9 months

over the past week or so, amelia has been trying to cut no less than 6 teeth (at the same time!), and she's not thrilled. she's had some pretty high fevers and hasn't slept great through the night, so her mood throughout the day hasn't always been cheery. i think she's finally coming out on the other side of it all, thank goodness (for everyone!). 

mia's favorite thing to do at 9 months is chariot around in her mother's arms, steal her brother's toys and sacred blankets, and eat as much pizza as she can get her hands on. she's an enormous fan of long peaceful walks at dusk - long past bedtime - which is not all together a terrible thing because mother loves them too.

she has the most infectious smile there's ever been. when she's excited, she folds her body over on itself so that her nose touches her knees and her arms and legs splay straight out. she gets especially excited when henry wants to play with her or if mom or dad walk in the room. in the last week, she's learned to scoot on her tummy, and every now and then we'll catch her on her hands and knees with a terrified look on her face, as if she'd convinced herself for a second it would be a good idea to crawl and then she immediately regretted it.

for the sake of record, it feels necessary to share that the blue and white jumper in the stroller picture above is size 18 months, and mia will likely grow out of it before she'll have a chance to wear it again. she's quickly outgrowing every stitch of clothing she owns, and will no doubt be in size 5t before her brother, who is still safely in size 3t pants at 3-1/2.

over the past month, mia's determined personality has shone brightly. she knows what she wants, and will scream until everyone else knows it too. gone are the days when mia sat quietly in her jumper or laid next to henry in mesmerized silence. she is very quickly showing us the contender that she is, and we are (almost) all thrilled. henry needs a little time to adjust.

we love you sweet girl. happy 9 months!

amelia and henry through the months. 

amelia at 1 month, 2 months, 3 months, 4 months, 5 months, 6 months, 7 months, 8 months.
henry at 1 month, 2 months, 3 months, 4 months, 5 months, 6 months, 7 months, 8 months, 9 months, 10 months, 11 months, 12 months, and 13 months.

amelia elizabeth, we love you very much - 7 months

amelia wakes up every morning by slamming her feet against her crib mattress as if in announcement - alright guys, let's roll! henry used to do the same thing every morning. it's maybe a strange thing to stick out as important, but because h and a are so different in just about every single way this tiny similarity seems precious to me.  

when mia was born, henry was very cautious of the extra time and attention the strange baby stole from him, and for the most part mia was just quiet and small enough that he could ignore that she existed much of the time. if she cried, henry cried out in agony from the noise. if mia got too close to him or his things, h recoiled quickly, snatched his precious toys, and then carried on with his business in a corner somewhere safely removed from the intruder. his eyes were usually locked on a set of toys or the tv instead of bothering to peek at mia. 

these days, h seems to find mia just slightly entertaining and worth a glance here and there. when she cries, henry soothes her with a song or an aggressive pet on her head. when she laughs, henry tries to tickle her under the chin to make her giggle more. for the most part, he isn't bothered when mia touches his things or plays with his toys. he still keeps himself at a healthy distance from any of mia spit cloths, obviously, but he's fascinated when we change her diaper and he stands close by when she's having a bath or eating solid food. when we're playing or if mia gets a little fussy at night, i sing to her a silly little rhyme with her name in it that instantly makes her face light up. last night as we were taking some pictures, henry came in and started singing her song, and my heart exploded. 

at night, henry tells mia he loves her and in the morning he sits nearby as she drinks her bottle or jumps in her favorite spot. 

mia eats some solid food these days. she prefers apples and sweet potatoes, and she refuses bananas all together. last week she gave up drinking her bottle during the day and started drinking a few more bottles through the night. this week, she's back on schedule with her daily bottle in-take and last night she slept all night long without a drink. she's been trying to cut teeth for over a month, and every now and then she'll have a day spent drooling and grinding her gums - which is a sort of disgusting thing she does that makes her look like a very serious bubble gum chewer - and we'll be convinced a tooth is coming, only to find sweet little pink gums and no sign of a tooth just a few days later. UPDATE: mia is getting her first tooth! we found one on her 7 month birthday (lower right central incisor).

she loves to be outside and would happily swing for hours at the park while henry mills about finding worms and sticks. 

riding in brother's three wheeler is the bees knees. although, you'll have to take my word for it, because we caught her mid-frown in this photo i guess.

