while I'm waiting for you

Hey, baby girl...

I am 39 weeks, 4 days pregnant and we are in the final moments of waiting to meet you. Emotions are high and change is so palpable that of course, I had to sit down and write, as I do, to let things settle and get stored for safe-keeping.

I'm thinking back on this pregnancy and honestly, it was quite something. 

Growing you inch by inch seemed to inch by. Slow in part because the social aspect of society has slowed during the pandemic. I spent so many endless days just home with your sisters, taking tums to fend off heartburn, and casually growing your limbs while playing make-believe or breaking up disputes while figuring out what to make for dinner yet again and glancing at the clock to see how long until daddy came home. I hardly wore make up. Hardly left the house. Hardly wore real clothes. 

Yet, even as the days blended together and dragged on and the overall "covid pregnancy" sentiment lingered, this pregnancy was by far the most eventful. It will be marked forever by significant life happenings stacked on top of each other that leave me feeling very "at home" with you inside my belly. Like enough has happened that we've just become a little team, me and you, weathering it together. As if the shared experience that grew me -- as I grew you -- bonded us. 

I'll always be thankful that I had you - close to my heart - during the last 9 months. 

We opened a coffee shop not long after we learned about you. It feels like the shop has been part of us much longer than the time it takes to grow a baby and I marvel that I've been pregnant with you the whole time! I joke with your dad that I'll finally be able to enjoy owning a coffee shop once I no longer get heartburn after the first sip (thanks for that).  Owning a business has been an interesting adjustment and we're still learning the balance of it all.

File under covid pregnancy: I went to all my OB appointments and ultrasounds alone, which made the visits seem longer and more frequent and never-ending. I saw you for the first time with your Dad on FaceTime and it was strange and sad. Holding the phone up, we shared a moment while he tried to hush your big sisters in the background to hear your heartbeat, squinting to try and catch all the curves and angles of your tiny frame. I asked the technician to print me photos, even though they've switched to digital, and she wrote "hi Darcie and Banks!" on the one with your perfect little profile. 

I got covid while pregnant around Christmas time. We missed out on so many holiday outings, but we sure did watch a lot of cheesy Christmas movies. Seems like ages ago, but I tell you what not being able to smell or taste anything while also experiencing intense food cravings was definitely Destiny Rothwell at one of her lowest points. Sorry for who I was then. It was a dark time. 

I watched my sister get married on a zoom call. Her in Australia saying yes to her forever, us in Virginia crowding around a tiny phone screen asking her to twirl around in her princess dress hours before the ceremony -- tears flowing because we knew it was the extent of "getting ready" with the bride. We celebrated BIG by hosting a family watch party complete with the big screen, catering, and wedding cake, but that bittersweet feeling was still strange.

Then your papaw had a massive heart attack and cardiac arrest during my third trimester. For a week straight while waiting on his recovery and wondering what life would look like, I would just rub my belly and tell you (but mostly myself) that everything was going to be okay and you were going to know him. He loves his grandkids so well and I am so thankful for the miracle of more time with him. It is a gift for you that I never want you to take for granted. 

But glory to God, you are coming to family still in tact. It's been a few wild months, but you have been born into a season of faith. We've weathered storms, waited, prayed, risked, worked, paved, and prepared. We have trusted God and listened to his leading and walked through doors only he could have opened. YOU are the gift we are now ready to receive...I can't wait to welcome you into this ferocious & crazy & beautiful world. 

baby prep, bunk beds, and mini vans.

We are all preparing for your arrival in our own way.

Dad is upgrading our coffee pot (priorities), putting together baby gear to make our life more functional, ordering lots of gadgets from Amazon, cooking for us (as always, you'll see), and of course doing normal things like dusting ceiling fans and cleaning toilets and filling an entire trunk of stuff for goodwill (these may have been my ideas....) 

Darcie is asking lots of questions and checking in on me regularly. Does the baby like spicy food? Does the baby have manners yet? Is the baby kicking you hard? Is the baby making you tired? She has dubbed herself the "little mama" and promises to help take care of you. I actually don't doubt her. You'll learn not to doubt Darcie James. 

Banks is testing everything out for you. Currently your swing and bassinet are occupied with her baby dolls. Your "HopHop" stuffed bunny is getting some extra love, too. And your pacifiers have almost gone missing on a few occasions from a very territorial 22 month-old.

Mama is waddling around ensuring home will be your happy place. You're on my mind every moment. It races, envisioning your face, and goes from task to task in a valiant effort to create intentional corners and drawers and spaces for you to occupy in our home. You'll be one of us. Your presence will change us and better us. I want you to take up space here and be known. 

