lailah rose | 19 months

Often, I wonder what its like to have all those emotions, impulses coursing through your tiny body. No guidebook, no how-to’s, just a fresh burst of energy each morning, catapulting you into your day, filled with wonder and delight, frustration and sadness. Each new feeling floods your entire person. You are curiosity. You are frustration. You are pure joy. No façade, no deception, just unfiltered feelings.

You, my girl, experience things so honestly. You are the embodiment of raw, real emotion.

So here we are, my love, embroiled in toddlerhood, where it’s possible to feel as though my heart might burst with pride, love, joy, laughter one moment and an all consuming anger and frustration that leaves me feebly trembling in a corner the next. There are days I’m fully convinced that the men in white coats will find me here, huddled up in that corner, wearing my snack-stained armor, sporadically tossing pancakes in your general direction, because, at least pancakes keep you happy, one moment at a time.

Other days, I whole-heartedly believe that you and I could take on the world. Because why not? We are capable.

You’re not a baby anymore. You have opinions (on everything), ideas, thoughts, urges, needs, and more words than either you or I know what to do with.

Everyone told me that parenting was hard. They told me that it would be the biggest challenge, the greatest adventure of my adult life. It’ll take all you have. It’ll change you, shape you.

I don’t think we’re made to listen to such things. We’re not meant to quantify what it takes to raise a human in this world. It’s all too much. It can’t be put into words. Not properly, at least. I think we’re made to ignore everyone and do it anyway.

No one or one hundred people's words would have been adequate enough to prepare me for the gut-wrenching, world-flipping, heart-bursting journey that is… you.

So bring it on, toddlerhood. If we’ve accomplished this much in 19 months, think of how much more we could do, you could do in the next 19, 20, 90 years?

in limbo | pacific northwest photographers

This blog post is very late in coming, but, well, toddlerhood.

Due to some unexpected (or partially expected) delays in our move to Portland, we spent some time living with my parents in Poulsbo back in September.

Oh, didn't you know? We're in Portland now! More on that later.

Anyway, we spent almost a month living at my parents' house, and while the thought of being back at your childhood home may make some of you cringe, I found so much to treasure during our stay. First off, my parents are cool. Second, having four extra hands to help care for Lailah was a godsend. They're not joking when they say it takes a village to raise a child. We spent the month cooking, baking, working, and playing, and I will always look back fondly on that time.

Being rootless for a moment was an oddly freeing experience. The three of us were reduced to one suitcase and a couple duffle bags. We ate, drank and wore what was available to us at the time. We didn't fuss about furniture, lamps, or whether this throw or that would look so good with our sofa color. Don't get me wrong, I love creating and decorating whatever space we live in, but the simplicity of that month was incredibly satisfying. So, when we finally made it down to Portland and began unpacking all of our boxes, I did some soul searching. As each box revealed its contents, I asked myself-- do we really need this? In the month+ that we have gone without this, have I thought about it once? Is this essential to our happiness? Our wellbeing? Our journey through life? Most of the time, the answer was no. So, we found a new home for a decent portion of our belongings. Now, our 800sqf home feels like a palace, and we are happy.

Let's face it, you guys, life isn't about possessions. Totally novel concept, I know.
It's about moments. 
And bubbles.

Coming soon, more on the Portland move, and some photos of rad people getting married.

sixteen months | life

Somewhere in the course of her language acquisition, the word "please" landed in place of the word "yes". When she's not saying "no" (which seems constant some days), it's "please", which is a guaranteed heart melter.

My days of late are filled with dancing to caspar babypants, changing diapers, taming tantrums, and reading the same book over and over (and over) again.

It's funny, this is the point where so many parents mourn their "baby", that sweet, rolly polly innocence that comes with the younger months. Me? I'm thrilled. Don't get me wrong. This parenting thing kicks my ass on a daily, okay, hourly basis. But every morning brings something new, and every day brings a little more strength, a little more understanding, and a little more thrill at the thought of what this incredible girl will be in our world.

My child, may you always be fascinated by bubbles, and drawn in by light. May you always have an open heart, a ready smile and a ridiculous sense of humor. May you observe wisely, speak kindly, and act with grace and understanding.