i always have trouble ending these monthly posts without droning on and on about how amelia is the most amazing, well-tempered baby on the planet, because she really is. and every month gets better and better with this one. i love you more every second, mia girl. happy 7 months!

amelia and henry through the months. in case you care to see. 

amelia at 1 month, 2 months, 3 months, 4 months, 5 months, 6 months.
henry at 1 month, 2 months, 3 months, 4 months, 5 months, 6 months, 7 months, 8 months, 9 months, 10 months, 11 months, 12 months, and 13 months.

predictable four month check-in

mia is four months old, you guys. yet, i know it was just last week that i poked in here to brag about all of her three month tricks. there's got to be a way to bottle the baby months, doesn't there? i'd pay some real good money to be able to swim in these precious times for the rest of my life. i'd even be willing to hang on to the mid-night feedings if it meant i could smooch those million dollar cheeks for the rest of my days. gosh darn it, mommyhood is a heartbreaker.

to celebrate amelia's fourth month on earth, we met her new doctor and impressed him with her no-doubt record breaking verbal skills and physical abilities. amelia's sweet demeanor and impressive neck strength had the new doctor eating out of her tightly clenched fists, which must have made the three shots that followed seem all the more cruel. she handled the pain with a brave face and a few marble-sized tears, and then promptly fell asleep for what seemed like 24 hours. when she woke up this morning, she remembered the agony she'd dealt with the day before and hasn't let us forget about it since. in the hours she's been awake she's cried more than i've ever known to her to cry since birth, so you know we hurt her feelings in a big way, to say nothing of the sad sores she's carrying around under those tweety bird bandaids. poor girl.

a few days ago, i walked in to find amelia several inches from the perch i swore i'd set her in, and she'd pivoted about 45 degrees. the following day, she rolled from her back to her tummy. you don't need to tell me these little moments are important only to her overly proud parents. you also don't need to tell me she's incredible. because i know.

i mentioned last month in passing that our little family moved from virginia recently; but as it played out the move was pretty monumental for us, and really sort of a dream come true. before joey and i got married, we lived together in a cute little house in st. paul, and i think since then i've always imagined raising our family back there some day. in a mix of fate, good luck, and probably a lot of stubborn determination - here we are. it's insane to drive around these cozy little streets in the same car we used to cruise in, just the two of us, but now with two car seats in back and babes to fill them. strange the way life shakes out sometimes, isn't it? and even as i type this, i can't help but feel so grateful for the time we had in virginia - all the growth, all the challenges - and the the enormous blessing that we somehow found ourselves back here.

some day, i'll post a few pictures of our house now that we've settled in a little and finally feel like it's ours. we moved in to what we thought was a completely move-in-ready gem, but it turns out historic homes - for all their charm and beauty - come with fun little projects that aren't at all 'fun' and  are even less 'little'. we've quite literally been working on something in the house since we moved in. there may have even been one night where joey was haunting around at 2:00am trying to get the heat to come on in negative outside temperatures. i told you, not at all fun. but i have to hand it to joey for all of his hard work and handy-man skills. we've only ever rented together, with actually really responsive land-lords willing to fix just about anything in less than 24 hours, so it's been fun for me to see the hidden skills joey's been able to pull out as a home-owner almost every day around here. i think my parents would be thrilled to know that i married someone so able :) i, of course, married him for his good looks and wit, so the extra skills are just a welcomed bonus.

thanks for reading this extra long novel. check back next month for a fifth installment of amelia's bio, and maybe a few pictures of our home - if you're good.

xoxo


amelia at 1 month, 2 months, 3 months.
henry at 1 month, 2 months, 3 months, 4 months, 5 months, 6 months, 7 months, 8 months, 9 months, 10 months, 11 months, 12 months, and 13 months.

amelia is three months!

merry christmas! i hope yours was as good as ours. and i hope your christmas tree photo was coordinated. stripped pajamas - i know you know what i'm talking about. i know  you took your christmas tree photo christmas morning, while your kids were red cheeked and glowing. i know your hair was perfect. ours was taken after the presents were unwrapped and our kids were glassy eyed and exhausted. we do things a little more raw around here. i can't stop looking at that family of mine in our mismatched pajamas. i can't think of anything else in this world that i could have asked for. that little picture is my christmas miracle.

the day after christmas, amelia turned three months old. in the last month, she's grown so much. she holds her head, steady as can be. she watches quietly, sometimes chirping at her brother as he wizzes past.

