A DREAM IS A WISH YOUR HEART MAKES

babyjade2008

this photo is old and blurry, but i love it. mostly because it was taken by emet, but also, her eyes. and that runny nose!

I was raised on fairy tales of the Disney variety, never thinking twice that the good people at the House of Mouse weren’t actually the ones responsible for those stories. So, naturally, when I discovered the Brothers Grimm, I was a little miffed that ol’ Walt and his team of animators positively bastardized the complexities of the German folklore.

When Emet was born, one of the sweetest gifts I was given was a complete and unabridged collection of the original Grimm’s Fairy Tales. I suppose the only thing more complete would be an untranslated version, but sprechen sie Deutsch I do not. So, English it was, and oh! The language in those stories is just poetic.

It was a few years later, when I was in training to become a Waldorf teacher, that I learned just how important these particular narratives – and the eloquent language contained therewithin – are to young children. The curriculum of the Early Childhood and the First Grade are based entirely upon classic fairy tales and so it was that I decided my children would not bear witness to the animated movies of my childhood. Also, I’m of the media-free childhood persuasion, so it wasn’t really an issue.

As my children have grown, they have indeed been exposed to their fair share of movies and television shows, albeit far less than the average American child. And yet, purely by coincidence, the Disney movies were left unwatched. A few months ago, we were at a restaurant where each of my big kids were given a coloring page. Emet’s was Sponge Bob, and Jade’s was Belle. And while Mr. Squarepants was instantly recognized by the both of them, neither Emet nor Jade could name the princess or the film from whence she came. I felt a little bit proud and a little bit sad, because truly, I loved those movies. LOVED THEM.

So, when my handsome mister called me into his office a week or so ago to show me a trailer he’d come across of a live-action version of Cinderella due to hit theaters this coming Spring, I rolled my eyes a little because, honestly, how good could it be? Only so good that I cried. Not once, not twice, but three times. Every hair on my body was standing on end, and the flutters in my heart told me I had to share this with my daughter.

I will never forget her eyes as she watched, like saucers they were, filled with stars and fairy dust and all the magic I remember from when I was a little girl. In that moment, I knew exactly what I had to do. Why, read her Ashputtel of course, a tale which she’s heard at least a half dozen times.

When Christmas morning came, there was a small package finished with glittering gold ribbon addressed to the youngest maiden of the house. And when she opened it up, she squealed with delight to find her very own copy of Disney’s Cinderella.

To be honest, I can’t remember the last time I saw that movie. I’m almost positive I was Jade’s age, or thereabouts. But when she and I sat down later Christmas day to watch it together, from the moment the first note of the overture sounded, I was mesmerized. I remembered all the songs, all the funny little things the mice say, all the magic. Sharing this film with my beautiful girl, at an age when she is more than ready to appreciate it purely as entertainment, well, it was perfect.

She and I have a date to the movie theatre this coming March, and we are so excited we can hardly stand it!

SIX

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Half a year old already, and growing at a rather impressive rate, my Roux Huckleberry is one squishy bundle of delicious baby. Ours was a rocky beginning together, and the past few months have been next level difficult, but today, as we celebrate this six month milestone, my tiny guy and I are in a very, very good place.

I wouldn’t say he’s fussy as much as he is particular, though what he loves one minute he might loathe the next, so it’s always an interesting dance through our repertoire to find what is pleasing to the Huckle at any given moment. Sometimes the Ergo is all he wants, and other times he thinks it to be a mechanism of torture. He likes what he likes when he likes it, and that’s that.

But oh how he loves him some boobies. All boobies, all the time, is really all he wants out of life.

The water is most definitely his happy place. We’ve been taking him to swim at the YMCA since he was six weeks old, and just last week he put his own face in the water for the very first time. And then he did it again. And again! I couldn’t believe it. He kicks and splashes and slaps the water, and is instantly soothed by the sound of running water, so much so that even the most epic of meltdowns can be tempered by a trip to the bathroom for a quick listen.

He is steadily collecting new skills to add to his bag of tricks, including blowing raspberries with his tongue and yes, it is the cutest thing you’ll ever see. The teeth that have been causing him discomfort for almost three months have yet to cut through, which means his wide smile is still gloriously gummy. He smiles all the time, even when he cries, and he is starting to laugh with a lot more enthusiasm, especially at his big brother Emet, whom Huckle considers to be the funniest person on the planet.