We each wonder what another little girl will be like here. Another head of hair for bows. Another recipient of hand-me-downs. More pink, more Frozen, more pigtails, more drama. Another future resident of the babe cave bedroom. Another member of the Rothwell Sisterhood. 

But yet...your own person. Your own unique YOU. I can hardly wait to see who you favor, how you're different, and how you'll make your own splash. You have always been meant for us. And we're all eager to see you jump in and join. 

Darcie reminds us almost daily how your arrival will impact her. Top on her list is moving to the top bunk so Banks can move to the bottom and you can move to the crib (she's got it all worked out), and next up is moving to the backseat of the van. Oh yeah, we bought a mini van. You, my sweet girl, are what pushed me over the edge into a "mini van mom." Although, I will mostly blame your Dad. He was very persuasive on your behalf. It's still settling in for me, but your Dad is straight up living the dream and I guarantee we'll have some pretty epic adventures in pretty epic places if he has anything to say about it. Here's to Rothwell road trips! 

Back to the bunk bed. That was another big discussion between mom & dad. We got it when Banks was just a baby. It actually arrived in the mail the week before the pandemic hit and we set it up our first week of quarantine. I tried to convince Ben that we needed those cute little minimalist toddler beds, but he wanted function. He wanted practicality. A huge bunkbed that sleeps three kids. And who knew...it's going to do exactly that one day in the near future. 

You can come now. Your family can't wait to meet you. 

Letter to my girls from 2020

Dear Darcie & Banks,

Happy new year, baby girls. 

And boy, aren't we happy to have made it through this one.  

What a wild, whirlwind, keep-you-guessing, leave-you-breathless year 2020 proved to be. You'll read so much about it in your history books, but I want you to know from my heart to yours: this year was truly a gift to live because nearly every waking moment was spent with you. Every. waking. moment.

I won't lie and say there weren't rough spots. Moments where your dad's and my emotional, physical, mental strength reserve tanks were running on near empty. Moments where we cried over what we saw on the news or sat up late into the night talking about what in the world was happening in our world. Moments where we had to let go of things we hold dear or throw our hands in the air at a loss for how to get through. Feeling stuck, even frozen in time, which resulted in bickering and debating and challenging and making up and saying sorry.  I remember moments of saying no to worry and yes to trusting God. And then moments where the stillness seemed to swallow us. 

Yes. The price of this pandemic has taken its toll on everyone. Everyone has felt its effects and navigated its damage. Everyone has had to process and grieve in their own way. 

But somewhere in the middle, specifically in mid-April as the flowers bloomed and spring brought fresh life, I was reminded to be gentle with myself even in the struggle. Because growth is there. And when you power through with grit, you get to see the growth. So I resolved to stop resisting stillness. Stop fighting the gift of slowing, listening, and learning. Loosening my grip meant readjusting goals, plans, trips, birthdays, and my overall outlook on life. 

But my pandemic practice took form and eventually became my mantra. Pause, ponder, & pray. So much was uncertain this year, but there were certain GIFTS in the midst of it all and certainly a God above it all. Open ears and heart. Stop and savor the present. Lean into emotions. And make prayer my go-to, not my last resort. I started praying more over your lives. Over your dad. Over our family and friends and friends of friends. Over our next steps and business plans and dreams and finances. I started believing for provision and favor. I started the shift in my perspective. Pause. Ponder. Pray. 

In January of 2020, one year ago, I decided to start a gratitude journal. I had no idea what was coming. Or to what extent my gratitude would be tested. It was a bit of a whim. I wanted to get back to writing things down, but I knew I couldn't consistently keep up with anything too commitment heavy. And while I used to keep journals, I haven't in years. But I felt a nudge to be acutely aware of my abundance going into 2020. To write down the gifts and help center myself in the ebbs and flows of life. And of course, now I know why. 

One year later. I've learned to count my blessings instead of counting my losses. I enjoy adding up gifts instead of adding up risks. I continually purpose to choose prayer instead of panic. And I focus on delighting in the little things within my home instead of dreading the big things out there in the world. 

The best beauty exists and is encapsulated within our little home. Home became everything. And you, Darcie and Banks, were everything to us. There was quiet in the world. All kinds of delicious quiet. 

And quiet became our friend. Stillness our everyday rhythm. Patience became our practice. Contentment became our joy. Your amazing dad helped me get through. I leaned on him at the end (and during every waking moment, let's be honest) of my every day. On days when I felt down, he had that extra pep in his step to make another day another adventure with you girls. He and I became a team. We worked together and picked up the slack for one another. We learned how to co-parent two little toddlers. And we made it.

Along the way, we also saw how amazing our little toddlers actually are.

