Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Peacocks and Pizza

Every day Mr. D will pick up numerous things- a remote, a dog food can, a piece of carrot or sweet potato- and place it to his ear.


"Who's that?" We'll ask, though it's the same every time.

"Cea-cock?" He'll reply, smooshing the sweet potato chunk into his hair.

Of course. Peacock is apparently one for the phone.

"Yea? And what's peacock saying?!"

"Piz-za!" And this is always delivered with excellent eye contact, a smile, and emphatic nodding. Because clearly, whether he's ordering or peacock is, calling peacocks for pizza is truly exciting business.


And though his fascination with peacocks began at Christmas, it was further fueled by a visit to our local peacock hang out, Mayfield Park. He insisted on wearing his hat and backpack the whole time since he just knew an adventure was at hand. 

{the first picture of me and my girl on this camera.}

 His sweet innocence just melts me all over.


Wednesday, April 9, 2014

Sybil's Weekly Photos :: 1, 2, 3

This has been the pregnancy of the iPhone. We realized we took no official photos of me pregnant with our camera, just as we've only done a handful since Sybil was born. Picking up a camera while taking care of a toddler, newborn, large dog, and household just is a bit too much for my little self right now. (Which also explains the lack of those 52 Project photos I'd planned... ) But I'm determined to keep up with those weekly photos I loved with D. so whipped that Nikon out twice (true to fashion we missed week one) and snapped away.

And here you have it. The start of Sybi's weekly photo op. 

{this is all we got right before a violent spit-up event, so we went with it. bebe numero dos.}
As for how these first few weeks have been, they've sailed by. We lucked out with another baby that sleeps nice stretches (so far!). She has some fussy patches here and there which she fights through then passes out. Which means baby cuddling during tv time at night followed by a chunk of sleep for mama. And in the day? As long as she's moving, whether wrapped tight in the moby or driving in the car or relaxing in her swing, she's a happy camper.


Tuesday, April 1, 2014

These Early, Messy Moments

My silence of nearly a month says it all- it's a bit crazy here. Not bad crazy or loud crazy or "what the freakity-freak are we doing?!" crazy, more just the we are in pure survival mode and have no time for any normal necessities like cleaning and cooking and shopping crazy. Which doesn't lead to hopping onto the blog.

Yesterday says it all. Following afternoon naps I loaded the kids in the car and headed to do a quick errand. This meant no shoes and pajamas for Declan, a baby that was fast asleep and thus not fed, and a mom who had forgotten to brush her teeth and was fairly stinky due to the fact that she was dressed for weather about 30 degrees colder. The errand was completed and right as I was about to pull onto our street, I took a left instead of a right and headed to a friend's. I realized that the fact that we were out, in a car, was a miracle in itself and if I was going to ever see her it had to be now. So we rolled up, I popped in some gum, and proceeded to have life breathed back into me in the form of toddlers playing, smoothie drinking, chatting with people over the age of two, and enjoying the lovely weather in a grassy backyard. That left turn was the best choice I've made this week, even if it meant walking around with a milk sticky stomach and a shirt a bit too sweaty out since taking my sweatshirt off in front of people with noses would have been downright mean.

Ha. Getting real there, but that's what I want to remember. These early, messy moments. Just like I want to remember moments like now, when my sweet seven and a half pound girl is cuddled asleep in my lap keeping me locked down to write this. When I have actually showered and am donning"real" clothes. When Declan is having a full nap that will refresh him for a playdate with neighbors.

This parenting two kids under two thing might take some getting used to, but I can already say that I already don't remember or want it any other way. These are my people, my hearts, and this is where I'm meant to be.


Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Our Girl.

At 2:16 am on March 13 we welcomed our sweet girl:

Mina Sybil
(pronounced my-na, my mother's name. Though we call her Sybil.)
7 lb 2 oz
19 inches

Not even two weeks in and I already can't imagine a day without our daughter, our Sybi. <3


Monday, March 3, 2014

37 Weeks (...and 5 days)

{written on Sunday... Though I am, in fact, enjoying another morning of alone time thanks to a sweet, sweet friend.}

I have a distinct memory of when I fell for iPods. (kind of like I remember my first time with napster... apparently I have close relationships with my music providers.)

