We traveled just over 1,000 miles to celebrate the birth of a marriage.
Not just any marriage.
Well, of course it was the kind that would have us driving a thousand miles with a baby.
We arrived early to explore the town and spend extra time with the queen of my heart.
(So glad we did.)
Since arriving home, we've been recovering, yoga-ing, writing, eating, kind of- sort of getting back into a routine...and not really sleeping.
I've been extra sensitive lately and a little angsty, and I think the lack of adequate sleep just might be the culprit.
Today he is 9 months old.
If you look closely, you might be able to see evidence that he loves to feed himself.
(That's peaches, pancakes, and yogurt adorning his face, shirt, and body...and maybe a little in his stomach.)
He also loves water and bubbles (which helps with after-breakfast clean-up), the color red, "reading" to himself, wheels, electronics, climbing, his tunnel, and just generally being a crazy little boy.
He's cheerful even when woken up too early, and I think his favorite food is a toss-up between watermelon and banana.
My baby is 9 months old- so much and so little time all at once.
My baby sister moved to the lucky state of Mississippi today. [I don't really think of her as being younger than me. "Baby" is one of my preferred terms of endearment. Baby sister, baby girl...] I said goodbye to her around 11:20 last night and then cried on the way home. The best man I know held my hand and looked up prices for roundtrip tickets. In the morning, he got me a cup of my favorite coffee in a well-played attempt to start my day well.
I wrote "help my students learn and BE PRESENT" on my list of tasks. I did, and I was. And with a cup of great coffee in my hand and just about two few hours of sleep, I had possibly the best day I've ever had with my students.
And then I left. I went straight from work to the best chocolate shop in town. I ordered a chocolate peanut butter cupcake [which I'd purposely saved room for] and forgot to take a picture because I was just enjoying my cupcake and more importantly, precious moments with my two beautiful friends [those women are fantastic mothers, have hearts of gold, fight for what's important, and aren't afraid to be honest about themselves].
We walked down the street in the rain, and I just kind of loved that. Maybe it was the destination; maybe it was the company. We scoured our favorite everything-is-handmade store, talked with the super-sweet owner [whom we are all individually becoming friends with] about all kinds of things [including potlucks], and spent some money. I'd been planning on buying shoes or a dress or something for an upcoming wedding; I ended up with some definitively "me" jewelry [and the determination to put a cap on my spending...you know, after the bachelorette party I am attending tomorrow night, the wedding lunch I am putting together, and a few gifts I'd like to purchase...]
Today was simple and sweet, and I'm grateful for it. I'm grateful that I have a sister who I adore. I'm grateful that I have students who let me into their lives enough to allow me to be involved in their efforts to do something great for themselves and their children. I'm grateful that the best man I know is my husband and that I have friends who really, truly, deep-in-the-cracks-of-their-hearts care about me. I'm grateful for the opportunity to live each present moment.
I wore those shoes at my wedding when I was 21 years old. Before I had graduated college. When I was so young and still ironing out all my insecurities.
Leading up to the wedding, I worried. About the details, about spending my whole life with this person I'd said yes to on a romantic fall evening, about losing all my privacy, yes. But also, that I just wasn't measuring up. I'd invited few friends from college because I truly had few with whom I had a close relationship. I counted how many friends Tim had on his list versus how many I had. And when I had fewer, I felt like I wasn't measuring up.
I wanted to prove that I was good enough. That I was a good friend. A good everything. I didn't know how to recognize my make-up, accept it, embrace it, love it. But I knew how to judge. I knew how to hide. I knew how to scrape and struggle up insurmountable walls just to prove myself when I could have walked around them.
My wedding was beautiful. Undoubtedly, if I could go back, I would make some changes. But it was beautiful. They were there- those people that, even when I didn't love, believe in, or appreciate myself, they did. And so was he- the man who knows more about my heart than anyone else and still thinks I'm beautiful. Worthy, even.
And so were those shoes. Waiting patiently on a chair. Because I'd kicked them off and danced the night away. I'd shoved all my insecurities into a corner and let myself fill up with joy and life...through kisses and smiles and dancing.
Since then, I've been cleaning out that corner. Getting rid of it instead of hiding it away. But occasionally, I find some. Gunk, filth, dirt. And then? I enlist some of them- those people that I have been brave enough to show that dirt to and who have come closer instead of backing away. It seems like a better plan than hiding.
And then? We dance.
Katie, did you see that I wore a tiara on my wedding day?
It's true. You and I have more in common than you might realize.
Several weeks ago, I skipped my ordinary yoga class to visit Hello, Bluebird with
Danielle, Dayna, and Steph
Not only did I end up having a great time with 3 beautiful ladies that I love, but I also discovered this.
And just because it reminds me so much of Katie