Dear Will - Seven Months Old

Will,

Seven months. How did we get here already, my not-so-little-anymore babe?

This was the month that you really came alive. For the first time since you were born, I looked at you and I thought, "kid" instead of "baby." You have started talking up a storm and your eyes lock on mine when I talk to you, and I can see your brain working, just waiting to make actual words out of the sounds. And I know it's early for this, but I can't help but wonder what your first real words are going to be.

You never learned to roll over, but went right to sitting instead. It was as if you didn't have time for that slow progression, but were eager to just get to the good stuff already. You can sit up all by yourself now, and you are happy to sit on the living room floor for hours playing with your toys. And you love your toys. You don't just grab them and put them in your mouth anymore. Instead you bang them against each other and shake them to hear the sounds they make, and when you really like one of the sounds you look up at me and grin your big baby grin and laugh a little, as if you can hardly believe what you just did. From my perch on the couch, I watch you while you play, and I already think that you are going to have a really good imagination - just like your daddy - and that thrills me because his imagination has brought him so much happiness and joy, and I hope that yours does for you too.

You saw your very first snow this month. Last Saturday morning we woke up and the whole world was white. I took you to the door and you stared out at the still-falling snow and you bounced up and down, excited by this new thing. When the storm was over I dressed you up in your blue snowsuit that matches your eyes and took you outside to play. We sat you down in the snow that was almost as tall as you, and you giggled and squealed while we played the stereotypical new parents and scurried around snapping pictures. And I was so excited that you loved it because snow is one of my most favorite things, and I was already thinking ahead to next year when you can walk and talk and I can take you out to play and we can share my favorite snow day treats and I can show you all of the magic that happens during a winter storm.

Six months ago, when I was elbow deep in your diapers and spit-up and still waking up all night long, I wanted to kill anyone who would tell me to "enjoy it because it goes so fast." But I feel differently now. I understand now that it really does go so fast that I sometimes feel breathless. On the one hand, I want time to just slow its roll, to give me the opportunity to imprint these days and these moments so that I can always remember how it was when you were little and I was learning how to be a mom. But I also know that there is so much more up ahead. This paradox of motherhood informs all of my moments with you, and I suspect that this is exactly the way it should be.

You fill me up with goodness, my sweet Will. I'm so happy to be your mom.

With love as big as the sky,

Mom

Previous Letters:

One Month

Two Months

Three Months

Four Months

Five Months

Six Months

Winter, We Just Can't Quit You

Even when it's March.

Throwback Thursday: That Time Everything Was The Same

February 5, 2014

February 5, 2015

After the Storm

After the ground is blanketed by ten inches of snow and the ice falling from the sky finally decides to stop, the day after, this is what is left behind.

And on mornings like this, I'm just so happy to live here. To be here. To see this.

The (Not) Blizzard of 2015

January. This is the time of year when I love the snow. Can't get enough of it. Hope for it, get excited by it, and take lots of pictures of it. It hasn't snowed much yet this year, so it's still a novelty.

I'm sure that by this time next month the novelty will have worn off and I'll be really excited for spring, but for the time being, I'm having a great time lacing up my snow boots, navigating snow-covered sidewalks, and taking a million of the same snowy pictures that cover my blog every year around this time.

It was supposed to snow three feet. The entire city shut down, there was no public transportation, and my office closed the night before. So even when it only snowed about a third as much as everyone thought it would, there was no putting the genie back in that bottle. So instead of going to work, I spent the day on the couch watching TV, eating snacks and working a little bit, while David played with his massive, gas-guzzling snowblower. So happily, we got a day off, and we now have the cleanest driveway in the entire neighborhood.

This is the (not) blizzard of 2015.

31: New Years Eve

December 31st. New York Eve. New York City.

It was cold outside this morning. Maybe the coldest it has been all month so far. For the first time, I wore my new winter coat to work and the new winter accessories I spent way too much time picking out at Nordstrom Rack to match the coat, and I was unreasonably excited about this small detail. It's the little things, right?

We say that all the time. It's the little things. We don't even really think all that hard about what it means. But 2014 made me really see just how important those little things are. This was a hard year.  One day soon I will tell the story of this year, and then you'll know. And I understand now that it was the little things, those small pleasures, that kept me moving forward when the whole year seemed designed to bring me to my knees, time after time.

Like ordering pizza and eating it in front of the TV. Or binge watching season 1 of The West Wing for the 47th time. Or my favorite romance novel of all time with the cover practically worn off from years re-reading. Or red nail polish. Or sitting outside in the summer time. Or eating dinner with my sister at 10:30 at night at my kitchen table. Or the fluffy purple bathrobe that was a gift from my best friend who loved hers so much that she got one for me too. Or meeting David in the city after work to go home together. Or a really good piece of candy. Or french fries. Or the first sips of my morning coffee outside, just as the sun comes up. Or wearing my brand new winter coat for the very first time.

