what I'll tell them one day...

We're living in an extraordinary moment in history. Everyone is saying it. And while history books will tell the story of 2020, I want to frame its impact & nuances in my own words, for my own family, as an effort to capture what our lives looked like -- the day in and day out of our life at home.

So this is what I'll tell my girls someday about Quarantine 2020. 

We were home for seventy something days. The world outside was sleeping and we had each other. And we found out it was enough. Beaches and parks were closed, weddings and baby showers were cancelled. But we made the most of it. And discovered so much not cancelled: going outside, family walks, supporting local coffee shops, making memories, pizza nights, pillow forts. 

Darcie came to the conclusion that playgrounds and Chick-fil-a were broken. And often told us "the people need to build it again." Banks crawled around the house and learned to walk and celebrated her first birthday with a small family garden party. It was so special: our baby becoming a toddler in those sacred days we didn't know we needed to just soak in her every wobble and word. 

We rearranged furniture and watched the garbage truck every Tuesday for entertainment and cleaned out the garage and built a bunkbed. And we had that sinking feeling and lumps in our throats watching our 2 year-old slip into big girl-dom as she climbed up the ladder and we tucked her into a top bunk.

Sundays were slow. Spent curled up on the couch with homemade biscuits and coffee, soon upgrading to Ben's homemade quiche. The sound of singing filled our home as we watched church online. We missed our people, but we loved seeing the church stretch and innovate. And we loved being part of a moment in history as it rose up and leaned in and kept moving forward. God never stopped working. God never stopped showing up.

There were daily rides around the cul-de-sac in a little pink frozen motor car and nightly dinners around the kitchen table with some insane recipes. We cooked a lot. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Every. Day. `One night we made a charcuterie board for supper and the girls were big fans of helping themselves. We baked bread and muffins and pulled out old family recipes just for fun. Picnics in the front yard under our magnolia shade tree were common. Dinners on our back porch became the new going out to eat. Hotdogs became our girls' favorite food. We grilled them weekly (or more). All days were slow. And we forgot which day was what. Weekends became obsolete. We starting calling Saturday "day".

My plant subscription sparked joy whenever a new one showed up on the doorstep. Darcie helped me water my "trees" and got very concerned when she felt they were looking "sad" (droopy). Ben was furloughed from the hotel because food & beverage services shut down. He hustled hard, though and got a little gig playing hymns in the courtyard of a retirement community to boost hope in a lonely place. Our other jobs continued and we kept getting paychecks. That wasn't the story for so many families and we mourned and checked on friends and volunteered for food banks when we could. 

There were Star Wars marathons after the girls' bedtime and morning cuddles were a thing. Quaran-tunes in the living room with dad and his guitar, nights spent tediously painting kitchen cabinets, yard work and closet organization. Mirror selfies, chasing sunsets, simple wonder. Sunny days in our blow-up pool in the backyard. Outings to save our sanity to lavender farms and strawberry fields. Ben in an apron making fajitas in the kitchen, me on the floor playing blocks with the girls, the wind sweeping through the screen door, our feel-good playlist up loud, an eventual dance party with chopsticks as drums, tired parents and it’s only monday, tiny girls full of big emotions, a big love full of tiny moments. These were the moments.

Like us, families everywhere stayed home and watched spring unfold through nature walks and open windows or maybe we took note of every bloom and breeze because of less distraction or hurry or schedule. Darcie developed her love for "hanitizer" (hand sanitizer) and we lysoled everything and stocked up on toilet paper during the national shortage. Months later, I bought Ben a little toilet paper shaped ornament to commemorate 2020. Schools closed and parents gained a whole new respect for teachers. Essential workers kept going. Entire communities drove to hospitals and honked their horns to cheer on exhausted and overwhelmed healthcare heroes. FOMO was gone. Easter was at home, a brunch board with homemade waffles necessary to keep things fancy. Birthday parties were drive-by caravans. We witnessed one during a neighborhood walk. When the sweet 16-year-old girl laugh-cried as countless cars with paint and streamers beeped their horns and friends hung out of windows, we smiled and realized we were seeing the special, wondrous side of humanity. This would be what we remembered. And what we'd tell our kids. 