You were our perpetual bright spot. Our shining light. The glue that stuck us all together. Your smiles when we needed them, bouncy personalities that snapped us from the couch into dance parties, and eager eyes full of unconditional love. You didn't let the wear & tear of 2020 wear you down. In fact, you were oblivious to the weight of this year and instead, helped us as mom & dad weather it with grace. Because we had you. You were resilient, optimistic, and flexible. The world asked children to do hard things this year. And I'm so proud we all made it together. I realized how much FUN we're capable of having every single day for like an entire year. The four of us. We did it. 

There is peace knowing that if all material goods or comforts were stripped away, it would still be okay because my heart remains here with you. And I am happy.  

And you are happy. And that's what matters. 

Your tiny lives. The tiny balls of energy that constantly brought us back to laughter, wonder, tickles, routine, play, teething, and teaching one another how to fully love life -- amidst a pandemic & all. 

Cheers to 2021. To a hopeful future, a new little sister, travel & parties & playgrounds & a fresh start. And yet still protecting that stillness...sacredly shared between us. 

I love you,

Mama

holiday bucket-list

our annual holiday bucket-list is here! christmas really is the most magical with kids and we love making memories with them. 

- go on a hot cocoa date with the girls

- make an advent calendar with christmas activities

- decorate the coffee shop for christmas

- make an ornament 

- donate toys

- go pick out a christmas tree!

- spend a quiet afternoon wrapping presents 

- make a christmas playlist

- kisses under the mistletoe 

- host a christmas party with festive food

- family nights at christmas town

- go get donuts and drive around to see lights 

- record Darcie singing christmas carols

- listen to Kacey Christmas on repeat

- watch Rudolph, The Star, It's A Wonderful Life, Little Women, The Holiday, hallmark christmas movies 

- listen to christmas records, add to the collection!

- make dried orange garland

- sister baking day

- go caroling

- make homemade chex mix

- oo and ahh at the christmas tree

- mom & dad annual "holidate"

- read twas the night before christmas on christmas eve!

- send christmas cards

- matching jammies!

- decorate a gingerbread house

life tips for my rothwell girls

Just some thoughts on a random Friday while I'm sitting in a coffee shop. Your Dad is home with you both after he told me to get some "me time." And of course I spend it thinking about you. About the lives ahead of you...what I wish for you to know, carry with you, cultivate. 

Here are some life tips from my heart to yours.

Rule your spirit.

You have what it takes to think clearly, exercise self-control, & rise above self-pity.

Make a bucket-list.

Give thought to the big & small things you want to experience in this life. You'll feel so satisfied when you check things off.

Send thank you notes.

It's a small yet thoughtful gesture that speaks volumes. 

Make faith, integrity, and courage the themes of your life. 

Do the right thing even when the right thing is hard. Always remember the one who gives you the strength in the margin. Don't fumble through with uneasiness, but instead rest EASY in the one who goes before you. 

Care about grammar. 

Learn the difference between they’re, their, and there. 

Lovers gonna love and haters gonna hate.

Let go of what people think of you. Love hard and without discrimination. 

Be slow to offense.

And quick to give people the benefit of the doubt. 

Strong is the new pretty.
Take care of your body, but do not obsess over it. Eat what you want without fear while always considering foods that fuel you. 

Make a habit of praying every morning for favor, anointing, and wisdom.

We've prayed it over you since you were born. You'll see doors open and God will give you the wisdom to know which ones to walk through.

Be others-oriented.
Make the nobodies become great somebodies. Don't underestimate kindness.

Know you're accountable for apologizing.

It's on you. Humility is important. Love keeps no records of wrongs.

Be teachable.
You're a student long after your school years.

Use your ears more than your mouth.
Listen, learn, think, observe. Wisdom lives there.

Find a man like your Dad.
I'm praying God replicates him just right for you. Be patient & don't rush into any relationship you don't feel peace about. And it's okay to openly compare him to the amazing men in your life...it just might provide some relief and clarity. 

Pay attention to your emotions. 
Feel what you feel. What is God saying through these feelings? Or in spite of them?

Let prayer do the heavy lifting.
Do not be anxious about anything...trust in your maker who holds it all together. Pray, pray, pray.

Laughter is medicine.

Be joyous. Smile whenever you can. Find people who make you laugh, refresh your mood, and lighten your load.

Be a leader, not a follower.

Don't follow the crowd, don't take your queue from culture. Don't let others determine your choices, your values, your likes/dislikes. The best leaders are great followers, but they discern the difference between who they should follow and who they should lead. 

Use your manners, common sense, and problem solving skills. 

This is SO important to your Dad. I know he will be a great teacher in these areas so you become ole pros. 

Friends come & go, family will always be family.

You've got a really big one and they're really the best. Never take them for granted.

