good news, lately.

Sometimes I get into a rut of negativity, boredom perhaps; feeling a bit monotonous and uninspired.  I recognize it happening in the moment I snap at my kids or my husband...the days when I feel unappreciated and unnoticed and useless. (self-absorbent, much?)  Sigh.

Although I do recognize that motherhood in and of itself is much of a thankless job, requiring obscene amounts of self-sacrifice, resulting in a daily smack in the face with one's own selfishness. I know this. It's quite obvious, really. But, it doesn't make the monotony or getting pinched and yelled at by my four-year-old, going on fourteen-year-old any easier. And I *may* have cried myself to sleep the other night after he told me he didn't like me. 

Mothering isn't about being liked. I KNOW.  But, it doesn't make those words hurt any less.  Believe me.

I realized, as we enter into this weekend, that it's time for a mental shift; a few moments to find the good news, lately. And in the midst of whatever hell we find ourselves in - major or minor - isn't there always good news?

• Solomon and Rainer slowly waking up together in the same bed, snuggling. They both run into the kitchen where I am starting breakfast, and Solomon exclaims, "I just told Rainer he is the very BEST brother!" 
• A makeshift sprinkler in the backyard (read: my thumb in hose), giggle-filled water play until someone's diaper exploded.
• A delicious mouth-watering meal with my husband, paid for by someone else.
• Placing 3rd place in a 5k run and winning a night in a nice hotel.
• Booking our summer and Christmas travel plans, and feeling blessed for the time and resources to take vacations this year.
• Finding flavored coffee creamer at the grocery store. Multiple! Flavors! Not! Powdered!
• Watching Solomon run at soccer practice, and welling up inside with gratefulness for his health.

These are the days, my friend, these are the days.

all in a week's work.

This week of mothering was filled with high-highs and low-lows.

Rainer is *thisclose* to crawling. It's soo cute. His little bum up in the air, his nose wrinkled with determination, his tiny biceps flexing... ok, not really. It's definitely a mommy-high watching your babies learn and grow and develop.

And then he ate a dead moth. So that was a low point. I should clarify, I did manage to fish it out of his mouth so he didn't actually ingest it. So that's a good thing.

I had the privilege of some one-on-one time with Solo practicing his pedal bike skills. I know I shouldn't brag, but my 3 year old, almost 4 year old, has got SKILLS. Have I mentioned he rides a bike without training wheels? I have? Oh, sorry.

For awhile now he's been good with the pedaling part, turning, and stopping. This weekend I taught him how to start on his own - without a push from mommy & daddy. He looks down at the pedals and asks himself "which pedal is higher?" Then he puts his foot on that pedal, with the other foot still stabilizing on the ground, and he takes off! It was SUCH a high, watching my firstborn master the last step of bike riding, a skill he will have for a lifetime.

And then he got sick. Like, 103.6* (37.9) fever-sick. I should have known when he said he was "really cold" at the park when it was actually about 90 ever-loving-degrees out. I just chuckled to myself and thought, "sheesh, he really is a Mexican."

There is nothing that compares to holding your sick baby. It's an awful, helpless feeling. And it's even worse when he cries out for his daddy and nothing you do seems to console him. In those moments I flash back to when he was a baby, and I was so sick with PPD. The sense of loss I feel is painful. I know most kids want their mommies when they are sick, but mine does not. Because when he needed me most I was not there. And that hurts.

This morning Solo is feeling better, and he went to school. Today is their father's day picnic. Right now he is probably sharing the cinnamon rolls and fresh mango juice with his daddy that I packed for their special time together.

& that makes me smile.

mind blowing moments.

Last night my little family, all four of us, were in the bathroom together. Mr. P & Solo had just gotten covered in dirt and chalk while playing outside, and baby Rainer was (still is) congested and in need of a steamy shower. The baby and I breathed in the steam & watched as the big boys scrubbed themselves of the chalk, Mr. P washing Solo's hair and getting him squeaky clean for a new week of school. When he was done we traded kiddos - I gave Mr. P a nakey baby and Solo wrapped himself in the towel in my arms.

