The sister who brings the jokes

And everything all at once

For a brief moment in time, my house sleeps. In the middle of the day (or anytime), this is a great win.

Moose sleeps on clothes that came in the mail today for Sammy’s birthday from a dear aunt and uncle. Apparently, Moose has to break them in.

Sweet Sammy, who was being held by me, gives my hands a second to type as he continues to sleep in his crib.

Lucy is laying down next to me, in her beautiful butterfly dress, a gift from another dear aunt and uncle. She has basically worn and slept in it for three straight days.

She wiggles a little and moves her body ever so slightly and now she is laying across the entire bed, feet in my face.

These are tomorrow’s good old days!

Oh, the works that will be created with the time I have!

Update, two minutes later:

Moose gets up to eat some rice.

Lucy stretches her legs and kicks me.

Sammy, oh Sammy, still sleeps quietly.

I would love to hear of a snapshot of your life. Who is kicking you right now? Hopefully, no one.

Still, her kicks in my face are an act of love.

Ask my husband how loving our daughter must be to kick him at least once a night.

In case you’re wondering, yes, it does sometimes feel like my life is broken up into small skits from a comedy show divided between some scenes of crisis and tragedy and then back to the comedic relief.

I am wondering though, if the act of creating makes it all manageable, makes the tragedy less tragic and the crisis somehow not as powerful.

As we come to one year with our miracle baby, Sammy, and a little over two years with our wise and fiesty Lu, it has become more apparent that I must face life head on, and with sunglasses.

This was the perfect year to budget for prescription sunglasses instead of a $5 pair, thank you for asking.

My daughter is the best example for creating as you go, not letting interruptions kill your flow or your joy, and remembering that (almost) everything is good material.

Life is a series of decisions, big and small.

Earlier, I asked Lulu if she wanted to get her fox stool or continue to torment Moose, two of her favorite pastimes. She stood, almost frozen, not in a scared sense, but something to the rhythm of, “it could all be great!”

At this point, I am over one year into the journey of Substack, but Sammy’s first birthday feels like the most profound milestone. Where do I go from here?

My Lu inspires me.

“It could all be great!”

Thank you for journeying with me for the past year and a half. Thanks for remembering with me how the process of grief and joy are a mixed bag, how sometimes you have to cry but also delight in the bubbles all around you (once again, courtesy of my daughter). Life and death, mystery and miracles, sadness and beauty, everything all at once.

I hope your week is filled with all of it, but I do hope for some comedic relief for you. Our house is always open, if you need it.

Finally, what everyone has been waiting for: pictures of Sammy’s birthday, and the party that was huge and completely deserved.

Soon I will do another post on Moose, who tolerates us all. Aren’t you glad Lucy chose the fox stool?

BIRTHDAY MADNESS: