little black journal

It’s getaway season!  The Schnell clan hit the road again last Friday, loading up the car for a weekend on Whidbey Island with the gang.  It was raining cats and dogs when we pulled up to our waterfront rental – waves roared and crashed just 50 feet from the living room windows while Nico and Jules pounded on the sliding glass door and shouted “Wa-wa!  Wa-wa!”.  But just as I cranked up the heat and poured myself a hot cup of tea, the clouds parted and the sun shone – suddenly it was rock-throwing weather!

Isaiah was particularly excited to dip his toes in the water.

We wolfed down a couple of pizzas for dinner and then whisked all of the kiddos upstairs for bedtime.  La Verne and I caught an amazing sunset together while Jack and Shane got the little ones to sleep.  The sound of the smooth, polished rocks clicking against each other as the waves receded was the stuff of dreams.

Juliette heard the ocean calling her name at 6:30 the next morning – Shane took her out on our bedroom’s deck to enjoy the dawn while I took my time crawling out from under the covers.

We ate a leisurely breakfast while the kids colored, stacked Legos, and played trains.

But the mid-morning stir-crazies inevitably set in, so we headed into Coupeville to check out the (tiny) farmer’s market and walk the pier.

We went back to the house around lunchtime, where Nico and Jules each waged epic naptime battles against La Verne and me.  Once all was quiet upstairs, I poured myself a cup of coffee and went outside to happily recline in one of the porch’s Adirondacks.

Shane used his “quiet time” to build a tide marker with the boys.  Thick as thieves, these three.

And Jason went for a spin in the kayak that was propped against the side of the house.  I, on the other hand, sat some more.

Juliette sensed there was fun being had without her and only slept an hour – she was eager to get out on the rocks with Gryff.

Such mutual adoration!

My Mother Goose moment:

This sweet kid can’t resist jumping into a family photo (even if it’s not his family!).

Jules and I sat on the rocks together for a solid thirty minutes, looking for birds and watching the boys play while we chatted and snuggled.  I forgive you for those pre-nap hysterics, baby.

We eventually made our way to the porch for snacktime and happy hour.

Juliette compared her grapes with Nico’s and ultimately decided his were more desirable, though they came from the same bag.  Figures.

CHEERS.

We drank champagne, munched on steamed mussels, and caught the day’s final rays before throwing the kids in the tub and tucking them into bed.

Jack made his famous spaghetti alle vongole for dinner and then we stayed up late, drinking and talking and asking increasingly personal questions as the night wore on.  Felt good to really get real with these folks, without the distraction of kids under foot.  It had been too long.

Gryffin’s first comment when we all stumbled downstairs on Sunday morning was, “Oh.  Looks like you haven’t had time to brush Baby Jules’ hair!”  ‘Fraid not.

Jason took Isaiah out for a spin on the kayak while Nance baked breakfast scones.  Shane put our favorite praise playlist on the speakers and as I sipped my coffee and looked out at the incredible view, I took a deep breath, filling my heart with the smells and sounds and sights of all God’s goodness.  I missed being part of our church’s Easter service, but in that moment, I was still so acutely aware that He Is Risen.

“Hey kids!  Smile for the camera!”  Nailed it.

Once the scones had been devoured and the eggs had been found and the cars had been loaded, it was time to hang up the ol’ kayak and say Sayonara to our beachfront abode.

But first, one last hug!

We drove through Skagit Valley tulip country on the way home and when we heard that the flowers were in full bloom, we decided to brave the crowds and take a peek.  Gryffin and Isaiah showed Jules the way.

And ho-ly tulips, Batman!  It was gorgeous.

I’m not sure where Juliette picked up the concept of flower-sniffing, but she couldn’t help herself.

A final good-bye to our friends and we were back on the road.  It had been an atypical Easter Sunday, but no less joyous than any year past.  Thanks be to God.

A few weeks ago at one of my Friday morning mama/baby play dates, we started talking about how fun it would be to all get away for a weekend together.  I know – two days in one house with fourteen adults and seven toddlers?  Could be fun.  Could also be complete mayhem…  But Adrienne found us some huge kid-friendly digs in Port Townsend and everyone else jumped at the idea, so Shane and I decided we were up for the adventure.