As I watched Mr. P delicately clean the baby, I dried off my big 3-year-old and started to cover his soft skin with lotion, comb his hair, and clip his fingernails. I got him dressed in warm, clean pajamas.

All of the sudden, I was overwhelmed with the fact that I am a parent.

I am a mom to these little boys - and they depend on me for everything. Everything.

Sometimes it's the everyday, simple tasks of mothering that take my breath away.

The intricacy of keeping a child - two children - clean, fed, bathed, comfortable and warm is such an overwhelming responsibility, one that I am constantly "doing," yet not often enough pausing to acknowledge.

It's a beautiful thing, this parenting gig. This denial of self; this struggle to develop, grow, nurture, love and cherish another human being while setting aside our own desires. Sometimes I think I'm too selfish to be a mom... in those moments where I lose my patience and I just want to walk away and be alone.

But, it's too late. I'm in it. Everyday I have an opportunity to rise to the challenge - sometimes I fail miserably. But, sometimes, there are those moments - however small they may be - where I am reminded that I am doing this thing. This mom thing ... and I'm doing it well.

Even if it's just putting two boys to bed with their fingernails clipped and their hair washed, tucked in warm beneath the covers.

They are mine and I am theirs.

It blows my mind.

running boy.

Yesterday Solo ran his first road race! When I signed him up a couple of weeks ago, I was giddy with excitement for the first of many runs in his lifetime. Running is something sweet and special that Mr. P and I share in common; miles and miles laced with sweat and tears, memories, vacations, beaches and trails.

Half Marathons with my dad and sister. Dad dragging me onward when I wanted to faint quit.

Mr. P down on his knee to propose at the end of a 5 mile run, the Seattle Puget Sound our backdrop.

Miles run with family through the trees of Elwood in Santa Barbara.

Mr. P by my side during the last two miles of the Portland Marathon, tears streaming down my face in exhaustion.

Beach runs in Oregon and California with sand beneath our feet.

Discovering the beauty of the San Juan Islands, the inner workings of Vancouver, B.C., the volcanoes of Guatemala, the golf courses in Phoenix, the alleys of Seattle, the ancient ruins of Honduras, the islands of Belize, the post-Katrina rubble of Mississippi, the waterfalls near home.

Sigh.

OK, where was I?

Oh, yes. Solo. His first run. Can you understand the nostalgia I felt as I packed his race day bag, fed him his pre-run breakfast of oatmeal & berries, loaded up the car with the camera, camcorder, gatorade and post-race snacks?

Pride.

Solo was pretty overwhelmed by the crowds of people, ridiculously loud music and crying children... he actually walked almost the entire 1K! Here are my boys nearing the finish, 2nd from last, and my mention of "treats" at the end finally got him moooooving!

Happy boy,

So proud of himself.

I'm proud of you too little man!

first days.

It's been a rough week. After parting with Nora, I was both sad and excited to have a couple of days with Solo entirely to myself before he started pre-school. Monday we stayed in our pj's for way too long, watched cartoons, and didn't drive anywhere. It was great... Besides the continual hitting and scratching and growling of which I was the victim of. What happens magically when your child turns 3 that turns them into mini monsters?!? I'm convinced it's some kind of cruel joke played on those of us who smugly thought we were home free with an angelic child. Hmph.

Yesterday was a repeat of the hitting and scratching and growling, except without the 3 hour nap. So, I'll leave the rest to your imagination.  All I kept thinking was pre-school could not come at a better time.  All of the sudden this child needs structure and discipline and some kind of stimulation that apparently I am not adequately providing. Somehow we made it through the day with a park visit, a trip to the play place at Burger King and the library for new storybooks. Needless to say he was snoring by 7:15 p.m. Sigh.

After a night of tossing and turning with first day of school jitters (that'd be me), today started out rough with Solo falling off the bed at 5:30 a.m. Mr. P & I felt absolutely awful. What a terrible way to start your first day of school! We pumped him with ibuprofen, a hearty breakfast, and let him pick out his outfit for his first day of school. He was rearing to go by 7:15 a.m., bringing me my shoes and literally pushing me out the door. He refused to go potty because he insisted he wanted to "pee in my classroom." That's enthusiasm, people.

