little black journal

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.

This baby is due in six days.  Six.  Such a small number.  And so I’m doing my best to enjoy this last stretch of pregnancy.  Notwithstanding the acid reflux, and the back pain, and the weird sensation of my organs being pushed around by our squirmy kid, I feel good.  Thankful.  Surprisingly energetic.  And just the tiniest bit sad at the thought of no longer bring pregnant.  It’s hard to believe it’s almost over.  So when I found out that Nance’s friend Lea is working on getting her photography biz started, I asked if she’d be willing to do a little shoot with Shane and I, to capture this precious, fleeting time in our lives.  We spent last Saturday at the Olympic Sculpture Park with her, memorializing week 38.  A few favorites:

And just think…bump pics will be baby pics any day now!

Another summer weekend bites the dust. Literally! We headed to Poulsbo Saturday morning with the Rust clan for the World Concern Mud Run – a 5k obstacle course riddled with sloshy mud puddles, organized to raise funds for clean water projects in developing countries. Here are our fresh, clean runners, pre-race:

Mid-race:

And post-race – check out these dirt-caked studs! Crawling in the mud isn’t something Shane would typically pay to do, but he registered for the race out of a desire to channel his inner “fun guy” and support and great cause. And he embraced the event with such gusto – I’m pretty dang proud of him for stepping so far outside his comfort zone for this one.

That said, he was still given strict orders not to touch me until he’d rinsed off! Nance gave Jason the same orders, but he couldn’t resist trying to sneak in for a kiss.

The kids were a little bummed to have missed out on the run, so they staged their own mini-race once the guys were done. Gryffin was off like a bullet before I could say “Ready, set…”. He’ll be giving Shane and Jason a run for their money in the not-too-distant future!

We ate burgers on the lawn and then spent a couple of hours hanging out by the lake. Shane and Isaiah shared one of their precious buddy-buddy moments while Jason shot off the end of the monster water slide.

Sun-soaked and sleepy, Shane and I crashed for awhile when we got home, ordered pizza for dinner, and then watched the Giants beat the Diamondbacks. Pretty stellar day.

Today was Jack’s turn to show off his stuff – Shane, La V, and I headed down to Seward Park this morning to watch him crush the SeaFair triathlon. With hardly any training and a new-baby sleep schedule, he killed it! We celebrated his victory back at their house with banana bread french toast and mimosas. This whole spectator thing I’ve got going on is pretty great – no pain, all gain!

Shane and I came home and conked out again for an epic nap. Unfortunately, we both awoke feeling stuffed up and groggy – Shane is officially under the weather and I’m fearing that what I thought was allergies is actually a cold. We cancelled our afternoon plans for a visit with our newest baby friend and instead holed up inside to drink OJ and watch baseball. Felt like such a waste of a perfect summer day, but I’ll do what it takes to put myself quickly on the mend – pregnancy is tiring enough on its own these days and sick time doesn’t figure well into the packed few weeks I have left at work. Thus, I’m heading to bed early tonight (while it’s still light out!). G’night, all.

Happy Fourth, indeed.  I love me a mid-week holiday, and we made this one count.  Shane met up with the guys early this morning for a bike ride and run, and I enjoyed a leisurely morning at home, doing a little baking and catching up on the latest Princess Kate news via the Today Show (have you ever seen a smaller 9-month baby bump?!).  Shane came home around 10 and we and drove over to Jason and Nancy’s for a brunch bonanza – mimosas (gosh, I miss champagne…), breakfast sandwiches, and several hours of doting on Jack and La Verne’s sweet baby Nico.  Shane can be pretty intimidated by the fragility of newborns, but once he was finally coaxed into taking the baby in his arms, his fears waned as his heart-strings were tugged.  That’s one crazy-adorable little boy.

Shane has been complaining lately about his limited wardrobe, and I had a Banana Republic coupon I couldn’t bear to waste, so we headed to the outlets in the afternoon to get my man some new duds.  He scored big – one pair of jeans, two button-downs, and four t-shirts for $120!  I seriously lamented the fact that they don’t have a maternity section.  Although technically, I suppose I could be wearing Shane’s clothes these days – I’m quickly closing the weight gap between us!

After an impromptu test drive of a Prius V at the Toyota dealership (we were in the new car market for all of 45 minutes, but that quickly passed) I spent the evening working on our nursery mural.  Per my typical overly-ambitious tendencies, I grossly underestimated the amount of time this project would take, but it’s nearly done and it looks good.  Our kid better like gray and white.

Shane made tacos for dinner and I sighed a contented sigh as I put my feet up, propped my plate on my (festively clothed!) belly, and gave thanks for good friends, for good food, for a blessed day off.  Happy Independence Day, folks.