pink picket fence

{ holiday tour } The Guestroom and the surprise appearance of an afghan

This is the slowest home tour ever.  My apologies... I've been preparing for company!

My folks are flying in later today, so this is already getting some use.  This guest room is in the basement.  One side of our house is walk-out level, so we were lucky to finish this room with bright full length windows.  Makes such a difference.

I got these three little linen trees thrifting last year.  They are perfect on the window ledge.

The afghan is a work in progress.  I'm using up my yarn stash (left over from the nursery's granny square afghan) on this king-width simple striped blanket that may take me the whole year to complete.  I've been adding a row or two every night since Thanksgiving as I'm watching shows with the mr.  It's ridiculously soft and I can't stop myself from bright pops of hot pink.  Some rows are single crochet, some are double.  It's completely random and I love it. 

 

Next up: the kitchen!  Which means I should finish the slipcovers for the chairs. Ahem.

{ holiday tour } the playroom

(Thank you so much for the sweet comments. That deer was quite possibly the best spent $6.  Local KC friends, I picked it up this past weekend at a west bottoms first weekend vintage mart event -- have you been there yet?)

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I thought I'd start the holiday home tour in the playroom because it is 1) pink and 2) clean.

It is also home to our pretty pink tree. The girls love it, and it really is the best showcase for all of the princess and barbie ornaments they have amassed over the years. The room faces the front of the house, so I was more than happy to put a tree in one of the front windows.

This is also the perfect spot for handmade art.  I love projects that showcase little feet, fingers and toes.

 

I picked up this little santa thrifting a few years ago.  He is busy flying around the world in his old toy truck.

The storage unit was a craigslist find last year.  Best purchase ever. 

I picked up Alicia Paulson's Santa Lucia dolls kit a few years ago, too.  These little girls make me smile every year when I take them out of the box.

You can kind of see the striped flat/satin wall treatment Ipainted when this was still an office.  This space serves us much better as a playroom, even if it is directly to the left of the front door and is usually a disaster.

The glow of a pink tree is totally, 100% like none other. 

Amen.

{ december }

I'm feeling quiet these days.  Words are a jumble. I'm keeping my hands busy by decking the halls and making cheer for our girls. Sarah suggested that I share a little of my busy-hands therapy, so I'm going to start a holiday home tour.

Unfortunately, my house is not photo ready.  So how about I tease you with two shots of new-ish stuff and just promise to be back later when the rooms are picked up?  Because that's all I've got.

(I picked up this little guy a a vintage market downtown yesterday.  He fits right in.)

The playroom has a cotton candy pink tree. It (and the tiny pink glass birds that I picked up at the dollar store 4/dollar) make me smile.

 

{ first }

Five years ago, The St. Louis Cardinals won the World Series on my husband's 35th birthday.  We had bought tickets and driven 4 hours to see them clinch the title.  I thought it was a once in a lifetime kind of experience.

It was.  Until the night of his 40th birthday, when they won game six in one of the most dramatic and exciting games in franchise history. 

So we bought tickets for game 7 and drove across the state, once again marvelling along with the rest of the world at how crazy it is that the Cards could pull it together this season.  (And at how charmed my husband's milestone birthdays are shaping up to be.)

You know the end to the story.  St. Louis won the game and the city celebrated. 

Freese will never have to buy himself a beer in that town.

There was much rejoicing.

It wasn't really about the game for me.

2011, you've been one crazy dramatic year.  I won't be sad to see you go, but Friday night was superb.  It felt so good.

xo

{ hello }

I have good days and bad days.  By good, it means I've had a day with few tears and plenty of smiles.  I see people and talk to friends and feel productive.  Meals are cooked and laundry is done and I check things off the to do list.

On other days I turn inward and it's not pretty.  The rest of the world has continued on with life and mine is forever changed.  I haven't yet figured out what the days are supposed to feel like. 

It's tempting to curl up in a ball under the sheets and just let it out.  I journal a lot.  I cry a lot. 

Today I went to visit the children's memorial butterfly garden for some quiet.  It was 70 degrees and sunny, a gorgeous fall day. Darcy's brick was installed a couple weeks ago.  It rests on a brick path surrounded by trees and native plants, just past a vine-covered arbor. It is a beautiful spot.

I sat on a bench and listened to the waterfall.  There were families playing at the nearby playground. The sound was bittersweet.

{ p.s. }

(This month I am also posting over at habit .)

{ love } the healing quilt

Thank you. Your comments and emails mean so much right now.

It's been seven weeks since we lost our baby and I am still going through the motions of daily life in a fog most of the time.  I have to concentrate just to remember what month it is. Or the day of the week. I'm already failing miserably with back to school deadlines and have what seems like fifteen alerts set up on my phone so I don't forget simple things like meeting Fidget at the bus after kindergarten or taking my medication. 

For one minute things seem better and then I spy a newborn baby girl or hear a song on the radio or smell something that would have turned my stomach while pregnant but doesn't anymore because, well, I'm not. And then I am plunged into the deep again, head spinning and emotions in full gear. 

I have also been moved to tears by the kindness and generosity of others.

