Who We Marry.

The other day Henry asked me some questions: Why do people get married? Who do people marry? You married Daddy, can I marry you? Or can I marry Daddy?

I explained to him that some people get married, and that some people choose not to get married. We talked about marriage and about how people marry who they love- who they want to spend their days with. I said something about having a partner to go through life with, to share the good times and the bad, someone to laugh with and joke with and eat sandwiches and share ice cream sundaes with. We kept it simple- in a couple of sentences I just told Henry that he can marry whoever he wants. Some people marry men, some people marry women. It's all in who you love.

Later that night I thought more about that short conversation. I thought about how interesting it is, to be teaching my child that we love who we want. We marry who we want. If you love someone of the same sex, then you love someone of the same sex. That's just who you are and it is no different than if you were to love someone of the opposite sex. And it's not like my parents ever taught me that being gay is wrong, but there was a "norm" there. There wasn't any hate taught in our house; we just weren't ever around anything other than what was seen as a "traditional" relationship and in effect that simply was just not part of our culture. Boys and girls. This is the way it was.

So I think about growing up and hearing something totally different. Having the norm be LOVE and whatever that means to you. To understand that no matter who you are, what you like, who you love...you are safe in our home and we will accept you for always.

One big wish for our children is that they are always able to be who they are, and feel comfortable being that person. I hope that by giving them a safe place at home to practice that, they will feel confident in standing up for themselves and what they believe in outside of our home as well. So now as I look at our two boys, playing and laughing and giggling and smiling, and I think to myself how much I love these little people...whoever these little people turn out to be.

xoxo

The Little Season.

I was sitting on the living room floor yesterday, surrounded by two loads of laundry, folding and stacking, folding and stacking. I thought about the little socks I was matching and the little shorts I was folding, and the little sweaters I was putting on little hangers. Little. And that's the season of our life right now, little things for little people.

And the other day I was at Costco a grandmotherly woman approached me and said, "Honey, your family is beautiful. Hold onto these days- they go so fast, and in my experience, these are the ones you'll miss the most." Oh. So there I was, crying in the middle of an aisle full of oversized stuffed bears and socks in packs of 50, trying to hold it together while I watched a white-haired woman shuffle away, turning around once to give me a wink, in a very fairy godmother (of perspective) kind of way.

We finished shopping, I maneuvered that big cart up to the checkout, fished my Costco card out of the bottomless pit that is my bag, and paid for our diapers and raspberries (Costco priorities in our world). I pushed that big cart out into the even bigger parking lot, Henry saying "Faster! Faster!" Charlie laughing with his mouth open so wide, the sun shining down, glinting off the corners of that almost too-shiny cart, and I thought of the advice that woman had just given me.

Over the past four years I feel like I've learned so much about myself and about life. Never figuring it out of course, but sometimes, on the luckiest of days, it feels like I've flipped over a puzzle piece I didn't even know was overturned, and found its place among the rest of the pieces that now make sense. All the rest are strewn about, but that piece, that one lone piece, it has a place.

I felt that way when I was pushing that cart through that hot parking lot, noticing the way Charlie's blonde wispy hair would lift with every breeze, and Henry's brown eyes would crinkle up whenever he would turn to his brother and smile. It was no more than a 45 second push to the car but between that woman's advice and taking a moment to appreciate every little bit of every little thing in that little bitty moment, a puzzle piece flipped itself over and slid right in.

And then yesterday while doing laundry I had so many thoughts about this season we are in. The season of tiny things and laughing children and a house that never seems to be truly quiet. This is the season of growing our family. Of little babies sprouting into bigger people, teaching them everything we know, learning from everything they are. One day when Hank and I have done this job and our children are grown up, the lady from Costco is exactly right, I'm sure these are the days we will miss the most. The little season of little things.

So I kept folding, thoughts going around and around. Feeling sad. Happy. Bittersweet really, as I always say when talking about time passing and children growing. One foot in the excitement of tomorrow, the second trailing behind just a bit, lingering for a moment in the afterglow of everywhere we've been.

So whatever you are, be a good one, okay? Whatever season you're in, be there and be so present. One baby is almost four, one baby is almost one, and you'll never, ever be here again. Telling this to myself amidst the tiny socks and little shorts and small, small sweaters, willing myself to remember it all and take it all in, with every fold and stack, fold and stack.

The Sleepover. Except Not Really.

