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Life has been a blur since February 27. Baby Mae arrived, we moved, summer reached its stride, home renovations started, I blinked…and suddenly, unbelievably, the baby is 6 months old, summer is over, school has started, we are wrapping up nearly two months of reno projects this week, JSP’s busy season is in full swing, the air is getting cool and crisp, and we are entering another busy week full of very special milestones. This Monday felt like the perfect opportunity to stop, take a deep breath, and reflect on all of the Gold Stars that I’ve been blessed with of late. A tradition that, despite my best intentions, has fallen off my weekly to-do list more often than not in the past few months. I can thank my 4-year-old for this Monday edition, and for getting me back on track.

Since the move, our life has been happy. Calmer, more relaxed, and more organized, despite the craziness that typically comes with juggling a preschooler, a newborn, a dog, a new house, and a small business. Having Mike’s commute go from 3 hours to 6 minutes a day has been life-changing. We love our new space, and are enjoying this charming neighborhood more than we ever dreamed we would. Eloise loves school, and we are elated with every one of Mae’s new developments. We are trying to soak up every single second, acutely aware that THIS is THAT time of our life.

That’s not to say life doesn’t get overwhelming. That my daily to-do list isn’t seemingly endless and completely daunting. That tantrums don’t get frustrating. (I won’t assign blame for said tantrums. Sometimes I act more like a preschooler than my preschooler). That little annoyances aren’t irrationally blown out of proportion. I’m still only human. A very harried human who must look like a maniac to those around me most days.

But it’s the start of Fall. My favorite season. Our now is good. I don’t want to miss it. We. Need. To. Slow. Things. Down. Starting right now.

The other night was just one of those nights following one of those days. I was exhausted and grumpy by the time Mike and I got both kids to sleep, and I was not looking forward to the next day’s manic to-do list. Then I saw a piece of paper folded on top of my computer. It was an impromptu drawing that Eloise had made for me as I raced around in a bad mood cleaning up the kitchen and getting ready for bath time. She wanted to cheer me up. She did it all by herself…the idea, the spelling, the writing, the pictures, the sentiment, the sincerity. “Did you know about this?” I demanded of Mike. He nodded. Wow…I was so caught up being grumpy about mundane tasks that I didn’t even notice her drawing it. I couldn’t stop staring at the picture. I cried. I laughed. I took a deep breath. Perspective. Thank you, thank you, darling girl.

What’s the best way to slow things down when life is busy? For me, it’s focusing on the good that happens each day. Some days, the black dots might outweigh the gold stars. I might need to really focus to spot them. Sometimes they’re obvious, sometimes they need to be unburied. But they are always there.

Here’s to a good week!

*The fact that belly buttons are a prominent part of my 4-year-old’s portraits. That never ceases to make me smile!

*Bonfires. After years of discussing how much fun it would be, we finally bought a backyard fire pit. The air was crisp, the stars were out (Eloise was thrilled she could look up and see them, being so used to the city lights drowning them out), so we sat around together, and taught Ellie how to toast a marshmallow. We also learned she doesn’t actually like marshmallows when they are toasted. “You don’t want to leave yours in the flame longer?” I said.  “I like mine burnt.”   “I like them how I like them, Mommy. Very, very white.” (Read: straight out of the bag.) That was a good time! I can definitely see more fireside fun in our future.

*My Best Friend’s Wedding. Such a special time. Mike, Eloise, Mae, and I are excited and honored to celebrate with our dear friends Lachelle and Mike this coming weekend. I know a little Flower Girl who is so pumped she may not be able to sleep the night before. (Maybe one Matron of Honor, too, for that matter!)

*10 Years. Mike and I celebrate our own wedding anniversary this Friday. (What a cool way to celebrate, partaking in your dear friend’s wedding festivities, you say? I wholeheartedly agree!) Our wedding feels like a lifetime ago…or maybe a few lifetimes. Those were different people who walked down that aisle 10 years ago. But I’ve been thankful every single day since then that it’s Mike who is still walking beside me, holding my hand through better and worse.

It’s looming once again. The anniversary of the worst day of my life. The day we lost Hannah. I’ve been dreading it’s arrival for weeks. The old panic returns with the anticipation, despite constantly reminding myself that it’s just a date. It changes nothing. But the threat of having to relive those events again in detail more vivid than usual is enough to set me on edge. Every day we honor Hannah. Every day we think of her and miss her. She is constantly with us in our hearts. That will never change. But on that day, we just need to put our heads down and get through it. Time eases pain and subdues panic. Every day but that day. On that day, even two years later, the hurt returns fresh and strong. A reminder that although we keep living life, although we found a different path to happiness, it will never be OK. We will never be complete. It will get easier to include Hannah in our family once Eloise and Mae are older and understand. Eloise was thankfully too tiny to understand what happened when Hannah passed. There will be a time in the not too distant future to tell her. So she and Mae will grow up always knowing about their sister. So Hannah can give them the same gift of strength and compassion and perspective that she has given me and Mike. But that time is not now. Not while Mae is still so fragile and it will be so scary for Eloise to comprehend. I already know it’s going to bother her so much. I can shelter her just a little bit longer. It’s a conversation that will be a huge relief to me…and also one that I am dreading with all of my being. So many emotions. So much swirling around September 4.

So, what are we going to do on Sunday? What is there to do. I bought her flowers. We will stay busy. Distracted. We will do something as a family. Stick together and hug each other a little tighter. Try hard not to think too much. Journal. Drink some wine. And then on Monday, the unbearable hurt will be replaced by the normal dull ache, and life will resume with our new normal once again.

I love you with all of my heart and soul, Hannah.