lay you down on my lap to feed you. Most of all I love the time I get to spend staring at you while you are laying still.
As we approach the one year mark I am so happy that I finally get to complete a year of breastfeeding not exclusively attached to a pump and for the first time I don’t want the year to end because I’m not ready to stop.
Your 2 older sisters did not breast feed for very long. One had problems latching from the beginning and the other just decided she was done at 8 weeks old. I cried so hard once I realized I wouldn’t be feeding them anymore. I was sure that you would be the same so I never imagined that you would still be breastfeeding at almost a year old.
There are so many things I love about the time I get to spend feeding you. I love the way you grab my hair and pull at it so gently over and over again. Sometimes you rub my face or grab my hand and make me rub your leg. You bite me sometimes when you are almost asleep, not on purpose, and when I jump or squeal you quickly let go. I love how you make a fake coughing noise as I lay you down on my lap to feed you. Most of all I love the time I get to spend staring at you while you are laying still.
As we approach the one year mark I am so happy that I finally get to complete a year of breastfeeding not exclusively attached to a pump and for the first time I don’t want the year to end because I’m not ready to stop.
"The Move" by Kellie Pribbernow
We did it. We moved. We managed to get through nearly a year of prepping to sell, showing the house, selling twice after the first fell through, and then finally packing and packing and packing and moving 13 years of marriage and 8 years of growing 1, 2, 3, 4 babies from one little Cracker Jack box of a house into another just a mile away, but with elbow room. Breathing room.
You probably won't remember much, if anything at all, about this time of moving. But I will remember the details that the stress of it all burned into my nerves. I will remember the PODS container out the window and the sweaty, hardworking husband playing Tetris with the boxes to fit them all in. I will remember the snotty-nosed baby and the fevers the weeks before the move. I will remember the living room emptied of toys and filled up with empty boxes stacked, toppled, and driven around like cars until we needed another and then another and another for packing. I will remember the too many hours you all spent watching TV or playing the iPad. This same scene on the couch that I would walk past over and over again as I stumbled through the arduous process of packing up our seemingly endless amount of mess.
We did this all for you, you know. When it boils down to it, it is all for you. When your father and I got married, we didn't plan on children. We bought that old house as our forever home. People would tell us it was a “great little starter home.” We'd laugh and laugh and imagine ourselves growing old, just the two of us and some dogs, in our sweet little Cracker Jack box. But then you came, one by precious one. And life got infinitely more complex and amazing. And our walls began to close in. So as our family grew, we grew, too. We grew up. We grew into new ideas. We grew to like the idea of more space for you. More space for us all to breathe. Thank you, kiddos, for teaching us how to grow and breathe.
We did it. We moved. We managed to get through nearly a year of prepping to sell, showing the house, selling twice after the first fell through, and then finally packing and packing and packing and moving 13 years of marriage and 8 years of growing 1, 2, 3, 4 babies from one little Cracker Jack box of a house into another just a mile away, but with elbow room. Breathing room.
You probably won't remember much, if anything at all, about this time of moving. But I will remember the details that the stress of it all burned into my nerves. I will remember the PODS container out the window and the sweaty, hardworking husband playing Tetris with the boxes to fit them all in. I will remember the snotty-nosed baby and the fevers the weeks before the move. I will remember the living room emptied of toys and filled up with empty boxes stacked, toppled, and driven around like cars until we needed another and then another and another for packing. I will remember the too many hours you all spent watching TV or playing the iPad. This same scene on the couch that I would walk past over and over again as I stumbled through the arduous process of packing up our seemingly endless amount of mess.
We did this all for you, you know. When it boils down to it, it is all for you. When your father and I got married, we didn't plan on children. We bought that old house as our forever home. People would tell us it was a “great little starter home.” We'd laugh and laugh and imagine ourselves growing old, just the two of us and some dogs, in our sweet little Cracker Jack box. But then you came, one by precious one. And life got infinitely more complex and amazing. And our walls began to close in. So as our family grew, we grew, too. We grew up. We grew into new ideas. We grew to like the idea of more space for you. More space for us all to breathe. Thank you, kiddos, for teaching us how to grow and breathe.
"For My Girls…" by Kristen Rutherford
17 years ago today, my mother, your grandmother, died of breast cancer. 17 years ago, and it feels like yesterday. i hear her voice, i remember what it was like to hug her. i remember her soft skin. i remember this quirky face that she use to make all the time. she was an amazing person. she was the best mother and would have made and even better grandmother. it is very hard for me to believe that she has been gone almost as long as i blessed to have her as my mom. i know that i am so lucky to have had her for the time that i did. but, i cannot help to be angry at times. angry that she is not here to talk to, to help me. angry that she didn't get the chance to see me graduate from college, get married. most of all, i am angry that she did not get to be here to met her 2 beautiful granddaughters. to hold you, play with you, and see you grow. it just not fair. i fear everyday that cancer will come knocking at my door. i know how i feel with the loss of my mother and i don't want you girls to feel the emptiness that i feel. so, i took as much control over my destiny as one person could with the family history of breast cancer that i have. i underwent prophylactic mastectomies. some feel that this is too aggressive. too much to do to my body. but i would do this and more to get as much time here with my family. by undergoing this surgery, i reduced my risk of breast cancer by well over 90%!! it feels like a weight has been lifted from me. i had the ability to face this head on, and i did. i know that my mother would have done the same thing if she could have. i get my strength from her. has this process been easy... No. not easy on your daddy, or you girls. but, this is short lived in comparison to a life with the cloud of breast cancer looming over me everyday. so, i look at myself here on this day sad because i would give anything to have my mother here, but with some sense of relief and pride that i have done everything in my power to be here, and not let cancer rule.
17 years ago today, my mother, your grandmother, died of breast cancer. 17 years ago, and it feels like yesterday. i hear her voice, i remember what it was like to hug her. i remember her soft skin. i remember this quirky face that she use to make all the time. she was an amazing person. she was the best mother and would have made and even better grandmother. it is very hard for me to believe that she has been gone almost as long as i blessed to have her as my mom. i know that i am so lucky to have had her for the time that i did. but, i cannot help to be angry at times. angry that she is not here to talk to, to help me. angry that she didn't get the chance to see me graduate from college, get married. most of all, i am angry that she did not get to be here to met her 2 beautiful granddaughters. to hold you, play with you, and see you grow. it just not fair. i fear everyday that cancer will come knocking at my door. i know how i feel with the loss of my mother and i don't want you girls to feel the emptiness that i feel. so, i took as much control over my destiny as one person could with the family history of breast cancer that i have. i underwent prophylactic mastectomies. some feel that this is too aggressive. too much to do to my body. but i would do this and more to get as much time here with my family. by undergoing this surgery, i reduced my risk of breast cancer by well over 90%!! it feels like a weight has been lifted from me. i had the ability to face this head on, and i did. i know that my mother would have done the same thing if she could have. i get my strength from her. has this process been easy... No. not easy on your daddy, or you girls. but, this is short lived in comparison to a life with the cloud of breast cancer looming over me everyday. so, i look at myself here on this day sad because i would give anything to have my mother here, but with some sense of relief and pride that i have done everything in my power to be here, and not let cancer rule.
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May 2017
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“Summer Kid Legs” by Melissa Lazuka
It is not yet summer, yet tonight it feels like it is already here. There is that scent of lilac and the warm-air-after-it-has-rained smell that I can remember holding onto when I was six years old, the age you are now. You and your brother and I decide to go for a walk and I bring my camera. I have promised myself I will only bring it every other time we go for an adventure this summer. I have promised myself I will hold your hand more and sit in the dirt and with you and help you collect rocks and leaves for your nature projects and race you without feeling my camera thumping against my chest. It will be my gift to you in the present, the now. But my gift to you in the future will be these photographs and tonight we laugh and take silly photos. You and your brother pretend to be in a fistfight but when I look back on the photos later, your hands are in fists and your smiles are so wide, it is comical. We trek through the woods and sit on fallen trees. And we laugh. My heart feels lighter. I look to the sun-setting sky. It is getting late and your brother runs in but you check my pocket… ”where is the tiny perfect flower that I put in your pocket? I needed that momma!”, you say. And so we trek back to the wildflowers, lavender, bright yellow. The prettiest weeds. We plop down on the cement driveway and you laugh. I spread out the treasures and you smile and show me your one front tooth hanging, about to come out. You are laughing so hard and I snap snap snap, loving you so hard through my lens. I look down at your legs covered in dirt. You are happy.
It is not yet summer, yet tonight it feels like it is already here. There is that scent of lilac and the warm-air-after-it-has-rained smell that I can remember holding onto when I was six years old, the age you are now. You and your brother and I decide to go for a walk and I bring my camera. I have promised myself I will only bring it every other time we go for an adventure this summer. I have promised myself I will hold your hand more and sit in the dirt and with you and help you collect rocks and leaves for your nature projects and race you without feeling my camera thumping against my chest. It will be my gift to you in the present, the now. But my gift to you in the future will be these photographs and tonight we laugh and take silly photos. You and your brother pretend to be in a fistfight but when I look back on the photos later, your hands are in fists and your smiles are so wide, it is comical. We trek through the woods and sit on fallen trees. And we laugh. My heart feels lighter. I look to the sun-setting sky. It is getting late and your brother runs in but you check my pocket… ”where is the tiny perfect flower that I put in your pocket? I needed that momma!”, you say. And so we trek back to the wildflowers, lavender, bright yellow. The prettiest weeds. We plop down on the cement driveway and you laugh. I spread out the treasures and you smile and show me your one front tooth hanging, about to come out. You are laughing so hard and I snap snap snap, loving you so hard through my lens. I look down at your legs covered in dirt. You are happy.
"Ready for Sleep" by Rachel Wheeler
There's an image in my mind of us going to bed that I never got to capture. You are on your trundle bed, your first big boy bed, and sister is in the middle, the big bed. I'm laying on the outside with her on the inside, always in the deepest shadows. She is snuggled into my chest with my left arm wrapped around her tightly. She is starting to drift off to sleep. She twitches. I can hear you are not sleeping yet. You take time to settle. You always move and move and move when you're ready for sleep. So I drop my right arm down to you and feel for your hand. You, without pause, slip your fingers into the palm of my hand and there we lay, unable to see each other, but holding hands in the most quiet and special of ways. Then you fall very silent and still and I know you will soon be asleep. "Mama? ... I love you."
Sister has moved to the top bunk and honestly I am tired of pulling that trundle bed out nightly. I've had to coax you into the big bed and you've finally stopped asking to roll it out at bedtime and then crying "but this isn't my bed!" Change in all its forms is hard...and beautiful. You miss your bed and I miss laying next to you. As I stand on the edge of your new bed and hold sister's hand now, you wrap yourself around my legs, lightly slip your fingers right up my leg to brush your hands up and down from toes to knees and flash your sweetest smile when I give in and look down at you. And on some days, instead of holding hands we hold our gaze in the most quiet and special of ways. "I love you, mama. I hope you have a really good sleep," you say. "I love you too, bud. I'll see you in the morning," I reply, as you roll off my feet and into the shadows to sleep.
There's an image in my mind of us going to bed that I never got to capture. You are on your trundle bed, your first big boy bed, and sister is in the middle, the big bed. I'm laying on the outside with her on the inside, always in the deepest shadows. She is snuggled into my chest with my left arm wrapped around her tightly. She is starting to drift off to sleep. She twitches. I can hear you are not sleeping yet. You take time to settle. You always move and move and move when you're ready for sleep. So I drop my right arm down to you and feel for your hand. You, without pause, slip your fingers into the palm of my hand and there we lay, unable to see each other, but holding hands in the most quiet and special of ways. Then you fall very silent and still and I know you will soon be asleep. "Mama? ... I love you."
Sister has moved to the top bunk and honestly I am tired of pulling that trundle bed out nightly. I've had to coax you into the big bed and you've finally stopped asking to roll it out at bedtime and then crying "but this isn't my bed!" Change in all its forms is hard...and beautiful. You miss your bed and I miss laying next to you. As I stand on the edge of your new bed and hold sister's hand now, you wrap yourself around my legs, lightly slip your fingers right up my leg to brush your hands up and down from toes to knees and flash your sweetest smile when I give in and look down at you. And on some days, instead of holding hands we hold our gaze in the most quiet and special of ways. "I love you, mama. I hope you have a really good sleep," you say. "I love you too, bud. I'll see you in the morning," I reply, as you roll off my feet and into the shadows to sleep.
"Last One" by Kellie Pribbernow
You are the last one. How long will I continue to bemoan that these are the last toddler curls to pin back? How many more lasts will I find to drop tears over? All of them, probably. Forever, probably. With the great joy of burgeoning freedom for me comes the greatest of letting go's I have experienced yet. I know there will be so many more lasts. The constant ache of letting go seems to be the cornerstone of parenthood. I will take it. Every last of the last ones. I'll soak them up with my camera and with my heart and hopefully with my memory. I won't push you down (although I wanted to when you first started standing...don't you know you are supposed to stay a baby the longest?). But please remember that you are the last one. Make it hard for me to let go. I don't mind holding on a little longer.
You are the last one. How long will I continue to bemoan that these are the last toddler curls to pin back? How many more lasts will I find to drop tears over? All of them, probably. Forever, probably. With the great joy of burgeoning freedom for me comes the greatest of letting go's I have experienced yet. I know there will be so many more lasts. The constant ache of letting go seems to be the cornerstone of parenthood. I will take it. Every last of the last ones. I'll soak them up with my camera and with my heart and hopefully with my memory. I won't push you down (although I wanted to when you first started standing...don't you know you are supposed to stay a baby the longest?). But please remember that you are the last one. Make it hard for me to let go. I don't mind holding on a little longer.
“The Little Valley” by Adrianne Picicci
About halfway between our house and the park, there is an alley. Running between houses, this little passageway is overgrown with weeds and spattered with mud and residual rain water. Whenever we used to pass it, I remember wondering what sorts of dangerous objects might be lying there discarded. This week, you discovered the alley. You begged to run down “just to look” at a stray black cat with a bushy tale you spied sitting there—a bit of a questionable fellow. The cat ran off when he saw you barreling toward him, but your adventure led you to a thick shiny bolt and smooth round washer, which you excitedly carried back to show off. “Look, Mama, I found some clues!” What mystery these clues were going to help you solve wasn’t clear, but your joy in finding them was profound. Relieved that you had survived the dubious alley, I moved us on to the park. The next morning you began asking to “go back to that special place, the place with the valley and the little river.” Your generous description of the alley left me confused as to where you meant, until I remembered your “clues” from the day before. So, back we went to the finding place. More clues. A wooden block and a silver screw this time. So, back we will go tomorrow. I just wish I could live inside your imagination long enough to see a treasure-filled river valley where an unexceptional alley ought to be.
About halfway between our house and the park, there is an alley. Running between houses, this little passageway is overgrown with weeds and spattered with mud and residual rain water. Whenever we used to pass it, I remember wondering what sorts of dangerous objects might be lying there discarded. This week, you discovered the alley. You begged to run down “just to look” at a stray black cat with a bushy tale you spied sitting there—a bit of a questionable fellow. The cat ran off when he saw you barreling toward him, but your adventure led you to a thick shiny bolt and smooth round washer, which you excitedly carried back to show off. “Look, Mama, I found some clues!” What mystery these clues were going to help you solve wasn’t clear, but your joy in finding them was profound. Relieved that you had survived the dubious alley, I moved us on to the park. The next morning you began asking to “go back to that special place, the place with the valley and the little river.” Your generous description of the alley left me confused as to where you meant, until I remembered your “clues” from the day before. So, back we went to the finding place. More clues. A wooden block and a silver screw this time. So, back we will go tomorrow. I just wish I could live inside your imagination long enough to see a treasure-filled river valley where an unexceptional alley ought to be.
by Snow Cabral
today, my girl, you turned 6 and although i may have been on this earth 25 years longer than you, it is you who teaches me more about life with each passing day. you radiate a joy and light from your soul that is so intense, so beautiful, i see people all around us being drawn to you. like a beacon of hope in an otherwise dark day, and i can’t help but wonder if you are here to bring that light out in me too.
today, my girl, you turned 6 and although i may have been on this earth 25 years longer than you, it is you who teaches me more about life with each passing day. you radiate a joy and light from your soul that is so intense, so beautiful, i see people all around us being drawn to you. like a beacon of hope in an otherwise dark day, and i can’t help but wonder if you are here to bring that light out in me too.
