Makes me happy

My child is a hopelessly terrible sleeper. He stays up most nights until 1 or 2 in the morning. There’s nothing that puts this kid out. After too many months of being frustrated, I finally threw in the towel and said fine, stay up as late as you want. But you’ll do it in your room, and you’ll be quiet. This arrangement has been incredibly effective. I still don’t fall asleep before him, but at least I’m not torturing myself (and him) with hours of futile attempts to get him to sleep. He hops right up in bed when he’s ready and goes to sleep on his own.

Occasionally this arrangement doesn’t work out, for various reasons. Like last night he was terrified of his room and begged to come to my bed. I admit to being a little frustrated. I had plans, dangit. Put laundry away. Watch a show that’s inappropriate for children. Eat candy.

Instead we turned on Angry Birds. I answered a million questions. I reminded him to be quiet a billion times.

Project 365 Day 5

I watched him sit on the edge of the bed during the exciting parts. It was late and I was tired, but I was happy.

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Trish Signature

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Warmth

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The small child’s favorite movie of the moment is The BFG. He builds himself little forts and declares the inside “giant country” which is both cute and ironic. He drinks frobscottle (fizzy drink where the bubbles go down instead of up) and lets out great big whizzpoppers (explosive green farts). He’s starting to sound more and more like the actual BFG, and the scariest part is, I can actually understand him. A good sign we’ve watched the movie way too many times.

When he’s not acting the part of the giant, he’s wrapped in a blanket, calling himself Sophie. Truthfully, I think he’s just cold because he walks around the house with no bottoms on all day. Speaking of, potty training the little fournado is moving right along. I wish I understood why he’s so resistant, but we’re getting through it. And today when I very excitedly praised him for pooping in the potty he disdainfully informed me that it was not poop, but a “solid turd.”

Maybe one day I will be as smart as he is.

Project 365 Day 4

Some days he’s so into having his picture taken. Today was not one of those days. I still think he’s pretty cute when he’s willfully ignoring me pleas to just look at the camera though.

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I is for…

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I swear I don’t know how to adult, like at all. I spent probably an hour looking for a calendar online. Then I ended up wasting an obscene amount of time searching all of Barnes & Noble for this particular calendar I really super duper want (their website lied, they don’t have the coveted calendar), and before I knew it, it was time to head to the movies. But my kid wasn’t even ready because why would I remember to do that? And after the movie of course I needed to go to Dollar Tree. And Target. Because I was on the other side of town and those stores might have different stuff than the ones on my side. And before you ask, yes I did need that $1 Hanukkah sign even though I’m not Jewish. I also needed those Reese’s Pieces stuffed Peanut Butter Cups. They’re chilling in the fridge. I’m waiting for the small child to go to bed so I don’t have to share. Mom of the year.

But do you think anywhere in there I remembered I might want to try to get a picture for today?

Nope. So once again, only 3 days into this challenge, I’m still scrambling. I have a feeling this is going to be a common theme.

When we got home I asked Wyatt if he thought we should get some pictures of his toys. He loves having photo shoots with his toys, so he was totally down. I took pictures of dinosaurs and the Millennium Falcon and trains and various super heroes. But my most favorite is him playing with the ice cream cones from this Melissa and Doug set (thanks aunt Jenn!).

Project 365 Day 3

He was coming over to let me have a lick. Because even though he’s definitely a “fournado” he’s still pretty sweet. As I’m writing this he’s behind me on the chair, his Spiderman umbrella open and perched over my head so I don’t get wet. I told you he was sweet.

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A memory

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I don’t really do resolutions, but I was awake in bed one night this week (shout out to my insomnia) and began thinking about some things I’d like to do differently in 2017. Be more positive. Get more active. Stop doubting myself. Stop letting other people’s problems affect me so much.

Take more pictures. 

I really slacked off in the picture department last year. I just couldn’t find the motivation or the inspiration. I’m sure if I’d tried at all to look for it, I’d have found some. But I didn’t, and I want to do things differently this year. So I’m tasking myself with what I hope will be a simple project. One picture a day. It doesn’t have to be my best, it just has to tell part of my story in 2017.

