SLOANE AT 22 MONTHS

It's happening, guys. She is gonna get to two years old in a blink of an eye.  And it's getting to be extra thrilling right about now because she is chatting it up, she understands so much and we are having all sorts of conversations. 

 I wrote this really really long post about something scary that happened this past weekend, a sort of precursor to what I'm about to write here, but I lost it. It got deleted and I couldnt get it back. It took me a really long time to write so it was super frustrating but in the end maybe it's for the best. It was more for self-therapy anyways and that job has been done. In a nutshell, Sloane had a terribly high fever on Saturday night and she ended up having a seizure. I called 911, we ended up in the ER and we spent Sunday recovering. It was the worst thing I have ever seen and I am perhaps still a little traumatized. She is fine now, it was a febrile seizure, which is common, so no damage was done, but GEEZ, really? Ken and I were shaken up about it, we got a peek into the depths of terrible things that could happen. He said that it feels like he lost that part of him that trusts that she is going to be okay and that it would probably take time for him to feel safe about it all again; I find myself randomly crying.  But that super-long-forever-lost post was also about how the end goal of all this parenting isn't about making sure nothing bad happens to our children; that's impossible. My mom gave me a great piece of advice when I was pregnant with Sloane that she says she wishes she knew from the beginning and something I've tried to remember going forward. She said that parents need to remember that we don't own our children; our kids aren't ours. They are God's, gifted and entrusted into our care for our joy and growth and mutual benefit. The point isn't to keep them in a bubble, or make them exactly like us. It's a discovery, it's mining for wisdom, it's letting go of things we can't control. That's freeing right?  To trust that she is always in bigger and better hands, and be able to focus on loving her fiercely moment by moment. 

This is getting to be pretty long all on it's own. But just wait! There's more.

At 22 months, she can walk down steps, even big steps all by herself, with the help of a banister or a wall. She loves being able to do that and man, that face of accomplishment that she has after doing something on her own, can I bottle that up and keep it forever? 

These days when I drop her off, she asks me for a goodbye hug before scampering off. Is there some kind of celebratory trumpet a mom can play when her baby starts initiating hugs and kisses all on her own? I'm playing it!

She is so dang smart. I constantly find myself slack-jawed about how much she understands. 

Along with asking me what everything is, she now also asks what I am doing. It kills me when she follows up my answer with an all-knowing, "ohhhh"

"What you doooing?" 

"I'm pouring milk."

"Ohhh". 

"What you doing??"

"I'm shaving my legs..."

"Ohhh"

"Mommy, shoes, " she tells me as she hands me my sneakers to put on. 

"Oh honey, I'm not going to wear those, I'm wearing my sandals." 

"Ohhh, okay." She then proceeds to go get me my sandals. 

She also asks where things went. 

"Where glasses go?" 

"Where papa go?" 

"Mommy, it's yucky" she says as she wipes my checkbook down with a tissue. "It is?" "Yes," she says, all serious. "I cleaning it." After using about 10 tissues from the tissue box to 'clean it'. She hands it back to me. "Here you go, Mommy." "Thanks sloane." "Mommy, can I read it?" "The checkbook?" "Yes." 

We have our own kind of secret handshake.  She says, "My mommy!" And I say, "My Sloane!" And we squeeze each other tight. Or I'll start, "My Sloane!" "My mommy!" Squeeze.

At one point on Sunday afternoon I started randomly crying, remembering the events of the night before. She walked over to me, "Mommy, up!" I scooped her up and she put her hands around my neck, tilted her head and put her face close to mine, "Are you okay?" "Yes," I laughed. "I'm okay."

REST IN PEACE, MONTRACHET II

Monty was the regal dog of Paul and my sister, Sharon. He was the honorary grandpa of the family, with the best characteristics of an older and wiser soul. All knowing, but not verbose, affectionate but mostly in the way of his presence being a comfort. He loved a soft blanket to lay on and appreciated the finer things in life. He pitter pattered through life, his ears and fluff bouncing with his gait. He was always up for adventure, usually bookended by a hearty nap. He was a great companion, on the train, in the car, in good times and especially during difficult times. His eyes often said, “I know. But it will be alright.” He was greatly admired and fiercely loved.  

Monty also happened to have my favorite twitter account of all time. I’ve included some of my favorite Monty-isms below:

I know you think I don't understand, but this blank look I'm giving you is the equivalent of "I refuse to dignify that with an answer.

Sometimes I tremble, but it's mostly because the air is so fresh, the earth so firm. Sunlight penetrating clouds of cotton.

Their excuse for forgetting me in the backyard was camouflage. Please, like I haven't heard that one before.

Where did the girl who feeds me apple slices go?

I am sitting on top of a warm air vent in @weareyoungloves and contemplating the finer points life: how my ears flutter attractively.

Just feeling really good.

Thanks for being a part of our lives Monty, we will miss you terribly. 

SLOANE AND RUSTY ....AND BOURBON

Let me dispense this piece of tried and true advice: If you are feeling crummy, go get yoself some sweaty exercise!. I think everyone must know this, but for some reason I still surprise myself over and over again about how effective exercise is about taking me out of the slumps.   It doesn't actually solve your problems, but usually it gives me a much needed attitude adjustment. The combination of endorphins and focus does a mental and physical body soo good. 

