watermelon seeds in my bed.

long grass clippings in the yard, they make a perfect play nest for play babies.

rumply baby bed head.

sweaty neck rolls and fat tiny toes.

coconut oiled girls all covered in grass and sand and sun.

tan lines showing up in the gritty bath water.

big huge giant play-date turned parties turned deliriously (sleepy) happy babies.

my responsibilities.

coconut cake and a baking buddy.

a baby in my bed.

party dresses everyday.

long long hair and how good it feels when it’s all brushed out.

I have felt drained. Aimless and quick to anger.  A friend posted a status about the things we do for others, and what have we done that day as a gift to someone else.

I was stumped. Because in my day it was all me focused. How can I get a break? How can I do what I want? How can I …… ME?

And I felt that gut pull. That resolution tingle. That need and call for action. Then later that night a sweet Mom posted in our local Mom group, she posted about her baby having GERD, having a long hospital stay, crying for hours upon hours, her sweet little one who shares a name with my daughter, she reached out and put everything aside for love. She asked for milk. Milk that is dairy free, soy free, sugar-caffeine-gluten light, she asked for a tall order. And so many Mamas answered.

Mom’s with liquid gold frozen in the deep freeze from the days of elimination diets, and sensitive newborns. Mom’s with babies who fall into the same intolerance’s, Mom’s who are stretched and willing to bend just a little further. And Mom’s who are willing to make some diet changes to start to pump for this baby. Basically, this Mama reached out and there were hands to meet her.

This weekend the Internet seemed to be extra… internetty. Like, people were even more bold behind their screens than typical. That words were slung without thought even more aggressively, that people were just… extra… mean.

Her post was the reminder I needed. These groups do good. The people in them want to do great BIG things. The Mamas are there. The Mamas answer. And we all just keep giving, because we have been given too.

On that note; send me your favorite dairy/soy free recipes please. Stuff that is easy! What blogs should I be reading? What recipe books are best? Who has a pin-board FILLED with this stuff? How can I make it financially feasible? Help this Mama out. Cause we are embarking here.

Embarking into a new food world, a new outlook on giving in this new year (Give, just give. Don’t question it, just give.), and meeting some heart resistance- as always. This will be my year of Embarking. of Hold On Tight. CHANGE.

Last year, and almost every year, I start January and feel like God is really pulling me back to him. To routine. Regime. Consistency. Last year I knew that my ‘word’, focus, goal, resolution,  whatever, was Contentment. And that really did mark my year. We fell more in love with our marriage, our kids, and our “lot”. We weren’t aching for change or grasping at new job opportunities (like the previous year). We were setting into a new normal (heyo baby #2!) and remembering and being washed with a new understanding of contentment with where we are and what we have.

This year I expected the same. A call to read through the bible, or to have a very set quiet time, or to… something. Instead? I feel the need for that relationship to grow (obviously) but the calling that seems the loudest? I feel like God is telling our family to Hold On Tight. This is a big year.

I have no idea why. I have no idea what that could really mean. And, I hesitate to put it out there because… well, what if nothing happens?

But thats where we are. And it is uncomfortable. I feel as though I am leaning and tipping, lurching and catching balance; Just getting ready to hop on the biggest roller coaster.

So, whatever it is. Here we go.

“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” To this day, especially in times of “disaster,” I remember my mother’s words and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers – so many caring people in this world.”

-Fred Rogers

After the shooting that quote sprung up everywhere, and I couldn’t read it without tears. I found peace and comfort in looking for the helpers. But I also find hope and joy in choosing to be a helper. Having a cause to fall into during the wake of this tragedy, a time of year that is rife with the reality of others poverty and struggling, and a time where the need to get pulled out of my own selfishness is huge. The giving tree has been a lifeline; a project to put positive effort into, a way to take the weight of sadness for the grief and robbery of joy from those families and try to give some joy back into the family community.

Last year a giving tree sprung up organically from the Mama Network I help to moderate in my town. This year it grew, and grew, and grew. Last year our tree served 33 kids. This year? 95. Last year we raised $400. This year? We raised $867+ and the Black Drop Coffee House (who was instrumental in the whole endeavour and housed the physical tree!) matched this donation and in total we raised $1735. That money went directly into gift cards for the Mamas of the kids on the tree. It is obvious that the needs are huge, but the piece of this tree that is so epically beautiful is that the desire to help is even bigger.

Today I walked down a long set of stairs and into a cozy basement. White Christmas played, mimosas and bloody Mary’s were mixed, and Moms who previously only knew each other’s profile pictures went from “friends” to friends. The room filled with bags (and bags and bags) of gifts and warm bodies, tiny babies, and huge smiles. This room was bursting with Helpers. Bellingham, my town, is overflowing with Helpers. These Mamas wrapped bags and bags of toys and donated their time, energy, and tape to this cause.

95 kids worth of gifts were given, and these gifts were sweet. They weren’t generic, they weren’t used, they weren’t junk. These gifts were thought about. Bought by awesome Moms, sweet kids, incredible people who choose to give out of their poverty instead of clinging tight to possessions. They were given by customers who dropped in, city counsel men, loving baristas, thoughtful 20-somethings who picked their tag off the tree carefully. They were given by loads and loads of Helpers.

This year our tree grew. Tonight 19 families came and picked up their gifts, tomorrow 30 more will  come. And Christmas morning there are going to be some very merry children.

