little black journal

In addition to my annual list of resolutions, I like to choose a word to dwell on throughout the year.  Last year I prayed that I would make myself vulnerable to a deep, fervent hope; this year I’m looking outward a little more, feeling called to be more fully present for the people in my life.  I’ve mentioned before how easily I can get sucked into my task list vortex, where the measure of a good day is based more on productivity than on quality time with friends or family.  The arrival of Juliette has clearly brought to light the necessity of recalibrating my priorities, putting my nearest and dearest above my to-do’s.  That baby of ours needs (and deserves) all kinds of attention.  And while she’s not shy about letting me know when she’s hungry or poopy or just wants to be held, what about those other times, when she’s sweetly content to just lay on the floor and suck on her fingers?  Is that my cue to rush downstairs to throw in a load of laundry, then hustle around the kitchen to get dinner ready?  Or is it my cue to pause, to throw a couple of pillows down and lay right next to her, to chat with her and tickle her toes while she coos and babbles?  Some mornings, when she’s especially easy-going, I find myself just shuffling her from room to room as I go about my own routine, propping her up in her chair in the bathroom while I blow-dry my hair, dropping her in her bouncer in the kitchen while I unload the dishwasher and make breakfast, putting her down on her playmat while I eat and check email.  Before I know it, it’s time for her first nap and I’ve entirely missed my morning window for snuggle sessions and playtime.

I threw out the sleep training guidelines the other day and let Juliette nap in my arms after she nursed.  As I laid my hand on her belly and gazed at her peaceful face, rosy-cheeked where she had been nuzzled in the crook of my arm, she grabbed my finger in her chubby little fist and gripped it tight as she slept.  It felt like she was asking me to stay awhile, reminding me that our quiet moments together are precious and so quickly fleeting.  And the time I spend with her, singing silly songs and smothering her with head-to-toe kisses, it matters.  It matters that I’m present for her.  It matters that she knows she’s more important than housework or blog posts or emails.  It matters that I daily speak words of affirmation and positivity over her.  And when she responds to my undivided attention with a happy giggle or an extra-close cuddle, it’s apparent how much those dirty dishes in the sink and those crumbs on the floor really don’t matter.

So I’m being more there for Juliette and she’s flashing me her winning smiles and I’m making good progress on this resolution, but I fear there’s another member of our family that’s a little short on lovin’.  Remember Shane, who used to stand front and center in my weekend updates and my travel posts, who used to by the object of all my gushing?  There was a time when I couldn’t wait to get home to him after a long day at work, to enjoy one of his extra-special bear hugs and dish on the day’s ups and downs.  Don’t get me wrong – I still can’t wait to see him in the evenings (my daily 5:00 “when r u coming home?” text message is evidence of that), but it’s usually so that I can toss the baby in his direction and enjoy a little space to myself, because I am beat.  I’ll take a breather and watch from the sidelines while the two of them play, then summon the last of my reserves for bathtime, bedtime, and dinnertime.  By 8:00, I am physically and emotionally zapped, wanting nothing more than to zone out in my own corner of the couch with my laptop or my knitting while Shane queues up House of Cards.  It’s hardly what you would call “quality time” for the two of us.  So I’m working on digging deeper, asking real questions rather than muttering an obligatory “How was your day?”.  I’m taking him up on his offer when he pushes himself against the back of the couch so that I can stretch out alongside him while we talk or read or watch Parenthood.  I’m reminding myself that although it takes effort, although it goes against my natural inclination to hole up and turn in, the restorative power of intimacy ultimately lands us in a much happier place.

These two have brought me such great, heaping boatloads of joy.  May I be a wife and mom that daily returns the favor.

Juliette hit the five month mark on Friday – these days I often catch myself looking at her and wondering what happened to the helpless newborn I cradled in my arms last fall.  Every day she’s a little heavier, her hair’s a little longer, she looks up at me with a new facial expression I haven’t seen before, and I keep falling for her over and over and over.  Those eyes!

Girl’s also got some serious legs.  She’s really into standing right now, with just a little assistance from me or Shane.  Her head wobbles a little as she struggles to find her balance, and then she stabilizes and smiles her big “look at me!” smile.

