I think I’ve had about 72 “I am a mom” moments since my two littles were born. I had them for sure when I was peed or puked on for the first time, and during the all-nighter with a sick baby when I was desperate to take the illness away. It didn’t matter that I was exhausted when my feverish infant needed me in the night. 

You know the feeling, right? If only my kisses and love could have cured what pained that baby. If only Mama could have fixed it. 

Sometimes we get lucky during those moments, and it occurs to us that we can indeed do something big to help. For our family that meant a lifestyle overhaul, not just for our baby girl, but for all four of us. 

About 15 months ago our lives changed. My baby girl’s skin was almost always covered in eczema and/ or hives. She was such a happy baby, and it broke my heart to see her scratching at her skin, trying to alleviate the pain, and itching only to make it worse. Her doctor at the time didn’t think that she needed to see a specialist. 

I thought differently. So we went, without a referral, to an allergy specialist (And a new family doctor because, I mean…) and that was the day our lives changed, and got much better for our Plum. At 12 months old, the tests showed that she had multiple food allergies, including a life-threatening peanut allergy. We were sent home with an Epi-Pen, scared to death that we would somehow not know what to do should we ever need to use it. 

I remember driving home that day, shaken. This would mean a lot of work on our part to keep her food safe. At a stop light, I looked at my baby in the rearview mirror. Through my tears, I made her a promise that I would do everything in my power to make our lives fit with her needs. I promised her that our home would be safe for her to live in freely, and that I would care for her in every way that I could. It was the most profound “I am mom” moment I have ever had. My baby needed me to move a few mountains for her, and that was the day we pulled out our shovels. 

Fast forward 15 months. Today, Plum was diagnosed today with asthma. My girl officially has the third piece of the childhood immunology pie: allergies, eczema and asthma. That’s a pie no one wants to see completed for their child, but here we are. It’s not something I can change for her, but (and that’s a big ‘but’) I can do a whole heck of a lot to help her. As her mom, I do have the power to make her life more comfortable. As a family, we decided to change our habits for her. 

And this is what we do. 

Her eczema, asthma and allergies are controlled not only by medication but also by using perfume and dye-free natural bath products, not just for her, but for all of us. We use free and clear laundry detergent and fabric softener. We use all natural and chemical free lotions, not just for her, but for all of us. When I clean the house (and let’s be honest, that’s not all the time, but when I do) we use natural and chemical-free cleansers, not just for her, but for all of us. 

When we eat a meal it is safe for her, and for all of us. The diapers we use, the places we eat out, the clothing we buy, and the products we use are all carefully chosen. Basically, anything that comes into our home has to pass the test questions: Is this an allergen for her? Will this irritate her skin? Will this flare her asthma? 

I cannot keep my daughter safe from all of the world, but I can keep her safe in our home. It can and should be her safe haven, for her and for all four of us. 

So now tell me, have you ever had an "I'm a Mom" moment? 

I was sitting in church a few Sunday's ago when the speaker said "Mr. Pants is happy when he is with his dad". The service was a celebration of the children of our church and they had asked the kids the question "What makes you happy?" My heart skipped a beat hearing his answer and tears came to eyes. I was bummed that Daddy was working that day and he didn't hear it for himself. 

***

A week ago when Plum was in the throws of uncontrolled asthma, I broke down and cried. I felt helpless. And damn,  I hate hate hate not knowing what to do. When I gathered myself and returned to the living room I found Plum in the calming embrace of her daddy. "She's going to be ok, Mama", he said to me. Sometimes I just need him to say that and he knows it.

***

Every night when we put the kids to bed, we ask them "What was your favorite part today?" Two nights ago Pants answered, "I go on a abencher (adventure) with Daddy". I felt that fullness in my chest that happens when your heart suddenly grows a little. These kids, they are so in love with this guy. And their mama is too. 


I'm leaving today for a three days away from my family. I'm going to commune with my sisters for a few days and fill up my tank a bit. I could be worried about leaving them. Lord knows I have stressed about it the years before. I haven't gone for the full weekend away since these two were born. But this year I am. Three whole days. Away. 