she loves to eat and spends the hours after a bottle spitting up and smiling. i've never met a more content and happy baby. she prefers to be standing, and if you sit her on your lap she'll stretch her legs out and arch her back so you remember to hold her up tall like the big girl she is. she splashes hard in the bath, soaking the towel and counter top around her. she watches her brother like she's memorizing everything he does, as if she's preparing for a pinnacle moment when she'll be big enough to run as fast as he runs, climb as high as he climbs. her eyes are set, determined.

we moved from virginia to minnesota this month. mia has her own bedroom filled with colorful garland and soft, fluffy carpet. her bedroom is right at the top of the stairs, and i imagine her in there rocking her dolls and hiding from her brother. or maybe standing her dinosaurs side by side, in perfect little rows, the way she watched her brother do it. whatever she does, it will be epic, and we will love her endlessly.

happy three months, baby girl.


amelia at 1 month, 2 months.
henry at 1 month, 2 months, 3 months, 4 months, 5 months, 6 months, 7 months, 8 months, 9 months, 10 months, 11 months, 12 months, and 13 months.

amelia is 2 months!!

today, our sweet mia turned 2 months old. what is it about baby number 2 that turns it all around? maybe that was just my experience, maybe henry was a particularly challenging baby. maybe he was born at a particularly challenging time in my life - our marriage. when everything was new, and babies are different - much different than they could ever warn you of, than you could ever prepare yourself for.

remember this post? i was in the thick of it, newly parenting. i didn't know who i was or what i was doing, and it was the scariest time of my life. i have never felt so ill-prepared or -equipped in my life.

mia is a ray of sunshine. she makes the world feel right, our family feel complete. she wakes needing only to eat and nothing more. she sleeps like a puppy in the window, with her lips suckling and her eye-lids darting every which way through a dream where she is no doubt chasing after her brother, mama's voice, or something i've never imagined.

when i met mia, i felt a peacefulness settle over me, after a somewhat nervous pregnancy. she was here, she was safe, and we were all going to be okay. throughout the 9 months i carried her, i was terrified of finding the loneliness that came with henry's infancy again, and feeling - knowing - i was doing all the wrong things. i had celebrated each new stage, each new development with henry, because we'd survived them. because maybe with the next stage i would handle things better. it would become more natural to me (it was all SUPPOSED to feel natural. it didn't).

today, i am relieved. i am elated. i am so very in love with amelia, our family, this life.

amelia sleeps 5 hour stretches though the night, allowing her mother to sleep like a human (bless you, baby girl). she started smiling this week - wide mouth, lots of gum, her little eyes deep blue slits of happiness. when she's not smiling, she is incredibly serious. watching, waiting. she's on alert, and always turns for familiar voices - mama, daddy. brother keeps us all a little weary. we watch him cautiously when he nears his sister. what will he do? last night he punched her in the head while i was feeding her. this morning, he showered her with sweet kisses and doted over her as if she were a beloved pet. amelia will learn to rely on her brother's ever changing temperament :) and she will know he loves her deeply, as we all do.

happy 2 months, precious babe. i love with you the whole of my being.

if you care to look back -

amelia at 1 month.
henry at 1 month, 2 months, 3 months, 4 months, 5 months, 6 months, 7 months, 8 months, 9 months, 10 months, 11 months, 12 months, and 13 months.

amelia elizabeth

amelia (mia) was born september 26 at 12:11am. she was 7 pounds, 5 ounces and 20 inches long. when they told us she was here, she immediately shouted back at them with blood curdling screams that lasted for well over 10 minutes. she was ours, she knew how to scream :)

my birth experience with amelia resonates with me as a relatively calm, peaceful one. i was scheduled for a c-section on september 26, but my water broke the night before. my mom had just flown in to town to stay with henry, so the timing couldn't have been more perfect. when joey and i arrived at the hospital, they ushered us immediately to labor and delivery, and i felt like we were on a smooth little amusement park ride from there until we came out the other side in a sweet corner hospital room with a baby girl in our arms as our fuzzy prize.

since mia's birth, we've kept our little family of 4 as active as can be. joey went back to work the day we got home from the hospital. henry went back to daycare the following day, and a week after we got home from the hospital we hopped on a plane to minneapolis to spend some time with joey's family.

