little black journal

The Mr. and I celebrated our eighth wedding anniversary on the 20th.  Eight years ago we were honeymooning in Costa Rica, enjoying a chance to sun-soak and snorkel and recharge.  We were looking forward to making a home in our cozy Capitol Hill apartment, thrilled that from there on out, after several years of dating long-distance, there would be no more wishing each other good night over the phone.  It felt like such an enormous gift, getting to go to sleep with Shane by my side.

Eight years and one baby later, I’m dearly cherishing going to sleep, but I’m afraid the “with Shane by my side part” fell off my gratitude radar some time ago.  I get swept up in my roles as architect and mama and orchestrator of all things domestic, and I forget to remember how lucky I am that I get to be Shane’s wife, too.  We enjoyed a little marital reboot on Tuesday as we ventured out of the house sans baby for dinner and drinks at our new favorite Mexican joint.  Jack and La Verne hooked us up with their amazing baby sitter for the evening, and although we spent the short drive to Georgetown anxiously wondering if Juliette was still sleeping, and then wondering what she would do if she woke up crying and a stranger came into her room to soothe her, and then wondering how long the baby sitter would wait to call us if she couldn’t get Jules to stop crying, and then wondering how quickly we could get home from the restaurant if we got the dreaded mayday phone call, once we were seated at our table and sipping our first round of margaritas, we were asking each other why we don’t get out together more often.  We savored our chile verde and chorizo tacos and we focused fully on each other as we checked in and reminisced.  And we came home to find that Juliette had snoozed through the whole thing, crisis-free.  A complete date night success!

Happy anniversary, buhb.  You are a better husband, father, and friend than I could have ever dreamed of.

More and more, our weeks are developing a natural rhythm: Monday-Tuesday-Wednesday are busy-busy-busy with work and daycare and lots of rushing about; Thursday is my treasured me-and-Jules day; Friday I squeeze in a little work from home before getting together with my mama friends and their babies; Saturday Shane and I often pull “shifts” and take turns hanging out with the baby while the other person gets out to run or shop or spend time with friends; and finally there’s Sunday, on which we cap off the week with lots of quality together time and a little Schnell family adventure.  Sunday is our fun day.

Last Sunday we headed east to check out Juanita Bay Park in Kirkland.  Shane had read that the park is a great place to spot wildlife, teeming with birds and beavers and turtles, and that guy loves him some turtles.

The woods were damp and mossy and bright yellow-green, on the verge of fully bursting with new growth.

Juliette dug it.

And so did Shane, thrilled to find a band of turtles sunning themselves on a log…  Although I’m sure Jules had no idea what she was looking at, it was pretty fun to watch her papa excitedly point and say “look, baby!” twenty times over.  When I think about all this girl has yet to discover, all the new experiences we’ll bear witness to, my heart swells with anticipation.

Today was downright balmy with temps approaching 70, so we packed a bag full of snacks and set out for Luther Burbank Park on Mercer Island for some serious sun-gazing.  We staked out a spot on a perfect patch of shade-dappled grass and watched the boats go by.

This is the face of a girl that was born at the start of Seattle’s rainy season and has just discovered that warmer, brighter skies exist.

We walked out on the dock and then hit the playground for a quick spin on the swings.  Far too soon, it was time to head home for naps – we’re adding this park to our list of good-weather favorites.

Sunday, Sunday, SUNday.  So good.

In addition to my annual list of resolutions, I like to choose a word to dwell on throughout the year.  Last year I prayed that I would make myself vulnerable to a deep, fervent hope; this year I’m looking outward a little more, feeling called to be more fully present for the people in my life.  I’ve mentioned before how easily I can get sucked into my task list vortex, where the measure of a good day is based more on productivity than on quality time with friends or family.  The arrival of Juliette has clearly brought to light the necessity of recalibrating my priorities, putting my nearest and dearest above my to-do’s.  That baby of ours needs (and deserves) all kinds of attention.  And while she’s not shy about letting me know when she’s hungry or poopy or just wants to be held, what about those other times, when she’s sweetly content to just lay on the floor and suck on her fingers?  Is that my cue to rush downstairs to throw in a load of laundry, then hustle around the kitchen to get dinner ready?  Or is it my cue to pause, to throw a couple of pillows down and lay right next to her, to chat with her and tickle her toes while she coos and babbles?  Some mornings, when she’s especially easy-going, I find myself just shuffling her from room to room as I go about my own routine, propping her up in her chair in the bathroom while I blow-dry my hair, dropping her in her bouncer in the kitchen while I unload the dishwasher and make breakfast, putting her down on her playmat while I eat and check email.  Before I know it, it’s time for her first nap and I’ve entirely missed my morning window for snuggle sessions and playtime.

