On taking away babyhood

{A letter to you both}

 When I was a mama to one, I was really nervous to have a another baby because I was afraid that I would be taking your babyhood away Elle. That I would be stealing pieces of your childhood by trying to split my focus between two children.

Now I feel so different.

For you Brynn, I am your moon. But Elle is your stars. We wake up early in the morning (earlier than Elle that is) and I can tell you are antsy, looking around for that high pitched toddler voice you love so much. You squeal with delight when we go into her room and you both give kisses. And now that you have learned how to crawl, you follow her everywhere. When she is eating in her high chair, you hang out all tangled in the legs underneath.

Now, I feel a little bad for you Elle, that you did not have this older person, wanting to kiss and snuggle you and love on you from sun up till sun down. A sister making sure you were coming anytime we leave the house and who runs full speed to your room when you are up from your nap just to see you. Siblings are a gift. I am so lucky you have each other.

B in a bathing suit + Miss Elle.

Just a two photos:

Brynn in Elle's old swimsuit:


Elle playing in the flowers:

What has happened to motherhood?

{A letter to you both}

Sometimes, I think about about a mother hundreds of thousands (if not millions) of years ago. She was perhaps living in a cave or the woods. She lives with her family group. While pregnant, I am sure much is still expected of her. She has no body pillow or utrasound appointments. Just the reminder of the life that grows inside of her by the constant drumming of tiny feet. She gives birth to a baby with no medications. Can she yell or will that attract predators? Does her mother help her? She has no lactation consultant, no pump, no pacifier, no diapers. Is she expected to keep her baby quiet? How involved is the father? Does he help in the middle of the night? What does she feel? I assume the same animalistic urge to protect her child that I do. But does she feel pressure to "parent"? Or is she merely trying to keep her infant alive in the jungle?

With a toddler, she must worry about her child becoming prey or toddling right off a cliff or into a river. She has to make sure her child is warm enough. She has to make sure her child gets enough to eat. Does her child have tantrums? How does she discipline her child? What does motherhood mean to her? Perhaps it is simply a duty that she does. Perhaps her heart swells the way mine does when she watches her baby sleeping peacefully. But I guarantee she has to let go a lot sooner than I do. She cannot afford to be a shadow, a constant protector for very long.

Sometimes, I worry I that I worry too much. As a mother in this age, I am bombarded with dangers than could steal my babies away from me. Kidnappers, child killers, car accidents, buses, stairs, electrical outlets, drowning, SIDS, cancer, high fever, illness plus a million other ways harm could come to either of you (just tonight I read about the 21 month old who fell and drown in the washing machine-the washing machine). It feels smothering. Like I will never be able to deflect all the harm. Studies have shown the world is actually safer now than it has ever been. But I guarantee if you were able to interview me and the cave dwelling mother I would be infinitely more stressed about the safety of my children but also about the people my child will be become. I would be more stressed about being a mother than a mother who living in the wilderness so long ago.

There are so many ways I can fail.

I love you both so much. It is almost debilitating. For example, tonight, Elle I was in the backyard and I needed to run into the house for one second to grab something just inside the door. But this image popped into my head of some random man reaching over our fence and grabbing you in those 10 seconds and you were gone. And I did not go inside.

The craziest part is that I am one of the most laid back moms that I know. I question how I can raise you both to be strong, independent women if even schools scare me (school shootings, bullying, molesting teachers or peers). Sometimes, I just want to shut it all out and raise you both by my instincts like the ancient mother. I know my instincts are good. I know this is the most important job I will ever do but I get so many messages every day on how I SHOULD do it. How you both SHOULD eat, sleep, stay healthy, behave, relate to others. It is honestly exhausting. And I have never even read a parenting book.

So yes, I love you both so much that sometimes watching you both, it settles over me like a warm blanket and I want to stop that moment and live there forever. But I am going to try my best to stick to my instincts. Because you are my children and while you are little, I know what is best for you, as the answers are inside of me. Still hiding there from so long ago. But I still do not know how to block the fear. Losing either of you is the biggest and worst thing I can imagine. I don't know how I could make it go away. Or how I lessen it. It is like flying for me: I know the statistics but they do not keep me from crying silent, awkward tears on take off and gripping the arm rest with every bump. I just don't know how not to be fearful when it comes to my two, precious sweet babies.

This month.

{A letter to you both}

This has been a really hard month.

Your dad and I are dreamers. We have had dreams since we were 17 years old. They were to buy a beautiful house and build a life filled with babies, cozy blankets and laughing. We bought our current house 5 years ago. We were 22 and 23 and it was at the height of the real estate bubble (I am not even sure what they will call this time when you are older, maybe the time all the people went crazy in the head I guess). Our house is lovely. Two bedrooms, hardwoods floors, two brand new bathrooms, a new dining nook and covered porch (all the work done by your proud papa- it was not very nice when we bought it). But we don't love this area. In fact, we pretty much hate it. We bought here because it was where we could afford. We thought the crime would get better, the schools would improve, the ruins that are the local neighborhoods would somehow be filled with prideful owners who would restore them to craftsman glory.