Agh!  That chub!  My love for her squishy thighs knows no bounds.

Her abs are pretty impressive as well – she’s constantly trying to pull herself up into a sitting position, like some form of baby pilates.  She does these in her crib in the morning and keeps it up all day long.  I should join her and work on my post-pregnancy tummy, but just watching her makes me tired.

She sucks and slobbers on just about anything within arm’s reach, but her chew toy of choice (other than her dad’s pinky finger) is that silly Sophie the Giraffe that I initially thought was so over-played and over-priced.  Each of Sophie’s four legs, her face, her ears, her neck – they’ve all fallen prey to Juliette’s toothless chomp.  And when Jules starts to tire from all the sucking, she holds Sophie close and they grab a few Z’s together.

I’m using pigtails more and more to tame her unruly hair – she’s pretty irresistible with those two sweet little tufts of reddish-brown crowning her head.  Plus, post-pigtails hair is kind of awesome!

She’s using her voice a lot more, expressing joy and anger and boredom with a series of ahhhs and ohhhs and a very wet ppppffff.  This squealy little cough is her funny attempt at laughter – she’s workin’ on it!

Gracious, this girl adores her daddy.  One of the best parts of my day is watching them both light up when Shane gets home from work in the evening.  He excitedly yells “Baby!” and reaches for her as she beams in response, so eager to be in his arms.  They’re a match made in heaven, those two.

More and more, Juliette is showing interest in her little buddies.  Our Tuesday get-togethers with my mama’s group and our Wednesdays at the Beacon Hill story time have become the highlights of her week.  It’s extra-special to see her and baby Chen together – La Verne and I prayed and cried and hoped together for so long in our journey toward motherhood, and seeing N and J sitting side-by-side…well, it’s enough to start those tears flowing again.

Ok, I know there are an obscene amount of baby photos on this blog, but indulge me for just one more minute…

Happy 5 months, little Jules.  This mama thing just keeps getting better and better.

Shane and I usually use Valentine’s Day as a great excuse to treat ourselves to a fancy dinner, a night out on the town with wine and ultra-rich food and maybe even a bouquet of roses.  Last year I had to pass on the wine, as I was ten weeks pregnant.  This year we had to pass on the fancy meal altogether, as Juliette hasn’t yet learned the art of fine dining.  And at first I told myself I really didn’t care, that Valentine’s Day has become a silly Hallmark holiday anyway, but the truth is that I felt a little pang of disappointment when I realized that we were facing another day of the same old, same old, that I wouldn’t be getting all dressed up or having creme brulee for dessert.  The days of lingering over a two and a half hour meal feel so long gone.  Then again, parenthood has not necessarily relegated us to complete hermit-dom, so we were able to get a little creative, to make the most of the fact that Shane had the day off and celebrate a family-friendly v-day.

We started the morning at Benaroya Hall for the Symphony for Tots program – we were joined by Juliette’s little buddies and loved watching their wide-eyed wonder as the women on stage led them on a “musical safari”.

We stayed close to home that afternoon, lounging about and playing a rousing round of 90’s “name that tune” via Spotify while Jules nestled comfortably into papa’s lap.  First the symphony, then Ace of Base – this kid made great strides in her musical education yesterday!

We were joined by the Rust crew for dinner at Tutta Bella.  It was a far cry from a four-course French meal, but I welcomed the chance to take a break from cooking and catch up with friends.  G and Z (who isn’t pictured below, as he would rather hop in puddles than pose for a photo!) made us a couple of very sweet valentines, and when G asked Shane if we had valentines for them, Shane responded with a very convincing, “Oh no!  We left them at home!”.  G took him at his word, so Shane and I are doing a little crafting this morning to make up for his fib and will be making a special delivery to the Rust boys later today.

After we tucked Jules into bed last night, Shane and I cuddled up on the couch to watch a bit of the Olympics and a movie.  I asked him if he missed the romance, if he thought we had lost that lovin’ feeling.  It had been a fun day, but I couldn’t shake this longing for times past.  Memories of our life before kids flitted through my head as I yawned, looked at the clock, and realized it was only 8 pm.

