The missing one

This post is going to be brutally honest, and open, and it is going to hurt, both to write and to read. For some reason I am in a place of reflection, of looking back, of bringing up memories. I am flipping through old pictures of my babies and rereading blog posts and letting myself go back to other days. And while it's beautiful, it's innocence is alarming to me now. Maybe Lucy's fourth birthday on Sunday is the reason for the place I am in. But I am going to open it up and leave it here because it's haunting my present.



Someone is missing from my family. My brother. It will be 5 years this July. It doesn't "get better". I never understood how or why people say that. How can losing a brother ever "get better." He is gone and we are all still here. But there are more of us now. There are 3 nieces and a nephew that won't know Uncle Brady. They will know who he is, and what he looks like. But they will never hear his laugh, or feel first hand the pride he had in our family. They won't get a big bear hug every time they see him like we did. They'll never have a telephone call answered with "Home of the whopper. What's your beef?" Or hear him talk about how hooked on phonics worked for him. They won't get to ask him what all of his tattoos said or why he never worried about how they would look when he got old. I can't even think about it for his children. His son is 11 and his daughter 7.

There is a song by the Black Keys that Jameson warned me about after he died. It's called unknown brother.

Though I've never met you

And we've spoke not a word

I'll never forget you

Through the stories that I've heard

For you, unknown brother

My baby's mother's in pain

'Cause your soul is in heaven

But your memory remains

Unknown, unknown brother

I'll meet you someday

Unknown, unknown brother

We'll walk through fields where children play

Your eyes shined bright

When you were a kid

Your sisters loved you

And all that you did

Big brother, big brother

Don't worry a bit

Your flame has not faded

Since the day it was lit

Your life was joy

You're mama's only boy

And when the skies are blue

Big brother they're blue for you

We'll smile at pictures

Of you as a boy

Before you retire

To heavenly joy

Unknown, unknown brother

I'll meet you someday

Unknown, unknown brother

We'll walk through fields where children play

So while looking back, I found this photo. Every other time I have seen it, I just remember what happened to break the bouncing bench and how we all laughed. Until this last time. I know this particular moment was just when the photographer happened to hear the crack and turn around to snap. But it's so much more than that. You can't see his face, just know that he was there. All you can see of him, is him walking away, drink in hand. He left his mark, literally. But the rest of us remain. With a smile, and a laugh, and a "can you believe that happened!" 

To Lucille on your 4th Birthday

My favorite pictures of you at 3

My lovely Lucille. You, my darling, are incredible. You are wise beyond your years, funny beyond your understanding, and beautiful beyond comparison. You will, and do, run the world. You forget nothing and remember every detail of any experience or any promise someone has made to you. You never stop talking and often can't get the words out as quickly as you are thinking them. While engaged in one thing you are thinking of a million others, as well as what everyone else should be doing. You are a classic first child and will always be a wonderful leader and example to your younger sisters.

So, for your birthday this year we had a bowling party. You had the hardest time deciding to do that or have a party at home, all because of a hang-up over a unicorn pinata. You could not be convinced that Mama and Daddy would take care of all your wishes because you were not involved in the planning of every.single. detail. You requested roasted lamb with garlic and rosemary as well as braised kale for your dinner. And you made us sing you Happy Birthday twice at breakfast, once for each serving of popover, and twice at your party, once for cake and again for ice cream. All you wanted was legos. And, of course, you got your unicorn pinata.

You had a lot of turmoil about turning four. For months leading up to your birthday you had been anticipating the things you would do once you were four; get your ears pierced, wipe your own bum, etc. As the day drew closer you got more and more anxious and we had to assure you that nothing had to change. The pressure you put on yourself is more than anyone could ever put upon you. You strive for excellence, which is why you often lose your temper, much like your father. I guess it will be our job to encourage without pushing, and to help you relax and accept help along the way.

You told me the other day that when you get older you want to work for Hospice, like Duck does, so you can help people. I have no doubt my dear.

Right now, you have a hard time doing anything without Vada. You are each others best friend and worst enemy. So you BOTH will start school in the fall. Anytime anyone asks you about it, you make sure to clarify that you will be on one side of the building but Vada will be on the other. She is your confidence and pushes you to do things that normally make you uncomfortable. But you are brave my love, so brave. I know school scares you. It scares Mama too. We have spent every day together since you were born. But the truth is, you deserve more. You deserve to learn as much as you can take in, but that Mama can't keep up with. You deserve to make friends. You deserve to be a leader and to teach as you learn. You teach me how to be better every day.

I didn't cry on your birthday this year. You are unlike any other child of any age I know so you turning 4 didn't cause much heartache. But then, I thought about all the time that you and I spent in that white rocking chair. And how every single day since the day you were born, you and I rocked in it at least twice a day at nap and bedtime. And how I don't even remember our last rock. It was the everyday act that I never took for granted. And it's over. Yes, it got a little awkward towards the end, attempting to wrap your spindley legs around me somehow, your head almost in my chin. We rocked both your sisters as they grew in my belly with us. We rocked through late nights, early mornings, sickness, apologies on both sides, and endless discussions about 2-4 year old life. I need to do a better job at creating these moments again. As you get older and understand more and more I know the questions will get more and more difficult, the apologies even bigger. But I never want to lose those opportunities. One of the things that weighs heaviest on my mind as I think about you 3 getting older is how to remain necessary. Not in a clingy sense of the word, but in a way where you will always need your mom.

