Monday, July 29, 2013

promises and an update

there are three blog posts weighing heavily on my blogger conscience - 
the story of blythe and ollie, the tragedy of not having seen them for four years, 
and the glory of our recent reunion (and the pictures), 
a nine-days-in-new-hampshire photo dump from my fancy new camera, 
and the story of heather von st. james, a mom, like me, and yet a mom nothing like me.  
heather has asked me to write about her experience battling mesothelioma as a new mother.  
i hope to properly honor to her courage, strength, and spirit, when i do so.  

until then, here are these two turkeys.  will was recently given a big boy bed, and, so far, it's a disaster.  tomorrow daddy leaves for four days in utah, and our little disaster may turn into an outright calamity.  also, in will news, the boy is obsessed with target.  and i mean obsessed.  on several occasions he has raged for hours and hours, standing at the front door, begging us to take him there.  
i mean, i get it.  i like target too.  but still, little buddy, enough's enough.  


quinn, as you can see, has started eating rice cereal and oatmeal cereal.  
girlfriend seems very content with this development.  


the house continues to come together, 
and i am falling deeper in love with our home and children by the day.  
in the words of my wise friend, anne, this is it. 

this is it, this is it, this is it. 

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

emily + graham

once upon a time, i was very lonely.  i had a fresh new baby boy and we spent long days staring at each other wondering what to do.  i glanced longingly at the mothers in pairs and groups strolling the side walks deep in conversation, and holding one another's children in their arms, and meeting at the park for a picnic.  i ached for that sort of friendship.

i joined play groups and signed up for classes and talked to neighbors but nothing quite stuck.  one day, while trolling the online profiles of moms in the local play group, the little lincoln logs, i came across one that felt vaguely familiar.  stay-at-home mom: check.  on the younger side: check. recently relocated from the east coast: check. baby was a wonderful surprise: check.  this woman was practically me!  in a very uncharacteristic move, i sent this mystery woman an email (isn't it odd how making mom friends is so much like dating?).  a few weeks later we planned to meet in the park.

the thing about emily is, she stands out, in the best way.  she is young and beautiful and impossibly stylish.  i long for her style.  so i spotted her right away at that first meeting.  we sat on a blanket near the swings, and i remember it being a little cloudy, and she was fascinated by the dexterity of will's fingers.  conversation flowed easily and i think we both knew right away that we were on to something good.

for the rest of emily and graham's lincoln square tenure, we spent our days walking and playing and talking.  we strolled the sidewalks deep in conversation, and i held graham and she held will, and we met at the park for picnics (okay, maybe not official picnics, but we laid blankets on wet grass and sat and ate yogurt bites).

and then one day emily said they were moving.  and before we knew it their bags were packed and the apartment was emptied, and they began to make a new home in a house far, far away, in a northern and woody and gorgeous part of michigan's upper peninsula.  

what could have broken our friendship strengthened it.  over the last year will and graham have had countless facetime play dates and real time play dates whenever they come to town.  they've even been known to watch tv together over the phone.  we developed a new routine during their visits: play in the condo and then walk to costello's for some sandwiches and live music.  and when emily first held quinn in her arms, i could see the sparkle of love in her eyes and smile, and i knew more than ever that this friendship is for keeps.

the most special thing about emily, i think, is something that seems to be harder and harder to find in people.  if emily loves you, she lets you know it.  she makes you feel it.  she never hides it.  she hands you her heart and trusts you'll do the same.  

i felt the warm glow of that love on my birthday this year, the day i turned thirty.  emily and graham were blessedly in town and so we scheduled a play date, our first at the new house.  when they arrived, graham was wearing a birthday hat, and emily told me to close my eyes (or at least to not turn around - kids must be watched!) until she had finished setting something up.  when i turned around, my dining room table was overflowing with cakes of all types - seven, to be exact.  toasted almond cake, creme brulee, tiramisu, flourless chocolate cake, a fruit tart.  the list goes on.  she covered them in candles and sang happy birthday and asked our delighted toddlers to help me blow them out.  then she handed me the most thoughtful, kind, affirming birthday card that i have ever read.  i've slept with it in a drawer next to my bed every night since.

i didn't eat every cake emily brought that day, but that wasn't the point.  it was the joyful extravagance of our celebration that made me feel so very special and so very loved.  

you've probably intuited by now that graham is a very lucky little boy, indeed, to be the center of such a mother's world, of such a mother's heart.  and while i'm sure emily is touched that i've said she's beautiful and stylish and loving, i doubt anything could mean more to her than to be told she is a good mother.  and she is.  she is a phenomenal mother.  

this august, i will have the honor of standing beside emily as she marries the love of her life in the presence of their little boy.  i cannot wait.  

and so, the story of emily and graham, and lindsey and will and quinn, continues, as it always will and has, since the day we found each other and decided to hold on tight.  
  
i will always be indebted to emily for taking this photo of me and quinn.  like me, emily tends to hide from cameras, which explains the lack of her presence here, which feels so wrong.  next time, emily, we're taking a picture together.  no excuses.

Sunday, July 7, 2013

laughter and lightning (mcqueen)

 first of all, quinn has discovered her laugh, and it sounds like this?


she has been using her "big girl voice" a lot since discovering her laugh, particularly at bedtime. sistah can be feisty!  who knew? sistah also stopped sleeping through the night. sistah now gets up four times to eat. a sistah gets hungry!
 
   

our first northfield fourth of july was everything i remember and everything it should be, except that daddy was away at a wedding on cape cod and we missed him terribly.  we watched the bike parade and sat in a fire truck and cheered on the races and ate charred hamburgers and one of us ate an ice cream cookie.

                          

                  


the rest of our fourth of july weekend included hoses and baby pools and puppies and nap revolts and tantrums and bug bites and itches and sunscreen and sweat and sand and dancing and, most of all, lightning mcqueen.  because neither will nor mommy can function without a little lightning.