There was more good news, too. Clothing companies started producing masks, along with sewers at home to do their part. Car manufacturers pivoted to make ventilators. Restaurants became pros at curb-side pickup. We supported our local favorites whenever we could. We'd put the girls to bed and order fajitas or burgers or wings. Neighbors spent mornings sitting in lawn chairs in cul-de-sacs 6 ft apart sharing conversation because what else was there to do? In fact, quiet neighborhood streets were often the liveliest of all. Everyone drawn to being outside. Leaving the house for a breath of fresh air, change of scenery, last ditch effort to preserve their sanity. It became customary to politely cross to the other side of the street to pass people, but also customary to offer a kind wave and smile when doing so. Kindness. So much kindness. Everyone was having a hard go of it. Managing as best they could. There was a collective, palpable feeling in the air. Like one big breath being held in, waiting for the exhale, for the end in sight. 

I don't want to remember social distancing, #stayhome hashtags, stimulus bills, cancelled plans, or even that anxious feeling in the air. I want to remember those walks around the neighborhood where a dad was teaching his son to ride a bike in the middle of a Tuesday. I want to remember sidewalk chalk and baby sign language, date nights with scrabble tournaments and take out on the couch. Sleeping in, staying up late. Polaroids and simple living. Chunky cheeks and dirty little feet. Fresh bread out of the oven and the songs that played while rolling pizza dough. Boardwalk strolls with coffee and our girls in matching bucket hats, avoiding the areas where "BEACH CLOSED" signs sprinkled the sand. Rolled up papers turning into treasure maps, so many days when the trampoline was our saving grace, DJ learning to use the instax camera, and Banks learning to walk. 

Oblivious babies to the outside world and optimistic parents that these days really are THE days. 

happy birthday, banks

Dear Banks,

Your quarantine birthday is in the books! I can't wait to tell you about the time you turned one. I'll tell you about the night I cried as April inched on and I realized there would be no big party (I'm sure you'll know, but your mama loves planning parties). I'll tell you about how irritated your daddy was that I still had to have everything perfect for a low-key small family gathering. I'll tell you about how covid had me unable to keep track of days for the life of me until the calendar switched to your birth month and suddenly I was begging time to slow, keenly aware of it all, rocking you to sleep (even though you've been sleep trained for months) JUST to get even a few extra moments with you. I’ll tell you about the morning of May 14th and how I pulled you into our bed and cuddled you close and took a polaroid to remember the way your eyes curve when you smile and how your smile shows off your two tiny bottom teeth. And I’ll tell you about how we had the best day with you. You were perfect and happy and content throughout every moment  — a nod to what this year was like with you in our family. I’ll tell you about the way you dug your hands into your cake and then planted your face in it all the while your sister said, “mess it up, banks. Mess it up NOW!” I’ll tell you about the way the restaurants were closed but we ordered your favorite food to-go and you devoured a quesadilla, beans, rice, and guac. And I’ll tell you about how we ended the day - when I told your dad to take a picture of me with you as the sun set behind us because I couldn’t let the day end without capturing
one last snapshot of the way I smile when you’re in my arms.

You are my sweet girl, My angel. My pure soul. Your aunt Tay Tay calls you a "joy bomb". You light up every room - but more than that - you bring calm and comfort. A soothing presence. Somehow reassuring. You’ve given a distinct center to our lives when a pandemic tried to fray us. And for that, I thank you. 

Your shy smile can successfully jolt me out of any funk I’m in. Along with your kisses on demand, your power squat while playing, deep growls (which is totally not *on brand* for you, but you like to keep us guessing), love of the outdoors, and instant dance moves whenever you hear music or whenever we chant “go banks go banks". You are joy to the core. You started shaking your head yes before no (which you still haven’t learned!), and I believe it’s a true testament to your good natured personality: compliant, kind, cooperative, curious, sensitive. These are the qualities I love about you. 

