9/30/19

Arizona.

From a work trip to Arizona for a conference - a beautiful spot nestled on Camelback Moutain. Unbeatable sunrises and light, very warm air. Like traveling to the moon and finding a warm welcome.

9/13/19

From the aquarium.

A Labor Day outing, just our little family. We saw the seals and the penguins and the sharks (the sharks! Hugo is very into the sharks). We ate pizza and the babies fell asleep in traffic on the way home - a date of sorts.

9/11/19

From a work event.

Hello from a new TV series featuring my retinas and two women who spend 90% of their time talking about sodium reduction. Mixed reviews, really.

9/9/19

In which Hugo takes up soccer.

and I overhear him say to himself, "I know I can do this."

9/6/19

Ocean sunset.

From a date: scallops and French fries and grilled peaches. a walk down by the water. a sit in the sand. a reminder that we are us, still.

9/3/19

Hugo: First Day of Pre K.

Today was Hugo's first day of Pre K at a new school. He was nervous and excited and eager and so ready - we knew that he was ready.

When I dropped him off, he gave me a big hug and marched into the cafeteria with a backpack nearly half his size. In mid-conversation with a teacher, probably telling her that he's four years old (a point of pride), he didn't look back. He'll be in the same classroom that was his dad's kindergarten room 27 years ago. Imagine that.

I am not and will not be the mother who mourns them growing older. It's a silly thing, wishing for an impossibility and hoping against what they are meant to do - learn more and get bigger and take on the world in ways that fascinate and terrify you. I will not be the mother who holds too long and too tight.

But today I was the mother who kept it together only long enough to remind him that he was brave and kind. I was the mother who walked to the car, unlocked it, sat in the driver's seat, put her face in her hands, took a deep breath, started the car, drove home, made myself a piece of toast, called into a meeting. Today, these are the mountains I moved.