Growing up sleepovers were a huge part of my childhood. My friends and I were constantly at each others' houses, staying up way too late eating snacks and sweets, giggling under sleeping bags and playing "light as a feather, stiff as a board." I have all happy memories. And the older I get, and the more I hear, the more I realize that having only happy memories associated with sleepovers isn't always the norm.

And so last night Henry had his first "sleepover." Except it wasn't really a sleepover, because his friend's Mom (one of my closest girlfriends) spent the night too. For us, that will always be the extent of sleepovers with friends. Either it will be with our longtime family friends, and it's more of a family affair with me there too at their house or ours, or we'll do more of a "sleep-under" where friends can come over in their pajamas, watch movies...then go home by 10pm. Or if it's a sleepover somewhere else Henry can do the same. And maybe that seems overprotective, but regardless of his age- four, ten, thirteen- I can't imagine I will ever feel comfortable letting him go to a friend's house to spend the night.

There are so many articles on the topic, and opinions vary, I know. But for me, there are too many unknowns, and hearing too many stories of sexual abuse has made me much more aware of those unknowns. At the root of it I wouldn't ever want my children sleeping somewhere where there could be someone else there that we don't know. An older sister or brother. A neighbor. A visiting relative. And it's not even that- I am fully aware that I cannot control everything and that abuse most often happens with people we already know, but I feel like if I can do anything to keep him even a little safer, I will.

And I know it's easy now to say "no sleepovers." I have a baby and an almost four-year old. Simple stuff because they don't know the difference. But I wonder what it will be like when I have a preteen begging to spend the night at a friend's house, and feeling like I'm making my child miss out on fun times? We'll see. If I've learned one thing over the past four years as a parent it's to never say never, so I won't...but I at this point in our life I can't imagine I'd ever be okay with it.

I'm curious on your thoughts, too. Where do you weigh in? Are you all for sleepovers, or will they be something you won't or don't allow? I'd love to hear your opinion.

Like a Safety Net

I've been thinking a lot about our day-to-day, and how all of these little moments roll into overarching feelings that define seasons and stages of our lives. When I wake up in the morning and I'm getting ready, it's weird because I know I won't remember this particular morning but I know I'll remember the feeling of morning, and be able to go back and pull little pieces and glimpses from the section of my mind where all the mornings in my little world belong. And I think of childhood in that way too. I can't remember everyday, or even many days, but I have an overwhelming feeling of happiness. Safety. Fun. Henry and Charlie might not remember me sitting with them every morning, sunlight streaming in through the living room windows, us on the couch, reading books...but they will remember that feeling, because it all rolls together, day after day after day. Same with our picnic lunches, walks to the mailbox, the quiet way Henry and I kind of sigh into each other on the couch before bed. And so that saying comes to mind, it's not what you do every once and awhile that is your life, it's what you do everyday. Or something. And it goes with the bad days too, you know. On the days when I lose my temper or feel frustrated, uninspired, use the television to fill our time, this is not everyday. The foundation we am building here, the feeling we have most days, magic and learning and excitement, all of that is there. The freedom to be whoever you may be. Acceptance. Positivity. All of this rolls and rolls and rolls day after day until one morning my boys wake up and they are no longer babies, but grown. And they'll take with them all of it, wrapped up neatly into little packages in their mind, all kind of tied up with little labels stuck neatly on top. If I'm lucky and keep doing my best, my greatest hope in the world is that the feelings we have now flourish into the defining themes of their childhood. Love. Trust. Fun. Acceptance. So I'll keep on keeping on, growing and loving day after day, and remain hopeful that they will always feel this great big love Hank and I have for them. And that on days they might feel anything but, my hope is that those feelings will rise up like a safety net, catching them wherever they may be, and remind them of where they come from and that no matter what, love has always been there.