Life with you is sweet. The past few months, we’ve been soaking it up extra because let’s face it, there’s not much else to do, but you provide top-notch entertainment and we’re not complaining. You speed crawl to follow us around the house and pull up to be part of any action you think you’re missing. You’ll use anything for a walker — you’ve been known to push around the kitchen barstools without a backwards glance. You’re FEARLESS and TOUGH. You’ll plunge into water without a second thought or climb up stairs or playgrounds and you somehow survive playing with DJ, which normally ends with getting knocked down or pummeled over. But you don’t hold any grudges. You crawl right back over to her as if to give her a clean slate. You adore her and you always have. I pray you always will.

You don't say as many words as your big sister did at your age, but we’ve heard: hi, uh-oh, all done, and dada. And let’s not forget everything you say with those eyebrows. So full of expression since day one, your own brand of communication. The words will come. So for now I cherish the rosy cheeks, furrowed brow, inquisitive eyes, and little waves. The waves will become little words, which will then become little sentences and then little stories and then little secrets. So for now, I rest in the present and refuse to rush the process. And there’s no shortage of entertainment in the here and now. Your sister does the talking and you’ve found mimicking makes us laugh so you stick with that. Whether it’s singing and echoing "into the unknown", giving Darcie’s dance moves a go, playing peek a book in your high chair, or copying us when we sneeze. It’s all so silly and yet impressively engaging, and unbelievably fun. Everything good for us in this strange season of the world. But, honestly, everything good for us, ever. 

The week of your birthday, you took your first steps. We shouted and cheered, exchanged looks of disbelief, pride, and sorrow. So many complex emotions. You are growing so much, baby girl. You’ll continue to find your footing and your fight. And I’ll be there. To teach you and advocate for you. To catch you when you fall and launch you when you need a push. It’s all a balance — life. And if 2020 has taught us anything, it’s that life is unpredictable. Nothing is guaranteed. Your safe circumference can be breached without warning. But there is still good news when you look for it. There are helpers when you look for them. And there is kindness when you look for it — I pray you’ll only have to look as far as within yourself to find that kindness first — and then spread it. And you will, my Banks Felicity. My riverbank of happiness, which is what your name means. I pray that you’ll use that joy from the center of who you are and bring center to others. That you’ll keep that smile on your face that reaches your eyes and then people’s hearts. And I pray those beautiful eyes remain open and clear. Clear to discern when you must disrupt comfort and confront injustice. Anything that stands in the way of the mission and mandate of Jesus is worth your time, your voice, and your action. When you don't know what to do, just do the next right thing (frozen 2 for reference in a couple decades when you read this). I pray you’ll be inventive in how you communicate, in how you engage, in how you befriend...build...bloom...and bridge. That you’ll live with surprising generosity and goodness. That you’ll love deeply, loudly, and firmly. That the nobodies will be somebodies when you’re around. I pray God will be your guide and that love, favor, peace, provision, and mercy will follow you all the days of your life — as I watch with pride every step of the way.

I'll wrap this thing up with words of scripture, formed into what we've dubbed your lullaby. The song I sing to you every night before bed, the song you hum along to while rocking against my chest:

My his favor be upon you
And a thousand generations
And your family and your children
And their children and their children
May his presence go before you
And behind you and beside you
All around you and within you
He is with you, he is with you
In the morning and the evening
In your coming and your going
In your weeping and rejoicing
HE IS FOR YOU, HE IS FOR YOU.

You are loved. You are treasured. You have so much to give this world. Thank you for living life in wonderment. Everyday I wonder how I lived without you. But I’m so thankful I don’t need to. 

Love,
Mom

worthy no matter the skin you wear.

romans 13:9-10

My heart is broken & heavy. I’ve borrowed a lot of words from others in the past & simply “shared” posts on instagram because:
1. it’s hard to find words to respond to this kind of injustice, and
2. I worry that I’ll say the wrong thing, fumble over it, and further prove to people I’ll never understand it because I’ll never experience it.