somehow, through the fog of midnight feedings, caring for a spicy-as-ever henry, and trying like crazy to keep up with the laundry that is now laced with spit-up and pink - so much pink! - we've already found ourselves a month in to this new version of life. last night, the one month anniversary of her birth, mia slept 5 hours. total. which was a not so welcomed surprise for her mother, because generally she's a pretty decent sleeper. last week she decided she'd only nurse a select number of times in a day, and all other nutrients would need to come directly from a bottle - thank you very much. she's relatively tolerant of her brother, and the reciprocal is probably true... sometimes. although, in the first days mia was home henry wished her back into mom's tummy several hundred times, and he can never be trusted for more than a fraction of a second alone in the same room with his beloved baby sis for fear that his "love" will translate into a violent display of non-affection/torture.

in celebration of mia's one month of life, here are some traditional pictures (link: henry at 1 month) in a white onesie for comparison.

fresh new start

we're desperate for some cool weather around here, this summer's worn us clean out. what is it about autumn that just washes it all away? fresh start, is what i think of, when the soupy heat finally lifts from my early morning commute.

this weekend, we're taking henry to a puppet show. eh anold, is what henry would call it, except it's a surprise, so henry has no idea he'll spend his saturday morning surrounded by farm animals on strings (i think...). i hope he loves it, i can already see his squirmy body working out all those squeals. being a mom is really the best. these days, he's been calling for the beloved "e.yiy.e.yiy.yoh" every blessed second of the live long day. it's on repeat in the car, on demand from dr. youtube the second we get home, and pulled from the shelf as soon as bedtime nears. only the craziest kind of parents would seek out the incessant tune when it could well be avoided. mom and pop crazy we be.

today, cody started chemo and radiation. what a segue. i do that a lot lately. in the middle of a scheduling conversation at work with a faculty member - something exciting, like which room we'll hold a class in next week.

"no not that room, we already have the 'cardiac and circulatory functions' session in that room." and also, cody starts treatment today. but i can't say that out loud, because how do you say that out loud without screaming?

did you feel that? did your chest tighten too? something must be wrong with my circulatory function.

"what should we do?" i ask.
"there's no other option?"
no! there's no other option!

except he means about his room, and i care less about his room than i've ever cared about anything.

i meant, literally, what are you going to do about this? you're a doctor. what. are. you. going. to. do. about. this?...

but there aren't any answers. none that are good enough.

a few months ago, we bought henry a potty chair, because we like to set ourselves up for months/years of impatiently waiting. it took a few tries, but we finally convinced him the plastic throne was safer than safe, and now he loves it! he'll sit/stand/sit/stand/put his foot inside the bowl for multiple minutes at a time. fully unclothed is how he prefers to take his potties. although, he hasn't actually done the pottying in the chair... yet. i emailed daycare yesterday to inquire, because if he's going to feign all this potty exuberance, we're going to need the people he loves most (not his parents) to hold him accountable. not five minutes after my email sent, daycare emailed back to let me know we were definitely within reason to start the potty training process (yay! and also, what?!).

joey brought out the potty chair to bring to daycare this morning, and henry demanded to sit (unclothed, with his milk, on the potty) for some morning silence before heading out. they arrived to a standing ovation at daycare, everyone cheered as the potty was brought in. henry stood confidently, slight smile, and enjoyed the cheers. we'll keep you posted on how it all shakes out ;)

and also, wear grey! :)

19 months

in two days, henry will be 19 months. he climbs the stairs at the park all by himself. swings his leg up, one by one, until he's all the way to the top. he scurries around in wiggly circles once he's safely landed, king of the jungle (gym). then, as if magnetized by the potential energy radiating from the gaping opening, he saunters over to the slide and sits himself down. with little hesitation, he scoots to the edge and smiles wide the whole way down. no one to catch him. no care in the world.

he wakes up bursting with agenda items.
"a poo poo" (a new diaper would be great.)
"gaut!" (i'd like my blanket, mother dear.)
"mama?!" (is mama somewhere? i'd like her in sight at all times.)
"a bu bye." (let's bounce.)

life doesn't seem so busy these days, somehow. we've taken on a new rhythm, i think. it's soothing the way the days beat on in a steady sort of way. nothing too radical, always safe and cool.

we've be talking incessantly about moving lately. sometimes, moving to the next town over seems like the solution to any problems in the world. other days, nothing will do except a uhaul back home to a cute little house in short driving distance from the people we'll always be looking for here. the truth is, the distance seems much wider when scary things are happening in our family's lives, and being here makes us both feel incredibly helpless and sad.