“orange dots around the green dots heart” by Heather Robinson
i had locked myself in the bedroom. i was trying to work on my class. you came and knocked on the door. you were crying, “mama, it hurts.” i jumped out of bed and let you in. then i saw your face all scratched up. i took you into bed with me and held you close as you told me how you were learning to hang upside down on the jungle gym when you fell on your face.
as we laid in bed snuggling, your eyes wandered around the room taking in the photographs and artwork on the wall. you looked at the framed artwork that hangs above my bed and pointed to one particular frame and asked me why I took your sister’s drawing of the mermaid out of the frame and put your “orange dots around the green dots heart” in it instead. i thought for a moment before i spoke not wanting to downplay my appreciation for either your sister’s artwork or yours. then i replied, “i love the mermaid that your sister drew but she no longer loved it and asked me not to display it so i thought maybe it was time to give your art a nice home on my wall. and i love the great heart that you made. so i will keep it in that frame unless one day you ask me not to.” this seemed to upset you. “never take it down. remember to never take that heart off even if i say to take it off. will you always remember it forever?” “i will do my best to remember it.” “but how will you always remember it?” “i remember things sometimes by taking pictures of them and writing about them. so how about we do that now?”
i opened my laptop and began typing the words you had just spoken to me. you interrupted with concern in your voice. “but will you always remember to look on your computer?” you asked. “nope because i will make a book and i will put a picture of the orange dots around the green dots heart in the book with your words and we can look at the book together to always remember.” this seemed to satisfy you a little. you thought for a moment and then a smile formed on your wounded little face. you advised me to title the book, “look at this book right now. please look at this book if someone says to throw away the orange dots around the green dots heart.” i laughed and kissed your forehead. then your brow furrowed once more. “but how will you always find the book?” “i will keep it in a safe place.” “behind your pillow? is there any safer place?” you asked with your smile returning. i smiled too and said, “that sounds like a mighty fine place for it.”
i had locked myself in the bedroom. i was trying to work on my class. you came and knocked on the door. you were crying, “mama, it hurts.” i jumped out of bed and let you in. then i saw your face all scratched up. i took you into bed with me and held you close as you told me how you were learning to hang upside down on the jungle gym when you fell on your face.
as we laid in bed snuggling, your eyes wandered around the room taking in the photographs and artwork on the wall. you looked at the framed artwork that hangs above my bed and pointed to one particular frame and asked me why I took your sister’s drawing of the mermaid out of the frame and put your “orange dots around the green dots heart” in it instead. i thought for a moment before i spoke not wanting to downplay my appreciation for either your sister’s artwork or yours. then i replied, “i love the mermaid that your sister drew but she no longer loved it and asked me not to display it so i thought maybe it was time to give your art a nice home on my wall. and i love the great heart that you made. so i will keep it in that frame unless one day you ask me not to.” this seemed to upset you. “never take it down. remember to never take that heart off even if i say to take it off. will you always remember it forever?” “i will do my best to remember it.” “but how will you always remember it?” “i remember things sometimes by taking pictures of them and writing about them. so how about we do that now?”
i opened my laptop and began typing the words you had just spoken to me. you interrupted with concern in your voice. “but will you always remember to look on your computer?” you asked. “nope because i will make a book and i will put a picture of the orange dots around the green dots heart in the book with your words and we can look at the book together to always remember.” this seemed to satisfy you a little. you thought for a moment and then a smile formed on your wounded little face. you advised me to title the book, “look at this book right now. please look at this book if someone says to throw away the orange dots around the green dots heart.” i laughed and kissed your forehead. then your brow furrowed once more. “but how will you always find the book?” “i will keep it in a safe place.” “behind your pillow? is there any safer place?” you asked with your smile returning. i smiled too and said, “that sounds like a mighty fine place for it.”
“You make my heart happy” by Mandy Benoit
You get carted around from place to place and you remain content. When I look at your beautiful face, you smile with your whole body and I return the grin. It’s amazing to me that just under 4 months ago you were tucked away in my warm belly. I can’t imagine my life without you here to hold & squeeze & love, and just to make every day just … really good. I love you with my whole heart Leo.
You get carted around from place to place and you remain content. When I look at your beautiful face, you smile with your whole body and I return the grin. It’s amazing to me that just under 4 months ago you were tucked away in my warm belly. I can’t imagine my life without you here to hold & squeeze & love, and just to make every day just … really good. I love you with my whole heart Leo.
“Messy Perfections” by Heather Tully
so, the old couches are still here, crowding our educational & living rooms. I'm trying my best to not be annoyed because this is our life- it's rarely neat but instead it's usually crowded & messy. I envisioned motherhood neater, prettier, more restful... actually, I think what I was envisioning was the house.
while I'm still gonna strive for cleanliness & everything having a place, I'm also soaking in all the chaos & mess because the people- each of you!- matter more than the stuff! and the beautiful thing is that when I do that, I see such wonders before me! simple, ordinary, messy perfections. motherhood is never going be what I pretended as a little girl but I'm okay with that.
so, the old couches are still here, crowding our educational & living rooms. I'm trying my best to not be annoyed because this is our life- it's rarely neat but instead it's usually crowded & messy. I envisioned motherhood neater, prettier, more restful... actually, I think what I was envisioning was the house.
while I'm still gonna strive for cleanliness & everything having a place, I'm also soaking in all the chaos & mess because the people- each of you!- matter more than the stuff! and the beautiful thing is that when I do that, I see such wonders before me! simple, ordinary, messy perfections. motherhood is never going be what I pretended as a little girl but I'm okay with that.
"Transformation" by Francesca Russell
“Today was the last IEP meeting of your preschool career. You are graduating. Not just from pre-K but from speech therapy. It’s been two and a half years of hard, hard work, and a lot of frustration, but you are finally done. I started tearing up as I heard all your teachers talk about you over the speaker phone at the district office. Just a year ago you told me through tears, “Mommy, my mouth isn’t working” when you couldn’t get your words out. You used to turn to the wall or put your head down when you were working with a therapist and got frustrated. At the beginning of the school year, you were quiet and reserved around other children. Today, your speech therapist marveled at how far you’ve come. Your pre-K teacher said that you are a delight, that your classmates love you, that you are “sought after”, that you communicate clearly, and that you play well. Your counselor said that you have been such an asset to your social skills group, that you love playing with other kids. I mean, I knew that you were pretty darn great, but I’m your mom. Listening to other people talk about how compassionate, kind, funny, friendly and hardworking you are - that was pretty overwhelming, in a really good way. I am so, so proud of all the hard work you have done this year. All the teachers and therapists at your new school say they can’t wait to meet you - that it sounds like you will be a wonderful addition to your kindergarten class. We’ve been reading “The Very Hungry Caterpillar” before bed recently and I just can’t help but think of you when he emerges from his chrysalis. My goodness, what a beautiful butterfly you’ve grown into, Lila. Spread those wings, my love, and fly.”
“Today was the last IEP meeting of your preschool career. You are graduating. Not just from pre-K but from speech therapy. It’s been two and a half years of hard, hard work, and a lot of frustration, but you are finally done. I started tearing up as I heard all your teachers talk about you over the speaker phone at the district office. Just a year ago you told me through tears, “Mommy, my mouth isn’t working” when you couldn’t get your words out. You used to turn to the wall or put your head down when you were working with a therapist and got frustrated. At the beginning of the school year, you were quiet and reserved around other children. Today, your speech therapist marveled at how far you’ve come. Your pre-K teacher said that you are a delight, that your classmates love you, that you are “sought after”, that you communicate clearly, and that you play well. Your counselor said that you have been such an asset to your social skills group, that you love playing with other kids. I mean, I knew that you were pretty darn great, but I’m your mom. Listening to other people talk about how compassionate, kind, funny, friendly and hardworking you are - that was pretty overwhelming, in a really good way. I am so, so proud of all the hard work you have done this year. All the teachers and therapists at your new school say they can’t wait to meet you - that it sounds like you will be a wonderful addition to your kindergarten class. We’ve been reading “The Very Hungry Caterpillar” before bed recently and I just can’t help but think of you when he emerges from his chrysalis. My goodness, what a beautiful butterfly you’ve grown into, Lila. Spread those wings, my love, and fly.”
“finding each other” by Megan Millsop
we have so little time together during the week. so you find me wherever I am of an evening. you seek me out so that you can tell me you love me. or ask me to hold you. or bring me a book so that I can read it to you. sometimes you just want to be close to me. to sit next to me when that is all that I can give at the moment. because even though i may be taking care of your sister at the time, i can still admire you and take you by the hand. and this simple gesture, a touch, brings us together again. it reminds you that i see you. that i treasure you and these brief moments in time before one distraction or another forces us tonto the next. i want to say thank you for finding me because it is so nice to be found.
we have so little time together during the week. so you find me wherever I am of an evening. you seek me out so that you can tell me you love me. or ask me to hold you. or bring me a book so that I can read it to you. sometimes you just want to be close to me. to sit next to me when that is all that I can give at the moment. because even though i may be taking care of your sister at the time, i can still admire you and take you by the hand. and this simple gesture, a touch, brings us together again. it reminds you that i see you. that i treasure you and these brief moments in time before one distraction or another forces us tonto the next. i want to say thank you for finding me because it is so nice to be found.
"Mother’s Day" by Erin Wood
You: “Mom, do we have any wrapping paper?”
Me: “Sure, in the basement, but we only have Christmas wrapping paper.”
A few minutes later, you come up with red polka dot paper and exclaim, “Perfect! It’s not too festive!” You sneak up to your room and tell me, under no circumstances, should I come up to your room. Later on that day, after you have gone to school, I come up to your room and see this scene. You have wrapped up one of your paintings from school to give me for Mother’s day. You were so excited when you brought the wrapped gift downstairs and told me not to open it until Mother’s day.
You are my sensitive guy. You are always thinking of ways to make others happy. I love that about you! I can’t help but think of the kind of husband you’ll be some day. I think you’ll be amazing!
You: “Mom, do we have any wrapping paper?”
Me: “Sure, in the basement, but we only have Christmas wrapping paper.”
A few minutes later, you come up with red polka dot paper and exclaim, “Perfect! It’s not too festive!” You sneak up to your room and tell me, under no circumstances, should I come up to your room. Later on that day, after you have gone to school, I come up to your room and see this scene. You have wrapped up one of your paintings from school to give me for Mother’s day. You were so excited when you brought the wrapped gift downstairs and told me not to open it until Mother’s day.
You are my sensitive guy. You are always thinking of ways to make others happy. I love that about you! I can’t help but think of the kind of husband you’ll be some day. I think you’ll be amazing!
"Volume 1: May 12, 2017" by Kendra Knaggs
"Mommy, can you put it in your pocket." You don't like to put things in your pockets. Your treasures find their way to mine and then I have trouble throwing them away because inevitably, three weeks later, you ask me for some specific object you handed me at some point. I have come to put them on the ledge in the mudroom where I see your Dad glance every once in a while. I told him I would figure something out and this is what I came up with. When the ledge is full I will take a picture and clear them out. This is Volume 1: May 12, 2017. Things not pictured because they were heaved before I got around to the photo: at least 15 more snail shells, 6 more walnuts, garbage, all the garbage, you are a committed garbage picker, 3 daffodils, maple keys and so much more. To note: the top four pine cones are not actually pine cones at all but extremely powerful rockets.
"Mommy, can you put it in your pocket." You don't like to put things in your pockets. Your treasures find their way to mine and then I have trouble throwing them away because inevitably, three weeks later, you ask me for some specific object you handed me at some point. I have come to put them on the ledge in the mudroom where I see your Dad glance every once in a while. I told him I would figure something out and this is what I came up with. When the ledge is full I will take a picture and clear them out. This is Volume 1: May 12, 2017. Things not pictured because they were heaved before I got around to the photo: at least 15 more snail shells, 6 more walnuts, garbage, all the garbage, you are a committed garbage picker, 3 daffodils, maple keys and so much more. To note: the top four pine cones are not actually pine cones at all but extremely powerful rockets.
"Hidden in scraps of paper" by Karlie Austin
I didn't know it when I captured this photo, but you were meticulously picking and laying out the outfit that you wanted to wear for Mother's Day. I didn't know that this was going to be the first year that I would truly experience your celebration of me. Up until now, others helped you.
You had been talking about “Mommy’s day” for about a week leading up to Sunday. Telling me of the special “creations” you were making me. Asking me “How many more sleeps?” For the first time, I could tell this day was important to you, not just because someone told you it was.
And so you picked out the gray dress with the gold hearts, to “show me how much you love me”. And at 6 am, wearing your dress, you woke me up and asked “is it time? Can I give you your gifts now?”
You not only brought home the gift your teacher planned, you designed and created a mailbox for me. Covered in striped paper and red fabric, tied up with pink and blue embroidery floss. Inside were carefully cut letter M’s, “for mommy”, with hearts drawn on them. There were also pictures of the 2 of us together, me with my curly hair, eyelashes and “fancy shoes”, you with long outstretched arms holding hearts “your love for me”.
You had me open my mailbox first then handed me a gift wrapped in purple tissue. “I wrapped it myself” you told me and inside was a photo of you framed. Standing against a blue background it read: “I love my mom because… “ and you were holding up a hand written sign, “ she alwayz reeds me boks”. The frame was carefully decorated with blue flowers , red sparkly shapes and rhinestones, placed almost symmetrically on the black frame. Hidden in the scraps of paper and recycled materials laid your gratitude and for the first time I could see how much you wanted me to feel loved and appreciated. Little do you know, you have given me what will be one of my most memorable Mother's Days. Thank you sweet girl.
I didn't know it when I captured this photo, but you were meticulously picking and laying out the outfit that you wanted to wear for Mother's Day. I didn't know that this was going to be the first year that I would truly experience your celebration of me. Up until now, others helped you.
You had been talking about “Mommy’s day” for about a week leading up to Sunday. Telling me of the special “creations” you were making me. Asking me “How many more sleeps?” For the first time, I could tell this day was important to you, not just because someone told you it was.
And so you picked out the gray dress with the gold hearts, to “show me how much you love me”. And at 6 am, wearing your dress, you woke me up and asked “is it time? Can I give you your gifts now?”
You not only brought home the gift your teacher planned, you designed and created a mailbox for me. Covered in striped paper and red fabric, tied up with pink and blue embroidery floss. Inside were carefully cut letter M’s, “for mommy”, with hearts drawn on them. There were also pictures of the 2 of us together, me with my curly hair, eyelashes and “fancy shoes”, you with long outstretched arms holding hearts “your love for me”.
