The One With the Things I Love About Olivia (3 Years)

On the day before her third birthday, Grandpa said to Olivia, "Tomorrow is your birthday. You're going to be such a big girl." And she replied, "But I am always going to be my mama's baby."

Oh yes, baby girl, you always will. Even when you are big enough to have your own baby, you'll be my baby. That day will seem very weird because you will be all grown up. And even now three seems too big. I wish I could hold on to you in this stage for just a little longer. But I can't. So, instead, I'll try to remember everything about you that I love so much.

This past year with Olivia has been truly wonderful. There are so many things to love about her. These are just a few of them:

1. The way her eyes squint until they're almost closed when she is really, truly smiling.

2. She loves dresses so much that she has to wear multiple dresses at a time. One is never enough.

3. She is always singing. Always. And the lyrics are hilarious. Sometimes she actually knows all the words to a song surprisingly well. But then she'll start singing "For the first time in forever" (from Frozen) and instead of singing "For the first time in forever there's nothing in my way," she sings "there's noooottthhiiinnnngggg in my hhhhhhhhhheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrttttttttttttttttttt!" And today she was singing a song about Lightning McQueen getting his wheels checked. I asked her what her song was about and she said, "It's called, 'The Pit.'"

4. She loves Lightning McQueen more than anyone has ever loved anything. Okay, probably not really. But she does love him. She has to carry a little Lightning McQueen wherever she goes. And her Auntie Mal even made her a Lightning McQueen princess dress for her birthday - so she can combine her two favorites: princesses and cars. Not many little girls are so lucky!

5. She loves her sister. Their conversations and the way they play together brings me endless joy. They so often play so nicely together. They make believe all the live-long day. They sing songs together. They dance together. They read books together. They play dolls together. They run around in circles and drive me crazy together. When I set their plates on the table they switch them so each can have their preferred color. They bring each other blankets. They always refer to each other as "sweetie."

6. She refers to everyone and everything she loves as "my ______". "My Henry is hungry. Can you get him a snack?" // "Am I going to the beach with my Papa?" // "When is my Mal coming home?"

7. "Glumps." Ever since watching Frozen, Liv has had an affinity for gloves. Or mittens, since they don't really make gloves in her size. She'll wear them anywhere. And even if she only has one, she is happy. And she always calls them "glumps." Which is way too hilarious to correct. Although one day she was having a meltdown because she couldn't find her glumps. Every time she asked me if she could have them I would giggle at her calling them "glumps." And that just made the meltdown that much worse.

8. She is a whirlwind. She is always dancing and spinning and twirling. I think I'll look back on this time and remember her as a blur. A blur of light and laughter and delight so pure and untainted that it glows with possibility. I can tend to get weighed down by existential angst. There are so many terrible things in this world. So many worries I have to deal with as a mother, as an adult, as a conscientious human being. The weight of it can threaten to strangle me. And then she rushes by. A stream of glowing, glittering purple dresses and crazy hair. Grey-green eyes that are always filled with delight. Lips that are always smiling, a belly that is always laughing. Hands that are always loving. If everyone could be like her, this world would be a much better place. She makes me want to be better. To love more and care less about things that don't matter.

9. She loves her daddy. They've always had a special bond. Steve has been traveling a lot for work lately. After a few days of him being out of town I'll here her sigh and say, "I miss my daddy." It breaks my heart and makes me smile at the same time. I'm glad she loves him so much. And when he finally comes home, she curls up in his lap and doesn't get down for anything for a very long time. Ellie and Henry get distracted long before she does.

10. She is always pretending. Many of our conversations go something like this: "Olivia, sit at the table to eat lunch." / "I'm Merida ack-shlee (actually)." / "Okay. Merida, sit at the table." // Olivia: "Okay." // or "Good morning, kiddo." / "Can you call me 'sweetie?'" / "Good morning, sweetie." / "Good morning, mama. I love you." // "Hey mama! I'm Elsa. Can you be my fairy godmother? Can you make me a sparkling dress?"

11. She has a quiet confidence about her. She is not loud, but she is strong. She is smart. She is not afraid. She is comfortable with who and where she is, almost all of the time.

