4 Years Ago Today

Four years ago today...

We vowed our love, not knowing what these promises would entail, but knowing we would keep them. Knowing, without really knowing, that the words we repeated were true. For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. We promised to love each other through it all.

And so far I think we're doing all right.

Because I've loved you at 3am with a baby in the bath and every piece of vomit soaked clothing in the wash, wondering how we would all survive.

Because you've loved me even when I wasn't myself, when there was a darkness chipping away at me and I couldn't recognize the girl in our wedding pictures.

Because I've loved you when we were eating spaghetti every night and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches every day, crying sometimes when the mail brought more hospital bills.

Because you loved me when I walked into the kitchen holding a pregnancy test that I couldn't believe was true, even when at first I cried.

Because we've loved each other during days spent lazily on the beach and vacationing in Vegas.

Because we've loved each other during the long days of school and work and babies crying, when our paths barely crossed.

Because we've loved each other on expensive date nights.

Because we've loved each other eating beans and rice at home.

Because our love is constant and strong and reliable. Because kids and money and time have changed many things, but our love is not one of them. Because even though we still don't know what those vows will entail as the years go on, we still know we will keep them. 

Because I love you and you love me, and that is the whole of the story.

Happy Father's Day

Dear Dad,

There are never going to be enough words for me to tell you how much you mean to me. To tell you how good of a father you've been. To show you what a strong role model you are. To express the depth of my love and gratitude  for all the things I remember, and all the things I don't. But just to scratch the surface, as I approach my 25th birthday, here are 25 reasons I'm thankful to have you as my Dad.

1. You did not teach me to dream, you taught me to do. Even when I was very little, I always remember you asking me what I was going to do. Not what I wanted to do, what I was going to do. You never asked after my dreams like they were a fantasy. You asked for my plan and how I was going to ensure my success. You made me think strategically and chase goals with a sense of purpose.

2. You never made me feel pretty. You made me feel smart and strong. You gave praise to my mastery of crescent kicks and writing.You showed me where my true worth was, and I never forgot it.

3. You took 3 teenage girls on a road trip to the Grand Canyon. Enough said.

4. You were always there. I remember many of my friends' moms, but not many of their dads. All of my friends have memories of you, and that speaks volumes.

5. You made me feel loved. I never questioned the depth of your love for me. Not once.

6. You loved my mother. You bought her flowers and called her "baby" and hugged and kissed her when you came home.

7. You taught me to fight. Literally. You taught me how to make a fist and swing a punch and took me to Taekwondo lessons and tournaments. You never discouraged me from being strong and tough.

8. You showed me how I was supposed to be loved. I chose to marry a man who is an amazing husband and a wonderful father to our children. I chose well because of your example.

9. You are CD. That trip to the Grand Canyon with Becky and Nicole was chaotic and unforgettable and so much fun. Along the way you were dubbed CD, "Cool Dad," and had a giant cookie baked in your honor upon our return.

10. You made me feel safe. I never felt fear when I was by your side.

11. You told me bedtime stories. Not only that, but you made them up off the top of your head. Granted they were weird and occasionally not age appropriate (like the time Digger died, and you had to bring him back to life in the next story because I was so upset), but still, there are very few dads out there creating their own bedtime story sagas.

12. You empowered me. You always talked to me about how I should be an entrepreneur, a businesswoman, a chef, a lawyer, a writer. You put possibilities out there. You never put that glass ceiling above my head.

13. You taught me to be wise with my money. I have never struggled with debt and invest our family's money for the future. You were always talking to me about money, and even though I feigned that I wasn't listening, I always was.

14. You stressed the importance of learning to make a good pie. My apple pie may not be as good as Nana's, but my blue ribbon blackberry pie overtook hers at the Cazadero BBQ. Pie making is important. I don't care what anyone else says.

15. You are a wonderful grandpa. I can't wait to see all the adventures my kids have with you over the years.

16. You're a good father-in-law. You respect my husband and always make him and his family feel welcome.

17. You never put me in a box.You never discouraged me from doing anything because I was a girl. I took dance lessons and sang in the choir. I practiced martial arts and shot guns. You let me do it all.

18. You were affectionate. You always had a hug for your little boo.

19. You taught me to be independent. I was able to move out and be self-sufficient at the age of eighteen. I have many peers who still aren't there yet.

20. You taught me to work hard. When I moved out of the house, life was not easy. Making ends meet was a struggle. But I was able to do it because you taught me how to work hard for what I wanted.

21. You loved my friends. You treated my close friends as if they were your daughters too. You loved them, laughed with them, worried about them.

22. You were fearless. You were never afraid to go after what you wanted. You built a business from the ground, rebuilt it when things went wrong. You didn't let fear stand in your way, and I hope I can do the same in my life.

23. You told the truth. When you said you would do something, you did it. When you told me my horrendous, baby blue "Angel" beanie made me look like a mall-rat gang-banger, you were right. I always knew I could trust your word.

