tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18630116477069400392024-03-04T22:14:50.300-08:00Voguish At BestAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08297409342434943537noreply@blogger.comBlogger345125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1863011647706940039.post-52643868310591832302018-08-09T18:27:00.002-07:002018-08-09T19:42:23.733-07:00saying goodbye<br>
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For as long as I can remember, I've had the uncanny ability to imbue heavy significance to the most mundane things. I distinctly remember a shiny, purple plastic lobster necklace from Red Lobster that looked like it came straight from Mardi Gras hanging on my dresser for <i>years</i>. It had its place of honor because it represented and was received when we all went out to dinner for the first time after my dad was in a rather severe car accident. I commemorated that occasion, that feeling, my dad's continued improvement and health, by hanging onto that absurd plastic lobster.<br>
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Twenty years and many interventions later, I think I've gotten a <i>little bit </i>better at learning to let the <i>things </i>go while still keeping the memory and the meaning intact. But I still am as sappy as sap itself, and often find things sticking to my skin as I go through life. Thus, I find it rather painful to remove them and say goodbye.<br>
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When we moved to Virginia for law school, both Dusty and I made an early-on decision to treasure our time there. Sure, we knew it was temporary - but we weren't going to live that way. We were going to live with permanence. Plant our feet and produce the golden sap of loving investment and significant time. At one point, I remember a friend saying "you guys make <i>everything fun.</i>" At the time it was a half joke, because whatever it was they were talking about was something really silly (akin to a plastic lobster) that we were holding close to our hearts. But I have thought about that comment often. If nothing else, our time in Virginia taught me that I really do want that to be true. I want to enjoy life. All aspects of it.<br>
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There was a <i>lot </i>of uncertainty when we moved to Virginia. Our past selves never could've imagined that our time there would be so momentous to us - that someday we'd even be moved to reflect those years in the name of our daughter, Virginia Leigh. We can easily look back now and see all of the goodness. We were so intentional with our time and our friendships. Life is messy and inconsistent, but our future selves have a much keener sense of what ends up being meaningful to us in each season of life. Even the hard parts. With the benefit of perspective and the cleansing of time, we're able to look back and see what was special, what was worth it, what was beautiful.<br>
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I endeavor to live my life as if my future self has written me a letter about today. She wrote me a letter 3 years ago when we bought this intimidating fixer upper and said,<br>
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"Don't worry. You will fix this place up. You will bring your first child home here, and drink 78 gingerbread lattes in the first few months of his life. Gingerbread will always remind you of William. </div>
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You will love the color of your walls. You will fill those walls with music. You will open the doors countless times to people you love, and celebrate daily, big and small. You will bring your second child home here, the October baby your heart longed for, and she will be beautiful, and you will cry many tears of gratitude. Don't worry, because however fast the years may go by, you will be safe here and this place will be your home."</div>
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My sappy self is currently stuck to my favorite spot on this couch, crying over the many sunrises I have spent with my sleepless babies in this living room. Crying over the blanket draped over the piano in the next room, which has been Will's cave for the last few months, and which will be impossible for me to tear down. We'll have to tell the potential buyers that the cave comes with the property.</div>
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Thank goodness I've already learned those lessons about treasuring people and not stuff, right? Ha! </div>
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The truth is, we had no idea how significant this house would be to us. We became parents here. We could have never imagined the joy of that transition, the all-encompassing love that our hearts now carry. But we have cherished our time in this house, and we tried to do so from the very beginning. Even the hardest of the hard work, the most tiring of the tired days. Every moment. The best part of all of this is that we get to bring the crazy kids with us. Home is now the 4 of us - wherever we go. And while it is painful to leave, it's also joyous to know that we truly lived here. Lived with permanence, the only way that time-driven beings can, while still being unable to escape the ticking clock. I think I'm kind of in this sweet middle spot of being way more sentimental than your average Josephine, but not sentimental enough to be paralyzed by change. I know that change is inevitable and it also brings the most incredible growth. <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2014/07/why-moving-is-worst-but-it-has-made-me.html" target="_blank">I've written about moving</a> before, and how wonderful and awful it is. Change is what wild dreams require.</div>
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I already have that metaphoric letter from my future self in my pocket, but I won't open it quite yet. I have to say goodbye first. And then, and only then, will I be able to open it - to face the future with confidence and joy. But I have a feeling we'll be back to making everything fun in no time.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08297409342434943537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1863011647706940039.post-46653372510095787762018-03-22T21:20:00.000-07:002018-03-22T21:20:11.838-07:00wa'mo<br />
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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.<br />
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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 <i>coffee!</i>" 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, <i>ooh careful! Make sure you blow on it </i>- 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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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?"<br />
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.<br />
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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.<br />
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So be sure, William. Don't ever doubt it. In fact, you never even have to ask.<br />
Because with you, I will always, always wa'mo.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08297409342434943537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1863011647706940039.post-62454147997594645082018-03-16T10:27:00.002-07:002018-03-16T10:27:12.345-07:00when your family grows<div>
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This is something I have started to write many times, but it was only in the last few weeks that I finally found the words. I was able to articulate them while speaking to a dear friend who is about to have her second baby. I often have strong feelings about my own motherhood experiences, but I think it is sometimes in moments of empathy that we're able to reach through and grasp the things that we truly want to share with other people. Understanding, support, love, perspective, the bright side of change and the beauty of life.<br />
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I have seen so many young moms in the past year anxiously awaiting a new addition to their family. For me, becoming a mom was fairly easy. It felt right. I eased into the role of staying home with William and felt blessed to do so. I realized pretty quickly that my introverted self flourished in the intimacy of the one-on-one baby life. Chill pajama time for days. When we got pregnant with our second baby, I started having a hard time. I confided in a few moms what I was feeling:<br />
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<i>Guilt. What if I don't love this baby the way I love William? Why is it so sad and hard to say goodbye to this time of life? Fear. How will I balance the two of them? What if I'm not able to be with William as much? What if he needs me? How will this new baby fit into our family? I like things the way they are. </i><br />
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These wonderful women all said the same thing: I felt the same way. And trust me. That will all evaporate the second you meet your new baby. Your heart will burst and multiply and you will wonder how you ever thought there wouldn't be room in your heart or home for this new life.<br />
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The funny thing is, I'm baby number 3 in my own family! So obviously I should have known that the best is yet to come. But there are a couple of things that work against us here. The hormones, fatigue, and sickness of early pregnancy are rough. They don't help those feelings of inadequacy. We also didn't find out the gender which, though an incredible birth experience, made it a bit more difficult to feel bonded throughout the pregnancy. I had no idea I held my little girl within me. I couldn't know her, dream about her, call her by name, tell Will about her. In the midst of my fear of change, I think those things may have helped some of that anxiety.<br />
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I confess that I shed many tears as I held onto Will extra tight, and realized that our era was coming to an end. It was very hard, friends. I say you should embrace those feelings. It is okay to be sad and realize that your time together has been incredibly precious to you. Allow yourself to cherish your time with your firstborn, and feel so lucky to have him/her as your oldest child. None of your other kids will get this time! Your oldest is unique, and is the only child to be spoiled this way. It is a treasured time of learning for you both. They will make a wonderful big brother/sister. They will lead and love on your other babies and it will seriously bless you tenfold for the rest of your life.<br />
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I was very surprised by:<br />
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1.) How much I immediately and overwhelmingly adored Ginny. Like <i>whoa. </i>After we brought her home, I couldn't believe how nervous I had been. <i>She belonged in our family. </i>From the very beginning. I think our bodies help with this, too. The hormones of birth, nursing, etc. God designed us with such purpose.<br />
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2.) How much time I still have with Will! Newborns sleep SO much at first, it's crazy. It's funny how quickly we forget. Even if the nights are rough, their entire cycle revolves around eating and sleeping. That's all they do. And they can't move. Haha. They will stay put. I actually started feeling more guilty about my lack of time with Ginny, rather than with Will. Ginny spends a lot of time elsewhere: her mat, her swing, her bumbo. When Will was a newborn I had all the time in the world to just stare at him and worry over every hiccup. But Ginny gets to chill while Will and I play. I'm much more relaxed with her.<br />
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3.) How extraordinary it is to shepherd William's heart into being a caring, protective, loving big brother. Getting him up in the morning and hearing him say, "where's Ginny girl?" is the most amazing thing on earth. Seeing him perk up, constantly attentive to her cries, tenderizes my heart. Their relationship is a lifelong promise. It teaches & sanctifies on the daily.<br />
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All of that to say... don't try to force your feelings, or fall into guilt over them. It is truly impossible to imagine what having another baby will be like for your family until it happens. Dusty reminded me of New Year's Eve, 2015, when I was days away from having William. I cried SO MUCH that night. I was so sad it was our last one together, just us. And now I literally cannot imagine our lives (and our New Year's Eves) without our children. When we do a group hug and William whispers, "Mommy, Daddy, William, Ginny. This is our family!" I flutter quietly to the ground like confetti. Every chapter has a bittersweet ending, but I promise the sweetness wins out.<br />
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Sending love to you and your (quite literal) growing pains, moms. They are so worthwhile!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08297409342434943537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1863011647706940039.post-90664952396626989372018-03-06T15:23:00.001-08:002018-03-06T15:23:15.761-08:00curator of dreams<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Remember when I used to write here?</div>
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It has been over a year since I clicked these keys with this kind of purpose, and it feels pretty good. William is now two years old, and we have welcomed a beautiful baby girl, Ginny, to our family. I spoke in <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2017/01/when-your-baby-turns-1.html" target="_blank">my last post</a> about the brevity of life, and I feel that now more keenly than ever!</div>