While on a much-needed getaway with my husband on the Oregon Coast last week, my dear friend, Sarah, and her family met us in town for dinner.  We were staying at her family's cabin and I was already indebted to her for hooking us up with such a great spot at the last minute.

Not only did they make a 90-minute drive to have dinner with us one night, but she surprised me with one of the most beautiful gifts I have ever received.  In the weeks since I had lost Darcy, Sarah and some of my closest crafty friends from all over the country had collaborated to create a quilt for me and my family.

Oh, the tears.

The word 'surprised' is totally inadequate.

So is the word 'beautiful'.

And 'thoughtful'.

And 'meaningful'.

Some of the blocks have butterflies -- in the print or in shape or, even, embroidered.  It was quilted with a butterfly pattern.  And our names are embroidered in the quilting as well.

As you can imagine, I am still overwhelmed by this generous and thoughtful gift. On the other hand, I am under strict direction to make sure this thing gets used, so I have it in my living room on the sofa for everyday use. Its presence is a gentle reminder of the love that surrounds and lifts us up. The girls are obsessed with finding their names in the stitching and it has already served to cuddle and nap, to crawl upon and hide under, as a tent and, today, as a giant Fidget Burrito.

Every time I open it, I notice one more detail.

The words 'thank you' are so ridiculously short of what I need and want to say.  I love this quilt.  I love the women whose hands and fabric stashes reached out to hug me the only way they could.  I still don't feel deserving of something so big, but I am so very grateful for their love.

Sarah has written a beautiful blog post about how the quilt came to be, and about blogs and friends and the universe. You should read it.

So, this post is my thank you to all of them.  My dear friends... Sarah Jackson, Jade Sims, Grace Snow, Erin Harris, Cathy Gaubert, Beki Lambert, Laura Capello, Lori Hanson, Alicia Alferman, Amy Harding, Michelle Needham, Emily Demsky, Sarah Brundage, Lisa Clarke, and Stacy Dinkel.  Thank you.  We love it.  I love it. 

The quilt also came with an original watercolor card painted by my friend, the sweet and talented Heather Smith Jones.  I cannot tell you how thrilled I am to have a third piece of hers in my house... you betcha I'm framing this one, too. 

It was quilted by Tillie Studio and I still marvel at how she got our names in there. Beautiful.

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I'm looking back through this post shaking my head.  It's not enough. I need to shoot each square and post them in my flickr album so you can see who made what and appreciate each block individually. Later today, perhaps, when the sun is out and the light is better.

For now, I have a date with Spunky, a cup of coffee, and a comfy spot on the sofa. 

xoxo.  Love is all you need.

{ missing } Darcy Jaye

This is a hard post to write. And it may be hard to read.  But I am at home today for the first time with all of my girls at school and I find myself alone.  Thinking.  Consumed and obsessed with needing to get this out and, at the very least, document this critical time for me and my family.

Just six weeks shy of our due date, heavy and miserable in the midwestern 100+ heat, I rolled over in bed one night and noticed someone didn't readjust herself with a few stretches and kicks in her little 'geez, momma, I was all comfy and now you flipped me over,' way like she usually did. 

And for the first time in 4 pregnancies, I got nervous. 

I got up and ate a spoonful of nutella.  Nothing.  Orange Juice.  Nothing.

What followed was a nightmarish visit to the hospital at 3am, panicked nurses and an ultrasound that revealed to parents their greatest fear.  No heartbeat.  At that point I lost it in a fit of what can only be described as primal screaming and sobbing. We had lost our baby girl with no warning.  Nothing.  Just the day before she had played with her sisters, kicking and punching them back as they tickled and poked at my belly.  She had danced a little jig with my morning half-caff coffee.  She stuck her little bottom up and out so I could really feel it with my palm.  She was head down and strong.

And then a stupid knot in her cord -- a knot no one knew about, and couldn't have --just got too tight.  And just like that, in one horrible accident, she was gone. 

I am not going to horrify you with the details of inducing a stillbirth when your cervix is not ready.  Or driving to the hospital with your husband knowing and not knowing what the next 24 hours will hold for you. She was born at nearly 5 pounds, with chubby pink cheeks and long fingers like her littlest big sister.  Short fuzzy blond hair and a button nose.  A perfect little angel taken much too soon.

I will tell you that the care and compassion that we were blessed to receive is beyond anything that we could have ever imagined. That the hospital staff at St Luke's provided the most gentle and respectful care imaginable. That my doctor showed such strength of character that I'd take her in to battle with me.  That my nurses grieved and prayed and struggled right along with us.  That our friends and family and total strangers stepped in as living, breathing, examples of true Grace and lifted us. 

It is during a tragedy like this when you see the beauty and generosity of the human heart and it is humbling.  We have not felt alone. We don't have anger.  Our hearts are heavy.  Explaining to a five year old that her baby sister is in Heaven isn't easy.  Getting back to school, emptying the dishwasher and doing laundry seem mundane and necessary and impossible all at the same time. 

