Dream a little dream...

While I was pregnant I had these ideas in my head of certain moments, these particular instances that I daydreamed about again and again. I thought about bringing our baby home from the hospital on that very first day, I imagined what it would be like to hold him in my arms and rock him to sleep, I thought a lot about reading books and singing songs and just looking down at that tiny face I hadn't yet met. There were so many little dreams- dreams of first laughs, first steps, and even just visions of simple, quiet moments.

But daydreams and preconceived notions aside, nothing prepares you for those moments actually coming to life. The sheer beauty and magnitude of the feelings that overwhelm you when you do hear your baby laugh for the first time, the excitement of seeing those first steps, the first words, the feel of the peaceful, dim room as you rock your baby to sleep, putting him to bed, in disbelief that you could ever love him more...and that daily surprise as you wake to that sunshine-face the next morning and found that your heart has somehow doubled in size overnight, again (and again and again).

The other afternoon Hank and I went into Henry's room to check on him. It was the end of his nap and he was sleeping so soundly, curled up with his bum in the air, mouth open. Hank and I stared down at him, smack dab in the middle of one of those little moments in life that you know will always be something special to you, the kind you try so hard to file away in your mind. There he was, our sleeping Henry, half of me and half of Hank, a perfect mix of us both. And I thought about how somehow in this crazy universe, two people from two different places were in the same place at the same time, fell in love and had a baby. And now, almost eight years after that first summer date there we were, looking down at our son as he slept. It one of those times as a parent that you do daydream about - one of those times I absolutely envisioned the moment I got pregnant- and there we were in its reality, reveling in its beautiful simplicity, whispering, "we made this, this is our son." And so I pressed pause for just a second, taking it all in, thinking about how crazy it was to be right here in Henry's room, living this little dream I had always wished for.

On Being Vain and Weird and Silly

A couple weeks ago we spent the weekend at my parents', and towards the end of our lazy Sunday I got out a huge box of un-albumed photos my Mom had hidden away in her closet. This was the first time I had seen many of these pictures, and I was in awe. She'd always been good about putting photographs into albums, but somehow this box of photos hadn't made it into one of the many books my Mom had put together over the years. There were pictures of my parents on their wedding day, photos of my grandparents under big willow trees. There was me as an infant in my Dad's arms, hundreds of photos of my sister and me, hundreds of photos of everything in our life that now stands as a memory.

I pored over them. I was lost, entranced for hours looking through so many new-to-me moments, flooded with both nostalgia and happiness. I had never seen a pregnant photo of my mother and I hadn't seen too many of these candid shots of so many of the people I love, from years and years back. It was one of the best Sundays I'd ever had at my parents'.

Later that night as we made the two hour drive home I found myself looking through my Flickr album via my phone, while Hank listened to a basketball game on the radio. I saw the kinds of pictures that Henry might one day treasure- small moments, happy smiles, candid shots. And I thought about the fact that I had hundreds, thousands more on my computer, some even better than the ones I chose to put on my Flickr but didn't for one reason or another, usually involving the way I thought I looked in them.

There are so many times I'll go through my own photos and see such great moments, but end up hating them because I don't like the way I look. It came to me on that drive home that after going through every single one of those photos at my parents', there wasn't one time where I thought "gee, my Mom sure has a double chin from that angle" or "she should have put one hand on her hip so her arm didn't flatten against her body and look kind of chubby." Of course nothing like that crossed my mind. And why would it? I was focused so much on the love in those memories that my Mom could have had three heads and it wouldn't have mattered.

So for now I am learning to love all of the photos we take for what they are, little snapshots of happy times, and learning not to be so critical of myself. No one cares that my hair is out of place or my round face looks even rounder when I smile in that certain way, or that I have no makeup on Easter morning or a stain on my shirt from a family dinner. I'm a perfectionist by nature and my own worst critic, but I'm learning that perfectionism does not mesh well with motherhood. So as hard as it is, I'm slowly working on letting go of feeling like everything has to be just so.

