The two-week wait

So, we decided to give IVF another shot, and luckily this time we made it all the way to embryo transfer! This in and out itself is something to celebrate, as we didn't have any fertilized eggs during the first round. We ended up with one perfect little 9-10 cell three-day transfer, and now the dreaded two-week wait is almost at an end. 

For many, this is the most challenging part of the IVF process, ironically, because there is so little to actually do. Up until this point, there are numerous shots, pills, ultrasounds, and procedures, and it all seems to move fairly quickly. Every other day you are getting an update about how big your follicles are or how well your embryos developed since yesterday. The doctors and nurses have so much control over the first half of the process, and they are able to give you so much specific information about what is happening both inside and outside of your body, that it feels pretty exhilarating.

And then, you have your embryo transfer. And suddenly, the constant barrage of information comes to a screeching halt. Despite the incredible advances in infertility procedures, once that little embryo goes back in, there isn't much they can do to make sure it sticks. I have been taking estrogen and progesterone to create a cozy little habitat for my growing ball of cells, but we are completely in the dark about what's going on in there.

For the scores of infertile women who've become obsessed with monitoring their follicle number and size, comparing the thickness of their uterine linings, and agonizing over the  grade given to their embryos, this two-week dark period of information is truly unbearable. These women have become pseudo experts in the science of baby making, and understanding the live birth rate of a three-day versus a five-day transfer gives them the illusion of something that's been stripped from them: control.

Because that's really what this is all about. In our minds, having a baby is supposed to be something you are in control of. If you want to have a baby, you get pregnant. End of story. But for the infertile woman, this major life decision is completely out of her hands. Making the decision to do fertility treatments gives her some of that control back, but when that two-week wait rolls around, and there is nothing to do but wait, she feels that control slipping away once more. She becomes obsessed with IVF message boards where women talk about eating pineapple core and warm foods to help implantation. They encourage you to wear socks for two weeks, and not to do any exercise but walking. They convince you that if you follow these specific steps, you will be able to control whether or not your embryo will stick, and when it doesn't, you convince yourself that it was because you lifted that heavy box, because you drank that cup of coffee, because you couldn't stomach eating pineapple core, when the truth is that there is really nothing you can do. Either the embryo will turn into a baby or it won't. And despite all the things that women suffering from infertility have learned, they haven't learned to let go.

Believe me, I am right there with them. This process makes you obsessive. The other day, Mike said, "I think I've given you offer 100 shots." How could you not be obsessed with something that is taking up so much of your physical and emotional time?

But I'm trying to focus on other things, as well. The parts of the process that often go overlooked, like how much other people in my life care about me. The day before my transfer, my best friend took the train in from New York just to watch Ella for one day. A girlfriend who lives in London sent me a message to tell me she's keeping me in her prayers, and a friend's sister who I hadn't seen in at least fifteen years hugged me and shared her own infertility struggles so I wouldn't feel so alone. 

It's easy to focus on the negative with IVF- the needles, the doctor's appointments, the cost, the emotional roller coaster- but for those of us willing to share that burden with others, we find that there are friends who are happy to lighten the load. There is so much out of my control, out of everyone's control, but the relationships we hold dear are something we can foster and nurture and influence.

I don't know how this two week wait will turn out. There will be a lot of joy or a lot of sadness. It's out of my hands. So I'm focusing on the things I can actually reach out and touch, and thankfully, those things are reaching right back. 

Gratitude

I went to yoga for the first time in a while yesterday. I expected a good physical workout, but I didn't imagine the emotional butt kicking I would get. 

It started out like any other class. I was sweating through each pose, glad to be stretching and twisting after a few weeks of trying to take it easy while doing my first IVF cycle. At the end of class, my teacher, Verred, reminded us to have gratitude in our lives and specifically to have "gratitude for our bodies." 

This struck a chord with me. I was sitting with my hands in prayer at my heart, and I had to fight back tears. It wasn't until that very moment that I realized I'd been hating my body rather than appreciating it.

My body and I have a troubled and complicated relationship. I spent most of my childhood and adolescent years significantly overweight. I always felt like my body was holding me back from greatness. I literally felt weighed down by self-loathing, self-doubt, and fear and imagined that if I could just shake my body off like a snake's skin, my true self would emerge.

