Ellie turns 3

Oh my sweet girl - you are three years old now! It hasn't come as much of a surprise, you've seemed closer to three than two for most of the year. Older, more verbal, more mature than many people would expect a two year old to be. Three definitely fits you. But it's difficult for me to reconcile the girl you are today with the tiny baby who turned me into a mother just three short years ago.

Time is a tricky thing. Perhaps it's not as linear as we think. In some ways it feels I have been your mother forever. And yet the years move by quickly and you grow and change at an astounding rate. You are precocious - intelligent and witty and definitely headstrong. You have a caring heart and are quick to notice when someone's feelings are hurt. I often find myself lost in your deep brown eyes, so full of wonder and curiosity. Your eyes go on forever and I don't know if you realize the power of your stare. There are times I can see into your heart and sense that you are searching mine with your pure, unfaltering gaze.

We have our power struggles to be sure. You love to make messes and find yourself conveniently tired when it's time to clean up. You have a bit of a television addiction. I'll take the blame for this one, but not too much blame. I doubt it will hurt your long term development. In fact, I don't know that you'd be using the word "hypothesis" had you not spent so much time with your best friend, PBS. You sneak out of bed constantly to ask for a better hug and kiss, to insist that you must go to the bathroom - we know you are playing tricks on us. And you know that we are desperate to get you to lay there quietly without waking your sister.

Ellie, you are simply all of the best things in the world walking around in one tiny body. You are happiness and enthusiasm and unadulterated joy. I marvel at you, shake my head at you, try my best to love you and teach you. I hope you will read this one day and know how very much I loved your two year old self and how my love for you continues to grow just as quickly as you do.

P.S. I'm not the only one who loves you, by the way. Today I spied your dad coming home with you from the Science Center. He was wearing your tiara and carried you on his shoulders all the way up the stairs. That man will do anything to see you smile.

And for history's sake, here are some photos of the birthday celebration:

We brought cupcakes to Ellie's preschool.

Talk about a proud parent moment.

Is there anything cuter than preschoolers covered in icing?

Joe and Wren snuggling just might compare.

This year Ellie's birthday theme was PINK. She wanted a pink cake with pink candles so we just went for it. She helped me make the pale pink frosting, then she wore her outrageously pink sequined pants and Joe and I hung pink streamers in the dining room the night before. It was a lot of pink for my taste, but I think she really liked it.

We even had a virtual birthday party with Ellie's BFF June-bug and Bea and Olive.

That's why she's sitting on the dining room table in the middle of the living room.

Happily our first ever cyber party was a smashing success!

Reading a card from Great-Grandma.

Ellie treasures the cards people send her and has been known to take them to preschool.

She usually shows the card to her teacher and then stows it safely in her cubby during class.

Also, Grandma Hardie, I hope you notice the socks you sent.

She insisted on wearing them right way and changed into all three pairs throughout the day!

She is stunned into silence as she realizes she is the owner of her very own train set!

Happy Birthday to my darling three year old girl.

Just for fun, take a look at how much she has grown.

A little reaction...

Looks like someone is allergic to amoxicillin.

That would have been good to know before we used it to treat her ear infection.

And yes, it is head to toe. Poor baby.

Ellie is really curious as to how her sister became "polka dotted."

Even the spots won't keep her down, though. Wren is a girl on the move.

Six independent steps and counting...

I think we've got ourselves a walker!

For my next post - another bit on medication, but no hives in that story.

Hope for my Daughters

She dressed in red, white and blue, brought appropriate reading materials, and charmed the woman at the front of the line with her rendition of the word indivisible.  We felt like civic-minded parents - taking our daughters along to vote.  We marveled at the thought that last time we voted for president we had no children at all!

And all day I've been thinking of things I want to teach them - hopes I have for them, specifically when it comes to this whole election process.  I'm writing it here, in part so that I can work on practicing now what I plan to preach to them in coming years.