We held a beautiful memorial service at our church and asked that no one wear black.  My daughters and I all wore white and the sanctuary was full of pinks and purples and blues and corals and light.  It was a 6:30pm service and the sun was beginning its descent through giant stained glass windows.  My amazing husband got up and poured his heart out in a beautiful message to our littlest lost daughter.  I don't know how he did that, but I love him even more now than I ever thought I could.

We sang 'On Eagle's Wings' and 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow', which is a song he has always sung to his little girls at night.

After the service, we asked everyone to join us on the hill above the church for a butterfly release.  There were a lot of children and it was wonderful.  We released 60 monarch and painted lady butterflies.  There were children everywhere -- trying to catch them, trying to release them, chasing after them.  It was a beautiful sight.  The day had been thundery and dark, but for that evening it had cooled.  The sky was turning pinkish and was glowing with that 7:30 glow that is happening this time of year.  Surrounded by family and friends and butterflies on that beautiful night, I felt a genuine Peace.  We all did.

(photo: Gina Ellerbee)

And now I sit.  My body is recovering from childbirth, but my heart is broken. I struggled with whether to post about Darcy, but I had to.  I have celebrated all of my girls here in this strange public journalish space.  My littlest deserves that, too.  We held our precious angel for 3 hours and kissed her fingers and toes and forehead and button nose.  She was beautiful and ours.  And someday I will hold her again.

Until then, we are comforted knowing that we have our own angel waiting for us. 

{ happy } two

How behind I am around here.  We're so busy having fun and vacationing and running about... it's all good.  I've never been a huge fan of the summer because of the heat, especially coupled with the humidity here in Missouri.  But something has changed in me this summer and I'm welcoming the lazy-fun-sweaty-forehead-sundresses-and-flip-flops change of pace. 

Today is super super hot, so I decided to camp out in the basement on the computer for a bit.  So, while I'm at it...

Spunky turned two a couple weeks ago.  She chose all of her pink finery.  I swear, I just let her loose and this is what happened.  At least she comes by it honest.  (Which continues to be a favorite saying of mine, even though I know the grammar is all wrong.)

We made our own ice cream and entertained some family and a couple friends... squishing our shindig in between dance recitals.  Never a dull moment.  (Poufy garland from party city.  Allow yourself 5 minutes per pouf; it's a timesucker.)  Note to self: Get rid of that dratted tin can that has housed the dog food since 2002.  It has no business in mah new kitchen.

Spunky is all about dressing up and being a pin-sass.  After opening this gown from my parents, she put it on over her nightclothes and wore it the rest of the day.  On your birthday you can do that.

I swear I can't make this up.  The best reaction - aside from the princess gown and a new pair of sparkly flip flops -- was because of LIP GLOSS.  Which she has never used or owned.  She sure knows how to use it though. 

note: it does not come off easily with baby wipes, no matter how much you try.

At about 1:30 -- a good 30 minutes after naptime and lots of simulation overload -- we brought out the cake.

It was no lip gloss.

We sang "Happy Birthday."  She cried and refused to blow out her candles.

Fantastic.

Oh the horror of a birthday.  I know, sweetie... I've got a big one coming up next year.  I might cry, too.

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I am feeling bad about the blog thing.  Maybe she's run her course. I'm not ready to give it up right now, but I'm finding it harder to make it happen on any kind of regular basis.  Could be that it's summer.  We're wrapped up in the delicious freedom of jumping in the car with little to no preparation and staying up late because we can.  I am feeling as big as a house, but that's ok. We are busy busy busy and having a wonderful time.  I know in about 12 weeks all of this will make a giant 180 and we'll be wondering what hit us.  (Um, kindergarten and another baby will be be the answers... but remind me, because I'll be in a fog.) 

For now, I'm going to take a lazy approach to things around here.  We'll see what happens.  xo

(oh, and the kitchen is theeez close. promise.)

{ new beginnings }

No, the kitchen isn't done.  Everything is hinging on one piece of granite that needs replacing and there is a domino effect from there.  Kind of discouraging, but it will get done.  Leaving us in limbo for while isn't the worst thing in the world, and I'm still going to have a beautiful space when it is done.  And so I am thankful.  No whining here.

Today is my littlest's second day of part-time childcare/daycamp.  She and Fidget are going twice a week this summer.  Initially, we thought this would make a good transition, since Fidget will be go to Kindergarten in the fall and Spunky would officially start part-time preschool, just in time for the new baby's arrival. 

That little Spunkster, just two weeks shy of her 2nd birthday, never looked back.  She walked right into her classroom, sat down and was ready to go.  The school has rarely seen such a smooth first day.  For someone who has never been out of my sight for more than an hour or so unless she was with family, she sure adjusted well to a full day on her own.  She spread her wings and never looked back. I still don't know whether to cry or applaud her.  Little stinker.  She is such an easy going, positive ray of sunshine, I never should have worried. 

Today I'm taking my eldest to the DMV for her driver's permit. Changes, changes everywhere.

Even Fidget gave up her special (disgusting) baby blanket this week

My girls.  They are growing up whether I like it or not.

The two day per week break is giving me some time to make some lists and tackle some projects before baby arrives.  Hopefully that means I'll have more time to stop by here as well... and perhaps have some progress to share.   It's time to get back on that horse.  xo