A dear friend told me she had picked up a tag from the tree. A 9 year old girl. She chose her gifts carefully, cute clothes she would want to wear, headbands that would go with each outfit, and books that she had treasured when she was 9. I wrapped those gifts today and nearly lost it thinking about how incredibly special this wholly unknown bond would be. This girl will never know my friend. She may be old enough to know these gifts didn’t come from Santa, or her Mom, but from an earth angel who took the time to care, give, indulge, and pour over her.

This little (not so little) tree is giving me a place to be a Helper. A place to look and see that there is so much good. That there are countless people who want to help. That there is huge need in this community but that it can be matched by huge generosity.

Thank you Bellingham. Thank you for being packed to the gills with the good ones. The Helpers. I love my community.

Well. . . big news about whats growing at our house. (NOT a baby, better not be a baby.)

Charlie is opening up an online shop! He has long been making me whatever I see on pintrest or cute boutiques and it is time we share the love around. He has pretty much given up all side fun projects, alone time, or hobbies for the past three years (duh, kids!). But  we have recently had this just laid out in front of us and it seemed more than foolish to turn down the opportunity ( he has 8 orders already placed and can’t wait to get started)! We are SO excited about this budding little family business.

For now we have a facebook page where you can message us to place orders or post a picture of something you would like and we will give you an estimate. New items will be photographed, priced and added often and keep an eye out for some awesome Holiday Gift ideas too!

Come and give him a “like” and you will then be privy to new shop additions, giveaways, sale items and be able to help us get an idea of what you would want to buy for your family.

Everything in the shop will be made from reclaimed or locally sourced materials and will be handmade by Charlie.

Come checkout our little space!

So, when we decided we wanted to have kids I knew that there were lots of things that would die along with that choice (and tons of new life too, but some death would accompany that). I knew that I would lose out on sleep, ‘me time’, my ideal body, time alone with my hubs, etc. The reality? It was a bigger slap in the face than I could have imagined. I had been told about the sleepless nights but experiencing them was a new kind of unimaginable hell (my first was a terrible sleeper from 4mo on). The new body? completely caught me off guard and is taking a ton of work to change and love. Lack of alone time? It shocked me with the first and feels almost normal now with baby number two.

But, I am happy. Really, exceptionally tired, and happy. Thankful. Filled. Loved and focused on my kids first, for now. They rocked my world and reshaped it, as well they should have! They are tiny, needy, helpless infants in the grand scheme of things. Even now that one is firmly rooted in her kid’ness and the other into her ‘babyhood’ they are both SO. young.

All that to say. My expectations were stupid and the idea that you SHOULD sleep through the night, have time alone (with yourself or your husband), that you DESERVE to keep your own body, etc. etc. etc. Those are all expectations that I needed to let die for at least a few years (seems like three or so). They are rife with entitlement and don’t take into account the dying to self that we need to do for God, love and our kids.

There will be endless time to sleep, workout, date and be alone. For now, I am giving it up and letting those things fall in where they may (a Saturday morning break here and there, a run alone in the evening, an hour long date because that’s as long as that baby can be happy without me for, etc. The time is there even if I don’t schedule it.)

I am finding love in family dinners. Romance in a family date. And relationship, love and long conversations, can be forged even when there is a nursing baby between you.

This time is short. So, so short. Ever is a tiny (itty bitty, brand new) baby. And her needs should trump mine. So for now, (and likely for always but it won’t be such a draw), she is the trump. Nolie is the trump. Boundaries are set, limits are there but the default? yes! the default is an emphatic, Yes!

Will you play this? Yes!
Will you rock me? Yes!
Will you help me sleep? Yes!
Will you nurse me? Yes!

Yes, my darling girls. When you can articulate these needs in words and when they are only cries (the one way you have to communicate sweet Everbee), Yes!

Hey, did you know my page has a facebook? And I post lots (maybe too much?) there! You can click the link to the right or just go here.

You’ve missed stuff like this. . .

butternut squash soup + a recipe!

real life tandem nursing pictures (can you spot Nolie?)

no heat curls are back! Holiday parties and all that jazz- momstyle for the win!

Come and “like” me to see more!

My Dad meeting Nolie for the first time

Age 14: We bumped up and down in the little black truck listening to oldies. Songs that my friends would never know  but I was lucky enough to enjoy. The clock would tick past the first bell and my Dad would scribble a note “The car wouldn’t start on time” and we would head into the coffee shop drive through. Not a moments hesitation to be a little late and have some extra time together.

Age 18: Freshmen year of college I was homesick. Very homesick. 11pm on a Thursday “I need to come home.” 1am…my parents pulled up and I rode home. Monday morning I went back to class and nearly weekly after that the cards started to arrive. Funny pictures, serious encouragement, things he was proud of me for, stupid puns, one liners; love letters. They didn’t stop for two years while I learned to live on my own.

Age 25:

“Grandpa is coming into town today! Should we invite him over?”

“YES, yes!! And I will show him my book, and my play house. I want to live at Grandma and Grandpas HOME!”

Dad,

There are endless memories and vignettes to tell that show what an incredible Dad you have been. I am blessed to have a myriad of memories from tree house building and soccer games, to walking me down the isle and witnessing me in labor with my second baby. You have been there; cared and complimented, loved and encouraged and parented me with humor and respect. I am so thankful for you.

Happy Fathers Day.

Love, Autumn

I am throughly in love.

six weeks:

first smiles

first cloth diaper

staying awake for an hour at a time, impressive little lady.

two and half: 

first full week potty trained

first time getting her own clothes out of the drawer and putting them on by her “ownself”

singing, dancing, and joy of all joys-

sleeping through the night.