Advice for my (hopefully) civic-minded daughters:

- Realize that you will learn much more by listening to someone who thinks differently than you will by hearing your own opinions endlessly re-iterated.
- Seek to understand more than you seek to be right.
- In fact, leave being right out of the equation completely, my dears.  It's a tempting, but damaging approach to life.
- Have the confidence to express your own ideas, the humility to say "I don't know" and the courage to change your mind.
- Make the world a better place.  Applaud and appreciate the efforts of all those who seek to do the same - even if their approach is vastly different from what you would choose.
- Respect all of the various viewpoints out there.  They may not be important to you, but they are important to someone.  (This goes for your politically apathetic friends as well.  Believe me, you will at times need respite from the deluge of opinions)
- Don't you ever demean or belittle anyone!  Public figure or personal acquaintance, it makes no difference.  People are people and Mom won't stand for bullying in any form.  Be kind my sweet girls; always be kind.
- Be aware of the limitations of each option.  There is no magic bullet, no perfect person, no secret recipe. 
- Foster a belief in the innate goodness of your fellow man.  Feed your optimism for the future - it's the only way we can continue on.
- I would prefer if you didn't automatically vote straight party line every time, but if that's your choice I will take my own advice and respect your decision.
- Listen, listen, listen.  More than you talk.  (It's hard and I'm terrible at it, but I think it makes for quality minds)
- Give people the benefit of the doubt and return love for hurt and criticism.  This may be the only way you have friends left at the end of a campaign.
- When you find something you believe in, tuck it close within your heart and live as true to it as you possibly can.  Just don't let it get in the way of practicing the principles listed above.
- Don't spit into the wind or eat yellow snow.  Do wear your seat belt.  Everything else will work itself out.

I am grateful to my friends who have shown an ability to express their own views articulately and sincerely.  I am grateful for people who are fair-minded and understanding and able to consider a different approach.  I appreciate the quiet voters and the people who love family and friends more than political affiliation.  I am grateful for my own liberties.  And I am grateful for the bright future I hope to help build for my children.

P.S. I'd like to take this opportunity to announce my candidacy for President in 2016.  I'll be heading up the party of Hearts, Unicorns and Warm Fluffy Feelings.

All We Need is Love - a gushing note that makes little sense

I drive away from my counseling appointment one morning, feeling so refreshed and excited about new discoveries I've been making.  Michael Jackson sings "Pretty Young Thing" on the radio and I crank it up, dancing as I head out of town.

I pass a pierced young woman with pink hair embracing her tattooed love on the sidewalk.

A few blocks later a lone elderly man in glasses quietly holds a sign. "Pray for the end of abortion" His eyes steadfast and full of loving concern.  In a community where his prayer is none too popular.

I think of the people who work in the clinic across the street from where he is standing - imagining the love and compassion with which they greet those who pass through the door.

Light streams down from the clouds, yellow leaves roll off the windshield and I think to myself:

There are so many ways to love in the world

These days I see love in those around me.  And it feels right to search for this.  The actions of others might look very different from the way I show my love - but I do not feel threatened by that.  In fact, I raise my face to the sky and say, "Thank you God.  Thank you for showing me love in a way that is different from my own"

I went on a little love-trip in my mind (in the absence of any recreational drugs, this was surprising for me, too) as I marveled at the different ways of being and how there is love in all of them.  I am grateful for diversity and curiosity and questions and the wonder these things bring to my life.

Speaking of leaves and love and life experience,

I forced my girls into a pile of leaves because I deemed it a necessary photo op of a happy childhood.

I don't recall loving piles of leaves as a kid and apparently Wren doesn't either.

Wren tried to enjoy the leaves,

but that effort was short lived.

A whole bunch of love from us to you.

Happy Halloween

Joe and I have a bit of a tradition when it comes to Halloween - one year on and one year off.  Last year we were definitely on.  This year is much more low key, but we still like to keep it festive.  Here we are as bank robbers, a sack of money, and a handsome teller who didn't stand a chance.

Let me point out a couple things:

1. I am fully aware that Ellie will look back on family photos and wonder why the h*#@

we made her wear a paper bag.  Never a princess or a fairy - every year she is but a cog in the machine that is the Hardie Family Costume.

