can anyone lend me a baby?

in a few weeks, my oldest will turn 14. and my youngest will turn 3.
three.
i’ve come to terms with the 14…she’s growing, she’s a teenager. i have accepted that i am the mother of a teenager, and in a short while i will be the mother of many teenagers.

what i’m having a bit more trouble coming to terms with is that i’m no longer the mother of babies.

elliot, january 2012

this is no secret, i’ve talked about my troubles leaving this phase of life before. but now…it’s here. for someone who’s gone through the last 14+ years feeling like there would be no end to the “baby phase”, this is rather…off-putting.

gigi, june 2010

it’s a mental and emotional change—rewiring our parenting minds from things like sleep and potty training to, well…big kid stuff.
it’s a physical change—less stuff to lug, less people to carry, less physical effort in general involved.
and i’m finding that it’s also a literal change to our home.  i’m giving away/throwing away/donating actual physical THINGS that say “there’s a baby in this house!”

elliot

hooded ducky towels that don’t even cover the wet bottoms anymore, let alone wrap an entire body.

random tiny socks, smaller than my hand, lost and stuck in hidden corners

the last nursing bra shoved in the back of my drawer

one last partially used package of diapers

sippy cups (with their stupid stupid perpetually lost valves)

touch and feel books…i love those fuzzy lion manes and sticky frog feet more than my babies i think

and every time i load the dishwasher and make the choice to throw away that one random baby spoon somebody found in the back of the drawer and used for cereal because all the other spoons were dirty…it hurts.

elliot, summer 2012

it’s not the thing that hurts—the actual item going into the trash.if anything there’s almost a sense of relief associated with that—getting rid of clutter is one of my favorite pasttimes. no…it’s the loss of the “there’s a baby in this house!”, and then all the other things that that means i’m losing…

soft and slightly sour milk breath

gummy smiles

open mouth slobber kisses

chest to chest naps

milk drunk babies nursing the air

those first drunken wobbly steps

dimples on chubby knuckles, and wrists, and feet and…everywhere.

that squishy crinkly sound it makes when they walk with a diaper on

our house has no more pairs of those Sweet Pea bag-style jammies…i always loved them for easy nighttime diaper changes. and painfully, our house has no more baby talk. elliot has been an amazing talker from the get-go, but in the past few weeks she’s just taken off. words are pronouced correctly—not in that garbled way that’s music to a momma’s ears.

elliot, october 2012

words have become sentences and they in turn have become entire paragraphs and stories. she just said to me “these are my favorite shoes. i love them. i can put them on. but i need you to buckle them.”

those first giant steps

i know i could bookend this post with thoughts on all the fun yet to come. the new things we can do since we don’t have babies dragging us down anymore (ha!). but that’s not where i am this rainy morning. right now i just finished folding a load of towels, and obstinately put those last faded, torn hooded towels back in the clean basket. i’ll go kicking and screaming.

the best i can right now is maybe think of some things i won’t miss.

baby proofing (who am i kidding…i barely did any…)

passing clothes on, instead of packing them away for little siblings (ugh, that takes FOR-EH-VER)

giant pieces of baby “equipment” in every corner of the house (jumper, exersaucer, swing, car seat, crib…it goes on and on…)

annnd that’s about it.

i suppose i could say things like “oh i can sleep through the night”, but that was never a huge deal to me. right now i’m wearing those rose-colored glasses which are the root cause of things like “second babies”. 

in a way i hope i never lose this longing for babies. i’m thinking maybe i’ll be the awesomest grandmother ever? i think so. i just have to bide my time in this space of babyless-ness. where i do things like sleep. and cruise. yeah, i think i’ll be okay.

course correction.

i don’t set resolutions based on new year’s. i feel like i’m a person in a constant state of flux—the best time to begin something new or make a change is immediately after thinking it over and making the decision in your head. DO IT. right now.
i guess on it’s face that can translate out as slightly ADD tendencies: i think of something, i mull it over, i start. sometimes that process takes minutes, sometimes days.
but i’m easily bored and—these days—extremely forgetful, so if i don’t get going immediately chances are it won’t happen.

what was i talking about?

oh. so i had a big thought, and i’m acting on it. thing is, i haven’t been feeling like the greatest momma lately. life, tired, stressed, sicknesses, sewing, cooking, cleaning, blogging, working…blah blah blah. bottom line it: too much, and my babies were getting the short end of the stick.

