One Point Five.

Hey ya little stinker pants,

Happy eighteen months, buddy! One and a half years ... How in the world did that happen? Ever since that summer day in 2012 when you made me a mama, I have come to understand that all those cliche mama lines // you know, the 'I can't remember what life was like before you' and the 'I didn't ever think I could love someone so' plus the 'I don't remember the last time I showered' and the 'this is the most challenging yet most rewarding job of all time' // well, I've caught myself saying each of them, and I've gotta admit...cheesy as they may be, there is tremendous truth tied to those sentiments.

You were a game changer, bud, there's no question about it. Some days I think I'm going to burst because of your beauty and the joy that fills my heart by being your mom, and then there are other moments when I could cry from sheer exhaustion and frustration of it all. Regardless, every day, more precisely ever hour of every day, I whisper into your little ears how much I love you. I then slap a silly grin on mah face and tell your dad 'he's so cute' to which he now just rolls his eyes. He's heard it a thousand times, and will hear it at least a thousand more. Old news to him, but you are, Parkerman. Those big blue eyes, your feisty and spirited personality, your sense of humor and desire to make others laugh, your love of all things animal noises/airplanes/books/balls/baba/big bird/and milk, your mini Mohawk, your fatty cloth diaper waddle, your smile, your little fingers as they sign, your little voice as it speaks, and your animated actions and facial expressions communicate so much to us about who you are and what you're all about.

At month seventeen, just around your second Christmas, you gifted your dad and I with the most incredible present // sleep. Grandma now brags to all her lady friends that you're sleeping thru the night, to which I always, always chagrin. Sleeping through the night, you are not, and I am most definitely giving you a big, red pen circled 'F' in regards to your nonexistent naps....but it is true that on most nights, you now sleep four-ish hours consistently, and for that, we have promoted you to king of the castle. You like the crown and status, and we like sleeping long enough to actually experience a dream. On most nights, you're out at 9:00pm and stay quiet in your crib til midnight-2ish. If grandma Ann thinks that is sleeping through the night then I'd love to see her up with your wide awake self at 3am, 5am, and 7am. Somehow we've misguided you into thinking there's a halftime party happening during the wee hours of the morning, and your standing, screaming, and persistence in cheering until one of us tends to your needy needs is nothing short of impressive. And obnoxious. We often cuddle from 2am onward and you usually wake me up rearing and ready to go as the sun rises, with a smile and an enthusiastic 'dAda!' quickly followed by the milk sign. Please don't blame me when you end up in therapy. 

You're a silly, strong willed, and energetic little lovebug. You keep us guessing, humbled and very, very entertained. We love you so much, and we love you even more when you sleep ;) Keep it up, kid.

xo. Mama - who you still mischeviously call dAda

Life Lately // Winter Edition.

Cheese!

Our parental happy place.

 First day of swim lessons.

Soaking up the sun and watching ba-da's soar at the park.

Our new favorite lunch joint in Woodinville. 

Big Bird, forever and always.

Enjoying the nightlife with great friends at Purple Wine Bar.

Cheering on auntie Katie at the U.

'Soo...can we go back inside and watch Big Bird now?' 

Word of the Year.

I'm not one to set new years resolutions. Since becoming a mama, I have found that I tend to shy away from long term planning and instead prefer to take life as it comes. Rather than keeping a monthly or year-long calendar, I jot down daily hourly to-do lists, and don't allow myself to commit too far into the future. Actually, who am I kidding? These days I can't even find the sticky note to write the list, so my ISFJ has officially turned into an ISF. Motherhood has stripped me of my organizational skills and desire to plan away, hustle, and fill the days. So instead of committing to a new years resolution, I now love to choose a word to help guide and challenge my journey through the upcoming four seasons. To me, it seems practical, creative, simple, encouraging and realistic. 

And this year? My word came so very easily to me.

b r a v e : ready to face & endure danger or pain; showing courage. 

// I want to be a brave wife, who loves my husband fiercely and invests my best self into dating and selflessly supporting him, as he graduates from school and transitions into his residency program. I want to show courage in our marriage, as we continue to grow and evolve as parents, individuals, professionals and a couple. 

// I want to be a brave neighbor, wherever we land next; investing myself fully into another new community and opening up my heart to the new people and stories God brings into my life.

// I want to be a brave and confident mother, who doesn't sweat while my kid throws a tantrum in Target and the childless lady in our aisle offers up her best parenting advice. A mama who says yes more than no, and does not let fear or laziness dictate her decision making. 

// I want to be a brave voice in my community, speaking love while fighting for equality and justice.

// I want to be brave with our finances, living below our means so that our family can give generously. We don't know the Jones' and don't care to keep up with them in the coming year. 

// I want to be a brave traveler, encouraging my family to live  adventurously and spontaneously. I want to pack my bags, fly into the clouds with our toddler, and see new lands.

// I want to be a brave friend, who frees myself from comparison and brings authenticity, thoughtfulness, a hot cup of tea and encouragement into my relationships. 

// I want to be a brave believer, who prays with and for my family, and is unashamed to pursue my relationship with Christ.

// I want to be a brave artist, who creates and also risks in sharing that creativity with others.  

I want to be brave, and take risks this year in my relationships, my work, my heart, and my agenda. Will you join me? Or simply turn up your volume and rock out to Sara Bareilles' Brave for a few moments? To say I'm obsessed with this anthem would be a bit of an understatement.

So there it is, my word of 2014. Now, if I run into you in line at Target over the next few weeks, you've been warned - I'll want to hear your word of the year. Show me // how big your brave is.