all is bright

We celebrated Christmas early with Joshua's parents this past weekend, a tradition we started when they moved back to the area and we were all balancing family commitments and work over the actual holiday (hint: I was the only one with a work conflict). There was a time when I thought maybe we wouldn't be able to spend the weekend anymore after having kids, but as Matilda gets older I couldn't be more thankful for the memories we are making here and for the way she adores this place. Joshua's parents house is comfortable to the point of mild sedation - a grownup's lazy wonderland of freshly ground coffee, thick napping blankets, homemade treats, and other people who are making sure Matilda doesn't slam her fingers in doors or gleefully lunge for the stairs. And Matilda is currently just smitten with her grandparents (she stopped saying Gamma and Boppa a few days ago in favor of the oh so logical "Boppa" and "Other Boppa").

This weekend, being away from home and celebrating Christmas with our family also felt like an incredible privilege in light of the tragedy of yet another gun massacre last Friday. I have not stopped thinking about the families of the children and teachers who are now gone. The despair that I feel just imagining Matilda's life ending in a senseless, horrific way is so deep that I cannot comprehend the grief these parents and families are experiencing. I am so thankful that she is far too young to understand what kind of violent world we live in. Her biggest problems are parental blockades to both snacks on demand and unlimited access to Sesame Street, and I will fight to keep her life that way as long as possible.

This gem is the closest thing we got to a family picture this weekend, at least on our camera. And it's a few days later and I feel both grateful and selfish over my relief that the three of us are still here and living and breathing. I'm thankful for this fleeting, precious time on earth in ways that I wish I felt everyday, and not just in light of horrific news. For the big things like our faith and this season of Advent and for the little things like after-bathtime toddler curls and gifts wrapped up in glittery teal paper. We are praying desperately for all of those whose families are no longer complete and who are suffering instead of celebrating this week. 

 Donations to support the Newtown community can be directed here, through the United Way of Western CT, or here, through a fund set up by the community itself. Lastly, a group of artists on Etsy are donating a portion of their proceeds to that United Way fund - you purchase from them here.

Oh Hello

Time for a quarterly update on all the Havi happenings? Sure. Matilda felt my old choking and dying netbook needed to face just one more challenge and ripped the spacebar off a few months ago, but now I have a shiny new Mac and no excuses about how typing is so hard (you rip off your spacebar and try it).

Fall was rather lovely here in Chicago. It was warm, the foliage was as good as this New Englander could ask for from the Midwest, we managed to apple pick and pumpkin carve and dress our daughter up as Elmo for the Lincoln Square Halloween festivities. She was a little thrown off by all the other kids screaming "ELMO!" in her face, and we were a little thrown off by the adults who shoved their kids in her face while avoiding eye contact with us and saying in an odd whisper/yell,"looook! ellllmmooo!" It was neat. 

My incredibly inspiring friend Amy ran the marathon in October, and we CTA-hopped all over the city to see her at mile 10ish, 20ish, and the finish line. Matilda was awesome and only once did she actually try to run away into the street and join the marathon (true story). She helped hold up signs for Auntie Amy, did not complain when her lunch consisted of an applesauce and crab rangoons on the street in Chinatown, and appropriately fell asleep right as we saw Amy turn the corner and head up to the finish line.  

Also, I don't know if you've you ever carried a stroller with a 29 pound toddler in it up and down dozens and dozens of stairs to and from the L tracks, but 1) it was sort of the crowning achievement of our almost two years of urban parenting, and 2) Joshua and I hobbled around for a day or two like we had run the marathon instead of leisurely puttering from spectator location to spectator location.

We hosted Thanksgiving for the first time and after much late night obsessive googling and seeking constant support from friends and Alton Brown, we brined and roasted our first turkey and oh, we owned it. My facebook profile picture is still Joshua and I standing over that turkey. We celebrated on Wednesday night with Joshua's family, his sister's boyfriend, and super marathoner Amy who is all the family I'm ever going to get here in the heartland (sob!) but if I had to pick someone to spend every holiday with, it would obviously be her anyways. It was really a wonderful night. Of course we barely picked up the big camera, but we did instagram that dinner to death.

Before everyone arrived, we managed to catch some shots of Matilda eating cranberry sauce for lunch. She looks like such a grown up girl in that picture on the right, but after searching through last years Thanksgiving pics I'm happy to say that, beneath those long curls and despite those pearly chompers, she still has the same rosy baby cheeks and sweet smile as last year. Keep changing slowly, firstborn child of mine.

