Hiatus

I've unintentionally set writing aside. Sadly placed in a column neighboring all the other things I've lost time for. My mornings at work are spent day dreaming of the lovely worded posts I'd write had I the time or the inspiration or the energy. Posts that were spent explaining and exclaiming words of my family's beauty or how adorably comedic our little Lola has become. Sentences saturated with the joys of parenting, the rewards of mothering, the evolution of a seven year love.

As I race the clock, setting tables, chairs, carnation-filled vases in anticipation of the morning rush, my mind resides in the little place where my loves lay fast asleep. I miss my mornings at home. Waking up to our sweet girl, her ambitious bedhead, and her warm desire to be snuggled first thing in the morning. I'm craving our long mornings, our afternoon naps, and our time spent outdoors. I miss our hours at the park, our spontaneous walks up and down Midtown's streets, and the coziness of our little apartment. And though most days I make it home with just enough energy to shower my little girl with, I am thankful for an opportunity to provide for my family.

I am thankful for Pieter. For the patience he has with our daughter, the unconditional love he has for us both. I am thankful for his encouragement, the way he offers to do more around the house. How understanding he is when my only need is to go to bed. I appreciate him more for the time he spends nurturing our daughter's young mind, working with her on her manners, teaching her to be kind, showing her how to love.

And though most days are the busy kinds, non-stop from sunrise to sunset, this day is out of the norm. I will sit and be, enjoying my little family, my loves. I will spend my day embracing my girl, making mental notes of her sweetness, taking pictures of her joy, and savoring the hours I have to spend with her. I will spend this day with my husband to be, deep in conversation, expressing the desires of our future together. I will make time for myself, and maybe for this little blog, as I search for my voice and the ease and effortlessness that came before our busy schedule took over.

Today will be good.

Packing Up

The very real reality that we are moving in a matter of days has finally set in. Our apartment needs sorting and packing; some type of cleanse even, ridding us of the random junk we've acquired over the three years (give or take) we've lived here. I'm kicking it into high gear, abandoning my sit and be frame of mind, anxious about getting into our new home. I'm not overwhelmed, though. I've got this little girl on my side. She's great at packing boxes.

We make a great team, this girl and me. She pulls down items from shelves, and hands them to me. I compliment on how wonderful of helper she is and she responds, "You're elcome." Sweet girl.

This little love nest has been kind to us, the place we've called home. Comfortable, convenient, and cozy; just right in a Goldie Locks kinda way. As we box up the last three years of our lives, stumbling upon memories, I realize how far we've come. I'll miss this little place.

Comfortable

With August gone, I'm beginning to feel a little more comfortable, a little more at home. I anxiously await the vibrant palette that will eventually consume Midtown's canopy of leaves. These moments are drawing closer. Steadily inching their way near with cooling temperatures. Trees are proud enough to be the bearers of the first yellow leaves. The early morning hours have returned to their dark, desolate, and unoccupied state. I feel at peace around this time of year. Content, still very much indulging in my sit and be frame of mind. I'm enjoying my surroundings, keeping a close watch on nature, hoping to take a mental picture of the seasonal transition.

I love this small window of calendar weeks. The ones where Summer and Autumn go head to head in a tug-of-war, fighting long and hard over the weeks shadowing Summer's end. This fight to the finish allows me to have my cake and eat it too. Although I'm high on the fact that the Autumn months are quickly approaching, I'm not about to lie and tell you that I've forgotten altogether about the the small joys of Summer.

 My addiction to heirloom tomatoes has been deep and passionate. Whether it be in the level of sophistication that comes with a Caprese salad (the way tomato, basil, and mozzarella play equally important roles), or the fancy shmancy open-faced breakfast sandwich (the combination of tomato, squash, and an over-medium egg atop buttery, toasted sourdough bread), it's fair to say that I'll be enjoying these bad boys until they disappear from the stands at our local farmer's markets, their existence becoming nothing but a memory.

And though I'm holding tight to the taste of Summer, I'll be open about dipping early into the Fall flavor profile. Pumpkin Spice is back. I can once again let my Fall-freak-flag wave proudly.

This upcoming season has a lot in store for us. With our big move rapidly approaching and a to-do list left untouched, I decided to skip out on all the responsibilities leading up to the big day, the sorting, tossing, and packing, and spend a day with this girl.

 

The day was spent well. Spent in interaction. In exploration. In stepping back and discovering who this little girl is becoming. She's an interesting little thing, my bright girl. She's got a big sense of humor, spitting out remarks with ease almost as if she's used these lines for years. She's a go-getter, and has a funny way of being demanding when she gets really excited. Today she demanded a baby whale.

 And that's what she got...

I watched and noticed how much she's grown, the way her legs have stretched, how expressive she can be, and how long her hair has become, still holding onto those sweet curls I love so much.

