you work so hard for us. every day you’re pushing yourself harder and harder to support us, your little family. i know that sometimes it can be really tough out there doing it on your own, and i just want to say: thank you. thank you for being you. thank you for being as hard working, intelligent and amazing as you are.
yesterday we did something for you. we got you your dream car. and that smile on your face? the excitement in your voice? worth every penny, my love. i’m happy we could make one of your dreams come true. let’s get working on fulfilling the rest of them.
love you always.
it’s been a while since i shared one of these lists, and truth me told i probably could have listed twenty more. that, my friends, is the thrill of motherhood!
- everyone and their sister has an opinion about how you should be raising your child. my rule of thumb? i have 3 mothers whose opinions i trust and whom i admire who i go to for advice. any other unsolicited advice goes in one ear and out the other.
- cutting my hair to above my shoulders was one of my biggest time savers yet. i highly recommend it.
- there will come a time where the second you put your child down on the change table he is wailing and fighting you the entire time. i cannot wait for this phase to be over!
- mealtimes are exhausting, especially with a picky eater. then there’s the dishes to clean, the high chair and the floor around the high chair. three times a day. just sayin’
- smoothies are a great way to sneak in veggies and other goodies. my son is addicted.
- it never really gets easier. your biggest worries change day to day, and some things do get easier, but something else will always become harder at the same time. i used to always turn to my mom friends and say “please tell me it gets easier?” i’ve learned it’s a flat out dumb question.
- any time a stranger comments on how cute your kid is, you will an immense sense of pride. yes: you helped create that cute kid.
- don’t even bother putting anything your kid can’t get into at his level, because he will get in to it, no matter how many times you tell him no. speaking of no. while he’s just now old enough to understand the meaning of the word, he still thinks its funny and laughs before running away.
- the first time you realize it’s too quiet, and turn to see your kid sitting quietly on his little couch, playing with a toy will be one of your proudest moments as a parent, especially if you have a very busy boy like i do.
make sure to check out my first and second “surprising things about becoming a mother” installments, and as always, let me know what you’re learning these days!
i’m not quite sure when it began,
this fight for space in bed.
one night I realized I was hugging the edge of the mattress
another night I was elbowed in the side of the head
and yet another night he was the one teetering on the edge of the mattress
shivering because I was hogging all the covers
somewhere along the line we seem to have become bad at sharing this space
and that worries me greatly
(what does it all mean, anyways?)
i’m suddenly thinking back to all the movies I’ve seen
depicting married couples sleeping in separate twin beds
and hell if I’m going to let that happen to us
i’m going to go ahead and blame it on my propensity to be an awfully light sleeper
which, combined with his snoring habit, equals disaster.
(not to mention a 14 month old who still isn’t fully sleeping through the night)
i love my sleep, I really do
and I’m a total brat if I don’t get the required hours
so all i can think about is
how on earth do we fix this?
why can’t I shut my mind off tonight long enough to drift off?
all these thoughts keep me up at night
even more so than playing subconscious tug of war over mattress real estate
this week was so challenging, but i was able to dig through it all and see (and capture) a lot of the goodness of our days. as such, i ended up with a lot of photos, and so this week is two full spreads and an insert! These first pages are some of my favorites that i’ve ever put together.
i love this photo, and i loved using little banners from the studio calico may kit to date the spread.
this second spread is all over the place, but i refuse to make any changes because what i wanted recorded is there, and that’s the whole point!
too much good in the week.
the insert, which covered our second attempt to get DJ into the pool. slightly more successful than the first, so we’re making progress.
* project life
is a product, system and a lifestyle created by becky higgins
. in 2014, i’m creating spreads throughout the year. here are all of my pages from 2013
i am always capturing:
my first cup of coffee in the morning
simcoe, stretched out in the streaming sun
the light dancing through the front doors
the books i’m reading
dj interacting with anyone, everyone
what i’m cooking, or snacking on
my husband, working around the house.
the mess spread across the family room floor
the crumbs left under dj’s high chair after every meal.
what i don’t capture enough:
the seven o’clock light dancing in our front yard,
peeking through the palm trees
as the sun makes it descent.
it was beautiful tonight.
tonight after dj’s bath
i held him in his chair
and sang to him, softly, very quietly
because after all this time
i’m still too nervous
to let dom hear me sing.
for those fifteen minutes –
while i held my not so small son in my arms
and smelled the baby shampoo in his hair
and cupped his soft thighs in the palm of my hand –
all was right in the world.
all was perfect in the world.
most days its hard to remember that he won’t always be this small.