Joshua's parents and sister left Thursday morning to visit his brother's family in Texas, and we lazed around watching the parade and football until I left to give thanks at work with the NICU babes. I have to say that waking up on the holiday with leftovers all ready to go is actually an amazing way to celebrate the holiday. Wednesday Thanksgivings forever!

My favorite part of the year is really the weekend after Thanksgiving when you are still full and making turkey sandwiches slathered in cranberry sauce for every meal and still feeling very blessed, but you also know that you can now celebrate Christmas without feeling like you are shortchanging Thanksgiving. We don't do Black Friday, so it's the weekend when Christmas still feels sort of far away and you think you have all the time you need for wrapping and baking and creating holiday cheer (you don't). In that spirit, we have all these magical plans to go tromping through snowy fields someday and cut down our own tree, but this year in the time we had allotted (Sunday evening after I had worked three overnights in a row) and the attention span of our child (short, prone to violence with containment), we were only able to pull off the magical run-into-home-depot-and-pick-which-tree-looks-like-it-would-be-most-beautiful-without-this-netting-on-it experience. 

This festive activity culminated in a certain child being carried out of Home Depot kicking and screaming, and required Joshua to saw off the lower branches because we did not have the time or apparently, the parenting skills, to hold our family together and wait in line for that at the store. But lo! our tree is actually beautiful sans net, and there are no huge holes or birds nests or anything else terrifying and nature-ish. A Christmas miracle! 

We are still enjoying the Christmas season and thank God for jeggings and scrubs because the delicious spoils from multiple cookie exchanges keep piling up on our counter. Luckily stress is counteracting the saturated fat because this week Matilda learned how to lock herself in her room (a day that shall live in infamy because 1) it was literally Pearl Harbor Day and 2) the comedy of errors that occurred was actually unbelievable) and she also learned how to throw herself out of her crib. This made for a rough parenting weekend. Then last night she insisted on extra hugs and kisses before bed and said "Nigh nigh, I slweepy, Mama" and pulled her blanket over herself to emphasize the point so my little heart grew three sizes that day.

Back

In honor of Emmy night, I'll just step forward and accept the award for Most Inconsistent Writer in the category of Mommy Bloggers. I can't promise that this isn't the only time I'll post here before Christmas. Yes, the double negative hurts my long-buried writer's brain but I'm out of practice.

Yesterday I updated my phone to iOS6 (new emojis! pretty maps! i can finally keep matilda in her extremely educational toddler apps using guided access! there i go, pushing my phone to the very limits of its capabilities...) and when my phone restarted all my photos were gone. I had not backed up my photos because my Apple expert in residence had already updated his phone without any photo issues. 

To say that I freaked out would be an understatement.

We don't use our big fancy camera that often and the vast majority of our pictures are on my phone, which hadn't been backed up since the beginning of the summer (i know...) so naturally I lost my mind thinking that I had failed the Number One Rule of Parenting Your First Child: Overdocumentation of Their Every Move.

But...it turns out that when you have two thousand, six hundred and forty something (2,64something) photos on your poor iPhone 4, it takes awhile to restore them. In the time that it took for the pictures to reload appropriately, Matilda watched me quietly and then started doing this thing where she covered her mouth with both her hands, and laughed maniacally until her entire upper body was shaking. Watching how quickly she launched into this dead-on impression of me (other than confusing my anguish for hilarity, which was in itself hilarious) shocked me into pulling myself together.

Besides resolving to maybe not cry like a hyena in front of my toddler again, I also decided I would (re)start writing. I take a lot of phone photos and I have an index card on our fridge where I write down Matilda's new words but I think I could stand to throw some stories on here once or twice a month. My emotions about the documentation of our family life apparently boil closer to the surface than I realized.

I would have been devastated to lose all the pictures that I clearly need to keep around for Matilda's preschool applications. All caught up on current events? Check. Back on our game.

Easter

I am such a great blogger, right? Apparently I just pop in to cover the major holidays (sorry, St. Valentine and St. Patrick...also, happy new(ish) year?). We had a very busy March packed with a beach vacation, an excessively long roadtrip home from the beach (Florida's not...close), basement renovations, and the typical working parent daily routine. I'm sure many of those things should have been better documented, especially our gorgeous week at the ocean, but when it comes to blogging I sort of feel like, I could be posting amusing life anecdotes on here or I could be pinning recipes that I have no intention of making. Mini butterfinger cheesecakes? Yes please, now here's one picture from Florida.

