July 31, 2014

The one with all of the words.

Over the course of the past few days, I've gone through every past post I've written here. I became completely enthralled with the days past, and though I know you can be a perfectly fine and capable human without doing any blogging whatsoever, it got me thinking of how beautiful the whole experience is, and missing it. Hard. I wrote down every absurd and wonderful thing. I made sure not to leave out the bits I knew I'd need to read in the years ahead. There were so many good days, and I celebrated them with words of love and gratitude. I wrote letters to Charlie, and though I still do in a journal, the words here are still so special. The days are so special. Seeing trips and moments all clumped together has me so determined to start writing here all over again, though the life we live now is so different. But here I am, pretty darn set on Her Sea of Love.

So hey, guys! I'm not sure if anyone is still listening. The entire blogging atmosphere changed so quickly, but I feel pretty darn lucky to have gained so many friends through this space. I ended up privatizing all of the 52 Project we did last year. Partly because those images felt so special, and partly because I only got to week 47. So really, it's been a good two years since I filled this space with words, as opposed to images of a pretty cute tot. The latter is still pretty wonderful though, yes?

We're halfway through 2014, and somehow the years keep going by faster and faster. The first year of C's life passed almost as though it was in slow-motion, and I felt like I soaked up all the newborn goodness and developed such a strong bond. I felt like I grew so much, and knew so much; but then, year two and three quickly passed, and suddenly it's hard to remember much of it at all. I quickly realized I knew next to nothing those first years, and am baffled at how we made it through them so well. I am proud, I am thankful. But there is so much I wish I'd shared. Like the fact that marriage can be so hard, and on some days, heartbreaking. And the fact that you should be able to talk with other women about your struggles without feeling judged, or as though you're suddenly a comparison. It's so important. I wish I'd shared about my breast reduction, which I had last January, that changed motherhood and my confidence as a woman so much for me. I wish I'd shared that though you may be a mother, you are still a person, and you deserve to have your own time. How can you possibly care for another human without caring for yourself? In love, and in parenthood, and friendships. I wish I'd shared about that one morning, when I had the realization that Charlie doesn't care one single bit- or even a percentage of a bit- if I buy her name-brand clothes, or buy her the less obnoxious toys. She'll just remember how much she was loved. I wish I'd talked more about religion and about losing and gaining faith. About science and nature and just how incredible it is to look at the moon, not as though it's simple pasted in the sky, but instead at the wonder it truly is, out of our atmosphere entirely. A simple fact, I know. But do you ever really think about that? It is so beautiful, and we are so small, yet our stories still hold so much meaning.

So here, I type away bits and pieces all over again. In hope that two years from now, and two years from then, I look back again, thankful I jotted it all down. And maybe slightly irritated at the run-on sentences, but thankful, nonetheless.


June 21, 2014


Phew. From 10/52 to 25/52. Fifteen weeks between my last post and this one, and what an insanely wild and beautiful fifteen they've been. And while fifteen photos was a tad excessive, these ten sum of the past three months pretty perfectly.

These weeks were for turning three-years old with all the excitement, ever. They were for celebrating with a space-themed party with the people who love you almost as much as we do, and for celebrating again at The Happiest Place on Earth. May it be known that Disneyland doesn't hold 100% true to that title when there is a toddler in tow. But still, it was a magical time to be Charlie Thornhill. They were weeks full of Wall-E and Hook and all of the dinosaur and space documentaries Netflix provides. They were for learning how to ride your bike and for suddenly wanting to eat as much as an adult.They were for learning math for the first time (may you love it more than every single one of your family members) and for spending day after day in the pool. We're all convinced you're part mermaid now. They were for stacks of books and making all of the bead necklaces your tiny hands could handle. They were for living room campouts and s'mores on the back deck. They were for hiking miles on your own, and for braving the ice-y waters of Lake Tahoe. What would have been torture for most people was absolute magic for you. They were weeks for making an insane amount of pineapple popsicles, and for daytrips and beach trips and redwood trips. You fell in love with "ROCK AND ROLLLL" (any song with drums) and begged for a puppy (and begged some more). You've grown so much in a matter of weeks. You're passionate and strong-willed. You have been since day one, but it's still part of what makes you so simply incredible. You're so very loved, no matter how terribly my blogging schedule says it.

C: "Are you mad?"
Me: "Not at all. Why?"
C: "Your eyes look like you're mad. I mean your eyebrows. They're really mad."

C: "What time is it?"
Me: "Past your bedtime."
C: "Nine o'clock?"
Me: "Past nine o'clock"
C: " BUT MOM. What about nine o'clock?! We NEED nine o'clock!"

I turn on oldies in the car, to which Charlie yells from the backseat,

While walking through the clothing aisle at Target:
C: "Ooooh. Fashionistas."
I must have given her an absolutely bewildered slash slightly upset look because she quickly said,
"Don't worry. I won't say that ever again."

March 7, 2014

7/52, 8/52, 9/52

"A portrait of my daughter once a week, every week, in 2014."

Pretending it's summer out, backyard hangs, the best pout, & heart-cookie making. The best things, really.

These weeks were for moving out of the home you grew the most in. For picnics in the dining room before the table was set up (which you're still asking for even now that it's up). They were for falling in love with your "huuuuuuuuuuge" room and having the same hiding spot for hide-and-go-seek every game. Weeks for celebrating love with tiny canvases and for picking every camellia you could get away with, which was most of them. They were for singing this song at the top of your lungs every. single. night. And we absolutely had to refer to you as Elsa many times this week. They were for exploring ruins in San Francisco and for mastering your hiking skills. They were for your first "rollercoaster" ride and for telling everyone, every day, that it's almost your birthday (it's over a month away, but still- we're getting there). It's your last full month as a two-year old and we're soaking that in. Two has been the absolute wildest and the absolute best. All the emotions in the world, wrapped in a three-foot tall person. 

Me: You are so stinking adorable.
Charlie: MOMMMM. No, I'm not. I'm terrific.

"I love it so much when the moon's awake."

"Going to take a shower, daddy! And I'm definitely not washing my hair!"