 Yeah, things like wanting to improve the way I look can be a motivation, but honestly that doesn't give me the extra push to get up and go to it in the moment when I'm not feeling like doing anything.  When the last thing I want to do is strap on a sports bra and go work out, the thing that motivates me is knowing that I will feel great after the workout. It all too often looks like this, especially if it’s on a weekday and more especially if it’s been a rough day: I hobble home from a long work day and even though the only thing I want to do is sit upon the couch with a bottle of wine and a piece of chocolate cake, zoning out to some TV,  I remind myself that I will feel awesome if I exercise, drag myself to the gym, sweat and push my body, and get back home feeling like a million bucks. It's usually miles away from how I was feeling pre-workout. I'm flooded by gratitude about the gift that is to be in my body and present in the moment. 

Don’t get me wrong, I also enjoy and endorse the activity of sitting upon the couch with red wine and chocolate. And I don’t exercise every day. But I have gotten into a rhythm now where I am getting in these sweaty work outs 3-4 times a week and my mental, emotional and physical health is grateful for it.  I get in these dark modes sometimes that is hard to shake, but a round of heart pumping cardio will usually take me right out of it. I also love how I am getting stronger and learning what my body is capable of, but that is another post entirely and we'll go there someday. This all is actually not what I was going to write about at all, but it's my reflection of how this week kind of rattled my brain and how I tried to stifle all my whining and complaining with sweaty bouts of exercise.

 

Last weekend reminded me of those goody bags that we used to get from birthday parties when we were younger. Like a really good one, stuffed with the best kind of candy and bursting at the seams.  Breakfast with some of my favorite people, a wedding at the gardens, dinner with my MIL, church, moving friends into their new Church Hill spot, grocery shopping and cooking for the week with Ken,  working out in the garage with morale support from Sloane, an episode of ‘The Americans’ in bed with Ken. (Side note: you guys, the Americans, I’m into it! We are only on episode three, the progress is super slow, but I’m officially interested).  These photos are from that golden hour around 4 or 5, right after I had done a fun heart-pumping work out in the garage. It is so funny to have Sloane in there with us, watching my moves, giving me occasional hugs, trying to copy what we’re doing, taking swigs of water from our cups as she marches back and forth through the garage. Rusty is back, to Sloane’s great delight, and he hung out with us in the garage too. Sloane spent most of the time holding his leash, which she loves doing, and trying to boss him around.  Once I was done with my workout, we took a walk around the backyard- Sloane happily holding on to the leash and Rusty being terribly gracious about it all. I know Rusty is not actually my baby, but seeing these two together sometimes makes my heart flutter in that way I imagine a mom with two babes might feel. 

 

In other news... I am committing to making bourbon cocktails all summer long. It's a thing I'm doing, just bear with me. I started with pineapple mint juleps and last weekend I made this really delicious 'brown derby', which is honey, fresh grapefruit juice and bourbon. I'll most likely keep you posted, Next up, ice tea & lemonade bourbon shot bites!

GRADUATION PARTIES AND SUCH

June, is that really you?? SO glad to see you; May was quite the month there, with Ken out of town for over half the month and strange illnesses and other bumpy road type things. I loved the month anyways, the whole month kind of was like a toast to good friends; my sisters came to town, two graduations, a baby shower,  one of my best friends celebrates her birthday this month, and there were those Memorial Day get-togethers.

Now it looks like June is going to be a month of weddings. We already went to one of them this past weekend, and there are two more to go! And another baby shower. And more friends coming to town.  Hey! I love summer.

But back to the graduation parties, because all the pictures in this post is about one of them. I am just so dang proud of the friends that graduated this month. They are husbands and fathers and worked their butts off while their wives cheered hard from the sidelines and picked up any slack. So I am really dang proud of the wives, too. We had hoorah'ed Robert and Kevin at a party the week before at this beautiful house filled with people so proud they could burst, and then the following week we had another party for Ian at his parents' romantic backyard.

It was one of those lovely hazy early summer evenings -  there were tables set up in the garden, the plants were lush and the babes, plentiful and adorable.  How lucky we are to celebrate in such ways.

i could hang out with this girl all day and follow her on all her adventures

i could just eat her up

this was so. good. there was a chorizo sweet potato thing, coleslaw, fresh corn and bean salad, guacamole, all wrapped up in there.   

sloane has been asking to be held 'like a baby' recently.  also, matching bobby pins! 

LITERATURE AND FOOD STYLING IN ONE SMASHING BOOK

Check out these photos from the book, 'Fictitious Dishes: An Album of Literature's Most Memorable Meals'  by Dinah Fried! As a person who loves to both literature and food, this project makes me feel happy all the way down to my toes.  Dinah Fried is a designer and writer and has put together these meals and table settings imagined out of the great books of literature. The book has 50 of these scenes, along with an excerpt from the book to go along with the photo. Below are some of my favorites so far, and I can't wait to see more!

The Great Gatsby:



The Catcher in the Rye:



The Bell Jar:



Alice in the Wonderland

Moby Dick:

P.S. Go here for an interview with Dinah Fried about her process.