My Mirrors: Thoughts On Being A Mama

Being a parent saved me, you know. If I was to try and simplify it, I would tell you that I see myself as a very flawed person on a journey to become less flawed. I feel lucky to be surrounded by people who see all of it and love me all the same and push me to be better, and I do the same for them. But when I became a mother it was as if some dark parts of me fell away, and every morning when I wake up and I am given this opportunity to be better, to be my best, I am able to renew and move forward. Grateful is an understatement. For a long time I wasn't sure what my purpose here was, and one day I realized that it was much simpler than I was making it out to be- we're all here to love and be loved. And having children in your life, in any capacity, brings such clarity to this idea. I wake up and see these faces. Joy. Innocence. A mirror really, looking right back at me. Two mirrors. And all I know is that my purpose is to love these little babies with everything I have with this one chance I've been given. And so that first morning in November when they laid Henry on my chest, and then that second morning in August when Charlie arrived, everything changed. Most mothers will tell you that when they birth their child (or meet their child, or adopt their child, or find their child), there is a distinct marker placed in their story. Then and now. I have two. So this flawed person that I see, that I've always seen, looking back at me when I've looked in the bathroom, bedroom, hallway mirror, has fallen away more and more as I am given the opportunity to look at the two mirrors right in front of me. I have been able to see myself through my boys, to see a loving, selfless, kind person who does the best she can. And who loves so hard and so fiercely. I am able to move forward and forgive myself and others, to see beauty in the small bits I may have overlooked before; rolls on a baby's wrist, the way a small nose scrunches in laughter, a brown leaf slowly, slowly drifting to the earth...and in myself. What a gift these two boys have given me, in simply existing. What a gift to be their mama and to be able to grow right alongside of them, as they learn how to be children and I learn how to be a parent; to be able to see myself more clearly and in turn strive to be better, better, better every single day.


Happy Mother's Day to you. I hope you had a wonderful day- I'll share photos from our weekend in Tucson tomorrow. xo

A Bag of Grapes

As we were leaving my parents' house last night my Dad handed me a bag of grapes. To most people it would be just that- a bag of grapes- but to me it was (and always is) so much more. To understand that is to understand my father, and to understand that his way of saying "I love you," is often in the doing of things. It's in him standing at the counter for 10 minutes, sorting through the big Costco-sized container, plucking grapes from their stem, washing them, and putting only the very best into a little ziploc bag, so I can enjoy them on the drive home. It's making sure there are always fresh towels, fresh sheets, fresh everything when we come to visit. It's me reverting back to being 16-years-old whenever I'm there on the couch asking for this and that, and him humoring his totally grown daughter who is a Real Adult and wife and mother of her own now, bringing sandwiches and cold drinks and making sure my seat is as reclined back as it will go, because of course, I need to relax. It's in the way my Dad would always wash my car but not just wash it, vacuum and wax it, shine it and buff it, make it as good as new, all shine and sparkle. It's his cutting and clipping of any and all newspaper articles relevant to my life, the calls with traffic updates whenever I'm driving, the "be carefuls" and the "call when you get theres," and the coffee he will leave for Hank on the counter to find when he wakes up.

This is my Dad. He is vocal with his love but more than anything, his love is in his actions. And now as an adult I see this more than ever. Becoming a parent after being parented your entire life is a funny thing when you think about it. You have these models of what to do (or maybe what not to do), how to do it, what being a parent looks like, and then there you are, doing it yourself.

And last night as we drove and I finished off that little bag of grapes from my Dad, I thought a lot about the parent I am and the parent I want to be. I thought of Henry and Charlie, grown up one day, looking back at me as a Mama- at the things I did and the way I loved them. And oh, how I wish for them to look back at their childhood and just feel happiness. And so all of the little things in our little days, the way I cut the crust off Henry's sandwiches just the way he likes, the happy, sunshiney, good morning song for Charlie, the way we open the curtains with gusto as we get ready each day, the way I always make sure Henry's animals are back in their "home" every night- they're all part of something bigger. Little actions, big love. Teddy bears back on the special shelf, storytime tuck-ins every evening, and maybe even bags of grapes in the car one day too...I look forward to all of these things rolling into the larger story of the way my love feels to them.

What Works For Us: New Sibling Edition

BFF set by Mama Case Prints

When we found out that Charlie was a Charlie we were over the moon. I daydreamed about how fun it would be to have two boys, brothers who would be the best of friends. I was lucky enough to have my sister Lauren growing up and to this day I feel immeasurably lucky to have her through thick and thin (even in our younger days when she would steal my clothes and use all my hairspray and copy everything I did. Little sisters, ya know?). But either way to have that bond would be amazing. Brothers, two boys...awesome.