Even after I lost weight, my body remained a barometer of my self-worth. I fought with my body each day to stay thin, and then it became this hungry bag of bones trying to ruin me with food.

Slowly, I changed my relationship with my body; slowly I came to see my body as valuable and worthy of care and respect.

But it wasn't until I got pregnant that I really began to love my body. Each day I watched my belly grow, and with it my wonder at how miraculous the body is. I was so proud of what my body could do and loved watching it transform over those nine months.

After that, I thought my days of hating my body were over, and, yet, there I was, sitting on my mat, realizing that I am so angry with my body for betraying me once more, for refusing to do the one thing that I am biologically programmed to do, one thing I thought my body was actually good at.

I hadn't realized this, or, at least, I hadn't put it into words until Verred said "gratitude," and as I drove home, I thought about it more and more. There are so many blessings in my life, and it has become a daily ritual to remind myself of them each day, but not once had I placed my body on the list of blessings. This body which has carried me through 33 years without a broken bone or serious illness, this body that birthed a child with no medication, this body that ran two 5Ks this year, this body that I have often mistreated and disrespected, comes back each day like a faithful dog.

And I realized that my body is not trying to hurt me. Each day it pumps with blood, fills with breath, stretches, runs, thinks, cries, and laughs. It does its very best for me every minute of every day, and for that I am grateful.

 I guess I just needed a reminder.

Thanks for that, Verred.

Kid-free weekend

So last weekend was Alex and Larry's wedding up in the Cape. Since the wedding plans got underway, Mike and I have been debating whether or not to take Ella with us. We considered bringing our babysitters (A.K.A my parents) along with us and making a real vacation of it, but we ultimately decided that we wanted to just be on our own for once. Both Mike and I have been away from her for several days before, but we haven't had the opportunity to do that together, so we were really looking forward to it.

The funny thing was that it was strange to both be away from her and not have any grading left to do. When we arrived on Saturday, it was raining, and we had some down time before the party started. In my normal life, I never, ever feel moments of boredom, and I don't really know how to deal with having nothing to do, so I had my first little itch of "I kind of wish Ella was here," mostly because I wasn't quite sure what to do with myself.

However, once the parties got underway, I was glad to have the freedom to enjoy myself. Our other friends who had brought their children had to play the, "Which one of us is going to go to bed now?" game, and we were glad to not play it.

At one point, one of our friends who had left her ten-month-old for the first time came up to me and said, "Do you miss Ella?" implying that she was having a really hard time without her little girl. And, I realized how much things change in just a couple of years. Before Ella was a year, it would have been nearly impossible for me to leave her. I would have worried about her nighttime routine, her napping, her eating, everything. Now, she really is just a kid, and if she stays up late, then she stays up late. If she eats cotton candy and lollipops for two days, she'll survive. I so understand how my girlfriend felt, and I'm so glad to be past that feeling.

I did slip away around ten on Friday night to call my parents and see how bedtime went. My father answered the phone and said, "We're just pulling in the driveway!" I assumed she was asleep in the car, but my father said, "Nope! She's wide awake. Want to talk to her?" I couldn't believe it. I had never spoken to her at 10 PM in the three years she's been alive. They had just arrived home from my niece's dance recital and she couldn't have been more excited about all the things she'd seen. It was shocking, and heart-wrenching, and wonderful to know she was having a great time without us. A while later, my father sent me this picture of her evening at Izzy's recital.

I saw that look on her face, and I knew that she certainly wasn't any worse for wear. When we got home, I gave her a big hug and we had the following conversation:

Me: El, did you miss me?
Ella: No.
Me: Didn't you ever think, 'Gee, I wish Mom was here?'
 Ella: No, I never think that.

And even though her reaction was super harsh, I was glad to know that she is okay without us. She is her own little person now, and she doesn't always need Mommy and Daddy around to have a good time. Though, being missed just a little bit wouldn't be so terrible.

Congratulations to Alex and Larry, and thanks so much to my parents for putting that smile on my little girl's face.

