BamamaPancakes

When we were kids spending many summer beach days on 83rd Street in Virginia Beach, we used to swim out to the dolphins. As soon as we saw they were close enough in, we’d grab our boogie boards and start swimming. We’d put our faces in the water to talk to them, and watch as they glided by, sometimes as close as 5 feet away. It was quiet except their blow holes bursting up from the water, and their chatter if we put our ears in to listen. Sometimes they’d  go under us, just the tops of their heads and always-unique dorsal fin showing, and sometimes they’d be playing, their tails splashing or even fully leaping into the air, giving us a show. Sometimes they’d swim in circles around my mom, rolling over so we could see their pink bellies. When I went to Haiti years later, our translator told us that in some cultures, they believe dolphins are the guardians of the earth, because of their intelligent, playful and protective spirits. I’ve collected them forever, and dream of dolphin...

Dear Friends, They say life gets busier with three kids. Whoever ‘they’ are appears to be correct, as the verdict is still out whether this letter will actually be finished or even go in the mail before Bryce gets to kindergarten.   I tried delegating this to the kids to see if they would write it for me. When I asked them what they’d say about the year, Bria’s input was “I love purple!,” Bryce brought me Wallie’s leash, and Addie said “This is boring; let’s play SCHOOL!”   Honestly, it’s not the worst summary of 2019. You may notice that our address has changed. Earlier this year, we discovered the joy of moving with three kids (and what fun that process is), but are now happily settled in, a whole 8 minutes from our old house, which I still drive by and thank for its many wonderful memories.   We thought our new one wouldn’t be a fixer-upper, so naturally, there’s been about 5892 projects that needed some Chip-and-Joanna-style love, and 3021 mo...

Nov 27, 2019 Dear Abram, Usually I write in front of a Christmas tree, its soft colorful lights warmly surrounding your tiny footprints, remembering all that is you.   This year, Thanksgiving falls late, on Nov 28 th , the day you were born.   The last two years, I desperately wanted a tree before then, so that evergreen smell and magic of the season would be in our home, holding your memory with it. One of the last memories I have of you kicking was when we were gathered in the cold after Thanksgiving weekend, picking out the biggest tree we could find for your Christmas. For some reason, the following two years, I needed that clear ritual to remember you, purposeful and planned. Perhaps this year, sweet boy, Thanksgiving coming late is a lovely reminder, both of the thanks we give every day for you, and because I’ve learned more about remembering and grieving, and how it’s not always perfectly planned or predicted. No matter what time of year or date...

  Nursing is a funny thing. It doesn’t work out/isn’t best for some people for many reasons, all of which are *okay* and should not be judged (this thought needs a separate post/rant). I wanted to nurse, and I feel like I got lucky and was able to. Aside from a few “preemie”-ish issues at first with Bria, I was able to feed my babies fairly easily the first year of their life and donate what seemed like a gazillion bags of milk to 2 other bab ies when their mamas didn’t have breastfeeding as an option. It’s a little bittersweet, this journey ending. I’ve pretty much either been pregnant or nursing for the last 8 years, and now we’re shifting to the next chapter. My body is just going to be my own again. It feels different and looks different and is different, but I’m thankful for what it could give. Some days were hard when I was on the every-2-hours clock. Sometimes it was nice escaping a chaotic place to a quiet room or corner to feed the baby. Sometimes a baby would cry in ...

Oct 8, 2019 Dear Addie, Seven. You now know the line from Sound of Music when she says Yes, but seven??? Granted, she’s talking about number of children and we’re talking about how many trips you’ve had around the sun. But still, seven?? You went from sparkles and dresses to shorts and tshirts this year, mostly in sneakers that can get dirty and your hair out of your face so you can run. You’ve gone from snuggling beside us as we read books to reading us every Pig and Gerald there is (Happy Pig Day, by the way). You’ve gone from toys to wanting to write, draw, or craft or play school for hours. You went from starting kindergarten at 6 to rolling into first grade, ready to rock some math and your musical and roll down some hills at recess. When you ask me what seven looked like one day years from now, I’ll tell you. You learned to read. You lost a tooth, and the next one a few days before your birthday. You make pizza bagels for lunch, just so. You yell wh...