on anger

taken December 7th

The stages of grief go something like this:
Denial
Anger
Bargaining
Depression
Acceptance

I feel very stuck at anger.  I know that grief is not a straight line.  I know that it won't be linear and a constant forward progression.  I know that I might take two steps forward and stumble three steps back.  I know that I don't magically wake up one morning, check the box on anger and move on to bargaining. But what I wouldn't give to fast forward to a place of peace.

I do feel the bargaining, and I do feel the depression, but I always go back to anger.  And not just anger at our situation and loss, but anger towards EVERYTHING.  Anger towards strangers posting pictures of their dinner on Instagram because: DON'T THEY KNOW SOMETHING BAD HAS HAPPENED TO ME??  I know, grief is very irrational.  Stupid grief.

The truth is that I am doing ok.  Most days I can go through the motions of being a mama to Fletcher and Rowan, and even sometimes take pleasure in something that we're doing.  Even laugh out loud at some of the funny Fletcherisms that have been pouring from Fletcher.  Even sit down as a family and play a game of Go Fish and laugh til I cry.  That means something.  That means that I am moving forward.  That I am not being swallowed whole by grief.  But I just cannot shake this pervasive anger.

I am so very angry that I no longer have a delicious baby belly like in the picture above.  And that I don't feel the baby gymnastics that go on inside.  And that in 3 1/2 months I will not be holding a sweet little bundle and breathing in that wonderful scent of newborn.  I feel so angry that I can't make a definitive decision about the future because one minute all I want is to fill this baby void and the next I know that I cannot possibly subject myself to such heartache ever again.  I feel so angry that I have to miss someone so much, that I didn't even get a chance to know.

So there it is.  I'm stuck at anger, and it's a pretty ugly, irrational place to be.  But I am having flashes of normalcy creeping in, so I am ever hopeful that I become dislodged for good.  And soon.

early morning

Now that the littles have to wake up early for school, I set my alarm a half hour before they have to get up.  Some days I hit the snooze button until it's time to wake them up, but some days I actually get up with the alarm.  And it is always rewarding.  I pour myself a cup of coffee in a favorite cup.  I say one last goodbye to the moon before she slips away from the rising sun.

I linger over whatever produce our gardens are giving.  Mostly they are giving weeds after a summer full of trips away, but some of the plants grow heartily, giving peppers, tomatoes, and watermelons.

Brian's ghost chilis are really doing well, and I don't even touch them, they are so notoriously hot.  But jalapeños are my favorite, and I have a lot of pico de gallo in my future.

New flowers seem to appear overnight around here.  Wildflowers blown in from another area, or spread from visiting birds can crop up in the unlikeliest of places.  The wild morning glories threaten to cover everything, and I am constantly pulling them out of bushes and beds where they don't belong.  They are a beautiful nuisance.

And just when I find the bottom of my first cup of coffee, it's time to wake the littles.  They are so groggy yet cheerful these mornings, and I am trying to cherish this while I can.  I know that groggy cheerful littles can turn into groggy grumpy bigs in no time.

And they eat breakfast slowly, trying to get their eyes adjusted to the brightening light.  They are quiet, yet happy, and it's my favorite time of the day with them.

We talk about what the day will bring, and they stretch and yawn themselves into wakefulness.

And just for those first morning moments, life is calm, peaceful, and relaxed.

first day

I always really liked the first day of school.  All the way through college.  It was a fresh start, and you never knew what the year would hold.  Of course that luster of newness never lasted past the first week, but I always had that first day.  I think my kids are the same.  They land more in the excited camp than in the nervous, clinging to mama camp.  They scampered right out of my car yesterday and eagerly ran into their new school.

After an unfortunate misunderstanding involving "uniforms" and "unicorns," Rowan was right on board to go to school 5 half days a week, the same as her big brother.  She's feeling mighty grown up these days.  She asks often, "Am I a bid (big) durl (girl)?"  And I have to sigh and tell her, yes, she's getting there.

I have no idea where she came up with the banjo player idea.  She has some innovative ideas about grown ups.  Who knows?  Maybe she'll be the next Steve Martin.