You had me open my mailbox first then handed me a gift wrapped in purple tissue. “I wrapped it myself” you told me and inside was a photo of you framed. Standing against a blue background it read: “I love my mom because… “ and you were holding up a hand written sign, “ she alwayz reeds me boks”. The frame was carefully decorated with blue flowers , red sparkly shapes and rhinestones, placed almost symmetrically on the black frame. Hidden in the scraps of paper and recycled materials laid your gratitude and for the first time I could see how much you wanted me to feel loved and appreciated. Little do you know, you have given me what will be one of my most memorable Mother's Days. Thank you sweet girl.
by Kristin Rutherford
we all have been having so many feelings lately. here we are at disney world amongst all the magic, the happiest place on earth. so happy to be here on a family vacation camping at disney's fort wilderness. my girls, daddy, grammy, poppy, kris, and his friend kyle. truth be told, we have a lot going on in our lives right now. hannah you are ending your last few weeks of pre-k and in the fall will start kindergarten. where did 5 years go? mommy is going to be having surgery in just a few short weeks. i know that the time that i need to recuperate will be short, but none the less i am very nervous. nervous about the pain. nervous about something happening to me during surgery. most nervous that you will need me in ways that i cannot help you for a few weeks. that breaks my heart to think about. i don't want either of you worried about mommy. i want your lives to be as "normal" as possible. that is why i am doing this. i want to do everything in my power to be here as long as humanly possible with you girls, our family together. I want to go on many family vacations and adventures together. Make as many memories together we possibly can. girls, that is what life is about. you will not remember you favorite day of tv or the best you tube videos. you will remember the memories that we make together as a family. even though we may had many feeling running through us during this time in our life, the magic was still there. for us, through all of feelings, it was the happiest place on earth. memories were made to last a lifetime.
we all have been having so many feelings lately. here we are at disney world amongst all the magic, the happiest place on earth. so happy to be here on a family vacation camping at disney's fort wilderness. my girls, daddy, grammy, poppy, kris, and his friend kyle. truth be told, we have a lot going on in our lives right now. hannah you are ending your last few weeks of pre-k and in the fall will start kindergarten. where did 5 years go? mommy is going to be having surgery in just a few short weeks. i know that the time that i need to recuperate will be short, but none the less i am very nervous. nervous about the pain. nervous about something happening to me during surgery. most nervous that you will need me in ways that i cannot help you for a few weeks. that breaks my heart to think about. i don't want either of you worried about mommy. i want your lives to be as "normal" as possible. that is why i am doing this. i want to do everything in my power to be here as long as humanly possible with you girls, our family together. I want to go on many family vacations and adventures together. Make as many memories together we possibly can. girls, that is what life is about. you will not remember you favorite day of tv or the best you tube videos. you will remember the memories that we make together as a family. even though we may had many feeling running through us during this time in our life, the magic was still there. for us, through all of feelings, it was the happiest place on earth. memories were made to last a lifetime.
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April 2017
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The Roly-Poly House by Rachel Wheeler
“I found some! There are TONS!”
“WHAT? Where? I don’t see any!!”
You darted from rock to rock around the house lifting gingerly to see if you could catch some roly-poly bugs before they snuck away. You giggled and squealed as their little legs tickled your hands. And then your favorite...they curled up into a ball and waited for you to put them down. Of course you wanted to keep them. I told you no. Roly-polies live outside not in our pockets.
So you built them a stone home (“they like stones”), decorated it with newly sprung flowers (“they’ll want their house to be pretty”), swapped out littler rocks for bigger ones (“they’ll want strong walls to protect them”), and dropped your friends so gently into their new home (“we wouldn’t want to hurt them”). Then you were sad. Because they wouldn’t stay in their house.
I explained that there was nothing we could do about them wanting to leave the sweet house you’d built for them. You both hung your heads and slinked off into the shadows of the yard to get over the disappointment. But your little stone house sat there in front of me. All alone now I suddenly felt sad too. I saw this lovely home you’d made and how nothing you could do would keep those sweet bugs safe and happy inside that home. I realized that no matter what kind of home your father and I built, you two will leave it, as you should, to find your own beauty, safety and love. And I missed you already.
“I found some! There are TONS!”
“WHAT? Where? I don’t see any!!”
You darted from rock to rock around the house lifting gingerly to see if you could catch some roly-poly bugs before they snuck away. You giggled and squealed as their little legs tickled your hands. And then your favorite...they curled up into a ball and waited for you to put them down. Of course you wanted to keep them. I told you no. Roly-polies live outside not in our pockets.
So you built them a stone home (“they like stones”), decorated it with newly sprung flowers (“they’ll want their house to be pretty”), swapped out littler rocks for bigger ones (“they’ll want strong walls to protect them”), and dropped your friends so gently into their new home (“we wouldn’t want to hurt them”). Then you were sad. Because they wouldn’t stay in their house.
I explained that there was nothing we could do about them wanting to leave the sweet house you’d built for them. You both hung your heads and slinked off into the shadows of the yard to get over the disappointment. But your little stone house sat there in front of me. All alone now I suddenly felt sad too. I saw this lovely home you’d made and how nothing you could do would keep those sweet bugs safe and happy inside that home. I realized that no matter what kind of home your father and I built, you two will leave it, as you should, to find your own beauty, safety and love. And I missed you already.
"Courage" by Karlie Austin
There's something about these freshly primed front entry halls that remind me of new beginnings. You both have faced so much change over the past few months. New home, new rooms, new school and now the renovations. Through it all you have grown closer, and become one another's ally, rising up against the change. Have courage my loves, change will make you stronger.
There's something about these freshly primed front entry halls that remind me of new beginnings. You both have faced so much change over the past few months. New home, new rooms, new school and now the renovations. Through it all you have grown closer, and become one another's ally, rising up against the change. Have courage my loves, change will make you stronger.
“Teacher” by Francesca Russell
Something your Nana is really good at (which I am not) is coming up with ways for you to help her while she is doing something. I am the least patient person in the world and I have trouble slowing down when something needs to be done NOW, in order to let you in on the activity. I am working on it. On this night in Copake you really wanted to help Nana while she was making dinner. She made the time to show the two of you how to trim the ends off the green beans and you both were so happy to help. I loved seeing the sense of worth and accomplishment that you both gained from the task and it was a good lesson for me. Life is not a race!
Something your Nana is really good at (which I am not) is coming up with ways for you to help her while she is doing something. I am the least patient person in the world and I have trouble slowing down when something needs to be done NOW, in order to let you in on the activity. I am working on it. On this night in Copake you really wanted to help Nana while she was making dinner. She made the time to show the two of you how to trim the ends off the green beans and you both were so happy to help. I loved seeing the sense of worth and accomplishment that you both gained from the task and it was a good lesson for me. Life is not a race!
“Five” by Adrianne Picicci
Today is your last day to be four. I have been thinking a lot about how to prolong the day, to make it count. I let you dig around in the spice cupboard for ingredients to add to your increasingly complex “potions.” I didn’t stop you from filling the sink with water until it overflowed and made a huge mess on the floor. I even helped you use the hair dryer to dry the coins you had “washed” from your coin collection, because I could see that it was important to your four year old self. Life with you is always fast, but I wish I could slow these memories down, crystallize their process somehow. Last week, you broke open an unremarkable looking geode and were thrilled by the sparking crystals hiding inside. I tried to explain the process, how it happens slowly over time, but you were already filling the pool with water and excited about splashing through the mud. Slow is just not in your vocabulary as you jump, yell, climb, invent and experiment your way through life. You have always been a rocket, the word we chose a couple years back to explain how different children have different temperaments. “Some kids are trees and some are rockets,” I tried to simplify. You still use this metaphor when you tell me about a new friend you’ve made at preschool or at the park: “He’s a rocket, Mama!” I haven’t felt this panic before, this need to keep you little. I was always excited to watch you grow and develop, hoping that new transitions would ease some of your unbridled energy and intensity. Suddenly, I find myself here. Tomorrow, you will be five, and this year will be a significant one, as you transition into school age. “Wait, slow down, you are too big now,” I want to say, and I feel for the first time that ache of motherhood, brought on by the realization that childhood is both fragile and fleeting. I suspect that you will always move quickly, burning energy like rocket fuel. You will probably always prefer to run than to walk. Someday, though, I hope you will remember that your Mama tried to make your childhood at least a little like those slow-forming crystals: grown with love and patience over time to reveal something beautiful.
Today is your last day to be four. I have been thinking a lot about how to prolong the day, to make it count. I let you dig around in the spice cupboard for ingredients to add to your increasingly complex “potions.” I didn’t stop you from filling the sink with water until it overflowed and made a huge mess on the floor. I even helped you use the hair dryer to dry the coins you had “washed” from your coin collection, because I could see that it was important to your four year old self. Life with you is always fast, but I wish I could slow these memories down, crystallize their process somehow. Last week, you broke open an unremarkable looking geode and were thrilled by the sparking crystals hiding inside. I tried to explain the process, how it happens slowly over time, but you were already filling the pool with water and excited about splashing through the mud. Slow is just not in your vocabulary as you jump, yell, climb, invent and experiment your way through life. You have always been a rocket, the word we chose a couple years back to explain how different children have different temperaments. “Some kids are trees and some are rockets,” I tried to simplify. You still use this metaphor when you tell me about a new friend you’ve made at preschool or at the park: “He’s a rocket, Mama!” I haven’t felt this panic before, this need to keep you little. I was always excited to watch you grow and develop, hoping that new transitions would ease some of your unbridled energy and intensity. Suddenly, I find myself here. Tomorrow, you will be five, and this year will be a significant one, as you transition into school age. “Wait, slow down, you are too big now,” I want to say, and I feel for the first time that ache of motherhood, brought on by the realization that childhood is both fragile and fleeting. I suspect that you will always move quickly, burning energy like rocket fuel. You will probably always prefer to run than to walk. Someday, though, I hope you will remember that your Mama tried to make your childhood at least a little like those slow-forming crystals: grown with love and patience over time to reveal something beautiful.
“picturing you” by Heather Robinson
i spent months planning this room for you. it looked a lot different back then. that was eight years ago. i used to sit in a rocking chair and look at the freshly painted walls, the crib, the colorful floral rug, and the framed broaches that once belonged to your great grandma etta. i couldn’t wait to get you into this scene.
everything looks drastically different now. my vision was short sighted way back then. i was only picturing you, my first baby in your room. i couldn’t have possibly imagined anything or anyone outside of you. and that was how it went for a couple of years. it was just you and me taking our time enjoying our days together.
i sure do love looking in on this room of yours and seeing you among all of those other beds. i know it is hard to share your room. to share me. you don’t remember the way this room once looked but i do and i remember how you got your start in this world with my complete attention on you. i hope you know that i will do my best to focus on just you no matter how full this space becomes.
i spent months planning this room for you. it looked a lot different back then. that was eight years ago. i used to sit in a rocking chair and look at the freshly painted walls, the crib, the colorful floral rug, and the framed broaches that once belonged to your great grandma etta. i couldn’t wait to get you into this scene.
everything looks drastically different now. my vision was short sighted way back then. i was only picturing you, my first baby in your room. i couldn’t have possibly imagined anything or anyone outside of you. and that was how it went for a couple of years. it was just you and me taking our time enjoying our days together.
i sure do love looking in on this room of yours and seeing you among all of those other beds. i know it is hard to share your room. to share me. you don’t remember the way this room once looked but i do and i remember how you got your start in this world with my complete attention on you. i hope you know that i will do my best to focus on just you no matter how full this space becomes.
“Where would I be without you?” by Mandy Benoit
When I was younger, our relationship was like mine with my kids now. You were there. You were always there, and you always delivered. I know you’re not perfect, and I know there were times where things were hard for you as a mom… and that we drove you up the wall… but as a kid I only remember you being there. In my teens and twenties, there were a lot of times things were hard for me, you always listened... I knew I could talk to you about anything. And now as a mother of 4, your help is essential to me, from watching the kids, making meals, to just being around. I texted you the other day feeling overwhelmed, and so maxed out, and just like no one got how I felt, you replied with a joking comment, and it made me just feel gotten. Your words lifted so much weight off my heavy shoulders. There’s not a day that I live and breathe that I don’t feel lucky to have you as my mom. I love you with my whole heart.
When I was younger, our relationship was like mine with my kids now. You were there. You were always there, and you always delivered. I know you’re not perfect, and I know there were times where things were hard for you as a mom… and that we drove you up the wall… but as a kid I only remember you being there. In my teens and twenties, there were a lot of times things were hard for me, you always listened... I knew I could talk to you about anything. And now as a mother of 4, your help is essential to me, from watching the kids, making meals, to just being around. I texted you the other day feeling overwhelmed, and so maxed out, and just like no one got how I felt, you replied with a joking comment, and it made me just feel gotten. Your words lifted so much weight off my heavy shoulders. There’s not a day that I live and breathe that I don’t feel lucky to have you as my mom. I love you with my whole heart.
“my helper” by Snow Cabral
You always want to help in the kitchen, with everything really, unless it’s your own room that needs cleaning. It’s guaranteed that if I’m doing something I will turn around and see you there, peeking in, wanting to know what it is and how to do it. I’m not always the most patient with letting you help, although I do try. I know how important it is to teach you and empower you to try things, eventually finding your way in this world. I always think I have more time than I really do to make it all happen. Then on days like this I look up and realize you’re big enough to stir dinner cooking on the stove and I wonder where the time has gone. Although you still have to get up on your tippy toes so maybe there’s a little more time after all.
You always want to help in the kitchen, with everything really, unless it’s your own room that needs cleaning. It’s guaranteed that if I’m doing something I will turn around and see you there, peeking in, wanting to know what it is and how to do it. I’m not always the most patient with letting you help, although I do try. I know how important it is to teach you and empower you to try things, eventually finding your way in this world. I always think I have more time than I really do to make it all happen. Then on days like this I look up and realize you’re big enough to stir dinner cooking on the stove and I wonder where the time has gone. Although you still have to get up on your tippy toes so maybe there’s a little more time after all.
“I almost missed this!” by Heather Tully
after coming home with my own toes painted last night, I promised you all I'd paint yours today. just like children do, you kept asking all day long if it was time & just like mamas tend to do, I kept saying, "not right now" or "in awhile" or "later." finally, just minutes before I had to rush out the door with your eldest brother, I gathered you all to make good on my promise. your joy & especially Katherine's squeals of delight warmed my heart. my thoughts turned to how amazing it is that you all have each other- four sisters so close in age! I always wanted a sister & now I have the joy of seeing my girls grow up together. I can't believe I almost missed this because I was so "busy" today! thanks for bugging me!
after coming home with my own toes painted last night, I promised you all I'd paint yours today. just like children do, you kept asking all day long if it was time & just like mamas tend to do, I kept saying, "not right now" or "in awhile" or "later." finally, just minutes before I had to rush out the door with your eldest brother, I gathered you all to make good on my promise. your joy & especially Katherine's squeals of delight warmed my heart. my thoughts turned to how amazing it is that you all have each other- four sisters so close in age! I always wanted a sister & now I have the joy of seeing my girls grow up together. I can't believe I almost missed this because I was so "busy" today! thanks for bugging me!
"Two Boys" by Kendra Knaggs
You two belong to each other as much as you belong to your dad and me. I never realized how important it was to have a witness to my life until three of the most important memory keepers of my history were gone. As you grow, I hope you will find a firm and constant strength in each other’s presence. You will not be friends all the time. You will bicker, annoy, compete and begin to move along your own paths. Please know though that the constancy of your brotherhood and being generous in spirit and loyalty toward one another will be that the thing the moves you toward every dream you have ever wanted for yourselves.
You two belong to each other as much as you belong to your dad and me. I never realized how important it was to have a witness to my life until three of the most important memory keepers of my history were gone. As you grow, I hope you will find a firm and constant strength in each other’s presence. You will not be friends all the time. You will bicker, annoy, compete and begin to move along your own paths. Please know though that the constancy of your brotherhood and being generous in spirit and loyalty toward one another will be that the thing the moves you toward every dream you have ever wanted for yourselves.
"growing into" by Kellie Pribbernow
This shot feels like a cliche (well, it is), but I like it because it *is* a "boyhood" cliche, and yet you, my boy, have rarely and only recently been interested in this type of thing. I mean, you are all about Lego and Star Wars and sports, yes. But battles and life-size "weapons" and realistic soldiers? No. You have always been hypersensitive. I mean, you are the boy who at age 2 ½ cried during a reading of Corduroy. So you have always shied away from things that could be perceived as real violence. And I love that about you. Only recently, at 7 ½ years old, have you started to incorporate battles into your play. I celebrate this typical boyhood activity for you not as a loss of innocence or as desensitization, but as a gain of an expanded set of coping skills and awareness. You can now separate the feelings you intuitively feel about fictional violence, while at the same time begin to process with your empathetic heart how it all correlates to the real world. You are building bridges from your imagination to your reality through play. It is a big step for you. I mean, this is just a photo of a boy with a nerf gun shooting at soldiers carefully lined up on the bumper of our van. But to me, it is a sign of you growing. Not necessarily growing up, but growing into your personality. And I love it.