My baby is not a baby anymore.

Saying bye to daddy in his office.VERY proud parents. VERY early in the morning.

Already running away from his teacher. That's our boy.I consider making it to 10:00 a.m. without being a teary mess quite the accomplishment. After giving Solo kisses goodbye at 8:00 a.m. when the bell rang, I went straight to our favorite park and walked the 3 mile loop. I got passed by several old men speed walkers, but other than that it was glorious. Now I'm at Starbucks chugging an Americano with cream and munching on grapes while surfing the interwebs. I've got a couple of hours to kill and can't go home because our cleaning lady is there.

I think I could get used to this.

Don't hate me.

Plus also?

Remember that in two months I'll have baby vomit in my hair and legs entirely too hairy and absolutely no free time.

Soaking it in while I still can.

proud wife.

Today is Mr. P's last day of work for the school year. As an administrator, he gets one month off, July 2-Aug 1. We are MORE than ready for life to slow down around here (for him, not me. My life is always pretty chill). Since Solo & I left for Oregon the end of May, Mr. P has been taking 3 online classes toward his administrator license. These are post-master's level classes. These are insanity from what I can tell. I am so glad Solo & I were gone for the majority of the madness.

Mr. P would work 7:00 am to 6:00 pm at school. He would come home, scarf food (Lord only knows what he ate), take Nora for a run, shower, settle into our bedroom with the AC unit on, and do homework until midnight. Every. Day. For a month.

Today it ends.

I'm feeling like a very proud wife. I'm feeling like a supportive friend. I'm feeling lucky.

July 2002, 9 years ago, Mr. P & I went on our first date. If I remember correctly we took my parents' dog to the park and had a picnic. I remember sitting in the back of his little red toyota pick-up and trying really hard to pretend I like dogs to impress him. Look where that got me.

Some time later, maybe a day, maybe a week, I haven't a clue ... Mr. P decided our first date was a little sketch as far as first dates go, so we got gussied up and drove to Portland for dinner at The Old Spaghetti Factory. I suppose that's as fancy as we get around here. I have vague memories of sitting at the kids' play table and taking a picture. No clue. I was 20 years old.

The past 9 years have brought so many adventures, so many memories, so much growth and change. I'm so proud of you, Mr. P, for chasing your dream to be an administrator, and for totally ROCKING your first year as Assistant Principal. We could not be more proud.

What do you say we celebrate tonight?

Speaking of feeling proud, our little "brother" graduated last night from high school. How cute are these three? Solo said he was "going to work" as I strapped him into his car seat. He is obsessed with his little tie and being just like daddy. I love them.

wordless wednesday: prodigy.

Watch out Lance Armstrong!

Solo, 2 years 11 months, can ride a bike... a no-training-wheels-with-pedals-BIKE.

Yes, it's pink, but it's still legitimate.

I don't think my heart could swell any more with pride as I watched him take off from his daddy's grasp.

One more thing to add to my post from yesterday . . . how can this be? How can my baby boy, who just yesterday fit into the crook of my arm, be riding a bike all by himself?

bittersweet.

Happy mother's day to my wonderful Mom!

She is love. She is truth. She is loyalty.

Only wish she wasn't so damn far away. I love you Mom!

Today has been a lovely day to celebrate being a mommy. I awoke at 8:30am to Mr. P caressing my face and grinning, holding fresh "agua fresca de frutas" (basically a delicious natural fruit drink). Solo was still snoozing. We went into his room and just watched him sleep peacefully. I *may* have taken a few pictures. At 10 we had breakfast with a good friend of ours at my most very favorite cafe'.

Delicious.

But. Today is also bittersweet. Maybe it will always be bittersweet for me, I don't know. I will always be reminded that for so many, motherhood is painful right now. Motherhood hurts. For so many, there are tears today. There are questions yelled into the empty air.

And I can never ignore that.

You can read my letter to new moms right now, published over at Postpartum Progress. Katherine is posting a new letter today every hour for 24 hours. If you have time, read them all. These are all written by survivors of that pain, who are now celebrating the greatest joy of their lives - being a mother.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear New Moms,

Welcome to the most paradoxical experience of your life.