“Remember the days when we could stay up late on a Friday night, knowing that we could sleep in until 10 am on Saturday if we wanted to?”  

“Remember when we ordered our first bottle of wine at that nice restaurant in Morro Bay on Valentines Day of 2003?”  

“Remember when we used to travel???”

(pause)

“Remember that time earlier tonight when Juliette giggled like crazy as I wiggled and sang?”

Lord knows I’m a sucker for champagne and chocolate and sleep-ins, but damn it if that silly girl doesn’t win every single time.

When Shane looked out the window on Saturday evening and exclaimed that it was snowing, I kept my enthusiasm to a minimum, as many of Seattle’s snowfalls don’t amount to much more than a bunch of dirty slush.  But those fluffy flakes fell faster and faster, and by the time we went to bed that night the neighborhood was blanketed in a thick coating of pristine, white snow, set against a dark purply-orange sky.

It was fun to wake up yesterday morning to a winter wonderland.  Despite the fact that there wasn’t anywhere we really had to be anyway, I was still swept up in that giddy sense of freedom that comes with a snow day.  When Juliette awoke, I brought her into our bed and the three of us snuggled together in our warm nest of blankets and looked through the window at the bright white world, reveling in the promise of a lazy day at home.  If ever there was a day when it would be acceptable for me to stay in my pajamas until 2 pm and drink copious amounts of tea and coffee and hot chocolate, this would be the day.  A day dedicated to a whole lot of glorious nothing.  But then Juliette needed her diaper changed and then Shane decided he wanted to go outside and my hopes of spending the morning in bed were shot to hell.  Those ten minutes of quiet hibernation were nice while they lasted…

And so I rallied, obliging Shane’s request that we go for a walk through the greenbelt across the street and grumbling just a little as I changed out of my flannel pj’s and bundled up the baby in her warmest duds.  Although I looked longingly at my french press on the counter and the twisted pile of blankets on the couch as I pulled on my boots, I’m going to concede that Shane was right in urging us outside.  It was beautiful out there.  Frosted trees and untrodden trails and a perfect stillness, save for the crunch of snow under our boots.  Juliette happily chattered as we walked, her face wide-eyed and rosy-cheeked.  It’s fun to think that next winter she’ll be toddling around, ready for snow angels and snowmen.

We spent the rest of the day snuggled up inside with books and blankets and mugs of hot tea.  Jules took a monster nap after lunch, which allowed Shane and I to snooze as well, so I kinda ended up getting my lazy wish after all.  Sunday afternoons are heretofore dedicated to family nap time (are you reading this, baby?).

I woke this morning to the sound of pouring rain; the only remnants of our snow day are a couple of small patches of slush and a half-loaf of the pumpkin bread I baked yesterday.  Maybe that’s part of the magic of these Seattle snowfalls – one day you’re walking through woods cloaked in white, and the next day, poof!  It’s gone, gone, gone…

Shane’s parents left yesterday after a week-long visit, and I must say, Miss Juliette is one lucky, well-loved little girl.  Yes, she greeted our visitors last Saturday with her signature lip-quiver (she’s in the thick of her “stranger danger” phase), but she warmed up to them within a day and spent part of the Superbowl contentedly nestled into Grandma’s lap.  It was pretty special to watch these three together, to hear Denny coo “Grandpa loves you” over and over, to see the joy on Pat’s face when her and Juliette locked eyes.  Obviously, Shane and I think our kid is the bee’s knees, but to be in the company of other people that think every little smile, every silly babble, even every spit-spraying sneeze is the sweetest thing ever?  Man, that feels good.  One of my greatest hopes for our daughter is that she’ll always feel treasured and beautiful and unique, and seeing her with Shane’s parents is like watching my wish come true.