March actually dragged a bit. Maybe because it was 80 degrees in Florida in the beginning of the month, and 80 degrees in Chicago in the middle of the month. Maybe because spring arrived with so much force that it seemed like May and the calendar wasn't budging. Maybe it was because Matilda's new favorite way of expressing her displeasure is throwing herself on the ground and bashing her forehead to the earth? I don't know, that sure makes the days seem long.

So to find ourselves suddenly on the eve of Easter was a surprise. Easter was the first major holiday that we celebrated for the second time with Matilda (I've discovered in writing this post that I really have no love for St. Patrick and St. Valentine?) and the way that our sleepy almost-three month old has grown into  a chattering, independent fourteen month old is amazing.

I just love how the transformation in our wardrobe is almost as dramatic as the change in Matilda's appearance...obviously, having a child who sleeps 12 hours a night is how you get yourself to church early dressed like you are a walking Gap ad.

And here she is this year, spilling candy on the grass, infinitely more excited to snap the eggs open and closed than even look at what was inside them. She has absolutely no idea what candy is and her hierarchy of eggs was based entirely on what made the best noise when used as a maraca. (It's jelly beans!) 

It surprises me to see the changes in pictures and yet in someways I am grateful that this is how I thought it would be, that watching a child grow up entwines the most normal and the most miraculous moments I've ever experienced.

Matilda is still too young to understand the significance of Easter as a holy holiday but we are excited for her to discover more than just the plastic eggs full of candy and baskets full of silly, sweet gifts. We sang In Christ Alone during the twenty minutes of the service that we actually attended (the rest was spent chasing Matilda around the lobby with the rest of the restless children), and I'm so thankful we did because those lyrics are lovely and clear about the hope of Christ. It made my Easter complete, even without the sermon that I missed while passing out Cheerios and distracting Matilda from tripping on all the tulle I forced her into and falling down the stairs.

We are so thankful for wonderful family and friends who celebrated Easter with us, a great church community, and the Easter promise of new life.

...there in the ground, His body lay

light of the world by darkness slain.

then bursting forth in glorious day,

out of the grave he rose again...

Happy Birthday Sweet Tils

Our baby girl - our toddler girl - certainly has a thing for dramatic birthdays. One year ago today, at this exact time, I was on my third (endless) hour of pushing and my 24th hour of labor during the great Snowpocalypse of February 1, 2011. It has been oddly warm this year and our blizzard baby hasn't even played in the snow yet, but we woke up on her birthday morning to find that our washing machine had broken in the night and we were in the middle of the great Flood of February 1, 2012.

There are eight million reasons why this kind of home owner nightmare was particularly awful on this particular day. Matilda's first birthday was not so much a special day of going out for birthday lunch with mom and dad (the plan), it was more of a play in the living room while Servicemaster rips the damaged floor and drywall out of the brand new playroom mom and dad just finished for you! And it's one of the busiest weeks of your dad's entire work year! And your grandparents fly into town tonight! And your birthday party is in three days!

But the joy of little ones is that they don't know, or care, and Matilda was no less happy walking behind her new push toy, trying to open child-locked cabinets, and banging tupperware around than she is every other day. She is happy, and healthy, and we are abundantly, overwhelmingly blessed. In the end it's just stuff, and Matilda is a beaming reflection of God's grace to us. (Please don't think I waltzed upstairs from my sopping basement thrilled to have experienced such a neat object lesson. Because I am sort of reminding myself of these things as I write them).

Someone had chocolate for the first time tonight, thanks to Jessica who showed up with a tray of Frostys like a sweet fast food angel sent straight from crisis-aversion heaven.

It was, obviously, a hit. I mean, your first slurp of frozen chocolate deliciousness after a lifetime of organic peas is going to be pretty exciting. And I hope she enjoyed it, because the Chocolate Baby Crack isn't going to be back anytime soon and her menu reverts back to greek yogurt and blueberries in the morning.

She wasn't happy when it was over. I never am either.

Oh, my sweet, sweet girl. It's 10:53pm which means that last year I still had 47 minutes of pushing left and those jerks kept saying you were almost out. You've been independent and willful and delightful from the minute you born and I just couldn't love you any more.

But next year I'll pass on blizzards and floods, thank you very much sweet Tilda Boo!