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Sigh. So William is two. It's crazy. He is a fabulous, creative, sweet, inquisitive, hilarious two year old. I have started to realize in these past few months that his first memories are lurking around us, bound to be etched somewhere in these colorful days. They are forming as we speak. I am so curious about which experiences his little mind will cling to. Will he remember the days when it felt like he and I were the only ones in the world, dancing in the living room and loving the simplest things? </div>
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I remember odds & ends about my childhood, but many of my early memories have to do with make-believe, magic, and bedtime stories. In the stories my dad used to tell us, we were always the heroes. We met fantastic friends and daring creatures and we always, always won the day. How wonderful it was to have my imagination shaped, tended to, and nourished by my parents. I am beginning to realize what a mighty gift that is.</div>
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It is so incredibly exciting to have the honor of introducing the things that will someday produce nostalgia in the hearts of our children. I am a curator of dreams. It's a wondrous thought. At this beautiful age, everything that William sees, reads, tastes, and enjoys is more or less organized by us. We parent the archive of whimsy. We pass along things we loved as children, and find renewed joy in them through the eyes of our little ones. Things like the rooster minstrel from Disney's Robin Hood, and Renaissance Festival pizza. We then discover new loves together, like the Little Blue Truck books and Cadbury milk chocolate mini eggs. It is a fabulous journey. </div>
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It won't always be this way, of course. As he continues to grow, he will find his own way more and more. He will develop preferences apart from ours, and he may even decide he doesn't like certain meals I make (gasp), or songs I listen to. All of these day-to-day toddlerhood things will eventually just be a tiny part of who he is. They will fade away, one by one, just as his habit of saying "I do!" to every question has now matured into a hearty "yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah". He will develop around and past them, and I will count myself blessed a hundred times over to know his future self the way I know him as a little boy. </div>
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But right now? We dance to the Greatest Showman soundtrack, belting <i>a million dreams</i>, and he feeds off of my excitement, finding joy in the things we can share. His mind is a fascinating thing, reaching its many tendrils outward and constantly grasping at the things it loves best. Words, sounds, faces, meaning. I will use this time to imbue as much dreaminess to his memories as I can, so that one day we might be able to look back together and say, remember when all was magical? When you and I danced, and were the only ones in the world. </div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08297409342434943537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1863011647706940039.post-34276542737976094742017-01-06T23:02:00.000-08:002017-01-07T00:51:34.826-08:00When your baby turns 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When your baby turns 1, it's like it all hits you: you have a kid. You're a parent. You've spent the last year of your life loving and taking care of another human. And not just any human; YOUR human. The one you carried and anticipated for 9 months, the one you dreamed and wondered about. The one you nicknamed and danced with and loved to a newfound degree of wow.<br />
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When your baby turns 1, it's hard to express the tumble of emotions that roll around your heart and mind. It's a milestone that feels so significant and inexplicable. A year. Really? Already? You're faced with the fact that somewhere between those <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2016/04/when-all-is-softness.html" target="_blank">soft, blurry newborn days</a> and this 1st birthday you entered true, daily parenthood. You fumble less and find a rhythm of diaper changes, meals, bath times, bedtimes. Certain things used to be monumental and are now second nature. I don't think I felt the shift when it was happening, but I certainly see it now. My baby is no longer a baby. His amazing thick thigh rolls have thinned into healthy mini kid legs, prepped for walking (whenever the motivation kicks in). His quick funny movements have become more focused and experienced as he crawls at full speed, pulls himself up onto the couch, feeds himself crates of blueberries and plays with his favorite toys again and again. His gurgles and spit-bubbles have turned into constant chatter. He is this mobile, talkative, funny little person. And I'm left wondering where in the world my newborn has gone.<br />
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When your baby turns 1, you suddenly realize that this insanely fast-paced year is an indication of how quickly life will be going by from here on out. I think I've been in denial for a while that I'm no longer a "new mom"...that I no longer have a newborn. Every month gone by has taken me by surprise. When the waitress asked me how old my son was today, I choked on the word "one". I am so unprepared to have a 1-year-old. Measuring each hour, day, week, month by the growth of a child brings new meaning to the brevity of life. This year has been the best of my life. As each day passed, it became harder (and now, impossible) to imagine and remember life without Will. I carry his heart in my heart, and he absolutely carries mine.<br />
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A year ago to this very moment, I was spending my very first hours with my gorgeous baby boy. Those moments are so vivid in my memory, I can hardly believe there's so much distance between those memories and where I currently sit. Time has beautifully shaped us into a family of 3. William is sleeping upstairs, his birthday coming to an end, and he's sweetly unaware that it was different than any other day. When your baby turns 1, you celebrate the amazing life you've gained (and cry a little) and look forward to many more years of unbelievable change, growth, love, delight. Happy 1st birthday, my beautiful darling William Boyer. We are so glad to be yours. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08297409342434943537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1863011647706940039.post-58992487098150931552016-10-24T13:17:00.002-07:002016-10-24T13:23:39.104-07:00nothing new under the sun<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrCMVAtUPz-Ul59vXKKXXoOboQUzdHJgBoe4ZhxJil0pMgOUipXmtedlKWEX_7DXEWw-5ngCUC0uRD57t9fvUZn0evwDbrdA-Y3SAZmhzdZolmzhXVXazrKUJNd8u7bK72ytwb98mgmjQ/s1600/IMG_1873.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrCMVAtUPz-Ul59vXKKXXoOboQUzdHJgBoe4ZhxJil0pMgOUipXmtedlKWEX_7DXEWw-5ngCUC0uRD57t9fvUZn0evwDbrdA-Y3SAZmhzdZolmzhXVXazrKUJNd8u7bK72ytwb98mgmjQ/s400/IMG_1873.JPG" width="311" /></a>32 years ago, my mom wandered into a little shop on a family trip and found this beautiful print. She was pregnant with her second child, my brother Michael, and wondering about how life would change with a new baby in the mix. She saw this picture and it spoke to her: when that sweet babe is in your arms, love multiplies.<br />
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She recently gave this print to me and I cried a lot (add to the list of things that make me cry: family keepsakes, the song "landslide", Target gift cards, when Rachel finds out she's pregnant on Friends). I look at this picture and I can feel William's warmth on my shoulder, hear his soft breathing, smell his sweet skin, feel the wisps of his blonde hair tickling my nose. I can practically transport myself back 32 years and see my mother experiencing these same wonders with her little boy. She was there, as I am here, and it was in the caramelly center of those early experiences when she decided that she was smitten, twitterpated, dedicated, all in for motherhood. And that, of course, is what brought me here. We are living this together, side by side, in different decades.<br />
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There is nothing new under the sun. Isn't that fascinating? The bible says in Ecclesiastes 1:9 that "what has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun." On the one hand, that's kind of a bummer. It kind of eliminates the validity of our desire to truly wallow in moments of self-pity. Those times when we're rundown or in pain or exhausted. When I was pregnant and fearful about childbirth I was constantly told, hey. Women have been doing this since the beginning of time. You're not alone. But in the throes of actually experiencing it, it was like, NO. NO ONE HAS EVER DONE THIS. THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE.<br />
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What if you actually were the first person in existence to experience something, though? That would be so legit. Talk about being vindicated in your moment of suffering. In biblical times, yeah. There was a first person for everything. There was a first childbirth, a first stoning, a first infidelity, a first death in the family. Those hurts and pains and life struggles were raw and real and they could actually say, <i>God. This isn't fair. NO ONE ELSE HAS EVER HAD TO GO THROUGH THIS. </i>We don't really get that satisfaction today.<br />
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But on the other hand, that's kind of okay. It's comforting. No matter what the circumstance is, you're not alone. After countless generations of lives have been lived on this earth, you can rest in our God who sees, and in the God-given camaraderie of mankind. When you post on Facebook that you just stepped on a LEGO, everyone will be like OH DANG GIRL. We've all been there.<br />
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That camaraderie and universal understanding is what makes being a mother so rich. I'm not at a table for one. I'm not experiencing these things on an island. I have generations to back me up, including my own mother and grandmother and siblings and friends. It's such a wonderful place to be. When I look at this print, tears fill my eyes because I see William and I in it. But I also see my mom and Michael in it. And so many other mothers I know and love with their baby boys and these glorious moments that are so unique but so beautifully shared throughout history.<br />
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There is nothing new under the sun...but it's certainly my first go around under its light, and I'm going to cherish the brilliance. I'm so thankful for the gift of this life (and the gift of this token of motherhood). If you've ever seen the movie <a href="https://www.amazon.com/About-Time-Domhnall-Gleeson/dp/B00BEIYGK2/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1477339400&sr=8-2&keywords=about+time" target="_blank">About Time</a>, you'll know what I mean when I say I'd like to spend each day as if I've deliberately come back to this one day to enjoy it. Also, if you haven't seen About Time, stop reading this and go buy it and watch it. Or come over to our house and experience it with Dusty sobbing beside you. That's my favorite.<br />
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(Thanks for this gift, momma. I will cherish it. Thanks for being my mother for life.)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08297409342434943537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1863011647706940039.post-11646227846381132882016-10-12T08:34:00.001-07:002016-10-12T08:38:01.179-07:00to be known<div>
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As I'm journeying through my first year as a mother, I find that my thoughts as I go through my day, as I lay down to sleep, as I first begin to stir each morning are predominantly for the breath and well-being of my William. I sometimes forget to eat lunch or pay the bills or even shower, but never William. </div>
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I know him. Possibly better than I've ever known anyone (although that doesn't mean he doesn't often surprise and confound me, which is kind of the best part of knowing someone... it's an ongoing education). I know what he smells like and the myriad of sounds he makes when he's happy, sleepy, grumpy and every other dwarf. I know his increasingly competent movements and the way he crawls at full speed after the cats, and how he clutches and grins and focuses on the funniest things. </div>
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It's an odd job, really, being a mom. Knowing your child so intimately. To be known is such a beautiful thing. I've had deep, meaningful friendships and I have enjoyed the depth of a wonderful marriage, but this is something else entirely. It's a new brand of connection. As I watch and enjoy everything about William, I find myself wishing that he could know me, too. It sounds almost like a tragic plot device that these 9 months have been the best of my life, but William won't actually remember any of them. He will never know me in this young, new-mom phase of my life. A few years from now his first memories will begin to take residence in his mind, and he will know and remember me as his momma. His weird old mum. I will take up my sword and shield for him daily, protecting and loving and guiding while sacrificing a certain something; something that isn't truly revealed to him until much later in life. </div>
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I've never appreciated my parents more than right now. I feel like as an adult I have the honor of getting to know them as individuals and friends as well as parents. I can better understand who they were to me then, and who they are to me now. Now that I'm a mom myself, I can better imagine my mom caring for us four crazies at home for all those years. I'm taking a few steps in her shoes, and replaying so many days in my youth and wondering how they must have affected her. I'm imagining William going off to college and wondering how my leaving may have been harder on my parents than I ever knew. It's a funny cycle of life that these realizations are so belated. </div>