he won’t always let me hold him before bed
he won’t always stare up at me with those big, dark eyes of his
and smile when i start to sing
he won’t always make that soft moan as he drifts off
and slowly reach up to touch the side of my face,
as if to say: i love you, mom.
i suppose that what i’m trying to say is:
tonight was beautiful, and
i need to soak in these fleeting moments.
today was tough in an intrinsic kind of way
meaning: i brought it all on myself.
this habit i have of being consumed by my thoughts
is so, so bad for me in so many ways.
i used to love fridays
before becoming a mother.
now, especially being a stay at home mom,
all the days just blend together.
friday has lost its luster.
any other day, now.
i have one hour to improve my mood
to shrug off the day (so far)
before putting on a smiling face
and meeting friends for dinner
so i came here, to this space,
hoping to find the answers.
just as i expected.
happy friday, anyways.
i have this thing for men in their forties.
rob lowe, patrick dempsey, robert downey jr.
i tell dom: “heck, it bodes well for you.”
i’m not sure what it is, though. maybe:
the sexy salt and pepper hair
that they’re experienced
that they have their sh*t together
and a few (hundred) other things
dom is thirty-eight and
looking better than he did the day i met him.
(i’ve never told him that, maybe i should)
men are so lucky that way.
they get better with age
so i say to him,
as he complains about the growing number of grey hairs on his head:
“you have nothing to worry about,
you’re as sexy as ever”
and i mean it.
just wait until he’s in his forties.
i won’t be able to keep my hands off of him.
if he grew some nice scruff (my weakness)
then it would really be on.
(and this obsession with age
as my thirtieth birthday approaches
is getting kind of old,
don’t you think?)
i just can’t shake the feeling that i’m meant to live somewhere with open, green fields and dark, chipped wood under my feet. open cupboards and mismatched clay coffee cups stacked on the counter next to a day old pot of coffee. a place where wooded trails are just around the corner and you know all of your neighbors by name. a house with wooden window panes and sheer white curtains, and a yard full of tall grass for dj to roam in. the sparkle – the newness – of las vegas is beginning to wear off.
all i wanted was a few more moments.
okay, that’s not entirely true:
i wanted a few hundred more.
i’m not sure why i’ve suddenly thought of this but i’m recalling – with a smile and a warm heart – helping my best friend go to the washroom on her wedding day, gathering the fabric of her dress in my hands and holding it, with my head cast downwards and my eyes closed, as she peed. i remember at the time thinking of how it reminded me of all the times, while getting ready to go out, all my girlfriends would gather at one of our houses and get ready together, an event that more often than not meant we would have to pee while the others gathered around the mirror. it’s something so silly, but looking back it makes me long for those moments when my closest friends were just a fifteen minute drive away instead of thousands of miles by airplane. so many of my thoughts these days begin like this one did: with fond memories, yet they end with utter loneliness and longing.
i want to be the kind of woman who never lets the fruit bowl go empty.
during pregnancy i had all these ideas about the kind of mother i was going to be. i would possess endless patience. i would play when he wants to play, make silly faces all day long if they would make him smile, and hold him in my arms for as long as he will let me. i guess sooner or later you have to accept that sometimes things don’t turn out the way you hoped they would, and that maybe doing the best you can is better than being perfect.
i’m at such a loss as to how i feel about this. this morning, as i laid in bed it occurred to me that what i might really want is for them to give me a reason to say no.
Excerpts from my journal, inspired by Ronnie.
i have less than three weeks left in my twenties. and, confession? i’m terrified. when i voice this concern out loud i am ninety nine percent of the time greeted with the words “oh you’re still so young,” or “thirty is nothing,” and as right as that may be, it’s how i feel. (and why, i wonder, does society have such a way of minimizing and trivializing another person’s worries? why do we do that?)
i don’t feel old, nor do i feel particularly young. in so many ways i’m still that young girl furiously scribbling down her overwhelming number of thoughts into her journal, the one who needs to create something, anything, on a daily basis.
and then there is the side of me that i struggle with: the “i-don’t-quite-feel-like-an-adult” version of myself. and thirty is it, i mean, you’re an adult whether you like it or not. so all those ideas i had about what i would be doing by now, all that i would have done, and all that i was headed towards? they’re just that now: ideas. ideas that didn’t come to fruition. and there’s something so depressing about that.
thirty. it always seemed so far away, yet here it is, just around the corner. and i’m not ready. i’m not even close. truth is: i’ve always been one of those people who seem to constantly be wishing time away for one reason or another, but this birthday? as far as i’m concerned it can never come around and i’d be perfectly happy with that. i’d stay in this sleep-deprived, fussy baby, limbo stage forever if it meant staying in my twenties.
if only, right?
only three weeks left.