This shot feels like a cliche (well, it is), but I like it because it *is* a "boyhood" cliche, and yet you, my boy, have rarely and only recently been interested in this type of thing. I mean, you are all about Lego and Star Wars and sports, yes. But battles and life-size "weapons" and realistic soldiers? No. You have always been hypersensitive. I mean, you are the boy who at age 2 ½ cried during a reading of Corduroy. So you have always shied away from things that could be perceived as real violence. And I love that about you. Only recently, at 7 ½ years old, have you started to incorporate battles into your play. I celebrate this typical boyhood activity for you not as a loss of innocence or as desensitization, but as a gain of an expanded set of coping skills and awareness. You can now separate the feelings you intuitively feel about fictional violence, while at the same time begin to process with your empathetic heart how it all correlates to the real world. You are building bridges from your imagination to your reality through play. It is a big step for you. I mean, this is just a photo of a boy with a nerf gun shooting at soldiers carefully lined up on the bumper of our van. But to me, it is a sign of you growing. Not necessarily growing up, but growing into your personality. And I love it.
"Take it with me" by Annie Mangelson
I took out my camera today, like I do many days, but didn't realize how these images would hit me. It happens like that. I remember when we left Colorado and I took a picture of my oldest playing on our wood floors---the floors where my babies learned to walk. That image hit me, too. And here we are two years later, getting ready to move, and it happened, again. Just an ordinary moment... How many times have we sat at this table and practiced our ABCs or learned how to add? The meals. The crafts. The homework assignments and church lessons. This table will hit storage for awhile when we move, and we'll likely never enter these walls again once we close the door that last time. But we LIVED here. Can the next occupants ever know how much life is wrapped up in these walls? How many ordinary moments mingled with milestones? Who we were and who we became here? Do places remember us when we leave, a bit of our hearts and histories forever beating in their air? This is the table where my babies outgrew booster seats and sippy cups. Where they learned their ABCs. Where a significant chapter of our life--spread out across the country in chronicles--happened. I will miss it.
I took out my camera today, like I do many days, but didn't realize how these images would hit me. It happens like that. I remember when we left Colorado and I took a picture of my oldest playing on our wood floors---the floors where my babies learned to walk. That image hit me, too. And here we are two years later, getting ready to move, and it happened, again. Just an ordinary moment... How many times have we sat at this table and practiced our ABCs or learned how to add? The meals. The crafts. The homework assignments and church lessons. This table will hit storage for awhile when we move, and we'll likely never enter these walls again once we close the door that last time. But we LIVED here. Can the next occupants ever know how much life is wrapped up in these walls? How many ordinary moments mingled with milestones? Who we were and who we became here? Do places remember us when we leave, a bit of our hearts and histories forever beating in their air? This is the table where my babies outgrew booster seats and sippy cups. Where they learned their ABCs. Where a significant chapter of our life--spread out across the country in chronicles--happened. I will miss it.
"life lesson" by Kristin Rutherford
things have been rough for our little family lately. we lost our old guy, jackson. this pup has been with us for years. 14 years old… we rescued him at 3, and since he has lived a long happy life. it was the hardest thing have to tell you girls that jackson was sick and went to heaven. lexi, baby you are too young to understand. hannah, baby girl, you understood all too well. at first said to us, it’s ok. then you went upstairs and i found you crying. you just wanted him to live a little longer. what i would give so you didn’t have to feel this hurt. unfortunately one of many life lessons you will have to learn, immortality doesn’t exist here on earth. but you know that jackson now has his wings. here at grammy and poppy’s house you find peace. running, playing, blowing bubbles. carefree and happy. just as you should be. you two are where i find my peace.
things have been rough for our little family lately. we lost our old guy, jackson. this pup has been with us for years. 14 years old… we rescued him at 3, and since he has lived a long happy life. it was the hardest thing have to tell you girls that jackson was sick and went to heaven. lexi, baby you are too young to understand. hannah, baby girl, you understood all too well. at first said to us, it’s ok. then you went upstairs and i found you crying. you just wanted him to live a little longer. what i would give so you didn’t have to feel this hurt. unfortunately one of many life lessons you will have to learn, immortality doesn’t exist here on earth. but you know that jackson now has his wings. here at grammy and poppy’s house you find peace. running, playing, blowing bubbles. carefree and happy. just as you should be. you two are where i find my peace.
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March 2017
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"Glance Down" by Karlie Austin
From the moment I knew you were growing inside of me I would glance down towards my feet and take notice of my changing body, evidence that I was going to be your mom. It's funny, through the stages I have continued to do the same. Somehow you're always playing, standing, laughing, hugging, crying at my feet.
I know someday too soon I will be glancing up at you, so for now I will remind myself to be grateful for the moments you are there when I glance down.
From the moment I knew you were growing inside of me I would glance down towards my feet and take notice of my changing body, evidence that I was going to be your mom. It's funny, through the stages I have continued to do the same. Somehow you're always playing, standing, laughing, hugging, crying at my feet.
I know someday too soon I will be glancing up at you, so for now I will remind myself to be grateful for the moments you are there when I glance down.
“My peace builder” by Mandy Benoit
Lucy Mae, you are beautiful, inside, outside, and every other way possible. To my extreme pride you were honored for showing your kind heart at school. At home, you pick up where I fall short. You hold Leo so I can get a few things done; You and Anthony are best friends; and You are the unifying link between Kate & Anthony. I swear they are auditioning for World War III when you’re not here. I love you with all my heart & I am so thankful for you.
Lucy Mae, you are beautiful, inside, outside, and every other way possible. To my extreme pride you were honored for showing your kind heart at school. At home, you pick up where I fall short. You hold Leo so I can get a few things done; You and Anthony are best friends; and You are the unifying link between Kate & Anthony. I swear they are auditioning for World War III when you’re not here. I love you with all my heart & I am so thankful for you.
"Five Little Monkeys" by Kendra Knaggs
When I thought about having kids, before I ever really believed I would have them, this is what I wished for.
When I thought about having kids, before I ever really believed I would have them, this is what I wished for.
"Beach day" by Kellie Llewelyn
Our last day of vacation, we decided to make a beach day. I struggled even doing it because it was a 2-hour drive one way with 6 kids and could make a recipe for disaster. My oldest two really wanted to go, so despite my worries off we went. The day was perfect, maybe a little on the cool side when the sun went behind the clouds, but when the sun was out, boy did it feel good. I watched you all play and laugh and it felt so good to have a minute to catch my breath and really enjoy the moment. I feel fortunate that I’m able to do these annual trips with my mom and my kids. Our daily lives are so busy; I worry if I’m enough. Do you all feel the abundance of love I have for you? Do I make each of you feel special? I pray for you each at night and ask that you are all happy and healthy. Is that enough? I will admit some days I am so overwhelmed it feels like I’m just treading water, but I can say with certainty that I wouldn’t change a thing. I look at this picture and I want to run my fingers through Ryder’s wavy hair and then cuddle up to Luke to keep him warm while listening to the kids’ laughter while splashing in the waves and not forget how good these moments feel.
Our last day of vacation, we decided to make a beach day. I struggled even doing it because it was a 2-hour drive one way with 6 kids and could make a recipe for disaster. My oldest two really wanted to go, so despite my worries off we went. The day was perfect, maybe a little on the cool side when the sun went behind the clouds, but when the sun was out, boy did it feel good. I watched you all play and laugh and it felt so good to have a minute to catch my breath and really enjoy the moment. I feel fortunate that I’m able to do these annual trips with my mom and my kids. Our daily lives are so busy; I worry if I’m enough. Do you all feel the abundance of love I have for you? Do I make each of you feel special? I pray for you each at night and ask that you are all happy and healthy. Is that enough? I will admit some days I am so overwhelmed it feels like I’m just treading water, but I can say with certainty that I wouldn’t change a thing. I look at this picture and I want to run my fingers through Ryder’s wavy hair and then cuddle up to Luke to keep him warm while listening to the kids’ laughter while splashing in the waves and not forget how good these moments feel.
“Chaos Theory” by Adrianne Picicci
Things have felt a little crazy around the house lately. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed trying to keep up with all the chaos. Lilah, you have become fiercely independent, wanting to do everything you see Brother doing. Your body is still small, but you are suddenly capable of so much. Those little muscles want to move and climb and dance. My attention is divided as the two of you run in different directions. One kid is climbing on the table while the other is dismantling the pantry. Matteo, you have become fascinated by the inner workings of machines and are always taking everything apart that is held together by screws. Your toys lie in heaps of parts all over your room. “They grow up fast,” we are constantly reminded by strangers at the grocery store. “Enjoy this time,” they always seem to say. So I am trying. I am trying to embrace the chaos and appreciate the everyday details: the messes, the spills, the boo boos, the broken toys. I try to think about what these things reveal about our lives. Those messes were left by children making mud puddles, spraying water, having fun. Spills happened because Brother wanted to pour a glass of milk or open a container of applesauce for his baby sister. The boo boos were kissed away with love and the broken toys reveal the curiosity and determination of a growing mind. Perhaps there is a little space to enjoy the chaos and not always resist it.
Things have felt a little crazy around the house lately. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed trying to keep up with all the chaos. Lilah, you have become fiercely independent, wanting to do everything you see Brother doing. Your body is still small, but you are suddenly capable of so much. Those little muscles want to move and climb and dance. My attention is divided as the two of you run in different directions. One kid is climbing on the table while the other is dismantling the pantry. Matteo, you have become fascinated by the inner workings of machines and are always taking everything apart that is held together by screws. Your toys lie in heaps of parts all over your room. “They grow up fast,” we are constantly reminded by strangers at the grocery store. “Enjoy this time,” they always seem to say. So I am trying. I am trying to embrace the chaos and appreciate the everyday details: the messes, the spills, the boo boos, the broken toys. I try to think about what these things reveal about our lives. Those messes were left by children making mud puddles, spraying water, having fun. Spills happened because Brother wanted to pour a glass of milk or open a container of applesauce for his baby sister. The boo boos were kissed away with love and the broken toys reveal the curiosity and determination of a growing mind. Perhaps there is a little space to enjoy the chaos and not always resist it.
"Sleeping Beauty" by Kellie Pribbernow
You have been enthusiastic about princesses and dressing up for awhile now. So it is fitting that I call you my Sleeping Beauty. But you remind me more of Snow White, with your porcelain skin and your ruby red lips. But then again, you've always been my sleeper. Sometimes we'd come home from the grocery store, and by the time I had all the groceries brought inside, you'd be fast asleep in your bed—shoes off, covered up, and noise machine going. You also use sleeping (or fake sleeping) as your escape from social situations. We call it your “social nap.” If you are overwhelmed when we are somewhere other than home, you will complain about being tired. If there is a place for you to feel safe resting, like at Nana's house, you will ask to take a nap. At 5 ½ years old, you still do this. After a short time “sleeping” away from all the people, you will emerge ready to push through some more socializing until we can be home. Safe. Home, where you can curl up into a ball and snuggle under a blanket whenever and wherever you please. Where you can drift off to sleep at any random time in the day. I love this about you. I love that you know when you need rest. And I love that you already have found coping mechanisms for your anxiety. I will continue to support you in these sleepy endeavors. There is much for me to learn in your capacity for rest.
You have been enthusiastic about princesses and dressing up for awhile now. So it is fitting that I call you my Sleeping Beauty. But you remind me more of Snow White, with your porcelain skin and your ruby red lips. But then again, you've always been my sleeper. Sometimes we'd come home from the grocery store, and by the time I had all the groceries brought inside, you'd be fast asleep in your bed—shoes off, covered up, and noise machine going. You also use sleeping (or fake sleeping) as your escape from social situations. We call it your “social nap.” If you are overwhelmed when we are somewhere other than home, you will complain about being tired. If there is a place for you to feel safe resting, like at Nana's house, you will ask to take a nap. At 5 ½ years old, you still do this. After a short time “sleeping” away from all the people, you will emerge ready to push through some more socializing until we can be home. Safe. Home, where you can curl up into a ball and snuggle under a blanket whenever and wherever you please. Where you can drift off to sleep at any random time in the day. I love this about you. I love that you know when you need rest. And I love that you already have found coping mechanisms for your anxiety. I will continue to support you in these sleepy endeavors. There is much for me to learn in your capacity for rest.
“only three” by Heather Robinson
you wear a brave face. you talk the talk of someone much older. you act the part to. for the most part. but then there are those moments when your littleness shines bright. this morning as i dropped you off with your big brother at the farm school, you clung to me unable to say goodbye. your teacher sprung into action trying to distract you with the usual tactics. she hugged you, tickled you, asked if you would help her take care of the baby bunnies. your little friends even asked you to come play with them. but still you clung to me. your teacher suggested that you sign "i love you" to me at the window when i passed by. so i took my cue and headed out preparing my fingers to return your love. as soon as i left the room, i heard the sobs and wondered if i should turn back to you. instead i kept going hoping that by the time i made it outside and around the building you might be waiting at the window signing 'i love you". instead your brother was standing at the window waiting for me. you were calming down in your teacher's arms. but as soon as your brother told you that i was at the window, you got up with your teacher following close behind trying to lift your three fingers into their proper position. i had my fingers pressed to the glass with a timid smile spread across my face as i watched and waited to see your response. i got it. you hurled yourself at the glass banging your fists against the window screaming my name in a piercing voice. and i stood there like an idiot still signing "i love you" until your teacher came and scooped you up. that walk across the parking lot to the car was the longest walk i have ever taken. i should have went back for you. i should have been the one to scoop you up and take you in my arms and show you i loved you by taking you back home with me rather than thinking that three fingers were enough. three...you are only three.
you wear a brave face. you talk the talk of someone much older. you act the part to. for the most part. but then there are those moments when your littleness shines bright. this morning as i dropped you off with your big brother at the farm school, you clung to me unable to say goodbye. your teacher sprung into action trying to distract you with the usual tactics. she hugged you, tickled you, asked if you would help her take care of the baby bunnies. your little friends even asked you to come play with them. but still you clung to me. your teacher suggested that you sign "i love you" to me at the window when i passed by. so i took my cue and headed out preparing my fingers to return your love. as soon as i left the room, i heard the sobs and wondered if i should turn back to you. instead i kept going hoping that by the time i made it outside and around the building you might be waiting at the window signing 'i love you". instead your brother was standing at the window waiting for me. you were calming down in your teacher's arms. but as soon as your brother told you that i was at the window, you got up with your teacher following close behind trying to lift your three fingers into their proper position. i had my fingers pressed to the glass with a timid smile spread across my face as i watched and waited to see your response. i got it. you hurled yourself at the glass banging your fists against the window screaming my name in a piercing voice. and i stood there like an idiot still signing "i love you" until your teacher came and scooped you up. that walk across the parking lot to the car was the longest walk i have ever taken. i should have went back for you. i should have been the one to scoop you up and take you in my arms and show you i loved you by taking you back home with me rather than thinking that three fingers were enough. three...you are only three.