Popping Bubbles

A disclaimer...

It's been over a month since I blogged. This is the first time since I started the blog that I've let an entire month go by, and this makes me a little sad. I'm sad for both the right reasons and the wrong ones. The wrong reason is out of a sense of failure. I love to write; next to cooking, writing is my most favorite thing to do. Also, walking in the woods. If I could find a way to write about eating while walking in the woods, I'd be a very happy girl. So, why, then, have I allowed over a month to go by without writing a post? Work, kids, life, work, weeding, laundry, etc. Okay, so I know why, but I still feel like a failure for not carving out one hour for myself every now and again to do this thing that really does matter to me. But this is not the right reason to be disappointed. What matters is that every time I don't blog, I'm missing out on a chance to create that living record of the amazing Ella B. The sheer number of funny things she said or did in that one month is unimaginable, and everyday I tell myself, "Oh, I'm totally going to remember that one!" and then I start to make dinner, and Mike gets home from work, and when I turn to tell him what she said, I've already lost it. Life is happening so fast, and sometimes it feels like she's passing by me in a blur of hair and teeth. I'm trying to catch her, but she slips just out of my reach every time.

This is all very dramatic, of course, and plenty of people can enjoy their children's lives without every taking pen to paper or finger to keyboard, but for me, this is a place where I get to hold her just a little longer, and I want to do a better job of giving myself that gift...So, without further ado...

 Dear Ella B,

You never want to go inside anymore. It takes every promise of Cinderella and sour worms and ballerina dancing to get you in the door so I can make dinner, but today was just too beautiful. So, we changed our clothes, made a picnic, grabbed a blanket and headed back outside. We raced on the driveway and practiced bike riding, and then we laid the blanket in the backyard and had our dinner. I read I Love You Stinky Face while you ate strawberries, and we snuggled under a canopy of leaves. You put your hands behind your head and said you were relaxing, and I laid down next to you, feeling the sun on my face, and exhaled long and deep. You are three years old, and your skin is soft and your hair streams halfway down your back. You say things like "disappointed" and "eventually," as if you're fifteen, but you also say "each udder" and "somefing" to remind me you aren't. You can almost ride a bike and get yourself dressed, but you still like to sit and hold my thumb while we watch T.V. You ask a million questions, but when I ask you about your day at school, you say, "I don't want to talk about it." You think sitting at the table during dinner is the worst kind of torture, and you scream every time I try to brush your hair. You know songs about the days of the week and the months of the year, and you desperately want to be a big sister. You are starting to remember things, Ella B. You are making memories, and it makes me so happy to know that all these days that fill our lives with joy are starting to stick. So, here's one for you, in case you forget. Tonight, while we sat on the blue blanket in our backyard, you asked me to blow bubbles for you to catch. As I did, we noticed that the ones that fell on the blanket didn't pop right away. They hopped a little and then rested there. You went to pop one, and I said, "No, wait, let's see how long it lasts," and we sat and watched the bubble, the iridescent sphere swirling in the sun until it finally popped. You said, "It didn't last, Mommy," and I said, "I know, buddy. It's okay." You furrowed your brow and stared at the spot where the bubble once was. I blew another bubble, and another, and another until I finally got one to land right on your dress and sit there for just a minute. You smiled at it, and we watched it explode into a million tiny droplets. You collapsed into my lap dreamily and said, "I love bubbles, Mommy," and I said, "Me too, buddy," knowing that we both meant so much more than that. These are the days I will cherish. I hope you will too.

Love you always, 

Mom

Blizzard 2013

As I am writing this, I'm realizing that since I began this blog, I've written a lot of weather related posts. It's pretty amazing that in less than three years Ella has already lived through two hurricanes, a blizzard, and two Halloween snow storms. I don't know if it's global warming, but I do know that we've had some crazy weather up in here lately.

The blizzard may have been the craziest so far, at least where we live. I know Sandy did quite a number on some coastal towns, but for us, this was a bigger deal. Mike and I have never seen so much snow in our lives, and I guess that's what made it so exciting. We're use to watching her experience things for the first time, to see that glint of awe in her eyes, but this time, we all had that glint.The three of us couldn't stop staring out the window, watching the snow pour down from the sky, all of our eyes wide and our mouths dropped open.