The love that exists between all three of my children is a precious thing to witness. The way the older two care for the baby absolutely melts my heart. If only they could care for each other the same way! Ah, siblings.

This past week has been a real turning point, for both Roux and me. Well, mostly I made a personal breakthrough to which he immediately responded, resulting in nothing short of a miracle. A real, viable rhythm is emerging, one that includes a much more peaceful and restful night for us both. Thank goodness, really, because I was starting to worry that I wouldn’t be able to get to enjoy his babyhood, but this is better than anything I could have dreamed. It’s a real love affair we’re having, and I’m in heaven.

It may have taken a whole hell of a lot longer than I ever fathomed it could, but my Huckle and I managed to overcome all kinds of adversity to form a bond so sweet and strong, it eclipses any expectations I had of being a mother to someone other than Emet and Jade.

I am a mother of three, and I can’t imagine life any other way.

To you, my tiny guy,

Stealer of my heart and my beauty sleep, you have brought such an incredible new dynamic to what I thought was a pretty darn good life to begin with. But now that you’ve joined our party, we have all changed for the better. I cherish our conversations before the sunrise, the way you grab my face and pull me close to you. Your bright eyes look at me with the awareness that I am your mother, and that gaze is everything to me. I am your mama, and you are my child, and together we have conquered obstacles far more difficult than any I had encountered previously. Your strength gives me strength, Roux Huckleberry, you inspire me to be stronger. I love you eternally, across all time and space. Thank you for coming to me, you are exactly what I needed.

To the next six months, and six million more.

19/52

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“a portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2014”

Emet: A constant state of motion.
Jade: Smile for the camera.
Roux: Fresh from a nap.

I’ve always had a kind of love/hate relationship with this holiday, if it’s even really a holiday, I’m still not sure? For starters, my own mother and I have a long history of tragic encounters as I always fell short of her expectations surrounding Mother’s Day. Then, five years ago, I made the decision to end my marriage to the father of my two older children, the inciting incident involving Mother’s Day plans that had gone awry. Of course, this particular infraction was the last in a long string of similar disappointments, but nonetheless, making such a choice cast a certain kind of damper on the day meant for honoring my role as a mother.

Each year since, Mother’s Day has found me in an unsettled place. Whether I was just starting a new job, struggling to make a strange city feel like home, or battling with plain old anxiety, it seems this day has always brought with it some sort of challenge.

Today started about as unpleasantly as possible, with a crying baby after a rather restless night, followed shortly by a sibling squabble that erupted into full on hysterics. And this was all before I’d even had any coffee! I declared our family unfit for any sort of outing, and set us all to work on various chores instead. Somewhere between the third load of laundry and moving furniture in the dining room, I realized how far five years has brought me.

Never in a million years could I have conceived of the journey that began the morning I chose divorce over despair. Yet here I am, older, wiser, happier, more grateful, more fulfilled, and more inspired than ever before. Sure, I didn’t get breakfast in bed, or even a day without my kids fighting, but this Mother’s Day was spent with the family I have always wanted caring for the house I have always dreamed of, and it was perfect. I even took photos!

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Little by little, our living space is transforming into a reflection of our family and our lifestyle. It’s been five years since I’ve lived in a place that I truly moved into, with photos in frames and art on the walls, and with help from each member of this sweet family of mine, our house is starting to really feel like our home.

Happy Mother’s Day, indeed.

HIGH // LOW // THANKFUL

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taken a few years ago at Barney’s Beanery, a few days before he left the country for a year

I have seven siblings. SEVEN. When I was younger, shuffling between my divorced parents’ respective houses, I wasn’t able to appreciate the fact that I was surrounded by a tribe of really cool kids. I should probably mention that my parents have been married a collective five times, and that I share only one parent with each of my brothers and sisters, but my point is that, as I got older, I began to realize how lucky I am to be related to such special people.