I threw out the sleep training guidelines the other day and let Juliette nap in my arms after she nursed.  As I laid my hand on her belly and gazed at her peaceful face, rosy-cheeked where she had been nuzzled in the crook of my arm, she grabbed my finger in her chubby little fist and gripped it tight as she slept.  It felt like she was asking me to stay awhile, reminding me that our quiet moments together are precious and so quickly fleeting.  And the time I spend with her, singing silly songs and smothering her with head-to-toe kisses, it matters.  It matters that I’m present for her.  It matters that she knows she’s more important than housework or blog posts or emails.  It matters that I daily speak words of affirmation and positivity over her.  And when she responds to my undivided attention with a happy giggle or an extra-close cuddle, it’s apparent how much those dirty dishes in the sink and those crumbs on the floor really don’t matter.

So I’m being more there for Juliette and she’s flashing me her winning smiles and I’m making good progress on this resolution, but I fear there’s another member of our family that’s a little short on lovin’.  Remember Shane, who used to stand front and center in my weekend updates and my travel posts, who used to by the object of all my gushing?  There was a time when I couldn’t wait to get home to him after a long day at work, to enjoy one of his extra-special bear hugs and dish on the day’s ups and downs.  Don’t get me wrong – I still can’t wait to see him in the evenings (my daily 5:00 “when r u coming home?” text message is evidence of that), but it’s usually so that I can toss the baby in his direction and enjoy a little space to myself, because I am beat.  I’ll take a breather and watch from the sidelines while the two of them play, then summon the last of my reserves for bathtime, bedtime, and dinnertime.  By 8:00, I am physically and emotionally zapped, wanting nothing more than to zone out in my own corner of the couch with my laptop or my knitting while Shane queues up House of Cards.  It’s hardly what you would call “quality time” for the two of us.  So I’m working on digging deeper, asking real questions rather than muttering an obligatory “How was your day?”.  I’m taking him up on his offer when he pushes himself against the back of the couch so that I can stretch out alongside him while we talk or read or watch Parenthood.  I’m reminding myself that although it takes effort, although it goes against my natural inclination to hole up and turn in, the restorative power of intimacy ultimately lands us in a much happier place.

These two have brought me such great, heaping boatloads of joy.  May I be a wife and mom that daily returns the favor.

Shane and I usually use Valentine’s Day as a great excuse to treat ourselves to a fancy dinner, a night out on the town with wine and ultra-rich food and maybe even a bouquet of roses.  Last year I had to pass on the wine, as I was ten weeks pregnant.  This year we had to pass on the fancy meal altogether, as Juliette hasn’t yet learned the art of fine dining.  And at first I told myself I really didn’t care, that Valentine’s Day has become a silly Hallmark holiday anyway, but the truth is that I felt a little pang of disappointment when I realized that we were facing another day of the same old, same old, that I wouldn’t be getting all dressed up or having creme brulee for dessert.  The days of lingering over a two and a half hour meal feel so long gone.  Then again, parenthood has not necessarily relegated us to complete hermit-dom, so we were able to get a little creative, to make the most of the fact that Shane had the day off and celebrate a family-friendly v-day.

We started the morning at Benaroya Hall for the Symphony for Tots program – we were joined by Juliette’s little buddies and loved watching their wide-eyed wonder as the women on stage led them on a “musical safari”.

We stayed close to home that afternoon, lounging about and playing a rousing round of 90’s “name that tune” via Spotify while Jules nestled comfortably into papa’s lap.  First the symphony, then Ace of Base – this kid made great strides in her musical education yesterday!

We were joined by the Rust crew for dinner at Tutta Bella.  It was a far cry from a four-course French meal, but I welcomed the chance to take a break from cooking and catch up with friends.  G and Z (who isn’t pictured below, as he would rather hop in puddles than pose for a photo!) made us a couple of very sweet valentines, and when G asked Shane if we had valentines for them, Shane responded with a very convincing, “Oh no!  We left them at home!”.  G took him at his word, so Shane and I are doing a little crafting this morning to make up for his fib and will be making a special delivery to the Rust boys later today.

