At the nineteen month mark, I’ve given up packing a diaper bag for quick trips out the door. We’ve said goodbye to the exersaucer, the baby rattles, the nine month sleepers and those slender spoons with rubber stretched across the flat part of the ladle. We call her baby less often and little girl a bit more.

But there is one sweet ritual I’m not quite ready to give up.

I cannot say goodbye to nursing.

It’s not even that I do it because it’s good for her at this point. In fact, I have surprised myself in that, pre-baby, I never thought I’d be the mom that swoons over rhythms of breath, suck, and swallow or counts the nursing lock-eyed gaze as one of the seven wonders of the world. To be honest, the phrase “latch on” kind of grosses me out still.

But it happened. I fell in love with the intimate space our feeding embrace creates, and breathe, suck and swallow has spun its spell.

Heidi teases me because I have publicly proclaimed we’re weaning several times in the last six months. And yet, Nella rubs her eyes or cries and I run and scoop and slip my shirt up reflexively, like one of Pavlov’s dogs. Heidi always laughs. “How’s that weaning thing goin’ for ya?”

It’s our one guaranteed moment of magic, a calming place for both of us. I stop and sit and focus. She stretches her leg, plays with the folds of my shirt, squints her eyes in a coy smile knowing it will draw me further in.

I don’t know when we’ll be done. But I do know, for now…I’m not quite ready to let go.

This weekend was more quiet and reflective for us. I thought a lot about letting go and what that means. For me, it so often means opening my mind to the reality that today is what is most important. And so I focus on right now, folding up the worries and stresses of what the future may bring.

A friend of mine made big life decisions yesterday. Decisions where she sat with her oncologist and talked about treatment options and pain meds. She has kids…little ones. I want to fix it, take control, grab the reigns and steer it directly into a solution, a cure, a perfect ending for her family and yet I can only imagine how much greater this desire exists within her. And with all she has to think about, my friend is making great strides in her efforts to bring aid to orphanages with special needs children–changing the world with her one wild and precious life.

*****

Sunday night, I learned that my mom lost her dad, my Grandpa McCormick, to Alzheimer’s. While we expected the time was coming, there were phone calls and tears, and the realization that we are all vulnerable and small swallowed me whole.

I don’t know what to do with these feelings sometimes, and while writing so often creates an “out” for these emotions, I don’t really know what to write other than this: the raw places in our life where we discover, deepen our gratitude and open ourselves up to vulnerability, are definitely where we grow the most.

The fragility of life–it’s a concept that throbs so much more painfully now that I have kids. And it’s uncomfortable. But again, I have to let go, understanding that fragility is a two-edged sword. The very idea that we are not invincible is what motivates us to be strong–taking opportunities to seek adventure, carve memories, initiate meaningful traditions that will last a very long time. That’s anything but fragile.

I did my best to focus on my family this week–to be thankful, to grow, to be reminded that life is precious and needs to be lived passionately and purposefully.

And, appropriately timed, Nella let go this weekend. Slipped her hands off from our steady support and stood alone.

She’ll be walking soon.

Finally, yesterday several of my friends held the hand of their little one and passed it off to the trusting embrace of a teacher on the first day of school. They waved from the other side of a small classroom window one more time before they turned and walked away. They smiled and cried at the same time because, while they were happy and proud, they were a little bit sad too. Letting go isn’t easy. But oh, how it fuels us to hang on at the same time–making the very best of the moments we do have. And we have a lot.

We are settling in to some new routines this week, waking up to the squeak of school bus brakes and looking forward to the adventures this fall will bring.

*****

Welcome back to sponsor, Independent Consultant for Stella & Dot, Amber Silva. Their new line of handbags is garnering all sorts of praise…

…and, of course, their amazing jewelry–from casual classic pieces to bold and eye-catching, is sure to nicely accessorize your wardrobe.

Left, Sophia Pearl Bib Necklace; Right, Festival ’til Dawn Necklace



E-mail your order directly to yourstylist.amber@gmail.com, and she’ll give you free shipping!

*****

Happy Tuesday, Friends!