Exhilarating … Exhausting.

Mundane … Surprising.

Rewarding … Excruciating.

Fun … Boring.

Wonderful ... Difficult.

Motherhood is all these things and so much more.

Read the rest HERE...

I did it.

I have always been intrigued by other cultures. I have always wished I could travel more. I have always dreamt of Europe. Italy, specifically.

And I did it.

12 weeks pregnant. Nauseous. Scared outta my mind. 21 hours of travel alone. Across seas. No cell phone.

I did it.

I had a million and a half excuses not to.

The money. The anxiety. The bambino. The other bambino. The dog. The money. The timing. The fatigue.

But sometimes you just have to jump in with both feet. I'm learning that timing is never perfect. There is always something that nags at you, that wants to hold you down, that tries to say "not now" or "not yet." I know it's cliche', but we are not promised tomorrow or next summer or next year.

As excruciatingly difficult it was to leave Solo for two weeks (I *may* have cried myself to sleep the first two nights in Germany), I have no regrets. It was a beautiful time of exploration, of discovery, of confidence-building, quality time with the parentals, learning to trust. Trust. Trust. One day at a time.

And Solo was in the loving and devoted care of his daddy. They built a new fence in our backyard. They went for daily popsicle runs. They napped together. They built forts. They played trains for hours. They cooked and cleaned and grocery shopped. Something must have gone right because Solo's new favorite phrase, which he repeats constantly, is "you and me."

That's right, little man.

You and Me.

Heck yeah, I'm proud.

Tomorrow is our 1 year blogging birthday! I am hosting my first-ever giveaway - be sure to come back to enter!

a full heart.

We gave each other gifts. Small gifts, inexpensive gifts, but from the heart.

I can't wait to sip tea from the mug Solo picked out that says "#1 Mama."

::heart drips into puddle::

I gave Mr. P a journal - "a traveling journal" - where we will write one another love letters throughout the year, passing the journal back & forth, always finding it in unexpected places. {Read about the idea from one of my favorite blogs here}

Mr. P gave me a beautiful frame with one of our favorite pictures that Solo took of us. (We're starting him young on our DSLR) He put the photo together in Photoshop with reasons why he loves me listed.

We've come a long way, folks. This is the self-proclaimed Valentine's day hater who gave me a GIFT. And a gift of such romantic porportions. Le sigh.

But, really, truly, if we're being honest...

THIS.

THIS is why I have a full heart today.

Setting up the stage.

Check it.

His first love letter is to his mama.

Caught in the act!

Giggle fest!

Wishing you all a very Happy Valentine's Day!

dreams.

When I was pregnant with Solo-boy, when he was just a pea inside me, and my belly had yet to swell, I was in a church service...sitting in the very back row. The worship leader was a young man, probably still a teenager, so talented and so passionate as he played guitar and sang the most lovely and joy-laced words in Spanish I had ever heard. My eyes filled with tears as I thought about my unborn son. I literally saw a vision of him on a stage playing music, filled with a confidence and a peace I have rarely known.

I cried.

Granted I was riding the roller coaster of pregnancy hormonal-ness, but still. Something spoke to me.

This day, this moment, with my arms wrapped tightly around my belly, my first dream for my son was born.

It was as if I was given a glimpse into the future. I caught a brief glance of Solo-boy's joy and passion for music. The confidence it gave him, overcoming a timid personality, overcoming the labels he may or may not be attached to. 

It was as if this day I became his mother.

This day I became entangled in all the dreams and hopes that come along with that role. I have often thought about that day. That vision of my son with a guitar strapped to his back. That vision of my son with calloused fingers, an intense crease along his brow, droplets of sweat on his forearms.

I have often thought about the first time I would watch him play guitar. I have wondered where we would be. I have imagined the glimmer he would have in his eyes as he played.

It was as sweet as I dreamed it would be.

What are your dreams for your children?

wordless wednesday: moments to cherish.

Speaking of these being the best days of our life, I have a feeling these moments with Solo-boy won't last forever.