But enough is enough. I don’t care how much I know or don’t know. I’m choosing to dig deep & feel deep & speak from the depth of me because I want my kids to know one day that their mom had something to say about this. that I didn’t stay silent. that I was AWARE and AWAKE. and because I’m tired. tired of just “feeling bad” or “feeling sad” — I want to fight. I want to ask God to show me his heart for PEOPLE, the human race, & carry that heart within mine. I want to move with the compassion of Jesus & challenge systemic hate. I want to be educated. I want to advocate for those who have a different story and whose experience in this country is not the same as mine.

what is happening is heartbreaking, exhausting, infuriating, & revolting.

no one deserves to be killed for going on a run because they’re black. no one deserves to be killed for writing a bad check because they’re black. no one deserves to be second guessed or side glanced or sentenced to death because they’re black. it’s wrong. and wrong doesn’t have to be political or need any context. wrong is just wrong.

as I watched the video alone in my room, my 2 year-old ran in with a bag of balloons, begging me to blow them up because it would “be kinda really fun, mama!” I smiled & tried to snap back to the world inside my insulated, privileged, white home. but I couldn’t go back after what I saw. I couldn’t help imagining how I would tell darcie about this. how I could possibly explain hatred like this. how I could shatter the goodness within her by revealing the evil within others. how could dampen her world that revolves around simple things like when it will be her birthday with the reality that there are people in this world who think she deserves birthdays and others do not. I couldn't stop thinking about my beautiful friends of color who are weary & worn & worthy yet wondering if their white friends will even say anything -- preparing themselves for a lack of response and telling themselves it would be okay & move on. the mama who told me she prays every time her wonderful black husband and three beautiful black boys are apart -- that God would bring them home safely together. IT'S NOT OKAY.

as I blew up Darcie's balloons for a pretend birthday party, I was haunted by those “I can’t breathe” pleas from George Floyd as another human decided to be judge, jury, and executioner. as air left my throat, it struck me: breath in my lungs. here we are -- WE have breath in our lungs, unlike George, so we must use it. for GOOD. for change. for accountability. for love that conquers hate. for open eyes & open hearts to learn & continue to learn -- to be VIGILANT in learning. to ask questions, to be uncomfortable so as to comfort others, to resist being passive, numb, apathetic, or silent. to dig deep to find words that put us on the right side of history, even if it means stumbling over them to get there. God has given each of us a voice to speak out, eyes to see the truth, ears to listen to lived experiences, hands to take critical action, & a heart to entrust the greatest tool: empathy for people who are loved & valued by their maker. WORTHY no matter the skin they wear. let’s wake up and, as simple as it sounds, USE THEM.

to all my beautiful friends of color, help me. tell me how to do better. I am willing to do the hard work.

all my love, respect, & conviction,

destiny

(for ways to take action, text 'floyd' to 55156 and follow @grassrootslaw on instagram)

2019 in 365 seconds

Isn't it wonderful to know some of the best days of our lives are still ahead of us?

I documented the year we welcomed our newest daughter by taking 1 second video clips everyday, then compiled them using this app. This project was actually a New Years resolution and I'm proud I stuck with it!! I'm posting late, but since 2020 has been crazy so far, it's nice to revisit memories that bring joy while reminding myself that no season lasts forever. I'm deciding to continue this project this year -- 1 second clips to time capsule these quiet days at home. I think I'll appreciate them someday.

I encourage you to find ways to document these strange times. Pictures of your kids printed out, quarantine crafts saved, songs or poems written, videos created, gardens planted, letters written, journal entries to look back on, baby books completed. Tap into your own creativity! Don't simply exist, but choose to experience.

So here's to the little moments, the glimpses beyond the highlight reel, the growth & change that happen in the day in and day out, the way our lives strand together to create one story laced with beautiful, funny, and tragic moments.

And may we embrace the right now so one day we'll look back on 2020 and remember it fondly.

count your blessings not your losses

It's 2020 & the world is unlike anything we've ever known. It's strange & scary & surreal. And it seems selfish how much time we have together -- our little family. Everyday another day just us, isolated from what's going on out there. From the sickness, the empty streets and closed shops, the healthcare heroes who are leaving their families everyday to care for others. The simplicity of what our day-to-day life looks like now is too standard in the face of a pandemic. Waking up, wondering if we should have eggs or granola or both. Deciding between a Star Wars or Lord of the Rings marathon. Figuring out how to spend another day occupying a toddler and baby. Getting to spend every waking (& sleeping) moment with Ben. Baking, board games, cleaning out the garage, finally painting the kitchen cabinets. Being home in a house we love so much. The inside is insulated. But the chaos from the outside comes calling. The bad news we're bombarded with, the restlessness, the regulations, the confinement, the questions.

