Our family, from May.

 ^^lately, Hugo has been "vrooming" his trucks everywhere, which is the most endearing thing in the world for everyone but Gus.^^
 ^^yesterday morning, this kid catapulted himself off of our couch and landed face-first on his toys, which resulted in an anxiety-provoking gash between his eyes. but will you look at him? HH is a champ. he does his own stunts.^^
 ^^too close for comfort, per usual.^^
 ^^and a date night, in honor of it being warm enough to eat outside!^^
 ^^my grandparents got Hugo a little pool for his birthday, which he has enjoyed climbing in and out of 356 times. that's the actual calculation.^^
 ^^mah babies.^^
 ^^and more wagon rides! we can't get enough!^^
 ^^the other morning, I caught Gus snuggling with his stuffed animal (L'il Sebastian). a rare sighting, and one that always comes with Gus's guilty look.^^
 ^^this, from a morning run. mornings around here are just unreal.^^
 ^^and one more from Hugo's birthday spread. thanks to my mama and MIL for helping us cook/bake/microwave!^^
^^would you believe that the farm down the road has a rather serious donkey festival each year? we saw it in the flesh (err, fur? hair? I'M HILARIOUS.), and forced our offspring to pet this mangy creature.^^ 
 ^^please tell me we can pull this off for at least 10 more years.^^
 ^^more of the Park, going overboard on charm.^^
^^this loveliness, from a client event.^^
 ^^and some post-birthday cleanup. now that he's one, he needs to start pulling his own weight around here. 
but in all seriousness, he's definitely pulling garbage OUT of the trash in this photo. can't remember what, but i'm sure it was something disgusting and difficult to clean off his hands. he has a special eye for those ;)^^


Little red wagon.

With the onset of warmer weather, we've been traipsing all over town with the little red wagon that Hugo got for his birthday. Time for the adults to reconnect, the baby to watch cars, an end goal of ice cream. This summer is going to be a good one. I can feel it.


Thoughts from Gus.


I'll be honest (I always am): I was absolutely furious when I found out the tiny emperor backpack was for Hugo, not me. It turns out human babies don't walk for a whole year? How ridiculous.

Surely they could have found a babysitter for this particular outing.

Sniffs and licks,


Spring street fair.

From Sunday after church: a wander through the street fair, a stop to see the turtles, a few moments to watch the boats float lazily around the Conservatory Water. A car nap for the way home, sausage legs crossed and binkie drooping.


Marketplace in the morning.

It's become our routine to meet up at our local cafe every Saturday morning after I run. We're just a quarter of a mile from the town green, so it's a short walk for Blake and Hugo. And we always order the same: eggs, toast, coffee and a smoothie, which is sarcastically nicknamed "The Long Island Sound" because the kale makes it an off-brown color.

Since Blake is working from home today, we made an irregular trip out for breakfast. Eggs, morning walks and my boys - this is my very favorite tradition.
And would you look at that?! We have a brand new sidewalk, after two months of construction.


Hugo Henry turns one.

Between work and life, we've been a bit crazed over here. This space is suffering for all of the best reasons, but it lives on (six years later!) as a place to capture some of the things that bring us joy, keep us up at night, light a fire within.

And Hugo Henry. One day, I hope this is a space that reminds him how much he's loved - by his parents and by so many others. A year ago, he rocked our world, making it larger and smaller in one breath. He is sunshine personified - all smiles and curiosity and noise. A new reason for us to build bigger, dream wilder.

On Saturday, we celebrated his bold little spirit. Over cake and Mickey cards, we welcomed the coming year. I can't help but feel like the toddler years are going to be some of the best.

Bonus: we're not starting this year with mind-numbing sleep deprivation. Woot!
We love you, pigeon. Happy birthday.


From Mother's Day.

Last year and this year: the boy who made me a mama. 

And the last twelve months have made me love and appreciate my own mother, my grandmothers, my husband's mother all the more. My goodness, this is an overwhelming, exhausting, amazing gig. Mothers are rockstars, and I couldn't be prouder of that title.


Taking stock.

*enjoying: green, and lots of it. spring is doing amazing things around here.
*reading: When Breath Becomes Air, which destroyed me. crying on Metro North kind of destruction. but so, so good.
*planning: Hugo Henry's first birthday party, and trying to figure out how we're going to get his birthday hat to stay on his head (answer: we're not.).
*eating: less refined sugar! I've banned it during the week, which has been a little rough.
*anticipating: a date tonight, with dinner and a show; the fact that we're doing both is really rocking my world.
*appreciating: mamas, in all forms.
*working: on 2017 brand strategies. my favorite time of year (not sarcasm).
*holding: a little boy's hand while he nurses, and thinking about how much he's grown in the last year.
*running: the familiar routes - through our little town, by the fairgrounds and around the Reservoir.
*listening: to Hamilton, pretty much nonstop.
*feeling: blessed by friendships, and fortunate to have more time to invest there in the last month.


Dear baby boy.

It's your birth month, little one. It's hard to believe that you'll be a toddler in less than two weeks, though you're full of toddler characteristics already. The climbing, the two-second tantrums, the garbled attempts at language. Watching you learn and grow will never cease to amaze me.

Over the weekend, you started teething again. It's a nasty bout, from what I can gather, and it's given you a rough go at nighttime. At 2:30am on Sunday, you woke with wracking sobs - the kind that I just can't ignore or put in the Ferberization camp. I put you next to me in the bed and your breath-catching sighs slowed to sleep. I stayed awake, staring at your chubby fingers and long eyelashes with a captivation that only stalker moms can conjure up. How many more of these nights will we get, in all of their frustrating glory?

The thing is, you will not remember these early details. Not the books we read or our morning routines. Not the floors you learned to crawl on or your love of the bath. Not the nights when I wiped tears from your face while you slept. That's ok. I am the keeper of these memories, and someday when you're older, I'll tell you about all of the seemingly meaningless moments that meant the world to me.

I love you, always,
Your mush of a mom.