12. She is content. When her great-grandma asked her what she wanted for her birthday, she said, "Nothing." Later she said she wanted some dresses. Because she loves dresses. Of course, when the presents did come she loved them, too. And carries as many as possible with her wherever she goes. But she didn't demand them. She doesn't need them to be happy. We did something right with that kid. (Or maybe we had nothing to do with it. I don't really know how these things work.)

13. She loves cake. Her main concern regarding her birthday was when she was going to get her cake. I made it extra special by making her cake Cars themed. I stayed up late Saturday night to make it for her party. It reminded me of three years ago when I stayed up half the night giving birth to her. (She was born just before 2 am on March 1st.) This end result wasn't nearly as cute, of course, but she loved her cake so very much. I would stay up a lot of nights to making something that made her light up like she did to see her Lightning McQueen cake. (Plus, I like making cakes anyway, so it's a win-win for everyone.)

14. She is thankful. She thanks me for every single thing I ever bring her. Like lunch. Or a blanket. Or if I find a misplaced toy. And when we had a special pizza and movie night for her birthday (Cars 2, of course), she said "Thank you, daddy, for my special movie night," over and over again.

15. She is very helpful when it comes to choosing the correct words for things: "Look, dad, these are my princess dresses." / (Dad:) "Oh, that's cute." / "No, it's not cute. It's beautiful." // or, last week at the beach: "Look, mama, a duck!" / (Mom:) "That's actually a seagull." / "No, I'm right. It's a bird."

16. She likes to pretend to be a baby. Sometimes I find this quite aggravating, because her baby voice is hard to understand. But it always reminds me how quickly this time is passing. How soon she won't ever talk in a pretend baby voice and this stage will be gone, just like that. It reminds me to snuggle her while she's still little, kiss her while she'll still let me. If I could keep her from getting any bigger, I would. But that would mean that I would miss everything wonderful about who she is growing up to be. And I suppose I wouldn't want that at all.

She is an exemplary human being. Steve told me a while back that he hoped to be more like her. She isn't moved by trivial things. She is content and confident, gracious and kind. I'd like to be more like her, too.

Happy Birthday, my Livvy Bug! Let your light shine brightly. Let your feet hardly touch the ground. Wear as many dresses as possible and laugh until you can't anymore. We love you so impossibly much and look forward to each and every day with you. 

The One Where Henry is Eleven Months Old

This month has brought so many changes. Our little Henry Bear is crossing that threshold out of baby-hood. Even though he is still very much a baby, (and a somewhat whiny one at that), he is starting to take his place as the little boy of the family. 

He loves his sisters so much! I've noticed for a while that his cranky part of the day was after his second nap, while his sisters were still napping and it was just me and him. Someone pointed out to me that he is cranky when he misses them. And it's so true! Even when they just go play in their room without him he gets very sad. But put him in the playroom and he his happy as a little jay bird for a long time. It makes me so very happy that they all love each other so much. Although I do have to remind Ellie that she can't force him to lay down in the doll crib (via a head lock) if he doesn't want to pretend to be her baby. 

 

This month he started driving cars on everything. And even driving things that aren't cars. I was kind of excited for this to happen. And he gets really excited about hanging out with guys. He loves me and his sisters plenty. But when Steve is home or a male of any age comes over to our house, Henry is fixated. He could spend hours contentedly sitting with them. And he doesn't sit still very often!

He got his first snow day! We were hit with a regular "snowpocalypse" a few weeks ago that trapped us all indoors for four days. We were going a little crazy. While the snow itself seemed to be too cold for his enjoyment, Henry loved to watch from the window while his sisters played outside. And we were sure to dress him in snowman pajamas so he could enjoy the spirit of the season.

He said "nanana" in direct reference to a banana he wanted to eat. And he loves to eat just about anything. We feed him whatever we're eating, mostly through a "baby-led weaning" approach, although I also feed him with a spoon sometimes when I just don't want to have to give him a bath after dinner. He is very good now at controlling his intake and I can just hand him slices of fruit or veggies and he eats them just fine. 

He's a little ham! He loves to laugh and giggles all day long at the silliest things. He started pretending to talk on the phone (so,so adorable!), and babbles to us non-stop. And he's looking more and more like his dad, which is pretty great, I think.