Once the storm was over, the reality of three feet of snow set in. Ella wanted to go outside immediately, but Mike had a lot of work to do before that was possible. It took him about nine hours to snow blow the driveway, and Ella and I had to entertain ourselves with baking, and dancing, and painting, and coloring, and a whole lot of Toy Story and Ice Age. When we finally made it outside on Sunday, Beezer couldn't contain herself. She was so excited and immediately scurried on top of the three foot snow pile and proceeded to roll and flip and somersault her way into snow ecstasy. Mike decided to build her a snow fort, one my father would have hated, complete with secret underground tunnel ready to collapse at any moment. I watched from the house as they dug tunnels and threw snow balls at each other until he had to drag her inside for nap. She would have stayed out there forever.

The only bad part (besides all the snowblowing) was that Ella woke up on Friday with pink eye. So, there we were in the middle of a blizzard with no way to get any medicine. Luckily, I was able to get out Sunday morning, and I am so glad I did because I had never seen the world look like that before. It was so weird to see unplowed roads on every side of us, snow piles almost ten feet high, and more white than I could ever imagine.

A couple of warm days have melted a lot of the snow, and I can actually see some of our grass again. I'm glad it's almost over and I'll be getting back to work tomorrow, but I'm kind of glad I got to see the world looking so still and picturesque. I'm glad I got to see the world like Beezer does, full of wonder and amazement. The world through a three-year-olds eyes is pretty incredible.

Our first cooking adventure- Eggplant Parmesan. She was so serious about her jobs.

Yep, that's the snow line. Two feet.

That driveway takes a loooong time to snow blow

Inside the best fort ever. I'm kind of bummed it's all melted now.

Those three little hours

Sometimes Friday afternoons make me a little blue. Of course, I'm glad the week is over, and I'm looking forward to heading home, but I always get a little jealous of my kid-less friends who have plans to go out to dinner or to a movie, or to do something else fun. We don't get to go out a lot, and honestly, we don't even have the money for take out, and the thought of going home on Friday night and making chicken and broccoli just sounds a little bit depressing. On top of that, I'm tired after a long week, and though I'm excited to see the beezer, our afternoon times are not really the best. I feel like from the moment I pick her up to the moment she goes to bed, I pretty much spend the whole time arguing with her. She doesn't want to leave school (who can blame her- they have llamas and bearded dragons!), she doesn't want to get in the car, she doesn't want to go inside, she doesn't want to eat dinner, go potty, get in the bath, get her jammies on, go to sleep, etc! I feel terrible that I spend those two or three hours fighting with her, and sometimes I sort of dread going to get her, knowing that my exhausting week still isn't over yet.

Today I was definitely feeling those Friday blues, but this time I tried really hard to fight it. I tried to muster up the energy to be the best mom I could be for those three hours between pick up and bed time. So, when we got home, and Ella asked me to play with her, I didn't say, "No, Mommy has to make dinner." I said, "Sure. Let's go play." So we played until Mike got home, then hid in the tent and waited for him to find us. Then, all three of us played hide and seek until it was time for dinner. Little miss picky actually ate her whole dinner and asked for more, which has never happened in the history of forever. Then, we read a few books and headed upstairs.

After her bath, we read a few more books, and that's when the true cuteness began. She started "reading" the book, and by reading of course I mean that she has memorized some of the words, but when she is actually saying the exact words on the page, it's just about the cutest thing you've ever seen. Then, she started singing "The Wheels on the Bus" and shaking her hips on the bed. She ended all of this cuteness by giving me a hug and saying, "I'm glad you're here, Mom."

She's asleep now, and I can finally relax, and the whole afternoon made me realize that those three hours are pretty precious in my day, and even though I need to clean up and make dinner, and do a million other things, well, sometimes those things can wait, because Ella B is glad I'm here, and I'm glad, too.

Thankful Tree

This year we decided to create a thankful tree that everyone in the house could add a "thankful" leaf to. Some people wrote funny things like, "The Walking Dead," and others wrote more serious notes like "I am thankful for my girlfriends and the men who love them" (my favorite by far written by my girlfriend Alex after an amazing old-school friend brunch). Nathan asked Ella what she was thankful for, and it was adorable watching him try to explain the whole thing to her. How does a seven-year-old explain being thankful to a two-year-old? I guess the same way that anyone does, by telling her it means the things you are happy about. It got me thinking about how well Ella understands this idea. How thankful is she for all the things she has? I know there is so much in her life that she takes for granted, just as there is so much I take for granted in my own life.

One day a few weeks ago, she and I were leaving a store and I had her put a dollar in the Salvation Army can. She asked me why we did it and I tried to explain that other people don't have all the things we have.

"They don't have toys?" she said, incredulous.

"Nope. Some people don't have toys, or coats, or nice shoes, or anything."

"Why they don't have anything?"

"Because not everybody is lucky like us."

"Like us?"

"Yeah, some people don't have any nice things."

"Why don't they get them at the store?"

This went on for quite a while, and I did my best to explain the harsh realities of life to a two-year-old. I feel so lucky that having a difficult life is something I have to explain to her because she wouldn't otherwise know about hardship. I want her to appreciate the things she has, but how do you teach a child to appreciate? How can she "thank her lucky stars" unless she understands that others don't have any stars to wish on?

Of course I want her to be thankful, but I also want her to hold on to her innocence as long as possible. I want her to think that the world is full of rosebuds and lollipops for at least a few more years, and then, when she does learn the truth, I hope she'll be the kind of person who wants to do something about it. But the only way that will happen is if I show her that I'm that kind of person, in little ways everyday. Right now those tiny acts of kindness and giving might not mean anything to her, but someday, when she understands, hopefully it will have sunk in anyway. And then she'll know that being lucky is the kind of gift you are meant to give away.

Thanksgiving 2012

Hey, so about that November blog challenge, well, the thing is...November is probably the worst month (other than December) to ask someone to commit to blogging every day. I was doing really well, and then this little thing called Thanksgiving came up in which I had to cook for twenty people, and then well, I just got a little busy. So, I'm trying to decide if the challenge is officially busted, or if I should start fresh today and finish out the rest of the month. I guess you'll find out tomorrow.

Anyway, we had a lovely Thanksgiving, but I was so busy with turkey cooking and gravy making and whatnot, that I didn't have any time to take pictures. We were lucky that it was one of those beautiful November days so after dinner the kids all went outside and my Aunt Kathy took a bunch of pictures, so we'll see how those turned out. Here is just a smattering of pics from our day. It was full of food, family, and fun. I hope you all have as much to be thankful for as we do.

Happy Thanksgiving!

A picture of a picture on the front porch- Ella and the boys

My sandwich-making helpers- Nathan and Jacob

My sweet potato cupcakes with salted caramel sauce and embellishments thanks to Amy Miller

Our thankful tree that everyone left a message on

The Whole Wide World

Major adventure number two of the summer was a girls only mini-vacation to Cape Cod. One of my girlfriends from work has a house in Dennisport, so Amy, Ella, and I headed up there last week to enjoy a few days of girls only fun. I, of course, was petrified to be on vacation with my little two going on sixteen ball of toddlerness, but I went anyway. I decided today actually that the theme for this summer is "Embrace the Disaster." There was really no chance that Cape Cod was going to go perfectly. I was with a two-year-old, without my husband, and in an unfamiliar place. Because Ella was such a difficult baby and we were forced to put her on a really strict routine about where and when she slept, she has become accustomed to that routine and doesn't do well with change. She likes her crib, her bath tub, her stuff, and her space, so there were bound to be some tantrums and tears.