And these three? They will be just fine. 

Hey buddy, 

When did you get so big? 

Sometimes I catch sight of you and see it. It's right in front of me. The longer legs. The bigger feet. The growing up. 

My breath is quiet as it comes back. You are suddenly so much bigger. It's no wonder you ate hand over fist for a week. It takes food to grow. And it's clear now that you were growing. A lot. 

You are so long and lean. And dude, your hands and feet are enormous. Does that mean you will sprout taller than daddy? You know, like a puppy with giant paws? 

Bud, you are so strong. Sometimes we call you the pit bull because of your superhuman muscles. You can even take down your dad if you want. He loves that. 

You need to know that the sun shines on you wherever you go. You are sandy and dirty and scraped up every day. You are my big boy. And my baby. You will always be my baby. Don't forget that while your busy growing big, ok?  

You're turning four years-old tomorrow and I just can't believe it. It feels like yesterday that you were snuggled to my chest sleeping. Our heartbeats in sync. You would sigh really big when you were comfortable. I loved that. 

It was on this night four years ago that I was so close to meeting you and I was a little anxious. I was worried about being your mama. Because I wanted to be the mama that you deserved. I lay in my bed that night thinking about what you would be like. Your voice. Your face. Your personality. I was so excited to meet you. That was the last night I felt you moving in my belly. The next day you were in my arms and you made my dreams come true. You are perfect, little dude. You are just perfect. 

Thank you for choosing me to be your mama. It's an honor that I don't take lightly. I never will, bud. You have made me a better person. You really have. You have shown me what unconditional love is. You have shown me that we can do this big job of raising you. And you have shown me that there is nothing more powerful than my child's love.

Happy Birthday, Mr. Pants. You are the shining light of my heart. I can't believe you are mine. 

Love, Mama

So my best friend Jessica does a little interview with her daughter on her birthdays. I think it's the best tradition ever and decided to steal it. Pants wasn't big on sitting down and answering my questions. He was fidgety by my third question and then absolutely bored to tears by the fifth. I was astounded that I got ten questions out before he decided my "fun game" was not as fun I told him it would be and refused to talk to me anymore. Below you will find his answers. A little peek into his world...

So I was a little crabby (read: dramatically depressed and angry all rolled in to one) when Daddy said he had to work on Mother's Day. I was all, "But it's MY day! MINE! I need pampered and loved and the WHOLE DAY OFF, dammit!"  It is entirely possible that I sulked. My feet may have been heavy to the ground too. I also plead no contest to the accusation that I was putting the dishes away loudly. Ok, fine, I deep sighed a lot too. But then,  moments later I was given the perfect reminder that I needed to zip my lip and get a hold of myself. 

Mr. Pants had been doing what he does best (getting into things he's not supposed to) when he sauntered on over to me with something in his hand. He gave it right to me the first time I asked. It was an old CD. One that was very important to me.

Seven years ago I went to Grand Central Station with my best friend. We wanted to be a part of StoryCorps, an awesome living history project that began recording stories of survivors after 9/11 and eventually expanded to become an oral history project filled with the voices of any and all Americans who wanted to record an interview. Preserving life, one hour at a time. Below is an excerpt of the interview I did with Jessica, my best friend of over 20 years now. There were three of us in the room that day. Jessica was pregnant with her amazing daughter. After talking about what it felt like for her to be pregnant, she asked me a seemingly simple question. Have a listen...

I can still feel that turn in my stomach as I fought those tears. The flush in my cheeks. The feeling of my breath leaving my body and not coming back quick enough. The pause of my heart. I remember it like it was just yesterday. What if I never become a mother?  I remember when my heart started to beat again. It sped up too fast. When my breath came back it hurt. This moment in my life was so powerful. It's one I will never forget. 

I want to go back and give that girl a hug and tell her to take a deep breath. And that there are two babies waiting for her. That belong to her. They are already a part of her. She just doesn't know that yet. And it is even better than she thought it could be. It's harder too. A much bigger job than she thinks it is right now. 