So of course while I was pregnant Hank and I talked up the baby a lot. We told Henry all the time that his best friend was in there, someone who would eventually be able to play with him everyday and always be there for him. We read books and talked about it constantly. But still, in the back of my mind I worried a little. Up until this point Henry had been an only child. All of our attention all of the time, was focused on him. Henry wants to play? We play. He wants to dance around like crazy in the middle of the living room? We drop everything we're doing and dance with him. He feels like stacking up every cushion from the couch onto the floor and making a huge fort? Sounds good. But I knew when a new baby came along things would change; the dynamic would shift, of course. I wouldn't always be able to play because I'd have to nurse. Dancing around the living room might not always be okay if Charlie was on the floor. And the same with the cushions. Or riding his Big Wheels around the kitchen island. Or playing his drum set any time of the day. So amidst all of my romantic notions of what would be, I had a tiny bit of worry in my heart that Henry would feel sad about all of this change.

the night before Charlie was born

It's been 3 months now and looking back through all the ups and downs, I feel like Henry really was able to adjust well and I feel really happy with how it went. He hasn't seemed upset about the change at all, and more than anything he wakes up every morning hoping that this is the morning Charlie is finally big enough to play. It's so cute. At first when we brought Charlie home he was a little stand-offish as we figured everything out, but I think this was more from being almost scared of how tiny and fragile Charlie was. And of course some days are harder than others- remind me to one day tell the story of when, overexcited by all of the leaves, Henry dumped a pile of them onto poor Charlie while he was in his stroller- but most days are great. I'm no expert by any means (really, it's only been 12 weeks and we have a lifetime of brother-stuff to navigate) and none of this is rocket science, but here's what has worked for us in these first months:

1. We read a lot of books about being a big brother throughout my pregnancy, and talked about it constantly. We focused a lot on Henry's new role as a protector and teacher, and about how it was his job to show Charlie all the fun things in life- how to play, have fun, etc. He loved that and would often stop what he was doing during my pregnancy and say something like "I can't WAIT to show Charlie this truck!" "Big brother" books were also a huge part of this and a great conversation starter- here are a couple of our favorites: one and two. Our most favorite book though, wasn't necessarily about bringing a new brother home, but about being excited to teach your little brother something. Henry changed the names in the book to Henry and Charlie, and we must have read this every night until Charlie came along.

2. Special projects and jobs. My family stayed with Henry while Hank and I were in the hospital and they made a "Welcome Home" celebration for us, complete with art projects Henry made for Charlie's arrival. And even before that Henry worked with us on some special things for Charlie's room- he helped us paint the walls, put together the crib, and move his crib mattress into the baby's room. I also talked to a lot of girlfriends and asked them if they did anything for the older sibling. Some mentioned they had gone with the older sibling(s) to the store to get the baby a special birthday present, so we did this for Henry and it was a big hit. He picked out something for Charlie, and brought it into the room when he met him; he was so excited to give it to him. I can't necessarily say this helped him to adjust, but it definitely helped add more excitement and positivity to the big day. Another huge thing we did from day one and still do everyday, all day, is give Henry jobs to do in relation to Charlie. He has a little step stool in Charlie's room that he stands on to "help" me change C's diaper, always make sure the diaper basket is full, and is in charge of a handful of other little things, like making sure Charlie's toys are put away into the white basket after playtime, checking on him when he's in his swing, getting me a pillow so I can nurse, etc. Like any 3-year old Henry loves to help, so this makes him feel really important and proud.

helping to "carry" Charlie at the doctor's office 

3. Reminding myself to be patient, every single day. This seems like a simple thing but one of my biggest challenges is not getting annoyed or irritated when Henry is loud when we're trying to be quiet. Usually he's doing the best he can and I need to remind myself that he's not even three yet, and just as I'm learning to be a Mom of two, he's learning to be a big brother and share all of the attention that was once his. Or more importantly, that he's being loud because he wants my attention. Another challenge for me was realizing that I was saying "not now, Henry" way too many times when he would come to me while I was nursing Charlie. This was not helping the climate of either of our relationships so now I try to always acknowledge what he is saying and redirect him to something else until I am done. This has helped to avoid a myriad of upset feeling from both sides- either me feeling frustrated with Henry when he isn't cooperating, or him feeling pushed to the side, which makes me feel so guilty and really sad. It's so funny- I always thought I was a really patient and calm person with Henry, but once I was put into a situation where I would be nursing Charlie, and Henry would be on the verge of a tantrum, or I'd be trying to calm Charlie down to get ready to nap and Henry wouldn't listen to my requests to quiet down, I would get SO annoyed. And of course I still do, but I handle it differently now and focusing on patience is so much better. So taking a step back and reminding myself that there is a reason for Henry being uncooperative or extra-loud, and redirecting him (stocking up on quiet activities like puzzles and fun art supplies is key) has changed everything.