2. Two kids later and I'm still rocking the leggings for Halloween - I think we can all agree this is a big win.

3. Is there anything cuter than a baby in a mask?

How about a baby in a mask who can....stand up by herself!

Thank you, Ellie for being such a good sport.  You worked that bag!

And thanks for sticking your finger in your nose at just the right moment.

This is family photo album gold.

Happy Halloween everyone!  Let us not forget that last year Halloween marked the beginning of a series of events that caused a major decline in the quality of life at the Hardie household.  Here's hoping that the curse on our house is broken after one year's time.  Muuuahh-haaa-haa-haa

Pulse Check

Ellie contemplates her morning smoothie.

Boy, does she look wrecked.

Remember how my last post was all about finding meaning in the loss, and it wrapped up with a nice sweet statement about a butterfly?  Well, a lot of life has happened since then.  And life can be awfully hard to boil down into a few words for a blog post.  So I'll just go a little stream of consciousness for a while:

The day after the big 6 month milestone, I was an absolute disaster.  Could not stop crying to save my life.  Finally had to break down and ask for help from the sweet women around me.  Women I didn't yet know well enough to let them see all the cracks, to feel comfortable with them seeing me so broken.  But like it or not - I couldn't hold it together anymore.

So they came, they took my children for the day while I slept and cried on the couch with an intensity that rivaled that very first night when my world came tumbling down.  Such a release was just what I needed for so many feelings and anxieties that had built up since moving here.   And then I took a deep breath and thought, "OK - moving on.  Time to get back to normal life."

Had a trip to the city recently.  It was great to see friends - so very wonderful.  And exciting to have so many photo shoots.  But taking a work trip with kids and without a husband is a recipe for disaster.  (as is sleep deprivation, the ill-timed menstrual experience, 7 friends in a 1 bedroom apartment for 9 days, and the observation of what would have been Mom's 43rd birthday)

Well.  When I write it out like that - it's no wonder I was a mess.  I wanted so badly for this trip to fix all of my woes.  Wanted the familiarity of friends and neighborhoods to cure my pain.  Instead I cried on the phone to Joe - like a kid at summer camp.  "I want to come home."  

That need to come home - it's such a recurring theme in my heart.

Wanting to be taken care of.

Wanting to feel safe.

It wasn't until midway through my NYC trip that I realized - Oh, I'm still depressed.  I prefer to talk about my depression in the past tense.  Something I experienced and left behind.  But it's not so.

In the time since my last post I've had multiple trips in and out of this gloom.  I haven't written because I keep waiting for it to be over.  I like to tell a story with a moral.  I like to know the end.  It's difficult to chronicle my life on the blog because it doesn't translate so well into these black and white words.  It's gray right now. Constantly shifting.  I feel as though I don't move along the same linear track as the people around me.  It's a little disconcerting, but I'm learning to accept it.

I'm trying to just be.

Still, my mind is never quiet.  I'm constantly composing in my head.  Searching for the meaning in this experience.  Sometimes words too raw to share here spill onto the pages of my journal.  Sometimes laughter wells up at the sight of my girls.  Sometimes tears follow my happiest thoughts. Everything is poignant these days.

I still have a sense of humor, too - it's just not as funny to other people these days.  Even in my deepest despair however, I think I am hilarious.

There are lots of things I want to write about:
 - the way that this grief has changed me - in ways I don't want to forget or forsake when the fog of sadness is lifted
- that you should never send a depressed girl to Target because all she can commit to is brownie mix and candles
- the flexible and unsteady nature of my faith.  The feeling that this experience completely hollowed out all of the things I had built up to be my belief system.  The way that this stripping process felt so meaningful at first, so full of promise that God would fill me with something better - but now it just feels empty.
- how hard it can be to wait on God
- how freeing it is to love without judgement
- how good it feels to talk kindly to myself (I hope everyone reading this practices a gentle inner dialogue)
- how kind and long-suffering my dear Joe continues to be
- all the books I've started and stopped.  (as much as I believe in the cause, I just can't read about the impending doom of climate change - not right now)
- when am I going to write that post about how to help a grieving friend?  I guess when I figure out how to define that exactly.
- that giving up cooking was the best choice I made for my mental health.  Who knew baked chicken nuggets and green beans from a microwave bag could be so good for you?
- the way it feels so good to give up all those unimportant things.  My list of important things (though it changes daily) is so much shorter than it once was.