but we're learning, day by day, where to find the best parks in virginia and the best coffee. we've found a pizza place that will never be this (our first date!), but will do for now. and our friends here are turning into some of the best we could ask for. this place, and our little family as we wait it out here, are all going to be alright.

we're just fine

let's start out nice and slow, because i've got a toddler boy asleep in a crib 15 steps to my left and there's very little in the world that will pull me to my feet right now. this is it for me, nice. and. slow.

life is streaming through my fingers - tiny, microscopic crystals, sparkling and smooth. life is rushing on huge gusts of wind that come out of nowhere and drag me yards away before i have a chance to brush the unkempt hair from my face. life is sweet, glorious kisses from my two most beloved gentlemen, one hobbles over on unsteady knees, the other is holding his hand. life is this dream of mine that looks enormous, minuscule, terrifying, and extraordinary all at the same time. life is wonder, evolution, love. life - life is fast.

we get home in the evenings, henry and me, holding tightly to one another with our arms full of things. henry's neon green bag and blanket. mommy's purse, keys, and phone. sometimes we hardly make it through the door. most of the time our entrance is henry's body, folded in half so that his dangling feet hang just below his outstretched finger-tips, mother holding on for dear life. all the things fall, henry's head brushes the hard-wood floor. it was a close one, but we made it. we're just fine.

henry is upright, dashing towards the opened closet where we store coats, shoes, winter hats, toilet paper (too high for henry to reach). the shoes are great fun at 16 months old - henry can reach the shoes.

"oosch?"
"oosch?!"
"mama?"

he wants me to put on his shoes. the shoes he has in his hand are 10 sizes too large for his thick, baby feet. he loves shoes. he has 15 shoes outside of the closet now (dirty shoes. shoes i would have never let him touch in my other life.), piled on top of his legs. none of them have a match. it doesn't matter. "oosch!"

the shoes are cleaned up, neatly piled high on top of each other again in the closet. none of them have a match. it doesn't matter.

i have one minute to unpack henry's neon green bag, full of dirty clothes from daycare and a white, copied report that tells us what henry did all day. it's identical almost every day. i glance at it to be sure we're not out of any supplies - diapers? wipes? sunscreen? we're not. i have thirty seconds left to throw the dirty clothes into the washing machine before henry's hands skim the toilet seat, before he's found the cupboard he's not allowed to open, before he's got a hand/nose full of potting soil. damn, the potting soil. it's all over him. his clothes, his hair, the floor. damn the pretty plants - the bright, splashes of color i have in my home that remind me i am a woman, a person, i can keep a plant alive. henry's eating its soil.

his clothes are off, he's in the sink. his hands are spreading black dirt onto the formerly cream colored wall above the sink. the sink is now full of all the dishes left to dry on the counter beside the sink. they're dirty again. i throw them into the dishwasher. it's okay, we're doing it. we're just fine.

he's out of the sink, spread out on the kitchen floor, sobbing. he didn't want to get out of the sink. clear, thick snot is flowing from his nose, his tears are wetting the tips of his freshly cut hair. his cheeks are red, further highlighting their round fullness. he's got the most doughy cheeks. he's mine. he's a miracle. he's loud.

three things sit snug in my arsenal, ready for launch: 1.) tomatoes, 2.) cheese, 3.) bath-time. options 1 and 2 are most often used interchangeably and/or paired to steady a mad, red henry. in this moment, i choose to pair 1 and 2. to lure him into his high chair is an art i want you to know has taken months to craft. it's still not perfect. henry will remain on the tear-stained kitchen floor while i sing-talk calmly about how nice it would be to have a snack with mommy. tomatoes. cheese. all lovely things to ease the pain of evacuating the sink before henry was ready. i will cut up the tomatoes and cheese. i will have a bite. oooh, delicious! the first offer to henry is calculated, precise. not too pushy. nice and easy. denied. he wants nothing of it. that's okay, it's not over yet. i keep eating. i have an affinity to cheese and tomatoes myself, i think that's where he gets it. i place two slices of bursting, baby red tomatoes on his high chair tray and hand him a bite of cheese. he takes it. internally, streamers are falling from the rafters. he's 40 seconds from sitting calmly in his chair like a gentleman. he's in my arms, his face is glistening with every trace of transparent liquid his body has just expelled. it doesn't matter. we're just fine.

we spend the next 13.5 minutes in the kitchen together, chatting over the goings on with old mcdonald and his farm, the various noises mr. mcdonald's farm animals tend to make, the wheels on the bus - we have lots of hand motions for this one. i'm beaming with pride. this kid, he's a blessed genius. he's mine. we're just fine.

the door slams hard, rattling the door knocker. joey always lets the door slam. it's okay. we're just fine.

henry's face shoots to the location of the sound. the door?! dad!

