The request to wear her sister always seemed to come at the worst time: Lucia was hungry, tired or the house was just chaotic. I’d said no and not right now and maybe tomorrow too many times to count, so I prepared her:
“It might be quick. She’s pretty hungry and tired.”
As I helped Harlow wrap her, Lucia was fussy and squirmy. I was nervous that Harlow would get overwhelmed by it all. After only a few minutes, I told her I should probably just take her out to feed her and calm her down.
“No mommy. I can do this.”
And with that, she walked away, bouncing gently, patting Lucia’s back with one hand as she held her pacifier with the other. She sang in her ear and whispered,
“I’m right here, Lucia. I’m right here! It’s okay. It’s okay.”
Within seconds, Lucia had calmed. And within minutes, she was asleep.
That sister magic is real.
Things have changed a little bit around here! We welcomed Lucia Jane into the world a few weeks ago, and our lives are so much sweeter. Her labor and delivery was all her own — I hope to share it with you soon. I’ve been sharing so much of what I would have been blogging over on instagram, if you care to follow along.
I’d been waiting for the right way to jump back in. Do I apologize for taking such a break? Do I just pretend like I didn’t? So here I am, acknowledging the needed break and moving on. I’m ready to give this space a much needed makeover. I’m anxious to share what we’ve been up to. I’ve miss you all.
Thanks for sticking around and being patient with me.
I can’t be the only one obsessed with things like Kickstarter and SharkTank, amirite? There is something about people making huge sacrifices for something they believe in, and then seeing other people believe in the dream as well. If I had to pick a favorite though, it would be Kickstarter.
Today, I’d like to challenge you to head over to Kickstarter and see what The Parative Project is doing for women who have been trafficked, exploited and forced into labor. What I love about these t-shirts is that they were designed to speak backwards as the founder, Drew, describes.
The messages on these specific shirts are not for the consumer, nor the people who will see you wearing them (although of course we think you will love them too!). Instead, we designed these shirts to speak to their maker. The woman who is working to end the cycle of poverty for the generations after her. The woman who is diligently fighting the ghosts of her past. The woman who might need some encouragement to know she is remembered. We know that a t-shirt isn’t going to erase everything that has happened to her, but like a greeting card can turn around someone’s day, these tees will serve as comfort and support to her. As she works, she will read the messages, “You are loved” and “our freedom is tied together.” So when the product she made is purchased, she will know that we believe in her freedom and want to help grow her business.
The power of words. It gives me chills. The honor to be involved in something bigger than me.
Harlow has something she wants to tell you!
You better believe we supported this Kickstarter project! I can’t wait to see the final tote bag design: #nevertoomanybags is my life motto. ;) I kid.
But seriously. Kid shirts are now available, and they are SO very close to meeting their goal. Imagine if we all join in what can happen.
Y’all know we are huge fans of Rack Room Shoes over here. I was so excited to finally step foot into a brick and mortar at a mall close by! Ordering online is awesome, but sometimes perusing in person takes the cake.
We’ve decided to homeschool Harlow next year for preschool – cue panic and fear in my eyes and another post for another time – so I’m excited to create little back to school traditions for us as we venture down this path. Will we continue homeschooling? Who knows. I’m taking it one year day at a time.
Harlow is definitely in an “let me do it, mommy” stage, and I love it. I also can’t believe she’s not a baby anymore, so I’m constantly prying my hands open to let her grow and flourish. Man, it’s so hard to loosen that grip! I love that these Sperry shoes are so perfect for her to put on.
She loves asking me, “this way?” to ensure she has her shoes on the correct feet, so we’ve made up a little saying to help her remember: pinky toe, velcro. I love hearing her recite it as she goes to the closet to grab her shoes.
I’m wearing these VANS just about every day — getting a lot of compliments on them too. They are such a great shade of grey and go with just about everything! Rack Room Shoes has shoes for the entire family — and you can’t beat their everyday “buy one get one 50% off” deal.
For this back to school outfit, she’s sporting her bubblegum pink Sperry Hallies and her favorite dress. It’s cute and simple, and both items pass the rigorous “comfy” test that Harlow puts every garment and shoe through.
She’s one tough cookie!
I can’t write about our favorite Shoe place without sharing some of the amazing things they are doing! Rack Room Shoes is raising funds for families in need through their yearly Shoes that Fit campaign. This campaign provides new shoes to at-risk kids at the start of the school year.
I love how easy Rack Room makes it to donate: simply donate when checking out in the store or donate online here. 100% of donations will be distributed locally where the shoes are purchased.
I’m not one to get super sappy on birthdays — I almost try to make myself more emotional about it, but that’s just not me. But this year – goodness, I made it that far without crying — this year four is hitting me hard.
As I put her to bed last night, I said to her, “can you believe that when you wake up you will be four years old?”
“This week? This week, mommy!?”
“Yes! Tomorrow of THIS week!”