I love him a lot. And I can't believe he's going to be a whole year old next month!

The One With All the (Retrospective) Apple Picking

I should confess something right now. I'm not very organized. I really wish that I could be. I used to be better. But lately it just seems like my life is moving a million miles an hour and I just grab a camera every once in a while to try and capture the momentum. And then I set the camera down to grab a baby and then the photos get lost in a stream of too many SD cards and upgrading cameras and whatnot. And then something big approaches, like Henry's first birthday, and I try to go back through all the camera cards and files and scour out the photos I took of his first year so I can put them in his first year scrapbook. And along that very frustrating process, I find some other pictures that I've been meaning to share, especially because they were taken with friends, so they are extra fun. And so then I post these very late pictures of apple picking last fall with Melissa and her sweet kids.

And it makes this long, cold, tired-of-being-snowed-in day in February a little brighter.

(Mallory took some, or possibly all, of these pictures. I'm not really sure. I try hard to give credit where credit is due, but August was a long time ago. Melissa gets credit for making the cute kids, though. No arguments there.)

P.S. Daphne has the coolest rainjackets-for-your-shoes ever. I need some of those.

The One With the Waters Family Portraits

So... this happened like last fall sometime. I am not very prompt about publishing portrait sessions to this blog. But alas, I'll fall on that old slogan, "Better late than never." Or something like that.

The One With Stephanie and Ryland's Wedding

Way back before Christmas, our friends Stephanie and Ryland got married! Yay! Steph and I go way back to when Mallory (her maid of honor) introduced us in college. She and Mallory have been friends since preschool and she went to Portland State while Mallory and I went to University of Portland. She's so very lovable that we became fast friends. So when she asked me to be a bridesmaid, I was thrilled! And I also took her "getting ready" pictures. She was such a lovely bride, and it was fun to be a part of her big day! 

And now: fewer words, more pictures...

 

 

She had the cutest flower girls ever, if I do say so myself. 

It was a lovely day and I'm glad I got to be a part!

The One Where Henry is 10 Months Old

Well, HB (Henry Bear/Huge Baby) is ten months old now. It's been a very long and mostly productive month around here. Henry got a whole batch of new teeth and is getting closer and closer to walking. And he is talking up a storm. 

One of my favorite things is listening to how babies acquire language. I find it so interesting that even though he doesn't really have words yet (except "hi" and "bye"), he definitely talks in sentences, knows when you are asking him a question and can reply in a short, one-syllable answer a lot like, "yeah."

His happiest time of the day is when he's eating. And if you tell him that it is dinner time he goes over and stands by his high-chair so he can sit at the table with everyone else.

Henry is having so much fun these days playing with his sisters. And they are usually nice to him. And occasionally Ellie tackles him to the ground. But someone's got to teach him to be tough. If not her, then who?

He is a born adventurer. If anyone gets near the door with their coat on he races over as fast as he can and wants to be picked up. Then he waves good-bye so whoever is still in the house so he can go. It's very cute.

When he is happy, he is very happy. And when he is sad, he is very sad. It's hard to be 10 months old sometimes. But at least he's really cute while he's at it.

He's one slobbery little love bug these days. And we're glad he's a part of our little family.

On Losing Candace (One Year Later)

Today marks the first anniversary of my sister's death. Has it really been a year? It seems like yesterday. It seems long ago. It seems impossible. It seems mundane. It's strange to have one day in your life which you can point to and say, "That's when it changed." Of course, not everything changed dramatically. But since she left us, everything has been coated in a layer of sorrow. Sometimes the dust is so thick I can't see what's underneath. At other times, it only thinly veils something really enjoyable, delightful even.

In December of 2012, I read The Time Traveler's Wife. I didn't know then how much the story of the ill-fated lovers would prepare me for the year ahead. That beautiful book made me fall in love with sadness. Audrey Niffenegger's words showed me how wonderful tragedy can be in it's own way - because it fills us with awe at everything good we would have just taken for granted. I'm not saying that the tragic thing itself is anything we have to be happy about, but if we let it, sorrow can increase our joy by magnifying our feelings of it.