Cheek squeeze-age.

Melting hugs.

Please never stop kissing your momma, sweet boy.

a future photographer?

Solo Learning to Shoot Photos from Mr. P on Vimeo.

you remind me.

you are 29 pounds of boy.

you are delicate and soft

but

rough and firm, belly and all.

you are still a mystery to me.

you are someone I will never fully know

and

for that I am grateful.

the daily challenge of you is sufficient.

the way you surprise and remind me

of things

things that my adult mind allows to gather dust.

like yesterday.

when you played swords with a 7 year old,

a boy you just met,

using your popsicle sticks.

where do you learn this stuff?

I am so glad you weren’t shy.

you were you

with reckless abandon.

and yesterday

when you stared with wonder and awe

at a 3 month old.

you felt so big and old.

you felt so different than her

but

I know you aren’t really that different.

and then you tickled her

and you mimicked her expressions

and you caressed her face.

you surprise me

and

you remind me

of the little things that are beautiful.

Prompt:

Write a poem about a time someone made you smile. 

grateful.

Yesterday I celebrated my birthday.

At about 5:30 pm friends started arriving with arms full of their children and foil covered dishes filling our home with the aroma of sweet potato and pulled pork and mac & cheese and bean dip and cinnamon and love.

I've never hosted an official "potluck" before, and I don't really know where I got the idea, besides simply not wanting the pressure to cook on a Tuesday evening. It was a total success in my book. Nothing gave me more joy on my birthday than savoring the home cooked food my own treasured friends made with love, and watching our kids giggle and tickle each other in the backyard. Nothing.

A few years ago I never would have guessed this would be my life. Semi-permanently living in Mexico, a semi-stay at home mom to a fun-loving and affectionate two year old. Watching my degree gather dust on the shelf, but not caring one bit. Enjoying marriage more now than I did 7 years ago when it all first began. A ginormous deer-like dog prancing in the backyard, horchata made from scratch in a pitcher on the table, and the promise of each year just getting better.

Sure, my day started out down the crap-hole. It's not all sunshine & fairy dust around here, in case you haven't figured that out already. Solo-boy screamed from midnight to 2 am. I got up at 7am to clean the house. Solo-boy got up about 8 am. I called in an appointment to the pediatrician. We went to the dog park. Nora's doggie friend PEED ON ME. Yep. Peed on my leg. Happy birthday to me!

We rushed to run a few errands at the mall, including the joy of paying the Gas bill. Then I proceeded to shuttle my son all the way across the city for his appointment. We returned home with a diagnosis of a bronchial infection, I finished potluck preparations, did the laundry, and as soon as he woke up from his nap we were off to the pharmacy.

Basically it was a day filled with reminders that my life is kind of boring. And regular. And just plain hard sometimes. And it doesn't cut a break just because it's my birthday.

But at the end of the day, to hear my home filled with love and laughter, good food and good friends (and good wine), it was all I could do to smile, take a deep breath, and enjoy getting older.

::end of cheesy nostalgic blog post::

simplicity.

Mr. P has been working a lot lately. It comes and goes in waves. Some weeks it's just 7am - 5pm and nothing extra. (still a 50 hour week!) But when there are events or meetings, tack on another 10 or 20 hours. In fact, on Thursday he was gone from before 7 am until 11:30 pm.

I know I've been incredibly lucky up until now to have a husband who is super involved (he still is) and home everyday by 4:00 p.m. As a teacher, Mr. P was with us in the afternoons and all weekend. Now that he's an administrator we've had to give up some of our precious family time. Yes, it's sad. I miss him. We miss him. But, I'm realizing that it's quality, and not quantity, of time that matters most.

On Saturday, he had to work from 8 a.m. to 3 p.m. Solo-boy and I were so excited to finally have him home and spend the afternoon together! The quality time was sweet, you guys. It was simple. It was just the three of us, being together. We had to run a few errands - buy dog food, pick up some paint for touch up around the house, get cash, sign up for a 10K run. But we did it together and we made it fun.