"A Mirror of Time" by Kristin Rutherford
i have taken an image like this in the past of the 3 of us. in almost in the same exact same place, almost 1 year ago. it is crazy how things changes in 1 year. how our appearances have changed, your room has changed... how big your are, my little baby!! even through the busyness of everyday, i want you both to know that i see you, both of you. every little thing that has changed or is new. my big girl, you have new freckles that I have noticed recently. you have grown taller overnight. you have recently learned how to tie you shoes. you know some of the presidents. baby girl, you hair is getting so long and starting to curl more. you finally have some molars. you are talking more and more. your fingers are getting so long just like mommy's. you are starting to run less like a baby and more like a toddler. so bittersweet... but i love getting to know every little thing i can about each of you, my loves…
i have taken an image like this in the past of the 3 of us. in almost in the same exact same place, almost 1 year ago. it is crazy how things changes in 1 year. how our appearances have changed, your room has changed... how big your are, my little baby!! even through the busyness of everyday, i want you both to know that i see you, both of you. every little thing that has changed or is new. my big girl, you have new freckles that I have noticed recently. you have grown taller overnight. you have recently learned how to tie you shoes. you know some of the presidents. baby girl, you hair is getting so long and starting to curl more. you finally have some molars. you are talking more and more. your fingers are getting so long just like mommy's. you are starting to run less like a baby and more like a toddler. so bittersweet... but i love getting to know every little thing i can about each of you, my loves…
“grateful” by Heather Tully
when I came home today from a midwife appointment that took a good portion of my afternoon, all three of you wanted me to hold you (we settled with me holding two while snuggling one close). we just sat there, soaking in the warm, glorious sunshine streaming through the window. my heart was full of praise to God as I thought about your sibling's little heartbeat I had just heard a few hours before. I really wish I could keep this perspective always- that I'd always see the blessings behind the noise, mess & constant needs. it gets blurry sometimes but that's more me than you. I'll try to slow down a bit more & soak in those snuggles & sunshine. I'll try to keep counting my blessings because gratitude is the best sunshine!
when I came home today from a midwife appointment that took a good portion of my afternoon, all three of you wanted me to hold you (we settled with me holding two while snuggling one close). we just sat there, soaking in the warm, glorious sunshine streaming through the window. my heart was full of praise to God as I thought about your sibling's little heartbeat I had just heard a few hours before. I really wish I could keep this perspective always- that I'd always see the blessings behind the noise, mess & constant needs. it gets blurry sometimes but that's more me than you. I'll try to slow down a bit more & soak in those snuggles & sunshine. I'll try to keep counting my blessings because gratitude is the best sunshine!
"Five" by Rachel Wheeler
When you were five-months old you learned to crawl and pull yourself up. You were tall enough to reach the books on the shelf in your bedroom. You would dump every last one and laugh. Oh how you would laugh as I'd hear them thump thump thump onto the wood floor. Then you'd drag at least one off into a shadowy spot while I was otherwise engaged. And hide. And tear the pages. I could not ferret you out from whatever corner you'd wedged yourself into in order to rescue our beloved books.
Our books no longer need a rescue. They are beloved to you.
Today you turned five years old. You have started to sit and "read." You disappear from the busyness of our days, sneak a book from the shelf and take it to some comfy spot. You turn the pages carefully, taking in each picture, and imagine the story unfolding. Sometimes that story takes root in your mind and grows so big that you wake up at dawn to see if it's still there. I feel little fingers on my face and hot breath on my cheek and soft whispers in my ear, "Mama. I didn't get to finish my book last night. I'm gonna do it now. I'll be very quiet."
When you were five-months old you learned to crawl and pull yourself up. You were tall enough to reach the books on the shelf in your bedroom. You would dump every last one and laugh. Oh how you would laugh as I'd hear them thump thump thump onto the wood floor. Then you'd drag at least one off into a shadowy spot while I was otherwise engaged. And hide. And tear the pages. I could not ferret you out from whatever corner you'd wedged yourself into in order to rescue our beloved books.
Our books no longer need a rescue. They are beloved to you.
Today you turned five years old. You have started to sit and "read." You disappear from the busyness of our days, sneak a book from the shelf and take it to some comfy spot. You turn the pages carefully, taking in each picture, and imagine the story unfolding. Sometimes that story takes root in your mind and grows so big that you wake up at dawn to see if it's still there. I feel little fingers on my face and hot breath on my cheek and soft whispers in my ear, "Mama. I didn't get to finish my book last night. I'm gonna do it now. I'll be very quiet."
"Copy Cat" by Erin Wood
These cats. They are everywhere. They are so much a part of the family. Wherever I
find you, I find one of our fur babies. They walk when you walk. They want to eat when you eat. They
lay beside you when you lay down. They are truly copy cats!
These cats. They are everywhere. They are so much a part of the family. Wherever I
find you, I find one of our fur babies. They walk when you walk. They want to eat when you eat. They
lay beside you when you lay down. They are truly copy cats!
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February 2017
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"Asking for forgiveness" by Karlie Austin
All I can say this week to you both is I'm sorry. With the chaos of our move I know my absence has weighed on you. You've pleaded for time to just be with me.... and now this week my heart aches as I head back to work full time and again more of my time is being taken away from you. I will try harder my loves to give all that I have left to you.
All I can say this week to you both is I'm sorry. With the chaos of our move I know my absence has weighed on you. You've pleaded for time to just be with me.... and now this week my heart aches as I head back to work full time and again more of my time is being taken away from you. I will try harder my loves to give all that I have left to you.
"Familiar" by Mandy Benoit
It blows my mind how what is familiar one day ceases to be the next... or how what you couldn't wait for, but you never thought would come is all of a sudden here. My Leo, this is your spot. This where you hang out, where you sleep during the day, where you get affectionately bombarded with kisses. 1 month and 1 day ago, you were still lodging comfortably inside of me. Amazing. You bring more and more joy to our family each day. I love you wholeheartedly.
It blows my mind how what is familiar one day ceases to be the next... or how what you couldn't wait for, but you never thought would come is all of a sudden here. My Leo, this is your spot. This where you hang out, where you sleep during the day, where you get affectionately bombarded with kisses. 1 month and 1 day ago, you were still lodging comfortably inside of me. Amazing. You bring more and more joy to our family each day. I love you wholeheartedly.
“Superhero” by Chelsea Feldman
You came home from a birthday party this weekend with a paper superhero mask and a finger laser and you have not taken them off since. Your brother carefully and dutifully decorated the mask for you, following your specific directions for color and styling. You wear the mask to dinner. You wear the mask to brush your teeth and watch TV. You would wear the mask to sleep if I let you. Your mind is full of ideas about “good guys” and “bad guys” and how they operate in the world. According to your four year old logic, pirates and police officers are good guys, but robbers and ninjas are bad guys. Mind you, this is all data that you have collected around the snack table and on the play yard at preschool. When we are home together, you tell me you want to play with me and that you will be the good guy, and I will be the bad guy and that when you catch me, you will put me in jail. I can’t help myself… I just can’t run around shooting pretend finger-guns at you. Instead, I tell you that bad guys aren’t really bad, rather they are people who, for one reason or another, don’t have enough love in their hearts. I ask you if, instead of putting the bad guys in jail, we could help them talk about their feelings, and then help them to find a way to feel good about themselves, maybe by giving them something useful to do. You look at me for a long moment, then keep shooting your finger pistols at me and run away. I feel certain that if I keep talking, one day the words will stick, like spaghetti when you throw it against the wall to check for doneness. That is what Grandma Betty tells me worked with me when I was a little girl: she always tells me, “just keep talking!” For now you just keep doing you, and I will just keeping doing me. One day in the future your very own superpowers will emerge, and you will work your magic in the world in ways that will amaze us all. I don’t think you will fly, or shoot laser beams out of your hands, but I do think that the power inside of your heart is mighty and invincible and if you learn to listen to your heart, you will be able to move mountains.
You came home from a birthday party this weekend with a paper superhero mask and a finger laser and you have not taken them off since. Your brother carefully and dutifully decorated the mask for you, following your specific directions for color and styling. You wear the mask to dinner. You wear the mask to brush your teeth and watch TV. You would wear the mask to sleep if I let you. Your mind is full of ideas about “good guys” and “bad guys” and how they operate in the world. According to your four year old logic, pirates and police officers are good guys, but robbers and ninjas are bad guys. Mind you, this is all data that you have collected around the snack table and on the play yard at preschool. When we are home together, you tell me you want to play with me and that you will be the good guy, and I will be the bad guy and that when you catch me, you will put me in jail. I can’t help myself… I just can’t run around shooting pretend finger-guns at you. Instead, I tell you that bad guys aren’t really bad, rather they are people who, for one reason or another, don’t have enough love in their hearts. I ask you if, instead of putting the bad guys in jail, we could help them talk about their feelings, and then help them to find a way to feel good about themselves, maybe by giving them something useful to do. You look at me for a long moment, then keep shooting your finger pistols at me and run away. I feel certain that if I keep talking, one day the words will stick, like spaghetti when you throw it against the wall to check for doneness. That is what Grandma Betty tells me worked with me when I was a little girl: she always tells me, “just keep talking!” For now you just keep doing you, and I will just keeping doing me. One day in the future your very own superpowers will emerge, and you will work your magic in the world in ways that will amaze us all. I don’t think you will fly, or shoot laser beams out of your hands, but I do think that the power inside of your heart is mighty and invincible and if you learn to listen to your heart, you will be able to move mountains.
"Adventures Await" by Sara Garcia
We have started to explore and adventure more as a family. I love watching both of you discover new things together. When you were younger, Jaxon you used to be a little more hesitant to leave my side. But ever since your little brother came into the world I think your confidence has grown. You are showing your brother that it’s fun to try new things. And he in turn is showing you that it’s even more fun to adventure with a friend. You both are teaching me to see things and places in new ways. That’s one of the many joys of being your mother.
We have started to explore and adventure more as a family. I love watching both of you discover new things together. When you were younger, Jaxon you used to be a little more hesitant to leave my side. But ever since your little brother came into the world I think your confidence has grown. You are showing your brother that it’s fun to try new things. And he in turn is showing you that it’s even more fun to adventure with a friend. You both are teaching me to see things and places in new ways. That’s one of the many joys of being your mother.
"The Deep" by Renee Jansen
We spent hours at the aquarium. So much beauty - the giant octopus, the ephemeral jellies, the cute little otters. But this tank was your favorite and mine. The deep ocean. Things can get pretty intense in the deep. The big predator fish are out there - the tuna, mackerel, there was even a hammerhead shark, which you loved. But what had me riveted was the school of sardines. Those tiny, silvery fish, so small in the deep. They are moving together like a poem, always in motion, unplanned but coordinated. They never seem to get eaten. I mean, I am sure that they do at some point, but not in the two sessions we spent watching and watching.
I know you are getting a lot of messages from me these days about being a good friend and looking out for any kids who seem different. In my heart, I know it’s too tall an order for you right now - it’s just too hard to understand and I don’t really expect you to do anything but be the kind hearted boy I know you are. To tell you the truth, I am in the deep a bit myself, unsure of what to say or do when you and your sister come home saying “we got information on what to do when ICE comes to our door!” I didn’t try to explain what Immigration and Custom Enforcement is, or why they would come. Instead, I just slipped those documents in the recycling and thought about the families who might be hanging on to that information, in case.
With this in mind, I asked you, as we watching that giant, beautiful school of sardines, why you thought no one ate them. I don’t know, Mama, you said. Look carefully, I told you. It’s because they all stick together. They survive because they work together - all of them, indivisible.
We spent hours at the aquarium. So much beauty - the giant octopus, the ephemeral jellies, the cute little otters. But this tank was your favorite and mine. The deep ocean. Things can get pretty intense in the deep. The big predator fish are out there - the tuna, mackerel, there was even a hammerhead shark, which you loved. But what had me riveted was the school of sardines. Those tiny, silvery fish, so small in the deep. They are moving together like a poem, always in motion, unplanned but coordinated. They never seem to get eaten. I mean, I am sure that they do at some point, but not in the two sessions we spent watching and watching.
I know you are getting a lot of messages from me these days about being a good friend and looking out for any kids who seem different. In my heart, I know it’s too tall an order for you right now - it’s just too hard to understand and I don’t really expect you to do anything but be the kind hearted boy I know you are. To tell you the truth, I am in the deep a bit myself, unsure of what to say or do when you and your sister come home saying “we got information on what to do when ICE comes to our door!” I didn’t try to explain what Immigration and Custom Enforcement is, or why they would come. Instead, I just slipped those documents in the recycling and thought about the families who might be hanging on to that information, in case.
With this in mind, I asked you, as we watching that giant, beautiful school of sardines, why you thought no one ate them. I don’t know, Mama, you said. Look carefully, I told you. It’s because they all stick together. They survive because they work together - all of them, indivisible.
"Nursing sadness" by Kellie Llewellyn
I've been saying for the last three months that I was going to wean you. On mornings, when I wake up after nursing all night long and feel the exhaustion from the sleepless night before added on to the long day before me I feel like I'm done, but as quickly as I think I'm done, I feel a pain of remorse. I feel anxious, my chest hurts and I feel like it's hard to breath. I feel like I'm letting you down. Rationally I know I need to, but the connection I have with you now will never be the same once I'm no longer nursing you. I will miss our cuddling and watching you drift off into sleep. I will miss your out stretched arms wanting to get in my lap and nurse.
When you get tired, you want me to pick you up and when I do you start slapping at me or pinching. It's something you've done for some time now and the "sign" you need to sleep. We climb into bed and you nurse yourself to sleep. Once your full, you push away from me while trying to nurse and on occasion like to bite, so now before you latch I tell you, "no biting". I am victim to bites too often, which leads me back to the initial realization that I need to quit nursing.
I want time to slow down. I want to know if I will have any more babies to nurse, because the thought that you are my last brings tears to my eyes. I know it's crazy to want to add to our family, but I haven't got that feeling that our family is complete yet. My friends say they knew when they were done; I have yet to feel that feeling, maybe I never will and time and age will decide it for me.
I've been saying for the last three months that I was going to wean you. On mornings, when I wake up after nursing all night long and feel the exhaustion from the sleepless night before added on to the long day before me I feel like I'm done, but as quickly as I think I'm done, I feel a pain of remorse. I feel anxious, my chest hurts and I feel like it's hard to breath. I feel like I'm letting you down. Rationally I know I need to, but the connection I have with you now will never be the same once I'm no longer nursing you. I will miss our cuddling and watching you drift off into sleep. I will miss your out stretched arms wanting to get in my lap and nurse.
When you get tired, you want me to pick you up and when I do you start slapping at me or pinching. It's something you've done for some time now and the "sign" you need to sleep. We climb into bed and you nurse yourself to sleep. Once your full, you push away from me while trying to nurse and on occasion like to bite, so now before you latch I tell you, "no biting". I am victim to bites too often, which leads me back to the initial realization that I need to quit nursing.
I want time to slow down. I want to know if I will have any more babies to nurse, because the thought that you are my last brings tears to my eyes. I know it's crazy to want to add to our family, but I haven't got that feeling that our family is complete yet. My friends say they knew when they were done; I have yet to feel that feeling, maybe I never will and time and age will decide it for me.
“Me too! Me too!” by Adrianne Picicci
When Mama was still pregnant with Sissy, we used to read you this old Mercer Mayer book that belonged to Papa when he was a little boy. It’s about how everything Little Critter wants to do, his baby sister wants to do, too. She follows him around, yelling “Me too!” while he’s riding his skateboard, flying a kite and going on big kid adventures with his friends. He endures most of this with patience, helping his sister climb a snowy hill, balance on her ice skates and even begrudgingly cutting his slice of cake into two pieces. At the end of the book, little sister has a candy cane and, with the tables turned, she shares it with her brother when it’s his turn to ask “Me too?” You used to love that book. We must have read it dozens of times during those months when we were all still wondering and dreaming about what it would be like to add another person to our family. I realized the other day that this book has really come true in the last few weeks. Everything you do, Sissy immediately wants to do, too. When you play with Legos, she wants to play with Legos. When you feel like dancing, she feels like dancing. I tried to feed her some watermelon yesterday and she refused to take even one bite until you came over to the table with your own big bowl and suddenly it turned into a watermelon party. When you snuck Mama’s phone away and crawled up on the bed to listen to a Mike Birbiglia track (which you find hilarious because it’s mildly inappropriate), suddenly she wanted nothing more than to hold that phone, too. Sometimes this “Me too!” is inconvenient for you, but you have been amazingly patient. You usually go out of your way to make sure that when you get a treat, she gets one, too. It genuinely makes you happy to include her. The lesson of the book seems to have made a lasting impression on your little heart, and I’m so proud of you.