Last week, our governor announced a "temporary stay at home" order we all knew was coming. But the date "June 10th" took the wind out of my I-can-do-this-quarantine thing sails. Suddenly, I found myself grieving the small stuff...easter egg hunts, sundays in church, Banks' first birthday party, more time away from family & friends, Busch Gardens trips, farmers market mornings, Darcie's ballet classes, traditions put on hold, vacations cancelled.

It's crazy how quickly we forget how fortunate we are that the most we're being asked to do is stay home.

SO. I'm shifting my perspective. Choosing faith when fear comes sweeping in, when financial strain adds burdens. Choosing to smile at simple things and see that there's joy to be found in these jumbled and disrupting times.

Focus on the gifts instead of the risks, I tell myself. The moments of gratitude that bring calm and somehow burry the concern, if only for a few moments. I'm learning to see these, soak in these, and surrender the rest.

We are told to stay home to save lives. So here we are. On day 21 of quarantine in our house on Cranefield Place. So I'm counting blessings instead of counting my losses.

What I'm certainly grateful for in the midst of uncertainty:

- our new routine where we shut our laptops at 4:30pm and enjoy a family walk around the neighborhood

- not wearing make up 

- slowing down

- technology to connect with friends & family

- my job

- baking my mom's cranberry muffins that remind me of childhood

- getting outside everyday

- the blessing. on repeat (& Banks singing & swaying during "aaaaamen")

- buffalo chicken tacos

- every other dinner Ben has cooked the past two weeks
- church at home on my couch with coffee (never have I been more proud to be part of such a beautiful, strong, resilient, and unstoppable force called THE CHURCH)

- Darcie's first night in her bunk bed

- losing so badly at scrabble

- worship playlists (my favorite one HERE)
- healthcare professionals, first responders, military, teachers, and essential workers
- refinancing and saving on our mortgage in the the ACTUAL nick of time
- fancy tea parties at home with DJ and her dolls she calls kids

- our pristine duvet cover after bleaching it for the first time since being married

- Darcie telling me Banks is her "best fend" 

- a husband that hustles however he can in order to provide

- songwriting with Ben and his guitar
- uber eats

- my girls in matching pink overalls
- little pick-me-ups like a new plant in the mail or a good jam song

- empty beaches & sandy toes
- movie nights cuddled up on the floor in a sleeping bag with Darcie, pizza, and popcorn
- picking wildflowers on our walks
- the pride on Banks' face (and mine) when she finally learns how to pull up!
- Ben bringing coffee to my bed every morning
- time for us to talk and dream and argue
- reading this book every night before bed, which is quoted by the 2 year-old in its entirety
- national burrito day and free delivery at chipotle
- our double stroller

- new leaves on my fiddle leaf fig
- staying organized and nutritious with my handy dandy meal planner
- quaran-tune sessions with the newly assembled family band
- sleeping in while Ben gets breakfast for the girls
- zoom meet ups

- a warm slice of fresh baked bread with butter & jam
- watching spring unfold before our eyes
- waves from strangers and kind smiles in our neighborhood
- sister group chats where we exchange recipes, scriptures, memes, attempted new hobbies, and solidarity
- PJs all day
- teaching DJ the life skill and love language of homemade pizza
- love notes to the girls
- psalm 91 and psalm 42
- the smell of fresh cut grass
- Darcie's growing vocabulary & the way she definitively says "yeah. I fink so." when she's pleased with the choice she made
- the swing on our magnolia tree in the front yard
- snuggles on the couch watching Bluey when all else fails and we just. need. a. minute.
- the happiest smiles when B wakes up from her naps, her rosy cheeks, eager eyes, & red marks from her sheets successfully jolting me out of any funk
- sunshine & picnics, magic hour & bonfires
- balancing the belly laughs & exasperated sighs at trying to successfully co-parent while cooped up at home all day everyday
- Banks always there to bring the calm. the joy. the reassurance. Her tiny life yanking us back to simple wonder, the comfort of routine, easy laughter, and the importance of play.
- chances to teach our girls about Jesus through simple books like this
- the breakfast nook where we eat together as a family nearly every meal
- so much time for Ben to play with the girls...always a game on the agenda...daddy mountain, hide and seek, rocket ship, catch, monster daddy, puppy Darcie
- dance parties before bedtime
- time to think and pray and listen and write
- slowing down, self check ins, a soul refresh, maximizing the moment, deciding I will not waste this crisis