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I wonder at my role in William's life and in the lives of my future children. How will I possibly balance the discipline, comfort, love, pride, fear, adoration? I think often mothers feel lonely, misunderstood, underappreciated. I think it's because <i>normally </i>when you invest in an important relationship, and spend 90% of your time with another human, there's a significant exchange there. But as a mom, it's one-sided. Raising a baby means pouring your heart and soul into this wonderful creature who will not know your favorite color or your greatest fears. They will not know they've ruined your favorite shirt or care when they spit up all over your hair. A good friend would <i>never do that. </i><br />
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Raising kids into childhood means you may stay up all night worrying or spend weeks planning a party or contemplating the details of their hair color, freckles, lopsided grins and personality and they may look at you bewildered one day, like, "hi food lady, what's your name again?" They may give all the credit to daddy for things you did, or completely forget your birthday, or much rather spend time with their friends than with you. As their mother I will daily do the work, make the choices, kiss their sleepy foreheads, (sometimes) hold my tongue, run the errands, say my prayers, and give them my heart to squeeze or crumple or bounce around. It's not an exchange; it's a glorious generous heart-filling character-building life-changing servant leadership. It's hard and it's weird, but it's the best of life. Even now, as I lay him down to sleep each night, I hold him close and pray and cry over him because I've never loved anyone so darn much. I have had moments of uncertainty, overwhelming love, spikes of panic and swarms of gratitude and faith. Such tender moments of self-discovery and bonding that he will never know nor remember.<br />
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I have made the comparison before that becoming a mother has been like taking my old self - my thoughts, my humor, my dreams, my heart - and dipping them in chocolate. I'm still me, but my life is sweeter and richer with William in it. Being his mother is and will always be a layered, nuanced thing that I love and am baffled by. It's a little bit scary. It's a lotta bit magnificent. I know that my sweet boy will love me, in different wondrous ways at every stage of his life. Right now he thinks I'm pretty much the greatest thing he's ever laid eyes on, so I'm gonna hold onto that when the going gets rough. When I feel lost or buried, I will lean evermore on those who know me best: my husband, my family, my dearest friends. To be known is crucial to life, my friends. It's the sharing that makes beauty what it is.<br />
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I look forward to knowing my perfect, darling son in all of his intricacies forever and ever, even when he claims, as I often did as a teenager, that I have somehow "scarred him for life." I have the great job and joy of knowing him from atom. That's right, William Boyer, I know you. I have the greatest vantage point there is. So here's looking at you, kid - every day for as long as you'll have me. You are the greatest thing I've ever laid eyes on. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08297409342434943537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1863011647706940039.post-52500079343759154702016-10-10T15:44:00.003-07:002016-10-10T15:44:54.231-07:00fall is here: frocktober recap<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: medium;"><i>Autumn is...</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #783f04;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i><b>birthday month </b></i></span><i style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">pumpkin spice <b>cutesie baby pajamas </b>decorating <b>hay rides </b>kettle corn </i><i style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>weekend trips </b></i><i style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">sweater weather </i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i><b>burnt orange </b>scarves <b>plaid </b>changing leaves <b>crisp mornings </b>harvest festivals <b>the state fair </b>thanksgiving <b>fireside evenings </b>pumpkin patches <b>pumpkin everything </b>s'mores <b>camping </b></i></span></span><i style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">apple cider <b>harry potter </b>butterbeer <b>baby's first </b></i><i style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>halloween </b></i><i style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">movie nights </i><i style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>scented candles</b></i><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i><b> </b></i></span><i style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">couch cuddles </i></div>
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<i style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>tights & boots </b></i><i style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">spices </i><i style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>hot drinks </b></i><i style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">cozy socks </i><i style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>caramel </b>golden days</i></div>
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">And... it's <b><i>Frocktober. </i></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Oh, how I love this season. I am so excited to introduce William to all of the wonderful things about Fall. I know he won't remember his first Fall in the world, but I sure will. We're planning his first Halloween costume, we've decorated the house in Fall leaves and pumpkins, and we've had Autumnal candles burning for weeks now. I took him to <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BLP8almj9I8e6UJhq4XOZmGaowXimYAH7Pvwr80/?taken-by=caitschan">his first pumpkin patch</a> and I bought as many Octoberesque things I could find during Old Navy's baby sale. I just love this month. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 18.2px; text-align: center;">Of course, over the past few years this blog has been all about <i><a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/search/label/frocktober?m=0" style="color: #bf9000; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Frocktober</a>.</i><i> </i>The collage above is a little recap of last year's Frocktober dresses. It was by far my favorite year to date. I had so much fun going through my closet to find things that could work as maternity wear, and being pregnant in the Fall and Winter is the <i>best. </i>Sweaters and leggings galore! </span></div>
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 18.2px; text-align: center;">I haven't officially posted anything about it here on the blog (I've obviously been a bit lax on here since Will was born), but I've decided not to do Frocktober this year. I still love it. But as it came closer, I realized that the thought of it was causing more stress than excitement. I am enjoying being a mom so very much, and my daily uniform is random and messy and wonderful. I want to focus this October on the many Fall firsts of my little boy. I know I will eventually get back to my creative style, but for now my heart is elsewhere.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 18.2px; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="line-height: 18.2px;"></span><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 18.2px; text-align: center;">For those of you who don't know about my Frocktober</span><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: center;">, you can</span><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: center;"> </span><a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/p/frocktober.html?m=0" style="color: #bf9000; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: center; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">read more about it here</a><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: center;">. As I said, the collage above is my Frocktober 2015</span><i style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: center;"> </i><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: center;">challenge. You can also check out <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2015/09/first-of-fall-frocktober.html" target="_blank">2014</a>,</span><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: center;"> </span><a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2014/09/first-of-fall.html" style="color: #bf9000; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: center; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">2013</a><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: center;"> and</span><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: center;"> </span><a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2013/10/frocktober.html" style="color: #bf9000; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: center; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">2012</a><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: center;">. My main motivation for participating in Frocktober has always been to challenge myself to find new purpose and appreciation for what I already have - avoiding shopping for the month and bringing new creative life to my dresses and other accessories. It has been so much fun having other ladies join me in the challenge - the </span><a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/p/frocktober.html?m=0" style="color: #bf9000; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: center; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Frocktober Sisterhood</a> <span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: center;">is my favorite. If you'd ever like to join (it's not too late!) m</span><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: center;">y challenge to you for the rest of October is to not only be creative and innovative with your existing closet, but to also try to avoid purchasing new clothes. Think outside the box. Have a clothes swap with friends, or go thrifting, or consider using your clothes budget to purchase from a company that gives back - like</span><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: center;"> </span><i style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: center;"><a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2015/09/inspiration-krochet-kids-intl.html" style="color: #bf9000; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Krochet Kids intl.</a> </i><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: center;">or another cause that really speaks to you. Take the month to be intentional with what you wear and how you wear it. </span><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: center;">It's such a great challenge and I have always had a blast doing it. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: center;">I am hoping to still do a few special style posts this month in honor of Frocktober, perhaps on some great nursing mom dress options. I hope you all have a superb October, and enjoy all of the best things about this season!</span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08297409342434943537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1863011647706940039.post-32761912132945857522016-06-19T06:00:00.004-07:002016-06-19T06:03:57.848-07:00on your first father's day <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I knew you when.<br />
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When you were a boy with shaggy hair, singing songs and playing soccer and butting heads with your mom. When you were making jokes in between classes (and in classes) and creating nicknames for everyone you knew. I knew you at the pinnacle of your youth and silliness. When you teased the girls you liked. When pooka shells were still occasionally worn. It's true.<br />
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When you sang "Hero" by Enrique Iglesias and when you asked to hold my hand by writing it out in a text message. When you were red-cheeked from our first kiss and promising me forever and writing love notes. Making plans and choosing colleges and deciding, right then and there, that all our dreams would come true. I knew you when you talked animatedly about having kids, and the fact that we were still kids ourselves didn't seem to phase you at all.<br />
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You have been a dad-in-the-making for as long as I've known you. Waking up next to you this morning and seeing you as that boy / my husband / <i>a father</i> is such a supercalifragilisticexpialidocious feeling. Growing old with you will be all the sweeter for having known you as that boy, and watching you grow to raise our own. There are moments when none of this seems real, and the love and blessedness of our home together threatens to fill and burst me like a giant heart balloon. <br />
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I have seen you grow from the boy I knew and rolled my eyes at to the man who now guides our own boy to know and love what is Good. I have seen your sweet and fun-loving heart tenderized by fatherhood. I look at our son and suddenly I can see, in my mind's eye, the many precious years of your life that I missed. The missing links to who you are. I can see your furrowed brow as you made your first childish discoveries and feel your mother's love for you. I can see the pinpricks of personality blossoming in your eyes. It's all here, in the face of our son.<br />
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I marvel and delight in you both. You and I have a brilliant history; a wonderful collection of years together. Travels and weird traditions and Coldplay dance parties. We made <i>everything </i>fun. While they were golden years, they were far from our greatest hits. We are now able to choose our favorite things and do them all over again with our <i>son. </i>Let's travel the world, make up silly songs, read Harry Potter, spend time with kindred spirits, eat our favorite foods and listen to the Beatles (ok, and One Direction too). <br />
