Either Way

So, I'm back again to hijack my own blog for a few weeks. Though, let's be honest, can you really hijack an abandoned building? Anyway, a blog called "You and Me and Ella B" might not be the right place for the posts that will follow over the next couple of weeks, but would you want to read a blog titled "Me and My Super Annoying Uterus"? No, I didn't think so, though that would be the perfect title because my super annoying, totally lame uterus is the subject of this new series of posts..... still there? Great. Then let's gets started.

As many of you know, Mike and I have been trying to conceive our second child for almost two years now. We tried on our own for a year and then completed three failed IUI's (Inseminations) last summer. Since then, we've continued trying on our own, hoping for the best, but knowing that IVF (In-vitro fertilization) was the eventual end route.

So, here we are, two years later. It's hard to believe that I thought I'd have a one-year-old by now. It's hard to believe that I have spent two years wishing and hoping and waiting. Mostly, I can't believe how much this has consumed and affected my life for the past two years. I was shocked to not fall pregnant immediately. After all, we got pregnant right away with Ella, and pregnancy was something I completely took for granted. I felt bad for my friends and relatives who struggled to conceive, knowing that would never be me. And here I am, two years of trying, three failed IUI's, countless blood tests, ultrasounds, needles, uterus scraping, hours spent hopeful, and just as many hours spent disappointed.

Infertility is a unique kind of pain. It is not a sharp pain that slowly disappears over time. It is a pain that rises and falls to a regular beat. Each month brings hope, and each month leaves you more disappointed, feeling like that idiot girl who keeps chasing after a boy who doesn't want her. The darkest time was after our third failed IUI. Because I have conceived a child naturally, and because there are no known fertility issues with either of us, the doctor and nurses assured me that the insemination would be successful. To hear the doctor say that he was shocked it didn't work was disconcerting to say the least. Before that, I had been upset that it was taking so long for me to get pregnant, but it wasn't until that moment that I began to fear not simply "when" but "if" I would get pregnant again. The realization that this might not happen for us hit me hard. I could not help feeling that if I didn't get pregnant again that something would be missing from my life. As with many elements of motherhood, this feeling lead only to guilt and shame. What kind of mother and wife am I if I don't feel like my husband and child are enough? What right do I have to be sad when the world has given me so many blessings?

I had to learn to navigate these feelings and find a duality somehow. I had to learn that I can both feel a longing for something out of reach, and joy in what I already have. This has been a struggle, but one that I think I've come close to overcoming.

A few weeks ago Mike and I were working in the yard. Ella was playing by herself (she just learned how to swing without help- thank the lord), and we were both actually getting stuff done, something everyone who has children knows rarely happens. It was a beautiful day, and I was gardening in the sunshine, and I suddenly felt like, "This is good. This is a nice life. Things could be just like this, and it would  be okay." That was the first time in two years that I had felt that way- that I didn't need another child to complete my life. My life is complete. It will get better and worse all the time. That's the nature of life, but there is no missing puzzle piece under the couch that will make everything perfect. Another child certainly won't make my life perfect. Do you know what babies are like?! They definitely don't make life easier. Another child would be a blessing, the beginning of a new, difficult, frustrating, and satisfying puzzle. I hope I receive that puzzle as a gift one day soon, but maybe, just maybe, it's okay if I never get it.

This might, then, seem like a strange time to begin IVF, but I actually think it's the perfect time. I've been so afraid to do it because I know it's the last option. If it doesn't work, then we will probably never get pregnant, and I'm afraid of what that finality will do to me. I've finally gotten to a good place, and part of me is reluctant to enter this emotional roller coaster again. But I'm starting to look at it with fresh eyes, to understand that this journey may lead to a wonderful gift, a gift I will appreciate way more than I could have two years ago, but the worst thing that could possibly happen is that I'll have exactly what I have right now, and that's a lot. 

So, here we go. First night of injections down. Wish us luck. Check back in if you're so inclined, and thanks for listening.