And while I’d hardly call the weekend relaxing, it was indeed full of laughter and play and lots good food.  As we all sat down for dinner on Friday, I was struck by how incredibly blessed I feel to be part of this crew.

Once the kids were all tucked into bed that night, the grown-ups headed out for s’mores and stories at the backyard firepit, huddling together until the rain drove us inside.

We were up bright and much too early on Saturday, but it was nice to look out at the early morning fog with a cup of coffee in hand.

Once we’d all eaten and properly caffeinated, we drove over to Fort Warden State Park to hang out on the beach.  The kids contentedly played in the sand for nearly an hour – such focus!

And when all that scooping lost its charm, there were rocks to be thrown.

We went back to the house for lunch and a little pre-nap storytime with La Verne.

And while the kiddos slept, we assembled three big pans of lasagna for dinner – cooking for 21 is no joke!

When everyone was back up and at ’em, we herded the little ones out back for an Easter egg hunt.  On your marks, get set…

Go!

Juliette made quick work of filling up her basket.

And then emptying her basket, putting all of her eggs into N’s little bunny.  We were so proud of her for sharing!  Until she reached over and tried to yank N’s whole basket out of his hands.  I’m afraid her generosity only comes in quickly-fleeting bursts.

Oh, Jules!

Once the last egg had been found, we worked out the last of those afternoon wiggles in the house’s ball-filled garage…

And the crazy upstairs playroom, which was piled with giant foam blocks.

photo by Adrienne

The house was equipped for plenty of toys for the grown-ups, too!  Seriously, it was like an 8-bedroom amusement park.

photo by Adrienne

We chowed down on our lasagna, did the bath-time/bed-time circus, and the house was quiet by 8 pm.  Amanda popped popcorn, the last few beers were pulled from the fridge, and we all sat down to cap off the day with a rousing game of True Colors.

Everyone slept soundly that night (a minor miracle!) and then we gathered in the kitchen for Sunday breakfast as our weekend in toddler town wound down.  Juliette and N pounded out a few tunes on the piano while Shane and I packed up our things.

There were times when the house crazily rang with sounds of thuds and laughter and cries and squeals, and there were times when a kid or two went temporarily missing, but really, the weekend couldn’t have gone better.  We partied hard, pigged out, played and played and played.  No doubt, we’re a fun, wild bunch.

I spent Sunday making good on one of my New Years resolutions – my first (and last?) half marathon is in the bag!  And sweet Jesus, I’m glad that run is behind me…

I signed up for the Mercer Island Half at the beginning of the year and promptly started training with lots of guidance from Shane, who has run this race several times.  He loaded up my calendar with gradually-increasing distance targets and mapped out a number of courses that included plenty of elevation change to prep me for Mercer’s hills.  And I slogged away at those miles, strapping Jules into the stroller on Thursday mornings and Friday afternoons for jogs up around (and around, and around) Jefferson Park.  Saturday or Sunday mornings were devoted to long runs, where I would do portions of the race course or head down to Lake Washington for loops through Leschi or Seward Park.  I missed a few days when I came down with that cold (and then that hacking cough, and then that stomach bug), but generally managed to stay on track.  As race day drew near, I would vacillate between confidence and outright dread.  I’d do a solid 8-miler and think, “I got this!”  And then my knee would start to ache or I’d be put out of commission with another cold and I’d wonder, “What in the world were you thinking?”  I freaked out a couple of times last week, imagining myself barely hobbling to the finish with a side ache or a bum leg, crushed with the disappointment of missing my 2-hour time target.  I fretted and whined and threatened to bail.  I went to my coach for a pep talk, and his advice to me was, “Just have fun!”  Thanks a heap, sweetheart.  I was having a tough time finding the promise of fun amidst visions of pants-wetting and excruciating pain.

And then it was race day.  We made it to Mercer Island with plenty of time for me to hit the porta potty (twice), stretch a bit, make sure I had my bib number pinned on straight, my Shot Bloks tucked in my pocket, and my shoelaces tied tight.  My eyes actually filled with tears as Shane kissed me on the cheek and told me it was time for me to head off to the start line – you’d think I was heading into battle, the way I cried as I stroked Juliette’s hair, looked into Shane’s eyes and said a choked-up good-bye.  My nerves were on overdrive and threatening to get the best of me, so I took a few deep breaths, headed into the sea of spandex-clad runners, and said a prayer for strength and endurance as I waited for the starting horn.  Finally, after months of preparation, logging mile after mile in my trusty old Brooks, HOOOOONNNNNNK!  It was go time!