Christmas Eve

This is the first time in four years that I'll be spending Christmas Eve with Joshua instead of at work with sick babies and their heartsick families. I've never been that upset about having to work on Christmas - I feel very selfish once I walk into the hospital missing my healthy happy family at home and am smacked in the face gently reminded that here are so many people living out their worst nightmares over the holiday season. But of course I'm thrilled to be able to go to Christmas Eve service at our own church and enjoy a Christmas morning that doesn't start with me in scrubs (it ends with me in scrubs, since I am working tomorrow night, but our sweet healthy girl will be already be off to bed with visions of sugarplums dancing in her head. What are sugarplums? I think we need some).

Joshua and I have talked so much about how we want to create the mystery and excitement of Christmas for Matilda in the upcoming years. This year, I think she is overwhelmed enough by ornaments that are just out of reach, her beautifully illustrated board book of the Christmas story, and the satisfying crunch of brown paper packages tied up with string.

We took that song (and our commitment to not wasting tons of paper) seriously, so here we have Trader Joes bags turned inside out to wrap up our gifts. I think this is exactly what Julie Andrews had in mind, right?

We always sleep in front of the tree on the first night that we put it up. We've been doing this since the first year we were married and it's my favorite silly holiday tradition that Joshua and I created ourselves. We grew up with different family ideas on Santa (him: in moderation, me: in absentia), and we aren't sure how we will present jolly old St Nick to Matilda. I don't know anyone who is particularly scarred in their adult life by either the inclusion or exclusion of Mr Claus in the Christmas magic that their parents weaved for them. But we are most concerned that Matilda realizes that waking up in front of glittery trees and unwrapping gifts are not the only way, and not at all the reason, that we celebrate this holiday. We want her to grow into a generous giver, thankful for her redemption, inspired by the Christ in Christmas.

We are wishing everyone a very very Merry Christmas.

O Holy Night! The stars are brightly shining. 
It is the night of our dear Saviour's birth. 
Long lay the world in sin and error pining
'Til He appear'd and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

Fall on your knees! O hear the angels' voices!
O night divine, O night when Christ was born;
O night divine, O night, O night Divine.

Remember when I used to blog? And we had that roly-poly baby with wispy hair who was just starting to eat solid food and a dog who was cancer free and a cat who mistook Matilda's flowery curtains for her own litterbox? That was fun, wasn't it?

I'm really not sure why I stopped writing here - it's partly that the perfectionist in me finds writing consistently and well a tricky matter, and partly that I like to use naptimes to either clean up my house or my DVR - but I'm back. Time doesn't stand still even for the laziest of bloggers so while I left you hanging right about here:

Both this stupidly hot September weekend in Minneapolis and all those sweet baby arm rolls have come and gone. We sat Matilda down to take her picture in the sculpture gardens and after a lifetime of near verbal silence, she suddenly burst out with her very first bababa and dadada. Six hours later she was burning up with her first fever and our drive home the next day was 7 hours of the saddest babbling I have ever heard from a child. Also, screaming. And crying (it was me!). Then suddenly it was fall, and then Thanksgiving and now it's the week before Christmas and we have a baby who looks more like this:

Oh HI! (Matilda would say if her verbal skills were anywhere near as advanced as her physical skills). Welcome to my room! Why yes, I do think I can stand and walk on my own and what? I just faceplanted? Not a problem, I'm extremely experienced in this area.

What else has happened besides the inevitable passing of time, the changing of the seasons, the rush of holidays, and the mind-numbing wind up to an election year? So much, and also not much. Here is the so much: Matilda slowly transitioned from her spastic forward wiggle to a decent army crawl and then suddenly perfected a wickedly quick momentum - no one was more frustrated by her plodding pace than Matilda herself and the second she pulled her coordination together she started darting out of sight in seconds. Within a few weeks there was excellent pulling up and standing, and inching along inanimate objects (and other unfortunate, animate objects - the animals hide now when she sets her sights on them). Now we have an almost-eleven month old who wants no help with anything, ever, still refuses to say mama but says "TA-dee-DA!" when she's proud of herself, and wolfs down things like fish and quinoa and pancakes. She loves other babies, waves at pictures of people, loves to belly laugh and play peekaboo, yet remains about as cuddly as a porcupine who is feeling threatened.

This is about as "snuggly" as our independent child ever gets. I am equally parts proud and terrified of her strong-willed self. It's all fun and games until there is talking and running and then I hear (from my mother), that it's just about keeping everyone alive until those higher cognizance areas of the brain kick in and elevate the child mind out of what is basically the animal realm. I googled it, and this happens in the late teens. So! Merry Christmas!

So much more to come now that I've revived the blog but I will leave you with this...

Just to keep things real.