Christmas Part 2

Okay, so it's mid-January and I'm still finishing my Christmas post. I know, I know, wrap it up Bonaldo. So, as I said, Christmas was pretty special this year, and not just because it was the first Christmas where Ella really understood all the magic and whatnot, but also because we had Mike's brother Tony, his wife Lisa, and their almost thirteen-year-old daughter Madelyn with us for the whole week. You may remember them from the blog post "Sweet Home from Alabama" way back in August of 2011 when we went to visit them in Alabama. Well, this time they came to us, saw our house for the first time, met most of my extended family and friends, and got to spend the craziness that was Christmas Day with us. We'd never had house guests before, so I was a little nervous about how things would go, how Ella would react, how I would get my house cleaned in time, etc., but everything ended up being pretty effortless (well, not the cleaning part, but everything else). We had a great time hanging out, eating lots of food, drinking a lot of wine, and marveling at the ridiculousness that is Ella B. They got such a kick out of her, and it was great for them to be here long enough for her to get comfortable with them. The only down side was that poor Madelyn had the flu and spent almost the whole week sleeping. We couldn't even wake her up to see the snow, and Ella kept asking, "Where's the girl from the couch?" Luckily, she was able to pull it together to head to New York and see Times Square and Rockefeller Center for the first time. That and the Taylor Swift tickets she got from her parents made her Christmas pretty awesome, anyway.

After everyone left, we cleaned up the house, threw out the leftover Christmas food, and got back to reality. It was nice to have a (somewhat) quiet house again, but I have to say that it made me realize how much I love a house full of people and laughter and food and noise. It was the first year that I was really bummed that the Christmas season was over, and I really am looking forward to many more years of that fullness.

PS- I totally want to add a bunch of pictures to this post, but for some reason, blogger is letting me. I'll try to figure it out!

Counting my Blessings

I probably shouldn't be blogging right now. I should probably wait until tomorrow when I'm less emotional, less distraught over the events of the day, when there is less of an ache in my heart, but I'm not sure I'll feel any different tomorrow or the next day. So, I might as well try to get my feelings out, and I apologize to all of you if this ends up being a rambling mess of snot and keystrokes...

Today is a day I will never forget. I have lived through 9/11, a ten-year war that my husband fought in, and countless other acts of violence both in the U.S. and abroad, but today is still a day I will never forget. Today, twenty children were murdered along with six teachers by a man with so much anger in his heart he couldn't contain it. It happened at an elementary school at 9:30 this morning, while I was teaching my own set of students just a few miles away. We were talking about All Quiet on the Western Front, and how the war forces Paul to lose his innocence before he is ready. At that moment eighteen children lost their lives, and the rest of the children in that school, the ones hearing the gunshots and the screams, they lost something else too. They lost that precious, fleeting time that allows you to believe the world is good and pure and that bad things don't happen to good people.

I've been sad about a lot of things today. I'm sad about all those families that were destroyed in an instant. I'm sad that one man has the power to end that much life. And I'm sad for all those children who will be afraid to go back to school, who won't want to go to bed tonight, who will ask what happened to their friends. And I feel sad for the parents who will have to figure out how to explain the unexplainable to a six-year-old. What do you say to your child when you can't understand it yourself?

Ever since I heard the news this morning, I've been dying to get to Ella, to hold her in my arms, and I thought about all the times she's driven me crazy in the morning and how we've argued over getting dressed or brushing her hair. I thought about all these little kids and how their parents never could have known that this was the last morning they'd ever put their children's coats on or pack their lunches, or send them off to school with an "I love you."

We all know that these moments with our children are precious, but we are human and the rigors of our daily lives can get in the way of remembering. We cannot spend every moment appreciating our lives, but then, something like this happens. A parent's worst nightmare happens to someone else, and it serves as a wake-up call to you, and you remember that precious, delicate thing in the other room, that thing that drives you crazy, but also turns the very wheels that make your heart work.

I know this is all so overly sentimental, and if a student handed this in as an essay, that's just what I'd tell her, but that doesn't matter today. Today I love my little girl in all the most cliche ways. Today I am a mother more than anything else. Today I am counting my blessings like never before. Today my words are not original, but I feel them more truly than ever.

All my thoughts and prayers are with the families suffering tonight. May you find solace in eachother's arms and know that this corner of the world is dreaming of you.

Priceless

One Kindle Fire...$199.99

Watching a two-year-old teach her grandmother how to play Angry Birds...priceless

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

My Hero (all over again)

I'm reposting this blog entry from last year because it pretty much sums up how I feel. Happy Veteran's Day, my love: 

Today is Veteran's Day and for those of you who don't know, my husband is a veteran. It sounds like a funny thing to call someone who is 31 (almost 32). Growing up, veterans were old men like my grandfather who wore military hats and talked about a war that happened a million years ago and didn't matter all that much anymore. Being a hippy pacifist myself, I never expected to be married to someone who was in the military or who had actually fought in war. And I never expected to have to explain to my daughter what it means to have a dad who is a war hero. Of course, she is too little to understand today, but one day, maybe on a day like today, I will ask her why she has the day off from school and if she knows what it means to be a veteran.

When you think about raising children, you think about how honest you want to be with them. You want them to trust you and to make them feel connected to you, but you also don't want to tell them every last detail about high school, either. You want them to hold on to their innocence for as long as possible, but to also educate them about the reality of life outside of their safe little bubbles. So, the discussion of war is a tricky one then. What does it means to be a veteran? It means that you have fought in a war. And what does that mean, to fight? There is the Hollywood version of war we're all use to, of course, but what does it really look like? It means things like- sleeping in the dirt, carrying an enormous pack for hours on end, writing letters to loved ones, sitting around doing nothing sometimes, being afraid, being tired, and it also means a lot of other ugly things that we don't like to think about.

So what do I want Ella to know about her daddy, the veteran? I want her to know that he did something harder than I could ever imagine. I want her to know that he is brave and strong (though she already knows this). I want her to know that the experience of war changed him, as it changes ever single person who experiences it, and that it isn't something to be taken lightly as I took my own grandfather's service for so many years. I want her to know that being a veteran will always be a part of who he is, but that it is only one part of the man who is her father. And I want her to know that I'm proud of him.

It's not always fun to be right.

From my earlier posts, you know that my husband is a fearless, "Sure, why not" kind of guy, while I am more of a, "Gosh, I don't know" sort of girl. This helps to balance our relationship, but it also causes a lot of strife. A few weeks ago, our friend Alex organized a little camping trip with some other parents and kids and invited us to go along. That's right. Camping. Outside. In a tent. With a two-year-old. Don't get me wrong. I love to camp. I am happier in the woods than just about anywhere else, but that red-flag side of my personality came to life and squealed, "Ella going to sleep in a tent? This is going to be a complete disaster." To which my husband replied, "You think everything is going to be a disaster." Cue the giant fight in the car. I'll spare you the details, but ultimately Mike won and soon we were camping bound with our tent and a tiny little sleeping bag for Miss Ella B. 

Now, the title of this post indicates that I was right. I was and I wasn't. Let's begin with the wasn't part. Camping was not a disaster. We swam in the lake, took a family boat ride, roasted marshmallows, made new friends, and overall, had a really awesome time as indicated below.

Super excited about the boat ride and the life jacket. Also, she is obsessed with her water shoes and wants to wear them everyday. She now calls Target the "water shoes" store.

Eating lunch with her new friends Emmett, Ned, and Finn

In her new camping chair, ready to make her first s'more.

With Larry

Caterpillar

 These pictures definitely prove that our camping trip was mostly a success. Ella had a great time and so did we. The failure part came as the sun began to set. All day she was in love with the idea of sleeping in a tent. She loved her little sleeping bag and the idea that mommy and daddy would be sleeping right next to her. She loved hiding and playing in the tent and thought the whole thing was pretty great, until, of course, it was actually time to sleep in the tent. We read books, we pretended to go to sleep with her, we let her stay up late in hopes that she would pass out, but she was having none of it. She finally looked at Mike and said, "Want to go home," with these big tired eyes. Quite shockingly, Mike looked at me and said, "You were right. I was wrong." Now, these are not easy words for my husband to say. I'm glad I was sitting at the time or I might have fallen right over. I was right. She wasn't ready to sleep in a tent, so Mike packed her up, put her in the car and drove home. He told me to stay and enjoy myself and that he'd come back in the morning.

As I watched his tail lights disappear behind the trees, I should have been thrilled. Not only did my husband admit that I was right about something, but he also gave me the whole night off to enjoy with my friends. So why did I feel so defeated as they drove away? Because sometimes you really do hope you are wrong. As much as I can't stand to hear him say, "See, she's fine," whenever Ella succeeds at something I don't think she is ready for, it is always worth it because it means we are doing something fun together. The truth is, I would have gladly traded my "rightness" to have my little family sleeping together in that tent so I could wake up to her smiling face right next to me.