Being your mother has been the most emotionally and mentally challenging thing I have yet to encounter. You do not let me rest, and you do not let me settle. I am a better woman for what you have done to me. I make so many mistakes and unfortunately you will bear the heaviest consequences of those mistakes as you are the oldest. But it means you will learn the most forgiveness. I will face things for the first time with you, for the rest of our lives.

Keep pushing me my love. I will try to keep up.

All my love,
Mama

Your first picture at 4

Half of nothing

Hazel turned 6 months old this past weekend. Getting past that sentence to write an actual post about her has taken days. This child has me captivated. I am anxious and nostalgic. She makes me want a thousand more babies just like her and not even one more because she is my baby.

Six months is big. It is as if everything is just coasting along with a "new" baby in the family and within a week I am planning her baptism, swapping out car seats, buying bibs and sippy cups, catching her from falling backwards when she sits up, and trying to make her as comfortable as possible while teething. Wait, hold up, weren't you just in newborn clothing a week ago? Now I have three kids who need food?

Much to my dismay, Miss Hazel is super interested in food. It started with the occasional lip smacking during our meals but turned into straight obsession when she started following the food from our plate to our mouths. So, last night she got roasted sweet potato. And she loved it. Her smile spread from ear to ear as she saw her sisters watching her do what they were doing. And then my heart just shattered on the floor. And I immediately nursed her.

But the truth is, she wants in. She wants to be eating and moving and laughing and rolling around with her sisters. When I hold her she lunges forward towards them. She sleeps through the night and sometimes just wants to be laid down to stretch out by herself. She sits up and looks out the window in the car. She is reaching for EVERYTHING! I no longer have to worry about leaving her with her dad for two hours since they discovered Cheers! together. Evidently, when I am gone, all it takes is the theme song to send her to lala land and I come home to her passed out on her daddy. She is killing me gently.

Hazel Magnolia, I don't know what you have done to your mother but I am entranced. I will do my best to help you learn and grow and blossom while simultaneously choking back tears. You have been nothing but pure joy since your first day here and all of your family is completely in love. You make everyone around you smile and just feel good. You are sunshine my love.

Ordinary

      More snow is expected tonight, meaning yet another snow day tomorrow. I am not a fan of winter in the least and certainly not a fan of weather this cold for this long. Yes, it is easy to get down being overwhelmed and exhausted in single digit weather with double digit snow predictions. But while I was contemplating another day of being housebound with 3 children, a new perspective presented itself. Honestly, the snow doesn't change much for us. We are in this amazing stage of our family's life where we get to decide how every moment of every day is spent. Obviously Jameson has work, but the demands of a working mom, school, sports and other obligations have not yet been introduced to our little family. And while some days it would be nice to have something on the calendar, truthfully we are all pretty content with this season of calm. I have never been one to want to be home all the time. I like going out and being out. Even after Lucy and Vada, I would try to get us out of the house every day. But that has completely changed since having Hazel. I don't know if its the work of getting three little girls and myself fed, dressed and out the door or the sense of peace I now feel with where our family is. The girls don't seem to mind either. This morning I got all of us showered/ bathed and told them to go pick out clothes so we could head to the library. I walked in their room to find them dressed in fresh pajamas asking to just stay home. So, we did.

Some days I wake up wondering how to fill an entire day of nothing planned. I get exhausted from the amount of effort it takes, both mentally and physically, to keep up with these little ladies. Thinking of 3 meals plus snacks, a new way of working on letters and numbers, crafts, activities, and then the resulting clean up. I am mom, teacher, artist, cook, maid, clown, nurse, stylist, coach and referee. But not forever. This will be the only time in our life that three kids are all still home full time with me. Lucy and Vada are enrolled in preschool for the fall and our whole world will shift. Our days will be mapped out for us and soon revolve around drop off and pick up. How will we feel then? Will we miss these days? The days of snuggling in pajamas, making anything we want for breakfast no matter how time consuming, and just being home. The days of anytime-at-all baths, dance parties, book reading, block building, hot gluing, pedicures, and cookie baking.

A quote that I read a while ago has been on the forefront of my mind daily during this winter lull. "I love that you keep getting up to the same routine every day and somehow manage to make it a different memory by each night." My girls won't remember this time. They will see it in the millions of photos I have of them in pajamas, snuggling each other in the early morning. They will hear about it when they have their own babies and wonder how they can face another day of being a full time home mom, if they choose to do so. Most importantly, I hope they feel it. I hope these slow, lazy days have taught them the beauty of being content in everyday life. That everyday may not be exciting and adventurous but that it is ok. I hope the bond that they have formed being together every minute of every day as babies and toddlers carries them through their teenage rifts. I hope they know without a doubt  how deeply I felt I was exactly where I wanted to be, doing exactly what I wanted to do, and the sacrifices their daddy made in making it happen. That, evidently, in choosing to be a stay at home mom, I was choosing the magic of the ordinary.

"Do not ask your children to strive for extraordinary lives. Such striving may seem admirable, but it is the way of foolishness. Help them instead to find the wonder and the marvel of an ordinary life. Show them the joy of tasting tomatoes, apples, and pears. Show them how to cry when pets and people die. Show them the infinite pleasure in the touch of a hand. And make the ordinary come alive for them. The extraordinary will take care of itself." 

-William Martin-