wa'mo

This past Christmas we bought William the cutest little wooden espresso maker. Because, of course, I love coffee and was giddy about the idea of a tiny kid coffee maker. It's impossibly adorable that this exists. Sometimes kids aren't as excited as you are about certain things, but thankfully this wasn't one of those times. He loved it.

I think at that point he only knew the color green because it was the color of Starbucks, and he heard me say "we're getting in the car because mama needs coffee!" more often than any other sentence in his life. Whatever the reason, he was actually very happy about his coffee maker. I taught him how to use it - pod in the slot, push the top down, fill the cup, pour some cream & sugar, stir with the spoon, ooh careful! Make sure you blow on it - and thus we ushered in the first piping hot cup of make believe. We both tried it, and agreed it was the best thing we'd ever had.

He actually made me some of this very special coffee this morning. He even let Ginny have some, making the sipping noises for her. After I've theatrically enjoyed my own sips, he always asks: "you wa'mo?" in his hopeful little way. Yes, William. I want more.

I want more of this imagination of yours. I want to drink your coffee every single morning. I want to remember the way your eyes squint and your voice goes progressively higher when you really, really want to postpone bedtime. "I can read more books?" or "I can have my new car in the bed?"
I want more of your surprised laughter, the kind that tumbles out of your little belly and lasts so much longer than either of us expects it to. And I seriously don't want you to ever realize that my kisses don't actually heal your wounds. I want to be more like you, and exclaim "I'm HAPPY!!!" after something doesn't go my way, but I make that choice anyway. I want more of your whispered words and the way your eyes search for me when you've wandered just a little out of reach. The way you run full tilt and hug my legs so tightly. I want more of the way you follow me and ask to do whatever it is I'm doing, too, just because you want to be with me some more.

I want more of your dancing, which consists almost exclusively of your left shoulder bouncing up and down. It's the only part of you that truly can't resist a good beat. I want more of the way you proudly gesture to your stuffed animals each morning and say, "Lookit! Look at all of my friends." I want more of the sneaky way you take care of Ginny, bringing her toys and giving her kisses and rubbing her little fuzzy hair on your face until it tickles your nose. I can never get it on camera, because you really only do it when you think you guys are alone. And it makes me so proud to be your mother.

So be sure, William. Don't ever doubt it. In fact, you never even have to ask.
Because with you, I will always, always wa'mo.

auntie, that's me

Let me just take a second to talk about being an aunt.

I've always known I was going to have kids. Probably a lot of them. I grew up in a family of 4 kids and adored it, and I hope to have a good little nest of children someday because siblings are an absolute blast. There's really nothing like them. My mother-in-law used to tell my husband and his siblings when they were little, "God has chosen you all to be best friends for life." 

And that's really the best way to explain it. It's a wonderful relationship that's unique and lasting. I wrote a post a while back about my lifelong wish to have a sister, but I really wouldn't trade my 3 brothers for anything.

But then there's aunthood. It's kind of a state of being, it's a calling. A calling that's completely out of your control. It's powerful. It redefines your identity. I entered aunthood almost four years ago, when little bebe Abigail was born. She was so cute and pink and big-headed and life-changing. Watching her grow has been...insane. Crazy, brilliant, exciting, scary, shocking, wonderful. It absolutely makes my own life seem so much faster. When you're able to track your own days by the constant changes in a child, you realize how quickly it all goes by. 

I'm just going to be completely honest with you all and say that I don't naturally like kids. I know it's a horrible thing to say, but I also know that I'm not alone. (Please tell me I'm not alone?)

Being around kids doesn't come naturally to me. My husband is the one who is going to be an absolute natural, the one who I think has wanted to have kids since he himself was a child. He has always wanted to be a dad.

Me? Well.
I'm the weird one who is totally fine not to hold the new baby. Who has to restrain myself from disciplining random kids because they're driving me crazy. The one who has really naive and ridiculous views on how to parent because oh boy if that was MY child... I'm the one who talks to children like they're adults because I can't stand baby talk, and because I don't even know how to gush over them. Instead I say things like, "What's shakin'?" or "Sup?"

I'm the girl that never babysat in my teenage years because I'd rather be broke than spend my days with little kids. I know I'm a terrible human. I would normally make jokes about it but it's honestly something that scares me. What if I'm a terrible mom? What if I don't even like my kids? I don't like most kids. It's the truth. I'm really sorry about that, especially if I've side-eyed your kids before.
Which I probably have.

But here's the really beautiful light at the core of this post: being an aunt.
Oh gosh, if becoming a mom is even more transformative than being an aunt, I can't wait to be that woman. Abby opened up a brand new corner of my heart that I didn't even know existed. I now have 5 nieces and nephews, and I love them all so much. Which is the great thing about love - it isn't stingy, it doesn't deplete, it multiplies. Despite my fears about being a mom, not having kids has never been an option for me. My dad once told me that he has always grieved for childless couples who decided when they were young that they never wanted kids and insist they're better off without them - because they'll never truly know. The joy, the transformation, the purpose, the legacy. They couldn't possibly have understood the gravity of their decision when they made it. And maybe they never will - or if they do, it'll be too late.