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Today, I want you to know that you have kept your silliest (and best) promises to me from way back then. This is a dreamy life and I adore you. Happy first Father's Day, my love. Today is special for us both, because darling... <br />
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I knew you when.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08297409342434943537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1863011647706940039.post-52116693325145594492016-04-25T08:48:00.002-07:002016-04-25T08:49:18.060-07:00when all is softness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've been away from this writing space long enough that I have started to narrate blog posts in my mind as I drink my coffee in the morning or when I'm driving to the grocery store. Strings of sentences pull together when I least expect them to; things I want to say and write down, but never do. I think my somewhat subconscious avoidance of this space has to do with the strange limbo I find myself in... the adjustment of being a stay at home mom, which is both brilliant and baffling. Perhaps I'm in a creative rut. Even so, the words have been pounding a strong beat against my mind lately and so here I sit, letting them play their rhythm onto my keyboard for a change.<br />
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I've been thinking a lot about what my life looks like now - how it's defined, how I'll look back on it 10 years from now, what it <i>feels </i>like. Perhaps every mini era of our lives could be whittled down to a meaningful word or two that captures its thematic significance, and the one that keeps coming to my mind now is <i>softness. </i><br />
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All is softness, here. That's the way I feel. Being a mom is the softest thing I've ever been. My baby boy is soft, his cheeks his lips his fingers and toes. He has no hard edges, no broken pieces, no callouses or toughened skin. His heart has not been broken and he has made no mistakes. He holds the softness of innocence in every breath. He is a fresh start, everything ahead.<br />
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My body is also soft. Oh, yes. It is the hero of this story, I think. My body is now tender and taking its time, because time is softer now, too. The clock whispers its minutes in a much different tone. We no longer choose time in exact numbers because we're still figuring out the language. There's a learning curve and a cushion for every plan we make. Just when we think we have something figured out and set in stone, we look again, and it's silly putty. Soft, soft silly putty.<br />
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My ideas and my choices are all softer, easier, simpler. One thing at a time. No rushing, complicating, over-analyzing. Staying in is the new going out. My memories are filled with baby soft blurs of the last few months, all cotton and bleary-eyed sunrises. And let me tell you, my clothes are softer now, too. Comfort is a craving, really. A necessity.<br />
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The daylight is soft now, as it opens its first moments on my baby's cheeks while he wakes. His breath is the softest. His hair is softer still! I'll bet his dreams are soft, too. All milk and cuddles and fluffy blankets. I'm going to stay here for a while. Whether it lasts a month or a year. The mornings, the conversations, the naps, the learning, the newness, the feelings, the hugs and the kisses. It's the time when all is softness, and I'm going to fall back into it with a sigh.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08297409342434943537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1863011647706940039.post-84317833112058164722016-02-07T19:42:00.001-08:002016-02-07T20:59:24.172-08:00william boyer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, Happy Facebook Friends Day - have I missed anything else?<br>
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After months of not blogging, I find myself revisiting this little space to say <i>I have a baby! </i>My little boy is already 1 month old (as of yesterday), and it has been the most wonderful month of my entire life. I imagine it has been pretty grand for him as well - he has so much more room to wiggle and sing and squirm!<br>
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William Boyer came into the world at 8:08pm on January 6th, 2016. He was 9 lb, 5 oz and 21 inches long. He is also <i>absolutely perfect</i>, but that's basically the New Mom National Anthem so I'd like to go into a little more detail... partly for you, but mostly for me. This month has gone by in a blur of midnight conversations, earnest baby tears, bleary parent eyes, late morning naps, Friends marathons, couch cuddles, hummed lullabies, fresh baby clothes, and worn-out pajamas. I already feel like so many of the details have slipped out of my tired mind, and it's a true fear of mine that I won't be able to fully document and recall these priceless days of our newly baked parenthood. So here are a few things that I want to remember...<br>
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We call him bubba gump, gruntosaurus, sweet boy, will boy, and terry (short for pterodactyl) when he's particularly shrill. I love how strong he is. As soon as they laid him on my chest in the hospital, he lifted his head and looked around. No one has informed him that he's a newborn and is supposed to be fragile.<br>
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I adore the way he breathes. It's often stuttered and loud and deep (with his mouth hanging open), and it's always warm and sweet and friendly. I listen for it in the dark of night, and treasure the warmth of it against my neck. Remember when you were young, and you used to wonder what clouds taste like? (Was that just me?) That's what his breath smells like. It's cloud fluff a la mode. One of my more awkward hobbies now is resting my face against his and smelling his breath until he gets mad at me. I now understand why parents are so embarrassing.<br>
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I love the way he shakily head butts me when he tries to look me in the eyes. I love how his eyes then go cross as he works so hard to focus on mine, and the endless expressions he manages to create. They never, ever get old. He pushes his tongue against his bottom lip, he purses his lips, he scrunches his face and raises his eyebrows and stretches his arms and poses like superman and tries his best to look like the grumpiest old man in the land.<br>
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He is so active, so playful, so alive. He wiggles and kicks and <b>grunts </b>like a pro grunter, which isn't a thing. Until now. He grunts when he's happy, when he's angry, when he's (supposed to be) sleeping. Whenever I wake up in a pure and quite irrational panic, which is more often than I'd like to admit, there's no greater sound than his little drowsy grunts.<br>
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I love his lips and how he moves his mouth. I love his little spit bubbles and the way his clean, fluffy blonde hair smells after a bath. I love how he'll go perfectly still and just stare silently in one direction as if he's just discovered something that requires a lot of focused thought. The best thing in the world is the thoughtful way he clutches at my shoulder or my arm or my clothes when he's sleepy or nursing. His little fingers opening and closing in a gentle repetition, just to remind me he's still there. His fingers and toes are constantly in motion. The little dimples on his hands make me want to cry.<br>
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His eyes are so deep and beautiful, that stunning blue-grey slate. (Will they darken to brown like mine, or lighten to blue like his dad's?). Sometimes I almost feel like he is listening to me. He seems to think such deep thoughts... and then he'll squirm and fart and squeal and I'll realize he's only 4 weeks old, and his world is such a mystery to me. I constantly wonder what his view must be like. Is everything blurry? Does he see me when I hold him close and kiss his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his lips? When he smiles those sneaky smirks in the middle of nothing in particular, does he know he's smiling at me?<br>
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I find myself being washed from head to toe in those surprising moments of OH HEAVENS I love him so much, I may drown in the great sticky mess of it. I can hardly stand it. I cry when I think too much about his tiny footprints or the smell of his first shampoo. I never want to graduate from this land of new motherhood, with its many graces and firsts and cuddles and homemade lattes. I cry when I think about this time of life going too quickly and ending before I'm ready for it to. He won't remember these days, but I... well, I will long for them and dream of them and never, ever forget them. I will carry them with me for the rest of my days in the happiest pocket of my heart.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08297409342434943537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1863011647706940039.post-37147997272322505582016-02-07T08:30:00.000-08:002016-02-07T08:36:58.075-08:0041 weeksI wrote the blog post below on the very day that my water broke and we rushed to the hospital to have our sweet William! I had no idea what was about to happen, and that's kind of the best part of it all, isn't it?<br />
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I thought I'd share it now, because I distinctly remember typing these words almost exactly a month ago and the rush of feelings and fears. Little did I know that William actually<i> was </i>interested in coming into our rainy world, and that our induction appointment would not be needed. And we did, indeed, all survive! Praise the Lord.<br />
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<i>1.5.16</i><br />
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<i>Without even realizing it, 2 months have gone by and I haven't blogged a bit.</i><br />
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<i>In November we visited our dear friends in North Carolina, and I had two fantastic baby showers (the first was Le Petit Prince themed, the second was Oh, the Places He'll Go! and both were just the best). In December, we hit weeks 36-40 in what felt like record time. I had some time off of work which was so incredibly needed, and we were able to finish up so many things in our house - including painting the nursery! We had a lot of family time and us time. I haven't taken hardly any photos of anything, which feels very unlike me. But I'd like to eventually recap the past two months, especially our trip and my baby showers, but that'll most likely happen while I'm on maternity leave.</i><br />
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<i>Which brings us to right now. William's due date was December 30th, and he's still snuggled up in my tummy. His tiny (but strong) feet are pushing against my ribs. Tomorrow marks 41 weeks with this little nomad. I don't think he's interested in coming into this rainy world just yet. We're scheduled for an induction tomorrow night, January 6th, at 10pm. I am quite terrified.</i><br />
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<i>I have no idea what giving birth is like. There are so many mysteries. Even the things I've been told are hard to actually imagine. I have a lot of fears, and I think every single one is totally rational. Because this stuff can get crazy. He's so snug in here that I'm worried being induced will just end in an emergency c-section - what if he doesn't want to drop? What if his heart rate drops? What if I don't get to see him right away, because I'm incapacitated or because he's in some kind of danger?</i><br />
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<i>I've never experienced something like this. Certain pain is on the horizon. A kind which I have no ability to comprehend. It's already mentally taxing, just knowing it's coming. It's physical, mental, emotional.</i><br />
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<i>Every birth story is different and I'm standing right on the edge of mine. I can neither prepare for nor truly anticipate any of the details, and I have to just trust that the pain will be bearable, my baby will be healthy, and we will all survive.</i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08297409342434943537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1863011647706940039.post-84224027940576264642015-11-20T13:19:00.002-08:002015-11-20T13:19:37.211-08:0034 weeks<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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There are certain moments when the fact that I'm pregnant suddenly sinks in and I'm overcome with an incredibly surreal <i>hold on just one hot second </i>kind of swarm of feelings. That has been this week. The other night I was getting into bed (less and less gracefully these days) and I just turned (rolled) to face Dustin and said, "I'm really pregnant. When the heck did that happen?" He thought I said "<i>how</i>" so he was momentarily concerned and we had a good laugh.<br />
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But really, I'm feeling very shocked that Thanksgiving is next week and our baby is coming, ready or not, in 6 weeks. And don't say things like, "Well it could be tomorrow, ya know!" because if I haven't been totally clear yet, I'm in a little bit of a panic and those humorous bits of commentary kinda just make me go sdalkfjaskldjhfalwjer.<br />
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I'm trying to just see everything that's stressing me out as a great opportunity to laugh at myself. I'm stressed because our house isn't done, and I have this giant fear that once the baby comes all of these little things will <i>really </i>never get done. We'll have a to-do list miles and miles long, and we'll just be living in this weird limbo for years because we can never get around to crossing things off the list. There's just not enough time. I'm stressed out about the unfinished and the clutter. But then I realize that I've literally been living in clutter my entire life. Basically preparing to be a mom without knowing it. Clutter and I are besties. We understand each other. I have chosen clutter again and again, probably because I knew my future self would need this - to be happy and cozy and patient even in the clutter of new momhood. I knew there had to be a reason my room was never clean!<br />