Really though, through it all, nothing is sweeter than seeing Henry go up to Charlie unprompted and talk to him, hug him, or sing a song for him. And that smile that Charlie gives him and the way Henry puffs up with pride ("Mommy, I made him SMILE!")- that is everything. And this is happening more and more everyday, and it's these little moments that shine over all of the harder days (the too-loud toy trucks during naptime days, the Henry getting upset at something during Charlie's naptime and waking him up days, the me just feeling frustrated that I don't have enough arms for everyone days). Henry has blossomed so much since becoming a big brother. He's always been exceptionally sweet, but now seeing the gentle and kind way he is with Charlie is just about the best thing in the world. Knowing that this is just the beginning is so exciting too and realizing that these three months are just the tip of the iceberg in the adventures of Henry and Charlie. I can't wait to see what comes next!

Like I did in my first "What Works For Us" post, I'll ask the same questions- what's worked for you when welcoming in a new sibling? Any experiences you'd like to share? Tips or tricks to add to my list?

p.s. I'll leave you with this short video of Henry meeting Charlie at the hospital. This is one of the sweetest moments of my life- a totally unprompted song Henry pulled out to calm Charlie down when he started to cry. The little kiss and "I love you, Charlie" at the end kills me.

 Henry Singing to Charlie in the Hospital from DH on Vimeo.

What Works for Us: Bedtime Edition

I was thinking the other night about how universal this whole mothering thing is. Sure, we all do things differently and sometimes may feel like our way is the right way (something I'm trying to stop doing- thinking that my way of doing or thinking is the best and most desirable way of doing anything), but at the end of the day no matter how we do it, if you're mothering, you're a mother.

I got to thinking about how much I love hearing about how other people do things, especially when they are parents. When I meet a new friend who happens to be a Mom or a Dad I always want to pick their brain- what's bedtime like in your house? What's dinnertime like? How old are your kids? What do they like to eat? Do you get time to yourself? Questions, questions. And then I thought that maybe some of you are the same way...which led me to want to share all of these things with you, piece by piece. I also like the idea of having all of this documented- I feel like one day when I'm old and gray I'll get a kick out of knowing what life was like, down to the minute, way back when. And maybe someone out there is a curious person like me too.

It's sometimes weird to share good things in parenting- occasionally I feel like if something is going really well, like Henry having a 5-day streak with no potty accidents- it might sound braggy if shared. And I hate that! I want to share good things, but sometimes the big world wide web has me second guessing that. Can you relate? But like anything, parenting has good days and bad days, hard things and easy things.

Bedtime for us right now, at 2 years and 11 months, and 8 weeks old, is very scheduled. Of course we try to be flexible whenever possible but it works best when we do it the way we do it every night, night after night. On the evenings we're out and about, or a weekend night, we definitely push it, but falling asleep that night and going through the next day are so much better when we adhere to our routines the night before. So here's how it goes:

Hank gets home from work around 5:15pm and at that point I usually hand over Charlie, who most likely woke up from his afternoon nap around 4pm. Hank will play with both kiddos while I make dinner, and around 5:45pm we will give Charlie a bath while dinner is finishing up. Hank usually handles most of the bathtime duties but depending on what Henry is into or how dinner is going I'll help out too. More often than not the whole family will end up in our bathroom hanging out while C is getting his bath, Henry almost always finding his way into our closet to "look for treasure" and me sitting on the bathroom counter.

After bath time Hank will hand Charlie to me, and I'll get him in his pajamas, put his Snuza on, and zip him into his wearable blanket. I'll then get cozy in our bed with him, Boppy around my waist, water on the nightstand. Hank and Henry will come over and say goodnight, and then Hank will turn on the monitor and the noise machine and then those two will go eat dinner and read, play, whatever- total Daddy and Henry time.

I spend about 15 minutes or so nursing Charlie and he will always fall asleep within that 15 minute time frame. I'll then burp him and put him in his little co-sleeper, sit there for a minute to be sure he's down, then quietly get up and leave the room (we have a baby monitor in there). This is all by 6:15pm. He's SUCH a funny baby, and will start to get really fussy if he's not in bedtime mode once 6pm rolls around. He really loves his sleep, and wants to sleep, and I've found that if we try to put him down even a little earlier (even if he's fussy) he will have a hard time going down and staying asleep. 6pm is our magic time, but if we have to push it later he's okay too. Luckily Charlie is a good sleeper, so after I put him down he will stay asleep for quite some time. Lately it's been getting later and later. First he'd wake up at 9:30pm, then 12:30, and now he's been sleeping until about 3:30am and sometimes 4. My big problem is actually going to bed early myself to take advantage of that big chunk of sleep (as I type this it's approaching 9:30pm already). But that's Charlie's bedtime routine.