And I felt…great.  My legs were strong, my breathing was steady, I didn’t feel the urge to pee or vomit as feared.  The weather was perfect and the course was beautiful, with tree-lined switchbacks and views of the water around each bend.  I had my phone strapped to my arm and was thrilled to hear RunKeeper tell me that I was hitting each mile mark ahead of my target 9:10 pace.  Mile 2, average pace, 8:55 per mile…Mile 5, average pace, 8:56 per mile…Mile 8, average pace, 8:55 per mile.  Shane had carefully mapped out his cheering route and he and Juliette popped up at miles 3, 5, and 7 to give me high-fives.  I waved to them and yelled to Juliette that mama would see at the finish reeeeeal soon.  I was flyin’!

Then mile 10 happened.  My legs got a little rubbery and I felt myself slowing down.  I pressed on, counting my strides and telling myself that once I counted to 100 six times, I should be at the next mile marker.  I saw the sign for mile 11 and perked up a little – the end felt so close!  And yet, it was still so, so far away.  The course’s biggest hill cruelly falls at mile 11, and dang, it hurt.  It was like I was running in ten inches of mud.  My legs screamed at me and threatened to unattach themselves from my body.  “What the hell, lady?  We’re not cut out for this!”  I popped my last Shot Blok, I huffed and I puffed.  Mile 12, average pace, 9:05 per mile.  I was slipping!  I started counting my strides again, struggled to find a rhythm.  At last, in the distance, I heard the cheers and cow bells of the finish line.  I saw Shane and Jules and Jack and La Verne waving from the sidelines, threw back my shoulders, turned on my turbo-boosters, and finished with all I had.

Thanks, Jack, for the action shots!

I took a minute to catch my breath and wolf down an orange and then made my way to my peeps, posing for a runner’s pic with Jack, who had finished his 10k earlier in morning.

And…final time?  1:59:43!  I squeaked in just under my goal and lived to tell about it, in all it’s overly-dramatic glory.

Mucho, mucho thanks to my insanely supportive husband, who told me over and over and over that I could do this, and to my insanely heavy daughter, who made me feel like superwoman each time I managed to push her stroller up that mondo hill on our Thursday runs.  I’m so glad you made me do this.  And I’m so glad I never have to do it again.

Remember this post?  Remember how January was all coughing and sore throats and runny noses?  Remember how thankful I was for the dawn of a new, healthy month?  Scratch that.  I’m afraid Chez Schnell is still sick central.  Shane has felt like he’s had his head in a fishbowl for the last four weeks, with a head cold he can’t quite shake.  I’ve had three colds myself, one case of pinkeye, and am currently ailing from a wheezy, rattling cough that makes me sound like I need to lay off the smokes.  Juliette continues to leave a lovely trail of snot in her wake, like some kind of two-legged (all be it adorable) slug.

And yesterday, just as I resolved that March would be our month to kick all these viruses to the curb, Juliette came down with a brand new fever.  We put her to bed early and then I hit the sack at 8:00, praying that the cough suppressant that the Urgent Care doctor had prescribed would allow me to get a decent night’s sleep.  I woke to the sound of Juliette wailing around 9:00, and after Shane’s unsuccessful attempt to soothe her, I got up to give it a go.  Halfway to her room, I started feeling woozy and spent the next ten minutes hunched over the toilet while my poor, feverish girl screamed from the next room.  Add stomach bug my list of woes.

On that note, I’m so glad we got 2015’s low point out of the way this early in the year!  I have to believe things will look up from here – I didn’t puke at all today, and Juliette’s fever seems to have passed, so rather than wallowing among our discarded Kleenex, I’m cautiously optimistic that we’re on the upswing.  And, I’m so thankful my mom has been here the past few days to help us through this.  Though I would have loved for her visit to have occurred under better circumstances, it was so nice to have her here to nurse us toward health with homemade bone broth and an extra hand with Jules.