None of that happened.

Our house got nicer and nicer with all the work we put in and this town has crumbled around us. We have had two police chases end in our yard. This year we have had a serial killer AND a cop killer. The schools are worse. This is no place to raise two sweet baby girls.

But we owe more on this house than it is worth. Meaning to sell, we will have to pay the bank (which we will do with our money we were saving for a new house + help from my parents to avoid shortsale or foreclosure). This house has been a 5 year project, a refuge in a broken town. But It feels as though all our work has been for naught. That our pride is silly and at the end of the day, a waste.

We have built memories here. Elle, this carpet is where you dug your toes in to take those first wobbly steps. That chair in the corner is where I rocked a sleeping, tiny Brynn into the wee hours of the day, watching the pink sun rise against the cloudless sky. This porch is where your father and I, just married, toasted our good, lucky life.

No matter what, now is the time to go. We are going to sell. And we are going to pay. But it is worth it to feel safe again. Still, hearing the price of what our little cottage is now worth, caused us both to grieve a bit. Grieve for dreams we have to put on hold, for a life imagined that is now a life slamming hard into the realities of a bad economy.

A few days after this news, I was driving too the gym. Our state cannot yet decide what season it wants to be in. I was on the freeway going 60mph and my car suddenly began to slide in a random freezing rain storm. I pride myself on knowing how to drive in the snow and ice. I have been driving up to the mountains since I was 16 but never had I experienced such a complete lack of control. My car slide sideways and slammed into the center median at 55pmh and bounced me 180 degrees until I was facing backwards on the freeway. There were 5 other accidents all around me, one guy flipping his car completely over in the ditch. I sat with shaking hands thanking the universe that the girls were not in the car.

Our car was totaled in the accident but we are choosing to get it fixed since we paid it off two months ago. I remember coming home and folding myself into a small ball in the corner of the bathroom, feeling like everything was slipping out of our hands. We have tried so hard to do it right. To be responsible. To be adults. But this month I feel like a child, wanting someone to wrap me into their arms and tell me that we will somehow find a way out.

Of course because these things happen in threes, your dad's truck broke down 4 days later. We both just kind of walked around with our mouths hanging open.

But this all really comes down to money and not having enough of it to do all the things we want to do. And as far as problems to have, it is by far not the worst kind of problem to have. So we will make it through. We will buy our dream house one day and in that house we will continue dreaming. But for now, we both feel beat.

Thankful for our sweet babies:

7 Months.

{A letter to Brynn}

We little snuggler Brynn. Your favorite thing to do when you wake up is grab my cheeks and try to eat my nose. You are most content with your face smooshed again mine. The closer you can get to me, the better. So I hold you. A lot. :) I am developing some great arm muscles. You, like I have said before, LOVE your sister. Your eyes follow her wherever she goes and you track her high voice. She loves to kiss you and you always try to grab her hair (which she never minds, even though she hates when I mess with her hair). You are just now taking some solid foods. You have made it very clear that you do not want anything do to with purees but you will eat puffs. I kiss your cheeks three thousand times a day.

Being Away.

{A letter to you both}

This weekend was another department dinner for the fire department. This time we rented a cabin and really had a great time. I worry that I do not leave you both enough. When you were little Elle I worked full time for 6 months and then part time until you were 16 months old. So you were used to being away from me. Brynn, my little snuggle bug, you looooovvveee your mama. You are most happy when just snuggled on my chest (much like a newborn despite the fact that you are 7 months old). You don't do very well with other people, even your dad sometimes. It makes me feel a bit like a failure because I want you both to be independent. So I left with a worried heart. But you both did great! I came home and you were happy little campers. And I was a happy little mama.

Here I am with your handsome daddy:


Linking up with Mandy.

Love for little B.

Little B.

What is going on with you lately? A tooth? A belly ache? A want to crawl? Why must you yell at me ALL.DAY.LONG. It is making me a bit batty honestly. I set you down and 15 seconds later- yell, yellll, YELLLLLLLLLL!!!!! (my eardrums explode). I am trying so hard not to get frustrated. I have been careful never to wish you were older or wish you could do more than you can at your age, but I must say I am looking forward to quieter days.

You are such a mamas girl. There is nothing you love better than wraping your legs around me and burying your head in my chest.

It almost makes up for the yelling.

Almost. :)
A pretty of you and then one of you and some friends:





Here you are with some of your baby friends. Addie and Scarlett, beautiful daughters of the lovely Care. And Arlo, brave son of Ashley, being held hostage by so many women.