I want to tell her all about her kids. That her first born will be a son. That he is an awesome ball of energy that will challenge her to be better.  He will help her find her way with him. All she has to do is let him. I want to tell her that her daughter will come 21 months after her son. And that her emotions are sometimes bigger than she is and it overwhelms her. But she knows how to help her through that. After all, she knows the feeling. 

I want to tell her that it's coming. It's just a few years away. To hang in there and not worry. But I know that she will worry for years. Waiting. Hoping. Loving her future babies. Almost giving up hope so many times. 

But I cannot go to her and tell her. So instead I tell myself that the holiday I so desperately wished would someday be mine to celebrate, is not about a day in May to run away from them. Maybe next year I will spend the day at the spa being pampered. But this year is a reminder that my dreams have come true. I waited a long time for sticky fingers and slobbery kisses. I have waited what feels like a hundred years to hear those sweet words come out of the cracker filled mouth of my toddler. I wuv you, mommy.

Oh, My loves, I will love you forever.

So this Mother's Day I'll be at home soaking up the gift I have been given, the love of these babies that are mine. Finally. And I can't think of any spa that can compete with that. 

Happy Mother's Day. Especially to those of you still waiting for your babies. 
May you find them. Keep believing. 

My Babies, 

When I heard about the bombs at the Boston Marathon on Monday, I felt some of the things I imagine a lot of people did. Shock. Horror. Sadness that turned to anger. 


Why did this happen? Who would DO something like this? I hope they find this/these depraved human/s and slam justice down on them. What is wrong with people?

My heart beat faster. 

So I started to breathe. I recognized that I was about to spend hours watching live news feeds and scanning through pictures of the carnage. It was at this moment when I whispered to myself. Don't. You don't have too. It's ok. And so I stopped and I did the only thing that I could do. I took you by the hands, walked away from the computer and back into your lives. 

I left the sink filled with dirty dishes. The dishes won't be changing the world or helping to heal it in their own small way. And sometimes on days like yesterday things become so very clear to your mama. There is so much that is right with people. 

For the rest of the day we played. All four of us.  We giggled. We hugged. There were extra bubbles in your bath. There was no frustration when your snack hit the carpet. There was no rush to bed. There was no rush to do anything beyond being together. Oh, loves you are so young and thankfully there is no need to explain this awful thing to you today. But there will be a day when we do. I imagine what I say might sound like this...

We are all connected. All of us. When we hurt, others hurt. That is why we feel so very sad when we see others are hurting. When we love, others love. That is why our hearts fill up when we see love roll out across the country. When we practice kindness, we send kindness out in to the world for others to feel. Today that balance was thrown off. But only for a minute, my loves. Because you will see kindness and love swallowing up the hurt as people help each other heal. Human beings rise. They rise up and they hold up the grieving and they hug those who are hurting. Those are the people that we are. Love is always stronger. 

Pants and Plum, it pains my heart that there will be more tragedy in this world as you grow. But I promise that when it happens, I will not turn my back from you. I will not be swallowed into news feeds and slideshows of carnage. Instead, I will be still. I will be present with you. And we will work through our fears together, coming out the other side of them, ready to love this world that much more. Shining light into the darkness.

That is how we will change the world. 

Love, Mama

The winter is ending. The spring is new and breaking through. Today was Easter Sunday. The entire day showed me that life is as the seasons are. Always moving. Always changing. Life, youth, age and endings. I was reminded that spring will blossom in honor of the winter's sleep. The flowers will bloom in homage to the ice and snow. That Winter will eventually give way to April. That life goes on. And that life's end is a beautiful time despite the sadness it brings.

We spent Easter with my grandparents.

When I walked into the house my grandma asked to see me in her bedroom. She had something she wanted to give to me. Plum and I followed her in. "I have something for you. Reach in the drawer. Pull it out." I reached in and felt a round cold metal ball and knew immediately what my grandmother had gifted me. 


