My Rowan Tree

This stout little man… his brothers shadow, his mama’s constant hug, the most gentle soul, a super hero, his daddy’s biggest fan, the boy with the saddest sad face and the most contagious laugh, and soon to be middle child is officially three.  Three.  What happened?  Oh, so much has really.  Four homes for the little boy, lots of adventures and travel, lots of cuddles, and lots and lots of laughs.  He has given me the most precious hugs and his words melt my soul.  He has given us maybe a handful of full nights sleep since his birth and more public tantrums than I can count on both my fingers and toes.  Oh, but he makes up for it with his big soft cheeks, his sincere apologies, and more love than I could have ever imagined being given.

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The day was glorious and sunshiney.  A perfect day to celebrate my Rowan.  When it finally arrives, we did purchas him a Rowan Tree (Mountain Ash) to watch grow and climb and swing from one day.  But really, all he wanted was cookie cake though which of course I could commit too!  Nothing like 5 dozen miniature little chocolate chip cookies to cover a whipped cream topped vanilla cake!  And the little cupcakes were as adorable as the birthday boy himself.


And now I have a three-year old and four-year old to spend my days with.  How cool is that?  Happy birthday Rowan!

29 forever

364 days left of my 20’s.  A decade marked in moves so vast they seem like different lives.  A decade of true humility.  Of change beyond reason.  Of diploma’s and a marriage testimonial and birth certificates and other official papers.  Of giant hikes and giant leaps of faith.  Of birth and new-found strength so deep inside me I couldn’t have predicted it existed.  And of drunken nights and drunken bike rides all the same.

The first half and the second half are nothing if not polar opposites.

Oh, I sit here while my youngest son makes raspberries on my leg laughing like sixty and I couldn’t imagine having done a damn thing differently.

Having skipped over any sort of grown up life in between kids and being a kid, I think (and hope) that I was able to keep some of that inside me.  Some of that unbelievable laughter and at times laughable believing.  Running outside to let my chickens out before the sun comes up, getting my feet all wet with morning cold is still awesome.  Singing Fat bottom girls at the top of my lungs and all the other amazing Queen songs that go with it, the whole way home brings me back.  But, the truth is I never left.  The woods are still magic.  The sky still surreal.  The ocean still so giant and glorious it’s scary.  I hope these are not just childhood things, but grown up things alike.  I hope that others feel this way too.  Because it feels so nice.

My birthday fell so perfectly on an evening that the monthly Savannah Ladies Dinner Club meets up.  (If that is not fancy and grown up and screaming almost 30, I don’t know what is!) After spending the afternoon (my boys graced me with a dual 3.5 hour nap) trying on outfits and actually brushing my tangled mane, I was itching to get out the door and wander the streets of the city.   As soon as that glorious hunk of man who I get to call my husband pulled in the drive, I quietly escaped for an evening of my own.

A few hours of thoughtless window shopping, discovery of eleven dollars in my jeans pocket followed by an immediate stop into a tea shop for an ounce of cinnamon plum tea and some crystalized ginger to munch on while I strolled, then a glass of wine and a few chapters later;  Nine sweet mama’s met up with me for a shared meal.  Mountains of mushrooms prepared in ways I can’t explain, brothy saffron rice that made your eyes close without thinking about it, and to top it all off, the restaurant sent me out a chantilly something with chocolate mousse cake that just made me swoon.

 Upon coming home I kissed all three of my boys and crept into bed chatting with                                             my love about nothing much.  

A simple day I wouldn’t mind repeating.  And the wonderful glory of it is, I get to.  

three years of love

To go back in time and re-live the day your first child was born year after year, going through each step, tearing up at the marked time on the clock that they entered your life, is so sweet it is painful.  My little boy, for that is just what he is now, no longer a baby boy, but a little boy, is three.  Oh, how he has taught me.

There is no change in my life that that I can envision doing more good for my soul than his presence in it.  He has given me the grace of mindful living, the slowness and beauty of discovery, the letting go of expectations needed for ultimate patience, and the compassion and power of love.

Three years and three very different lives we have lived in his life span.  Each year somehow brought us a new home, in a new state, with what felt like a new child.  His growth and spirit seemed to morph each day as I am sure it will continue to do so.  From the high desert in Arizona where he was just a babe aweing us with first words and first steps, to the blustery lands of northwest Pennsylvania where he made snow angels and friends, to the southland where he has become so incredibly aware and fascinated with the world around him.

Each year on his birthday, we have had a small celebration with the friends we have made in the short time we have lived in that particular location.  

And each year I feel the strength of the universe in those friends.  We have had the pleasure of meeting so many people, good people, through our boy.  Having children doesn’t stop your social life, I promise you.  It changes it, but in no way does it stop it.  The bond that you make with a mother, as a mother, is something I could not have predicted would be so utterly important and undeniable.

And oh, to see them play.

Three is certainly bittersweet.  I love him growing, but does it have to be so fast?  

  Happy Birthday my boy.  I love you more than roses love the sun.  

twice around the sun

So, officially twice around the sun my little boy has traveled.  Its been spectacular so far, everything everyone has said about it just getting better and better has come into fruition.  I really do love him more each day. Except when I don’t of course… if you know what I mean:)  We have not the extra zeros in our bank account to purchase the big ticket items nor the desire really.  Miles is happiest when trying on our shoes or playing “fishing” with a stick or taking the cushions of the couch and making a trampoline.  So, I decided to make Miles a little something with the old Singer.  I am new to sewing you have to understand, and absolutely appall directions.  I choose to follow them in a… non-traditional manner.  Well, this sometimes has its benefits but if appears in sewing the majority of the time it does not pay off at all.  But, I took off and decided that what I had in mind I could certainly create. My little boy loves to jump up and play with Mama’s oh so tempting craft table and sewing machine.  While I don’t mind as long as I am assisting him, it becomes dangerous when unattended.  Miles needed a “Miles space” so I made him one.  Easy as pie.  I just gathered some material I had on hand and went at it. I learned quite a bit too I may add.  I believe he will truly love it.  Lee found him the little hammer and ruler second hand which I know he will adore.  I filled the crayon slots, gave him a pair of scissors as this is one of his most favorite hobbies, and filled the large section with construction paper and library books.

I love you more than roses love the sun little man.