My eighteenth birthday held a bad breakup which knocked me down for quite some time, and after being pushed to pick a present for a few weeks, I landed on an iPod. Why I needed it when there were discmen, I didn't know, but I really didn't care much about anything. So I got this iPod, a big old classic white one, downloaded my music, and went back to my depression.

The next day was gloomy and there was school and tears and all I wanted was to leave the world and curl up alone. But instead, I put in those new earbuds, lifted my hood, and trudged through campus. And that's when my soul and the world truly united. "Round Here" by the Counting Crows serenaded me as a chilling rain fell down, and somehow all the grey on my inside and outside connected and I felt at peace. From there on out Apple and I were besties.

All of this to say, I had another perfect moment like that today.

I'm feeling moody. Ready for this to be over and done with; ready to feel normal and energetic again; ready for my abs to not rip apart when I lift my son or bend over. Mornings are getting to be a battle as I wake up and am accosted by demands- a crying boy who wants something he can't explain, a dog who needs out then food then out again, a cat needing in and more food as well. There is so much noise and whining and barking and crying and I just can't seem to find the patience from deep within to deal. So today Peyton sweetly took Declan out and as a storm rolled in, I leashed Tegan up and hit the streets.

We walked and walked and walked some more, as it started to drizzle then rain then pour. And as she peeked at me to see if it was over, I looked ahead at the sheet of rain and felt connected. Alone for once but encompassed by a world that also felt this same darkness. My shoes were wet. My face was numb. My pants were soaked through. And as the wind hit my thighs I felt the bitter sting of cold, a sensation that in that moment I loved. Nature met my internal discomfort externally and once again all felt right about feeling this blue.

So these are my feelings at 37 weeks. Basically I've hit the primal animal instinct stage to go nest and be alone. Sadly, as deeply as I crave it, this isn't at all possible; so instead I will settle for a few hours on a Sunday morning as the rain pitter-pats outside, showering and dressing and working to that same melancholy music that nestles in my soul, and taking important moments by myself to just breathe.

And those things together equal magic.

**If you have any depressing/melancholy/soul-stirring music that you'd like to share I'd love to hear it! I am always on the lookout for more of that goodness. 

(You see, I can like all sorts of things Tisse... INCLUDING ONE DIRECTION. ;))**


Wednesday, February 26, 2014

A Letter to a Newborn Mother {i.e. myself in a matter of days}

Dear mama,

In a span of mere hours you've been immersed in an identity somewhat unknown to you- mother of a newborn. Even if you've been here before, each time is somewhat new- different challenges, thoughts, feelings, and joys. You are cloaked in so much beauty and stress and peace and frustration that you might feel like a muddled mess of confusion. But hear me out- you will make it through.

In this all consuming new world, you've had to shed your old skin. You've been swallowed heart and soul by this being, this innocent, little creature who has no abilities beyond you. And while you may love her and this position, it's okay if you don't always. It's hard. You aren't living for you these days- you are living for her. And while it seems like this is eternity at times, trust me that it isn't. You will eventually sleep for stretches over three hours. You will shower, you will eat, you will cook, and you will clean. You will regain routine and you will do all those trivial daily things that once seemed annoying but now signify freedom. But you will never, ever get these days with her back. Enjoy them.

Because the fact remains, one day she will start to separate and blossom. You will catch up on sleep enough to see through the fog and will be surrounded by a bittersweet tinge. There will be laughing and cooing and smiling. There will be exploring and cuddles and crying. There will be solid foods and reading up on weaning and watching her scoot her little body away from you on the floor. And believe me, you will love every minute. And while you are loving every moment, every cell in your body might be screaming to stop time; to soak this in; to hold on with all your might. But you can't. You have to let go; that's just the way of growth.