When I was a little girl we searched desperately for it in the Christmas tree. It was the bird. But it didn't look like a bird. It was a silver ball ornament that when switched on sang like a cardinal. The child who found it first received the first  Christmas present. I almost always found it first. The memories flooded me. All of us throwing our coats and boots off into a pile and running to the Christmas tree. Frantic. Excited. Our arms getting little scratches from the tree. The smells of a real pine tree. My Aunt Candy, who is no longer with us,  laughing and playing Hot and Cold with us until someone found it.

In my hand I held my childhood. And the tears began to flow. From both of us. As she sobbed into my arms,  I promised her that my children would inherit this tradition. This memory. That the search for the bird will live on and someday I would pass this piece of our life onto one of my children. 

From winter to spring. 

Our tears flowed easy. My grandmother's weakened lungs produced coughs and wheezing. We sat together on her bed and regained our composure. She was frail. She was remembering a time when she was younger. So was I. 

Plum ate dinner with them. Right between them actually. Great-grandma cut her meat for her. Plum even conveniently forgot how to feed herself so that great-grandma had to help her. It was as though she knew this would warm her grammy's heart. Because it really did.  Mine too. 

I remember sitting between my grandparents and celebrating. I remember. I remember it as though it was just last week. They were younger. They were strong. But today they are not as strong. I watch my grandfather's hand shake because his brain has begun to misfire. I see him struggle to maintain his balance. I hear my grandmother short of breath. I watch her eyes determined to soak in every memory available to her.  I am overcome with the reality that life is moving forward. That the blessing of this life is that it is limited. That time will never stand still. That my children are the legacy. That life is so very precious. We don't get to keep it. We get no do-overs. But we do get this time. We are given the gift of this time. This here. This now. This chapter of our life. This seemingly simple meal with great-grandparents.

I have no picture of what moved me to cry the entire drive home. Because you don't run to grab the camera when a moment like this comes. Instead you try desperately to  remember. And as soon as you get home, you write it down so that it is never lost under the piles of memories that life gives to us.  So that they know. 


He leaned in for a hug goodbye. My grandfather, his great-grandfather, cradles one cheek in his hand. His other hand drew my baby's back to his chest. My grandfathers head rests gently cheek to cheek with my son. "Lord, bless and keep this child. This beautiful child", he whispered into my son's ear. My boy looked up to listen to his great-grandfather. He looked right into his eyes and he smiled.  My heart wept.  I cried for love. The deep and untouchable and enormous love of my grandfather. I cried for the knowledge that he is in the winter of his life. And I cried for the beauty of this moment between my beloved son and my beloved grandfather. My baby stepped back. "I wuv you, grampy", he whispered. "Oh child, I love you.", my grandfather said. 


Plum piped up, "uv oo, ammpy" she said as she moved in for her hug. 

It's a wonder I had my wits about me by this point as my grandfather with tears of love in his eyes for my babies, held her and whispered, "Lord, bless and keep this beautiful child". She was calm and stayed in his warm embrace. I remember how that embrace enveloped me as a child. I remember how safe I felt. How loved.  I kissed my grandpa. And while my heart sobbed, I smiled as I met his eyes. "I love you. I love you, grandpa." and he held me in those arms.  I knew them. I remembered them.  For a moment he didn't shake. He looked into my eyes and said, "Bless you, my girl. May the Lord bless you and keep you." And for a moment I was 10 years old. 

 

So I thought long and hard about this post.  I try to keep controversial topics off the blog because in the end I want this to be a record for my children. But it occurred to me that I want them to know that this time in our lives was big deal. That things were happening beyond poop diapers and Pinterest fails. Mostly I want them to know that their dad and I stood up for something. That we believed in things. This particular issue touches our family. Plum has two God Mommies. They deserve equal rights.  It is my hope that by the time our kids read this post, they will do so in disbelief that there was ever a time when people were denied the right to marry the person they love.  

So I'm a bit nervous to hit the publish button on this one because I know that I stand to lose some readers. But I'm gonna be OK with that. I'm gonna do it anyway. Here we go....

This is a big week. The Supreme Court of The United States is hearing arguments this week to determine the constitutionality of Proposition 8 and the Defense of Marriage act. People are fired up on both sides. 