There were definitely some difficulties along the way. She cried pretty hard the first night when I put her down to sleep, but it only lasted about fifteen minutes. She wouldn't nap in the pack n' play, but she did sleep for a good two hours in the car. There were some bratty moments here and there, but there was also this glorious thing called "the beach." Everyone knows that I am not a beach person (reference any picture available of my translucent skin). I have always found it to be pretty hot and sandy and boring, and I wasn't really looking forward to spending three days lounging on the shore. Of course, once you have a child, there's never really any lounging anyway, which turned out to be a good thing for us. I realized that while I don't really like being a grown-up on the beach, I do still like being a kid on one. It turns out that building sand castles, giving Ella mermaid legs, collecting shells, and running from "sharks" (a.k.a Amy) in the water is just as much fun now as it was when I was a kid, maybe even more so because now I get to see the glint of fun and excitement in her eyes as well.

One moment in particular that I will remember was when we swam out "really deep" as Ella would say and turned to look back at the shore. She held out her arm in a very grown-up sweeping motion and said, "The whole wide world." I don't know where she got that phrase, or what she meant by it, but it felt like an important moment to me. It felt like she was telling me, "Pay attention, Mom. This is a good moment. Be here with me right now and breathe it in." And I did. I let everything else go, and I relished the sun on my face, the water all around, and the little girl with her arms around my neck, and I was so glad to be seeing the "whole wide world" with her.

A special thanks also to Amy and Ali for making that trip happen, and for being so patient with my little one. She can't wait for her next "bacation."

Mother's Day

Last Sunday marked my third Mother's Day as a mom. There was no Mother's Day hoopla or grandeur, but in all the small ways, it was a pretty great day. Ella B slept until after six, which was a huge gift since she normally gets up around 5:30. We had our usual Sunday morning breakfast at the diner with my parents, and then headed home to do some housework. It was a beautiful day and Ella desperately wanted to go to the park. Mike needed to mow the lawn, so Ella and I headed off to the playground while he did work around the house. The day was made especially beautiful by the fact that the sun was shining after weeks of rain and Ella and I spent the morning throwing rocks in the stream, swinging on swings, and exploring the woods next to the playground. Later, my sister and her family came down for a picnic and Ella spent the rest of the day following her "big" cousin Izzy around. We cooked hotdogs, ate corn on the cob, and even enjoyed a little strawberry shortcake. As a final gesture before leaving, Izzy gave Ella her bike, and now Ella thinks she's "big like Izzy."

As we relaxed in the front yard, I thought about how much nicer this Mother's Day was than my first one, or even my second. Motherhood, for me, was not as easy a fit as I thought it would be. Before I had Ella, I imagined that first Mother's Day as this blissful moment filled with effortless breastfeeding, a cooing, happy baby, and a sense of accomplishment and purpose. I thought having a baby would make me content and that everything about it would just feel "right." Unfortunately, that didn't happen for me. Motherhood turned out to be a lot more awkward, clumsy, exasperating, and thankless than I ever could have imagined. I didn't feel like the Earth Mother I'd always envisioned myself as, and realizing that I wasn't as good at this job as I'd thought I would be was a big blow to my ego. There were times when I thought it would never get better and that I'd be carrying that girl to college in a Baby Bjorn.

It took us about a year, and in that year I battled postpartum depression, fed my baby breast milk every day (though she would rarely take it from the source), taught her to sleep in her own crib, and learned how to enjoy her and love her in the way I'd always hoped to from the beginning.

The painting below is a Gustav Klimt print that we found at Ikea when we were pregnant. It was an idealistic vision of motherhood that I took as fact. After I had Ella, I felt duped by that painting for a long time, that it wasn't telling the truth about what motherhood was. Then, a few weeks ago, I took this picture of me and Ella lying on the couch, and I realized that a picture is just a snapshot of one moment. No one's experience is perfect, but there are moments to celebrate and treasure along the way.

Motherhood was not instant bliss for me, and for a long time I felt guilty about that, but I think mothers generally spend way too much time feeling guilty about stuff instead of living in the moment and enjoying the tiny victories that each day brings. The picture above is an example of that kind of victory. A warm person nestled against me who loves me more than anything in the world despite all the mistakes I have made so far. This is our moment of bliss, and I am trying to relish it.