When Mama was still pregnant with Sissy, we used to read you this old Mercer Mayer book that belonged to Papa when he was a little boy. It’s about how everything Little Critter wants to do, his baby sister wants to do, too. She follows him around, yelling “Me too!” while he’s riding his skateboard, flying a kite and going on big kid adventures with his friends. He endures most of this with patience, helping his sister climb a snowy hill, balance on her ice skates and even begrudgingly cutting his slice of cake into two pieces. At the end of the book, little sister has a candy cane and, with the tables turned, she shares it with her brother when it’s his turn to ask “Me too?” You used to love that book. We must have read it dozens of times during those months when we were all still wondering and dreaming about what it would be like to add another person to our family. I realized the other day that this book has really come true in the last few weeks. Everything you do, Sissy immediately wants to do, too. When you play with Legos, she wants to play with Legos. When you feel like dancing, she feels like dancing. I tried to feed her some watermelon yesterday and she refused to take even one bite until you came over to the table with your own big bowl and suddenly it turned into a watermelon party. When you snuck Mama’s phone away and crawled up on the bed to listen to a Mike Birbiglia track (which you find hilarious because it’s mildly inappropriate), suddenly she wanted nothing more than to hold that phone, too. Sometimes this “Me too!” is inconvenient for you, but you have been amazingly patient. You usually go out of your way to make sure that when you get a treat, she gets one, too. It genuinely makes you happy to include her. The lesson of the book seems to have made a lasting impression on your little heart, and I’m so proud of you.
"Tantrum" by Kellie Pribbernow
You are my muse as of late. Your little curls, and all of those beautiful pudgy rolls. You have had a joyful, calm demeanor from the start, which eased my nervousness about having another girl. Your older sister is amazing and powerful and creative and caring...but she has also been, from day one, willful and dramatic. Her first face-down-to-the-floor tantrums began before she could even walk, maybe even before she could crawl (they also lasted well into year 5...). But your first is this day, at 17 months. I will take it. You are gaining your independence and stubbornness, but you still come back all smiles and cuddles. And at child number four, those mini scream-fests just don't have the same affect on mama anymore. ;-)
You are my muse as of late. Your little curls, and all of those beautiful pudgy rolls. You have had a joyful, calm demeanor from the start, which eased my nervousness about having another girl. Your older sister is amazing and powerful and creative and caring...but she has also been, from day one, willful and dramatic. Her first face-down-to-the-floor tantrums began before she could even walk, maybe even before she could crawl (they also lasted well into year 5...). But your first is this day, at 17 months. I will take it. You are gaining your independence and stubbornness, but you still come back all smiles and cuddles. And at child number four, those mini scream-fests just don't have the same affect on mama anymore. ;-)
“sweet anamoly” by Heather Robinson
this afternoon my sister texted me hoping that you were planning to do something nice for me for Valentine’s today. i practically choked on my calm water. in her defense, she has no children. i thought about telling her that Valentine’s day like every other holiday has gone to the kids. but i didn’t want to taint her opinion of children anymore than it already is. so, i just said, “thanks”. and the truth is you had already done something nice for me. i asked you to help me make the kids a special breakfast this morning. normally i am still in bed nursing the baby while you are making the lunches and prodding the kids to "quit playing and eat your bagel." normally we don’t collaborate like this. our relationship has become more of a tag-team one. when you are in, i am out. but today we shared our little space. we may have bumped into each other a lot feeling awkward in our anomaly. yet we figured it out. and those three watched with a sweet curiosity as their mama and daddy ran around the kitchen making heart shaped pancakes together. we sure filled our little kitchen with love, didn’t we?
this afternoon my sister texted me hoping that you were planning to do something nice for me for Valentine’s today. i practically choked on my calm water. in her defense, she has no children. i thought about telling her that Valentine’s day like every other holiday has gone to the kids. but i didn’t want to taint her opinion of children anymore than it already is. so, i just said, “thanks”. and the truth is you had already done something nice for me. i asked you to help me make the kids a special breakfast this morning. normally i am still in bed nursing the baby while you are making the lunches and prodding the kids to "quit playing and eat your bagel." normally we don’t collaborate like this. our relationship has become more of a tag-team one. when you are in, i am out. but today we shared our little space. we may have bumped into each other a lot feeling awkward in our anomaly. yet we figured it out. and those three watched with a sweet curiosity as their mama and daddy ran around the kitchen making heart shaped pancakes together. we sure filled our little kitchen with love, didn’t we?
“Exhale” by Francesca Russell
lt was a glorious 60 degrees on Sunday, and so after weeks of gloomy winter weather, it seemed only obvious that we needed to get out to the beach and see the water. Walk on the sand. Smell the salty air. The parking lot was packed - clearly half of Long Island had the same idea as us. It was cooler on the boardwalk, and a whole lot windier as we got closer to the water, but we pulled on our jackets and ran down to the shore anyway. Watching the waves crash onto the sand, inhaling that sea air - it was the best medicine for our rocky start to the year. It was peaceful and cleansing, and beautiful and wild, all at once. It wasn’t until I stood before that vast ocean that I gained some much-needed perspective. It is so easy to let the small things in the day-to-day grow into big things if you don’t look outside yourself. It is so easy to get lost. I took a deep breath and then exhaled. Everything is going to be alright.
lt was a glorious 60 degrees on Sunday, and so after weeks of gloomy winter weather, it seemed only obvious that we needed to get out to the beach and see the water. Walk on the sand. Smell the salty air. The parking lot was packed - clearly half of Long Island had the same idea as us. It was cooler on the boardwalk, and a whole lot windier as we got closer to the water, but we pulled on our jackets and ran down to the shore anyway. Watching the waves crash onto the sand, inhaling that sea air - it was the best medicine for our rocky start to the year. It was peaceful and cleansing, and beautiful and wild, all at once. It wasn’t until I stood before that vast ocean that I gained some much-needed perspective. It is so easy to let the small things in the day-to-day grow into big things if you don’t look outside yourself. It is so easy to get lost. I took a deep breath and then exhaled. Everything is going to be alright.
"reflection" by Kristin Rutherford
i sit here on a beautiful saturday watching you take a tubby. i cannot help but to take a few minutes while you are playing and your sister is napping to reflect a bit. in 3 days you turn 5. my baby. it is such a bittersweet age. so much innocent curiosity, but yet in the same breath so much knowledge of the world for such a young soul. i sit here, reflecting on where i am in life right now. i have been blessed with 2 beautiful girls, a loving husband, a beautiful home, a rewarding career. yet, i ask myself, am i being the best mother to these little girls. some days i am tired and frustrated. i yell because you don't listen, or about the mess the i have cleaned for the millionth time that day. i worry that i am not as present as i should be. my house isn't as clean as it could be. i have loads and loads of laundry to do. i often wonder what my mother would say. would she think that i was doing a good job at this mother thing? and then i hear your sweet loving voice from the back of the car, or while you are going to sleep at night while i am holding you and your baby sister tight, "mommy you are the best mommy in the world", " you are the best mommy that i have ever had"... And you know what, that is enough. enough to know that i may not be picture perfect, but i am perfect to you. so, here i sit with wet footprints on my floor and water splashed up and down my walls, cherishing every perfectly imperfect moment of you and your mess before you are not my 4 year old any more.
i sit here on a beautiful saturday watching you take a tubby. i cannot help but to take a few minutes while you are playing and your sister is napping to reflect a bit. in 3 days you turn 5. my baby. it is such a bittersweet age. so much innocent curiosity, but yet in the same breath so much knowledge of the world for such a young soul. i sit here, reflecting on where i am in life right now. i have been blessed with 2 beautiful girls, a loving husband, a beautiful home, a rewarding career. yet, i ask myself, am i being the best mother to these little girls. some days i am tired and frustrated. i yell because you don't listen, or about the mess the i have cleaned for the millionth time that day. i worry that i am not as present as i should be. my house isn't as clean as it could be. i have loads and loads of laundry to do. i often wonder what my mother would say. would she think that i was doing a good job at this mother thing? and then i hear your sweet loving voice from the back of the car, or while you are going to sleep at night while i am holding you and your baby sister tight, "mommy you are the best mommy in the world", " you are the best mommy that i have ever had"... And you know what, that is enough. enough to know that i may not be picture perfect, but i am perfect to you. so, here i sit with wet footprints on my floor and water splashed up and down my walls, cherishing every perfectly imperfect moment of you and your mess before you are not my 4 year old any more.
"Yourself" by Sonja Stich
Yesterday you asked me to wake you up half an hour earlier than usual to give you enough time to color your hair. This morning, the first day of Carnaval, and funny-hair-day in your school, we colored your hair. Blue. But we both didn’t like it. As you were still happy with the idea to make funny things with your hair, I backcombed it. You didn’t like it. I applied hair oil, even worse. Eventually, you took a shower to wash it all off and decided to go as yourself. Only then you felt at ease with yourself again. You have never been a fan of doing your hair or painting your face, so I was highly impressed with your attempt to overcome your aversion and join in the Carnaval. I am even more impressed by your strength to strive against the stream. That's why I love you so much and that’s why you are not in this photo.
Yesterday you asked me to wake you up half an hour earlier than usual to give you enough time to color your hair. This morning, the first day of Carnaval, and funny-hair-day in your school, we colored your hair. Blue. But we both didn’t like it. As you were still happy with the idea to make funny things with your hair, I backcombed it. You didn’t like it. I applied hair oil, even worse. Eventually, you took a shower to wash it all off and decided to go as yourself. Only then you felt at ease with yourself again. You have never been a fan of doing your hair or painting your face, so I was highly impressed with your attempt to overcome your aversion and join in the Carnaval. I am even more impressed by your strength to strive against the stream. That's why I love you so much and that’s why you are not in this photo.
“illuminated perspective” by Heather Tully
no matter how much I pick up after bedtime, there's always something I miss. sometimes the constant mess is overwhelming but I know one day I will miss these crazy, full, messy days. I try to remember that & soak it in. the light always helps give me a fresh perspective!
no matter how much I pick up after bedtime, there's always something I miss. sometimes the constant mess is overwhelming but I know one day I will miss these crazy, full, messy days. I try to remember that & soak it in. the light always helps give me a fresh perspective!
"Private Time & Favorite Bagels" by Rachel Wheeler
No matter what you are doing or where you are otherwise engaged, the moment I enter the bathroom you are there. “Mama? [Pause] Where are you?” I can always hear your little feet approach, walk around a bit and settle in just outside -- criss-cross-applesauce elbow on knee hand on cheek -- and muster all your patience to leave me be. Of course it never works. Eventually you slide things under the door until I “discover” you are there. Then you giggle and declare, “Mama! I don’t know where dat came from!!! Maybe it was the grem-a-lins!” And then you keep on talking. Telling stories. Asking questions. Shouting to sister. When I open the door, like the dam has broken, you enter mid-sentence, pause and take in the scene. I see you taking mental notes and putting together the pieces of the puzzle that would tell you exactly what I was doing that might keep me from you for those minutes: shower, potty, brushing teeth or clipping nails? On days like today you find me just sitting on the edge of the tub doing nothing. Just being quiet. And being by myself. You take me in and slow down a bit, show me your “favorite bagels,” come close and ask, “What are you doing?” “Well, I don’t really know. I think I was trying to have some private time.” You cock your head a bit and look me in the eyes. “But now I see I was just waiting for you.” You smile. “Mama? [Pause] I love you.” And then you are gone. No matter what you are doing or where you are otherwise engaged, I will always be just waiting for you.
***
Your "favorite bagel" that's not a bagel. Like breadcrumbs through the forest they will always lead me back to you.
No matter what you are doing or where you are otherwise engaged, the moment I enter the bathroom you are there. “Mama? [Pause] Where are you?” I can always hear your little feet approach, walk around a bit and settle in just outside -- criss-cross-applesauce elbow on knee hand on cheek -- and muster all your patience to leave me be. Of course it never works. Eventually you slide things under the door until I “discover” you are there. Then you giggle and declare, “Mama! I don’t know where dat came from!!! Maybe it was the grem-a-lins!” And then you keep on talking. Telling stories. Asking questions. Shouting to sister. When I open the door, like the dam has broken, you enter mid-sentence, pause and take in the scene. I see you taking mental notes and putting together the pieces of the puzzle that would tell you exactly what I was doing that might keep me from you for those minutes: shower, potty, brushing teeth or clipping nails? On days like today you find me just sitting on the edge of the tub doing nothing. Just being quiet. And being by myself. You take me in and slow down a bit, show me your “favorite bagels,” come close and ask, “What are you doing?” “Well, I don’t really know. I think I was trying to have some private time.” You cock your head a bit and look me in the eyes. “But now I see I was just waiting for you.” You smile. “Mama? [Pause] I love you.” And then you are gone. No matter what you are doing or where you are otherwise engaged, I will always be just waiting for you.
***
Your "favorite bagel" that's not a bagel. Like breadcrumbs through the forest they will always lead me back to you.
“Cars” by Erin Wood
Today, I walked past you playing video games and it struck me how much has changed since you were little. I so vividly remember when Mater and Lightning McQueen were your best buddies. Those characters consumed you. You would talk about them for hours. You would line your little cars up in a row and beg me to play with you. We would lie on the floor and I would imitate Mater’s southern accent. You would giggle and giggle, all the while rolling your cars back and forth on the floor.
Nowadays, your friends are other kids your age – teenagers, really. Your activities are more varied. You still like cars, but you explore them in racing video games. You don’t ask me to play with you anymore. Instead, you are on Facetime with your friends from school while you play. You joke and laugh with your friends, but I’m invisible, as it probably should be. I stare at your hands on the remote control. They are no longer the hands of a toddler, or even a boy. They are quickly becoming the hands of a man. But, somewhere in the laughter and the deep toned voice, I still hear the giggles of my little boy. I can still hear your little voice saying “Kachow!” and it makes me smile!
Today, I walked past you playing video games and it struck me how much has changed since you were little. I so vividly remember when Mater and Lightning McQueen were your best buddies. Those characters consumed you. You would talk about them for hours. You would line your little cars up in a row and beg me to play with you. We would lie on the floor and I would imitate Mater’s southern accent. You would giggle and giggle, all the while rolling your cars back and forth on the floor.
Nowadays, your friends are other kids your age – teenagers, really. Your activities are more varied. You still like cars, but you explore them in racing video games. You don’t ask me to play with you anymore. Instead, you are on Facetime with your friends from school while you play. You joke and laugh with your friends, but I’m invisible, as it probably should be. I stare at your hands on the remote control. They are no longer the hands of a toddler, or even a boy. They are quickly becoming the hands of a man. But, somewhere in the laughter and the deep toned voice, I still hear the giggles of my little boy. I can still hear your little voice saying “Kachow!” and it makes me smile!
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January 2017
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“Cold Hands Warm Hearts” by Kendra Knaggs
If New Year’s Day is a sign of what’s to come in 2017 our family is going to have a love and joy filled year! The sun came out and out we went. Daddy grabbed the shovel and carved a path down the hill. Pops gifted you each your own saucer toboggan for Christmas and you, River, surprised me with your immediate enthusiasm to go fast, twirl and tumble into the snow. The smiles, the squeals, the carefree fun that can sometimes be missing from your dad and I in the everyday bubbled up and out onto the wind and into the world. I love our family. I always feel like we are at our best when we are outside breathing in the earth and each other. Being outside has a way of returning you to yourself.
Fresh air also has a way of making you remember. I realized in a new way how much my parents loved me because for the first time I had to tow your growing little bodies up the hill over and over and over. Pops and your Gramma did the same for me and Aunt Kristen and Uncle Jeff. Over and over and over. I wish you could have met her, my mom. I think she would have called herself Gramma. It feels strange not to be certain of that simple detail. I should know, shouldn’t I? You will come to know and love her too, I hope, through me. And I know, deep within, that the warmest of sunrays and gentlest of winds kissing your face is her in the universe finding you too.
If New Year’s Day is a sign of what’s to come in 2017 our family is going to have a love and joy filled year! The sun came out and out we went. Daddy grabbed the shovel and carved a path down the hill. Pops gifted you each your own saucer toboggan for Christmas and you, River, surprised me with your immediate enthusiasm to go fast, twirl and tumble into the snow. The smiles, the squeals, the carefree fun that can sometimes be missing from your dad and I in the everyday bubbled up and out onto the wind and into the world. I love our family. I always feel like we are at our best when we are outside breathing in the earth and each other. Being outside has a way of returning you to yourself.