After we tucked Jules into bed last night, Shane and I cuddled up on the couch to watch a bit of the Olympics and a movie.  I asked him if he missed the romance, if he thought we had lost that lovin’ feeling.  It had been a fun day, but I couldn’t shake this longing for times past.  Memories of our life before kids flitted through my head as I yawned, looked at the clock, and realized it was only 8 pm.

“Remember the days when we could stay up late on a Friday night, knowing that we could sleep in until 10 am on Saturday if we wanted to?”  

“Remember when we ordered our first bottle of wine at that nice restaurant in Morro Bay on Valentines Day of 2003?”  

“Remember when we used to travel???”

(pause)

“Remember that time earlier tonight when Juliette giggled like crazy as I wiggled and sang?”

Lord knows I’m a sucker for champagne and chocolate and sleep-ins, but damn it if that silly girl doesn’t win every single time.

When Shane looked out the window on Saturday evening and exclaimed that it was snowing, I kept my enthusiasm to a minimum, as many of Seattle’s snowfalls don’t amount to much more than a bunch of dirty slush.  But those fluffy flakes fell faster and faster, and by the time we went to bed that night the neighborhood was blanketed in a thick coating of pristine, white snow, set against a dark purply-orange sky.

It was fun to wake up yesterday morning to a winter wonderland.  Despite the fact that there wasn’t anywhere we really had to be anyway, I was still swept up in that giddy sense of freedom that comes with a snow day.  When Juliette awoke, I brought her into our bed and the three of us snuggled together in our warm nest of blankets and looked through the window at the bright white world, reveling in the promise of a lazy day at home.  If ever there was a day when it would be acceptable for me to stay in my pajamas until 2 pm and drink copious amounts of tea and coffee and hot chocolate, this would be the day.  A day dedicated to a whole lot of glorious nothing.  But then Juliette needed her diaper changed and then Shane decided he wanted to go outside and my hopes of spending the morning in bed were shot to hell.  Those ten minutes of quiet hibernation were nice while they lasted…

And so I rallied, obliging Shane’s request that we go for a walk through the greenbelt across the street and grumbling just a little as I changed out of my flannel pj’s and bundled up the baby in her warmest duds.  Although I looked longingly at my french press on the counter and the twisted pile of blankets on the couch as I pulled on my boots, I’m going to concede that Shane was right in urging us outside.  It was beautiful out there.  Frosted trees and untrodden trails and a perfect stillness, save for the crunch of snow under our boots.  Juliette happily chattered as we walked, her face wide-eyed and rosy-cheeked.  It’s fun to think that next winter she’ll be toddling around, ready for snow angels and snowmen.

We spent the rest of the day snuggled up inside with books and blankets and mugs of hot tea.  Jules took a monster nap after lunch, which allowed Shane and I to snooze as well, so I kinda ended up getting my lazy wish after all.  Sunday afternoons are heretofore dedicated to family nap time (are you reading this, baby?).

I woke this morning to the sound of pouring rain; the only remnants of our snow day are a couple of small patches of slush and a half-loaf of the pumpkin bread I baked yesterday.  Maybe that’s part of the magic of these Seattle snowfalls – one day you’re walking through woods cloaked in white, and the next day, poof!  It’s gone, gone, gone…

Rather than host our annual New Year’s Eve bash, we rang in 2014 with takeout pizza and our latest Netflix rental.  Ok, so technically I rang in 2014 with a bunch of Z’s, as I had already been in bed for an hour when the clock struck midnight.  I wished Juliette a slightly belated Happy New Year at 3 am when she awoke to eat, and then muttered the same to Shane when I slipped back into bed.  No champagne toasts, no fireworks, no Carson Daly…I missed the fanfare a little bit this year, but our quiet nights at home hold their own kind of charm.

We brunched with the gang yesterday to kick off the year, gathering at Jason and Nancy’s for buttermilk waffles and a walk around the park.  So I guess we party at 10 am now, instead of 10 pm.  No shame in that!

We spent the rest of the afternoon at home, playing with Juliette and then dozing during her afternoon nap.  Jules has teased us with a couple of brief giggles lately and seems to be on the verge of all-out laugher, so we’re constantly making fools of ourselves in front of her, trying to elicit a chuckle.  Despite all our dancing and blubbering and raspberry kisses, she held out yesterday, but her smiles were a pretty great consolation prize.  And Shane and I certainly do plenty of laughing at each other in the process, so there’s that.