10 valentine's days with you

My valentine. We hum Cinderella all day long and geek out over Star Wars. We create traditions and sing together and make everything a competition and fight while cooking in the kitchen. We tell each other "you're doing a great job" and motivate one another with "you got this, babe." We take our girls to get doughnuts and go grocery shopping as a family every Friday morning which sometimes results in making a scene in aisle 4. We get dressed up sometimes, split french fries, and ask the host at the restaurant to take a polaroid as we leave. We skip out on long lines at the arcade to go play pool instead. We give each other cards and laugh at being cheesy and yet we're cheesy all the same. 

You are the man in the kitchen making the kids dinner. You make the coffee every night and pour my cup every morning. You never forget to take out the trash. You treat my dreams like your own. You make play forts with Darcie, take the girls on rocket ship rides, and plan family movie nights. All you ever want is more of us....even when we're not at our best. 

We've created a really beautiful life. You're my forever. 

Dear Banks...

You're 6 months old. And every month of you makes our family feel more whole. We love your around-the-clock cuddles & the way you meet our eyes when we call your name. A smile always follows. Your smile reaches your eyes. And reveals small dimples in your cheeks. Some of my favorite moments with you are when I stare into your big brown eyes and watch them squint with a smile until they're just littles slits atop the chubbiest cheeks. Your cheeks make you friends everywhere you go.

You're the newest member of the Darcie fan club. You search the room and crane your neck when you hear your sister nearby. As if you're preparing for whatever she's got in store for you. You save your biggest smiles for her. You're surprisingly tolerant of her sometimes rough methods of affection. She likes to give you your pacifier, tell you "no cy baby" when you're sad, steal your toys when you're happy, and hold you in an awkward fashion & only on her terms. I anticipate the future of your relationship being tricky and totally awesome.

You love being worn. I'm thankful because we're on the go a lot. Since being born, you've gone strawberry picking, blueberry picking, pumpkin picking, and apple picking -- all while snuggled on mama's chest. The seasons are flying by and you're getting bigger with each one. But with every new adventure, we realize more and more how perfectly you fit right in. Right into our arms. Right into our hearts. Right into the family chaos. Right into the rhythms of the Rothwell life. The little Banks-sized piece we were always missing. The piece we sometimes take for granted because you are so quiet and inquisitive and forgiving and resilient.

At the beginning, I admit we would forget you were there! I blame exhaustion. Or your big sister. Or your temperment. You were content. Calm. We'd go about our business and suddenly: "oh yeah!! we have two now!" You'd kindly remind us of your tiny presence with tiny coos that quickly had all of us hovered around you, exercising our best and most annoying baby voices. You would attentively watch us, like you were trying to learn the Rothwell ropes in this big new world.

our first photo as a family of four

We struggled for a few months in mastering sleep. It was hard. And you fought us with a will so strong I was alarmed. You are stubborn, but your parents are just as much. Your dad would tell you during your crying fits, "you've met your match, Banksy." He named your middle-of-the-night bouts of screaming your "90 minute rebellion." But in the end, we won. And we understand all over again the delicate nature of childhood. The briefness of every phase even though they seem like they're endless. The theft of time. Here we are... so proud of you for learning how to fall asleep without our help. But also aware of an ache -- a yearning for those maddening & beautiful long hours of shooshing & rocking & feeling so needed & wanted. The answer to your restlessness. The key to your rest. Thank you for working with us, forgiving us, and cooperating with us. We all learned so much. And I can say you are finally, finally, finally sleep trained. I'll only need 2 years of therapy but I won't hold it against you.... ;)

You have many nicknames. Baby B, Bansky, Bansky Boo, Banky (daddy only), Queen B, Bankers (courtesy of uncle Landon), Baby Sisser (creative credit to Darcie James), Boinks, Banksy-Love, and the one your Nana so appropriately gave to you: Flopsy. Because you flop around as you're passed around and melt into whoever is holding you. Like you're just here for the snuggles. You haven't had a lot of interest in testing out new tricks like rolling or crawling...you like to people watch and gnaw on toys and be held by mama and be outside in the fresh air. But don't worry, I won't rush you. Take your time, sweet love. You'll learn the way. Just like you learned how to sit up. And I watched you focus with all your might on staying balanced. I laughed during playdates at the park where you tried not to fall over with every small gust of wind.