That one up there is Tyler, my Brothery Brother. He’s my mother’s third child, the second child of her third marriage, my second brother, and the first one to be up for any kind of crazy adventure. His wanderlust has taken him everywhere from Colorado to Australia, so it came as no surprise when I learned he up and moved to San Jose without even saying goodbye! Definitely the saddest part of my week. I might have even cried a little. So this is me, wishing him well on his new endeavor in Northern California. I love you, Tyler. I’m proud of you. But I want you back in Southern California as soon as possible, ok?

HIGH: By far, the best thing to happen this week is that our insurance has finally been sorted. It was a bit of a harrowing experience, trying to navigate all of these new policies and procedures, but after nearly nine straight weeks of paperwork and phone calls, it’s all been settled and an enormous weight has been lifted. It’s worth mentioning that I encountered some very, very nice customer service representatives, and they deserve credit for being so incredibly helpful. It really was a confusing process, and I am extremely grateful for how it all managed to work out.

LOW: My house isn’t any more organized today than it was on Monday, and I haven’t written anything since last Friday, which is to say that I didn’t get nearly as much done this week as I had intended. No laundry, no scrubbing, no sweeping, nothing. It’s hard when the only tangible evidence to the endless work I seem to do each day is the pile of dirty diapers in the rubbish bin, and I’m trying my best to embrace my temporary role as stay-at-home-mama, but I sure would like a few uninterrupted hours to tackle my ever growing to-do list. That being said, if the lowest point of my week is the fact that my house isn’t clean, then I think I’m doing pretty good. How’s that for perspective!

THANKFUL: Our tiny guy is waking up more and more each day, and he’s beginning to connect with each of us which has been very exciting for Emet and Jade. This morning, I left the two big kids alone with the baby for about fifteen minutes, and overheard the sweetest interactions between the three of them. Siblings really are the best, and I’m so happy to get to witness their special relationships develop. I hope when they’re older, they stay as close as I have with my own siblings. And that they never wake up to discover one has moved without saying goodbye. I’m just saying.

THE 52 PROJECT – AN UPDATE

threesiblings
“a portrait of my children, all three of them”

Well, it’s been a busy few weeks over here. With everything that has happened recently – a nearly ten day hospital stay, a new baby, a handsome fiancĂ©, and not a lot of sleep – my personal projects have fallen a bit by the wayside. I had the most noble intentions when it came to this portrait series, and it seems that at this point, I’ll just have to take what I can get and work with it as best I can. Which, not for nothing, seems to be a current theme in my life.

Emet has wanted a baby brother for as long as I can remember, and seeing how much he loves and cares for the newest member of our family is absolutely priceless. He takes his role as the oldest very seriously. Whether he’s reading to his sister, or fawning over our tiny guy, the love he has for his younger siblings is unsurpassed. Jade is over the moon excited about having a baby in the house, being the little mama that she is. The days since bringing our bundle home from the hospital have been full of so much love and so many tender moments, my heart can barely contain it all.

Did I mention that I’m not sleeping? I’m not sleeping. At most, I’ve gotten three consecutive hours since the baby was born. Whether I’m being woken by soft newborn cries, or the sharp sting of too much milk in my boobs (sorry, but it’s true), one way or another sleep escapes me entirely. Surprisingly, I haven’t lost my mind completely. I have somehow managed to get the big kids fed and off to school in the mornings, and to keep our house relatively tidy. Ok, the mister gets most of the credit for keeping the house tidy, so I guess what I mean to say is that I’ve managed to not destroy our house, which is kind of the same thing, right?

We’re beginning to find our rhythm, and I’m slowly climbing out from under the weight of all these thoughts I have swimming around in my head. I’ll be honest, it’s hard to spend so many months planning and visualizing one kind of experience only to have the exact opposite come to pass. And I’m a sentimental gal, meaning it’s far too easy for me to be swallowed whole by what ifs and whys.

Tonight was supposed to be our last date. We’d planned on seeing The Grand Budapest Hotel, and enjoying one last fancy meal together. The chances of us actually making it to the theatre to catch this film are slim, let alone getting out for a grown-ups only dinner anytime soon. We did, however, steal away to a favorite local spot for lunch today, and the baby slept through the whole meal. It sure felt like a date. A date chaperoned by the smallest, sweetest person I’ve ever met.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that even though I was caught completely off guard, and rather unexpectedly, I’m finding my way back. And I’m a better, stronger person for it.