The year is off to such a joyous, cozy start.  And yet, there’s a part of me that’s a little melancholy.  2013 was so, so spectacular – will it ever be topped?  I mean, there was this:

And this:

And this:

And this:

And this:

And this:

And this:

And this, New Years Day 2013, when we toasted to the good news I’d just received from the doctor’s office: lil’ Schnell was on her way!

I’m sure 2014 will hold adventures of a different sort.  I don’t foresee any helicopter rides over Kauai, and camping might be tricky, but there will be excitement in watching our baby grow, there will be precious time with family and friends, maybe a mini-getaway or two.  And there will be laughter.  Lots and lots of silly, unbridled laughter.  Happy, happy new year!

The sentimental-ist in me is big on family traditions, and now that we’ve added a kid to the mix, I’m even more intent on maintaining certain annual rituals.  Our yearly trek out to North Bend to cut down our Christmas tree tops the list of favorite Schnell family traditions, so on Friday we donned our warmest winter clothing and headed east for our eighth (!) visit to Mountain Creek tree farm.  I still remember our first time there back in 2006, when we were newlyweds giddily buying our inaugural Christmas tree as a couple.  The woman behind the counter asked as we paid if we had any kids that would like a candy cane.  We both laughed and told her “No, thanks”, unable to imagine how a child would fit into the fancy-free life we lived in our small Capitol Hill apartment.  That same woman has asked us that same question every single year, as our nervous “No thank you’s” slowly morphed into anticipatory “Maybe next year’s” and then into pained “Still not yet’s”.  And now, here we are, in the midst of below-freezing weather with a child that often throws fits in the car, but dammit, I wanted a candy cane, so off we went!

Juliette fell asleep within minutes of hitting the road and opened her sleepy eyes just as we rolled into the parking lot.  Shane and I bundled her up, crossed our fingers, and set out in search of the perfect tree.  Usually this search takes a good 30-45 minutes, as I insist that we wander the entire farm to get a complete sense of our options.  I’ll narrow it down to three or four contenders, circling each tree several times to evaluate symmetry and fullness before making a final decision.  But once we stepped out of the car on Friday, felt the cold, and heard Juliette’s little whimpers, we were on a mission.  Fifteen seconds into our search, I pointed to a tree that I said I liked, and as I was turning to find the best angle from which to snap a photo, Shane was already hacking away at it’s trunk and slinging it over his shoulder.  I didn’t even have time to yell “timmmmmber!”.  Jules and I hung out by the wood stove in the front shop while Shane tied the tree to our car; he joined us for a quick cup of cider and then we were back on the road in record time (candy cane in hand!).

Thankfully, despite our impulsiveness, this tree is a beaut and looks great in our living room.  I unwrapped my ornaments yesterday while Juliette sat in my lap and I told her about the plastic snowflake I’ve been hanging on Christmas trees for over 25 years, about my collection of angel ornaments, about the beaded green bird I bought in Portland with my mom a few years ago.  I’ll be carrying on the tradition my parents started by giving my own daughter an ornament every year, and as I hung her pretty glass owl on the tree, I pictured Christmas next year, when we’ll have to hang these breakable ornaments high and out of reach of toddler hands, and Christmas a few years from now, when Jules will start to look forward to opening up her box of familiar ornaments to hang on the tree, and Christmas a couple of decades down the road, when I’ll hand over Juliette’s collection to hang on her own tree.  I guess that’s what I love about traditions – the way they bring forth good memories of years prior and anticipation of years future.  Happy holidays, indeed.

We had a joy-filled Thanksgiving, complete with a quiet morning at home, an afternoon walk in the perfect fall weather, and a belly-bursting evening  meal at Jack and La Verne’s.  My plate literally overflowed with blessings.  We have so much to be thankful for, in our home, our friendships, our family, and our sweet little babe.  Juliette somehow got wind of my previous blog rant and has been making amends the past couple of days, with smiles and long naps and a generally sunny disposition; she was a trooper as we made the meet-the-baby rounds at my office and Shane’s office on Tuesday and was great company when I lugged her to Costco and Trader Joe’s for pie fixin’s on Wednesday.  Today we laid on the floor together and chatted for over an hour, Juliette responding to my nonsense rambling with sweet oohs and ahhs and mmms until our eyelids began to grow heavy and we both fell asleep, her serene little face just inches from mine.  Best nap ever.  I’m so indescribably thankful for this girl, for the ways she’s taught me to give and love and hang tight through the tough stuff.  I’m thankful for Shane, who fills in the gaps when I’m short on patience or sleep, who is unabashedly silly for the sake of making Jules (and me) smile.  I’m thankful for this blessed up and down and up, up, up life we live.