At the pet store we oohed and ahhed at all the cute little pets waiting to get groomed. We played with the doggie toys and bought some treats for Nora. Afterwards, we swung by a park to play on the toys and kick a soccer ball around. The weather was perfect. Cloudy and about 75 degrees. Breezy. We chatted about how blessed we are to be so happy and healthy and enjoying our son to the fullest.

We stopped by the mall to pay a bill and take care of our other errands. Solo-boy LOVES the mall. Especially on weekends, there is the chatter of family and friends, the buzz of energy of little kids running around with balloons and ice cream cones and bags of toys. We went to a sporting goods store to sign up for a race next weekend, and we took the time to let Solo-boy touch all the different shoes, bounce the balls, and feel the fabrics of the running shirts. Simplicity.

On the way home we stopped to get some ice cream at a shop some friends recommended to us. It was about the closest thing to Ben & Jerry's you can get in Mexico without having to sell your car to afford it. (And it was still steep. But out-of-control delicious.)

We splurged and got double scoops and then bought a liter to take home. Solo-boy made oogly eyes with the cute cashier and she gave him a balloon to take home. He was happy.

Simplicity.

At the risk of sounding incredibly cheesy, I must say, I love my life. There have been ups and downs on this journey of motherhood, but I can truly say I love being a mom. I used to be annoyed by moms who would gush about how much they loved motherhood. Probably because deep down I was jealous. But, now I don't care. I will shout from the rooftop.      I          LOVE           IT.

In the car, when our bellies were full of ice cream and we sighed happy sighs after checking errands off our to-do list and enjoying the breeze at the park, and admiring our beautiful son as he climbed up and down the play structure by himself, I told Mr. P "I am sooo privileged to be a mom."  Simple as that.

And he looked at me with a warmth in his eyes and said sincerely, "I'm so glad you said that."

You see, it's taken awhile, but my mindset has completely changed.

Maybe I'll explain more next time. But I think you probably understand.

 

*edited to add:

If you are a mom currently struggling with a postpartum mood disorder, you might read this post and feel sick to your stomach. You might think "I will NEVER get to that place." You might feel helpless and hopeless and dark and alone and scared. I've been there. That's why I can say, with certainty, YOU WILL BE WELL. Let me be your living proof.

our weekend in pictures.

Solo-boy's favorite thing to do these days is dig into the cream cheese with his fingers. yum.

Nora always wants to help with clean up duties!

I've been sick all weekend, so we laid pretty low. Mr. P & I went out to dinner and a movie on Saturday night, even though I felt awful. (Saw The Switch - laugh out loud funny!)

Poor Solo-boy was all cooped up with sick mommy and then the babysitter, so we took a short outing to the Plaza. And of course HAD to buy the obligatory sombrero and guitarra to bring in Independence day with style (Mexico celebrates 200 years this Thursday!)

He acts all innocent like he doesn't like the attention, but we all know he does. Hehehe.

These days we can't sneak out of the plaza without riding the train first.

Please don't send me hate mail for the following pictures. I realize this isn't really "safe", but it's Mexico, people. And it was Sunday. There are NO people out on Sunday. Everyone is home stuffing their faces and sleeping the day away. So it actually was safe. Sort of. But Solo-boy LOVED it. And they stayed in our neighborhood.... First motorcycle ride!!!

When did my kid get big enough to sit on our motorcycle?!?!?!

That's it. We had a nice weekend, I called in sick today and I'm hoping I feel better SOON. It's lingering. :( You can stop reading now if you want. What did you do this weekend?

___________________

by now you probably all know my friend Katie. if you don't, well, you should.

she "tagged" me on her blog (apparently in bloggy-land we still play recess games) and now i'm supposed to answer the following questions.

why not, right?

1. If you could give your child anything that he/she does not already have, what would it be and why?

the answer to this one is easy for me. the task, not at all. what would i give him? a sibling.

2. What do you believe your biggest strength is?

i want to say authenticity. but i don't know if that's true, or just what i wish most for myself.