Even in my short 26 years I've seen career-minded couples devastated by their inability to have children in their late thirties and forties because they thought for sure they didn't want kids, that their lives were too busy and important to have them. I could talk for a long time about what I believe about children (hint: it's in the Bible), and how I think this generation is incredibly selfish (I'm lookin' at myself here too. Hiiii), but of course it's not up to me to make those decisions for other people. And I'll stop myself before this becomes a totally different post. But I absolutely want kids. I don't want to put myself above the future of our family, and what it will be like when I'm 80 to have children and grandchildren surrounding me. People who are literally a part of me. I want to be that old lady surrounded by loved ones.

Abigail is the oldest of my nieces and nephews and is now at the age where I can actually talk to her, and tell her secrets. I can see her eyes light up when she sees pretty clothes and jewelry (I can't even handle the excitement of our future shopping trips together), and I have a front row seat to observe her developing her own tastes and interests. She is a fabulous little creature and I love being close to her.

Being an aunt is the best because:

1. I am a precious one in her life. 
This is an honor, you guys. I'm already in the core of her life, by no merit of my own. I have the power and the blessing of being there for her. There are a few people in every child's life that will always be there as big influencers in their development. The immediate family is first, and then come the outer rings. Friends and extended family. Realizing the preciousness of our relationship, the honored role that I have in her life, is quite humbling and miraculous. It's real and it's for life.

2. There is a deeper connection with my siblings. 
Watching someone become a parent is quite revolutionary. It changes them and changes the relationship, and the fact that they flipped the switch and changed the rest of us into aunts and uncles makes it a much deeper and more meaningful connection. And the rest of us are no longer just siblings; we're a part of this joyous little club of aunts and uncles. We're no longer bonded by just the past, but by the future as well. Those relationships take intention, patience, love, honesty, hard work and understanding. Loving someone's children is like the white stuff in the center of the Oreo. It's important.

3. It is a small taste of parenthood. 
Emphasis on the small. You get real-life examples of what being a parent is like, but you get to leave. You don't have to stick around for the tantrums or the blow-outs. When everyone's sick or exhausted or teething, you can just peace out and go to brunch. Sip that mimosa and chillax. It's a great wake-up call for snobby childless folk who claim to have all of the answers, because parenthood is no joke. It's the real deal. You learn so many lessons by being an outsider looking in. It's enlightening and, for those of us planning to be parents, preparatory.

4. I have a beautiful new friend.
As an aunt, I'm family, but I'm also something else entirely. The calling of being an aunt transcends into an opportunity for real friendship with a child who loves me, looks up to me, and confides in me. I remember being a little girl and having a few young women in my life that I worshiped and adored. I was absolutely fascinated by their lives and wanted to be just like them. I love being on the flip side of that now, watching these kids grow and falling in love with the people they are becoming. I want to be their best friend. In a responsible, auntie-like way, of course.

We always talk about family around the holidays, but I think it’s a great time to dig a little deeper and really examine and appreciate the various roles we have as family members. Brother, sister, father, mother, daughter, son. We all have roles and are irreversibly part of the whole. Family is a beautiful puzzle of imperfect people made to love and support each other. I love that. 

And being an aunt is my favorite thing. 

character influence {frocktober, day 16}

I hope you don't tire of the sunset hour. It still takes my breath away whenever I waltz out the door to that perfect pink ridge of sky. 

We took these pictures among the bright green creosote bushes on my parents property. They're lovely little things up close, with little fuzzy white buds and bright yellow five-petaled flowers. They're the actual "smell of rain" that we all know and love in the desert. I have very distinct memories of walking up the driveway as a kid, hand outstretched to touch the many branches I passed, as if I was going through the high-five line at the end of a soccer game. I would always arrive at my friend's house across the street with that fresh, smoky smell of creosote on my hands. 

My friend Amber and I had such vivid imaginations as kids. As my husband and I walked around the bushes last night, I started thinking about all of the games and characters we would play around these patches of green and gold. It got me thinking about the many characters I encountered at a young age that truly influenced me. 

I remember very vividly when I began to say, whenever I was hurt or disappointed, that I was in the "depths of despair". Anne of Green Gables had a very vibrant impact on my personality. I wanted to be poetic, witty, dramatic, heartfelt. 

My early attachment to romantic gestures led me to the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice, which still gets me to this day. I love Elizabeth Bennet and her self-assuredness, her wit and her charm. Even better, I love that she admits that she was wrong. Although I would have too, for Colin Firth. 