Henry on the other hand can be a little more challenging depending on the day and his mood. He's a typical almost-3-year old so he can alternate between being very cooperative to not at all. So while I'm putting Charlie to bed Hank and Henry are playing, but once 6:30 rolls around we pop Henry in the tub and give him a bath, then brush his teeth and put on his pajamas. Henry is pretty much potty-trained except for nighttime and still wears diapers to sleep, but sometimes he will want to try and "go" like 4-5 times before bed. I'm sure this is just him prolonging staying up, but it's hard to discourage that when it's what we want him to be doing. So sometimes that can add on extra time to his ideal 7pm bedtime but Hank and I just try to be patient.

After we finish up all of our bathroom stuff it's reading time. Hank, Henry and I will all pile into his bed and read 4-5 books together before our "Mommy-Daddy-Henry-time" (as he calls it), which is really just a big snuggle session. He started to really ask for "snugs" every night once Charlie was born and it's so adorable to me that I can tell he really treasures this time just the three of us. So we cuddle up and talk about our day, say "I love you" a million times, then Hank and I will get up and leave (probably after about 10 minutes), turn on his sound machine and monitor, and close his door and put up the baby gate on the outside. We never stay in there while he falls asleep and never have, because I wanted him to be able to do it on his own. 9 out of 10 times bedtime is smooth sailing but every once and awhile Henry will call for us to come back in for more "Mommy-Daddy-Henry-time" or and this is where we have to get firm. It's funny though, because he still asks to get out of his bed (let's hope this lasts for a long while), so we've never had an issue with that- it's mainly just him calling for us because he wants to hang out more, needs water when he doesn't, etc. A few months back he went through a phase where he was freaked out by shadows on the wall but that passed, thankfully. He sleeps the whole night through and wakes up around 6:30am, sometimes 7 if we're lucky, but sleeps hard and rarely wakes up in the night. Our next challenge though will be losing the diapers during nighttime sleeping, so if you have any tips, let me know!

So that's how we do bedtime. Both boys are good sleepers and besides luck, I really attribute that to following a schedule from day one with Henry. Charlie is down at 6pm and Henry at 7. It was all trial and error with Henry (as it is with most first children when you have NO idea what you're doing), but once we figured out the magic time for him it was so much easier.

Does our bedtime routine look similar to yours? Is there anything special you do? Any routines you'd like to share? You know me and my questions...so do tell!

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And p.s., I'm planning on continuing this little series to talk in detail about different parts of our day, so if you have something you're curious about, let me know in the comments!

Be Careful

This morning the boys and I walked down to the park to meet up with my friend Lauren and her daughter Brooke, toy cars and a bag to collect rocks and leaves in tow. We've had the most beautiful weather lately, those kind of days that start out really cold but then slowly, slowly warm up ever so gently as noon rolls around; the kind where you begin the day bundled up but by afternoon you're in a t-shirt and jeans. Pretty perfect.

And today we walked down to the park in this gorgeous weather, and ran into another friend and her boys. I always find it fascinating to watch Henry interact with other kids, and even more fascinating to hear a lot of the things I say to him come out of his mouth. One of the boys had a toy car Henry so badly wanted to play with and I was curious how he would handle the situation with an unfamiliar playmate- we work on sharing all day, everyday, but with each other and our familiar friends, like Max and Brinley- not always with people we don't know. So I stood back and watched. I heard him say so politely, "hi, may I have a turn? I'd really like to try out your toy." And this very sentence just so happens to be what I say to him when we're playing, almost verbatim. It was wild to realize that yes, this parenting thing is working, and also crazy to think about how much he is taking in, even when I don't always notice.

So the morning went on and the kids kept playing, and soon the boys ventured away from the climbing equipment and onto the hiking trail that's directly behind the larger playground. My first instinct was to tell Henry not to go (what if there were snakes in the grass! or sharp, thorny bushes! or...something!) but I held back my immediate urge to yell "Henny, be CAREFUL!" and instead thought about my own childhood. I grew up in the forest, trees on all sides, deep, deep woods for acres and acres. My sister and I would spend hours exploring- turning over rocks, collecting leaves and acorns, digging in the dirt and taking the trails behind our home when we got a bit older. I remember so much of that, and I remember feeling safe and protected. But what I don't remember is my Mom yelling, "Danielle! Be CAREFUL!" every two minutes, or anytime she may have felt like we could get dirty or hurt.