Fletcher loves school, but was hesitant about starting in a new school this year.  We moved to our town last year well past the time everyone else signed up for Preschool, so we had to settle for a school that wasn't our first pick.  This year we moved into our first pick school, and I can tell already that it's a winner of a school.  But Fletcher is like me that he craves familiarity and tradition.  But he said yesterday was a great first day.  He also said he misses his old school, but I know he will adjust fine.

They don't come much sweeter than this kid.  He wants to join the Army so that he can be with his Papa everyday.  I didn't break the news that his Papa would long be retired by the time he was old enough to join.  And also?  Over my dead body, kid.

Here are a few gems from our quick before school photo shoot yesterday.  You can just see the love for his sister all over Fletcher's face.  Ah, siblings!

Also, can we get a side of cheese with all this ham?  I mean, they look like a JcPenny ad here.  Rowan even has her leg model posed.  No, I did NOT tell her to do it.

And there above is how Fletcher was really feeling.  I was feeling the same way.  After a long lazy summer, a 6 am alarm is seriously, um, alarming.

Hope all your littles are having great first days where ever you may be, friends!

5 years old!



Well, another year has passed.  It's now been 5 years since Fletcher made me a mama.  Seems like so long ago and yesterday all rolled into one.  Does that make sense?  I can barely remember how it feels to NOT be a mother, so it feels so long ago.  But wait, wasn't he *just* a baby?  Anyway, Fletcher is 5, and he is just as joyful as day one.  He is such a kind, sweet boy, and I feel like I was blessed to be the one to care for his little soul as he grows up.  It's such a soft, sweet soul to care for.  

 He still loves trains, but his realm of interest has broadened to include superheroes, legos, and Transformers.  But trains will always be his first true love.  Besides mama, of course!

 He loves to meet new people, especially new little people, and will try to play with everyone at the park all at once.  He likes to include everyone.  I have never heard him say anything mean to another child, but does easily get his heart crushed when other children say something remotely unkind to him. 

He keeps us in stitches with his "Fletcherisms" and we often ask him how he feels or thinks about a lot of things in this world just to get his take on it.  He's opened my eyes to seeing something a new and different way more times than I can count.

  His favorite foods tend to be fresh vegetables, and still loves a good salad.  But he prefers to drink chocolate milk to anything else.  He's pretty good about trying new things, though. 

 Fletcher is going through a "mama" phase, but could quickly pass me over in favor of Papa tomorrow.  He is fickle like that. 

 His imagination is something to behold, and if you have a minute or maybe an hour, he'd love to tell you a story he's made up.  He is an excellent traveler, and really likes new places to visit.  A car trip is one of his favorite activities of all time.  Especially if it ends somewhere fun. 

 He mostly tolerates his little sister, but he and Rowan are starting to become play mates.  It's not perfect, but sometimes there is a magical moment where they play nicely together.  It's my favorite kind of moment.  He doesn't have a lot of patience for sitting down to write letters or draw, but he could listen to someone reading him a book for hours. 

He crawls into bed with me every morning, cuddles close, and tells me, "Good morning, mama!"  Even when it is too early, I love that he still cuddles and wants to be cuddled.  I loved the age of 4, but 5 is shaping up to be an excellent number to be. 

Fletcher, you are the best boy I know, and you make this mama's heart happy every day.  I love your mind, I love your energy, and I love your imagination.  You will do amazing things in this world, I know it. 
Love, your Mama xoxo

last day

Fletcher's last day of school was last Friday.  I can't believe he's finished his first year of school already.  I know that Rowan went to school too, but she only went 2 days a week, so it doesn't feel official with her.

Here is Fletcher's last day picture, along with his first day.  Can you believe how much he grew?!  I don't even realize how quickly these littles grow until I look at side by side comparisons.

This time when I asked what he wanted to be when he grows up, he said an Army man like Papa.  So he still wants to be just like his Papa when he grows up.  But an Army man?  I don't think this mama's heart could take it.

And here is a little side by side comparison of Rowan's first and last day.  

Also unbelievable how much she grew!  She's also changed so much with her time in school.  She had such an excellent teacher who really worked with the kids, and loved working with the kids.  Which really makes all the difference.  

