The Magic of Santa Clause

As I prepared to set off on my weekly Sunday errands, I decided to invite my 3.5 year old to tag along. O and I zipped around town returning movies, picking up some household necessities, and dropping by our local food co-op. After the must-dos were done, we ducked into our local toy store for some time at the train table and a little holiday wish list browsing.

We raced trains, selected Christmas must-haves, and picked out a few toy ideas for the little brother. We then headed over to the attached deli to grab a hot chocolate.

As we made our way down the hall from the toy store to the deli, we approached a man dressed in layers and a heavy overcoat. He was hunched over with his head down on one of the cafe-style tables that line the hallway outside the store. His face was covered with an overgrown grey-white beard, and lines and creases etched its surface in an almost map-like story of struggle.

He has, for as long as I remember, been part of the landscape of my hometown. During the winters of my childhood, I recall sitting in the back seat of our family car, layered in the warmth of a turtleneck, a wool sweater and a coat. I would see him, this large, soft man. He too was layered, and yet his layers were tattered and exposed. He huddled in the corner of the drafty city parking garage.

He is quiet and introverted, while simultaneously friendly and reassuring. The local businesses know him well, and often allow him to grab a warm drink and an empty seat for some time off the streets. He is even welcome in the local cop shop, where he occasionally grabs a few hours of shut-eye.

As we approached his table, I kept a firm glance on O. I could see his gaze locked on the old, soft man. I anticipated the inquisition that was to come. "Mommy," he whispered, not realizing he already had my attention. "Why is he sleeping?". "What," I replied, attempting to buy myself some time to form the best response. "Why is Santa Clause sleeping," O whispered.

In that moment, my oldest son's innocent heart made my own swell with love. A man that too many see as merely a vagrant, my babe sees as Santa Clause, the creator of magical moments and wonderful gifts.

"Well sweetie, he must be tired from going over every one's wish list and gathering all the goodies he plans to pass out" I uttered.

"He needs his rest so he'll be ready for Christmas," he reassured.

Return

So, I'm heading back. Back to this space that I created for myself. Back with the renewed knowledge that this space is for myself. And my babies. And ahh, I'm back because of those babies who are growing and changing and driving me intermittently to the depths of joy and the throes of insanity at any given moment.

More to come, soon, but for now, I'm committed to getting back at it.

Blessings Abound

This has been a hard week on too many levels to articulate.

However, this morning, I was standing at my two-year-old's changing table, going through the motions, distracted by my thoughts of how all the hard stuff would turn out, and something pulled me away.

"Mama, I not just wet, I poopy?" My boy said inquisitively.

"Yes, O, you are poopy." I replied.

"Stinky poopy yucky," He said, again, in a questioning manner.

"Yes, honey, the poopy is stinky, but it's o.k."

"Love you mama." O uttered, this time with a definite and assuring tone.

"I love you too, baby," I replied, completely caught off guard, and irresistably pulled into connecting with my boy, rather than swirling around with the thoughts consuming my head.

In that moment, over a stinky diaper, I was brought back to all I have to be thankful for.

It didn't have to be this way.

I didn't have to have two healthy thriving little boys.

I don't come from a place where such blessings are unappreciated.

I am the only healthy child of three in my family.

One of only two surviving children.

I never thought it was possible for me to have healthy children. It's not that the health struggles my siblings have had to deal with are genetic, they are not. It's just that when one family is dealt such a challenging deck, you learn to play in the world of challenges, and that becomes your norm.

It took me a long time to get pregnant with the O, and I took it as a sign that it wasn't intended to be so. But then, three years after the trying began when we weren't even looking, we learned that I was pregnant with the O.

After the joy of discovering that I had a little being, my son, growing in my belly, I became consumed with waiting for the other shoe to fall. First it was waiting to miscarry. Then it was waiting for the level two ultrasound to reveal a fatal abnormality. Then it was waiting for a difficult emergency induction to result in life-altering changes.