Parenting, in a nutshell, is letting go of your child a little more everyday. It's growing together while growing apart, and giving them enough room to become who they will be. I'm learning this. And although it's hard for me to embrace my laid-back side, the side that doesn't mind when Henry jumps into a mud puddle with his "good" shoes on, or wants to venture into uncharted territory without holding my hand, I'm realizing that all of this is important in Henry's growth. Outside of normal situations that are just plain unsafe, he needs to be free to explore and learn and figure out things on his own. At almost three my baby boy is truly turning into his own person, and the only way he will ever fully become that person is for me to let go of my own tendencies to hold on maybe a little too tight.

So today when I held back my "be careful" and instead watched Henry run through the fields of thorny bushes and yellow flowers, I got to see my little boy grow a little older and gain a little more confidence. And guess what? He was careful, without me even saying a word. And when playtime was over and it was time to pack up and walk home, my wild-child dug a half-crushed flower out of the pocket of his gray jeans and said, "for you, Mommy."

This parenting stuff is tricky, but I'm learning a little more everyday, right alongside Henry and Charlie. And this yellow flower is sitting here on my desk, to remind me that it's okay to let kids be kids. I don't have to control every moment, hold Henry back because of my own fears. We work on building him up, and everyday we need to teach him to fly, little by little, until one day, he can do it all on his own.

Sunday Focus

Today we took Henry to his first movie, which I'll talk about more tomorrow, but after the film as the three of us were driving home, Hank and I asked Henry which part he loved best- which parts made him happy. Without skipping a beat, Henry told us about the parts he didn't like- he mentioned the scariest scene of all, talked a bit about one part where two characters were fighting, and discussed how upset he was with one of the villains. We listened as he went on and on, and after he was finished we talked to him for a moment about yes, how great it is to recognize when we don't like something, but how important it also is to focus on the good parts of things and remember those.

Once we got home and put him down for a nap (after listing all of our most favorite parts of the movie!), I realized that I should be taking my own advice. Sometimes I get caught up focusing on tiny bits of negativity from this person or that person, worrying unnecessarily about situations I can't change, filling up my mental space with things that just aren't productive. And sure, recognizing what we don't like is absolutely worthwhile, but how about focusing on all of the good? How about setting our sights on all of the amazing things going on right now and taking stock of all of the happy bits that often go unnoticed?

It's still so funny how much this little boy teaches me. Before I became a Mom I always thought it would be my most important teaching role yet, but I've come to really understand that my role as a student is just as meaningful.

The Days are Long, but the Years are Short.

It's weird, to think about Henry being older than he is now. And I know I said that when he was just an infant, then when he turned one- I said it constantly. It was hard to picture him one day talking, walking, doing anything other than laying there on his baby blanket making those cute little sounds. But lo and behold, he grew more and more (and more), and at every stage I thought the same thing, surprising myself every time he was suddenly onto the next stage.

Lately though it's been different- I've been having these flashes of what our little guy will be like when he's much older. And I can imagine it, suddenly. I can see his little preteen eyes rolling, I can see that look he gives me now, the one that says, "C'MON MOM..." and I can envision him giving me that look in years to come. His hair, those hands, those running feet, one day all grown up and doing their own thing.

It's wild isn't it, how fast it goes. I know, I know, how cliché can I be? I say it all the time, everyone says it all the time. It's a well-discussed topic on my blog. And before I was a Mom people said it constantly; "oh, wait until you have kids, those days will fly by and before you know it you'll have a grown adult on your hands." I would always smile politely, but in the back of my mind I'd be like, come on- time is time! But as you can probably guess, it is not. Time is indeed much faster when there is a child involved- double speed, triple speed, and through every day-week-month the pace only quickens.

So these little mornings Henry and I have- regular old mornings like today- where we go out to breakfast, go to the park, adventure somewhere new, these days are numbered. I realize this. There's a little hourglass of his childhood whose sand is always falling. And although he is only two and we have a long way to go, it's always on my mind. The days seem so slow sometimes, but I know how quickly they all go by. So I savor them, I put pieces of them in different places- on my camera, in my mind, I stamp them permanently onto my memory.