they were getting meals, and baths, and clean laundry. they weren’t getting tickles, and songs, and silly faces. they didn’t have mommy just sitting on the couch sans phone/project taking up the place in my lap where they should be. there was a lack of tower building, game playing, picture drawing. too much time in front of the tv. too much.

every evening i crawled into my bed—i need “me” time, even if that trite phrase isn’t how i put it in my head. i didn’t want to be mommy anymore—no more questions, no more Solomon like decision making, no more barking out orders. my kids were left to their own devices so i could clear my head with some crocheting and telephonernetting.

there’s nothing wrong with that—every mommy needs her time and space. it makes for a better mommy. but i was becoming a selfish mommy. i did the things i HAD to do. the things that keep our family alive and relatively functional, meanwhile retreating further and further away from being a Momma who’s there and present and engaged. i realized i was not even LOOKING at my children. conversations were happening while my eyes and 50% of my attention was focused elsewhere. that is huge, because looking someone in the eye is a mark of respect as far as i’m concerned. and as much as they need to respect me as a parent, i need to respect them as people. i was failing miserably.

i was mothering just enough to begin to hate mothering. i’m doing all the grunt work, without taking the time to enjoy all the rewarding stuff. it was twisted up in my brain—do the hard stuff and my reward was alone time, instead of my reward being pleasant times with my children.

and it shows in them, too. picking at each other, fighting…a general feeling of annoyance in our home. it was me thinking about all that—how we got to this place where there was shouting and fighting so much when they used to get along and cooperate so well—that brought me to my senses. the fact is they’re confused. with so much time spent parenting themselves and each other the lines between sibling relationships were become blurred and lost. everyone has their place in the home, and i was neglecting mine, leaving a large hole that my children kept tripping in.

i’m not perfect. obviously. but i’ve been thinking—hard—about what is happening in my life and my home and my family right now. i feel like there is a giant clock ticking over my shoulder. i suppose it’s along the lines of a woman’s biological clock—once the children have come it starts counting down the hours and days you have to perfect this parenting gig.

tick tick tick you have a 13 year old daughter. have you taught her the important things about womanhood that she needs to know? are you giving her  a good self-image? is she learning the life skills she’ll need to thrive? does she have a relationship with her father that’s strong enough to keep her from seeking out the creepy boys and men that prey on girls with daddy issues?

tick tock tick tock you have an 11 year old son. have you built up your relationship with him to a good enough place that you’re ready to face the coming trials of tween/teen-agehood? is he learning the skills and lessons to become a good man, husband, father someday? is he learning from you the right way to treat women, to eat dinner (not like a cow), to hold the door open for people?

tick tick tick you have a 9 year old daughter. she is the middle child and feels her divided place strongly. sometimes she’s grouped with the older siblings, sometimes with the younger. she needs more attention, more understanding, more patience. are you doing that? or are you pushing her away because she’s clingy and you’re crushing candy? how much will you regret that decision when she’s 15 and doesn’t want to talk to you anymore?

tick tock tick tock you have a five year old daughter. she’s spunky and friendly and if there’s anyone who will run off with a stranger to help them find their puppy it’s HER. have you taught her enough? she’s going to kindergarten in 8 months and wants to learn so badly. you promised to do “home preschool” with her and the supplies have sat unused for months. why?

tick tick tick you have a 2 year old daughter. this morning you sang twinkle twinkle with her in bed and couldn’t remember the last time you did that. or read a book together. she sang her ABC’s to you and you knew you weren’t the one responsible for teaching her that. she’s asking where “ava-mommy” is. did you color together today?

my clock is ticking—loudly and harshly. fortunately it’s also an alarm clock. i’ve pushed snooze one too many times and it’s time for me to wake up. i get one shot at this parenting thing, and i’m not going to do it perfectly, but i can certainly do better than i am now.

so i’ve been absent from here. no blogging, no blog reading, no less hours spent wasted on googling such vital things as “subway tile with gray grout images”. i’ve put down my phone and done less instagraming, less texting, less stupid stupid game playing. i’m trying to find a new balance—one that let’s me do the grunt work, enjoy the rewarding children time, and still have the husband and wife time and the just shannon time. dude. that’s not an easy task.

so please excuse the dust while my life is under renovation.

time flies when you’re having fun.

last week i fell victim to what i affectionately call A Sewing ADD Day.

meaning, in a short while i sewed a dozen HST for my quilt, gave that up and made covers for 4 of my living room pillows…errr, make that 3. i never finished the 4th, because then i gave that up and made a dress for elliot.