Try mentioning marriage equality on Facebook and see what happens. Better yet go to some of the pages dedicated to it and start reading the comments. Inevitably you find people fighting about whether or not gay people are born gay and what the bible says or doesn't say about it. But guess what?

We shouldn't even be having that conversation in relation to marriage equality. It’s all smoke and mirrors and positioning and assholery. Say what? Oh yes. It’s true. Our opinions on how gays come to be gay don’t mean a thing when talking about marriage. It serves to get people all excited and sweating (pun probably intended) and distracts people. It causes those on both sides to dig in their heels and scowl. It makes people read blogs (guilty) and watch MSNBC. Because people love to watch a brawl, don't they?

But it’s all moot. Because marriage is a legal contract. However you make it sacred is then up to you to do or not do.  And since we are lucky enough to live in a country that separates church and state,  the bible and religion can not apply to this. If they did I wouldn't be able to roll up on an afternoon to a drive-thru "chapel" in Vegas and get married by some drunk dude dressed like Liberace. Making a marriage sacred is a personal decision on top of the legal contract. Not the other way around.

My ramblings/ word barfs/ general up-in-arms-ness/points are these...

1. We all choose to live in the United States of America. And that means we have chosen a free society. One that doesn't use religion or the government to oppress people or to strip minorities of rights (or never recognize them in the first place). Well at least it’s supposed to be. We are just not all the way there yet.

2. But I hope that we will be. I even have faith that we will. And that we will soon stop the insanity of this conversation and get to the business of righting this. Because people and children are being hurt by the government.  Because the government has no business telling you how to be married to a consenting adult. They have no business telling you that you cannot be a subservient wife or a polygamist ( oooh I went there!) or gay married or straight married or divorced or wearing hammer pants. I am freaked out by a few of those things but it is not my right to take away yours just because you do things differently than I do.

3. My marriage is not "lessened" by anyone else's marriage. It's not even lessened by those pimping themselves on The Bachelor. Though I want to kick all of those “hopefuls” for a rose in the shins and take some gentle cleanser to all that eye make-up. I digress, ahem,  your <insert major religion here> marriage is not diminished by my Unitarian Universalist marriage.  If it is then your marriage probably wasn't that great to begin with. 

4. The definition of marriage has been changed throughout history like eighty-seven hundred times. Or at least fifteen times. Somewhere between 15-8700 times. And seriously, can we just stop the bullshit about definitions? Nobody gives a rats butt about definitions, let's be honest. It's not about that.   I mean, they demoted Pluto to some non-planet thingy and I was all, "Wait, what? The definition of Pluto is that it is a planet! You can't change that! Pluto is traditionally known as a planet and all of my understanding of the solar system depends on Pluto being a planet" but they changed it anyway and I somehow lived through it. <- worst analogy ever but whatever. Definition shmefinition.  It's already been changed, dudes. 

5. Some think that it would just be a tragedy if the Supreme Court overturns Proposition 8 because it is "the vote of the people" but you know what? Those same people probably believe in the Constitution (just like I do) and a people's vote is invalid if it takes away the rights of others. We could also talk about how no one "took them away" because they never had them to begin with. Yep. That sucks just as much. Instead I'm talking about the very first big promise from the law of our land. Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness for ALL Americans. All. Of. Us. The LGBTQ population has the constitutional right to pursue their happiness just like I do. Just like you do. My available liberties and your available liberties must look the same. How is this even in question? 


<puts note cards down>

In conclusion, It’s time to let consenting adults marry each other so that we can move on and do whatever it is we do and be whoever we are and love whoever we love and stop getting up in each other’s business. Because it suuuuucks that we are still talking about this. All my un-equal by law GLBTQ  friends and family just want to get married and have families and have it mean what it does to the rest of us. Sweet Christmas, it is TIME.


One love. It's in your hands SCOTUS. I have faith that the times they are a changin'... 

How do you think the SCOTUS will rule on marriage equality?                

 Respectful comments accepted. 
Any comments that contain hateful or disrespectful language will be deleted.