And before we hit our wall on Sunday night, we did manage a fun little outing to Seward Park to go for a stroll and throw rocks.

I’m going to play the fool and say it again:  cheers to the dawn of a bright and shining new month.

This year started out great, with midnight champagne and New Years morning donuts and a very rewarding home-organization binge, and then…it all just kind of fell apart.  The cold flu straight-up clobbered us last month.  I think Shane’s been sick 20 out of the last 30 days; Juliette started sniffling on Tuesday and then hacking on Wednesday and spent all day Thursday wandering around the house whimpering, “mama?  mama?  mmmmmmaaaaaaaammmmmmmaaaaaa!!!!”;  I was more than happy to snuggle up with her until she gazed up at me with her sad, red-rimmed eyes and coughed directly into my mouth, and sure enough, I started feeling achy and sore-throated on Friday.  There was also a bout of toddler teething misery (which made all of us miserable), an anxiety-riddled decision about whether or not to move Juliette to a new daycare, work-related stresses for Shane and I, and the fact that we were continuing our tradition of frugal January, which meant no drowning our sorrows in shopping sprees or Tutta Bella happy hour.  Good riddance, January.  You feelin’ me, Jules?

Cheers to the dawn of a bright and shining (or at least ever-so-slightly less dark) new month.  May the rivers of snot go dry and the lattes flow like waterfalls.

Good Lord, are we already two weeks into January?  Feels like a couple of nights ago we were raising our glasses to the dawn of 2015 with Jack and La Verne at our first babies/parents sleepover!

(photo by La Verne)

Maybe it’s a bit late to be getting my resolutions down on paper screen (resolve to be more punctual?  nah…), but here goes:

Get out of the house SANS BABY with Shane at least once a month.  Sadly, I can count on one hand the number of times we got out for a grownup date in 2014.  Shane and I have always been homebodies, but now it seems it takes extra effort to hit the town, what with finding a sitter and having to dig so deeply in our energy reserves to stay out past 8 pm.  But it’s time – time to sit across from each other and share a meal without being interrupted every 25 seconds to retrieve whatever utensil Juliette has thrown on the floor.  Time to make each other more of a priority.  Time to put away my toddler-chasing boots, pull out my insensible heels, and sip a proper cocktail!

Make art with Juliette.  Get out the paints or the markers or the glitter and glue, at least once a week.  It will be messy.  She may end up ingesting all kinds of art supplies that aren’t meant to be eaten.  But I can’t wait to see what comes of this one.

Learn how to make the best use my camera.  I take a lot of pictures, almost all of them in auto mode.  Some of them turn out ok.  Many others turn out blurry or grainy or too dark or too bright.  I took a picture of Juliette at Christmas – she had just opened a gift and was looking down into the box with utter delight.  Her expression was priceless.  But the photo is junk – totally blurry and way too bright.  I had fiddled with the settings on my camera a few minutes prior, but something was clearly off and I’m bummed to have missed out on capturing that moment the way I wanted to.  So finally, this is the year I figure out what a freaking f/stop is.

Be physically active.  Having a mileage goal kept my butt in gear last year, but I’m aiming for more variety in my fitness regime this year and am going to focus on something different each quarter, with the hope that I’ll eventually find a way to incorporate all four of these activities into my regular schedule.  Quarter 1: Just keep running.  Train for and complete my first (and possibly last) half-marathon (on the books for March 22nd!).  Quarter 2: Renew my online Barre3 subscription and do 2-3 workouts/week.  Quarter 3: Enjoy the sun and go hiking, at least twice a month.  Is this crazy, knowing we’ll have an almost-two year old?  Probably so.  Quarter 4: Swim?  I haven’t done laps since I was pregnant with Juliette, but swimming has always been one of my favorite workouts.  I’m still figuring out how/when/where to make it to the pool on my own, but I’m going to give it a shot.

End the year with less stuff in our house than there is right now.  This one will be a little hard to accurately gauge, but I did snap photos of our closets as a day-1 record and hope to spend the next 12 months purging, organizing, and, most importantly, limiting the number of new things that come through our front door.   I think there’s a minimalist buried deep inside me, trying to burrow her way out of the over-stuffed sock drawer.  I’m hoping to give her a little space to breathe.