by the time i got to the dress i managed to get myself slightly under control—and by that i mean i forced myself to finish the dang thing, so i would have accomplished at least ONE thing in total for the day. it’s the little things, right?

but in my defense—this dress has been in the pinboard of my mind for quite a while now. the fabric in my stash, the idea pinned and the truth is i’m going through a bit of a…”thing” right now.

here, let’s talk. (pats seat beside me) i need a good sharing sesh, k?

see, elliot is our last baby. she is two now, on the cusp of full-blown toddlerhood: weaned, potty-trained, speaking in sentences. you get the drift. and i find myself kicking and screaming and clawing at the last vestiges of babyhood.
picture the wile e. coyote hanging on the edge of the cliff, with the road runner pecking at his fingers.
in this metaphor i’m wile e., the cliff = babies, stupid road runner = time.

i’ve always hated that road runner.

i’m not going down without a fight. i can’t. the thought that no new googiebaby will ever cross our threshhold makes my eyes tear, my heart hurt and my uterus ache.

nevermind that we simply can NOT have another—for reasons practical, emotional, physical, financial, spiritual, mental…it has nothing to do with that. i am a baby lover through and through, and no matter how i may love a niece or nephew or grandbaby it will never again be MY baby. (although i’ve been assured that grandbabies are simply awesome. we’ll see. i have a ways to go yet.)

in the meantime i embrace elliot’s remaining wisps of babyhood with a fervor. my manic brain has fixated, of all things, on clothes. i have pinned scores of adorable dresses and ideas, and—while many of them can easily work for older kiddos, a lot of them are for babies. or in my head i’ve pictured it on a baby. bubble rompers? this, my friends, is my last summer of bubble rompers.

hold on, i need a tissue. and maybe a stiff drink.

this rapidly concluding august is also marking the rapidly approaching conclusion of my time as the momma of a fat-bellied knock-kneed chubby-wristed little. and i’m having a bit of a hard time with that.

so you see why when my brain wanders whilst i sew and all these ugly thoughts start in my head, i quickly toss aside quilts and pillows in favor of faux smocking and short sundresses. in my head i’m running out of time! i never did this! or this! i wanted to make this! and crochet this! and sew this!

because, this:

this is one of them. the mock smock frock done by danielle of my sparkle has been in my head, destined to be paired with this 1/2 yard of blue and pink shirt weight plaid for over a year now. and in another couple of weeks both shirt weight and a 1/2 yard aren’t going to cut the mustard.

so it was now or never no time like the present make hay while the sun shines. and really, the dress was simple enough. i cut a big wide section of the fabric—just about 1 1/2 times 1/2 the circumference of her chest.
and while that all sounds good and technical, what it really means is that i took a piece of pom trim i had laying next to me from my recently abandoned pillow sewing, wrapped it around e’s chest where she lay on the couch and marked it with my fingers, then eyeballed half and stuck a pin in, held it to my fabric and went another half of that further for my length.

so…yeah. 1.5x 1/2 the circumference.

then i smocked. or mock smocked. for the actual instructions i’ll send you over to danielle’s tutorial. she’s got photos and everything.

i started roughly in the center and worked out on each side. i kept adding columns of smocking until the piece was just about the size of my Official Pom Trim Measuring Apparatus. add a shirred elastic thread back and a skirt using the rest of the fabric and it was done.

getting some decent pics, however…

elliot was game. she was getting candy to sit on the horse and say cheese? yeehaw. and then in that incredibly perverse way that only two year olds and women at certain times of the month have, she suddenly decided NO. meltdown of epic proportions.

seriously. with tears and snot and everything. and then it worked itself out and she climbed on the horse and had a skittle and all was right with the world.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

she even rode side saddle for a bit. fancy girl.

so where does that leave us?

well, first of all: i’m a little bit in love with this dress.
and i did spaghetti straps, which i’ve been doing a lot of lately because i was SOOO scurred of them and in awe of people who could do them, and then it turns out they’re not too hard. but we’ll talk about that later.

and yes, i fully realize that she could wear this dress at 3 or 4 or 8 or even 20 because it’s just THAT CUTE. but this was a baby dress in my head, so on my baby it shall be.