Special Things

On Saturday we were outside playing with bubbles, one of Ella's biggest obsessions. She recently acquired a battery-powered bubble gun (aka- we just put batteries in a bubble gun she got a million years ago) that shoots a stream of bubbles with a squeeze of a button. This is pretty much heaven as far as she's concerned, mostly because she doesn't know how to blow bubbles herself and gets frustrated every time she tries to do it until she looks at me and declares, "It's not working." There aren't a lot of perfect antidotes to toddler problems, but in this case, there is. A seemingly endless stream of bubbles that requires not blowing and no help from mommy. That is perfection. 

After a while, she got bored of simply blowing the bubbles and wanted to chase them. I dutifully took command of the gun and blew the bubbles in her direction as she gleefully chased them amidst the ever-changing wind. At some point it dawned on her that she was no longer in possession of the gun and ran over to me shouting, "That's my bubble thing, Mommy. It's special to me. It's my special thing." Michael and I tried to stifle our laughter as best we could. Where did she get that one? How does she know the word special? As with most things, I realized she had learned something from me quite by accident. I thought about all the times I asked her not to touch my wedding rings, or a small elephant that was my grandmother's. "These things are special to mommy." Her slow and systematic acquisition of language and social understanding never ceases to amaze me. She realizes that certain things are valuable and worth protecting, and in the toddler Universe, a bubble gun ranks right up there at the top of the list.

I started thinking about what other things might be valuable to her: Her Marcia blanket (made by her teacher at school), and her Nene blanket (given to her by my mother) for sure, her Dora umbrella and raincoat, rocks, dandelions, worms we collect to put in the vegetable garden, her playground, squirrels, socks, Goodnight Gorilla and Marley book, her trampoline, the kitchen chair she uses to help me make dinner, as many kisses as she can steal from her father before bed ("Just one more"), having breakfast with Nene and Pop Pop on Sunday mornings, and that big blue house she calls her home ("Yay! I see our house, Mommy").

These are some of her special things, and I know that I rank pretty high on that list, too. And that's good because Ella B, you are my most special thing of all.

Big Moon, Little Star

The universe gives us many challenges, but I think it tries to balance them with blessings- if only we can take the time to notice. Tonight as I left work I was amazed by how warm it was for January 31st. Ella B was also amazed and began running around the driveway the second we arrived home. We spent a solid hour swinging, spinning ("dizzy mommy"), racing ("ready, set, go!"), and making leaf piles.

We were having so much fun that we didn't realize it was getting dark. Soon, the sun had settled far beyond the houses and all that remained was a ribbon of pink and blue. Ella looked up and noticed the moon. I looked too and saw the first star of the night.

"Look El, a star," I said, pointing at the sky.
"Star?"
"Yeah, a star. Way up in the sky."
She looked up and reached her little arms into the air.
"Big Moon. Little Star," she said.
"That's right, buddy."

It quickly grew darker and we watched as more stars appeared.

"Notha one mommy. Notha one."

I sat down on the driveway and Ella followed suit. At some point, we found ourselves lying on the driveway, hand in hand, watching the sky fill up with sparkles. We sang "Twinkle Twinkle" a few times until the night was illuminated with more than just stars.

And there we were, Big Moon and Little Star, counting our blessings.

Bubbles and Rain

There are many challenges that come with having a child, especially a "spirited one" like mine, but also many gifts. One gift is that you get to enjoy the whimsy and pleasure of childhood all over again.

This morning, as I made my way towards the kitchen for a much needed cup of coffee, Ella B banged against the kitchen door, begging me to take her outside. "But it's raining," I thought, "and it's 5:30" and, "I'm wearing a nightgown." But Beezer didn't care about any of that. She only knew that she needed to go outside and pleaded with me like a puppy dog with a leash in its mouth.

So, Beezer and I sat on the porch and watched the rain, and I blew bubbles while she chased them. She squealed with delight as she popped each one with her tiny fingers or chased an errant bubble until it disappeared into the sky. And she was so happy, and I was happy because she was happy.

People who don't spend time with kids don't get to experience moments like this. We are all genuinely far too busy with life to waste time blowing bubbles and watching the rain. But part of my life, the best part, is out there on that porch, and if it weren't for Beezer, I'd be missing it.

Ella reminds me of how wide and wonderful this world is, and without even knowing it, she gives me that gift everyday.

Thanks Beeze. I love you.