I went to bed feeling a little sad and a little lonely, but in the morning, when Mike and Ella returned, I remembered that camping is not just about sleeping in a tent. It's about campfires, and caterpillars, and swimming, and getting good and dirty, and laughing with friends. Ella may not be ready to sleep in a tent, but she is ready for the fun of a camping trip, and she enjoyed every minute of it.

This time around, I was mostly right. I can only hope that next time I'll be completely wrong. That would be the best.

Relaxicab- an ode to my husband

If you know me and you know my husband, then you know how different we are. He's a math guy. I'm a word girl. He is the most innately athletic guy I know; I throw like an injured turtle. He likes to listen to music in the car. I like to talk, and play games, and plan our future, and discuss dinner for the next week.

These differences can often result in conflict (we're different about how we fight, too. He's a yeller; I'm a crier) and having different personalities and different upbringings can often make co-parenting a challenge. However, it can also help create balance and harmony, especially when you are "blessed" with a difficult baby.

Before Ella, or BE if you will, I was not nervous about having a baby. The pregnancy was planned, the preparations were in place, and I was totally ready to be a mom. I'd been babysitting since I was 12, I was a nanny all through college, and I had dealt with the whole dirty diaper-vomit-tantrum-night -time-whatever that a baby had to offer. Mike, on the other hand, had never changed a diaper and gagged when he had to empty a litter box. Out of the two of us, I was definitely more confident that I was the more adept parent and assumed I'd have to spend most of my time showing him the ropes of this whole baby thing while rolling my eyes and sighing incredulously.

And then Miss Ella B showed up, all crying and not sleeping at night, and nursing non-stop, and I quickly turned into a weepy, foggy sack of potatoes who didn't know what to do with herself or her baby. I didn't want to go out because I knew she would cry the minute we put her in the car seat. I never put her down because I couldn't stand to hear her cry. I didn't want to supplement with formula because I couldn't accept that my body wasn't making enough milk.

Enter my husband who so wonderfully and so annoyingly knows how to just R...E...L...A...X. Because, you see, the biggest difference between my husband  and me is that I worry and he doesn't. He's the kind of person who will say, "Why worry about things you can't change?" as if I've made a choice to worry, as if I get up in the morning and  think, "Hmmm, what should I do today? Relax and be content with life, or stress out? Ya know what, I think I'll freak out today and feel terrible." This drives me crazy, of course, but I have to remember that he doesn't know what it's like to be an anxious person, so I can't really blame him, and as frustrating as his disposition can be, it's the main thing that got me through those first six months of motherhood.

Because as cheesy as it sounds, he is my rock. He is that solid thing that keeps me (somewhat) sane and reminds me to "Keep Calm and Carry On." He is the one who would look at my tired face and tell me to go to sleep while he rocked Ella. He was the one who made me take her places even though I was nervous she would cry the whole time. He was the one who convinced me that supplementing with formula was not the end of the world. He's the one who made me sleep train her and do all the other hard things that I never would have done on my own.

And he's the one who watched his wife fumble through the first year of motherhood without any semblance of grace and simply said, "relax," and gave me a hug. And to my surprise, that was exactly what I needed.

Memorial Day

 For people who didn't make any plans, we sure ended up having a pretty nice Memorial Day. It all started at the Bethany Memorial Day parade where we parked ourselves in front of the old firehouse and ate fishies and juice. Well, some of us had fishies and juice and others had coffee. On the way there, Ella was getting all excited over this whole "parafe" thing, but once we got there, she couldn't understand why everyone was sitting by the side of the road and clapping at old cars driving by.

 For a while, she was more interested in stuffing herself inside the concert chair bag and calling herself a mermaid.

 Then Pop Pop gave her a better view and she got more into it. When the horses made their way down and she got to pet a pony, she started to really like the "parafe."

 After a good nap (for baby and Dad while Mom graded, per usual), we headed over to Jessica's house for a barbecue and a good soak in the pool. The only fit she threw all day was when we tried to get her out of that pool. She was loving it and kept telling Mike to let go of her. Sorry Beezer, but you don't know how to swim.

We ended the visit with a good ride on Jessica's old tricycle that her dad dragged out of the barn and cleaned up for us. Needless to say, Miss B slept well that night. What a fun day with family and friends.

Wordless Wednesday: Cousins

K.I.M.