Although much of the week was spent cozied up indoors, doting on the baby during her waking hours and waiting for her to get up during her sleeping hours, we did manage a few brief outings to our favorite Seattle spots:

A jaunt around Jefferson Park to soak in some of that freezing cold sunshine…

A walk along the waterfront, and then a seafood feast at the Crab Pot (crab legs and mussels and prawns, oh my!)…

Storytime at the Beacon Hill Library with dad, grandma, and that hilarious duck puppet…

Breakfast at Both Ways to grub on perfect buttermilk biscuits…

And a short stroll along Alki Beach yesterday, which had even the Minnesotans shivering in their boots!  We took refuge from the cold in a nearby Starbucks, and hot coffee has never tasted so good…

Shane took his parents to the airport last night for their red-eye flight, and I found myself crying a little while watching Denny and Pat give Juliette a round of tearful good-bye hugs.  Those Schnells sure are a generous, tender bunch.  Thank you, Grandma and Grandpa, for loving the heck out of our little girl.

I went into my office last week to start discussing the terms of my return to work in March.  Our preferred daycare has confirmed that they have an opening for Juliette, and our deposit is due on Friday.  Gaaaaahhhhh!  Where did my maternity leave go?  Is it really ending so soon? The past few months have flown by.  But in that funny trick that time often plays, it also feels like a lifetime ago that my days revolved around work rather than baby.

The question over when (or if) to return to my job has been a tough one.  When we decided last year that a March start date seemed right, Juliette was still just a fuzzy little blob on an ultrasound screen.  Now she’s here and she’s beautiful and fun and knocking-my-socks-off sweet. And she’s still so small, so reliant on me.  I know, many women don’t get anywhere close to six months of leave and I’m so, so thankful that our savings and Shane’s job have given me the opportunity to take this extended time off.  Yet…I want more.  More time with my baby girl.  More morning snuggles and afternoon walks.  More play dates with my mom friends and their little ones.  More goofy, toothless smiles.  Oh, that girl has some wickedly powerful smiles – those smiles had me wondering if it was time to put an indefinite hold on my career.

But damn, it’s complicated, because I’m fickle and non-committal and maybe a little greedy.  Because while I’m loving this time at home, I also want to keep my professional momentum going.  I want to utilize my skills as a designer and experience the sense of accomplishment that comes with a problem solved or a deadline met.  And I know this is pride talking, but I still want to call myself an architect and I still want to bring home a paycheck.

More than anything, I want to do what’s best for Juliette.  Initially I thought nothing could be better for her than unlimited access to mama; I love her like no one else can, I’m her sole source of nourishment, I know which books are her favorites and which songs she likes best before naptime.  But is there more out there for her?  What if she ends up loving the chance to spend some of her days with other babies at daycare, with other grown-ups who will surely come to adore her?  What if a little space from her dad and me allows her to be more confident, more secure, more adaptable?  And long-term, how can I best encourage and motivate her to pursue her dreams?  I received a magazine in the mail last week from a contractor I’ve worked with for several years, and as I flipped through it with Juliette on my lap, we came to a spread on a project I worked on recently.  I pointed to the glossy photos of the shiny new building and exclaimed, “Look, baby!  Look what Mommy made!”, as if I was expecting her to pat me on the back for a job well done.  Clearly, it will be awhile before she’s able to appreciate the merits of sustainable architecture, but someday I hope she’ll be inspired by the fact that her mom has worked very hard to create beautiful buildings in this city that we love.

Am I over-rationalizing, trying too hard to convince myself that my return to work is what’s best for our family?  Probably.  I’m an excellent rationalizer.  But I’m also a pretty good architect, so I’m going to be spending three days a week in the office while Juliette thrives (fingers crossed) in her new daycare environment.  We’ll ride the train in together in the mornings and I’ll go visit her at lunchtime, as she’ll be just a couple of blocks away from me.  And then I’ll go pick her up at the end of the day, and she’ll smile at me as I scoop her into my arms and my heart will just about break with how good it will feel to hold her.  Because I’ll still be mama to this little goofball above all else.

I knew that having a baby would change our sleep habits.  I knew I wouldn’t be staying in bed until 9:00 on Saturday mornings.  And my 2-hour Sunday afternoon snoozes?  Sayonara to those.  But I wasn’t prepared for how completely consumed I would become by sleep.  I didn’t know about the anxiety that comes with going to bed at night and not knowing if I’d be woken up in thirty minutes or five hours.  I didn’t know how quickly my day would come to revolve around naptime, how intensely my mood (and the baby’s mood, more importantly) would be affected by how much she slept.  I shared in her four-month update that I wasn’t loving the whole go-to-sleep song and dance.  I was so tired of the bouncing, so tired of the too-short naps, so tired of feeling like I was spending just as much time trying to get her to sleep as she was actually sleeping.  And so we decided it was time for…dum dum dum dum…sleep training.

