Little Miracles

(Something happened to Blogger and this post was lost. Posting again - sorry for the repeat)

Spring is wrapping up and 90-degree weather has returned to Austin. The daily smell of sunscreen and baby sweat take me back to when Stella began to walk, around her first birthday last summer. I cry at the drop of a hat these days over the little things that are so precious to me right now: the way she sings Rock-a-bye Baby, the way she refers to herself in the third person, the marathon nursing sessions that ensue several times a day and all night. I almost go into shock when I realize it will end. I breathe literal sighs of relief that I made the choice to be close to her all day and all night.

There are some moments in my past that I look upon and tremble when I think about how close I came to "blowing it". How close I came to taking a turn that would have taken me drastically far from this place. Most of the time I am overly aware of how insignificant my little daily things and decisions can seem in the "big picture". How some of the things over which we lament can be so quickly forgotten or unimportant in the grand scheme of things. But then I remember how each of these little things has led me to this very X upon which I stand. Here. My life that I made. My home. I could never envision such an existence before (who could), not that my life is so interesting. But motherhood is my joyride. I have quieted the all-too surrounding drama and busyness that used to be my everyday, and now peace has become my sanctity, my church.

Losing my mother made time stop. Having a baby made time stop. Even though she keeps growing and the seasons and people change around me, I feel that I have finally stopped long enough to love this place. To love my family. To love myself. I am entertained to drink hot tea with my family at night on a warm evening on the screened-in porch, to garden every morning - child by my side. I am all too aware of how time and circumstances can swallow these moments up and then they're gone forever. I'm guarding the quiet with my life. I'm blocking drama with a shield. It's waiting and threatening to swallow up the memories I want to make. But I'm fighting. Quietly.

Having little guidance as a young person can often take you in one of two directions. But providing your own child with the stability, patience and love that was lacking in your own life can both erase and encapsulate the pain of a lost childhood. Strange how that is. Strange how raising and protecting her (in the way that was a mystery to me as a child) can bring up constant turmoil in my body and mind. It brings me so much joy to parent her (in this way) and so much pain, too. A few days ago, I found my brain suddenly fixated on a memory of my childhood that I didn't even know I had - I have so very few memories of it. Clear as day, I could see the bedroom set and bedding in my bedroom from when I was probably around 7...? A house we couldn't afford. A house we didn't live in long. A house we lost when my brother and I had a nearly fatal car accident and had no insurance. We lost a lot that we never really had in the first place. But even more so, my parents' marriage ended after that. The scars on my face from the accident are reminders of it all.

But I digress.

The white canopy bed so innocently sitting, waiting for a girl equally innocent - not a girl growing up too fast. Two matching night stands and a dresser. A small make-up table. A dry-erase board for playing "school" and "teacher". I have no memory of playing or being played with in that room. But the sheets - I remember those beautiful linens, a proud purchase of my mother's, I'm sure. I just did this myself - indulged in buying pretty bedding for my daughter in case it's my last chance to ever do it again (for a baby girl or otherwise). And so as I had this memory, I began channeling my young mother shopping wherever she must have gone to get these sheets during this funny time in the 80's (a major recession, an oil boom, a failing marriage, the Texas plains). Did she obsess the way I recently did over if they would match the curtains? Or if they were "baby" enough? Girl enough?

I never thought I would spend such time on something like this when there are so many other things...but suddenly it was important. And suddenly I knew why. Yes, it's a reach back into my childhood that I'm possibly trying to achieve for myself. Or perhaps I'm trying to recreate something for my daughter that I remember as being positive. Maybe those things. But mostly, because I am her. Because I am my mother in so many ways. When did this happen? When wasn't it happening is probably the more relevant question. Time and again I've mulled over my daughter's room decor since her birth (instead of just buying what I like) because of money. So I thought.

And so one purchase at a time, slowly but surely, my daughter has a sweet girly space that we play in...together. One that makes me feel complete in a strange way. One that made me realize, yet again, that my mother did things that I would never understand or remember until I was a mother. Does she sleep in there? No. Will she ever? Who even knows. But maybe she'll remember more than just the sheets.