Sitting is now your favorite position for your favorite pastime: sister watching. You love to sit on the floor and play with the leftover toys Darcie gives you as she floats around in a land of make believe. I'd like to think she's giving you a lesson on how to imagine and dream. And that you're paying attention. So you'll be ready to take your place in her world of stories when the time is right. I also wonder how long you'll be okay with her toy-snatching, and if your temperament will always prefer others over yourself.  There's so much yet to be discovered. But this I know: you're an old soul. A mild soul. A kind soul.

You bring our family joy. You teach us lessons about grace & gentleness & sharing & persistence & presence. You make us wonder what the future will look like. You make us laugh at what today looks like because even when I'm tired with dirty clothes, dirty hair, and a dirty house... you are my "why" right now. And everything else can wait. You are the "who" that I want to know. And everyone else can wait.

So I'm thankful I know the details of Banks Felicity Rothwell. Like how you pull bows off your head, aggressively rub your eyes when you're tired, squeak when daddy sings to you as if to make it a duet, and how you reach for mama with everything you've got -- accompanied by the most pitiful whine. And in this moment, at 6 months old... I'll remember you as a sleep machine, a smile factory, a hand nommer, a toe grabber, a forgiving little sister. You love pears & sweet potatoes & bedtime stories & talking to yourself in your bed after naps with a tiny raspy voice that DJ hears and shouts "baby sisser UP!"

Happy half birthday, little one. You've ALWAYS belonged. I see you showing us just how much with every passing day. Thanks for being one of us. You're a natural at it.

xo,
mama



A video documenting your first 48 hours....

apple picking with my top picks

A few weeks ago, we headed to the mountains and took the girls apple picking. This is a fall tradition for us and has often turned into a "birthday road trip" for me over the years.

little babies in 2011 at the top of carter mountain 

In 2011, Ben called me on my birthday, told me to get ready and picked me up from my college dorm for a surprise day trip to Charlottesville. Back then, "Carter Mountain" wasn't an overused fall catchphrase in Virginia. It was quiet, new, and charming. It was both our first time and that day remains a special dating memory (where he actually gave me my first piece of jewelry, too!)

This year was Darcie's third time, but the first time she actually "got it" and subsequently talked the whole 2 hour drive home about picking apples and eating "eenuts" (donuts). She was our designated taste tester, but didn't quite excel at her position as she bit into apples from the ground and declared "mmm yummy!"

Banks dozed in the Solly wrap and looked cute while doing it. She's our chill kid currently. She watches her big sis, always with those cute eyebrows raised, as if to say, "woah, you can do that, too? you're the coolest ever." All the while DJ practically runs up the mountain, talks to everyone in her path, gives us a full-on commentary every step of the way, and somehow finds a "walking stick" that *ALMOST* went home with us.

It's a sweet season we're living out. The nights are long and the adult conversation is short, often interrupted by hungry tummies or the repetitive "mama! mama! mama!" But I love scheduling and committing to days like this. Making adventure work. Making memories. Making exploration happen or so help me! It's a beautiful opportunity we have to show our children the playground of the world.

Even though Carter Mountain is crowded now and the traffic makes you wanna turn around, we still go every year to pick apples. And I pick this trip again and again. Because I love Virginia in the fall. I love the blue ridge mountains. I love the memories attached to this place. I love putting sweaters on my girls and telling them we're going on an adventure. Because I love the car ride with Ben where we listen to whatever new album we're loving. I love the coffee in hand and the car naps and the anticipation of a family day spent with the ones I love. Because I love the apple cider donuts and the autumn colors and the winding road and red barn when you get to the top and the scenic views and the hand holding & baby carrying & apple fetching where strong arms help little arms reach the highest ones.