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The truth is, expectations rarely meet up with reality. In my previous abstract thoughts about pregnancy and motherhood, I always imagined having a little girl. Not because I had a particular preference, but that's where my mind always went. But it's so wonderfully fitting that I'm going to be a little boy's mom...me, the girl with three brothers who was always surrounded by boys and legos and action figures and video games and dragons and sword-wielding stories of make believe. I am so much more prepared to be a boy's mom, and that's a fact. I knew there had to be a reason why I'm so weird! My little boy is gonna <i>love me. </i><br />
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My house will be cluttered, stories will abound, dragons will fly, and I will chill. We've got this.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08297409342434943537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1863011647706940039.post-42436562997473706352015-11-06T12:50:00.003-08:002015-11-06T12:52:20.850-08:00featured artist: hello halsted<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Every once in a while I come across something on Instagram or Etsy that really just kicks me in the teeth - because of its originality, beauty, uniqueness, or something akin to <i>I wish I was that creative. </i>It's the best kind of shock envy because it both surprises and inspires. I love supporting other artists, and sometimes I find something so spectacular that I just have to share it with others.<br />
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This week I stumbled upon <i><a href="https://instagram.com/hello.halsted/" target="_blank">Hello Halsted</a> </i>on Instagram through another Instagram account that I love, <i><a href="https://instagram.com/poppyandfern/" target="_blank">Poppy and Fern</a>. </i>Both of these ladies create stunning floral jewelry, but in very different ways. I long to have something from each of them; they're perpetually on my wishlists. Rachel of <i>Poppy and Fern </i>hand stitches her jewelry, and it's all amazing. She also has an affinity for poppies (as evidenced by her shop name), and I love everything she makes, <a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/206168072/poppy-and-forget-me-nots-hand?ref=shop_home_active_4" target="_blank">especially this necklace</a>.<br />
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Stephanie of <i>Hello Halsted, </i>on the other hand, uses <i>real </i>flowers - Queen Anne's Lace - to create her masterpieces. She dries, cuts and dyes them to create these stunning miniature watercolors trapped in resin. She typically makes a variety of necklaces and earrings, with occasional extras like rings. My favorites are the large circle, square or hexagon necklaces. Gorgeous! Did I mention she's only 25? Makes my year's to-do list seem a little underwhelming. She posts new batches of products <a href="http://hellohalsted.com/" target="_blank">in her online shop</a> every 8-12 days, which sell out <i>really fast. </i>I love this method, though, because it means that she's constantly preparing fresh and exciting designs for each new batch. Follow her Instagram to feel fragrantly inspired by her sneak peeks and new batch posts, and definitely take a look at <a href="http://hellohalsted.com/" target="_blank">her shop</a> - her new batch posts <b>TOMORROW, November 7th, at 11am</b>!<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08297409342434943537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1863011647706940039.post-92195564235161874742015-11-05T12:48:00.000-08:002015-11-12T07:31:34.278-08:00happy halloween! {frocktober, the end}<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>This was the best Halloween.</i></div>
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We have a short but fun history of <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/8jklWOiR5o/?taken-by=caitschan" target="_blank">dressing up as Disney couples</a> for Halloween. When we lived in Virginia, we participated in our church's Trunk or Treat for two years so we had to have costumes and a trunk theme. The first year we were Carl and Ellie from UP, and the second year we were Gnomeo and Juliet. It was a blast! This year we had to dress up, because coming up with a pregnant costume sounded like way too much fun...and how many chances like this will we get in life?</div>
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We decided a long time ago that dressing up as Pacha and his pregnant wife Chicha from <i>The Emperor's New Groove </i>would be perfect. I couldn't find much online in the way of costumes, so we figured it was a pretty original idea. We were thrilled when Colin and Victoria were totally on board with dressing up and walking around the small town of Blowing Rock during their Halloween festivities. They showed up with their Yzma and Kronk get-ups, and we were totally giddy. I love our friends. Victoria and I made our costumes (with the exception of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B012W0VVYO?psc=1&redirect=true&ref_=oh_aui_detailpage_o00_s00" target="_blank">my dress</a>, which was a lucky find on Amazon for $20!). She actually found a blog which had pretty great instructions for easily putting together costumes for Kronk and Yzma. I made the poncho for Pacha out of fleece from JoAnn's, and my mom whipped up the weird little Pacha hat. I made my necklace out of the same material as the hat for a geometric collar, and then made the earrings out of wooden discs from Michael's that I painted dark brown. I also bought the bright green headband at Michael's. All in all it was really inexpensive and very fun to put together. </div>
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It was incredibly entertaining seeing who recognized The Emperor's New Groove and who had <i>no idea </i>who or what we were trying to be. We began to realize that this movie seems to have only caught a handful of people in our exact age group. Any younger or older and it seems to have passed them right by. Which is a shame, because it's <i>the best. </i></div>
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Kronk, pull the lever!</div>
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Blowing Rock was decked out for the festival. There were hay rides and decorations around every corner. Once it began to get dark, most of the little shops were passing out candy for trick or treaters. The streets were soon full of kids and adults alike, and the temperatures began to drop drastically. We walked around and grabbed some coffee, and heartily enjoyed the many stares we received. </div>
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We shopped around a little bit, buying some local spices and wishing we could buy every little bizarre trinket and Christmas ornament we came across. Towards the end of the night we jumped onto the tail end of the Main Street parade (which was basically just everyone in costume walking in a big line down the street). We counted it among our more prouder moments of life. </div>
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Squeak, squeakin'. </div>
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The night ended with us back at the house, delaying getting out of our costumes for as long as possible. After taking a few more pictures, the lure of pajamas and s'more-making finally won out. We settled in and made a fire and got cozy with s'mores and freshly made fudge. It was a fantastic day. Best Halloween ever.<br />
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It also signaled the end of Frocktober 2015. Another great month of dress-wearing. I wasn't sure how this year would go, being pregnant and growing steadily out of all of my regular clothes... but I feel pretty good about the challenge! In honor of Frocktober I will be donating quite a few clothes in the next few weeks. I'm looking forward to having a much simpler wardrobe and being a lot more intentional in what I buy and what I allow myself to keep over the years. Cheers to Frocktober, friends, festivities and the best Fall yet.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvf959DKIlB55aE6TRYEcU4SaFd33c5upsuhxgFQ_yUwKshYTAJhIrkwsEiPIItZ914VjkDbejKLfC45VjeWAEkJuVzwYjrldh_-jMVxBRNQgzbEaaC0F3oTR1yQo0S5vdNBeJRqZQvtU/s1600/IMG_8004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvf959DKIlB55aE6TRYEcU4SaFd33c5upsuhxgFQ_yUwKshYTAJhIrkwsEiPIItZ914VjkDbejKLfC45VjeWAEkJuVzwYjrldh_-jMVxBRNQgzbEaaC0F3oTR1yQo0S5vdNBeJRqZQvtU/s400/IMG_8004.JPG" width="266" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08297409342434943537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1863011647706940039.post-23125240350688757492015-11-04T11:49:00.000-08:002015-11-11T11:50:49.412-08:00find the fall {frocktober, days 29-30}<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>Remixes:</i></div>
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Outfit 1: Dress <i><a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2014/10/craving-lazy-frocktober-day-2425.html" target="_blank">here</a> </i>and <i><a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2013/07/plaid-loves-to-read.html" target="_blank">here</a></i></div>
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Outfit 2: <i><a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2015/10/maternity-photoshoot.html" target="_blank">Dress</a> </i>/ <i><a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2014/10/character-influence-frocktober-day-16.html" target="_blank">Cardigan</a></i></div>
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The last few days of Frocktober were by far my favorite. Not because of the dresses or the outfit combinations, but because we were able to take off on a little vacation to find the Fall. We had long been planning to visit our friends Colin and Victoria in North Carolina, and a few months ago we finally took the plunge and bought the tickets. It's something we've been looking forward to ever since.</div>
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After our red eye flight from Arizona, they came and picked us up at the airport in Atlanta and we began the long drive to the mountains of Blowing Rock, North Carolina. Even though we were functioning on about four hours of sleep, the crispness in the air was enough to rejuvenate us. (Although I won't deny a few car naps on the way). When we finally got to the mountains the evening of the 30th, pulling into the driveway right at sunset, it was as if the mountains themselves were sighing along with us. <i>This is the life.</i></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08297409342434943537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1863011647706940039.post-19792337946815290632015-10-31T20:00:00.000-07:002015-11-04T08:27:29.113-08:00harry potter book club: the order of the phoenix<br />
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Happy Halloweeeeeen!<br />
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I have to confess... I've been dreading rereading this book. I've tried my best to shut it out over the past decade. I've only watched the movie once. It's probably a good idea for me to finally face my demons and accept that this book is, in fact, an integral part of the Harry Potter universe. And it really does have its merits. In truth, my memory had shut out anything good or interesting about this entry and chose to cling only to death and Umbridge. That's not a very good place to be. (But <i>Death and Umbridge</i> would be a pretty grand name for a band or a bar or a collection of angst-filled poetry).<br />
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So here I am, doing my best to start fresh and view this book as another work of art from Rowling. Spoiler alert: I think I failed. Cue lots of sarcasm and vaguely-masked despair.<br />
Let's dive in. God help us.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Peculiar Petunia</b></span><br />
Why am I so fascinated by Petunia? I want to know so much more about her. I think this book is the first time we (and Harry) appreciate her as his mother's sister, and as someone who grew up around, but just outside of, the wizarding realm. What must that have been like? The Dursleys are so intentionally ignorant of Harry's heritage that it's easy to forget that Petunia shares the same DNA. Which, as it turns out, is the reason why her home is such an integral part of Harry's protection - her blood, Lily's blood, seals that ancient magic that Lily produced when she sacrificed herself for her son.<br />
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Focusing on Petunia's past really exposes her jealousy, insecurity, pettiness, and fear. When she speaks up after the dementor attack and reveals her knowledge of exactly what the terrible creatures are, it's this fantastically polarizing moment. She mentions hearing the term told to her sister by that "horrid boy", who we assume to be James - and then she receives a raging Howler, REMEMBER MY LAST, which casts her in such a mysterious light. Who is she, really? How much energy does it take for her to pretend on a daily basis that she is normal? Does she ever grieve the loss of her sister, or has she been so truly embittered that she is content in being rigidly callous and average? There's a part of her that recognizes her role in protecting Harry, and is willing to continue doing so. I want to believe that she cares for him in some strange, small way.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The Order of the Phoenix</b></span></div>