A few weeks ago we went to the Maritime Aquarium (or the "K.I.M" as Ella calls it) with Andrea, Steve, Arlo, and Violet. The kids had a great time looking at the fish, turtles, otters, and everything else aquatic. I was most excited about the stingray pool where we got to dip our hands in and touch their slimy backs. Ella kept putting her hands in and saying "touch them, touch them," but as soon as they'd swim over, she would get scared and pull her hands away.

For some reason there was also meerkat exhibit at the aquarium so we got to chill with some cute rodents, too. They had one of those plastic domes underneath the exhibit that we got to sit inside and watch the meerkats from.

We finished with a trip to the gift shop to pick up some pirate tattoos and called it a day. We left at 12:30 and Ella was asleep in her carseat by 12:45. All in all, a pretty successful first trip to the aquarium (I mean, K.I.M). The best part is that now when she swims in the bathtub she likes to say she "swims really fast like an otter." Of course, this has trickled into other parts of her life so that she now does everything "really fast like an otter" such as coloring or mixing eggs for an omelet. As far as she's concerned, otters are the fastest things ever. So, there's that.

Happy New Year

Like everything else, holidays like New Year's Eve are a little different once you have kids. The days of all night parties and drunken debauchery have been replaced by quiet nights at home with good food and good friends, and I couldn't be happier about it. Sure, it would be fun to get all gussied up and actually get to linger over a meal without wondering who's drawing on the couch (it was Ella B in case you were wondering), but honestly, wouldn't you rather enjoy that food in your sweatpants and slippers?

This year, we rang in the new year with a few of our favorite peeps: Christina, Jeremy, and Loreli from love.reverie.life and our neighbors turned BFF's Andrea, Steve, Arlo, and Violet. We made some awesome (and gluten free!) food, tried to force our children to eat it, and finally gave up and stuffed our own faces instead. At around 6:30, we donned some party hats, pulled out the noise makers, and did a traditional new year's countdown before all the kiddies were reluctantly hauled off to bed. As with every other holiday this year, Ella watched our countdown with both amusement and trepidation, like we were some primitive culture in the African bush. Sometimes she even seems to be taking mental notes: (Okay, so on the eve of the new year, you are supposed to eat and drink so much that you feel sick the next day, wear stupid hats, count backwards from ten, and make resolutions for the coming year that you will give up on in two weeks. Got it.)

Perhaps my New Year's resolution should be to try to make it to midnight next year, not because I really care, but because my husband was pretty annoyed with me (i.e. really pissed and trying to force me to stay awake) that I fell asleep watching Fringe at around 11:00. The upside to falling asleep early and sober is that you have enough energy the next day to go for a nice hike with your cousins. So, we spent our New Year's Day on top of the world with Tom, Sam, Nate, and Jacob and it only required a little bit of huffing and puffing and complaining, the former mostly from Michael who was carrying Ella on his back, and the latter from Nate who apparently doesn't really like hiking all that much.

Overall, it was a lovely New Year's Eve and Day spent with people who make us really happy. So, I resolve to keep doing a whole lot of that in 2012.

PS- Ella B said "Happy New Year!" too.

A Gift

It seems a bit cliche to talk about children as these magical fairy people who can turn a frown into a smile with a flick of their wands or infect you with some sort of happiness disease that they carry in their pockets, but sometimes these things are true and bare repeating. Most of you know that my grandmother Charlotte passed away last Friday. Things like this are especially difficult when they happen around the holidays. Everyone kept saying that they hoped we could still find some joy on Christmas despite the circumstances, and the truth is, we did, and it couldn't have happened without the opportunity to witness the pure excitement oozing from every tiny pore of the children in our lives.

My very best girlfriend in the whole world, Jessica, spent the holiday with us and she said that she couldn't wait to watch Ella, Mason, and Izzy open their presents on Christmas morning because it had been such a long time since she had witnessed that excitement with little kids. And it really was something to behold. Izzy, being 4, was the only one able to really verbalize her joy, "a shirt with zebra stripes!" but the looks on Ella and Mason's faces as they opened their Elmo books and tiny trucks spoke volumes without any words. And this is the greatest gift that children give us- the opportunity to remember and experience that kind of joy once again and to forget about everything else and just live in the moment of opening that gift. I cannot say we didn't feel an emptiness that day. I cannot say we didn't feel a wave of emotion every now and then, but I can honestly say that watching the glint in Ella's eyes as she ran through the house chasing her cousins helped me spend a lot more time thinking about life rather than death. That's what Ella B gave me for Christmas. And it was exactly what I wanted.