Henry was once an infant, an unbelievably small little thing that cooed and hiccuped and nestled into the space between my neck and my shoulder. And then he was rolling, crawling, walking, running. He was making noises, then words, then sentences- and now he tells me everything on his mind, stories and hopes and plans. And now that I can see my little guy becoming a big guy, I can finally envision it and see it happening. It's hard and it's beautiful, and true to human nature I want to stop it all at once and keep it going to see what's next.

And I think this sums it up perfectly: "The days are long, but the years are short." Hourglass sand and bits of memory, days and weeks and months, all rolling into the big picture.


Quote source- and be sure to watch the video too.

We are the makers of memories.

Somewhere in the future Henry will be grown up and think back to being little. So many of these days seem so ordinary- sitting on the floor playing, grocery shopping, park dates and long walks. But somehow they all weave into this tapestry that stretches on for years and lasts forever; something he will look back on, something that will color so many parts of his future- his childhood.

So I try to make these everydays count. To parent and live deliberately. To be present, and to make ordinary things extraordinary, the regular somehow special. And when it comes to the holidays, I try and make new traditions for our family and create warm memories that Hank and Henry can carry with them as time goes on. Sometimes it's the little things- like the other night when we were all crying from laughing so hard, and every time one of us would crack a smile it would throw all of us into a terrible fit of giggles once again. Or tonight, when it was just Henry and me cuddled up on the couch watching old Christmas movies and eating sweets. He looked up at me and said two words so simply- "I'm happy." These are those days that become so much more.

And it's the big moments too- picking out Halloween costumes, our annual birthday morning surprises, putting up our Christmas tree every year. And it's those special times like our evening at the Polar Express last weekend- Henry's very first train ride. Nothing will ever compare to the moment when he looked at both Hank and I and said, "I RIDE THOMAS!" with the biggest grin spreading across his face.

In a way Hank and I are getting to relive our childhood all over again; we're able to revisit our own memories, dip into the nostalgia we both feel for times gone, and make them fresh again with our son. Isn't that one of the best parts of parenting? To be able to make a choice that you'll do things differently this time around, or in lucky cases, do things in exactly the same ways you experienced as a child.

It's amazing to think of our children's memories as blank canvases. We are the creators. We make these days count. We have a lot of roles as parents, but the maker of memories is one to be taken so seriously, and I hope one day Henry can look back and feel warm, and happy, and know he was so very loved.

Little Moments I Never Want to Forget

photo by Emily Snitzer - more of these to come next week

Everyday there are these moments that I never want to forget. Little snippets in time where my hurts aches so badly in the best way for how full it is, for how good it all is in the here and now. It's hard though to remember it all with time moving so fast, so I almost always try and jot down those memories on little pieces of paper, or in the memo section of my phone before I forget the details. And today I thought I would compile some of my favorite recent moments here too, so you could enjoy a little bit of Henry's sunshine!

The other morning I asked Henry if he could pick out a shirt to wear for the day and looked me square in the eye and said, "Okay, babe."

Henry eating Goldfish, holding up one to me and saying, "Cheers, mama," reaching his little orange snack towards me so we could clink them together.

The other night before bed we read A Pocket for Corduroy for the first time. As we got to the part where Julie leaves Corduroy there, Hank and I notice a tear sliding down Henry's cheek...and then a moment later he's softly crying. He was mesmerized throughout the entire story, and to know he really got what was going on, and felt Corduroy's sadness at being left alone, broke my heart. It was amazing to see him feel like that, and even though I was so sad that he was sad, it made me feel happy we're raising a thinking, feeling boy. I hope he always, always knows it's okay to be sad, to cry, and to show his emotions.

A couple of weeks ago we were at my parents' house eating dinner when out of the blue Henry looks around the table at all of us and says "I'm happy," with a big smile on his face. I'd never heard him use that word before when speaking for himself, so it was an amazing surprise.

Henry will often say "come on, Mama!" when he wants to get going or play. It might not be that funny without hearing it, but nothing makes me laugh more than trying to get ready and to have this little guy saying "come onnnnnn!" with that little look on his face. I like to imagine him tapping his foot impatiently too.

Just last night while we were putting Henry down to sleep, he said "group hug, guys!" and enveloped Hank and me into the biggest hug.  I died a couple times from cuteness, right then and there.

xoxo