And I’m sure this won’t be hard to believe, but I totally forgot that I needed to take a picture today. So I slapped the speedlight on my camera and went to find my child. He was about to be my model whether he liked it or not. I was not going to fail on day one, dammit!

He’d just woken up from a nap. He was grumpy and hangry. So I did what any responsible mother would do. Gave him an entire bag of donuts.

365 Project Day 1

When I’m old and gray I want to remember him just like this. Messy. Goofy. Happy.

Here’s to a great 2017.

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My soul will always know yours

I’d heard my mom describe being in the room as someone passes away as a “privilege” and I will admit, it struck me as odd. A privilege? Don’t you mean depressing? That must be what you meant to say. Or scary as hell? Yeah, that’s probably what she meant. But a few weeks ago, after sitting at the foot of my grandma’s bed as she took a few last peaceful breaths, I finally understood what my mom meant. It is a privilege to be there in those moments, because not everyone gets that. And as hard as it is to watch someone you love leave this world, it’s also an honor to be there to help them along. To make them comfortable. To hold their hand or stroke their face or wet their lips or just to whisper “I love you” in their ear. I wouldn’t trade those moments for anything and I am so thankful I made it there in time.

A few days later, while we were at the funeral saying our final goodbyes, I was having a serious internal struggle about whether or not I was going to speak. I had something prepared. A few paragraphs typed out and stuffed into my purse. One minute I was ready to tell the minister that I was for sure going to speak, and the next I was ready to go outside and set that piece of paper on fire and find the nearest bar. Funerals are dumb. Dying is stupid. There was no way I was getting up there to stutter like an idiot in front of all my grandma’s friends and family. She deserved better than that.

I sat and listened to the minister speak so kindly about my grandma. How humble she was about her crocheting talent. She made blankets for everyone. Beautiful, elaborate blankets. She made blankets for the hospital, so they’d have something special to wrap stillborn babies in. She crocheted clothes for my barbies when I was a kid. They are amazing. And for her, it was no big deal. It was just something she did. And I cried because I wish I’d told her how special all those things were too me. Maybe she knew. I hope she knows now.

When it was my mom’s turn to speak, she talked about my grandma’s strength and how she loved her family and cared for them the best she knew how. But one thing really stood out to me, and it’s when my mom said she couldn’t ever remember a time when she saw my grandma afraid. She was strong and she did what had to be done. It was true. And there I was with sweaty palm over whether or not I was going to get up and talk to a room full of people for 2 minutes. She’s have had no problem talking to all them. And so, I decided I wouldn’t either.

This is the story I shared with them:

A couple of months ago I was visiting my grandma in the hospital. Her heath was declining pretty rapidly, and mentally it seemed like she was barely there. But somehow, through all the illness and confusion, she was determined to have her personality shine through. She joked with the nurses and every offer of help was met with an “I can do it myself!” That was definitely grandma.

Eventually it was just the two of us in the room. I turned on White Christmas, a movie I watched for the first time with her so many years ago. After a while I realized my grandma had stopped watching the movie, and was smiling and staring at me instead. I smiled back and said “I love you Grandma.” She replied “Probably not as much as I love you. You know, you seem just like one of my grandkids.”

She didn’t remember who I was.

My heart sank a little. She didn’t know me. Except, she still knew she loved me. And in that moment I realized what an amazing gift she’d just given me. She showed me that while this life may take our bodies and our minds, those aren’t required for love. Our souls take care of that for us. There I was, sitting with a woman who’d forgotten me, but our souls were still as connected as ever. And I knew they always would be.

Thank you Grandma for being so determined to stay who you were through everything, and for the comfort I feel now knowing that even though you’re gone from this earth, your love remains.

Happy Haven Project

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Want to keep up with all my cake-fueled ramblings? You can subscribe to my newsletter or find me at one of these places:


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