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Video offers beautiful subtleties that pictures just can’t: my mom’s affectionate mannerisms, my nephews’ voices, the twinkle in my niece’s eye when I tell her how gorgeous she is, and the slow progression of my husband’s mischievous smile when he’s said something he knows I’d deem inappropriate.
carrying my fuchsia camping chair into Bantam football games and unfolding it for me, only to pack it back up afterward... This is love
Little boys, who believe with their whole hearts, bouncing around in cotton pajamas. Shimmering lights on sturdy trees. Packages cinched exquisitely with glossy, gold ribbon.
You emanate this luminous, soothing aura throughout entire rooms. Everyone is happier, more present. This is your magical power.
Our Owen. The first born. The leader. The one who turns seven today. The one who is a fascinating, delicate mix of baby and tween.
When you go to sleep in a room clouded by a heavy smog of resentment, sometimes you wake up and the space has cleared. Other times, you flutter your eyelids and think, "Am I still angry? Why yes, yes I am."
1,051,200 minutes of passion, celebration, adventure, tears, tenderness, buffoonery, exasperation, growing pains, laughter, and love.
Sometimes those three words are hidden in everyday conversation. We're loved. We just have to listen carefully.
This is hopeless. I don't have time for this. This never-ending back problem is wrecking my dreams.
There is plenty of time for me to get to where I want to be. My body is a living, breathing miracle.
My favorite is when you smile with your lips together. You tilt your head slightly, and your expressive, Carolina blue eyes become crescent moons. The dimple on your left cheek is the cherry on top of an already perfect ice cream sundae.
Some days I'm peaceful and Buddha-like. "This is my journey. I'll be healed when the timing is right." Other days I'm impatient, uncertain, and sour. "Journey, schmourney. Screw the journey. This sucks."
Let me feel joyful when the sun shimmers on my cheeks and shoulders for the first time in months. Spring is here! Let me shout it out loud with arms stretched like a living cliché.
Your hair like soft feathers,
Your heart is pure peace,
You've captivated everyone,
Our obsession won't cease.
Character encounters are a vital component of many families’ holidays to Disney theme parks. Your little princess has been watching The Little Mermaid for five years, and she finally gets to meet her beloved Ariel fin-to-fin!
I wish I could lift your tiny rib cage over my head forever, the way I do when I'm laying on the floor, looking up at you, airplane style. Your tiny, fit frame is still easy to hold. I look up, nearly blinded by that buried dimple of yours, dazzling like a marquee diamond.
"Oh, how thrilling!” they’d burst upon discovering that Mickey Mouse signed my paychecks. “That must be so fulfilling, so magical! Your parents must be so proud!” The truth is, it was fulfilling, and they were proud, but there was something about that question, “Where do you work?” that pretzeled my insides.
You’re my Valentine, because we’re lovers and companions. We’ve got a Will and Grace friendship fused with soap opera passion, and we know that’s like, impossibly rare, so together we fight. And we stay. And we love.
And then. Walls collapse. Someone caves. “I’m sorry.” “Me too.” A light kiss is offered and accepted. Hair is pushed out of the way so that four eyes can meet. Chests are pressed firmly. Grace is shown.
Life is not always live music, sloppy kisses, and sushi dates. Sometimes it’s realizing you can’t afford your dream apartment. Sometimes it’s searching for an emerald pheasant birthday card amidst generic cupcakes and balloons.
Your supple cheeks and fingers long,
Your meek and loving soul.
A pure sunrise, our little lamb
Each heart you touch, you hold.
When I receive his text messages, I am free to write back immediately. I don’t have to calculate the appropriate read-to-respond delay ratio. (That’s a thing, right?) I don’t dig for a witty retort; I don’t second-guess. Does this sound clingy? Are capital letters too intense? I’d better go all-lowercase. I just respond.
I beam when a freshly engaged friend flashes her shiny, new ring- a promise of forever from her real-life Romeo. The only part of this “I’m Engaged!” scenario that makes me cringe is when someone, usually a giddy, well-meaning girlfriend, fires that classic response at the bride-to-be faster than it took Kim Kardashian to say, “Nevermind, I Don’t.”
Long eyelashes tied in loose bow ties,
Tiny creases between cerulean sea eyes,
Cotton cap hugging your baby doll ears,
Moonlight dazzles, we cry happy tears.
2 years old on 2.2.22. How cool is that?! Sometimes when we’re out, and I’m trying to find a place to change your diaper or figure out where I can stop to feed you, I suddenly realize how much you rely on me. It sounds silly- of course you do- you’re two. But…I don’t know, I just feel so honored that I am the one that gets to take care of you and give you the things you need. It’s the best job I’ve ever had. Times a million.