When Henry and I got home today I uploaded a bunch of photos from our day. There were so many I adored- so many photos where we were both laughing so hard, smiling with our whole faces- and of course my initial reaction was to be overly critical of myself.  But I thought back to that weekend at my parents', looking at those photographs, and I realized that all of these pictures we take aren't about me. They're about the memory. And being vain and weird and silly about them is well, vain and weird and silly.

And so I remind myself of what's important- that Henry will one day look at all of the photos of us and see a happy mama and the happiest baby boy. He will not see the imaginary double chin I decided I had in a certain photo, or the way my thighs look a bit too thick for my liking in another. He'll see smiles, and crinkled eyes, and so much love. And to me, that's all that matters.

Father & Son

Don't marry a man unless you would be proud to have a son exactly like him.

Sometimes there will be these moments of bright clarity in the middle of play. I'll see Hank and Henry together, smiles and laughter, the sheer joy they bring to each others' lives so apparent, and it stops me dead in my tracks. Hank is a great man; he is kind, compassionate, loving, and truly sees the joy in every little thing. And because of all that and more, he is a wonderful father. Seeing the man I love as a parent has been one of the most beautiful things about becoming a mother, and it's the little moments like the one captured above, that I live for.

Growing up I dated a lot. I dated all sorts of guys; nice guys, overly nice guys, fun guys, some not-so-fun guys, and a handful of jerks too. When I was much younger, and before I figured out that I was worth being made a priority, I found myself trying to make something out of nothing a few too many times. But I wised up, I figured it out. I started to look at my parents' relationship, happily married for 30+ years, and I thought about who I wanted to end up with, what he would be like.

Before I met Hank I had sworn off serious relationships. I was 21 and enjoyed being "free"- I loved dating and preferred to do as I pleased, without taking into consideration anyone else as a major part of my life outside my family and friends. But my entire world shifted when I met my future husband, and suddenly here was someone that I could almost immediately see in my future, as scary as that seemed in the moment.

Those years went by so quickly- we fell in love, I relocated to his small town, we moved in together, we got engaged. And there is one thing I remember so distinctly from our engagement party, a specific moment that stands out above all of the laughter and stories and food we shared that night.  A good friend of mine pulled me aside and told me that her mother once said to her, "Don't marry a man unless you would be proud to have a son exactly like him." She wanted to share this with me because she knew that any son of ours would be as wonderful as the best guy we all knew, and she was so happy and excited for our future together.

I think back to this day often, and that quote has stayed with me through the years. Every time I see Hank and Henry kicking a soccer ball, playing with blocks in the middle of the living room, or even reading a story together, I'm reminded. I see my little man trying to emulating my big man- trying on his shoes, the "dada dada dada," the way he lights up when Hank comes in the door after work. And sometimes, I'll see that little twinkle in Henry's eye when he's about to do something funny and I am reminded 100% of his sweet father. Henry is so young, but I can already see how kind he is, how warm and affectionate his heart is, and how silly and fun his spirit can be. It's amazing. I'm raising a boy who is going to be just like the man I married, and for this, I couldn't be happier.

Little bits of memory

I can still remember the beginning. That nervous anticipation during those first few long drives to visit Hank, my hands tapping on the steering wheel, my eyes in the rear view mirror checking and rechecking to see if I still looked alright. It was the beginning of our relationship and we lived two and a half hours apart, so I would often find myself making the trek from Phoenix, up the I-17 and into the mountains. That very first drive up is still so fresh in my mind; the Jets to Brazil I had on the stereo, my cracked window, the fresh August air that evening, and me, trying to relax when I was so, so nervous. It almost seemed too good to be true- everything was falling slowly into place, somehow. And then, after talking for hours and hours every night for weeks, writing so many letters back and forth, and finally going on our first date, Hank had invited me up to visit him in his little town. 