There are few issues more hotly debated in the parenting community than the question of how to teach your baby to sleep well.  There are the fervent no-cryers, the cry-it-out evangelists, the co-sleepers and anti-co-sleepers, and the scores of moms and dads that are simply exhausted and overwhelmed.  After reading a couple of books, talking with several of our parent friends and consulting our doctor, we decided on the method outlined in The Sleepeasy Solution – establish a quiet, calming pre-bedtime routine, put the baby in her crib while she’s awake, and let her cry, checking in every five to ten minutes to verbally soothe her as needed.  We settled on Saturday night as our sleep training kick-off and I wrote out our plan, reviewing it with Shane in great detail.  And then, as Saturday drew closer, I started to falter.  I flipped back through The No-Cry Sleep Solution, in which Pantley states that, “To allow a baby to suffer through pain and fear until she resigns herself to sleep is heartless, and, for me, unthinkable.”  Yikes.  I started researching the pick-up/put-down method, in which you pick your baby up to soothe her if she’s crying and put her back in her crib once she’s calm, repeating the process until she drifts off to sleep, going dozens of rounds if necessary.  I got lost in the tangled web of online sleep training forums, seeking advice and encouragement but finding more judgement than anything else.  I waffled and wavered and finally ended up reverting back to our original plan, believing it was the best option for Jules and for us.

At 7:00, we carried Juliette up to her room, zipped her into her sleepsack (good-bye, swaddle blanket!), and I rocked her and read to her, all the while crying my eyes out.  I turned on her white noise machine and laid her gently in her crib and kissed her little forehead, explaining to her through my tears that it was time for her to learn how to put herself to sleep, that mama couldn’t bounce her anymore.  She looked at me with her eyebrows raised, probably more perplexed by my meltdown than she was by the change in routine.  And then Shane and I went downstairs, turned on the baby monitor, and waited, sitting on the edge of the couch as if we’d need to spring into action at any moment.  Juliette started crying after a minute or two, clearly wondering why she was being asked to go to sleep without someone’s arms wrapped tight around her.  Shane went up five minutes later and leaned into her crib to tell her that we love her and assure her we weren’t far away.  Ten minutes after that, she was still wailing and Shane was telling me that he would take over all the put-downs and night wakings from now on, that he would do anything to be allowed to just go pick her up.  I asked him to give her just a little longer, and then, just a minute later, she stopped.  She sucked her fingers a bit, she rolled her head from side to side, and then, she slept.  Praise Jesus, she slept!  It took eighteen minutes of crying, but she figured it out.  She woke and fussed a couple of times throughout the night, and I got up around 2 am to feed her, but she’s a fast learner, that Juliette.  Naptime went great on Sunday, as she went down each time with no more than a few minutes of whining, and that night she fell asleep five minutes after we put her in her crib!  We’re still working on stretching out the length of her naps, and I still get a pang of anxiety each time I say goodnight, but it seems that we’re on the right track.

Our sleep training success doesn’t change the fact that walking out of her room on Saturday night was one of the toughest moments I’ve experienced as a mom.  Partly because I didn’t want my baby to feel confused or lonely, but also because I felt like I was saying good-bye to the newborn that would crash out on my chest after each nursing session.  Juliette is growing up so fast, becoming more independent with each new milestone.  And while these changes are wonderful and freeing, and while I’m pretty stoked about deflating that exercise ball, I still look back on those first months with our needy little girl with plenty of fondness.  So I’ll be sneaking into her room for a couple of extra kisses when I head to bed in a bit.  Sweet, sweet dreams, baby…

