BamamaPancakes

One of the many roles Pauline Eccles served, and the way I am lucky enough to know her, was that of Grandma. And she did it right.   After she died, all of us grandkids thought about what Grandma means to us; some of these are singular to one; others we all share. But this is who Grandma is to us….. Grandma is roadtrips for all occasions in a little Honda. Grandma is mints in the dining room. Grandma is the bay, boogie boards and alligator float, and faithful straw hat and chair. She is meaningful gifts, her familiar scrawl explaining the stories. She is croquet. Grandma is sitting on the patio. She is cable tv, Nick at Nite, and Jordan commandeering the remote for the History Channel. Grandma is the smell of magnolias. She is the color blue. She is scrabble, Yahtzee, and Chutes and Ladders. Grandma is the Kentucky Derby. Grandma is classical music and musicals. Grandma is damint, “Open the door damnit!” She is ice cream cones for any occasion, or for...

Bria Elizabeth-Rose, named for.... Jane Elizabeth, Sheaff’s mom, who has a wonderful mix of strength, generosity, and fierce love of family Jean Elizabeth, a woman with incredible spunk and love, who gave us the bay and Christmas morning magic, whose name and lively yellow spirit and sandy saltwater stories are also a part of my own Rose, for Grandad and Grandma…. Bria was actually born on May 9 th , the day that Grandad passed away 28 years ago. The Rose in her name is for Grandad’s rose garden, the patio and croquet games at Grandma's, the Eccles family, and the magical way roses have a way of blooming for us when most needed, reminding us of grace, perspective, and those who will always walk beside us in our journey. 

Springtime is, [literally] by nature, an optimistic time. Open windows, the light green of brand new leaves, the smell of the grill, no mittens or heavy coats to cart around, and small bare feet exploring the backyard.   Sitting in the sun while The Crazy One naps, feeling the energetic jabs of her little sister with the sappy sentimentalism only third trimester hormones bring, knowing this Spring in particular is a time for gratitude and optimism. However, feeling the Seriously Energetic jabs of her little sister, with the growing awareness that only third trimester realities bring, I’ve found that this Spring is also a time for intermittent waves of panic. It’s like the Braxton Hicks of parenthood; you know your body is “preparing” for what’s to come, but you also know it ain’t a fraction of The Real Deal.   These moments of realization have taken me off guard a bit.   I mean, Honey was no surprise, not by any means. Quite the contrary.   So the fact that she ...

February. The month of lurv. People celebrate this in many ways. Flowers. Chocolate.   Fancy dinners. Candelight…talks. Sweet poems and well-phrased Hallmark cards. We all know the gig.   Our Valentine’s Day has shifted a little bit since our early days.    When Sheaff and I first started dating (on Valentine’s Day), there were flowers, chocolates, and adorably PG butterflies. I was a month into my first job out of college, was giddily decorating a little townhouse I’d just rented, couldn’t drink legally, and didn’t have to cross my legs when I sneezed. This year, the Feb 14 weekend highlights included sweatpants, consistent pees in the potty (not just by us), giant m&m’s from the grandparents, aisle-walking Ikea, and dance parties to Shake It Off and Disney. And it was great. Which got me thinking about who we love, what we love, and how the things we love and celebrate at this stage of our life will overwhelmingly be munchkin-driven. But in the great s...