After three years of wife-hood and two years of mom-hood
I've realized these days go fast. This is by no means a new idea.
While pregnant, the phrase "It goes fast!"
was the choice morsel of wisdom that ended almost every conversation.
There were times where I thought to myself,
"yea, it doesn't go so fast while waking up every hour to go to the bathroom
and crawling on all fours because of sciatica!"
Yet, ever since Isabelle turned two this past August
those three words have been emerging in my own thoughts.
So, I decided to start keeping track of life.
I want to remember the dailiness of our life, not just the big moments.
My hope is that through journaling and posting pictures,
we'll be creating a way to share and remember "our days."
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This was one of Isabelle's first days.
She was about four weeks old here.
Having entered this world six weeks early,
Isabelle's "first days" (first months really) were difficult.
My brother Teo took this picture during a brief time we had with her at home.
She had recently been discharged from the hospital
and was about to be readmitted.
Amidst the worry-induced blurriness
that clouds some of my memory of that time,
there are also many moments I remember vividly.
Being captivated by Isabelle is vivid in my mind.
I remember thinking countless times,
"My gosh, its as if grace itself is embodied in her precious eyes."
This picture captured that for me.
And when I look at it, I still experience that same gift of grace.
Thank you Teo, my talented and gifted brother.
We laugh a lot.
And these days
we find ourselves inspired
by the everyday.
Many times it's because of something Isabelle says.
Here are some of those stories...
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"Car Ice Keem"
This past summer, Patrick and Isabelle developed a...tradition of sorts.
One evening in early June, some friends of ours
invited us to meet them for ice cream.
We met at a local soft-serve ice cream depot/diner called "the K."
While I knew how much Isabelle enjoyed it,
I wasn't aware how much Patrick enjoyed it.
For the rest of the summer, unbeknownst to me,
Patrick took Isabelle there any evening I was gone.
He kept it under wraps for quite a while until one evening
Isabelle said, "I yike you Daddy!"
I said, "what things do you like about Daddy?"
Her reply was, "Car ice keem!"
I looked at Patrick a little puzzled and he looked at me with a half grin.
The "K" is about twenty minutes away.
In toddler time- that's a bit of a car ride.
So, it was that day that their covert trips to the "K" were found out,
and their special Daddy-Isabelle tradition became known as,
"Car Ice Keem."
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This is a series of pictures taken
while teaching Isabelle how to smile on command...
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"Rie-here"
So the other day, Isabelle and I were sitting on the floor in her room playing.
I said to her, "Isabelle, I love you thiiiiiiiisssss much!"
(we read the book "I Love You This Much!" quite a bit)
Then I asked her, "Isabelle do you know how much I love you?"
She said with a big nod of the head, "Yep!"
"How do you know?"
She replied, "Riiiiiiiiieeeeee here", while pointing to her heart.
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This fine piece of photography was taken by Laura Buffington on her phone.
While the quality of the picture isn't the greatest,
the moment she captured is.
Isabelle is about 7 or 8 months here.
While shopping at Gymboree, I had her try on these glasses.
Apparently she was instantaneously inspired.
The moment the glasses touched her face, she struck this pose.
Laura, with her quick handed phone slinging skills, drew-slid-navigated-and clicked.
Its kind of alien-like I know,
but is soooo hilarious.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Isabelle Hardin wearing Gymboree couture.
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"Socially Acceptable Poo-poo Games &
Isabelle's Earnest Woes"
Having been to many baby showers, I know that unlike most other social gatherings,
poo-poo is not taboo-boo.
In fact, many of us who have been to a few
can most likely say that we've shared in a rather
poo-poo intense baby shower ritual.
The ritual generally involves the following:
sticking noses in - staring discerningly at - and discussing at great length
the consistency, color, texture, and contents of 10 or so "dirty diapers."
All of this is done in great hopes of getting
a travel size bottle of bath and body works lotion.
While this definitely falls under my idea of "funny"
and could provide a great deal of fodder
for discussing the sociological and behavioral
issues of us Moms and Moms-to-be,
this story is not about
the "Guess what candy bar is melted in this diaper" game.
Rather, this story is about the "whose water will break first" game.
(poo-poo and water breaking?...
...one would think that momhood is just downright gross...
well, it does have its moments.)
Anyways, the game goes like this.
Each person gets a little tiny baby.
The baby is made of rubber, is flesh colored, with a little dab paint for hair.
The baby is handed out in a cup and frozen in the center of an ice cube.
Whoever's ice melts the fastest and releases the baby, wins.
Isabelle wasn't too interested in the game initially.
But once the ice started birthing babies, she was immediately engaged.
Isabelle loves anything tiny.
Tiny bugs, tiny raisins, a tiny plastic pellet
that she randomly finds in the corner of the living room (different story).
Anything that's tiny, Isabelle loves and tends to like its a little baby.
So, tiny rubber babies?
Great in Isabelle's world.
After gathering multiple tiny rubber babies, Isabelle became suddenly
intrigued and concerned about one specifically.
I noticed her holding the baby up close to her eyes
and her brow furrowing increasingly.
After much intense pensive examining,
Isabelle abruptly yells,
"Oh no!"
I tried asking her what was wrong, but she was so distraught
all she could say was, "Oh no! Oh no! Mommy!"
I pulled her in close and said, "Isabelle, what is it? What's wrong?"
She pointed to the babies head, and with a saddened look on her face
said, "yook Mommy."
"Yook it. A poo-poos on hoo head!"
After consoling her and explaining that
the brown stuff was the baby's hair,
I shared the crisis with some of the other ladies.
While the mix-up was pretty funny,
we all came to a similar conclusion as Isabelle:
the paint job did resemble poo-poo more-so than hair.
And furthermore,
...poo-poos on the head would indeed, be cause for great concern.
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"One Liners..."
Me: "Isabelle, why aren't you eating your dinner? Did you not like it or what?"
Isabelle: "What."
Me: "I love you Isabelle"
Isabelle: "I yah you too Mommy."
(not funny, but so wonderful)
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An Isabellican-English Dictionary
Choo-choo-twee. -n. : commonly known as a christmas tree.
Hi is-a-belle. -adv. def. playing make believe. origin: 2007. Phrase originated from Patrick
and I making puppets from Isabelle's stuffed animals and always starting pretend playtime with "Hi Isabelle!" usage: Mommy? Play hi isabelle?
Aus. -adv. def. out. origin: german. Patrick is German and his Mom, Eleonore, watches
Isabelle twice a week. We think Isabelle has picked up a few German words from her, 'aus' being one of them.
Dad-dy, Mom-my, Ba-by. -adj. def. 1. descriptives for something really big, kind-of big, and something very small. origin: the imagination. Isabelle, ever since she was a year old, has
categorized inanimate objects that vary in size into daddies, mommies, and babies.
usage: "Yook Mommy! A Daddy pwetzel and a baby pwetzel!"
or, (one my personal favorites)
"Awwww. Yoooook. A baby booger."
Dad-dy, Mom-my. 2. -pron. the names Patrick and I love to be called by our little girl.
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