Fresh air also has a way of making you remember. I realized in a new way how much my parents loved me because for the first time I had to tow your growing little bodies up the hill over and over and over. Pops and your Gramma did the same for me and Aunt Kristen and Uncle Jeff. Over and over and over. I wish you could have met her, my mom. I think she would have called herself Gramma. It feels strange not to be certain of that simple detail. I should know, shouldn’t I? You will come to know and love her too, I hope, through me. And I know, deep within, that the warmest of sunrays and gentlest of winds kissing your face is her in the universe finding you too.
"Time Flies" by Marjolijn Maljaars
My 4 oldest kids are growing so fast, two teenagers and two almost teenagers. I’m so happy to
have them in one frame sometimes. The activities they do changes but my four big kids had a
really good time together in the indoor trampoline park.
My 4 oldest kids are growing so fast, two teenagers and two almost teenagers. I’m so happy to
have them in one frame sometimes. The activities they do changes but my four big kids had a
really good time together in the indoor trampoline park.
“Little Penguin” by Adrianne Picicci
Last winter, you were only a few months old so you didn’t get to play in the snow. This year, we stuffed you into some oversized mittens and a hat and watched you wobble around like a penguin. The mittens fell off constantly and you got cold, but you were elated to have some freedom outside. “Dow dow dow!” (Down) is one of the few words you possess and it has become an important tool as you seek more independence. Every instinct tells me to scoop you up and hold on to your baby days a little longer. I remind myself to let you explore the world. I’m proud of your curiosity and newfound determination. You are a toddler now, my little penguin. May your toddles lead you to many beautiful discoveries.
Last winter, you were only a few months old so you didn’t get to play in the snow. This year, we stuffed you into some oversized mittens and a hat and watched you wobble around like a penguin. The mittens fell off constantly and you got cold, but you were elated to have some freedom outside. “Dow dow dow!” (Down) is one of the few words you possess and it has become an important tool as you seek more independence. Every instinct tells me to scoop you up and hold on to your baby days a little longer. I remind myself to let you explore the world. I’m proud of your curiosity and newfound determination. You are a toddler now, my little penguin. May your toddles lead you to many beautiful discoveries.
"Trains and Passion" by Kellie Pribbernow
Your older brother has always been a fan of trains. But you? You have an obsession. From as soon as you were able, you would make trains of everything, lining them up and pushing them around, your face to the floor. Your hair and cheeks and clothes would constantly display whatever crumbs or dust or fuzz might be lurking on the floors. After your second birthday party, you fell asleep on the ride home clutching a new Thomas the Tank Engine in your hand, every few moments straining to lift your heavy eyelids to glance down in your hands and make sure that train was still there. You'd drift to sleep at night clutching trains, and wake up asking, “Trains? Track? Choo choos?”And now every night when we pray, you thank God for trains and track and tunnels. When we were gifted a large collection of track last year, you went to town with your siblings building massive railways. But you were always the last one left playing with the trains and track, long after your siblings had moved on.
When we put our house on the market this past fall, we had to put the track away. It was too much to clean up all the time for open houses and showings. For a few months, you made your own imaginary tracks all around the house, still chugging away. So when Daddy brought out the beloved tracks during his time off over New Years weekend, it was like Christmas all over again! More hours and hours spent in your own personal Island of Sodor. I love your enthusiasm and imagination and passion. One day these things will transfer into adult enthusiasm and imagination and passion, and whether it be trains or something else, I know you will devote yourself to things that bring you joy. And this will be how you will change the world.
Your older brother has always been a fan of trains. But you? You have an obsession. From as soon as you were able, you would make trains of everything, lining them up and pushing them around, your face to the floor. Your hair and cheeks and clothes would constantly display whatever crumbs or dust or fuzz might be lurking on the floors. After your second birthday party, you fell asleep on the ride home clutching a new Thomas the Tank Engine in your hand, every few moments straining to lift your heavy eyelids to glance down in your hands and make sure that train was still there. You'd drift to sleep at night clutching trains, and wake up asking, “Trains? Track? Choo choos?”And now every night when we pray, you thank God for trains and track and tunnels. When we were gifted a large collection of track last year, you went to town with your siblings building massive railways. But you were always the last one left playing with the trains and track, long after your siblings had moved on.
When we put our house on the market this past fall, we had to put the track away. It was too much to clean up all the time for open houses and showings. For a few months, you made your own imaginary tracks all around the house, still chugging away. So when Daddy brought out the beloved tracks during his time off over New Years weekend, it was like Christmas all over again! More hours and hours spent in your own personal Island of Sodor. I love your enthusiasm and imagination and passion. One day these things will transfer into adult enthusiasm and imagination and passion, and whether it be trains or something else, I know you will devote yourself to things that bring you joy. And this will be how you will change the world.
“a closer look” by Heather Robinson
it was freezing. the sun had just risen. but it was on the other side of the hotel. the parking lot lights hadn’t turned off yet. i was already awake when you crawled into bed with me asking to sit in my lap. you settled for laying your head on my chest with my arms draped over your back. mornings are tricky for such positioning. normally by the time you find me i am either engorged and waiting for the baby to wake or i am already nursing him. either way not much space for you.
this morning was different. daddy had taken the baby and slept in the other room of our suite allowing for just you and i to share the bedroom. you didn’t even stir when daddy brought the baby in to nurse that morning. he came back and got him 30 minutes later and you kept on sleeping. maybe it is your sisters that wake you every morning. without them you would sleep in. i am glad you let me sleep in this morning because last night exhausted me. i thought i was escaping the snoring by separating from daddy. but no. another way in which you take after daddy. i didn’t mind though. being with you was sweet. it has been years since it was just you and i sharing the vast darkness.
after we snuggled for much longer than i expected, i asked if you wanted to open the curtains. you said, “i will after i give you a back rub.” maybe it is a good thing that the curtains were still closed because the darkness hid my tears. they weren’t sad tears. and i wasn’t ashamed of them. but i didn’t want you to see them and worry. i didn’t want you to think that i didn’t love your offer. because i did. i loved hearing your voice saying those words. i loved feeling your little fingers lightly tapping on my shoulders. i loved knowing that this was your way of showing me your love.
when the massage ended 10 seconds later (another way in which you take after daddy), you opened the curtains and noticed a balcony. in the parking lot below was a garbage truck emptying a dumpster. i opened the sliding door so you could step outside to get a closer look. i had forgotten how much you used to love garbage trucks and how i used to pick you up and carry your in my arms as i ran to the window so that you could see the garbage truck before it passed our house. your little bitty voice squealing with excitement. i like to think it was my enthusiasm that brought you the joy more than the actual garbage truck did.
later on we were reunited with your sisters. they excitedly filled you in about their sleepover with gee dee & poppy. you snuck away with gee dee to have some alone time before we said our goodbyes and made the trip home. later she would inform me that you told her that the night before had been the best night of your life. so i was right. it never has been about some garbage truck.
it was freezing. the sun had just risen. but it was on the other side of the hotel. the parking lot lights hadn’t turned off yet. i was already awake when you crawled into bed with me asking to sit in my lap. you settled for laying your head on my chest with my arms draped over your back. mornings are tricky for such positioning. normally by the time you find me i am either engorged and waiting for the baby to wake or i am already nursing him. either way not much space for you.
this morning was different. daddy had taken the baby and slept in the other room of our suite allowing for just you and i to share the bedroom. you didn’t even stir when daddy brought the baby in to nurse that morning. he came back and got him 30 minutes later and you kept on sleeping. maybe it is your sisters that wake you every morning. without them you would sleep in. i am glad you let me sleep in this morning because last night exhausted me. i thought i was escaping the snoring by separating from daddy. but no. another way in which you take after daddy. i didn’t mind though. being with you was sweet. it has been years since it was just you and i sharing the vast darkness.
after we snuggled for much longer than i expected, i asked if you wanted to open the curtains. you said, “i will after i give you a back rub.” maybe it is a good thing that the curtains were still closed because the darkness hid my tears. they weren’t sad tears. and i wasn’t ashamed of them. but i didn’t want you to see them and worry. i didn’t want you to think that i didn’t love your offer. because i did. i loved hearing your voice saying those words. i loved feeling your little fingers lightly tapping on my shoulders. i loved knowing that this was your way of showing me your love.
when the massage ended 10 seconds later (another way in which you take after daddy), you opened the curtains and noticed a balcony. in the parking lot below was a garbage truck emptying a dumpster. i opened the sliding door so you could step outside to get a closer look. i had forgotten how much you used to love garbage trucks and how i used to pick you up and carry your in my arms as i ran to the window so that you could see the garbage truck before it passed our house. your little bitty voice squealing with excitement. i like to think it was my enthusiasm that brought you the joy more than the actual garbage truck did.
later on we were reunited with your sisters. they excitedly filled you in about their sleepover with gee dee & poppy. you snuck away with gee dee to have some alone time before we said our goodbyes and made the trip home. later she would inform me that you told her that the night before had been the best night of your life. so i was right. it never has been about some garbage truck.
“Goodbye for now” by Francesca Russell
You have a very strong connection with animals. I remember thinking it was uniquely special when you were still a baby and first getting to know our cat. There was a sense of understanding between the two of you. She passed away before you turned two, and although at the time I didn’t think you noticed, a few years later, you suddenly asked me where your cat Tallulah was.
Riley, Nana and Pops’ dog, became your best friend as soon as you were big enough to keep up with her and say her name. You’d follow her around the house, lie in her bed with her, and beg to feed her treats. Whenever we were at the house upstate, you’d bundle up and go out first thing in the morning with Pops to walk her. I have a spare key to Nana and Pops’ house primarily so we could go over and visit Riley whenever we wanted.
Sadly, last week it was Riley’s turn to cross the rainbow bridge. We told you the news, and your eyes filled with tears, but you were calm. I asked you if you understood, and you said yes. In the days following you have remained calm, but have had many questions about death and dying. I try to reassure you.
I know that you will have many more questions in the days and months to come, and that the sadness of Riley being gone may suddenly hit you when you least expect it, but know that I will be there to dry your eyes and hold you, and to remember all the good times we had with that sweet pup.
I will tell you these words my mommy wrote to me when Tallulah died:
"I have often thought that animals – especially our beloved pets are our bridge to God. They are so more perfect than we poor humans. They give so much and ask for so little in return. They see us at our worst and look at us only with the eyes of God. They give us comfort and love when nothing, or no one else can.”
And then we will say thank you, sweet Riles.
You have a very strong connection with animals. I remember thinking it was uniquely special when you were still a baby and first getting to know our cat. There was a sense of understanding between the two of you. She passed away before you turned two, and although at the time I didn’t think you noticed, a few years later, you suddenly asked me where your cat Tallulah was.
Riley, Nana and Pops’ dog, became your best friend as soon as you were big enough to keep up with her and say her name. You’d follow her around the house, lie in her bed with her, and beg to feed her treats. Whenever we were at the house upstate, you’d bundle up and go out first thing in the morning with Pops to walk her. I have a spare key to Nana and Pops’ house primarily so we could go over and visit Riley whenever we wanted.
Sadly, last week it was Riley’s turn to cross the rainbow bridge. We told you the news, and your eyes filled with tears, but you were calm. I asked you if you understood, and you said yes. In the days following you have remained calm, but have had many questions about death and dying. I try to reassure you.
I know that you will have many more questions in the days and months to come, and that the sadness of Riley being gone may suddenly hit you when you least expect it, but know that I will be there to dry your eyes and hold you, and to remember all the good times we had with that sweet pup.
I will tell you these words my mommy wrote to me when Tallulah died:
"I have often thought that animals – especially our beloved pets are our bridge to God. They are so more perfect than we poor humans. They give so much and ask for so little in return. They see us at our worst and look at us only with the eyes of God. They give us comfort and love when nothing, or no one else can.”
And then we will say thank you, sweet Riles.
"Longing and belonging" by Sonja Stich
I have always lived by the water and so do you. The soft purling of the river Rhine, cries of seagulls and chugging of barges are the sounds of my childhood, playing with jetsam we found at the riverside everlasting memories. I find it striking and comforting to watch your familiarity with the Mediterranean – which to me is still new. You know how far the waves will reach and when you have to run if you don’t want to get your shoes wet. Because you are watching their movement for more than half of your life now. You know to distinguish multiple types of alga, when and where to find them. Because this is what you play with when you are at the beach. Hopefully one day we will go back to the river, but I love that you always will carry the sea with you.
I have always lived by the water and so do you. The soft purling of the river Rhine, cries of seagulls and chugging of barges are the sounds of my childhood, playing with jetsam we found at the riverside everlasting memories. I find it striking and comforting to watch your familiarity with the Mediterranean – which to me is still new. You know how far the waves will reach and when you have to run if you don’t want to get your shoes wet. Because you are watching their movement for more than half of your life now. You know to distinguish multiple types of alga, when and where to find them. Because this is what you play with when you are at the beach. Hopefully one day we will go back to the river, but I love that you always will carry the sea with you.
"Daddy's Girls" by Jennifer Vidonish
You two are your dad’s biggest fans. The love that flows between you will never compare to the love between you and me. I’m not jealous. I get it. I was a daddy’s girl, too. There’s something special in being a daddy’s girl, having a rock, a safe person to lean on. Your dad, he wins, every time. I wish I could put into words his greatness. The feelings that I get when I think about him. Those feelings are so strong that they are almost hard to describe. I know you know it already, but you won the dad lottery. I’d pick him again. Over and over and over again.
You two are your dad’s biggest fans. The love that flows between you will never compare to the love between you and me. I’m not jealous. I get it. I was a daddy’s girl, too. There’s something special in being a daddy’s girl, having a rock, a safe person to lean on. Your dad, he wins, every time. I wish I could put into words his greatness. The feelings that I get when I think about him. Those feelings are so strong that they are almost hard to describe. I know you know it already, but you won the dad lottery. I’d pick him again. Over and over and over again.
"Children of my Own" by Rachel Wheeler
I was an Auntie long before you two were ever a thought in my mind. I spent countless hours reading to your cousins when they were little. We acted out the Jabberwocky, recited in chorus “big A little a what begins with A?” and tried ever so hard to figure out how on earth Max’s supper was still hot when he arrived back from the place Where the Wild Things Are. It was so fun! There was snuggling and laughing and oh the questions! Then our visits would be over, they’d go home with their parents and one by one as they grew up they didn’t want to read with me anymore. That was the way with nieces and nephews. I missed those times with them. And I wondered what it would be like to read with children of my own.
Now I am a mama and there’s something extra wonderful about feeling the weight of you by my side while we flip back and forth taking in the fabulous flops of Rosie Revere, figuring out how Ivy and Bean will get out of the attic or bickering about whether I’ve missed the page that tells us how to fight the bucket-head zombie. It is so great! … But then, because experience teaches me well, I remember that one day you two won’t want to read with me anymore. I’m already missing these days and I’m right in the middle of them. Isn’t that odd? This, it seems, is what it is like to read with children of my own. Then these moments happen -- I watch you two reading together and I am very happy to see you side by side -- even if not always by mine.
I was an Auntie long before you two were ever a thought in my mind. I spent countless hours reading to your cousins when they were little. We acted out the Jabberwocky, recited in chorus “big A little a what begins with A?” and tried ever so hard to figure out how on earth Max’s supper was still hot when he arrived back from the place Where the Wild Things Are. It was so fun! There was snuggling and laughing and oh the questions! Then our visits would be over, they’d go home with their parents and one by one as they grew up they didn’t want to read with me anymore. That was the way with nieces and nephews. I missed those times with them. And I wondered what it would be like to read with children of my own.