I wish you could have seen her face light up. That conversation happened about 4 more times, each time her excitement was the same: super excitement.
That’s the thing about this girl, she radiates joy. She genuinely gets overjoyed about the tiniest things.
She loves hard, and she’s as stubborn as they come.
She practices crying in the mirror. No, I’m not kidding.
I’m jealous of her imagination — and her hair color.
She loves people. Everyone is her friend and her empathy for others blows me away.
She remembers so many details, I often ask her to remind me of important things because I know she won’t forget!
She picked out a book to read last night: it was an instagram photo book from blurb that I made for her when she was about 18 months old. It doesn’t have any text, so we looked through it and I told her about so many goofy things she did and said. We talked about how bald she was and how she had two teeth just like Jonesy does. It was so bittersweet seeing photos in our old apartment and our first house in Pittsburgh — strange how familiar yet foreign they looked.
Last night, I prayed with her and then thanked her for making me a mommy. She asked me if I was getting old — I assured her I was trying not to! She looked at me and said, “I won’t let you get old mommy.” Ha! I’ll remind you of this when you are 14, Harlow. ;)
I’ve always been thankful for her, but this year my thankfulness is in a way that caught me off guard. She’s been my confidant and even my shoulder to cry on during the move and transition. I hate to admit that she’s been the one to see my frustration and exhaustion too. I’ve asked for her forgiveness so many times over these past few months — and I know it won’t be the last! She teaches me so much, I often wonder why I’m the mom. ;)
Harlow London,
You grow more beautiful by the day. I pray you never lose that sparkle in your eyes or your incredible giggle. Your personality draws people to you: I pray you draw people to Him.
It’s quite simple: Do what is fair and just to your neighbor, be compassionate and loyal in your love, And don’t take yourself too seriously— take God seriously. – Micah 6:8b, The Message
I often think of laughter as a distant memory or an old friend. I look back on it fondly, missing its authentic sound and voice. I never forget, but as time goes on, the small details lose clarity.
What exactly did her voice sound like?
That door was what shade of blue?
And time continues. Moments and faces fill the spaces once occupied by those tiny details now fussy in my memory.
I often think about laughter in this way.
I often think of laughter as a muscle once used, once strong.
The memory of the motion — the running, the lifting, the punches — is still there, but the memory isn’t enough to maintain the strength.
It must be flexed and used. It must be broken and strained, so that it can grow stronger.
I often think about laughter in this way.
With motherhood came the responsibility of more lives than just my own. Lives I put before mine — even as I sleep, with one eye open. Always watching, always looking, always thinking….
always worrying.
I find it so easy to worry, yet so difficult to laugh. The worry plays the trump card in every hand. The laughter is moved to the “do tomorrow” list.
I’ve strengthened the muscle of worry. I’ve revisited its memories and face. I’ve let my laughter muscles atrophy.
The worry voice sings loudly:
Did I play with them enough today?
Did I show my love?
Did the bill get paid?
Why didn’t he nap?
What will others think?
What if… what when… how will…
From the lightweights to the heavy-hitters, I allow them to consume me. Punching down the genuine laughter, leaving reasons to worry behind.
If you can get me to laugh — really laugh — you’ll hear chuckles turned to silent, shoulder-shaking laughter. As I silently laugh with tears streaming down my face, small squeaks make their way out as I inhale. An friend of mine used to call me “window washer”: my laughter mimicking the tiny squeaks you hear as the glass is polished until it is shiny and clean.
Shiny and clean.
Motherhood isn’t shiny and clean — you can do it all “right” and still be left with heartache.
Is it possible to laugh while the heart hurts? It is possible to genuinely laugh when life just feels hard and heavy?
I want to be the window washer again.
Harlow has a laugh that is simply beautiful. She squishes up her nose. She squints her eyes shut. She giggles loudly. She laughs often.
The other day I said to her, “Harlow, I love your giggles.”
She replied so matter of factly: “I just love to laugh, mommy.”
And in that moment I realized that laughter is like so many things forgotten: it doesn’t have to be.
It is a muscle that doesn’t want to be lost. It is a sound that wants to fill the air. It is a feeling that wants to be experienced, contagious to oneself and others.
In that moment, I realized my motherhood needs my laughter.
Laughter doesn’t mean that everything is perfect. Laughter doesn’t mean that I have this motherhood gig — or life gig — figured out.
Laughter means finding joy in the tiniest of moments: to even for a moment forget all the reasons to worry. I want to show my kids that life is more than responsibilities–being their mommy is more than the weight of it all. It is having the honor to laugh at the crayon mural on the freshly painted wall, to laugh at the joke you’ve heard one thousand times, to laugh with joy when it doesn’t mean you are happy.
Even in the middle of heartache.
Laughter may not make the world shiny and clean, but I’m beginning to believe that the sound of true laughter has the ability to polish a small piece of the heart. One moment at at time.
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