Fletcher learned and changed a lot, but we made a hard decision to keep him in preschool for another year next year.  His birthday is at the end of a June, so we thought giving him the opportunity to be the oldest kid in his class, rather than the youngest, might be a good idea.  He's so smart, and is so eager to learn, but he is also young.  It's hard to make these decisions as they come up.  We want the absolute best for him and for his life, and all the advice we received led us to giving him another year to grow.  As parents, we make these decisions as we go, hope for the best, say a prayer, and send out our children to do their best.  It's hard.

details to remember

I don't have a great memory.  I forget things very easily, and although I have great memories of my childhood, they are not sharp, clear memories.  I make a lot of lists, I keep this blog as a reminder of what my little family has been doing, and I take lots of photos.  Mostly with my phone if I'm being honest.

Yesterday the littles and I soaked in the warm sun and played out in the grass.  And as I took pictures of them playing, I just kept thinking: Will you remember?

 Will you remember how much she loves to smell flowers?

Will you remember how he shares everything with her? Will you remember elbow dimples?

 Will you remember how she can concentrate with laser perfection?

 Will you remember how he takes everything apart to figure out how it's made?

 Will you remember little feet in grass?

 Will you remember how big and pretty her eyes are now on her little face?

 Will you remember how all his pants slip down?  Every. Single. Pair?

 Will you remember how happy and excited they are when Papa gets home?

 Will you remember how she picks every flower that blooms, even though you don't want her to, but then she so sweetly says, "But it's for you, mama!"?

Will you remember how little they are?  

I will try.

on listening to our children

We've all heard that little quote about listening to our children:

"Listen earnestly to anything [your children] want to tell you, no matter what. If you don't listen eagerly to the little stuff when they are little, they won't tell you the big stuff when they are big, because to them all of it has always been big stuff." - Catherine M. Wallace

Well.  I'm not at a point in my motherhood that I can test that theory, but I can attest to the importance of PAYING ATTENTION right now when my children speak.  Here is a truth for you:  It is very easy for me to zone out while Fletcher chats on and on about trains and cars, and things that go in general.  Because that is his favorite topic of conversation.  But not mine.  So I do zone out.  A lot.  But when I choose to tune in, actually listen, and engage in the conversation, a kind of magic happens.

He lights up.   He leans into me, and listens back.  He shares gems with me that I have come to refer to as "Fletcherisms."  He basks in the glow of my undivided attention, simply because it can be a rare commodity.  And it makes me feel wonderful, and kind of horrible all at once.  Because why can't I do it more for him?

Our focus can scatter so much these days.  We're tuned into so much around us, it can be difficult to focus on what is right in front of us.  Rowan loves to help me cook and will chatter away while we make lunch.  But my mind can wander and I end up answering her in a series of "Uh-huhs" "Ohhh" and "You don't say" while I focus on what I'm making.  She may not notice now, but she will.  We all know when someone isn't focused in on what we say.  And while children don't always understand that yet, they figure it out quickly.

It can be maddening to drive the children to school with a chorus of "Why this, why that, why, why, why" going on in the backseat.  Sometimes I turn on NPR and tell the littles that "Mama needs to listen to news, so let's all be quiet."  Yes, I know.  Mother of the year.  But any mother to small children will attest to this constant need for the children to be heard.  And that's exactly what it is.  It is a NEED.  Almost as important as food or shelter, my children NEED my attention.  My conversation.  My answers to their never-ending questions.  

So I know I need to do better.  I need to tune in more.  I need to put down whatever I'm working on and engage in their little worlds.  Because if there is a day coming when they stop wanting to share every detail of their day with me, it will be heartbreaking.  And I will wish I had just heard them when they were willing to share with me.  

march madness

Hi friends.  It may be a bit quiet around here this week.  We're gearing up for our biggest party ever, which is saying something, let me tell you.  Brian just adores St. Patrick's Day, and this will be our first St. Paddy's party.  So it will be pretty exciting around here this weekend.  We have a bagpiper booked who also plays the tin flute and uilleann pipes.  Which is good because although Brian can stand hours of bagpipe music, I always say that 10 minutes is 5 minutes too long.  Don't get me wrong- I do love hearing them, but a consistent drone of bagpipes in the middle of a party doesn't sound too awesome.  Brian has been working on his own projects, sewing and all, and I have my own list I'm working through.  On top of my project make something.  So busy!