And this too will get easier. That skin you shed when you became newborn mother, the one that held all those lovely facets of who you are, will begin to grow back. Please let it. It can be tough to forfeit the feeling of the newness, to forgo the tenderness that people give you when they realize you are the protector of this new little life, but you must. You must take your soul back and revel in your growing autonomy, just as you revel in hers. It's the way of the world and it's vital for you both.

And believe it or not, there will come a day when it's truly okay that she's not so tiny anymore. Where you see other babies and want to sniff their heads and hold their tiny bodies, but handing them back to pick up the one pulling at your leg covered in dirt demanding "up" will be a relief. You'll handle the acceptance of this child's bigness with the realization that they are still really so small, and somehow balance the feelings of needing to grasp on to each and every fleeting moment with actually living and breathing them in.

Right now this might all seem impossible. That's why I'm writing to you beforehand. Before those pesky hormones kick in and lack of sleep takes over. Before you watch her grow and grow and grow, taking picture after picture to hold on. Before you realize that your identity for the past year has given way to her out of necessity, and going back to before isn't that simple. And before that momentum starts to shift and you have to find the before you piece-by-piece so that you can see it's going to be more than okay. You will always be a mother and the journey ahead is so immensely beautiful, much more than you realize. It's just that you will get to be you while on it.

So remember- you are in a gifted period of time, precious but short. Enjoy it. Don't fret about your house or look on blogs at moms that "do it all" or take heart if someone asks you what exactly you did all day.

You gave life; you gave yourself; you gave your all. 

**Linking up with The Weigands for On Your Heart.**

Saturday, February 22, 2014

36 Weeks

There was a time (before I was pregnant) when I imagined growing a second child and documenting the whole experience in the ways that I wanted to but didn't with Declan. (I started at 29 weeks with him and only wrote a handful of times- 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. )

This was, of course, before I realized that I'd also be taking care of a toddler, a household, and myself. Basically adding more on to my plate than I'd ever had with the first pregnancy and thus fighting to stay afloat with my actual responsibilities. So writing those weekly updates was not to be yet again. The few so far will just have to do, because we are in the home stretch.

I'm so excited and so scared at the same time. I know what's going to come in some significant ways- the feeling of holding her sweet weight for the first time, the coos and smells and weight of her sleeping on my chest, the hours upon hours spent breastfeeding for what seems like e-ter-ni-ty. And this knowledge is wonderful and terrifying all at once, since along with the sweetness comes the lack of sleep- something you can only understand once you've been there. Then there are the unknowns that come from already having Declan to care for and love. How to share the attention fairly; how to manage on minuscule amounts of sleep without napping; how to change 2,371 diapers a day. All of that is more than a teensy bit frightening.

We're getting to the point of knowing she could arrive at any time. (As in, I'm 3 cm dilated and 70% effaced, so literally have been warned she could come at any time...) I've been balancing being in overdrive trying to get things done with the fact that I'm 36 weeks pregnant, a feeling that is starting to hit me hard. It's one day on and one day off of energy supply. And even on those go hard days I have to remind myself that sleep will be limited soon so get it while I can, which just adds another task to my to-do list.

This whole flow of consciousness is to remind myself yet again that she's coming. Anytime. It's gone from some weird kind of "if" feeling to "when." Yet still it feels totally like dreamland. I just wanted to take a moment to honor this. This moment of knowing life is about to change drastically but not knowing when. To try to savor the feelings of her kicking within since she can never go back, even as she shifts her weight onto nerves that don't appreciate having that weight on them one bit. These final days where Declan is the only one I look at through my mama eyes; where he's my one and only.

I'm going to be a mother of two children in mere days. 

And one of them will be a daughter. 


*Follow any updates on instagram!*

*listening to*
Story of My Life - One Direction
Happy - Pharrell Williams
Best Day of My Life - American Authors
See You Tonight - Scotty McCreery