"hi!"
silence.
"da!"
silence.
"dada!"
silence. excruciatingly l.o.u.d silence.

joey and henry have this game together, it involves a lot of creeping, sneaking, tickling, and high, screechy giggles. henry is reaching far from his perch in his high chair, neck craned, fingers taut. silent. beaming. he's like a enormously overflowing water balloon, every piece of him is stretched. the anticipation is starting to seep out of his finger-tips.

"da!"
"hi henry!"

such glee. such perfection. henry's face is dripping with tomato juice. his hands are speckled with cheese, the floor around his high chair is littered with clumps of tomatoey cheese. he is happy, eating, and talking loudly about daycare? shoes? the monkeys that are always falling off the bed? who can be sure? joey and i watch in wonder, busily making a supper we will both stand to eat. this is life. this is us. they are mine. we're just fine.

it can't be this good. but it is.

have you ever listened to the sound of your voice after it was recorded in video or, maybe worse, as your phone's voicemail playback? if it sounds anything like mine, and it surely can not possibly come close!, it's this horrific screeching sound that turns any semi-intelligable substance of a thought into nails on chalkboard garbage (my husband would argue this is where my true confidence is going to start to shine brightly). the sound i hear in my head every time i write a new blog post and read it back as i skim it for errors (upon errors, upon errors that i sometimes find and fix weeks later because it drives me bananas) is that sound. that same piercing voice going on, and on, and on. and that's not what this was supposed to be about. this was a henry thing. this was a 'my family and me thing'. because it's this incredible period in my life where i wake up every morning and thank the good lord for the miracle that is my life, and darn it i want to remember this time. that's what this space is.

do you know that i am literally living, every single day, the very fantasy that i created in my head and as i played as a little girl? and what's even more astounding is that it's even better than that little pig-tailed girl had imagined. because my son, he's got this really great personality that levels me daily. and my husband is so good. do i need to stress that more? you know how people casually throw out the word "good" to describe the things that aren't bad, giving them the minimal amount of credit, because, well, it wasn't bad? and unfortunately, somewhere along the line we turned the word "good" into "almost bad". but look it up. we've morphed the word from its true meaning. but now when i tell you that my husband is this word, you know that he's everything. he's t.h.e. husband in the books, you guys. he's really, really good.

and as my life has turned into this crazy version of itself, where all my dreams came true, i still find myself wanting, hoping for more. and that's just nuts! absolutely crazy. and because of that burn in me that's constantly convincing me i "need" more and urging me to seek out the other side of the fence (because it's greeeeeeeen, you guys!), i forget all that i have right here. right here!



it's these guys. i have these guys. they're mine. by law. by blood. and they're in love with me back. that's the breathtaking piece, that's where all of this really gets good!

i hope you're good too. i hope you're staying warm in this mid-january cold, because sometimes, even next to the fire it's impossible to stay warm, you know what i mean? don't lose your warmth. i'm really working on that these days :)

fourteen months

you know the thing we talk about at our house probably 94% of the time we're home? sleep. did henry sleep? when will we sleep? is one hour of sleep during the day enough for my fourteen month old? no! is the correct answer.

henry comes home every day with a sheet of paper that describes various things about his day, including the fun stuff he and the other kids his age did all day - spanish songs, practice walking (he still can't walk by himself!), etc. it tells us when and what he ate, when and what matter he extracted from his body (ie. how much he pooped), and when and how much he slept. and every day, the time spent sleeping decreases by a half hour. it used to be two naps, then it turned into one. it was a 2.5 hour nap, now it's one hour. soon he'll sleep none at all and eat nothing but red beef and baked beans.

this kid is ridiculous on a no-nap schedule. he comes home as pleasant as a hungry and exhausted grizzly bear. the night before last he and i spent fifteen minutes in the kitchen either screaming and arching our backs or staring in complete awe at the tiny monster the other one turns into when the spoon isn't shoveled in just exactly right. sometimes, it's completely unacceptable for mother to get anywhere near the spoon, by the way. and sometimes, that's the only way he'll eat. 