Four months!  Baby girl is gettin’ big, tipping the scales at just over 15 pounds, nearly busting the waistbands of her 6-month leggings.  Parenthood continues to be a roller coaster – during the wee hours of Saturday morning, when Jules had been up for two hours while we desperately bounced/shushed/nursed/pleaded, Shane was vowing we would not be having any more children; the next night she was back on track with only one short wake-up and I was lovingly stroking her silky-soft hair as I laid her back in her crib.  She certainly keeps us on our toes, but there’s no shortage of stuff to love about Miss Juliette:

She’s getting better and better at entertaining herself when we need a break, and she’s more and more fun during our play sessions.  Favorite activities include reading (she digs that Very Hungry Caterpillar), grabbing my hair while I blow raspberry kisses on her belly (ouch!), and putting her mouth on anything and everything (check out the latch she has on that giraffe’s leg!).

She’s still teasing us from time to time with her mini-giggles, hovering on the verge of a full-out laugh.  She had a diaper blow-out of epic proportions last weekend, and as Shane peeled off her poopy pajamas, I filmed her slightly distressed chuckle.  Can’t really tell if she wants to laugh or cry here, but either way, it’s pretty cute.

I know, I’m slightly biased, but isn’t she pretty?  I assumed her gray-blue eyes were just part of her newborn coloring and that they would eventually turn a shade of greenish-brown to match her mom’s and dad’s.  But they remain a lovely deep blue, set against her perfect fair skin.

I obviously hate seeing her cry, but I’ll admit that I kind of love her pre-tears lip quiver.  We were goofing around last week, snapping photos, when my high-pitched coo struck a sensitive chord and she looked at me with her sweet, tragic little pout – I know, not nice to photograph a sad baby, but she was really workin’ it and I couldn’t resist.  And rest assured, I quickly turned that frown upside down with a big, loud smooch, placed smack-dab on each of those chubby cheeks.

Her hair is getting long and swoopy and increasingly unruly, so yesterday she sported her first pigtails.  Shane thinks I should just let her wispy hair do its thing, but hey, she patiently hangs out in her chair each morning while I go through my blow-dry and flat-iron regime, so I feel like it’s only fair that she get some stylin’ time.

Bummmmmbo!  Her head control seems to get better day by day and she loves sitting up (with help).  It’s so nice to be able to hold her with one arm without worrying that her head will roll off!

She still loves her bathtime, with the new addition of sitting in front of the mirror while she gets her hair combed.  I suppose she’s admiring her girlish figure (those rolls!).

She’s pretty great, right?!  But, if I’m going to make this a true snapshot in time, it’s not all giggles and pigtails.  She continues to have some belly issues and spits up a lot, generating a mountain of dirty laundry that seems endless.  This also means she often smells like day-old mac and cheese as milk crust lodges itself in the folds of her neck (thank goodness she likes baths!).  Napping is another struggle, as she won’t stay down for more than 40 minutes at a time these days.  I can usually get her back to sleep after that first stretch, but it requires quite a bit of effort (gah!  the incessant bouncing!), and that effort is taking a toll on my back.  I decided on Monday that we were done with the exercise ball, that she would just have to get over it, but after 30 minutes of her screaming while I rocked her in our comfy glider, she won and I was back on the ball.  I swear she was smirking as she drifted off to sleep.  She’s cute, but dang, she’s stubborn.

Anyhow, happy four months, little one.  Milk crust and marathon bounce sessions aside, I really, really love this wild ride we’re on.

Rather than host our annual New Year’s Eve bash, we rang in 2014 with takeout pizza and our latest Netflix rental.  Ok, so technically I rang in 2014 with a bunch of Z’s, as I had already been in bed for an hour when the clock struck midnight.  I wished Juliette a slightly belated Happy New Year at 3 am when she awoke to eat, and then muttered the same to Shane when I slipped back into bed.  No champagne toasts, no fireworks, no Carson Daly…I missed the fanfare a little bit this year, but our quiet nights at home hold their own kind of charm.

We brunched with the gang yesterday to kick off the year, gathering at Jason and Nancy’s for buttermilk waffles and a walk around the park.  So I guess we party at 10 am now, instead of 10 pm.  No shame in that!