I sit and stare at her in amazement at least once a day. Usually it's more. This girl is fancy. This girl is funny. She is silly and smart. And beautiful. I know I'm not supposed to emphasize beauty but I can't help it. She is a beautiful girl and I can't believe that she is mine. Well, sometimes I can. Like when she puts on her clown wig and rainbow pants. I totally believe it then. Because, duh. 

I have been putting off writing this post. It's mostly because I have no idea what to say. My feelings are all over the place. She's two now. She's two. Two whole years old. And I am all at once in love with little ball of awesome energy she has become and wistful about the little tiny baby who lay skin to skin on my chest this very night two years ago. 

She has changed and grown. She has learned to talk. She sings and dances. She dresses up and has mad fashion sense. She loves Dora the Explorer (Dora Bora!) and putting on a pwee-tee dwess (pretty dress). Her favorite foods are avocado and turkey wraps. Her favorite drink is still mama's milk. Her second favorite drink is apple juice. She has learned how to bring the best and the worst out of her brother and she is an expert in knowing when to play her cards with him. She knows her alphabet and the sounds the letters make. She is smart smart smart. 

She is always excited to see you. She is always chatting with someone or something. She cares deeply for her babies and tells them how loved they are. She will rock and nurse her baby dolls to sleep and then let us all know that we need to "Shhhhh, a baby sweepy". She runs to most of the places she goes. Her amazing chub-a-lub jiggling, even though I notice when a roll disappears and is replaced by a longer body. And yes, that makes me sad. She was my squishiest baby. Maybe the squishiest baby of all time. I'm not ready to see those rolls go just yet. But she's running and jumping and climbing. Determined to grow them out. She has a twinkle in her eye and lilt in her sweet voice. She is gentle and kind and funny and loves her family. 

But tonight as I sit here typing, all I can focus on is that she is my little itty-bitty baby. I can still feel her curled up like a kidney bean on my chest. Wrapped in a Moby wrap. Breathing her soft breath in my ear as we slept. Sometimes sleeping with her head stuck in my armpit. I remember the little barracuda baby who knew exactly what to do to get the milk from me. I am remembering the smell and lighting of the bedroom where we spent a lot of time during our first weeks together. How the bedside table lamp tossed a soft light on her face and how I would just stare at her. How when I sang to her, she would smile and coo along. I'm remembering the little baby who eventually won her brothers heart. She knew he'd come around. Because you can't help but love her. You just can't. 

She made our family whole. That is how I am thinking of her tonight. Our last baby. Our Plum. 

But she's is not a little baby anymore. 

I knew she was the last and I made sure that I was soaking up the scents and soft snuggles of her babyhood. But I still want to go back for a few minutes and nuzzle my nose onto her soft fuzzy newborn head and take in her sweet baby scent. Just for a minute. I swear I'd come right back and be ready to move forward on this new chapter. But it seems there is no return but for dreaming. And time will march forward like it always does. What with the flying by...

So I will hold my heart in my hands and say out loud that I am so very sad at times when I think of how fast she has grown. My heart is squeezed and my breath is shallow as I fight tears, wishing I could hold my new babies just one more time. But then I am pulled back into this place. This time. And I hear her call out to me, frightened. Maybe from a dream or just not wanting to be alone. "Mama? Mama?!" and I jump up from my keyboard and slide into bed next to my sweet Plum and say "Mama's right here baby girl. Mama's right here. It's ok." She is immediately calmed. She makes the most beautiful sounds as she nurses back to sleep. And I am reminded that while she is not a baby anymore, she is still my baby. She will always be my baby. 

___________________________________________________________


Happy Birthday to you, my precious and loved baby girl. You light up my life every single day with your joy. You are a gift to this world. It is an honor to have been the first to love you. Love you always, Mama 



 

When I first saw my subject my face twitched a bit. Oh shit...the best thing in life? How is there any one thing? I ended up thinking about it for days and days and days. I could pin nothing down. I had forty-three ideas and none of them were right. None of them were the best thing in life. They were good things but they weren't The.Best.Thing.In.Life.

