kindred spirits, soul sisters, and so much more.

everything went wrong, and yet everything was exactly right.  our trip to the waterfall was cut short due to a crying baby and slightly ambitious dreams to fit all eight people onto three bicycles, it rained on the neighborhood petting zoo party, and we visited the apple orchard on a "no apple picking" day. peter choked on a hot dog, and quinn woke up nearly every hour, every night.  

but, the missed waterfall led to a stop at the dam, with its barges and elevators and long ramps and waving captains, and our little boys' hearts swelled with glee.  the rained out petting zoo resulted in shared conspiracies to watch another caillou on the ipad, and probably a dinosaur train, too.  the "no apple picking" rule at the apple orchard didn't apply to those deep bins of honeycrips in the barn, which was all our boys wanted anyway.  and peter, well, peter was okay, and anne's heart will be too, though maybe it isn't yet today.  

and quinn.  quinn, in all her indescribable beauty and cuteness and serenity and smiles, was driving mommy off the deep end with her nighttime nursing.  five times on friday night, six on saturday.  and then, anne and i treated ourselves to a special mommy-only dinner on sunday night, which, in itself, renewed my heart and soul in a way that only a dinner with anne could.  during this dinner, during which the dads cared for and put the children to bed, something mysterious and unspeakable occurred.  it's a secret tom, colin, and quinn will take to the grave, and i believe involved some crying, but lo and behold: quinn now sleeps.  nearly through the night.  it's incredible.  i might survive, afterall.

there's a bigger story here, though, than the events of the weekend, which were, in themselves, legendary.  the bigger story is about friendship; friendship in multiple shapes and depths and people. friendship of the heart, which is the best kind, the most real kind, maybe the only kind.  the kind of friendship that makes it all worthwhile, the kind that life is all about.

there's me and anne, of course, and tom and colin, and adam and will, and petey and quinn, but then there's also will and anne, petey and me, tom and quinn, and adam and colin, and so on and so on.  in small moments and big moments, brief hugs and full on kisses, friendship bloomed and flourished and touched us all.  

it's hard to write about, hard to fully capture, because there's an element of the experience, or, more specifically, of the experience of my friendship with anne, which has, for the most part, existed in writing, and has involved and required examining the deepest parts of our worlds and beings; there's an element of it all that surpasses words.  it surpasses language.  it just is, we just are, and that's the way it is.  and it's pretty awesome.

here are a few photos from our weekend in saint paul.  

hauths and moynihans on the hayride at the apple orchard

touring saint paul on bike (not shown: mommy and daddy on the tandem)

so many hugs.

fun at the apple orchard

the start of the train ride (note: will's hand affectionately resting on adam's  leg)

the end of the train ride (note: will's laying down?)

painful goodbyes.  will's protest sit-down and quinny and petey's final embrace.

me and anne.

sometimes a dog bop gets thirsty

see this magical concoction?

this is dog bop's water.  dog bop is will's most special, treasured, precious, stuffed animal/blanky creature.  dog bop sleeps with will every night and has existed since the beginning of time and holds a sacred place in my boy's sensitive and open heart.  and sometimes, apparently, dog bop gets thirsty.

we realized dog bop was thirsty on thursday, when instead of the usual trip to the park or children's museum or errand or play date, we decided to just stay home.  in truth, it was because i was too tired to do anything else, and the compulsion to "get out! get out!" wasn't strong enough to fight my extreme exhaustion.  thank goodness we did stay home, because otherwise we might never have realized 

dog bop needed a drink.

we began with a clear plastic cup, which we decorated with a few choice stickers, and, over the course of an hour, added several magical ingredients that we knew dog bop would love, including oranges and strawberries and corn and broccoli and water and some unspecified mystical gray goo.  when we finally went to give dop bop his first sip, will whispered in the sweetest, most serious little boy voice, 

"dog bop, mommy and i worked very hard on this water for you."  

at that moment my heart exploded and i melted into a puddle of love and gratefulness for that little boy and the time i get to spend with him. for the first time in a long while, i let myself float.  

i let all of it be.  

sometimes, you need to allow for nothingness.  

sometimes, that's where the greatest somethings come from.  

thanks for the reminder, little boy.  i needed it.

there's something happening here

(what it is ain't exactly clear)

call it the evolution of girlfriend, call it the sleep rebellion of 2013, call it crazy baby, call it crazy mama.  whatever you want to call it, it's flipping hard.

take last night, for example.  last night, i put quinn down to bed at 8:00.  i nursed her and popped in the bink and laid her in her crib ("time for cribby, quinnie boo!").  she screamed.  i rubbed her back and popped the bink back in and she rolled about and got an arm caught and got a leg caught and screamed some more.  i put her back in position and popped the bink back in and rubbed her back and avoided eye contact, which invariably leads to a case of the baby giggles.  this went on for twenty minutes until she finally, blessedly, fell asleep.  until 10:30.  quinn woke up screaming at 10:30 and 11:00.  both times i popped the binky back in and she rolled over in her crib and went back to sleep.  at 12:30 she woke and only nursing would do.  so i nursed her.  then she flailed about in the crib for a while so i put her in the swing.  she swung and slept until 3:15, when, again, only nursing would do.  so i nursed her and laid her back in the crib.  she slept in the crib until 5:00, when, again, only nursing would do, but no, the crib would not then do, so the swing it was.  she swung until 6:00, and nursed again, popped in the bink, and slept in her crib until a solid 7:45.

take last night and multiply it by twenty nights plus daily nap battles, and you'll find me, here, exhausted and desperate.  it's a place i know quite well (hello, will).

but really, what's a girlfriend to do?  who wants to sleep when crawling is just a moment away, and baby food is so very, very yummy, and mommy laughs and works for me and daddy sings and will is fascinating, and bean, oh that bean, not enough can be said about that dog bean.  who wants to sleep when you live in a world like that?  i get it, girlfriend, i do.  now go to sleep.

that quinn.  mighty, indeed.