Kitchie Coo

I love being a mom.  I love waking up and seeing my daughters and holding their still sleep-warmed bodies in my arms.  They are getting to the age where I look forward to our days together and what adventures might await us. When they were babies it was harder to approach the day with any thoughts other than schedules, meals, naps. Now we can color, play play-doh, walk (skip! run!) to the park, pick flowers (dandelions) in the yard, eat ice cream, snuggle and watch movies together on a rainy day, etc etc.  These days together are becoming more fun and less work.  I say that rather loosely, because they are still a lot of work, but now there's less drudgery during the day and more happy moments. In a few words...we are settling in.  We are settling into our family, finding a rhythm.  A beautiful rhythm I love.

I mean, how can you not adore a day spent with these two?




Life is good.  I spend most days home with the girls, but have my job at the bakery a few mornings a week to give me some adult time and do something I adore.  Still...I need some me time.  I have been finding less and less time to connect with me lately.  I found myself looking in the mirror the other day and thinking, "I look like your typical middle-aged mom.  I feel identityless...I look and feel like every other sleep-deprived, haggard, slightly overweight, unkempt mother out there.  And how, how did I become that woman?"  I didn't like the way I looked, the way I felt, the way I was a little perplexed about who this person was staring back at me in the mirror.  This was not an overnight change, this is something that's been in the works for the past few years, and that has slowly crept up on me.  I was suddenly staring at a person I don't really want to be.  Huh.

So, here we are at Mother's Day.  Mace asked what I'd like to do for the "big day", and the only thing I could think of was: be all alone by myself.  That would be the most beautiful gift in the world.  I couldn't say the words though. They felt selfish and wrong.  Except, that I never ever get to be selfish anymore.  And the more I stewed on this thought, the more I only wanted to be completely alone on Mother's Day.  And so, I finally spoke the words, cringed a little bit and heard from my ever-patient, ever-awesome husband, "Do it!".

And now I'm alone.  I'm drinking a beer and writing (something that's been desperately missing from my life) and soaking up the complete silence surrounding me.  Peace.  And.  Quiet.  This might  have to become a tradition.  It's Mother's Day.  A day for me.  And I'm taking it!

Happy Mother's Day to all my moms and all the moms I love out there.  Hope you're finding yourself in this beautiful day.  XOXO

"Anna, how old are you?"

"I two!" (insert big, proud grin).

Anna turned 2 last week.  Two.  2.  Two years old.  Two years takes on such a different meaning when its attached to a child's years in this world.  My child.  My beautiful, awesome, energetic, loving, adorable, spunky, silly, sweet, child.  My child, who has magically morphed in front of my eyes from a helpless, tiny little baby to this amazing human being.  In only two little years. Goodness gracious I've gotten emotional over this milestone.


I still call her my "tiny itty bitty little baby", even though I know she is a toddler, a child.  But, somewhere in my mind, she will always be my itty bitty.  To watch her grow over the past two years has been the biggest joy in my life.  My heart swells with a kind of love, tenderness and pride I find a bit incomprehensible.  How is it possible for one little being to so completely turn my world and my heart inside out?



Mace and I were talking on Anna's birthday about the day we brought her home from the hospital, and how surreal it all felt.  Life was suddenly...different.  Different in a body-slam-you-into-this-experience kind of way.  I don't know how anyone can truly be prepared for that experience...those first few confusing days home from the hospital...the disbelief that they actually let us take this baby home with us...that she is ours to love and hold...those sleepless, hazy, endless nights.  I am not sure how we made it through.  Well, actually yes I do, lots of family and friends and love...and of course, each other.  But, the point I'm trying to make is that we found a "new normal" after welcoming Anna into our world.  A new normal, that has been the most amazing normal ever.  She's nestled herself so snugly into our lives and hearts that I truly feel like she has been with us forever.  I have memories long before she was born, that I have to remind myself that she was not a part of.  She is the most beautiful extension of Mace and me that I can possibly imagine.



This 2-year milestone has shaken me emotionally in a way that nothing in her life has so far.  Its made me realize that she's not a baby anymore, that she is actually growing up.  I am realizing I won't forever be able to swing her up onto my hip and dance around the living room.  She won't forever straddle my lap with her head in the crook of my neck and say bedtime prayers.  She won't forever light up when I enter the room and run to me with outstretched arms, my favorite gleeful chant on her lips "Momma!  Momma!".

But, I remind myself, there will be other awesomenesses to replace the ache of missing my baby on my hip, in my arms, around my neck.  There will be many more times when she'll dance with me, but holding my hands and flying wildly in a circle using her own two feet.  I'll lay snug next to her on her bed while we say bed time prayers.  And hopefully, there will always be a little light there when she sees me enter the room.  There will be new interactions, new conversations, new experiences.  Every day, every new stage and age has been my favorite so far.  I have faith that instead of mourning the passing of her babyhood, that I will continue to rejoice in each new day, each new milestone, each new age and stage and that everyday will continue to be my favorite new day with her.


Happy 2nd Birthday my sweet, sweet Anna.  I'm so looking forward to watching you grow into this beautiful life of yours.


P.S. I'll be back soon with some fun Sesame Street party food ideas!  Anna is still talking about her Elmo "cake-cakes".

Patience is a virtue, or so they say.  And so, virtuous I am not.  I am always waiting for something. Right now, its for this little tiny baby girl growing in my tummy.  I am so anxious to meet her.  To breathe in the scent of my newborn, to nurse her, to stare in awe at her perfect little fingers and nose.  To not be pregnant anymore, and just get on with it.  Get on with life, with getting to know this little being, with moving forward and finding a family groove.


But then, there's this other little girl.


And I want time to come to a screeching halt.  I want to soak up every single second, every word, every smile, every hug, kiss and snuggle.  She's changing so much, becoming this amazing little human right before our eyes.  This little human that we focus every ounce of our energy on right now.  This time we have together right now with her, alone, is so fleeting.  Anna will become one of two pieces, that make up the center of our world.  Our time will be divided.

I can't help but feel guilty about making her share the center of the universe with someone else. But, then I remind myself that this "someone else" is her sister.  Someone she will, hopefully, love sharing the world with.  Maybe she will be as awestruck as Mace and I by the new human living in our home.  Maybe she won't even notice that the balance has shifted.  I do not remember a time before my sister, and I was 5 when she was born.  In my memory, she has always been there.  I know in my heart that the same will be true for Anna.

Still, I am scared of the transition.  I realize I am wholly relying on myself to center Anna's universe for her, and this I cannot do.  I can be there to love her, to help her recognize her feelings, to guide her.  But the rest is up to her.  It sounds ridiculous to put the weight of that on a two year-old, but I suspect the reality of it is much less dramatic than what is going on in my head.  Families make the transition from one-to-two every single day in this world with little consequence, except probably a whole lot more love and joy in their lives.

So, for now, I will embrace that so called virtue and be patient.  I will soak up our last solo months with Anna, smother her with love, and when the day arrives, I will suddenly have two beautiful girls to smother with love.  And life will still be pretty damn good.

Our family of (almost) 4.  Taken by our dear friend Hope.