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This is the good stuff. While we're stuck on the outside of the Order along with Harry and the rest of the students for quite a while, being introduced to the Order and its members and catching snippets of their activity gives us a glimpse of the first wizarding war - and what life was like for the few loyal members of the Order back then. It's a harrowing recollection. I understand Harry's shock and dismay when Mad-Eye shows him that photo of the first Order. What a terrible and tragic snapshot of good people whose lives were so completely destroyed. Seeing them in their young and hopeful state is rather jarring. </div>
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I can't really ever get over the tragedy of the Longbottoms. Harry has known about them for a while, but it's almost a relief when they all run into Neville at St. Mungo's and discover the truth about his parents. It's such an important piece of who he is. Neville is so pure and good and true. When his mother wanders over and gives him a gum wrapper, and his gran tells him to throw it away, and he tucks it into his pocket... this is what evil has done. Harry is not the only child left parent-less from war, and he won't be the last. Neville has suffered just as much, if not more, but he has no fame nor recognition. He could have been the one marked by Lord Voldemort as his equal, but he wasn't. He is left to be ordinary, but still lives a life marked by it cruelly.</div>
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Visiting Grimmauld Place also reveals even more of Sirius Black's dark past, and the macabre mess of the house succeeds in reflecting their tense circumstances. It's quite a fitting club. For me, one of the saddest moments in the entire series is when Harry finds Mrs. Weasley desperately trying to get rid of a boggart that is taking turns changing into each of her family members' dead bodies. A book clubber pointed out that Rowling is rather clever in the way she personifies human emotion. Dementors as depression, boggarts as fear. I think the usage of such monsters in a scene like this is incredibly poignant. Boggarts are so intimidating because they personify fear in such a physical, public manner. Others are suddenly capable of seeing your most intimate fear on display. In this case, these visions are no passing nightmare - the war is coming, and tragedy and death become more and more likely every day. Molly is eventually saved and comforted by Harry, Sirius and Lupin - who assures her that they're more prepared, and that this time is different. But is it? </div>
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<i>Let's take a break with some:</i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">Spot-On Quotes About Adolescence</span></i></div>
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<span style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><i style="font-weight: bold;">Hermione: </i>Oh, stop feeling all misunderstood.</span></blockquote>
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<i style="font-weight: bold;">Phineas Nigellus: </i>Has it not occurred to you, my poor puffed-up popinjay, that there might be an excellent reason why the headmaster of Hogwarts is not confiding every tiny detail of his plans to you? Have you never paused, while feeling hard-done-by, to note that following Dumbledore's orders has never yet led you into harm? No. No, like all young people, you are quite sure that you alone feel and think, you alone recognize danger... </blockquote>
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<span style="background-color: #eeeeee; color: #181818; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><b><i>George: </i></b>Hello, Harry. We thought we heard your dulcet tones.</span></blockquote>
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<i style="font-weight: bold;">Ron: </i>One person can't feel all that at once, they'd explode. </blockquote>
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<i style="font-weight: bold;">Hermione: </i>Just because you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have! </blockquote>
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<span style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><b><i>Harry: </i></b>I DON'T CARE! I'VE HAD ENOUGH, I'VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON'T CARE ANYMORE! </span></blockquote>
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<span style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><b><i>Dumbledore: </i></b>You do care. You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>It's Hard Being Famous</b></span></div>
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To keep from crying or breaking something, I tried to laugh every time someone thinks Harry is crazy or lying. After a while I started getting a little light-headed from the effort. Good thing I didn't make it a drinking game. </div>
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I'm very torn between empathizing with Harry and wanting to smack him upside the head. He can be such a dunce. Drama queen supreme. But at the same time, I don't blame him for being frustrated. I get it. Yes, he's a complete moron when it comes to girls and he always takes out his anger on the wrong people. His temper is right on the surface at <i>all times </i>and he's pigheaded and stubborn. But I can't deny that this year is just one giant suck fest. Reading this book I'm constantly flip-flopping from championing Harry and wanting to cheer on his team, to echoing Phineas Nigellus like, THIS IS WHY KIDS BE DUMB.<br />
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I had to take a break to do some some serious yoga after Harry's court hearing in the beginning because I was so tensed up during that entire chapter. Fudge is so infuriating, I can't even. In truth, this whole book is comically terrible. Like those movies that are made to be stressful, like Due Date or One Fine Day. I hate those. This is Harry's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. He saw Voldemort return, but is then forced to endure an entire summer with <i>zero </i>information about it. No one will tell him anything, and no one even believes his story in the first place. Not even his friends at Hogwarts, like Seamus (and his no-good mother). People straight-up stare, point and whisper. Rude. </div>
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Dumbledore takes a very different approach, choosing to absolutely avoid Harry at all costs. No help, no guidance, no communication. And listen - I'm a big supporter of Dumbledore. I really am. I think he's boss, and I want him to always be right. But I think he messed up here. I know he was busy working things out in his own way, but Harry deserved a little more from him. It wouldn't have taken a whole lot. It's a small consolation that he admits this in the end.<br />
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With Dumbledore giving him the silent treatment and Hagrid mysteriously missing, Harry's left needing a new teacher friend - so he's gifted Dolores Stubby-Fingers Umbridge. <i>Hem, hem. </i>She uses him as a carving station for her creepy-as-crap blood-sucking quill. How is that not a dark magic item? How does she justify using this? She also definitely attempts to use an Unforgivable Curse on a student by the end. Like. What? Oh, and don't forget, Harry is also banned from Quidditch <i>for life. </i>And his first real crush happens to be still tragically confused and in love with her dead boyfriend, who died beside/because of Harry. (Ugh, Cho).</div>
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The good news is that Harry has a special mind-bond with Voldemort, and is able to save Mr. Weasley's life by warning the others after having a vivid snake's-eye view of the near-fatal attack. (Shocking twist: it takes a while for anyone to believe him about this. Quick, take another shot). But that mind-bond is kind of a beezy, and undoubtedly dangerous, so he's forced into anti-Voldy lessons with his other bestie, Severus Snape. Those lessons go <i>so well </i>that he sees another mind-bonding vision of Sirius being tortured, goes to save him, realizes it was all a trap (but don't worry because Sirius comes to save Harry from trying to save him), and then Sirius <i>actually dies </i>because of it.<i> </i>He gets tangled up in a flood of whispering silk and then he dies because...well. I don't actually know. It's very vague. I think he dies because of the crappy thread count? We've all been there. </div>
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Ok, so good luck ever being happy again, Harry. This book is your personal pocket dementor. Mine, too.</div>
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I kept cringing throughout this book, because I felt like every time Sirius was present or mentioned, the text was pointing directly to his death. It gave me this dark heaviness in my chest. It's so easy to see it now that I know it's coming. Sirius is obviously depressed, and is continuously goaded and stung by comments and instructions from Dumbledore, Snape, Harry, the Weasleys...he's so lonely and dejected. Harry misses multiple chances to speak with him, he has things he wants to say but doesn't, he feels a strange foreboding about telling him goodbye...ugh. Don't go, Sirius. Please don't go. Stay with us and keep on singing <i>God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs. </i><br />
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Rowling fully explores Harry's grief in the wake of Sirius' death, which is both cathartic and <i>the worst</i>. I spent the rest of the series waiting for Sirius to come back from that freaking veil. Harry's denial was <i>my </i>denial. His hope, his countless disappointments as he runs out of options for how Sirius could still be with him somehow. He can't accept it, and as a reader, neither could I. It's cruel.<br />
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Knowing that Harry had that two-way mirror to talk to Sirius the whole time makes me crazy. CRAZY. He could have talked to him at any time, known that he was safe. Instead of taking the word of a deranged house elf. I'm also pretty sure I already told Harry to <i>always listen to Hermione. </i>She's always right, and she knew something was fishy about that vision. (Ok, and she also advised everyone to be nicer to Kreacher.) Why be so dumb, Harry? Why.</div>
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Anyone who knows me well (and also a collection of total strangers) knows that Sirius is <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2014/07/the-best-of-sirius-black.html" target="_blank">my favorite Harry Potter character of all time</a>. I haven't read this book since I first read it as a teenager and cried myself to sleep after Sirius died. I'm not sure why I felt such a connection to him then, but it's still there. Sirius and Lupin both represent something very important for Harry...they're walking connections to his parents, especially his dad. They're guardians, father figures. Reading it this time around, I cried for Lupin just as much as I did for Harry. I wanted to read more about him in this book. 15 years ago, he woke up one morning to find that all of his closest friends were either dead or imprisoned. He is given the great gift of discovering the truth and reconciling with Sirius, only to witness his death less than 2 years later. The way that Rowling layers the story, you can truly grieve for the young men they used to be... the best friends who lost so very much - of whom Lupin is now the lone survivor.<br />
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<i>Aside:</i></div>
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There are some other pretty prime pieces of foreshadowing in this book. While they're cleaning Grimmauld Place, it's briefly mentioned that they find a "gold locket that none of them can open". <i>Hmmm. </i>The first time Harry sees Dumbledore following his vision of Mr. Weasley being attacked, Dumbles seems to have some kind of epiphany when Harry tells him he saw the vision through the eyes of Voldemort's snake. He pulls out one of his odd devices and says, "Naturally, naturally...but in essence divided?" <i>He knows everything. </i>He and Hermione need to co-lead the Order.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Occlumency and Other Frustrations</b></span></div>
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It's still rather baffling to me that Dumbledore would allow Snape to instruct Harry in something so vital without any supervision or follow-up. I understand that he trusts Snape, but does he honestly think he's fair and mature when it comes to Harry? Snape is straight-up messed up, ya'll. I must confess, reluctantly, that he <i>does </i>seem to be trying to help Harry in the beginning - the problem is that he's a jerk, and he takes every opportunity to hurt Harry in the process of that learning. Everyone and their mother knows that Snape hates Harry and does his best to make his life miserable. And visa versa. Of <i>course </i>this training failed. </div>
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The information we gather from their time together is kind of a letdown, but it's not surprising. James <i>was</i> arrogant. Sirius <i>was </i>reckless and patronizing, and in a lot of ways, he still is. 12 years in Azkaban may have delayed his social maturity a tad. Not sure what Snape's excuse is. I'm about as far from the Snape Fan Club as I can possibly be, but I do have to say that his worst memory makes me cringe - and I'll admit that I understand why Snape and Sirius still hate each other. I get it. Those kind of grudges are hard to snuff out. Snape was bullied - it's true. But I stand by the fact that this grudge has absolutely nothing to do with Harry. We could go back and forth over who was more rotten as a teenager, but there has been an entire wizarding war in between then and now. Get over it, man. James is dead. Insulting him and telling his teenage son, who never even knew him, how awful he was doesn't really accomplish anything for anyone.<br />