 

Jules and I getting a head start on resolution #2 on New Year’s Day – she was a natural with that paintbrush!

And then all hell broke loose…

 

Cheers to a year of livin’ large (and simply).

I know, we’re 8 days in 2015; it’s time to get on board with the new year and close the books on 2014, but I can’t just yet.  It was such a good year.  There were downs, for sure, but the highs were so beautifully high.  I want to memorialize that goodness one last time before setting my feet firmly in 2015, so I’m borrowing a theme from La Verne and jotting down my own 2014 time capsule.

Favorite movie:  I only made it to the movies a handful of times but I’m glad I was able to experience Wild on the big screen.

I read the book, a true-story chronicle of Cheryl Strayed’s solo hike along the Pacific Crest Trail, a couple of years ago and loved it. And I think I loved the on-screen version even more.  I spent a good half of the movie either holding my breath or holding back tears – Reese Witherspoon nailed it.

 

Favorite TV show:  Homeland was killer last season, Parenthood had me in tears a few times, but girls, girls, Girls!

Wow, Lena Dunham/Hannah Horvath is brilliant – funny and articulate and creative and original.  Not the kind of show you want to watch with your parents, but it was just the thing I needed to counteract my Sunday night blues.  Award for most-transformed television character goes to Hannah’s boyfriend, Adam.

 

Favorite song:  Jules and I listen to more Taylor Swift than I’d like to admit, but when I’m at work or in the car alone and put on my “latest faves” Spotify playlist, Ledges by Noah Gundersen is the first song that plays.

I saw him perform three or four years ago and have been a fan ever since – I’m not sure if it’s the husky voice or the accompaniment of his sister’s violin or the emotionally-charged lyrics, but I can’t get enough.

 

Favorite new accessory:  Shane bought me a black leather cross-body Kate Spade purse for Christmas, and I’m still kind of swooning over it.

Perfectly sized, the leather drapes beautifully when the bag isn’t full, the lining and stitching and buckles all have that extra-refined high-quality touch – this is first really nice purse I’ve owned and…I’m afraid Kohl’s just lost a customer.

 

Favorite purchase:  At the risk of sounding unbelievably un-thrilling, its our Dyson cordless vacuum.

This was our one Black Friday purchase, and it’s a total game changer.  Super-portable, which is key for our three-level townhouse, particularly since we’ve added a cereal-spiller to our family.  We vacuum three times more often than we used to because it’s so easy to pull this thing out of the closet and run it for a few minutes. Honorable mention in the “favorite purchase” category goes to to the Bob running stroller we scored on Craigslist.

 

Favorite professional moment:  Standing at the top my project’s atrium, two and a half years after I sat down with the team to develop the first rough massing studies.

I know, it’s still got a ways to go, but my heart fluttered a little when I visited the jobsite last month and experienced the real-life proportions of the building I’ve seen only on paper (and screen) for so long – I’ve pored over the details of that atrium, and I’m feeling affirmed once all the scaffolding is out of there, the glass guardrails are in, and the cantilevered conference pods receive their wood cladding, it’s going to be amazing.

 

Favorite personal pastime:  “Me-time” was a little hard to come by in 2014, but when I did manage a break from work or baby, I…looked at pictures of baby.

It’s been a lot of fun though, chronicling Juliette’s life via blog and baby book.  I’m already forgetting what she looked like a few months ago, how old she was when she took her first swing ride or started crawling, so I’m glad I have a record of it.  And I’m glad she’ll have this record as well – today we pulled out her photo album and I told her stories about her early life (since she’s so old now!).  We looked at pictures from the time Grandma and Aunt Tiff came to visit and talked about our summer park outings with our buddies.  She seemed into it – I’m glad she’s starting to understand that I’m constantly shoving a camera in her face for good purpose!

 

On that note, favorite picture of Juliette (Lord knows there were so many!):  This one because it so perfectly captures that goofy, unbridled joy that made my heart fit to burst time and again.  Plus, I’m a sucker for that thigh roll.