Valentine's Day Catch-up

I am a hopeless romantic when it comes to "Hallmark" holidays. I sometimes resent that they have this reputation because I see some of these holidays as a cultural phenomenon that isn't necessarily rooted in consumerism. Yes, there are some stereotypical expectations that seem to accompany some of these holidays, expectations that sometimes steal the focus. But in this "new" day in America where we often even forget to eat, it seems necessary to dedicate an entire day to remember your mother, or to be romantic. I like that many people have rebelled against the consumer part of it and declare their own traditions (that's almost typically American in and of itself). But as unconventional as I claim to be in some parts of my life, Valentine's Day is one place where I am straight-up textbook. I love flowers, surprises and chocolates. And now that my daughter is with us, I like to romance her, too (romancing my man goes without saying).

We had a fun fondue dinner at home.

She got a sweet little apron for her long afternoons spent in the kitchen with Mommy.

And we ended her second Valentine's Day as intimately as possible.

DC Trip Part Two - DC

Someone I know loves vacation...

Somebody besides me, that is.

I think this is the longest she's ever stayed in one place - at least 3 whole mins.

On to see our good friends - we miss them dearly. Jason is her buddy (and Erik's best friend of 17 years).

Elizabeth has become Stella's best friend (Jason's wife - we went to high school with these guys!).

Elizabeth began knitting recently and is doing a knockout job!

Glorious mornings at the hotel.

Fabulous bedhead.

Elizabeth spent much time in our room playing.

Daddy and Brock take Stella to breakfast at a favorite old haunt.

And they go to the Air and Space Museum.

The view from our room - our old neighborhood...sigh.

I'm always trying to get some sugars out of this girl.

Stella was actually sick for our entire trip back east. This is naked fever-fighting.

And this is post Tylenol.

Beth and Brock come by the hotel for a visit. We miss them in ridiculous amounts.

I got my fill of to-go coffee. That's something I miss most about living there - walking outside and grabbing a cup of coffee for a stroll. Liz brought me one nearly everyday, bless her heart.

Coffee before going to brunch, a must.

Playing with salt, pepper and sugar packets at brunch, a must.

What a beautiful couple!

And a great auntie!

And the best daddy.

And a crappy Bloody Mary! But who cares - we're at brunch!

Moving on to the farmers market where I used to spend every single Sunday morning for years and years.

And then onto "the Circle" (the fountain in Dupont Circle) to baby-chase.

Stella ADORES Beth and Brock.

Like I said, someone I know loves vacation. And great friends.

DC Trip Part I - Cumberland

We went back east for a long visit and for Erik's work. His dad's side is from western Maryland, an intensely beautiful part of this country. The town (Cumberland...actually, Rawlings) is where they live. It's small town/country-living where the neighbors are few and far between and the land is vast. The family all lives within miles of each other making it a pretty tight-knit bunch. Grandma's house has always been center stage where it's typical for people to come and go all the time. One of Erik's uncles (and his wife and kids) now lives with Grandma - he's the one closest to us in age (his small children are Erik's cousins).

Erik with Uncle Robin

Aunt Paula (Robin's wife) and their oldest, Max.

Stella adores these kids.

And they adore her.

They so gently helped her with her Christmas presents.

Max read to Stella a lot.

And then it snowed! A lot...

Snow day! We spent it mostly in our jammies...

...warming up by the fire...

And then it was time to plow...

And go out and play.

Someone let Daddy out of jail for awhile to enjoy the snow.

Mommy shows Stella the phenomenon of actually eating the snow.

We take turns.

Uncle Robin takes his boys sledding.

Many songs about Frosty are sung...again...

...and again. "Oh", Stella thinks, "THAT'S a snowman."

Cousin Andrew braves the snow to come over and give us a late-night personal concert.

There continue to be several snow days full of blocks...

Ping pong with Grandma (and everyone else)...

And much reading.

Grandma decides it's time to drink a bottle of wine that Erik's parents bought when he was an infant for him to drink on his 21rst birthday. No matter that he's in his thirties now - what the hell? So we do it over Skype with his parents (who live in different states...with different partners). Cheers!

Someone is busted in the refrigerator thinking we are distracted with our "vintage" wine.

Max and Moss kindly let her "help" them on the computer.

And they read.

For some reason, many bites and scratches are just not enough.

Cousin Julie takes time out of her busy young life to visit, too.

As does her dad, Uncle Jamie (he is also Andrew's father, the kid playing guitar above).

Linda (Jamie's wife) has come to see the small person that wears big clothes.


I love the family tree on the wall behind me. It's amazing to officially be part of it given that I used to observe it as "Erik's girlfriend" years before.

We miss seeing this side of the family on a more regular basis like we did when we were in DC. But we are so lucky to be able to travel to them. And I am so lucky to be part of them.