We spent the rest of the afternoon at home, playing with Juliette and then dozing during her afternoon nap.  Jules has teased us with a couple of brief giggles lately and seems to be on the verge of all-out laugher, so we’re constantly making fools of ourselves in front of her, trying to elicit a chuckle.  Despite all our dancing and blubbering and raspberry kisses, she held out yesterday, but her smiles were a pretty great consolation prize.  And Shane and I certainly do plenty of laughing at each other in the process, so there’s that.

The year is off to such a joyous, cozy start.  And yet, there’s a part of me that’s a little melancholy.  2013 was so, so spectacular – will it ever be topped?  I mean, there was this:

And this:

And this:

And this:

And this:

And this:

And this:

And this, New Years Day 2013, when we toasted to the good news I’d just received from the doctor’s office: lil’ Schnell was on her way!

I’m sure 2014 will hold adventures of a different sort.  I don’t foresee any helicopter rides over Kauai, and camping might be tricky, but there will be excitement in watching our baby grow, there will be precious time with family and friends, maybe a mini-getaway or two.  And there will be laughter.  Lots and lots of silly, unbridled laughter.  Happy, happy new year!

I’m having a hard time believing that Christmas has come and gone – I’m resisting Shane’s request that we take down the tree and I still have the Charlie Brown Christmas album on repeat.  I’m so thankful for the time with family and friends, for the special holiday moments we shared with Juliette.

We headed down to Portland on Saturday, just in time to wish Morgan a happy third birthday.  This sweet girl was a little overwhelmed by all the attention lavished upon her – she bashfully smiled as we belted out “Happy Birthday”, not entirely sure what to make of the singing and the candles and the cameras.

But all sense of reserve was lost once she was told she could dig into her cupcake!  Was it really just three years ago that I was holding a newborn Morgan in my arms?  She’s such a strong-willed, fun-loving little person now.

Since my parents, Shane and I would be heading home on Christmas Eve, we opened gifts on Sunday morning.  Morgan and Elise excitedly tore into their pile of presents, while Juliette needed a little help from dad.  The sound of wrapping paper being torn was her favorite part of the whole ordeal – next year, I’m giving her a bunch of wrapped empty boxes!

Shane, on the other hand, understands the joy of a perfect gift – check out that whiskey grin!

The rest of Sunday was wonderfully low-key – we ate, we painted, we played Candyland, we napped, and as the day drew to a close, we cracked open Shane’s Christmas gift.

We set out for Alberta Street on Monday to show Jules one of our favorite Portland neighborhoods.  First stop: coffee at Barista!

Kathryn bought Mitch a ukelele from his favorite music store for Christmas, and Shane gave it a little test drive out on the sidewalk, serenading Juliette as she dozed in her stroller.

Shane, Kathryn, and I grabbed delicious Indian food from Bollywood Theatre for lunch.  Morgan and Elise were not so interested in samosas or dal or pork vindaloo, but they were quick to take us up on an offer of ice cream from Salt and Straw next door.

We capped off the day with a special pizza dinner to celebrate my mom and dad’s 43rd (!) wedding anniversary.  I loved being in a house full of family, crowding around the table at mealtimes, watching Morgan and Elise dote on their new cousin.  There were times when the hub-bub was loud and crazy and tiring (you can see below that it tuckered Jules out), but the hub-bub was also full of joy and great care for one another.  There was never any shortage of volunteers to hold the baby or clean up the kitchen or read a book to the kids.

My parents left early the next morning for La Pine, and Shane, Jules, and I strategically hit the road at morning naptime.  But first, the requisite photo of cousins on the couch:

Christmas day was quiet – we lounged around in our PJs, did some cooking, and opened our gifts from Shane’s family.  Jules can’t believe how well she made out:

It seems impossible that a year ago, this little girl was the size of a poppyseed, making a home for herself in my belly unbeknownst to Shane and I.  Best gift ever.

The Rust clan flew in from their week in Colorado on Christmas afternoon, so Shane, Juliette, and I headed over to their place that evening, bearing ham and mashed potatoes and apple pie.  It was a treat to share Christmas dinner with our Seattle family, to be back in the midst of hub-bub after such a mellow day at home.

And with that, a holly, jolly Christmas 2013 is in the books!