It only hurts so much because I loved her so much. Because she was a part of me and I was a part of her. I could be endlessly bitter about that pain. But I can't bring her back. So instead I'm going to be grateful I had someone to love so much.

In a whole year of grief, sometimes unbearably hard, sometimes a new piece of my regular existence, I have learned to be immensely thankful for the 21 years I had with Candace. For all the lives she touched and the way she made her world a little better. She had her struggles. She had her pain. She even caused pain. Because we all do. But I wouldn't give any of that up to not have her at all.

We can't chose how people treat us. We can't choose when or how the ones we love will leave us. We can't even change how they perceive the relationship we share with them. But we can chose to love them anyway. We can to choose to support them in their struggles. To listen and try to understand the pain - and maybe make it easier to bear by sharing.

***

Dearest Candace,

I can't believe it's been a year since you left us. I won't be able to believe it next January when it'll be 2 years, or the one after that when it'll be 3 years. No amount of time will lessen the disbelief. Maybe it won't lessen the pain either. Although it's always changing, for me it's like a dull, perpetual ache right now. Like when you're feet hurt from walking in heels but you don't notice until you sit down. And then you can't stop noticing.

It's crazy how you can be everywhere and nowhere all at once. I try to remember every detail, but they're already fading. I don't want the only thing left to be the hole created by your absence. I won't let it be. I'll keep remembering. I'll keeping seeing you and looking for you. I'll keep you close in my heart and forever on my mind.

Yesterday I went to that Cinnabon in the mall. Remember the one we ate cinnamon rolls at while Mom and Dennis shopped for rings? I wish we could be there together. We could laugh at how hard it is to eat so much sticky sugar with such flimsy plastic silverware. But instead of us laughing together I was there alone, threatening to burst into tears in the middle of the mall.

I miss you. I miss the part of me that was made up by your life, by your love. Sisters have a special bond no one else can understand. A bond that comes from sharing everything in life. There's nothing that can replace it when it is taken away.

If I could talk to you now I would ask you so many unanswered questions. I would say so many unsaid thanks. Tell you my fondest memories.

Do you know the earliest thing I can remember is playing with you under the dining room table on that nasty orange carpet? Remember that stuff? It was awful. And I also remember coming upstairs one night wearing that old Little Mermaid shirt. You must have still been up in the nursery because I told mom and dad I was lonely and I wanted someone to come sleep with me. And then when we finally did share a room, I crawled into your bed so many nights. You filled that first void, relieved that first feeling of loneliness. You became like a second nature. Just being with you lessened my fears and gave me confidence.

It makes me so happy to see Ellie and Olivia together. They're always singing and dancing just like we did. They hardly leave each other's side. It makes me think of you and long for you. Long to tell you that I'm sorry for the ways that I hurt you. That I'm sorry for being so selfish and stubborn. I wish I could thank you for being so thoughtful and generous - a perfect opposite of me.

I wish I could have seen a way to help you. I wish I could tell you how beautiful you are. What a kind heart you have. How proud I am of you for making the difficult decisions that you did.

Many memories have flooded back to me throughout this year. A few months ago I came across a little monogrammed bag you gave me for my first trip to Mexico when I was 13. You were only eleven, but I remember you saying you didn't have much, but you wanted to get me something that I needed for my trip. I used that little bag to keep my necessities in on that trip and over the years it has many different uses. I have come to take it for granted. But when I found it the other day that simple act of generosity and kindness overwhelmed me.

It's these little things, these moments almost lost to time, that I carry with me. The love we shared, the five of us, will always be a part of me. No matter where I go, it will always be a part of who I am.

Thank you for being a part of my life and a part of me. Thank you for loving me. Though you are gone from sight you are never gone from my heart and mind. I love you now and forever. And I'll be missing you until I join you someday.

To sign off I'll take a line from one of our favorite movies, "...with a loving guarantee, that even if we part, I will hold you close with a thankful heart."

Love you always.

P.S. To anyone who has read these posts, who has shown us their love and support this past year in any number of ways - thank you. I realize that in the blinding flurry of grief we may not have actually expressed how much your kind words meant to us. But all of them have been re-read many times. Your thoughtfulness has brought us comfort in this storm. You and your love have not gone unnoticed, but have been deeply felt and embraced. Thank you.