Rowan has been working on her own projects along side of me, and I love it.  It's been so wonderful sitting down to make something and having Rowan bring over a stack of random ephemera and crayons and go to town.  You can see me working a thread and needle beside her here.

 I realized that the shirt I made Fletcher for St. Paddy's last year will still fit him, but I had to whip up something for Rowan.  Mission accomplished.

A cheeky shirt for my cheeky girl.  And now I'm off to write up grocery lists, make garland, and scrub the house clean.  Wish me luck!

this boy

The other night Fletcher picked out the book Where the Wild Things Are for one of his bedtime books.  I told him it was my very favorite when I was his age, and how I still love reading it to him.  After we finished reading, getting tucked in, and getting snuggles, Fletcher told me that we should read the book every night.  And that he'd only read it with me since it's our special favorite book!  He's pretty special himself that way.  Full disclosure: he did go on to tell me about a Spongebob episode that involved some pretty gross scenes.  So, yeah.  He's still a boy.  But he's my favorite boy ever.

on singing to your children

Confession time:  I was a big choir nerd in high school.  I love singing, I grew up singing, I have a group of friends that sing every time we're together.  I sang at weddings in the summer during college to earn a little extra dough.  It's ingrained in my life.  I sing pretty much all day long.  So now my children are growing up with a singing household.  Don't worry, we listen to professional singers a lot, too.

Second confession: I make up silly little songs every day.  When the littles were born, I made up silly songs for them.  Here is Fletcher's song, sung to the tune of Allouete:

Fletcher Joseph, I love Fletcher Joseph
Fletcher Joseph, he's my little boy.
Oh I love you so so so,
Oh my Fletcher Joe Joe Joe
Fletcher Joe
Fletcher Joe
Fletcher JOE OH!

I know, I should take this on the road.  And here is Rowan's song, sung to the tune of Peter Paul and Mary's Lemon Tree:

Rowan Catherine is so pretty,
Rowan Catherine is so sweet.
And I love Rowan Catherine,
From her hair down to her feet.
Rowan Catheriiiiiiine.

Really silly songs.  But they both could say their full names before they were 18 months old!  They both request their songs often.  We all love songs that feature our names, right?  I also started making little songs for everything we would do when they were just babies.  I read a book about telling your baby everything you are doing with them, just so that they get all that verbal communication.  "We're putting on your clothes now.  Here's your shirt, and these are your pants."  Something like that.  So I of course have a song for putting on socks.  Sung to a made up tune.

Sockies on our feet
Sockies on our feet
We'll have everyone else beat
When we have sockies on our feet.

I have songs for eating.  Songs for specific foods we eat.  Songs to wake up the littles in the morning.  Songs for mornings that they go to school.  Songs for taking a bath.  You may at this point think that this is really silly, and such a waste of time.  I agree, it IS silly.  But definitely not a waste of time.

When I sing one of our daily ritual songs, the littles eyes light up in recognition of what is coming next. They are prepared, and it helps to prevent melt downs that stem from difficulties in transitioning to the next activity.  A silly song that lets the kids know that we're about to eat lunch is an easier transition from play to lunch than just suddenly announcing, "Lunch time!"  It can be jarring for a toddler to transition so suddenly, especially when they are lost in their world of play.  Singing a silly song almost extends that world into what is coming next.  I've done it both ways, and transitions are ALWAYS easier when there is a song involved.

I've had my grumpy days when I just want to TELL them to DO what I am SAYING.  And it never works.  Makes me grumpier when they don't transition well.  And I know you're probably thinking our house is a really annoying place to be, but trust me, children crying is way more annoying.

There has been an unexpected development in all this singing.  My children are making up songs.  Fletcher has mini-operas about trains while playing with trains, and Rowan takes familiar tunes and changes the words to what is going on.  Just last night Fletcher made up a song about the dinner I made, and it even RHYMED.  People, he's writing songs at the age of 4.  Move over Mozart.  Ha!

Since I love to sing, it provides an extra joy to parenting, especially when my children join in the singing.  I'm not suggesting it will work for everyone, but it has been one successful part of motherhood for me.  Happy singing!