Wordless Wednesday: Warm and Fuzzy

Thanks!

Dear Ella B,

Yesterday was Thanksgiving, and while I meant to write this then, I was so full of turkey and love that I couldn't lift a finger to the keyboard. So today I will tell you a little story about what I am so thankful for today.

Of course I am thankful for your very existence, and I try to remind myself how lucky I am to have gotten pregnant so easily and to have had such a healthy (albeit grumpy-to-the-max) baby. You have a father who adores you, a million people who dote on you, a home, a backyard, two strong legs, and all of that. These things will be easy to remember, but I started thinking about all the little things I am thankful for that will become fuzzy in years to come and I started to write them down.

So here are a few little things I am thankful for this holiday season that are all thanks to you Miss Ella B:

1. Your dinosaur "rawr"
2. Your Happy Birthday song "Happy day daddy"
3. The way you love to talk about boys, especially Arlo and Nate
4. Weekend morning snuggles in between mommy and daddy in our bed
5. Your post-bath naked craziness on our bed when I am trying to lotion you
6. The way you always say bye to people after they've already left, but never before
7. The way you hold out each body part so I can rinse you off after your bath
8. Your belly- dear God your belly
9. How you always want me to draw cats for you
10. And once again, that dinosaur "rawr" cause it just kills me until I'm dead

Thanks for giving me so much to be thankful for Ella B. I can't believe I get to be your mom.

Wordless Wednesday: Merry Halloween?

Fall Weekend

Had ourselves a lovely little Fall weekend. It all began Saturday morning when this little lady decided to help me make pumpkin muffins. She has become quite a fan of cooking and can't wait to get on the counter and start mixing. That morning was particularly exciting because she realized that something even more fun than stirring the batter is tasting it. Wow, the whole world opened up for her after that. She promptly turned into a pumpkin-muffin-batter monster as you can see in the photograph above. Unfortunately, the muffins didn't turn out so great (apparently baking soda is not an optional ingredient- who knew?), but we sure had fun anyway.

Our bellies full of dense muffins and caramelized onion and mushroom omelets (courtesy of my resident omelet chef, Michael B.) we headed over to Movenastics with the Miss Violet and Andrea. Wendy and the boys joined us, too so we said fair well to the toddler class in style. We had considered going to the Halloween hoot, hence the skeleton pj's, but opted out when I saw how tired Miss B was after all the tumbling and scootering and whatnot, so we left and she promptly passed out in the car.

On Sunday we headed over to Lyman Orchards with Andrea, Steve, Arlo, and Violet and picked up some pumpkins and apples. Arlo was very particular about which pumpkins he wanted, while Ella was more interested in rocks than anything else. She did, however, house 2.5 apples and then pass out in the car once again.

We ended our lovely weekend with Nathan T.'s 6th birthday party, which is always a costume party. Kristy had purchased this super cute garden gnome costume back when she was unable to go to a store without buying Ella a present. Remembering the family costume of my childhood (Candy was Strawberry Shortcake, my parents were Strawberry's parents, and I was a strawberry), I decided we should give it a try. Since Ella was the garden gnome, I became the garden and Mike the gardener (though he kept saying farmer just to spite me).

We wrapped it all up with a handful of candy corn and called it a day. Pretty awesome weekend all around. Hope yours was filled with friends, family, and Fall festivities, too. Happy October!

Ella B and Mason D

Today is my nephew Mason's 1st birthday and it couldn't have been a more beautiful day to spend some time running in the grass, laughing with family and friends, and enjoying a little dump truck shaped cake.

My wise old friend Christina once said, "Nothing reminds you of the passage of time like seeing children grow up." I thought about this at the party today as I watched Mason and Ella play in the yard. I thought about how exactly one year ago we went to the hospital to see the brand new Mason, all shiny and pink, and how Ella was just six months old herself. I took her for a walk in the Baby Bjorn and stumbled upon an old cemetery. It seemed an odd juxtaposition at first- a cemetery right next to a hospital- but maybe because it was such a beautiful day, a day just like this one, it felt like a complement to the new life emerging next door.

And here we are, one year later, and these two little people have changed so much. Their lives have already doubled, while that same year for us seems like just a blip. I can only imagine what the next year will bring. Happy Birthday, little man. I can't wait to keep watching you grow.

Wordless Wednesday: Me and Ella B