I'm sure the gaggle of princesses I watched and loved had a pretty high impact on my love of dresses and jewelry. Camille from Little Nemo, Buttercup from The Princess Bride, Danielle de Barbarac from Ever After. And of course the Disney powerhouses, Jasmine and Belle. For obvious reasons, I always loved the dark-haired Disney princesses the best. 

Dress (shop!): Ruche, Cardigan: gifted (from Last Chance),
Lace Slip/Dress (remixed): old

Despite my affinity for sappy movies and female characters, I was quite the tom boy. My three brothers had a hand in that. I loved The Labyrinth and could sing along to all of those weird David Bowie tunes, and I begged my parents for months to let me watch Jurassic Park when it came out, even though I was only 5 or 6 at the time. Obviously my favorite Jurassic character was Ian Malcolm, who was obnoxious but witty and he was a survivor. He ended up being brave, risking his life to save the kids and charming us all with his Chaos Theory banter and sarcasm, not to mention his fetching thick-rimmed glasses. 

Then there was Philippe Gaston, played by Matthew Broderick in a little movie called Ladyhawke. I would call this a fairly sappy movie, but since my favorite character is a boy, I'm placing it here. He is the funniest little thief and was the sole cause of my Matthew Broderick crush that went on strongly into the late 90's, and still shows up occasionally when I watch Ferris Bueller or Godzilla. I love Philippe because he is honest and kind, and believes in the beauty of love, loyalty and sacrifice. I also love him because he says things like, "I know I promised, Lord, never again. But I also know that YOU know what a weak-willed person I am."

And lastly, there was the brave Atreyu, from The Neverending Story, that strange little movie that is better left to childhood recollections rather than watched as an adult. I blame him for my over-attachment to animals, because watching his horse Artax drown in the Swamp of Sadness while he screamed is something that still haunts me. I mean for real though why. 

I think characters that we love as children play such a fun part in who we decide to be, whether it's long-lasting or not. I don't still want to be Raggedy Ann, but I do cherish that Halloween memory of wearing her costume and watching her cartoon over and over. What a kind soul she is, and quite fond of candy and friendship. 

Which characters did you adore (and possibly imitate) as a child? 

faux-parenting {frocktober, day 9}

Frocktober, day 9: Layering lace over a bright dress!

My husband and I are spending the tail end of this week with my two darling nieces while my brother and sister-in-law are off on a lovely mini vacay. They don't get many chances for adventures with just the two of them (all of you parents-of-little-ones can totally relate) so this is a 4 day extravaganza of relaxation for them. 

For us, we're tag-teaming the effort between us and both sets of grandparents. It's a delight to be able to help and to spend extra time with the girls. It has only been one night and I've already had a pretty grand epiphany about children, parenthood and love. 

When I got to the house after work, my mom (their "miamaw") was outside playing with them. Abigail (the oldest, she's 3) especially was having a blast. When it was time for my mom to leave, Abigail hugged and kissed her probably 10 times. Abigail is definitely a miamaw's girl. My mom would rub her back and hug her and tell her how much she loves her. Oohhh I love you so much!

And Abby kept asking, "can I give you another kiss and hug?"

When my mom finally got out the door to head home, Abigail insisted on watching her drive away through the window. By this time I had a snack on the table for both her and her little sister, Annabella, so I let her sit in the window while I was in the kitchen with Bell. 

All of a sudden I heard this strangled sob, a really distressed squeal of sorrow. I ran into the living room and Abby's face was scrunched up in sadness. 

"I didn't say I love you to her! I didn't say I love you!"

I realized a couple things in that moment.

1.) Children are the most precious, genuine, loving little beings in the universe. 

2.) Words of love cannot be said enough. There is always, always room for more. 

Bonus: don't ever be too busy, or too dressed up, to take off your shoes and play in the dirt. 

I gently reminded that darling girl that she had said I love you, and I brought back to her mind the many sweet hugs and kisses she had just given to miamaw. She finally nodded, smiling a little, satisfied.
I remember being that girl. Crying through the window when my daddy drove away to work in the mornings. Just like Ever After: it was tradition! He always waved at the window!
Perhaps some day, when I have a baby of my own, I'll write a post on children and what a blessing they are. At this point I am woefully ignorant, and certainly willing to say so. But I catch glimpses, and that's enough for me to know the echo of such a blessing. I've been guilty of being afraid of having kids, unconsciously thinking of them as things: expenses, inconveniences. I am selfish. If they are anything, they're blessings, and that's all there is to it. Anyone who says any different is selling something.

The point, of course, is that bebes soak up love like very cute sponges. They need it even when they already have it. Attention and words of affirmation are so beautiful at that age. Maybe it's because they're learning so many new things and a lot of it just slips in and out of their brains like a crazy twirl of hot wheels tracks, but sometimes they just need reminding. They need reminding to go potty, so they definitely need reminding that they are loved. All the time. Remember the love.