It's these things that keep me - and, I suspect, many of you too - grounded in the here and now when our brains want to take off on a flight of what-ifs and worst case scenarios, or when we just want to curl up into a ball of self-pity and defeat. These are the things that make life sweet, even when life is being a big, fat bitch.

This morning, as is my habit, I left my house through the back door. For a minute I just stood on the deck. The sky was clear and the sun was rising. I saw the lovely older couple who lives next door through their kitchen window, making coffee and smiling at each other. My neighbors on the other side dragged their paper recycling to the curb and I thought how irritated they would be when they realized that paper recycling isn't being picked up today because of New Years. I thought of David, still sleeping upstairs, and my parents starting their day in Pittsburgh, and my sisters in Ohio making breakfast and chasing kids. And I looked at the house rising behind me - the one with the back yard we love and the snow shovel that lives on the front porch all year round - that was so strange and new when we first moved in but that now holds more than two years worth of memories things and clutter and all the things that mean home. And I remembered something that my sister said to me when we were talking on the phone yesterday: "This is the only life that we get." And she is so right.

This is it. These things and these moments that make up our days are all we get, and sometimes they're hard and there's not much we can do about that except make ourselves see the good and enjoy the little things and be thankful for them because those little things are what help us to keep swimming when the seas are choppy and the current threatens to pull us under.

Like a minute of quiet grace on a cold winter morning as the sun is rising.

If this past year has taught me anything, it's that this life that I am living is a good one. That I am lucky in my family and my friends and the place I have made my home. And I've learned that the knocks that I take and the ones that are still to come are part of my story and that they make me a more interesting and maybe even a more thoughtful person.

So here's to taking the bad with the good, to holding the people we love close to us, and to making the most of this one and only life.

Happy New Year.

9

I like the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree best just like this.

A rainy day. A deserted plaza. Bright lights against the gloom.

8

My littlest niece, courtesy of Sister L.

4. Mayhem in Manhattan

Trying to get from work to Grand Central Station on the night of the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree lighting when every cross street is blocked and police are literally barricading crosswalks.

Next year I'm either staying home or sleeping in my office.

3. Spooky December Morning Fog

2. Branches Without Leaves

 What used to look like this:

Now looks like this:

December 1: First Snow

December.

I'm not sure how this happened, but fall is pretty much over and we are full-speed ahead into winter and into this month that is notoriously crazy. I may not celebrate Christmas, but between some trips, various holiday parties, some special projects, and the garden variety end of year insanity that comes with being a trusts & estates lawyer, it's shaping up to be a busy, slightly crazy thirty-one days.

One of the reasons I have always liked December is that the everything changes for these four weeks. The world is awash in various hues of red, green, silver and gold, radio stations forego their regularly scheduled programs for Christmas carols, and as much as the holiday season in New York City drives me insane, there is so much to see during this lead up to the new year.

So, while my world keeps on spinning, from now until New Years I am going to post a picture a day of life at the very end of 2014. This time of year can pass by so fast, and this year I am willing it to slow down a little so that I can enjoy the season of craziness and fun before the cold gets irritating, the snow turns slushy and brown, and I start dreaming of warm summer days again. I think taking pictures might be just the way to make that happen.

This first picture comes from the Poconos last Wednesday as we made our way from New York to Pittsburgh for Thanksgiving. It may not have been the smartest idea to drive through the mountains directly through the very first snow of the year, but we made it safe and sound, and it certainly made for some excellent photography.

Happy December. Wishing everyone a month of peace, happiness, gratitude and beautiful moments.

Baby It's Cold Outside

Winter, we're coming for you.

A Cold Winter, A Flower, and The Possibility of Spring

I walked out of my house and immediately started shivering.

I couldn't believe how cold it was and even sneaked a look at my phone to confirm that it was, in fact, still March and we didn't somehow Back-To-The-Future it back to January without me noticing. Not that I have anything against time travel, it's just that if I'm going back in time, I would prefer to head back to my Bahamas vacation of a few years ago where the sky was blue, the ocean crystal clear, and the air warm.

Warm.

I felt like I hadn't been warm in months.

The snow started in November, the Polar Vortex took hold sometime around New Years, and we had been cold ever since. Winter is generally my favorite of all the seasons, but even this Pittsburgh girl was worn out.

Four months of hauling bags of salt, shoveling the snow that seemed to never stop falling and sliding my way to the train station had taken its toll.

I couldn't even remember what warm felt like. For months my life had consisted of bundling up into sweaters I hadn't worn since my college days in the frozen tundra that is winter in Boston, a puffy coat, and the wooliest winter accessories to get to work, only to peel off the layers once I was sitting in my office, where the entire building is a sauna and climate control is a dirty word.