Well, I guess I've written it all down now.  Sorry that it's not pretty or coherent or rife with meaning.  But it means something to me.  I think one of the reasons we suffer is so that one day we can occupy a comfortable place for someone else who is suffering.  I'm leaving these words here tonight (against my better judgement to hold the delete key), as a testament to the process I am going through to become that kind of person.  The path is murky and confusing as hell to navigate.  But I think that's where I am - and I haven't given up on the person I could become on the other side of this grief.

Also, please don't send the rescue teams after me.  The house is clean, the kids are clean and fed and snuggled and read to.  I am functioning - just differently than I used to.  Definitely more honestly than I ever have.  It might look like a cry for help, but it's not.  Just a desire to let you see me as I am.

(photographic proof of the well being of my lovies)

I took this photograph on the way home from blueberry picking this summer.  As we drove by these fields of sunflowers, I actually lost my breath.  It was like a dream.  A miracle.  A bit of magic.  How blessed I am to live in this world - to experience such beauty.

Today marks 6 months since Mom's passing.

Yesterday I got weepy in Wal-Mart (why does that place feel so much like home?) It was the laundry aisle that did me in. 

In the evening I gave myself a short cry in bed, followed by a nap while Joe played with the girls.

Today I saw a beautiful butterfly that struggled fiercely in the wind to fly above me for a long moment.  The way it beat its wings, was swept up by the wind, and fluttered back, determined to stay within my gaze - I could have sworn it was her.

When I see something truly beautiful, I sigh with sadness.  It's a shame she can't be here to see this.

Then I wonder vaguely if she can see all this.  If somehow she sees more than I can know.

That thought passes without an answer - just the sense that wondering is enough.

My heart holds so many things.  Sadness and hope and relief and regret and acceptance.  Today, though.  Today I feel wonder and gratitude for my butterfly.

Wren at 9 months

I blinked and it happened.  My sweet little bird is 9 months old!  She does a lot of growing on the sly, you see - not much fanfare for her milestones as they happen.  One day she was a sweet snuggly infant, and suddenly she's a ton of personality shoved into a tiny body, keeping up with all of us like it's no big deal.

It's hard to explain.  She just carves out a place for herself - doesn't need us to do it for her.  These photos say so much about the fireball she is becoming.

The sweet, traditional photo.  Thanks, Wren - this one is frame-worthy.

The worried look.  I'm telling you, she was born with it.

She loves to play peek-a-boo!

And she loves any attention from her sister.

Even if it's harsh fashion advice.

That bow's not really working on your head.

Even if it's just to serve as her pillow.

Especially if she actually let's her play along.

At 9 months old Wren:

- claps and babbles all the time (mama, baba, dada, a wide variety of hissing noises)

- crawls, climbs, and generally tumbles about

- has 8 teeth (holy cow, that's a lot)

- is a bit of a bruiser.  Seriously, the girl can takes serious hits without so much as a whimper

- hates baby food but enjoys the finer delicacies of canned vegetables, beans and cheerios

- chugs formula like a boss

- hulks out every time I put her in the car seat (contortions, hissing, spitting - the works)

- laughs more for Ellie than anyone else

- actually eats books.  Gnaws the spines, shreds the pages - it's barbaric

- is flirting with stranger anxiety (dear Lord, don't let it last)

- crawls up to me for the express purpose of biting

- smiles very easily 

- starts every morning with a sweet hug around the neck (and a good 5 min chew on the crib)

Did you catch the recurring theme here?

 I really think she's part piranha.

Are you sure these blocks are solid wood?

P.S. She has a fabulous physique.

And she loves to bury her face in that pillow.

P.P.S.  5 minutes after our photo shoot she got her hands on one of Ellie's markers.

You got a problem with that?