he's this new kid i hardly recognize, and i miss my sweet boy who did nothing but reach for mama and hand off kisses like they poured from his sweet puppy lips. this weekend, joey has guards so h and i will be head to head. i'm hoping we'll find some mutual ground early saturday so our weekend doesn't resemble the uglyish week we've had. pray for patience :)

here's my babe, in all of his 14 month glory tonight.

in case you tire of "guess the caption", this is my huck. he's ticked because he couldn't, with all of his strength, lift the vacuum cleaner onto his highchair tray. and now, i've run out of words.

when in doubt, share your christmas tree photos

you know, if i've said it once i've said it enough time to elicit a trillion eye rolls - there just ain't enough time in a day. or maybe it's not time that's keeping me from blogging lately but good home-cooked imagination, motivation, exhilaration (that last gem was kind of a stretch, but only kind of). but seriously, it takes all of those things to hash out even mildly comprehensible rants. and i'm not complaining, because nobody asked for this little sliver of heaven-in-a-blog - believe me, i know! - i'm just lightly peppering the screen with excuses to take up space before the video (taken on a dark and grainy cell phone video camera - sorry)...

and pictures...

we spent the holidays back home, in south dakota, like we always do. but before we left, we had allison stop over to take a few pictures of our little family in our little arlington apartment. it's important to us that we remember these moments that are slipping by so quickly, and us in our home seemed like the perfect way to encapsulate our family this christmas season.

one more of our little gal, taken by me (the non-professional), because you've been good.

my angels in front of my mom's christmas tree the night before christmas eve. since we were kids, my brothers and i have always woken before the sun on christmas eve to celebrate christmas with my mom. there've been many version of this tradition, but without fail santa has always come by 4:45am christmas eve, my mom, my brothers and i are always there with bells on (some of us trying harder than others to hide our glee), and every year we walk away dizzy with happiness and completely in awe of the amount of generosity that spills from our family's hearts. this year, like all the years did before, takes the cake as my favorite.

because of these guys :) all of them woke up before the sun rose, some tried extra hard to hide their glee, and every single one of them left the adults completely happy and a lot dizzy. because 4 kids, all 4 and under, throwing around colored wrapping paper as they paw towards their next gift, or desperately gouge at their last gift to dislodge it from its packaging, are straight chaos and are louder than 17 freight trains crashing through the living room window. no exaggeration, i promise.

henry made a haul (boy loves his batteries).

we had such an amazing time with joey's family on christmas eve night. seriously, soooo blessed to have the family that we have. i know i say it a ton, but it can not be said enough!

and we rounded out the trip at the farmers market on friday night with my dad. my dad and brother made my niece and nephews this amazing play food stand, complete with cash register (not pictured), awning, and baskets of any bread, fruit, or melon you could crave. henry craved them all, and took big gaping bites out of eachandevery piece of not-juicy-at-all produce. sorry guys, those fruits just looked so delicious! he stopped mid-chomp after he realized (again) not a lick of that styrofoam was tasty. 

we got home late on sunday night, after a long day of not flying, then flying, then bribing a squirmy/unhappy child with chocolate on the drive from the airport, etc., etc. etc. we left sioux falls a few hours later than we'd planned, but luckily we weren't stuck at the airport the whole time we were delayed because our airline called 10 minutes before our alarm was going to chime its petulant ring to tell us to stay in bed an extra 3 hours and rest. so we did. 

but flying out of a midwest airport in december means mandatory delays for de-icing, fiddling around, etc., etc., etc., and we were still about an hour late flying out, even after our first delay. aaaaand, because of the added delay after the delay we missed our connector in dallas and spent a rousing few hours enjoying texas for all that it is. rousing.

but we made it. through the silent prayers and joey's thrown out back (luggage can be a beast if you let it) and constant flight anxiety exacerbated by additional turbulence and a blessed extra seat nestled right between the two seats we paid for on the flight home. we made it. and like we always do when we find ourselves in particularly harried situations, with a tired and not pleasant henry, we promised each other we would 1. never fly again*, 2. never have another baby**, and 3. seriously, never fly again. 

i hope you had a wonderful christmas full of family and laughter, good food, and big, genuine hugs from people you see too little and love so much. tomorrow is new years eve, and i get to stay home and catch up on my tea drinking, bath taking, and lazy making. i plan to get my hair cut, a luxury i never knew would sound so sweet. happy new year!