Yesterday was the last day of Shane’s paternity leave – say it ain’t so!  I have loved having him home these last few weeks – not just because he takes the 6 am feeding shift, but because the three of us have such a good time hangin’ out together.  We made the most of his last week off, getting out (nearly) every day with Juliette for afternoon strolls at our favorite parks or lunch dates at our favorite restaurants.

A new walking trail just opened up in the greenbelt across the street from our house, so we headed out during a sunbreak last Tuesday to do some exploring.  It’s beautiful in there – thickly wooded and so quiet, save for the chirp of birds above or leaves crunching underfoot.

Despite gray skies and a forecast of rain, we drove over to Kubota Gardens on Wednesday, knowing it would be one of our last chances to take in the park’s fall colors.  We walked along the meandering paths, stopping every so often to snap a photo or give Juliette a close-up view of the bright red maples.  It sprinkled on us a bit, but we paid it no mind – we considered it Juliette’s crash course in Pacific Northwest living.

Shane’s mom arrived in Seattle on Friday morning, and after a quick snuggle session with her newest granddaughter, the four of us headed over to the 8 oz. Burger Bar for lunch, followed by a walk around Jefferson Park to burn off those truffled french fries.  Juliette snoozed through most of the outing – she wouldn’t open her eyes for a family photo, but somehow knew to wave to the camera!

We took advantage of Sunday’s sunshine for a walk along the water at Lincoln Park and then lunched at Geraldine’s Counter.  Again, Juliette snoozed…  Car seat crying was minimal this week, knock on wood!

We laid low the rest of the day on Sunday, hanging out at home and doting on this happy girl.  Juliette certainly sprouted her little devil horns from time to time this weekend, but for the most part, she was good to her grandma, cooing and smiling and wrapping yet another family member around her little finger.

Shane’s mom left for Minnesota yesterday morning, and Shane headed out the door promptly at 7:30 this morning to return to work. So it’s just me and Jules today, flyin’ solo…  Wish us luck!

I have known for a very long time that Shane would make an amazing father, but I’ll admit that I initially questioned how comfortable he’d be with the newborn phase.  He’s like a magnet for toddlers and bigger kids, with his willingness to crawl around on the floor to play cars, or to toss a ball back and forth for hours on end.  But babies typically haven’t been his specialty – he was always shy about holding our friends’ little ones, unsure he had the proper head-supporting technique or spit-up damage control.  Diaper-changing was foreign, unnerving territory.  Newborns were fragile and intimidating and unable to speak Shane’s love language of “play”.

And then Juliette was born.

Sweet Jesus, this guy is a natural.  From the moment he first took her in his arms when she was less than an hour old, his ease and grace as a father was evident.  It took all of 2 days for him to become a diaper-changing pro (though he did panic a bit when that first big blow-out left him with a poop-streaked t-shirt).  He’s king at soothing her when she’s really fired up, bouncing her on our exercise ball and crooning his silly made-up songs (Juuuuuuliette, is on the ball, bouuuuuuncing, up and down…).  And damn, he’s just really, really good at loving her.  I’m seeing this different kind of tenderness in him, this knows-no-limits selflessness and vulnerability.  When Juliette was just a few days old and waking from one her epically short naps, I watched Shane on the baby monitor as he lifted her from her bassinet, and the softness of his voice murmuring “hi baby, it’s okay…” was new and heart-achingly sweet.  Sometimes I sit and stare at the two of them together, him shushing her quietly and stroking her hair while she drifts off to sleep in his arms, and I want to laugh and cry and fall on the floor under the weight of all our blessings.  So cheers, dear papa!  I know that Juliette isn’t old enough yet to understand just how lucky she is, and I know that some days you feel like a big bouncing robot as you desperately try to get our daughter to sleep, but remember that every minute spent on that dang exercise ball, every goofy song you sing, every sweet word you whisper – they’re all forming the little girl that will one day experience the comfort and confidence that comes with knowing she is fiercely, fiercely loved.