and my other issues? well, i had a stern talk with myself the other day. and i reminded myself of this: if i spend too much time worrying over how fast it’s going, or lamenting the babies i no longer have…well, i’m missing out on the awesome KIDS i do have.
i can’t cry over the past and neglect the present, right? there is so much FUN ahead of us. we have kids—with thoughts and opinions, who we can talk to! and they talk back! and say funny things and make us laugh! baby is just one part of it. and certainly not even the best part.

the baby times were fun. hard, yes, but fun. i’m going to miss them. always. i’ll never be the lady giving you dirty looks when your baby cries in a restaurant/airplane/otherwise awkward area. no…i’ll be the creepy lady eyeballing your baby a little too hard and saying things like “if you need to use the bathroom i’ll hold her for you. you can trust me, i have five of my own.”

for reals. you can. i just wouldn’t go too far if i were you. ;)

i do still wish i made that baby got bach shirt, though…

the handmade revolution

FAIR WARNING: long post and huge soapbox ahead. continue at your own risk.
this is not where this post was going to go when i made these dresses.



this is not where this post was going to go when i posted the photo on instagram.



this is not where this post was going to go when i took the photos of my girls wearing these dresses.



but somewhere along the line things changed. and this post became something completely different.
here’s the thing: these dresses were inspired by the dresses made by jessica at dreamcatcher baby. and i had all intentions of saying that in the original post—credit where it’s due.



i competed against jessica in sewvivor, and she did awesome. she was selling these adorable baby girl dresses and coordinating boy bowties at the time, and shortly after sewvivor ended her dresses got picked up and “pinned” by a big name blogger…and the rest was history. jessica’s business has virtually (literally and figuratively) exploded over the last few months. she’s got pre-orders, pre-sales, dresses that sell out as fast as her two little hands can make them (whilst juggling a husband, young son and newborn baby boy).
and rightly so: her dresses are impeccably made, and her fabric choices and pattern mixing is top notch. the bows on the fronts of the dresses always have the pattern perfectly centered—a little detail a fellow seamstress can appreciate. it speaks to an extra minute or two spent planning, rather than just churning these bad boys out as fast as she possibly can—chopping that fabric whichever way gets the most cuts out of each yard.

unfortunately, the supply/demand ratio and the popularity of her dresses make their price out of my reach.
fortunately, i sew.
so i made my own version of her adorable dresses for my littles. what i planned on doing was posting about them with a link to her shop for anyone interested.

no tutorial.

why not?

truth bomb: i’ve copied/been inspired by/whatever you want to call it etsy sellers in the past. sometimes i post the things i make-most times i don’t. there are many things i make that never see the light of blogging. they’re for my own personal enjoyment, and too close to someone’s hard won success in their little shop. i can’t justify telling someone else how to do these things, at the expense of another’s livelihood.


(image source)

but then that raises the question: where’s the line? when is it okay to say “hey i copied this from XYZ shop and here’s a tutorial to make your own” and when is it not? because isn’t that like…80% of what’s blogged?

in the blogging world it seems like a rather unspoken rule that that copy-and-paste type inspiration is okay if you’re taking from the big guys: the anthropologies, the pottery barns, the west elms. but not from the little guys: the etsy sellers, the big cartel sellers, the independent pattern makers.
i admit—this is kind of the line i follow to. but why is that okay? i’m not being smart—i genuinely want to know why and when this is okay. is it because we’re taking from a faceless “big corporation” vs. just one or two or three people working in the back bedroom of their suburban home?

and then the reverse comes in to play: the accusations of stores like urban outfitters ripping off the hard work and content of etsy sellers. (go ahead and google…there’s a ton of it out there).

when i see a must-have pillow at Big Store selling for $45 i think hey, i could do that in my home for $5 worth of supplies, and tell other people how to do it on my blog! when i see a cute or funny printable on etsy for $20+ i think hey, i could do that on photoshop in my bed and print it out and it’s costing me like 50 cents for paper and ink …and not show anyone.

again: stick it to the Big Stores, protect the little guy.

same with dream catcher baby’s dresses: i love them. but they are far out of my reach—especially for two (or three…or four…) of them. and here’s the part where i have drop another brutal truth bomb, knowing that jessica may well read this—they’re really very basic sundresses…empire waist, full skirt, bow on bodice. any home sewist with basic knowledge can make it on their own quickly and easily. my first dress from measurements to finished hem took just over an hour—while i did 10 other things in the meantime. and i did a similarly shaped dress last summer—same basic idea, just without the big bow on the front.

but that’s really beside the point, isn’t it?
the reality is ease of creation < how much people are willing to pay.