I was over-thinking it. Which should come as a surprise to no one. Least of all me. It's how I roll. So this is the new plan. I'm just gonna type and we will just see where it takes us. A little experiment to see what my conclusion is on this topic. You in? Here we go...

1. The answer is absolutely LOVE. There is nothing more important. Nothing more fulfilling. Nothing more integral to my happiness than love. It's love that makes the world go around, you guys. It's love that makes me a better person and love that connects us to each other. Love love love.

2. The answer is definitely LAUGHTER. There is nothing more important or fulfilling than a good belly laugh. We need to laugh. We have to laugh otherwise we'd cry, right?

3. The answer is definitely this CHOCOLATE CUPCAKE I'm eating right now. I mean I could run away and marry this thing.

4. The answer is definitely BOOZE. Who gets through their whole life without needing a beer? Beer is the friend that hangs out in your fridge just waiting for the right time to love on you. No pressure. No expectations.  That's a good friend.

5. The answer is COMMUNITY. We don't walk around in a bubble. We aren't floating about on our own islands. We need each other. We need community and connection. And when you have found that you are lucky lucky lucky. Because community can be hard to find. And community can save you.

6. This is going absolutely nowhere. I could list like this for days on end. Shit.

7. The answer is definitely TIME. Because we all know that it will run out. But we have it right now. Why do we waste it? We can't make more time, yet we go about life like we can. Ok, this is it. The best thing in life is TIME. Time to love. Time to laugh. Time to eat the heavenly cupcakes. Time to throw back a beer. Time to be a part of community. It all comes down to time. 

The best thing in life is the time we actually have to live this life. The trick is to find ways to honor that time. And to be inside your own life. To be present and actually living. Yep, it sounds cliché. But I have never seen time plow through my life faster than it has since I became a mama. So, time. We can't slow it down and we can't change how much of it there is. But we can use it and be in it. And take solace in the truth that right now this second we still have it. So we can be living and loving and laughing.

Time. Yep, the best thing in life is just time. The trick is to not waste it.

How do you stay inside of your life? How do you honor the time you have?

 “Often when you think you're at the end of something, you're at the beginning of something else.”    ~ Fred Rogers

That's what I read this morning when I was tooling around on the interwebs. My intention was to redesign our blog button and spruce up this joint. But then I stumbled onto that quote up there and started to get the hot eyes that you get when you are trying not to cry. Again. You know, because, um, I cry all the time. It's a problem.

If I'm not crying in my car on my way to grab Chinese take-out, I'm crying happy tears at the end of a movie. Or I'm laughing myself into tears because I can. not. stop. watching the Bad Lip Reading videos on YouTube (you are so welcome for that link). And then this morning Mr. Rogers makes me cry the Always-Threatening-to-Spill Bittersweet-Baby-Stuff tears.

So instead of designing a blog button or tweaking the site or cleaning my house or making myself breakfast, I made this and posted it to our Facebook page while crying and blowing my nose...

He is rounding the bases toward four. He understands how the world works more and more every minute. He is curious. He asks questions even when he knows the answer. I think he just wants to chat and show off his skills. He is sensitive. So so sensitive. He is loving. And he is loud. He wants to show her the way. He wants to show her how. He is getting so tall. He is getting too tall. He is goofy and he knows it. When he wants to figure things out there is no stopping him until he's got it. He is our Lil dude. And he is getting bigger by the hour.

She is turning two in March. It's only six weeks away. She is nowhere near the tiny baby I brought home from the hospital 680 days ago. She is talking to me in sentences. She is tapping into her individuality. She knows her alphabet, numbers and shapes.  She has always had opinions, but now she acts on them. She tells you about them. She is thrilled to be understood. She expresses herself all over the place. And her stink-eye is brutal. Brutal. She's a dancer and a singer. She's a dare-devil like her brother. There is no mistaking her love. It is unconditional and covers you. She is our Plum. And she is only one for 1,128 more hours...


Time is always going to be flying. That's nothing new. I'm finding that being awake and inside of these days is the best way to fly along with it. Because it's just never going to slow down. And that is life.

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Linking up with Greta and Julie for #iPPP