I thought that if I tallied up all the time I spent dealing with winter clothes and accessories over the past four months it would rival the time that summer where I watched all of 24 and The West Wing in approximately ten weeks. Assuming every show is about 42 minutes long without commercials (and I certainly didn't watch commercials), that is, conservatively, 242 hours. All in all, I'd rather be watching TV.

Which I did, a lot, this winter, because when it's so cold that your face freezes before you can make it to the car, there's not a whole lot of motivation to go out at night unless you absolutely have to.

I locked the door, glared at the snow shovel and salt spreader that had taken up permanent residence on my porch, and considered kicking them both until they were broken, but cooler heads prevailed when I remembered that at the rate we were going it would probably snow more still before winter finally released its icy grasp.

As I swung into the driver's seat of my car, eager to warm it up and get the heat going to ward off the chill, something caught my eye. On the side of the driveway, almost hidden by the damp and still frosty leaves, a tiny purple flower poked out of the ground. It was the only one of its kind, and barely visible, but it was there, its color a pop of cheerfulness on the cold, grey day.

And I thought that maybe spring isn't too far off after all.

Summer Dreaming On Such A Winter's Day

I think, I really think, that it will be winter for the rest of my life. And I say that as someone who loves winter.

But this winter is unlike any other. And I say that as someone who grew up in Pittsburgh, PA with its lake effect snow, and who went to college in Boston, MA and its frigid New England temps.

Today is the last day of February, daylight savings time starts next weekend, and we are a mere 20 days from the first day of spring. Yet the temperatures outside feel like negative numbers, and we are expecting another foot of snow on Monday.

And I think that if I have to shovel snow, or spread salt, or drag garbage cans to the curb through iced over snow drifts, or put on a wool sweater, or drag on boots one more time I might scream.

And it makes me feel bad, because winter and I have always been good friends. Maybe it comes from having a January birthday, but I have always loved the cold. I love being outside in it. I love soup and chili and cozy nights in front of the fireplace. I love ice skating and various other outdoor winter sports. I love running outside and breathing in frigid morning air. I love the way my house looks covered in snow.

I really love winter.

But those warm and fuzzy feelings are escaping me this year as the cold and snow drags on with no end in sight.

So I have decided that my winter ends now. Today. Yes, it may be freezing outside with more snow in the forecast, but I am pretending like that's not happening. For me, today is the first day of spring. The wild cheery Slurpee I just had said so.

I know that in a few months when it's dreadfully hot outside I'll be dreaming of colder days.

But for now, I declare winter over. 

Who's with me?

There Are Really No Words

So pictures will have to do.

Behold, yesterday's snowstorm, our attempt to clean it all up, and my attempt to get into the city for work this morning, before the sun rose.

I love the snow. Have always loved it. There is something completely fun and romantic about being snowbound, cozied up inside with movies and hot drinks as the flakes fall and the world turns quiet and white. 

But after 6 big storms in 2 months - not to mention the snow we're supposed to get tomorrow and again on Monday - I might be ready for spring. Besides, it can't snow anymore because, as you can see, we have absolutely nowhere left to put it.

(Another) Snow Storm

Because I apparently can't get enough of posting snow pictures this winter...

I sat at my desk on Tuesday, waiting and waiting. The storm had started earlier than expected, and it was getting bad. Everyone at work was getting antsy, especially people who had to do more than just hop on a subway home. The hours dragged by, and still nothing. No e-mail from the head of the firm with that magical subject line: "New York office closing early."

And me? I wasn't worried about getting home, I assumed that I would make it somehow. I was mostly just excited about the possible early dismissal from work, the same way I used to be excited when school closed early for snow and an afternoon of snowball fights, snow angels, hot chocolate and cookies stretched before me like a long and endless road.

And then, at 2:15, it came.

And suddenly, I was ten years old again.

I packed up my stuff, put on my boots, and hit the streets. Everywhere I walked people were slipping and sliding and complaining about it. Bemoaning the seemingly interminable stretch of snow that we have been getting lately. But not me. I made my way to Grand Central on foot as the snow swirled. With nowhere to go in a hurry I took my time, enjoying the rare site of the city covered in white, snapping pictures all the way.

I guess I should probably be sick of it by now, but I'm just not. I'm a winter girl, and this is the best time of the year.

January 21, 2014.

Usually I can see New Jersey from my office window.
Not today.

Snow-covered 6th Avenue

Impassable 50th Street
(although it was fun watching a cab try)

Slippery 5th Avenue, South

Slippery 5th Avenue, North

Deserted Rockefeller Plaza

Driving Home. Can't See Lanes.

More than a foot

My favorite snowstorm view