(image source)

the fact that i can make this dress myself cheaper than i can buy one from her basically has nothing to do with the dresses jessica is successfully selling. because as long as there are people out there willing to fork over the money for a Dream Catcher Baby original, then she’s fine.

but then…again i ask—where’s the line? if i post a tutorial showing how to make an easy high waisted, full skirted sundress, am i stealing from her? what if i add a bow to the front? what if i make the bow and dress two different fabrics? at what point am i “stealing” from her? and how much do i have to change to make it “mine”? and is it different if i open up my own etsy shop and sell something similar?

+

so what prompted all this? well, jessica had quite the blowup on her instagram account not long ago. the pictures have since been deleted—and i don’t blame her. a comment from one person along the lines of “i wish you weren’t so expensive and i wish i had money” spiraled out of control—people attacking her prices and people defending her work.

the one comment that really got to me was someone who said basically “i can make 2 or 3 of these dresses at home for the price she’s charging.”

i’ll admit it—when i saw what she’s getting for these dresses i almost choked. whoa!

but let’s stop and think about it for a second: yes. you or i can run out to the fabric store and buy the yard of fabric and fat quarter and (using a coupon OF COURSE) whip up one or two of these dresses for a mere what…$6? go crazy—buy designer—$12?

so we can sniff down our noses at the etsy sellers and their foolish customers and post comments like “bah. made it myself for 1/32nd of the price you fools are paying.”

but now…what if someone wants to pay you to make one for their daughter.

well now. suddenly you are spending your time picking just the right fabrics for her daughter. and sewing for her daughter. and pressing it and packaging it and mailing it. oh, wait. now you’re in it for $18 or $20 with shipping because boxes and pretty tissue paper don’t grow on trees…and you still didn’t charge anything for your time. cause you’re nice like that.

and now everyone LOVES your two dresses. and LOTS of people want them. yayyyy me! kermit arms all over! so now you’re buying bolts of fabric and storing them in your home, and your sewing machine and your serger are churning away for hours each day…oops—gotta get them serviced at $100 each—and you’re spending hours listing each dress on etsy and driving to the post office and communicating with Susie from Nebraska who wants this one for her sister’s wedding but can you make the bow a little bigger and can the fabric be a touch bluer and can i have it in 3 days? and then etsy takes a cut. and paypal

takes a cut. and uncle sam takes a cut.

how much is your time worth? because after you dish out for ALL of that, you still have yourself to pay. this isn’t charity. this isn’t dressing other people’s children out of the kindness of your heart.
ask yourself: what do i make at my job per hour? why should a seamstress’ time be worth any less?
sewing isn’t some magical art. this isn’t sleeping beauty, i don’t have a magic wand to conjure up dresses with. it’s real HARD, frustrating, tiring WORK. you get cramped hands from cutting, painful sewer’s back from leaning over your machine for hours, a tired brain from figuring and measuring and all.the.math.



if you can do it yourself—rock on with your bad self. i can, and i did. but if you can’t, and you’d like me to do it for you—THIS is how much it will cost. and if you don’t like that well then have a nice day no hard feelings.



if you want to scoff at a handmade dress because you can buy a dress at walmart for $8 then go ahead and go to walmart and buy your $8 dress. maybe you want to take a look at the non-monetary ‘cost’ of that dress before you get up on that high horse you’re riding, though.

because guess what—jessica can make 2 or 3 of these dresses FOR HERSELF very easily too. but if you want her to give up her free time—her time spent with her babies and man—her time spent watching dvr’d reruns and double fisting popcorn in her sweats on the couch—then THIS is how much it will cost you. and she shouldn’t have to apologize for that.

truth bomb #3: i’m as guilty as the next seamstress of under valuing myself. when people ask me to do work and offer to pay me i mentally tally up hours and then tell them a number…much less. and that’s why i find myself sewing for people late at night, hand stitching things for what amounts to $3 or $5 per hour. would you work for that? my husband just gave my sewing-freely-for-others-self the smackdown. no more, he said. at least for now. i’ve taken on too many things and stressed myself out over them too much lately.

alida makes wrote a post about this a few weeks ago. it’s a good read.

sooo…where do we go from here? i’m curious what your thoughts are on the matter. let’s talk.

disclaimer: if i’ve ever sewn for you…know that i did it happily and enjoyed doing it. i’m not talking about you, or us, in any of this. :)

the water house

do you get that fear, just before leaving for a well-anticipated vacation, that it’s not going to be what you hoped? that the weather will disappoint, the kids will bicker too much, the location will be a bust?