It's strange to go back to the beginning of us. It will be eight years this summer and parts of it seem so far away, and yet other moments I can remember in such crisp detail. If I think back I can still see Hank's first date outfit- his jeans, his American Nightmare hoodie, those Vans. I can immediately recall a handful of mornings waking up with him to the Weakerthans he set for our alarm, tangled blankets and tattooed limbs. I can remember the night Hank asked me to marry him, the way the stars shined so, so brightly in that clear February night, the way my breath blew out like smoke and our voices echoed in the empty square. I think back to our first apartment, the smell of new paint and cardboard boxes, and our second, the smell of fresh cut grass through the open windows. I can go back to our wedding day and remember looking down the aisle at Hank through the yellow and the white and all of our family and friends, all the way to the very end, to him waiting there for me. And I can see him when Henry was born, joy filling every corner of his face.

Memories are funny things. They change over time, they shift, they adapt. We keep what we want, small segments of our days, and the rest dissipates into a hazy fog. I hold tight to the things I want to remember- I take a second and try to capture it, all of it. My memories often feel so cloudy, floating in my mind, but then I'll be reminded of something, and one crystal clear moment will bob to the top, up and down, little bits and pieces becoming more clear.  With Hank I have eight years of these memories, good times and bad, trips and vacations and so much togetherness. My life has a distinct marker, a before and an after, and it's amazing to think about everywhere we've been, and to imagine everywhere we're going. And sometimes, when the weather is just right, I can crack my window, turn up the music, and I'm right back there again, 21-years-old at the very beginning.

We were one tree and not two...

This morning I woke up feeling so thankful for all of this beautiful-ness in my world. My family. The love that surrounds me. Opportunity. The ability I have to make changes, to move forward, and to live how I'd like. Freedom. And I got to thinking about how this one go-round is all about relationships- the connections we make with others- and I thought about all of the people in my life I consider the closest. So naturally I thought about Hank. I thought about what a good man he is, how kind-hearted he is, what a good father he is. I sat there for a minute, thinking about this husband of mine, lost in these lovely thoughts...and spilled hot tea all down the front of my chest. Ow. All happy thoughts flew out of my mind as a few curse words came flying out...but for a moment it was a beautiful. ;) Somewhere in there though I remembered this quote. I came upon it a few years back and I revisit it from time to time. It's about true love, and to me, it's perfect. And I think you'll like it too.

"Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossoms had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two."

-Louis de Bernières

Family photos with Christina Heaston, take two!

You all might remember our first round of family photos that our friend Christina Heaston shot for us. I absolutely loved them, but I was just a handful of months post-baby and not yet feeling like myself. She still somehow managed to capture so many great photographs though, and we have them hanging all around our house. This session though I was feeling much more like me, and I'm even happier with them, if that's even possible! Now if only we could photoshop one of Henry's goofy grins onto all the photos! haha. But really, he was a trooper, hanging out for over three hours while we explored Sedona, AZ with Christina and her boyfriend Bobby.

If you're looking for a photographer for any occasion, I highly recommend Christina. She is extremely talented, so professional, and a great friend of ours. Thank you again Christina for capturing such a great time in my family's life- we will cherish them forever and we can't wait until next time.

Danny & Janay's Wedding

Last night two of our long, long-time friends Danny and Janay got married at The Farmhouse at Schnepf Farms. In true Janay fashion the celebration was perfect, down to the last detail. The celebration was picnic-themed, and one of the most adorable and beautiful weddings I've ever been to.  A few of my favorite things: pie instead of wedding cake, lemonade in mason jars, the vintage handkercheifs when you walked in ("for happy tears"), the bridesmaids in cardigans and cowboy boots, the groomsmen in bowties, and all of the little touches that were so distinctly them.

The night ended with s'mores around the fire and hayrides around the farm, and I couldn't have imagined a better way to send those two off on their Hawaiian honeymoon! Congratulations again, Danny and Janay!