And this one, because man, the number of times I have looked over at her sitting in her high chair, witnessed a new facial expression, and laughed out loud:

Ok, this one too (I knew I couldn’t pick just one!), because yikes!  That hair and those cheeks:

 

Favorite moments:

Probably this:

 

And this – the woods across the street from us have never looked more beautiful.  And our house has never felt cozier than it did after that walk, when we curled up on the couch with Jules and her favorite books:

 

But also this – oh, to feel the sun on my shoulders and the sand between my toes again:

 

And damn, this was good:

 

Alright, 2015.  I’m ready for ya now.  Top that.

Happy New Year!  The Christmas tree has been put out at the curb, the house is refreshingly decluttered after a January 1st organizing binge (another new tradition?), and I’m looking forward, thinking about my hopes and goals for 2015.  But first, a look back at how I did on last year’s resolutions:

Read to Juliette every day.  Check.  One of the easiest resolutions I’ve ever kept, as reading has become one of our favorite time-passers and an integral part of our nighttime routine.  Juliette loves when I throw the pillows on the floor and ask her to curl up next to me with I Want My Hat Back or Gossie.  She’s recently really taken to reading by herself as well – we did a little rearranging yesterday to set up a reading corner in our living room, and Juliette quickly grabbed a couple of books and claimed this chair as her own.

Limit all non-essential purchases to things that I truly love.  Gah!  Damn you, GAP sales!  I continue to be a total sucker for a that little kick of adrenaline that comes with a good deal or a new outfit, so my closet is filled with sweaters and jeans that I don’t need, but kinda like.  On the other hand, we’ve done well on the toy front and have made good use of gifts and borrowed items, only buying a few special books and blocks and puzzles for Juliette.  House purchases have been kept to a minimum as well – I picked up a couple of baskets to clean up our entryway and we invested in a totally-worth-it Dyson vacuum, but other than that, I steered clear of West Elm and Crate and Barrel.  The clothes, though, the clothes!  How quickly my resolve shatters when I see those brightly colored signs promising 50% off…

Limit my time on Facebook.  I’ve done alright on this one – there are still days when I fall down the Facebook vortex and find myself scrolling and scrolling and scrolling through status updates, wanting to be sure that I catch every new photo and linked article and clever blurb, but generally I’m finding that I care less and less about what I might be “missing” if I ease up on social media.  This means I’m reading more books, being more productive, and even getting a bit more sleep, since I’ve removed Facebook perusal from my bedtime routine.  Feels good.

Get back into a regular exercise rhythm (walk/run at least 365 miles this year).  Success!  I wanted to run at least half of these miles and squeaked by with a running tally of 185 miles and a walking tally of 187 miles, totaling 372 miles in 2014.  This resolution definitely got me back into the running groove, motivating me to get out there more often and for longer distances (although I still cut it dang close at the end – my goal-meeting run took place on New Years Eve!).  A special shout-out to Juliette, who embarked on at least three-quarters of these miles with me – I gave her a sweaty hug and a cookie when we finished Wednesday’s loop around Jefferson Park.  We did it, baby!

Two gold stars, one silver, and a bronze (or maybe copper?  I mean, I shopped those holiday sales hard).  Not too shabby, but plenty of room to grow.  Onward to 2015!

I’m finding that motherhood brings out both the best and the worst in me.  There are days when I surprise myself with my selflessness or my gentleness or my super-human strength as I lug a wriggling toddler and two bags of groceries across a parking lot because I forgot to park the car near the shopping cart drop-off (rookie mistake).  There are days when I run wild with Juliette on the playground, following her up the steps and down the slide and back again, and again, and again, playing through the monotony because to her, the up-downs never get old.  Then we head home and I read her the same book eight times over, because that silly bear in I Want My Hat Back is her favorite and storytime is one of the few chances I get to hold my busy girl extra-close.   There are days when she devours her broccoli quiche and her sweet potatoes and her homemade coconut-almond bars, politely signing “more” and “please” after each course, and I pat myself on my back for raising such a healthy, well-mannered little girl.

