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“A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2015.”

Sunny: Age 6
Kaki: Age 4

More details about The 52 Project here. To view all the portraits in the series visit here.

Frozen Fever

Courtland’s big birthday present was her very own Elsa costume. She’s been asking for one for months, even though we have this one in our costume trunk. Courtland very much sees that as Sunny’s Elsa costume, and she was set on having one of her very own.

So, I once again worked with the talented Richelle of Ella Dynae to have a Frozen Fever inspired Elsa costume created for our four year old. It was a huge success – and as always, is ridiculously gorgeous and ridiculously well made. Another heirloom piece for the ages. What a dream!

Frozen Fever Elsa Costume by Ella Dynae. For purchase on Etsy.

Our Drama Queen

Courtland in action, wearing her new Elsa costume (“Frozen Fever” edition). Her key or pitch or *insert music lingo* could use some serious work, but she’s got heart.

Notice when she dramatically picks up a picture frame with Ursa’s photograph in it and sings, “I loved her when she was little… She died.”

Endless entertainment ’round here.

Month 48

My darling Courtland Whaley,

Ask any parent, and they’ll tell you that age three is rough. Terrible Twos ain’t got nothing on the Terrible Threes. It’s just that “Terrible Threes” doesn’t have quite the same alliterative ring to it as the year prior, and so one goes along blissfully thinking that if they survive Year Two, they’re in the clear. But oh parenthood, how you do love a curve ball.

Daddy and I were prepared. We knew three was a challenge. Sunny had showed us as much. Our eyes were wide open.

And while yes, three has dealt us tantrums and defiance and attitude and sleep-strikes, that has all been pretty par for the course with you since the day you were born. We’ve been managing these challenges for the past 48 months. And boy, Three went out with a bang, as yesterday you refused to sleep most of the night and then resisted nap with a resolve reserved for trained military operatives. It’s actually quite impressive, outrageously frustrating, but impressive nonetheless. I wish I required as little sleep as you.

But I digress…

What we hadn’t predicted from these past 12 months was the wonderful, magical, heart-bending amazingness of what three would bring into our lives. As you got a stronger grasp of the English language, and learned how to better communicate with wild hand gestures and determination when language failed you (or your parents failed to understand your endearing, albeit absolutely convoluted pronunciation of words), the challenges became less extreme. We began to truly understand one another, and the entertaining, hilarious, story-teller inside you was really let loose.

The majority of your day is spent engrossed in song and corresponding performative gestures. This is what is most distinctive and memorable from this past year. You are our performer. While you enjoy singing songs you know (Nursery Rhymes, T. Swift, Darlingside), you positively delight in narrating the events and actions of your day through made-up, on-the-fly song writing. You sing about your food, about not wanting to go to bed, about the sky, about going potty, about your family, about the most mundane and yet the most universal of moments. It’s all part of your story-telling. You love to tell stories and do so with great enthusiasm and expression. We are all positively engrossed when you reenact a favorite moment at preschool or a traumatic tale from an encounter with a splinter. You dance as well to communicate your feelings. And so we started ballet this summer and you took to it like a duck to water. You are clearly meant for the stage. And we’ll always be your biggest fans.

Your life is a musical, my love, and I feel so fortunate to be both audience member and actor in its staging. (This moment between us earlier this week is just one of many examples of your brilliance).

You have taught me to approach life with bravery and clarity, sensitivity and joy. May you always do the same.

The happiest of 4th Birthdays to you.

143 Mama

(Photos from her final day as a 3-year old that capture the essence of this past year)

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“A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2015.”

Sunny: She fell in love with a Shih Tzu named Gus this weekend. She is proving to not only be the Chick Whisperer, but the Dog Whisperer, Jr. as well.
Kaki: Her final day as a three year old. Complete with very little sleep, epic tantrums, nap-fighting, and so much fun and song and giggles. A day of contradiction, just like her.

More details about The 52 Project here. To view all the portraits in the series visit here.

My Mirror

This morning before work, I was standing in the bathroom obsessing about my pimple-ridden face and glaring roots, when Courtland came around the corner and stopped in her tracks.

She cooed enthusiastically, “Mama! You are perfect!”

“Thanks, love, but why do you say that,” as I continued to fixate on the red bumps along my chin.

“Because you’re fancy, and beautiful, and I love you. Let me take your picture and show you.”

She proceeded to haul me into the room where I frequently snap her photo and demand my phone. I pulled down my sunglasses to hide the bags under my eyes from a night of restless sleep and she quickly insisted that I put them on top of my head.

“I want to see your eyes!”

She took this picture. And I caught a glimpse of what she sees. She doesn’t see acne or hamburger eyes or messy hair. She sees a woman who loves her beyond measure. A woman who loves her for seeing beyond the flaws and reminding her to do the same.

We could all use a Courtland mirror.

I hope she saves that same lens for herself. And if not, I’ll be her mirror.

#youarebeautiful #andothercheesybuttruebodyloverealness

Davina

Meet Davina. Sweet baby girl to one of my dearest college friends and Fairy Godmother to Sunny. James and I spent three whole days delighting in her newborn smell and squishy wonderfulness. To see James melt into a puddle of coos and snuggles was such a nostalgic reminder of how he was with our girls. He adores children, no matter the age. And to see him with a newborn is particularly heartwarming. We were more than happy to curl up on the couch and soak in the snug life while letting our friends get some rest. We pitched in where we could, but mostly revealed in the opportunity to be a part of their lives during this momentously precious time.

How easy it is to fall in love with such delicious newness.

Chicago // 2015

James and I spent a rare five days sans children this past week. We journeyed to Chicago, James’ inaugural trip, for a friends’ wedding at the Field Museum (think: partying with a T Rex named Sue). Lots of exploring and walking and lounging and going and doing whatever we pleased, whenever we pleased. A rare occurrence in our daily lives as parents. And man, Chicago sure is a great city. It was a lovely trip indeed.

Then we ventured a little further east to Ann Arbor, Michigan where we spent our days snuggling a newborn and spending time with friends during that special and unique period of life when one’s family is in transition and life is so demanding and in upheaval and yet so blissfully simple and precious. More photos from that experience soon.

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