And yet some how, some way, after all the waiting, we were graced with a healthy child. From the moment I first gazed upon my first-born, my baby boy, pink and howling with a strong, healthy cry, all that defined my past was put into perspective. All of the challenges of living a childhood filled with the constant uncertainty as to whether my siblings would share my tomorrows, and the frequent loneliness necessitated by more pressing needs, fell into its proper place in that moment.

The challenges of my yesterdays have undoubtedly defined who I am today. I don't take the dawn of any new day for granted, as I realize that for any one of us this day could be our last.
My siblings' struggles have taught me that a person is defined by their soul, not their abilities. I have learned that life is defined by relationships, not accomplishments.

The lessons of my history, and the blessings of my present, lend so much to be thankful for.

I just have to remember what my focus should be as I muddle through the hard times ahead.

Captured Memories

When Baby E was six weeks old we packed up our new family of four and headed out for family pictures.

While such an undertaking is typically crazy and stressful, Stacey Rainer, who is a mother of (six, I think) and a wonderful photographer in the Chambana area, made the experience an amazing one. She captured beautiful shots of our family in its natural state. Rather than trying to force us to pose, she shot away as I rocked and nursed Baby E, Mr. O munched on cookies she provided, and the Hubs read a story to Mr. O. It was a wonderful experience, and I'll treasure the pictures forever.

I invested the majority of our photo budget on prints for around the house, but I decided to shell out a few extra dollars for a disc of photos that I can use in a montage of Baby E's first year.

I thought I would share a few of those photos here. Stacey deserves the advertising, as limited as it may be on my humble blog. So if you're in the area and looking for an amazing photographer, consider her among your options.

Smiley Goose

We just returned from a wonderful family vacation to Colorado.


We had an amazing time, and yet I'm struggling to recover from the exhaustion that defines traveling with children.

Until I'm able to articulate some degree of insightful thought, I'll ask you to indulge me and agree that I truly have one of the happiest (and cutest) four-month-olds on record.

That smile, it melts me.

My first born from baby to little boy . . .

I just finished creating Owen's second year montage (i.e. my excuse for a baby book).

I think if you click on this link, you should be able to preview it. You can also compare it to his first year to see just how much my first baby has changed: http://www.onetruemedia.com/my_shared?z=f25131b2b721c5ba9cb6e&utm_source=otm&utm_medium=text_url

While a part of my heart aches at the thought of how quickly the last two plus years with Owen have flown by, the boy he has become makes that same heart swell beyond measure. He can now express his love for me vocally, and through the most amazing hugs and kisses on earth. He is an incredibly affectionate and sensitive little boy, with one heck of a zest for life.

Kinda makes ya feel like maybe you are doing a little something right after all.

I'll post the start of Baby E's montage when it's complete.

Edited to add-at the same link you can find the start of Emmett's montage as well. Being that we're only at month 4 of his first year, there's still quite a bit of work to be done, but at least I'm not completely neglecting the poor second child.

New Day, New Do

We've had a busy weekend at Casa a la Sass. A trip to the Sweetcorn Festival, a trip to the Farmers Market to stock up on the waning summer produce, a return to Little Gym class, swimming, and dinner out with friends. We're trying to soak up the last of summer, while at the same time welcoming fall with open arms.

This morning the Hubs has taken Mr. O to a model airplane air show, Baby E is peacefully sleeping in his swing, and I am trying to remember what to do with moments of free time.

As promised, the above is a picture of the new do. I decided to hack my hair after concluding that I looked old. This decision was briefly reconsidered after a couple sitting next to us at Milo's told me I looked just like the U.S. Olympic gold-winning gymnast Nastia Leukin (ya know the tall willowy blond that is more than a decade younger than myself). I then glanced at their cocktails and decided not to flatter myself.

I completely love the cut--I can make it look messy, professional, or fun all in a few minutes time. I will ask you to show me some grace and ignore the bags under the eyes . . . still searching for the potential surgery-free answer to that problem.

I am in the midst of working on photo montages for the boys . . . it's my last-ditch effort to appear competent in recording at least snippits of their childhood, because Lord knows, they won't have baby books to look back on.