 

I've been thinking a lot about our move, how I envision our life will change. I can't help but believe that the Utopian Summer we've experienced will continue on through the months to come. There's something exciting about a new home. A new feeling, new expectations. A chance to recreate and start over.

I've been dreaming much of the sounds of her little footsteps racing down halls and into bedrooms, her excitement and curiosity when we turn the soil, planting the bulbs and seeds we'll eventually enjoy, the way she'll pick plump cherry tomatoes right from the vine. We'll do breakfast on the patio. I'll sip long and slow from my big mug, watching her as she plays on the moist lawn in her jammies and rain boots. 

Autumn has a lot in store for us.

Sit and Be.

Rejoice with your family in the beautiful land of life!  ~Albert Einstein 

My blog has been collecting dust. Neglected and set aside as I've really been taking the time to focus on each day. To be more preset. More involved. I've become distracted from documenting and sharing, allowing myself to indulge fully in the richness and beauty that resides in these days. To just sit and be. To make little mental notes. I've lost the itch that comes along with a blog and a devoted following of friends and family anxious to know what this little trio has been up to.
Forgive me.

We've been no busier than usual, no special vacations or outings. We're just in love. In love with each other. With our life. With every present moment, every twist and turn being thrown our way, seizing opportunities and revamping our perspectives on certain circumstances.

Even in the final resting hours of each long day after the last few precious moments where I lay my sweet girl down for the night, I sit in recollection of our day. Of our family. Of the warm feeling that resides deep in my heart when I think about these two beautiful people.

 

I can't help but feel truly blessed. Fortunate enough to have a family with such dynamic beauty. Such love. A love that has sprouted out of one that started almost six years ago, surpassing the convoluted seasons of life, allowing us to truly flourish in this present moment. It's authentic and it's real. 

I love this man with all my heart. I love him for his patience. For his kind heart. For his cheesy sense of humor. For his ability to see the beauty and good in everyone. I love him because he nags me about continuing school and furthering my education. He encourages me to pursue writing and art, knowing that those, among many other things, are my passion. I love him because he loves our little girl. The way his eyes light up, his face consumed by a smile that shines brightly when he hears a very predictable chirp, a papa, as he turns the key and enters the door. He is my child's father.  And he is good.

I love my little girl. I love her innocence.

She has her father's kind heart and her mother's quick temper, my little spit-fire. She is gentle and loving and affectionate, always demanding hugs. She is a learner, anxious and energetic, eager to explore and discover new things. Her eyes are deep and warm, easily piercing the heavy-hearted. She is emotional. A feeler. Easily visible by the tears that form when she sees little puppies or any animal that's moved her. I love that I get to be her mother.

We are thriving beautifully in this land of life. Enjoying each other's presence, the little things. I am blessed to own the life I live. It's a good one.

We're trying to get back into the swing of things. A routine that starts with a cd strategically placed on our windowsill to catch the morning's light, reflecting arches of colors over my little sweet's crib in hopes that she'll catch a glimpse of the sudden miracle and start the morning off with a smile. A routine that requires a ritualistic and appropriately named cup of Awake tea, steamed non-fat, heavy foam, and a heavy helping of cinnamon, as we head over to our near by park.

We've gone on walks and rushed to our favorite stand at the local farmer's market, but all I want to do is seep deep in vacation mode. My house wears the signs of a mama who's retreated to this hideaway. Floors, only vacuumed twice, dishes tucked away in a soapy bath a little longer than even I'm comfortable with, and the laundry, well I don't really need to get into that one. Instead of tying the loose ends around the house, we let it be. We read books and watch movies and enjoy our snacks like old friends catching up over cups coffee. This mentality, this laissez-faire way of life, can sometimes be sweet. Sometimes it's how I savor little memories and special moments.

Like taking Lola to see the horses by Meema's house, seeing the way her little eyes widen with excitement.

Or her curiosity when she experienced the beach for the first time, the feeling of each minute grain of sand between her tiny toes. The sound of constant waves running up on shore and the chills felt when tiny toes were dipped at the water's edge.

Or the early morning trek we took to see the horses once more, creeping out of the house while the boys stayed in. The way the deep and dense fog crept slowly yet consistently over Leo Carillo, my little girl tucked away in the stroller observing the cottontails and little birds scurrying by, was picturesque.

Or the hike exposing the contrasting beauty of ocean and mountains of Meema's land. Lola hiked to the top like an old pro and Pieter played forest ranger extraordinaire, scouting out the places deer had been, proving that he is really just a boy at heart.

Or the time we spent with family celebrating my brother's return.

Or how we ended our last day with a trip with a visit to the Malibu farmer's market. The sight of locals crowding under tents in search of fruits and veggies, milk, juice, eggs, flowers, and baked goodies. Then, giving Lola chance to play like a local child at the Malibu Country Mart Courtyard.

There were so many other wonderful memories, some of which I'll remember forever. I look forward to more family vacations in the future.