And then…there are those other kinds of days.  Days when she tosses her steamed vegetables and roasted chicken on the floor, so I throw up my hands and let her have a banana for dinner.  Days when I lay all the blankets and pillows on the living room floor with the pretense of wanting to snuggle, but in reality just praying that if I give her a big enough cup of Cheerios, she’ll leave me alone and let me doze for a precious few minutes.  Days when I altogether lose my shit.  Like the day we went to the zoo and it rained and rained, so I called it quits and we headed to the car where she whined and kicked as I wrestled her into her carseat.  Buckles finally secure, stroller folded into the trunk, my back completely soaked, I handed her a pouch of her favorite pear-pea puree for the ride home, expecting a little gratitude, but instead watching her grabby hands squeeze two-thirds of the green goo down the front of her shirt.  Horns sprouted from my head as I angrily yelled, “BABY, NO!!!  STOP!!!  NO, NO, NO!”.  She was momentarily startled into silence, her lip quivering and her eyes wide with fear.  Then she burst into one of the saddest wails I’ve ever heard.  I think I cried most of the way home, too, embarrassed and ashamed that I had lost my cool and become that crazy, shouting mom I’ve seen (and admittedly judged) so many times before.  And yesterday…ooofff.  Bad weather and a lack of motivation on my part kept us housebound, and after the sixth ransacking of the kitchen cupboards and the third meltdown over not being allowed to play in the fridge, I’d had enough.  “JULIETTE GRACE!  QUIT YOUR CRYING!”  I was done, sick of the messes and the whining and the complete lack of personal space.  I put her down for her afternoon nap at 9 am, partly because she seemed tired, but partly because I just couldn’t stand to be around her anymore.  Which sounds so awful, especially when I had just spent three days at work looking forward to Mama-Jules Thursday.  But did she not read the memo about snuggling together under piles of blankets, contentedly playing Legos while I took a shower?  Or was I suffering from my usual delusions of quiet grandeur and coming up short on patience when reality set in?  Yeah, patience…not my forte.  But apparently kind of essential if I’m going to make it through toddlerhood without turning into the Wicked Witch of the Pacific Northwest.  Craaaaaap.

The upside? At least she doesn’t hold grudges.

Juliette’s been waking up at 5 am this week.  Oy vey.  I can usually get her back down after 10-15 minutes and grab at least another hour of sleep before it’s time to get ready for work, but this morning, when I crawled back into bed at 5:15, I tossed and turned.  I burrowed further under the covers, scooted closer to the warmth of Shane’s body, turned my head away from the clock that was ticking its way toward my alarm, but sleep wouldn’t come.  My heart was heavy as my head spun with visions of mourning parents, cars on fire, faces twisted with anger and grief.  I haven’t said much, on social media or otherwise, about the situation in Ferguson.  I’ve “liked” a few Facebook posts that call for justice, I’ve ranted to Shane over the insensitivity of a few others, but mostly I’ve been silent.  I’m troubled and angry and full of sorrow, but…I’m also white.  Am I justified in standing alongside Michael Brown’s parents, alongside the hurting black community, without truly being able to empathize?  Can I begin to understand what they’re feeling, even though I can rest in the hope that there are governmental systems in place that will protect rather than harm my child?  Do the words from my privileged lips hold any weight?  Or is it time for me to get over my insecurities, agree with my friend Erica that often silence equals complicity, and speak up?

I keep coming back to the image below:

Such profound grief.  Having to bury your child must be one of the greatest sorrows conceivable.  And in the midst of all that grief, being caught in the the eye of a storm where your son is called the ugliest of names, where he’s accused and vilified in efforts to justify his death.  I can’t imagine.  But I can pray.

Lord, please lay your peace on the Brown family.  Hold them close.

And this picture:

So much division.  Unrest.  Distrust.  It’s hard for me to fathom, as I sit here in the quiet of our house on our quiet street.  I can’t say I’ve ever felt threatened or afraid because of the color of my skin.  I can’t tell you what it feels like to be treated as less than because of my race.  But I can pray.

Lord, bring reconciliation in the midst of all this pain.

And this picture:

Michael Brown isn’t just a symbol.  He was a young man whose life mattered, not because he was young or black or someone’s son, but because he was a human being, and I believe in a God who says that all life matters.  I can’t undo the shots that were fired on August 9th.  But I can be an advocate.  I can cry out against inequality.  I can get down on my knees and beg my God and my country’s leaders to bring about change and accountability in our broken system.

Lord, hear my prayers.