i’m sure i’m not the only one. and as we packed up to leave for our long weekend at the house in the woods i told jeremy how scared i was that this trip wasn’t going to be the relaxing, family-building excursion i had built up in my head.

boy was i wrong.

it was everything we hoped.

sure, the kids fought some. but not too much. and the dishwasher on the house broke and leaked all over the kitchen floor, but whatever. and harrison had four ticks on him, but we found them all.

the plus column just kept racking up more and more. so the minuses didn’t bother us quite so much.

the kids woke up every morning and headed outside. they spent the days exploring the stream—mostly in their underwear. that’s how secluded it was. their inner jungle babies awoke, and for four days it was the epitome of every childhood fantasy and children’s book ever written.

the house is set all by itself back in the woods. it was the cabin i had dreamed of finding—not a house in a Lakeside Community (rec center! pool! neighbors on both sides!) of which there are many in the pocono mountain area. this was steps from water—and ages from everyone else.

you know it’s gonna be good when this is your driveway.

no hipster-decor faux deer head  here. the real stuffed and furry deal hanging in our little cabin.

you park on one side of the stream then cross a footbridge to the other bank where the house is. no electronics was the rule—the ipods/pads/tablets/tvs all were banned, and even any cell phone usage was relegated to the far end of the footbridge—the only place you could really pick up much of a signal.

the stream itself was perfection. little “rapids” right under the bridge were like a constant song. the large calm area in front of us ranged from ankle deep to about 2’…just right for exploring with no fear.

they canoed and laughed and skipped rocks and laughed and fished and laughed.

by the end of the day we were hungry and tired—but the good kind of hungry and tired that comes from long days in the sunshine and fresh air. we hit the food store our first day, list in hand, and overpaid for 4 days worth of meals. gotta love little grocery stores in little towns. half pound of butter? that’ll be $5 thankyouverymuch. whatever.

i’m pretty sure she spent the better part of all four days like this—tossing rocks into the water.

we walked out the door and hiked. left or right—didn’t matter. the scenery was gorgeous in either direction. we were having An Adventure. an adventure in forest that almost looked like it was created by walt disney.

we did breakfast in jammies, lunch in panties, dinner in sweats out by the stream. roasting marshmallows, playing game after game of movie charades and 20 questions that had us all laughing hard.

dinner cooked over an open fire, s’mores until we were ready to burst, rock skipping contests until your arms were sore and your belly hurt from laughing.

“FWOG!”

i’m learning how much i’m enjoying older children—the kind that you can have a conversation with, and play games with—beyond candy land and memory.

elliot is not a fan of the group photo.

we learned elliot is a born boater. no fear, she sat still and content on the little canoe. “ma boat, mommy! ma boat!”

we learned guinevere has lots of her mother’s and opa’s genetics—and can spent hoouuuurrrrrs reading.

we learned ava is perfectly content to strip down to nothing and be free in the forest. “panties ON!” became our war cry. you’ve gotta draw the line somewhere, right?

we learned gigi…well, she’s gigi. and there’s no learning gigi because she’s constantly surprising you. did you pee your pants? she asked jeremy as they played, because i heard something squirting.

we learned harrison has a terrible fear of ticks, no matter how much i tried downplaying how very much they FREAK ME OUT. kids pick up on that sort of thing, you know.
 

he is clearly not afraid of dead crawdads

the very first day he was the only one to venture to what later became known as Tick Island. it rightly became a no-man’s-land for the rest of the weekend.

the smaller island in our stream was christened Hava Island, claimed by harrison and ava—replete with leaf and stick flag planted proudly.

Hava Island. not much to explore.

i can add other things here, pedantic thoughts like how the weather was perfect and there were virtually no bugs (the benefits of going in early may). or i can be more poetic and say how i couldn’t get enough of the sound of the twigs and pine needles crackling under my feet as i walked, and how the moss on the rocks was like a springy cushion we couldn’t get enough of poking.

but i’m sure you can fill in the blanks. just know we were sad—so, so sad—to leave. but our weekend in the woods did it’s job, and we returned home reinvigorated.

they showed me how sad they were to be leaving. elliot just wanted to comfort their sad faces.

reinvigorated, and full of memories and bumps and scraped up knees.

a more perfect start to summer i don’t think we’ll ever have.