* we lie to ourselves about never flying again everysingletime we fly. we both hate it, for completely different reasons, and we always end up doing it again and again and again. 

** scared ya, didn't i grandmas. god willing i will have 6 more babies, but no - i'm not pregnant, for all inquiring brother-in-laws ;)

o.n.e.

my little boy, he's...

one!

which sincerely makes me stop cold in my tracks, as first birthdays usually do. twelve months. how did that much time pass? because i swore that wouldn't be me, i wouldn't be that mom who let the clock spin so quickly, or let the hours pass without notice. but i was, and it did. and even though through the cold, lonely 3 o'clock feedings, when i was sure the hours didn't pass at all, i knew without a doubt i would be able to control the time, and the passing of it. wrong, wronger, wrongest.



on the day my henry turned one, joey and i tore into his bedroom the second we heard him stir. and with us, we brought gold balloons. scads and scads of gold balloons with which to fill his crib. he swam around in the magic of being a one year old boy with golden balloons in his stark white crib while his crazy parents sang "happy birthday" in goofy voices and smiled and squealed until he was giggling himself, so caught up in the fun of it all.

and then, he swam some more! it was our first day of swimming lessons, and henry was so tired he could hardly keep his weary eyes open. but he was such a good sport, and i am so excited to go back tomorrow for lesson number 2!

we had the most special day with my very special boy. i just couldn't be more proud of this kid.

to round out the tradition, here's my hucka at 12 months - one year old!

and don't forget, henry at 1 month, 2 months, 3 months, 4 months, 5 months, 6 months, 7 months, 8 months, 9 months, 10 months, and 11 months.

oversharing at its finest

i don't think it's any secret that being a mama* is hard. and lord knows i've written about my own struggles a time or twenty. but no matter how much i sometimes wish i could do nothing but stare at a wall for seven sweet hours in a row after tackling one of huck's more impressive shows of defiance, there is nothing i have done in my life that comes close to filling my heart the way that being henry's mother has done.

on saturday, huck will turn one. he came into this world defining his own path, and every day since he's done his best to teach his type-a mother that plans really are just a loose outline of what could be a much better ride with a little bit more freedom to roam. so we roam these days, and it's still really hard - this mama thing - but i've got some great company to lean on. we (meaning i) mess up a lot, but we're doing our darndest to enjoy the ride. all of it. even the deep, muddy puddles and tire-shredding rocks.

henry is tough-as-leather determined when he is sure he's made up his mind. he's always been really talented at back arches, the kind that makes his head pop back onto any surface behind him - the soft forgiving kind, or not. but lately, once he's flipped his head back in disgust/agony/boredom, he'll twist himself up like an alligator to escape parental constraints. and in the second it takes him to rip his body from the embrace of his captor, he turns himself into a loose puddle of sorrow, crumpled on the ground with is face in his hands (literally) to mourn the dreadful events that brought him to his wits end. and in the next minute, he's on his hands and knees racing at full speed towards any and all forbidden electrical cords/toilet bowls/garbage cans/cupboards filled with toxins/etc. it's all a cyclical game of "what's henry going to do next?", and his parents are tied for dead-last!

he knows where his teeth are, and if he's in any kind of mood to humor you he'll point them right out on the spot. he likes to give high fives, big, open mouthed kisses to daddy and only the best kind of hugs for mommy. he feeds himself - no thank you, i don't need any help. and his bottle or cup are most often favored over any other kinds of sustenance. he hates his car seat (constricting!), loves his stroller (open air adventure!), and when witching hour (6:47pm) strikes - the bathtub is the only place he'll keep his cool until bed time, at 7:04.

he's all kinds of wonderful, and i could go on and on. but i won't. because we've got company coming in to help us celebrate our birthday boy this weekend, and i've got an apartment that needs to get cozy with some dusting spray and a vacuum cleaner before henry plows through the door to destroy e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g ;)

have a good one!

ps: he was a dinosaur for his daycare halloween party, and we dressed him back up to go out for sushi that night (hence the red "bib"). but that was the extent of his halloween adventures, because he's not even one yet, you guys! he fell asleep like a dinosaur angel on the way home from dinner and we had to peel his costume off of him while he slept once we were home. it was maybe one of my most precious recent memories.

*that first link, at the very top, is it! words stitched together in exactly the right combination of bitter truth and beautifully described solidarity. read it, fellow mamas (and then call me, because "lonely" is my middle name)!