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.
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
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.
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.
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.
The state fair makes me THE MOST nostalgic. We don't make it every year, but I'm turning THIRTY this month so when Ben asked how I wanted to kick off my birthday month, I immediately decided a family trip to the state fair would be IT.
It was magic. Even though we were in the throws of potty training, we managed! I realized it was Darcie's first time in a public restroom so by the end of the day, we had made many, many trips to try and pee in the "pee pee place" as she so creatively named it.
Fried oreos were a crowd favorite and we brought plenty of snacks we could throw in front of DJ anytime she yelled "hotgog!" or "fwies!" (since fair food will break your bank if you let it!) I took her on her first ferris wheel ride and it was a moment, for sure. Although, hands down, the petting zoo was her most favorite part.
Here's a little 1 minute video of the sights and sounds of the fair!