24. You sent us snipe hunting. Okay, so you always told the truth, except that time you sent us into the night to hunt an elusive chicken-like creature with glowing eyes. That was lies. But good times nonetheless.

25. You are my Dad. And you always will be. No one could ever take your place or even come close.

Happy Father's Day

I love you.

31 Nights, 31 Days

It doesn't seem real, that a whole month has passed since that early morning you came squirming into this huge, wide world. Looking up at me with those big, bright eyes like you'd known me for a lifetime. Falling asleep in my arms, smiling in your deepest sleep, so content with the life you'd been given from the start.

It doesn't seem possible that I've slept by your side for 31 nights. That I've woken each night to comfort you. To fill your belly and change your diapers. To snuggle you back to sleep. That I've stayed awake every morning at 5:00am just to stare at your beautiful face, because that's when you like to open your eyes for the first time each day. No, 31 nights seems far more than what I've been given. I feel like I've only had the chance to glimpse at you. I've only held you for a moment.

But then again, it doesn't seem possible that 31 days ago you were still inside me. That I had never seen your face or held you in my arms. That this fierce love was absent from my heart. That you were absent from my life. It doesn't seem possible that there was a world without you only 31 days ago. Have I really only felt this love for that long?

Yes, a whole month has gone by. Regardless of what I feel, about time and space and love and you, 31 nights and 31 days have passed.

And though I feel it has gone by far too fast, I know I have savored every moment of it. I have held you close to my heart for long, lazy hours. I have stared at you in the gray hours of the morning. I have hummed lullabies and rocked you long after you'd closed your eyes.

I have loved you deeply for 31 nights and 31 days, and I will for countless more.

No Place Like Home

A sleep deprived Lucas napped on the couch with me for an hour like this.

We've been off vacationing for the last week in the North Bay. A beautiful wedding, late nights with friends, flying kites at the beach, exploring near the bay, relaxing and daydreaming at the ranch. Too many hands to hold my sweet baby. Nana and Grandpa taking the early morning shift with Lucas (yes!). Wonderful weather. It was divine.

But while it was lovely, there's really nothing better than coming home after a long trip. Exhausted babies falling asleep all over the place. Baskets of fresh laundry coming out of the dryer. Cooking in your own kitchen. Sleeping in your own bed.

There's nothing like that sense of relief when you lumber through the door with suitcases and kids and snacks and toys, which you heave to the floor with abandon. Nothing like sitting on the couch, bedtimes be damned, and letting everyone unwind.

(Nothing like that cold beer you left waiting in the fridge for just this occasion)

There's nothing better than settling snugly into that familiar place you call home. Returning to where you belong with the people you love. It's the feeling that lets you know you have a good life. A blessed life.

There's just no place like home.

A Bit of News

Some of you may have noticed this shiny new button which popped up on my sidebar a couple days ago. I'm excited to announce that I'm going to be a monthly contributor for Reno Moms Blog, the newest addition to the city moms blog network, which launches this next week! They officially introduced me on their facebook page today, go check it out and show them some love.

I'm thrilled to be working with such an awesome group of ladies in my area. Everyone on board is so passionate about this community and each has a unique perspective to offer. I have a feeling this is going to be a great project, and I couldn't be happier about being a part of it.

Dancing Like We're 22

Have you heard this new Taylor Swift song "22"? Also, did I really just begin a post with "have you heard this new Taylor Swift song?" Yes. Yes, I did.

Chaunie from Tiny Blue Lines shared the video on her Facebook page then followed it up with this blog where she shares a different view of 22, that of young motherhood. And along the way she calls Swift's portrayal of 22 ridiculous and ends the post with a "take that, Taylor." Then Hannah from Supermommy...Or Not took Taylor down another notch in her post, while simultaneously lumping together most people in their early-twenties as selfish party animals.

And honestly, I was a little disappointed with what I read. I'm not much into the Taylor-bashing, even if she is generalizing 22 in a way we don't all relate to. Because not everyone relates to being a mother at 22 either.

Don't get me wrong. I love hearing stories of young motherhood. I appreciate the support and camaraderie of the young mom community. But all too often I find that in the midst of sharing why being a young mom is so great, we're taking jabs at our childless peers. It's not always intentional, but an "us" versus "them" tone arises when we juxtapose the experience of being a young mom with being your "average" 22-year-old. We wax poetic about how nothing compares to bringing a new life into the world. We tell the world that motherhood has transformed us into better, kinder human beings. We tout our maturity, resilience, stability, sense of purpose, responsible nature and more.

Then we sometimes pile our childless peers into a generalized group of carefree, narcissistic, partying, by the book Generation Y-ers. We point a judgmental finger in their faces and start talking like old folks. "Back when I was 22, we didn't get to do keg stands and wear fabulous cat-eared headbands. There was no casual dating or fancy clothing or late night soirees. No, siree. My 22 was marriage and being covered in vomit and walking the halls at night with a colicky baby. That is real life, my friends." 