Now I am a mama and there’s something extra wonderful about feeling the weight of you by my side while we flip back and forth taking in the fabulous flops of Rosie Revere, figuring out how Ivy and Bean will get out of the attic or bickering about whether I’ve missed the page that tells us how to fight the bucket-head zombie. It is so great! … But then, because experience teaches me well, I remember that one day you two won’t want to read with me anymore. I’m already missing these days and I’m right in the middle of them. Isn’t that odd? This, it seems, is what it is like to read with children of my own. Then these moments happen -- I watch you two reading together and I am very happy to see you side by side -- even if not always by mine.
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December 2016
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"Searching for Santa" by Sara Garcia
You've been really excited about Santa this year. You want to know all about where he lives, how old he is, what he likes to eat for breakfast. We talk a lot about what Santa represents. Magic, kindness and joy. Your ever curious and imaginative mind is one of my favorite things to watch as you grow. On this day you took out your binoculars to search for Santa and you told me you saw his hat and a little bit of his sleigh in the sky just outside this window.
You've been really excited about Santa this year. You want to know all about where he lives, how old he is, what he likes to eat for breakfast. We talk a lot about what Santa represents. Magic, kindness and joy. Your ever curious and imaginative mind is one of my favorite things to watch as you grow. On this day you took out your binoculars to search for Santa and you told me you saw his hat and a little bit of his sleigh in the sky just outside this window.
"Best Friends" by Marjolijn Maljaars - Haeck
My youngest one with our little cat, they love each other so much. When she is looking for a hug
the cat always want to be her teddy. So cute, it doesn’t matter what my little girl is doing with him,
everything is ok.
My youngest one with our little cat, they love each other so much. When she is looking for a hug
the cat always want to be her teddy. So cute, it doesn’t matter what my little girl is doing with him,
everything is ok.
"Heart Shaped Boy" by Renee Jansen
The other day, you were disappointed to learn that dinner included taco shells as you have trouble eating them. "They will break like a ship hitting a sea bank!" you poetically fretted. Your daddy and I exchanged that look we share when we think you or your sisters are being extraordinary. We think of you as the beating heart of this family with your love and eyes wide open. Sometimes, I fret a bit myself. There's so much softness and sweetness in you that sometimes I worry about how the hardness of the world will enfold for you. I want to think that having a default of kindness will only be good, but these days that doesn't feel so true in the world. Or at least like it's not enough. For now, keep showing me your heart shaped leaves. They-and you-thrill me.
The other day, you were disappointed to learn that dinner included taco shells as you have trouble eating them. "They will break like a ship hitting a sea bank!" you poetically fretted. Your daddy and I exchanged that look we share when we think you or your sisters are being extraordinary. We think of you as the beating heart of this family with your love and eyes wide open. Sometimes, I fret a bit myself. There's so much softness and sweetness in you that sometimes I worry about how the hardness of the world will enfold for you. I want to think that having a default of kindness will only be good, but these days that doesn't feel so true in the world. Or at least like it's not enough. For now, keep showing me your heart shaped leaves. They-and you-thrill me.
“Finding Our Ways” by Kendra Knaggs
You are three and starting to understand the world. And the world, our big beautiful world, is starting to stuff you full of Santa and toys, jelly beans and Coca-cola and more, more, more, more, more. The TV is not where we want you worshipping. It is our struggle right now, not yours, ours. Your Dad and I love us some Netflix.
We are trying so hard to share and create the rituals that will grow you to be kind and loving, passionate and content. Winter Solstice will be our little family’s main event. The details are still being thought through but there will be the breathing of fresh air, eating lovingly prepared food and fire. Big fire. Together. Christmas will exist, small and for the grandparents mainly but it is the spirit of the season that is important. It is the light that we will nurture within you to carry you through the dark. We will turn the TV off and face the sun.
You are three and starting to understand the world. And the world, our big beautiful world, is starting to stuff you full of Santa and toys, jelly beans and Coca-cola and more, more, more, more, more. The TV is not where we want you worshipping. It is our struggle right now, not yours, ours. Your Dad and I love us some Netflix.
We are trying so hard to share and create the rituals that will grow you to be kind and loving, passionate and content. Winter Solstice will be our little family’s main event. The details are still being thought through but there will be the breathing of fresh air, eating lovingly prepared food and fire. Big fire. Together. Christmas will exist, small and for the grandparents mainly but it is the spirit of the season that is important. It is the light that we will nurture within you to carry you through the dark. We will turn the TV off and face the sun.
“Shadows of Childhood” by Adrianne Picicci
As a little girl, reading Peter Pan, I always wondered how it was possible for Peter’s shadow to have a will of its own. In the story, he leaves it behind when he escapes through the window and when they are reunited, his shadow refuses to stick to him. Now I realize that shadows are the perfect metaphor for a child’s imagination, a projection that takes any form a child can dream. That dream takes on a life of its own because children truly believe in the stories and characters they create. I want to teach you this. To let the shadows of your imagination take flight. To embrace your childhood belief that real is what you make of it. Lately, your imagination has been taking over your play more and more. It shifts wildly from moment to moment. “At school, today, there was a baby alligator with his Mama alligator,” you tell me confidently. Then, “Mama, I’m a cute little puppy. Woof woof!” or “Mama, I’m a rocket launcher blaster mobile!” or “I’m being a green blooper monster.” And after the role has been played: “now I’m not a puppy anymore, ok, Mama?” You clarify this, assuming it’s not obvious to me. As far as you’re concerned, I believed, as you did, that you were a puppy named Jinglebells that likes to fetch stuffed animals.
As a little girl, reading Peter Pan, I always wondered how it was possible for Peter’s shadow to have a will of its own. In the story, he leaves it behind when he escapes through the window and when they are reunited, his shadow refuses to stick to him. Now I realize that shadows are the perfect metaphor for a child’s imagination, a projection that takes any form a child can dream. That dream takes on a life of its own because children truly believe in the stories and characters they create. I want to teach you this. To let the shadows of your imagination take flight. To embrace your childhood belief that real is what you make of it. Lately, your imagination has been taking over your play more and more. It shifts wildly from moment to moment. “At school, today, there was a baby alligator with his Mama alligator,” you tell me confidently. Then, “Mama, I’m a cute little puppy. Woof woof!” or “Mama, I’m a rocket launcher blaster mobile!” or “I’m being a green blooper monster.” And after the role has been played: “now I’m not a puppy anymore, ok, Mama?” You clarify this, assuming it’s not obvious to me. As far as you’re concerned, I believed, as you did, that you were a puppy named Jinglebells that likes to fetch stuffed animals.
"Love Note" by Kellie Pribbernow
It had been a rough morning for everyone. I lost my temper and yelled at you for losing your temper and hitting your sister. You wrapped yourself like a burrito in a blanket and sulked face down on the couch, tears silently dripping down your cheeks. You have always had such big, big emotions. But along with those big emotions has always been an astounding amount of empathy. When I am angry or upset, you come ready with hugs and smiles and words of encouragement. At just seven years old, you see these opportunities and jump at the chance to help. When I saw you lying there, overcome, I came to lie down with you. I told you it was okay to cry. Those big emotions have to come out somehow. I told you it was not okay to hit when you are frustrated, but you already knew this. I forgot to say sorry. But you still knew I was sorry. I left you alone to recover. Soon after, I set you to work on a chore while I sat down to work on my own. And then, without saying a word, you came and left this for me. Right in the beam of light. You are my sunshine, sweet boy. I am so thankful for you and your unconditional, overwhelming love.
It had been a rough morning for everyone. I lost my temper and yelled at you for losing your temper and hitting your sister. You wrapped yourself like a burrito in a blanket and sulked face down on the couch, tears silently dripping down your cheeks. You have always had such big, big emotions. But along with those big emotions has always been an astounding amount of empathy. When I am angry or upset, you come ready with hugs and smiles and words of encouragement. At just seven years old, you see these opportunities and jump at the chance to help. When I saw you lying there, overcome, I came to lie down with you. I told you it was okay to cry. Those big emotions have to come out somehow. I told you it was not okay to hit when you are frustrated, but you already knew this. I forgot to say sorry. But you still knew I was sorry. I left you alone to recover. Soon after, I set you to work on a chore while I sat down to work on my own. And then, without saying a word, you came and left this for me. Right in the beam of light. You are my sunshine, sweet boy. I am so thankful for you and your unconditional, overwhelming love.
"Repetition" by Heather Robinson
yesterday you told me that you didn’t love me. it stung. it is never easy to hear those words from someone you love more than anything. but i knew it wasn’t true. you were just feeling sad. it reminded me of a moment you and i had three years ago when you were only two. you didn’t have all the words then that you have now. but your message felt the same. you had a new baby sister and you were feeling like i was hard to reach. i was.
you had had an exceptionally rough morning. lots and lots of tears. we were supposed to go to a playdate at a friend’s house. we didn’t end up going because i couldn’t take you anywhere with those big emotions swirling around inside your little body. so i scooped you up and sat down on the sofa with you. you cried. and i told you that i loved you and hugged you tight. “again” you said. so i repeated the “i love you” and a hug. “again” you said. i repeated. "again" you said. i repeated. we did this for several minutes until your tears turned to laughter.
after the stung wore off from the words you said to me yesterday, i asked if a hug might make you love me again. you reluctantly agreed to try. i hugged you once and you said, “it didn’t work. i still don’t love you.” i asked if i could try again. and you said, “yes”. so i repeated my hug again and again until you finally burst into tears and told me that you love me more than anything. i am sorry i have been hard to reach. again. i knew your love was buried underneath of all that hurt. thank you for letting me uncover it.
yesterday you told me that you didn’t love me. it stung. it is never easy to hear those words from someone you love more than anything. but i knew it wasn’t true. you were just feeling sad. it reminded me of a moment you and i had three years ago when you were only two. you didn’t have all the words then that you have now. but your message felt the same. you had a new baby sister and you were feeling like i was hard to reach. i was.
you had had an exceptionally rough morning. lots and lots of tears. we were supposed to go to a playdate at a friend’s house. we didn’t end up going because i couldn’t take you anywhere with those big emotions swirling around inside your little body. so i scooped you up and sat down on the sofa with you. you cried. and i told you that i loved you and hugged you tight. “again” you said. so i repeated the “i love you” and a hug. “again” you said. i repeated. "again" you said. i repeated. we did this for several minutes until your tears turned to laughter.
after the stung wore off from the words you said to me yesterday, i asked if a hug might make you love me again. you reluctantly agreed to try. i hugged you once and you said, “it didn’t work. i still don’t love you.” i asked if i could try again. and you said, “yes”. so i repeated my hug again and again until you finally burst into tears and told me that you love me more than anything. i am sorry i have been hard to reach. again. i knew your love was buried underneath of all that hurt. thank you for letting me uncover it.
“On the Brink” by Francesca Russell
You woke up early this past Sunday morning, barely able to contain your excitement, and immediately confirmed the date with me. “Is it the 18th?!” “YIPPEE!” you cheered, and bounced out of bed. We were going on an outing to the city that day, to see “a dancing show!” as you called it, at Radio City Music Hall. You picked out your own outfit (“a beeeeyoootiful dress!”) and we headed out on our adventure with you strapped safely in the back of Nana’s car. Watching you that day, I realized that at this moment in time, you are straddling the divide between big girl and little. On the brink. You were full of excitement about all the holiday decorations, you walked block after city block like a champ, and the American Girl Place blew your mind (how are we already in American Girl territory???). You sat up straight and tall in your seat at Radio City, and applauded with vigor after every number. But buried within your five-year-old confidence, you also snuck in a little thumb sucking . . . and then about an hour into the show, you crawled into my lap and rested your head in the space between my chest and chin. A reminder that you are not quite there yet. My sweet girl, these five years with you on the planet have raced by. I am holding on to every vestige of baby that I can, because I know that any day now you will fully take the leap into being the strong, brave, loving, grown girl I see you becoming. I get little glimpses of that girl every day, and I will embrace her with proud and loving arms when she is ready to stay for good. . . but for now I treasure every last moment with my baby, as they grow ever more fleeting.
You woke up early this past Sunday morning, barely able to contain your excitement, and immediately confirmed the date with me. “Is it the 18th?!” “YIPPEE!” you cheered, and bounced out of bed. We were going on an outing to the city that day, to see “a dancing show!” as you called it, at Radio City Music Hall. You picked out your own outfit (“a beeeeyoootiful dress!”) and we headed out on our adventure with you strapped safely in the back of Nana’s car. Watching you that day, I realized that at this moment in time, you are straddling the divide between big girl and little. On the brink. You were full of excitement about all the holiday decorations, you walked block after city block like a champ, and the American Girl Place blew your mind (how are we already in American Girl territory???). You sat up straight and tall in your seat at Radio City, and applauded with vigor after every number. But buried within your five-year-old confidence, you also snuck in a little thumb sucking . . . and then about an hour into the show, you crawled into my lap and rested your head in the space between my chest and chin. A reminder that you are not quite there yet. My sweet girl, these five years with you on the planet have raced by. I am holding on to every vestige of baby that I can, because I know that any day now you will fully take the leap into being the strong, brave, loving, grown girl I see you becoming. I get little glimpses of that girl every day, and I will embrace her with proud and loving arms when she is ready to stay for good. . . but for now I treasure every last moment with my baby, as they grow ever more fleeting.
“Home” by Rachel Wheeler
Three years ago. Our first home - a creaky little cottage in Virginia. You two wandered out to play in the snow, climbed into your car seats to play with friends in their basements and backyards and walked over to our neighbor’s house alone. I watched, and as I watched I was calm.
A few months later. Our second home - a concrete highrise in New York City. You two wandered out onto the balcony to scrape up some windblown snow. I stuffed you into layers of clothing, then into a stroller you hated, so I could push all 70 lbs of you for an hour through snow-covered Central Park so we could play in the overheated lobby of a friend’s building. One night, only two weeks after arriving in the city, I couldn’t stand up. The snow and stuffing you into layers and strollers was too much for my back. You ate veggie sticks all day and I had a pizza delivered that night. I watched. Not calm.
We fled to my childhood home in Connecticut. We needed a break. We needed to escape our new home. "So when are you going to move those kids up to a place where they can have some space?" my dad asked. I took that question to bed with me every night. My quiet tears answered, whispering "not anytime soon." You played for two weeks in the snowy fields of my childhood. You cried when we left. "New York City is no place for children,” I thought, “They need space to be happy."
This is our third winter. You stuff yourselves into your winter gear and run down four flights of stairs. You throw yourselves into this little patch of trodden snow. My body handles the city life just fine and my spirit tries to keep up. Both my body and my spirit needed this scene: a patch of clean(-ish) snow on the sidewalk is all a four, six and forty-three year old need to be happy.
It’s our home.
Three years ago. Our first home - a creaky little cottage in Virginia. You two wandered out to play in the snow, climbed into your car seats to play with friends in their basements and backyards and walked over to our neighbor’s house alone. I watched, and as I watched I was calm.
A few months later. Our second home - a concrete highrise in New York City. You two wandered out onto the balcony to scrape up some windblown snow. I stuffed you into layers of clothing, then into a stroller you hated, so I could push all 70 lbs of you for an hour through snow-covered Central Park so we could play in the overheated lobby of a friend’s building. One night, only two weeks after arriving in the city, I couldn’t stand up. The snow and stuffing you into layers and strollers was too much for my back. You ate veggie sticks all day and I had a pizza delivered that night. I watched. Not calm.
We fled to my childhood home in Connecticut. We needed a break. We needed to escape our new home. "So when are you going to move those kids up to a place where they can have some space?" my dad asked. I took that question to bed with me every night. My quiet tears answered, whispering "not anytime soon." You played for two weeks in the snowy fields of my childhood. You cried when we left. "New York City is no place for children,” I thought, “They need space to be happy."
This is our third winter. You stuff yourselves into your winter gear and run down four flights of stairs. You throw yourselves into this little patch of trodden snow. My body handles the city life just fine and my spirit tries to keep up. Both my body and my spirit needed this scene: a patch of clean(-ish) snow on the sidewalk is all a four, six and forty-three year old need to be happy.
It’s our home.
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