3. What is the most dangerous thing you have ever done?

i rode on the back of my husband's motorcycle for three weeks through Mexico. oh, and this one other time? we took a bus for 10 hours through Guatemala, jumped off on the side of the highway and waved down a chicken bus to ride into the city. the mexican ladies on the first bus thought we were crazy. oh and also? my host father in Nicaragua was drunk one night and i had no other choice but to ride in the car. that was interesting.

4. And the age old question...if you could talk to anyone alive or dead who would it be and why?

probably the apostle Paul. & i would ask him if he still believes what he wrote about homosexuality and women being silent in church, and also what it is like to see God.

things i do now that i'm two

I go to Krispy Kreme.I jump rope at birthday parties.

I ate my first sucker.we discovered I'm an artist!my work of art.i got my haircut last night for school.i'm in pre-school! and i'm VERY brave

community

Community is, according to Webster:

• a group of people living in a particular local area
• common ownership
• a group of nations having common interests
• agreement as to goals
• residential district: a district where people live; occupied primarily by private residences
• (ecology) a group of interdependent organisms inhabiting the same region and interacting with each other

But, really, it is SO MUCH MORE.

Yesterday we celebrated Solo-boy's 2nd birthday. Our house was filled with people. The theme was soccer & everyone came wearing soccer jerseys. We shared delicious food. We drank fresh mango juice. We glowed with joy watching our children interact and laugh and cry and shriek. We chased balls; we jumped & flung around in the bouncy house. We beamed with pride as our boys shared the toys and the balls and gobbled up the cake.

We sang Happy Birthday to my sweet boy and he buried his nose in my shoulder. Then he sheepishly blew out his candle and smiled at everyone. He opened beautiful gifts of tools and books and puzzles and trucks and handmade wooden animals. We read the cards that all said "We love you Solo-boy. We love you soooo much!"

At 2:00 when everyone was gone and my son was warm in his bed, his chest rising & falling; his body decompressing the adrenaline and excitement of friends and sugar and piñatas filled with candy ... I exhaled. I picked up all the trash and wiped down the countertops and mopped the floor. I soaked in each moment and each memory of our house bursting with goodness and my son surrounded by people that love him. And I thought to myself...

This? It doesn't get much better than this.

Community: being surrounded by people, people that love your children.

This is what life is all about.

Happy Birthday, to my boy!

Today, two years ago, Solo-boy was born. Happy birthday to my loving son!

I have a couple of thoughts today on his special day.

When I was pregnant I thought we would have 2, maybe 3 kids. I thought I’d start trying to get pregnant again when Solo-boy was about 10 months old. I wanted to pop my kids out and have a chaotic, fun, baby-filled home.

Well, my friends. Here I am, my baby turning two and I’m no more pregnant than your mom.

It kinda makes me sad for what could have, would have, might have been if my uninformed dreams had become reality. And, yet, I realize now more than ever that making our own plans in this life is a slippery slope. We so often set ourselves up for disappointment, when the real joy lies in enjoying life IN THE MOMENT. So, today I choose to cherish my one & only son, my goofy sidekick, celebrating his life & the joy it brings me.

Other thoughts that inevitably flood my mind on this day are memories of August 2, 2008. I feel a little bit melancholy when I remember the day of Solo’s birth. (And I KNOW I’m not alone in this. Soo many moms struggle with the way their birth-days turn out.)

The happiest day of my life? Actually, no. It was a happy day, yes. But also a very painful day, a very frightening day, a very confusing and lonely day. And you know what? It’s OK for me to say that. It’s OK for me to feel all of those feelings.

Today, as the mom of a two-year-old, I also feel overwhelmed with pride. We’ve come so far. We’ve changed so much. We’ve grown closer. He brings me so much joy. To spend my days with him and witness his personality develop more each day is possibly the greatest gift I’ll ever experience.

It feels so good to say that. And to really believe it.

I know we whimper about this all the time, but our babies really do grow so fast.

This picture was taken last week on the Oregon coast. Something about it – what he’s wearing, maybe, or the way he’s standing – immediately flashed an image of Solo-boy as a teenager the first time I looked at it. My throat got a little tight. Palms a little sweaty.

I hope I’m doing all that I can to enjoy each day, each moment with my little boy.

Happy birthday Solo. You’re two. I love you.