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For the past three years, we have vacationed in Marco Island, Florida.  The beach is one of my favorite places in the world. It’s my happy place. The place where I can breathe, reset, and regain perspective. I don’t think I’ve ever needed to feel the ocean breeze, hear the crashing waves, and sink my feet into the soft sand as much as I did last week. Not that the trip didn’t come with some amount of trepidation. When we visited last April, the month before we discovered Hannah’s birth defect, we were blissfully happy and looking forward to returning this year as a family of four. Was it hard returning just the three of us? It was devastating. But my Hannah continues to surprise me. She was with us every time I found a sweet little shell in the sand. She was there in every beautiful pink sunset. I am so thankful we had that vacation with her at the seashore last year. I’ll forever be able to share my favorite place with her, and she will be part of every trip to the beach in a special way.

This year’s beach getaway was wonderful and happy. There were so many gold stars, it’s hard to list them all. Eloise is the beach bum I always dreamed of, and alternated between splashing around in the pool and making sand castles at the beach. We spent hours riding the waves and floating around in the ocean. She couldn’t have been more joyful while finding shells, drinking smoothies, and chasing after her water ball as the sun set. It wasn’t the relaxing beach getaway we used to enjoy, but we had so many laughs. We witnessed adorable moments between Eloise and my parents (love that you’ve been sharing this tradition, Vovo and Vu!). We enjoyed perfect weather and ate an abundance of seafood. I already can’t wait to go back next year.

You are my sunshine. My only sunshine.

You make me happy when skies are gray.

You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you.

Please don’t take my sunshine away.

*Just take a moment. It was a cold and rainy, grumpy week. Filled with tension and dentist appointments, potty
training “adventures” and an abundance of toddler angst. (Lots of mommy angst, too, if I am going to be completely honest.) Right up until last night, I was grasping for the Gold Stars that were buried in all of the routine BLAH. Mike reminded me of something someone told us before our wedding day. That we should take a moment during the day to stop and look around us. To take it all in. To try and capture a memory of how special it all is before we blink and miss it. It was wonderful advice then…and it definitely applies to this time in our lives, too.

* “I’m just a little black rain cloud! Hovering over the honey tree.” One day this week, Ellie was under the weather and refusing to nap. Frustrated and exhausted, I found The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh on Netflix…and Ellie was captivated. I haven’t watched that movie since I was a little girl and was surprised at the warm memories it brought back.

*Singing in the rain. Yesterday evening, Eloise found an incredible amount of joy in a new umbrella, and turned a cold
drizzle into a fun game. I hope I can remember the sound of her innocent, carefree giggles for the rest of my life.

*The power of a well-timed hug. I refuse to complain about our adventures in potty training on this blog. Because I want to respect Eloise’s privacy. Because of the heavy new perspective Hannah gave me for how tender a subject it is for special needs situations. For a lot of different reasons. So let’s just say we are having success…and it’s the typical process, complete with all of the standard growing-pain aggravations. Some days, I feel like I don’t have a moment’s peace. I feel like I am losing my mind, and no amount of chanting, “This too shall pass! This too shall pass!” can restore the energy and patience I’ve lost. Yesterday was a doosey. Then, once I reached my breaking point, Ellie threw her little arms around my neck and said, “You’re the best of all! I love you Mommy.” I’m not going to lie and say that made up for my overflowing store of frustration and exhaustion…but it definitely took the edge off.

* “Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning to dance in the rain.”