A long stretch of highway–40 miles of it without exits–seperates the people of Naples from the people who are blessed to live near an Ikea. We crossed to the other side today, my friend Julie driving while I took pictures of cerulean cloud-speckled skies and passed french fries to her sweet boys in the back.

The girls stayed home and while it may have been easier to get-in-and-get-out without them, I missed them. I like me time. Solo baths, quiet car trips alone up to Target, quick escapes to the bookstore to read and think without responsibility. For some reason today though, I wanted little feet dangling from my cart. Coming home this afternoon was rewarding, simple as that.

We’ve been talking about disappointment lately–how to handle it, how to avoid it, how to purposely not avoid it. I told Lainey we had plans with her friend Aleena the other day and, as plans often do, they went bust. She was devastated. Stomach jerking kind of cries and tears she couldn’t hold back.

“This is why you should probably wait to tell her about plans,” Brett suggested. “She gets her hopes up.”

“Oh, but it’s good for her,” I retorted. “Disappointment is part of life.”
We volleyed good opinions back and forth in an important discussion that affirmed our dreams and hopes for what our kids will be someday. That ultimately we want them happy. But the meaning of happy is intricate and subjective and dependent on a lot of things. Facing disappointment is one of them, and finding the tools to cope and adjust is something that is learned. I want my kids to learn this just as much as I want them to be happy.

So we talked about the fine line that exists between protecting your kids and teaching your kids and how every day, opportunities arise to both love them and yet instruct them, make them happy and yet give them the tools to be happy when circumstances aren’t so hot.

We practice disappointment when I tell her no, she cannot have a pack of Crazerasers. Even though they’re only a dollar and it would be so easy to throw them on the counter and watch my girl beam when she tears the plastic off and holds those little pieces of junk for all of ten seconds before they’re lost in the seat cracks of the car.

This is hard for me. I like making people happy. I like making my kids happy. I like saying yes, especially when the things that make Lainey happy are always little–stickers and trinkets and erasers the size of my pinky nail.

We are working on ideas to teach her to earn things she wants, how to handle the balance between “yes, you can” and “no, you can’t,” and although we don’t have the answers quite yet, I love the discussions we have in trying some new things. We are reminded of just how much we love them and what an amazing challenge and privilege it is to raise good and thoughtful little people.

No, Lainey. We already have a robot hand at home.

In the meantime there’s lots to make us happy. Brothers are back from their Hawaii trip to play Operation and moderate dog races in the side yard.

And missed play dates with Aleena are made up when we see her in ballet.

Nella’s been toting along for ballet. She likes the empty studios which are like gynasiums but prettier with their palladium windows and morning sun reflections–perfect for her shadow games.

My dad is bringing my niece to Florida tonight. We are looking forward to a movie night with popcorn and couch cushion forts. I was planning on leaving in an hour to head to the airport, but you see, I have a knack for screwing up all things airport related. They’re here. Waiting for me. I had the wrong time yet again. Time for a wrap-up.

*****

Returning sponsor Linkel Designs has their shop completely stocked with generously priced handmade vintage-inspired jewelry. I have several of their pieces and wear them with everything. Got a party coming up? Need a gift? You’ll be sure to find something fun yet inexpensive in their vast collection of beautiful goods.

Necklace

Deets for discount and giveaway here:

There are three people standing next to suitcases at a curb in Fort Myers. Hampton out.

Did you see that moon last night? Beautiful.

For Brett.

Eight years ago, I watched you in the parking lot from my chair behind the window of a nail salon. I didn’t know you yet, but I knew I was supposed to. Without you even knowing, I witnessed a tender moment between you and your boys and I’ll never forget smiling, slayed by the kind of father you were.

Little did I know you’d one day be the father of my own children. For all the years I dreamed of being a mother, I couldn’t have picked a better mate to share the journey with me. I love our wild ride of parenthood, and when the steep hills come, I’m so glad you’re by my side.

We are far from perfect, yes. But for all the times you drive me crazy, I am so quickly reminded of the treasure you are. To be your child is to be lucky…so very lucky.

Happy Father’s Day.

Speaking of lucky, I have five father figures to love today. Happy Father’s Day to Brian, Roly, George, Gary and my dad who I love so very much.

Go hug a father.