Review & name your blessings.
Even the most common & ordinary. Gratitude gives you grace for what isn't & a contented grip on what is. 

Look forward to tomorrow.
No matter what happened today. Tomorrow is a fresh day with no mistakes in it yet.

Seek out people different from you.
Diversify your life. You'll be a better you if everyone around you doesn't look or think like you.

Be well-rounded & well-traveled. 

Go places, pursue hobbies, develop a skillset, value education, read books, watch documentaries, try new things, embrace new cultures, go on adventures, don't believe everything on the internet. 

Be a dreamer & a planner too. 

Find what lights up your soul, believe in yourself, make a plan, then a plan B and C, then work hard.

you're 3!

 

Dear Darcie,

My big girl. My first born. My intuitive helper. My summer baby. My fierce leader. My imaginative creative. My good natured conversationalist. My smart little cookie. My test of every nerve. My strong willed emotional roller coaster. My nurturing little mama. My future world changer. My adventurous wide-eyed explorer. My brunch buddy. My dance partner. My built-in coffee date. My muse. My side kick. My mini me. 

You were the little baby who would play with my hair and hold me close now you’re the threeanger who plays pretend and holds baby dolls and “blow-dries” your hair at your little pink vanity. Everyday you tell me you’re getting "bigger and bigger and bigger and bigger” while you stretch your arm up high. But you still have those chunky thighs and cheeks. My saving grace… the last remnants of baby Darcie. I dread the day when I can’t squeeze those round cheeks under those chocolate eyes. The day when you legs stretch tall and you’re at my eye level. Right now…they're things I can still touch and feel that bring me back to the moments I thought would last so long but faded like every summer when we celebrate your birthday and turn our eyes to the fall. 

Fall. The changing leaves. The vibrant colors. The cooler breeze. The pumpkins you love to pick. The bowls of chili you love to eat. My birthday. Reminders that I, too, am another year older. Time: wondrous and devious. It takes, but also gives. Gives reminders that we’re growing in tandem. Me and you. Me becoming more confident as a mother and more aware of what it takes to mother you. You more confidant in yourself and aware of what it takes to live here in this world. I ache with pride and worry as I watch you find your footing. You’re doing so well. You’re extraordinary and smart. You’re friendly and kind. On our walks you like to introduce yourself to everyone who comes along our path — even in a pandemic. “Hi, my name is Darcie James. This is my friend mama, dada, and baby sister. And I’m princess Darcie.” And don’t forget the shouting over your shoulder “I love you!” as the passerby goes on their way. You have an ease about you. Smooth. Assured. Like the sing-song way you respond to my questions with an easy-going “yeah yeah yeah” in a melodic descending tone. Like you’ve got this and you’ve not a care in the world. 

Baby girl, I know three will bring so much new, but I relish every part of you now. Your bronze skin and seeking eyes and the ringlets in your hair on hot summer days, your sandy bubble toes at the beach, your dance moves, your summersaults on the trampoline, your imaginary friend Gaga. I relish every simile that flows out of your imagination — and how you jump at sharing them with us (swimming like a dolphin, stripes on a shirt like a zebra, circles anywhere are like buttons, etc. etc. etc.)  I relish how you tell me “good job” when I do the most ordinary tasks at home with you and your sister. Somehow you know I need to feel seen. 

I relish your emotions — as much as they try my patience some days. I’m proud of you for learning them and leaning into them. You feel big and deep. Strong and wild. It’s a roller coaster for all of us, but we’re glad we’re on this ride with you. We’ll hold your hand and teach you how to navigate the challenges and strengths of feelings. You’re a powerful force. But also a gentle supporter. You care so much for others. Like the girl at the park you found crying and you sat with your hand on her shoulder until she stopped. Or the way you sense my emotions and ask me if I’m okay. Or the way you tell Banks to be happy when she’s crying and you pat her back even if it’s the last thing she wants you to do. 

 

What I love about you right now:

When you sing songs about Jesus, when you make up words to your favorite book, Flora and the Flamingo, when you call watermelon “watermelon sugar” because we’ve listened to Harry Styles one too many times, when you ask for Christmas or swimming when you’re bored at home. When you ride in your jeep and pretend to go trick-or-treating in the middle of summer, when you dance to the Hamilton soundtrack and get all the words wrong but still try. When you pick up Banks and tell me “I so strong!”, when you ride rocket-ship daddy to bed at night and giggle the whole way to your bedroom. 

Keep telling me you’re my big girl baby. Keep asking for Darcie dates. Keep saying your birthday is “julove twenty seven.” Keep playing pretend. Keep believing you can take on the world. You can and you will. 

xoxo,

mama

Moments from her 3rd birthday party:

 

 

  

 

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.