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The fact that the memory bothers Harry so much tells us a lot. Harry isn't his dad. It's a shame that Snape never bothers to find out what kind of person Harry is going to be. I'm so glad Harry had the chance (thanks to Ginny - <i>the thing about growing up with Fred and George is that you sort of start thinking anything's possible if you've got enough nerve</i>) to speak with Lupin and Sirius about his dad. They have this wonderful moment of trying to explain, and own up to, their behavior as boys. I wanted more moments like this. I think it would have been quite natural for the three of them to spend time talking about James at length. As it is, we really only get this one small floo-powder conversation. As they say, James was a git but he grew out of it. His head deflated a bit and Lily <i>did </i>fall in love with him, and the true legacy of James is that he was a good man, a loyal friend, and he died protecting his family. </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Just Deserts</b></span></div>
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Things that make this book bearable: Umbridge being dragged into the Forbidden Forest by centaurs (half-breeds she fears and despises, oh justice). Fred and George leaving school in mayhem and fireworks, and Peeves <i>saluting them </i>in farewell. Dumbledore's Army. Every time someone tells Zacharias Smith to shut up. When Ginny says, "Well, that was a bit stupid of you, seeing as you don't know anyone but me who's been possessed by You-Know-You, and I can tell you how it feels" (and her burgeoning boldness in general). Neville's improvement and bravery. Luna Lovegood. When McGonagall tells Harry to have a biscuit. Rita Skeeter being blackmailed and bossed around by Hermione. The Quibbler. Nymphadora Tonks. This is the book that really brings the girl power. It's where I think people begin to have the greatest disadvantage by not reading the books - there are so many great characters that emerge, especially Ginny, that are barely skimmed in the movies.<br />
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It's satisfying at the end to finally get some answers from Dumbledore, even though his recognition that they should've been more honest with Harry comes way too late and at a very high cost. <i>Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young. </i>It's a great line. It's hard to see Dumbledore so vulnerable. I still cry when he admits that the greatest flaw in his plan was growing to care for Harry too much. But what a lesson to learn. Putting the truth above someone's temporary happiness is something we all struggle with, I think.<br />
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The best moment of the book, really, is when Fudge finally has to concede to Dumbledore and stop being a raging moron.<br />
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That about wraps up <i>The Order of the Phoenix. </i>As always, I could continue talking about this for eons! But I'd much rather hear your thoughts. THANK YOU for reading along! <b>Share your thoughts below</b>, but be careful of <b>spoilers </b>if it's your first time reading through this series, because there are bound to be a few. If you have read them/seen them before, please try to only respond regarding plot points from this book and avoid series-wide spoilers. </div>
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I'm not sure when the next review will be up, but I'll make sure to announce it in <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/788679417847372/" target="_blank">The Harry Potter Book Club page</a>! </div>
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<i>Half-Blood Prince </i>is such a great book, and I can't wait to reread it. I think by the time the last few books of the series came out I devoured them a little too quickly...a lot of the details are hazy. I look forward to ranting about it with you all soon. Until then...</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08297409342434943537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1863011647706940039.post-73267662461960759212015-10-29T11:13:00.001-07:002015-10-29T11:15:33.865-07:0031 weeks {frocktober, days 27-28}<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Remixes:<br />Outfit 1: <i>Dress <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2013/02/leopard-is-lifestyle.html" target="_blank">1</a>, <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2013/06/creative-layering-outfit-4.html" target="_blank">2</a>, <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2013/06/dress-to-vest-outfit-9.html" target="_blank">3</a>, <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2013/02/all-kings-horses.html" target="_blank">4</a>, <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2013/10/decorative-cardigans.html" target="_blank">5</a>, <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2014/10/weekend-frocks-frocktober-day-1011.html" target="_blank">6</a></i><br />Outfit 2: <i><a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2014/10/simple-sunday-frocktober-day-12.html" target="_blank">Dress</a> / <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2013/10/a-little-bit-of-purple-little-bit-of.html" target="_blank">Cardigan</a></i></div>
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I don't have a lot to say this morning, except that WE'RE GOING TO NORTH CAROLINA TONIGHT! Technically we're getting on a <i>plane </i>tonight - we're flying overnight on a red eye. So we won't really be in NC until tomorrow. BUT the excitement remains and I can hardly stand it! This work day is dragging by. Wishing I could take a nap and sleep some of that time away. I'm really on board with <a href="http://nypost.com/2015/09/24/nap-desks-exist-and-now-you-never-have-to-leave-the-office/" target="_blank">that nap desk idea</a>. </div>
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It's almost as if Arizona knows that we're leaving, and is trying to tempt us to stay with the most gorgeous weather this morning. As soon as I stepped outside I just had to pause and take a second to breathe it in. It's a little taste of that North Carolina air. (Sorry, AZ). </div>
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We're also 31 weeks now! He is the most active baby in the world, I'm certain of it. I cannot wait to meet him. He's going to be a hoot. He's constantly wiggling, hiccuping, twirling, dancing, kicking, snuggling. Sometimes he gets right up in my ribs and just nudges me, <i>heyyyyy. </i></div>
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I'll be blogging the last few days of Frocktober a little late, since I won't be blogging while we're gone. I'll just be enjoying the time with our friends and soaking it all in - our last little trip before baby! We have the <i>best </i>Halloween costumes planned (to go along with our previous Disney couple ensembles...), and I also have an incredible story to tell you all about a baby blanket that I found mysteriously sitting on my desk chair this week at work. It's a great one. See you all next week! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-C5CG1-HGcix4I5G_VC3r86hu74VXqqzUW3EskGqXiLlbqNRSWfYjjklIeJjBOYft2YyJLztLqiIHZsgdiMrAnnXlBhj2w8aEFD7vhWO9A3uuRb5Ih-rRkHZ-VtyjKjyELQx4uxGeEhI/s1600/IMG_7850.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-C5CG1-HGcix4I5G_VC3r86hu74VXqqzUW3EskGqXiLlbqNRSWfYjjklIeJjBOYft2YyJLztLqiIHZsgdiMrAnnXlBhj2w8aEFD7vhWO9A3uuRb5Ih-rRkHZ-VtyjKjyELQx4uxGeEhI/s640/IMG_7850.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08297409342434943537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1863011647706940039.post-23547723906893067882015-10-27T10:00:00.000-07:002015-10-29T10:51:37.722-07:00then and now {frocktober, day 26}<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfbdOkhc7E05cxz84jOHrCUbnsxA97d0hLx4sCLwQxjmOzZ9SpNoDPG1xQnSbOjqiQUfuywlVu76XYVAd0162L1jRMCKlfFm2Hu6zMs8xV4CCtMQlTPQbkhFwKXakDbE9YEHevRZt8L_k/s1600/IMG_7844.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfbdOkhc7E05cxz84jOHrCUbnsxA97d0hLx4sCLwQxjmOzZ9SpNoDPG1xQnSbOjqiQUfuywlVu76XYVAd0162L1jRMCKlfFm2Hu6zMs8xV4CCtMQlTPQbkhFwKXakDbE9YEHevRZt8L_k/s640/IMG_7844.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Cat Dress: <i><a href="http://loft.com/" target="_blank">LOFT</a> (old)</i><br />Remixed <i><a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2013/10/frocktober-days.html" target="_blank">here</a>, <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2014/10/weekenders-frocktober-day-171819.html" target="_blank">here</a>, </i>and<i> <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2014/10/the-cat-dress-frocktober-day-27.html" target="_blank">here</a></i></span></td></tr>
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Gosh, I love this cat dress. It's definitely one of my go-to dresses for work. I've worn it a lot, though I've only featured it on the blog a few times. It's incredibly comfortable and can be worn as-is. That may not seem like a big deal, but it is. I have to confess, I have far too many dresses that don't function that easily. Strapless, spaghetti-strap, open-backed. Those are fun to remix and layer, but I only have a few fantastic dresses that need no tampering with - they're perfect and outfit ready on their own. This is one of them.<br />
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I posted a great before/after photo on my Instagram of me wearing this dress earlier in my pregnancy (18 weeks) and then wearing it again yesterday, at 30 (almost 31) weeks. I think I'll retire this dress now until post-pregnancy. Those cats are looking pretty stretched. ;)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://instagram.com/p/9UpZiDCR9X/?taken-by=caitschan" target="_blank">Instagram: 18 weeks // 30 weeks</a></td></tr>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08297409342434943537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1863011647706940039.post-24344925431316825482015-10-26T12:00:00.000-07:002015-10-29T10:29:44.970-07:00what might have been {frocktober, day 25}<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Remixes: <i><a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2013/04/wishing-for-springtime.html" target="_blank">bow top</a> / <a href="https://instagram.com/p/6QUB0kiR55/?tagged=schantababy" target="_blank">dress</a></i></span></td></tr>
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Today, October 26th, was the due date for our first baby. <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2015/02/no-matter-how-small.html" target="_blank">We called her Poppy</a>, because that's the size she was when we lost her. We'll never know if she was a boy or a girl on this side of heaven, but she's still a very intricate part of us. Sometimes, at the oddest and strangest of moments, one of us will turn to the other and just say, <i>I miss Poppy. </i>She changed the way we experience sorrow, our love for each other, our marriage, our family. <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2015/10/29-weeks-frocktober-day-14.html" target="_blank">I've mentioned before</a> how I have been dreading this day. Now that it's here, I feel a very solid sense of painful gratitude. It's a relief to be here in a way, to be facing this dreaded milestone and still be intact. </div>
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Carrying our son William has been such a complex variety of layered joy, fear, hope, sorrow, excitement, love. It's <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2015/06/the-dichotomy-of-tears.html" target="_blank">the dichotomy of tears</a>. My husband showed up to work this morning with a bouquet of wildflowers, some soil, and a packet of poppy seeds for us to plant a garden of poppies together in our new home. I honestly can't think of anything more wonderful than having a garden of poppies. It also makes me want to cry. He also brought a card that he had written both to me and to Poppy. It was perfect and it broke my heart. We cried together in the car, and I have never felt so grateful to have him by my side. His heart is a privilege to know. He loves our babies. He is the best dad. I cannot wait to see him in action when William comes into the world. </div>
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What might have been<i> </i>is a cruel daydream. But today is not a day to dwell on tragedy or loss, but to draw closer together and bask in the happiness she brought to our lives in such a short time. I like to say her life was vibrant. It was. It still is. We spend our time now dreaming of our future garden, and loving on both of our babies with all our might. </div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08297409342434943537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1863011647706940039.post-79610256326875430902015-10-25T10:00:00.000-07:002015-10-29T10:41:54.585-07:00take a class {frocktober, days 22-24}<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzhG_zSop1c_z9pAc4Qw13MPKL7OPlMWUpHCA7r_IVW988hRjO9Za4o8i3jt1srQmK352vSRnoCAzku0kQXUHprCCDxv0Klwf40SoStNFFpi4_5WheGXvITBYnRFclZuNeFrJ1Dx3NXhU/s1600/IMG_7770.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzhG_zSop1c_z9pAc4Qw13MPKL7OPlMWUpHCA7r_IVW988hRjO9Za4o8i3jt1srQmK352vSRnoCAzku0kQXUHprCCDxv0Klwf40SoStNFFpi4_5WheGXvITBYnRFclZuNeFrJ1Dx3NXhU/s640/IMG_7770.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
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I can't believe we're already heading in to the last week of October/Frocktober. This challenge has been pretty fun and comfortable for me to accomplish, since wearing dresses tend to be the easiest and most flattering choice for me anyway. I've tried to still push my creative boundaries and come up with outfits that are interesting. A very special shout out to maternity leggings, which have made my life so very swell. Even so, I'm <i>really </i>looking forward to donning my maternity denim and some of the cute tops I've been waiting to wear. </div>