We're pushing our experience on our peers and telling them how much harder our lives are. But so much more worthwhile. We're saying our lives are better, more meaningful than theirs.

Maybe it's just our way of justifying our lifestyle. Because we feel judged or ostracized for choosing young motherhood (or having it unexpectedly choose us). Maybe we're overcompensating in the telling of our stories because we feel like we have something to prove. But where does it end? When do we stop pitting ourselves against our peers because they get to experience grad-school without a baby and start their careers before walking down the aisle? When they become parents themselves? Is that the only way we deem others worthy?

I hope not.

I hope we can come around and embrace the different lifestyles of our peers. That we can cheer on our childless friends as they pursue their dreams and goals, just as we would hope to be cheered on in our pursuits. I hope we can encourage the student who is moving to a new place without friends or family to get her MFA. The one who is working two jobs to afford an apartment in the city. The one living with her parents while tackling a double-major. The one busting her ass at an unpaid internship. Even the one living out that Taylor Swift music video. And maybe we can allow them all the occasional keg stand without judgement. This is what 22 looks like too.

And personally, I don't think there's anything wrong with dancing like we're 22, whether that means throwing your hands in the air to a boombox blaring poolside or swinging your hips to a lullaby with a new babe in arms. Or anything in between. It's your dance, after all.

Avery's Birth Story

You all know how this birth story begins, panicked at 5:00am in the hospital because Avery had stopped moving (you know, until the moment my lovely nurse went to put the monitor around my stomach, of course). I was happy to find that my contractions were finally getting stronger and more regular throughout the day and for once I was not hesitant to call Rob to come home from work and have my mom come pick up Lucas, because glory of all glories, this thing was finally happening. I couldn't focus much on anything that needed to be done around the house, and had zero urge for last minute nesting. I mostly sat on the couch with the dog, eating bowl after bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch until help arrived.

We landed back in the hospital around 5:00pm, incredibly excited to find that I was now 5cm dilated. But there was a major problem. My contractions had stopped. I mean stopped. There were little flutters that you could barely call contractions about 10-15 minutes apart. We walked laps around Labor and Delivery for an hour, spending lots of time gawking at the single newborn in the nursery, until the nurse ushered us back into the room and hooked me up to monitors again. Regular contractions! Then a few minutes passed and we were back where we started. Nothing. Zilch. Zip. Nada.

The nurse left us again, and I started crying, because I was sure they were going to send me home. Again. Then my nurse from the 5:00am freakout came in. That nurse, Jen, was an angel. Instead of shaking her head in disappointment at my lack of regular contractions, she checked my dilation again, proclaimed me at 6cm and told me we weren't going anywhere. She offered me the pitocin I so desperately wanted to get things moving and we were on our way to having a baby at last.

When the contractions started to get really painful, I hesitantly agreed to an epidural. After the terrifying experience of my last epidural, I swore I would never go through that again. But thankfully Jen assuaged my fears and finally (for the first time ever) someone explained what had gone wrong with my first epidural (too much medicine too fast plus my highly sensitive system was a recipe for disaster). Our anethesiologist was amazing. He was fast and friendly and totally in control when I started getting woozy after the epidural. He didn't leave until I felt safe. Until I felt in control again.We had a dream team for Avery's birth, and I couldn't be more thankful for them.

Soon I was managing to breathe through my contractions, and it wasn't long until I started feeling the need to push. But stubborn as my babies are want to be, I wasn't quite 100% effaced yet, despite all the pineapple eating earlier in the week. Jen left us to work through this time alone. Rob fell asleep holding my hand, and I focused on uujayi breathing to stop myself from tensing up and squeezing (a technique I had hoped to use during Lucas' birth, before the Demerol made me lose control of all my senses).

The contractions were long and painful and constant, but I felt strong and in control. It was such a sharp contrast to the blurry edged nightmare in the end stages of Lucas' birth. I was working in sync with my body, and the medication was helping rather than hurting. That quiet, painful time was a truly amazing experience - the only time in my life I have felt so attuned to my body. I knew the moment I was ready, and she was ready. Jen and another nurse came in to prepare the room for her arrival. It was time.

"We're having a baby," I said, smiling. Then the next contraction hit and there was no more smiling. Just focus, no more breathing, pushing, counting, everyone telling me I was doing good. Rob tells me he can see her head, that she's so close, "she's got hair." Tearing, screaming, the doctor barely making it into the room, more pushing, counting, bearing down through the pain. Twelve transcendent minutes, and there she was.

They wiped her down haphazardly and laid her on my chest. I said, "Hi, beautiful," and she opened her eyes and looked towards my voice. One look into those eyes, and I was in love. I could have held her there forever, just basking in the glory of the fact that she was alive and mine. She looked for Rob when she heard his voice too, opening those big bright eyes to get a look at her Daddy. She knew us immediately, and being near us calmed her. She ate well, slept soundly and came home with us the next day.

For all that fighting not to come out, she sure was at peace with the world in a hurry. xoxo