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For day 22, I wore <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2014/10/birthday-frocktober-day-45.html" target="_blank">this black confetti-print dress</a> with a stretchy high-low skirt belted on top of it. On day 23 I wore probably my most-worn dress ever. I think I say that a lot. I definitely have my favorites. I got it for $5 years ago on <a href="http://www.zulily.com/invite/cschanaker466" target="_blank">Zulily</a>, and I couldn't help trying to sneak it over my baby bump. It was a tight fit, but it worked. I found the crochet cardigan at Forever 21 last month for our <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2015/10/maternity-photoshoot.html" target="_blank">maternity photoshoot</a>. Day 24 was classic Saturday comfort - stretchy bodycon dress, leggings, oversized sweater. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Remixes:<br />Outfit 1: <i><a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2014/10/birthday-frocktober-day-45.html" target="_blank">Dress</a> / <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2015/10/sleepy-says-frocktober-days-17-20.html" target="_blank">Cardigan</a></i><br />Outfit 2: <i>Dress <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2013/01/layering-lace-and-dresses.html" target="_blank">1</a>, <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2013/04/mixing-prints-dress-in-dress.html" target="_blank">2</a>, <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2013/02/foggy-friday.html" target="_blank">3</a>, <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2014/02/just-call-me-whimsy.html" target="_blank">4</a>, <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2013/10/frocktober-days.html" target="_blank">5</a> / <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2015/10/maternity-photoshoot.html" target="_blank">Cardigan</a></i><br />Outfit 3: <i>Sweater <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2014/10/weekend-frocks-frocktober-day-1011.html" target="_blank">1</a>, <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2014/11/the-end-frocktober-day-31.html" target="_blank">2</a></i></span></td></tr>
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We had our all-day birthing class on Saturday, which was incredibly enlightening. I could make a lot of jokes about it but I'm actually really, really glad we went. If you're on the fence about whether to take a class or not, I'd really encourage you to. It was a great overview of what to expect, and I think it gave my husband some really great information on what his role will be and what kinds of things I'll be going through, step by step. I think our approach before was kind of like, we'll figure it out - let's just not think about it until we have to. But being informed is definitely the way to go. It dispels fear and helps equip you with the tools you need to have that <i>mind over matter </i>perspective. It was a great day spent together learning and looking forward to the arrival of our baby boy! It's coming up so soon.</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08297409342434943537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1863011647706940039.post-56837758203941081132015-10-23T12:56:00.002-07:002015-10-23T16:53:13.056-07:0030 weeks {frocktober, day 21}<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The Arizona mornings dip into the 60's and I'm suddenly all about the scarves, sweaters and boots. I'm a <i>little bit </i>anxious for our trip to North Carolina next week, where I'll actually be able to comfortably add tights to this same ensemble! Maybe even a beanie. I can practically feel the chill against my cheeks, and it absolutely cannot come soon enough.<br />
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On Wednesday we hit the 30 week mark. This milestone hit me square in the teeth because I am <i>so </i>not ready to be done with pregnancy yet. I know I still have 10 weeks to go, but that suddenly seems like such a short amount of time. I actually get teary-eyed thinking about it. How weird is that? Even with all of the struggles, pains, and nuisances of pregnancy, I ardently adore having my little boy with me. He's a part of me now in a way that he'll never be again. I know the next part is the good stuff... but I find myself feeling so protective of this time that he and I have shared together. I have him all to myself. It's this strange kind of selfishness that makes me want to cry about having to share him with the world soon.<br />
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I think before actually experiencing pregnancy for myself, the overall message I received was that it's a fairly negative experience. From Facebook posts, personal conversations, blogs, etc. Horror stories and the <i>oh just you waits </i>were the majority. To an extent, they still are. Not to say that those horror stories aren't real, because they definitely are - there are women out there who could rival Bella Swan for <i>worst pregnancy ever. </i>I think I have been very lucky, and obviously everything I say is coming from my own experience. I still think it's a shame that we often allow the complaints to permeate the conversation. Maybe we really do just struggle with the changes in our bodies (say goodbye to your figure <i>forever, </i>because you are doomed, lady!) and feel the need to share those things in solidarity, but I want to take a moment to truly appreciate what the last 30 weeks have meant to me. Maybe it's just <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2015/09/pregnancy-brain.html" target="_blank">the pregnancy brain</a> talking, but these are the things I'm going to miss.<br />
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I'm going to miss feeling his twirling movements every day, wondering what he's up to and what expressions his face might be making. I'm going to miss the time I get to spend with him that no one else can have (including his 2am dance sessions). I'm going to miss going to bed with my arms wrapped around him, knowing he's safe and protected in there. I'll miss this phase of mystery and dreaming - what will he look like? What will he be like? Soon we'll know for certain, but this time of sweet anticipation is precious all on its own. I'll miss maternity clothes and bump pictures. Feeling the least body conscious I've ever felt, because this belly is supposed to hang out, thankyouverymuch. I'll miss the way Dusty and I spend every night holding hands over my belly, feeling our little one move and talking to him about the future. I won't lie, I'll miss being taken care of. The sweet words, the excitement, the tenderness.<br />
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I know that pregnancy can be (and is) a very scary thing for many people, but I have loved every bit of it. Even the sickness (he's healthy and growing!), even the fatigue (all day naps? yes please), even the weird and absurd body changes. And I do mean absurd. I have cried, I have been surprised, I have had to adjust. But lemme tell you, my body is a boss. We just took our first class ("The Art of Breastfeeding") on Wednesday and I think I can say that <i>boobs are boss. </i>Put that on a t-shirt and wear it around town. A woman's body is insane, it's all sci-fi up in here. God is a miraculous creator, isn't He? That's what pregnancy really is. He's just showing off. I'm proud to be a warrior of His handiwork. It's truly extraordinary. Especially because this process is the precursor to welcoming our son into the world. A real human. He is and always will be a part of me, a part of my husband and I. I will cherish this time forever. 30 weeks and counting. Tick, tock.<br />
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(I will recant all of these things in 10 weeks when I begin bribing doctors to get this child outta me pronto).<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08297409342434943537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1863011647706940039.post-3044011431653665492015-10-22T22:44:00.000-07:002015-10-22T22:44:00.998-07:00sleepy says {frocktober, days 17-20}<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I think both my husband and I have come to realize that we're completely at the mercy of fatigue these days. We've spent every weekend working tirelessly on getting our house ready to move in, and as a result, we feel drained at the start of every week. The week days go by in a heavy blur. I've gone back to my coffee addiction, surprise surprise! Starbucks detours have been frequent. Every evening after work, we're torn between our desire to be productive and our even weightier desire to try to catch up on the rest we've been missing out on each weekend. The sleepiness usually wins out. We're pajama-clad before dinner and in bed as soon as we can manage it.</div>
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Thus, my lack of daily blogging. Every night I make a mental note to take and edit photos so I can post them the next morning - but this week they've piled up on me once again. I can't believe it's already Friday again. I honestly feel like I didn't even live through this week. It was all a dream. Someone else went to work for me and I stayed back home inside my own head, content to exist in a haze. </div>
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In 1 week we'll be heading to North Carolina for our Fall getaway to see our besties from law school, and having that to look forward is <i>so delightful. </i>I hope you all have had a much mightier week, full of energy and inspiration. Enjoy this past week of Frocktober outfits below (remix info is at the end of the post). </div>
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<i>Remixes</i>:</div>
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Outfit 1: <i><a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2013/12/tick-tock.html" target="_blank">Dress</a> | </i>Outfit 2: <i><a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2014/10/more-color-please-frocktober-day-23.html" target="_blank">Green Cardigan</a></i></div>
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Outfit 3: <i><a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2014/08/soulhome.html" target="_blank">Purple Cardigan</a></i></div>
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Outfit 4: <i>Dress <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2013/10/frocktober-days.html" target="_blank">1</a>, <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2013/07/dalmatian-plantation.html" target="_blank">2</a>, <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2013/04/5to5-weekday-remix.html" target="_blank">3</a> // Denim <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2014/10/craving-lazy-frocktober-day-2425.html" target="_blank">1</a>, <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2014/08/miss-tabby.html" target="_blank">2</a></i></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08297409342434943537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1863011647706940039.post-30711080776199027542015-10-19T14:40:00.002-07:002015-10-21T11:47:33.719-07:00maternity photoshoot!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My husband surprised me with a little maternity photoshoot for my birthday this year, which was the perfect gift. He contacted our wedding photographer (see our <a href="http://riliedeephotography.blogspot.com/2011/01/dusty-and-caitlin-wedding.html" target="_blank">wedding</a> and <a href="http://riliedeephotography.blogspot.com/2011/01/trash-dress.html" target="_blank">trash the dress</a> photos!), Rilie of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Rilie-Dee-Photography-144291328935127/" target="_blank">Rilie Dee Photography</a>. It was the perfect choice to reunite with her for these maternity photos. She has captured so many precious moments for us! Our wedding color was that wonderful shamrock green, so I had to incorporate it here as well. We also threw in some Harry Potter books and a few subtle nods to adventure and travel, which will undoubtedly be incorporated into Will's nursery (and life). This is such a fantastic time in our lives, and I'm so thankful to have these photos of Dustin and I to commemorate it. I'm sure these will be the first pictures we'll print and frame for our new home, followed shortly by photos of a wriggly baby boy. Enjoy a few of my favorite shots from our photoshoot, all thanks to Rilie!</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08297409342434943537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1863011647706940039.post-72935010859902827452015-10-18T08:00:00.000-07:002015-10-22T22:45:06.128-07:00raining unicorns {frocktober, day 16}<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Dress (<i>remixed <a href="http://voguishatbest.blogspot.com/2015/10/working-weekend-frocktober-day-2-3.html" target="_blank">here</a>, <a href="https://instagram.com/p/8ONhvACR3i/?taken-by=caitschan" target="_blank">here</a></i>): <i>borrowed</i><br />Cardigan: <i><a href="http://shopruche.com/" target="_blank">Ruche</a>, </i>Leggings (<i><a href="http://www.pinkblushmaternity.com/p-4282-black-maternity-leggings.aspx" target="_blank">shop!</a></i>): <i><a href="http://pinkblushmaternity.com/" target="_blank">Pink Blush Maternity</a></i></span></td></tr>
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The weather has been gorgeous these past few days. It's a miracle. Cloudy skies, gorgeous sunsets, cool breezes. It's not quite Fall, but I'll definitely take the rain.</div>
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This is probably one of my favorite Frocktober outfits to date, and it's absolutely because of the unicorn cardigan. I bought this spectacular beauty while living in Virginia, and I have the fondest memories of wearing it while sitting in my favorite coffee shop downtown and reading great books and drinking lavender lattes. One of the last times I wore it was on <a href="https://instagram.com/p/ltNITviR_r/" target="_blank">St. Patrick's Day in Italy</a>. It's one of those articles of clothing that is inherently magical (because unicorns), but is made even more fantastic by the many memories embedded in its thread from years of use.</div>
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This is the first time I've ever worn it tied in the front, although it seems to have been made for it. It's perfectly shaped for a little knot-tying. One of my favorite things about coming up with maternity style ideas is playing with different silhouettes - ones I'd never have wanted to achieve or accentuate before. It's sometimes an odd feeling to try and outline/highlight my stomach, which was always one of the areas that made me the most self-conscious. Now it's lovingly on display, held and cinched by unicorns. </div>
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