Martha's Vineyard.

From a family trip to Martha's Vineyard, which is becoming an annual summer thing:
^^our very own dock and small beach for the kids to play at.^^
^^twin cousins.^^
^^a stop at the alpaca farm (kids were over the moon. some adults were, too.)^^
^^and the perfect (albeit, likely haunted) home for us to stay at and explore.^^
^^visits to Gigi and Pop's campsite.^^
^^to Edgartown, too.^^
^^morning walks by the marina in quarantine garb.^^
 ^^a dog who came, too.^^
^^gorgeous views from our bedroom.^^
 ^^bubbles and sand and crab hunting.^^
^^slow afternoons with a book.^^
^^and some really good family bonding.^^



Blake and I hopped a flight to Miami late last week - a brief anniversary / birthday trip, and we didn't realize how much we'd value this time together. We haven't ever taken a trip on which we've done so little. Largely confined to the hotel for health reasons, we passed the days reading and having conversation by the pool, working out, ordering delicious food (a friend is the chef at the amazing Stubborn Seed), visiting with family that lives locally. We slept 8 hours a night (we stayed here, and it was lovely) and never needed a second cup of coffee in the afternoons.

A privilege, we recognize, and we're so thankful to our family for watching the kids and feeding our pup while we were gone.


10 years.

Dear Blake,

We had plans for Paris. Walks along the Seine as the sun was setting. A small vow renewal, just us two. Champagne and cheese and chocolates. COVID had other plans, and this is the stuff of life, it seems.

In 10 years, we've brought two babies into the world. Slept through the night with a snoring bulldog next to us. Traveled across the world and back. Bought a home. Made it our own. Filled it with life. Built a career and a company and fought for them to grow. Fought for, ran for, spoke for justice. Made up our minds to fight for each other.

It feels like defying the odds, this continuation of young love. It isn't really. This is a kind of love that's older than we'll ever be.

Here's to 10 more. It'll go faster than we think. What an adventure.


Turning 31.

a note from Blake, reminiscent of the first time he said "I love you." cards and books and calls from friends. a flower delivery from my team at work. toddler arms wrapped around my legs. French food (indoors!) and pie to top it off. lucky, indeed, for another year and people to share it with. 



One June morning that I took off, in the most beautiful weather. The kids raced each other to the statue and ran around with a kite, and it was almost as if things were back to pre-COVID days.


Last day of preschool.

Hugo finished preschool this week - an anticlimactic finale, but who really needed those extra 3 months of school, anyway? ;)

And Maisie found my lipstick for the occasion. We need to hide all of our valuables from her these days.


From the start of summer.

Maisie's favorite phrases right now: "Oh, great!" "Gonna be fun!" "I do it." "Watch Frozen, please?" "Mine." "Go outside?" "Yucky boogie." "I go with you."

Hugo's favorite phrases right now: "Does anyone want to play with me?" [he knows how to push buttons] "Let's pretend I'm a balloon, you are a frog, the house is made of cheese, etc. etc." "Want to hear a joke?"


Date nights these days.

Would be better in Paris or on a beach somewhere sunny and warm. Wouldn't change the company for the world.


Memorial Day.

No parades or fireworks, but we are grateful for the quieter celebrations and simpler freedoms, too. Freedoms to see those closest to us, to speak on the phone, to own a piece of property, to study science and speak for what we believe.


Outdoor space.

Revamped our back deck and it feels like a vacation in that it is outside of the house that we have been spending the vast majority of our time in over the last 2 months. By the end of quarantine, we will have completed all of our house projects. It's weekend therapy.


Hugo turns 5.

Hugo Henry,

You turned 5 last week, an occasion that was well celebrated over dinosaur cakes and outdoor barbecues. You counted down the days, the hours, the minutes. I was sad to see them go - you (now, suddenly) a boy, capable of understanding and expectations and heartbreak.

One day we'll talk about this time, in the midst of COVID-19, as a slowing down. It will be a breath note. A difficult one, it seems, in which lots of people are having a very hard time. Here we are squeaking out some life in spite of it, learning together.

This is a Norwegian quote I've come to love: "It will be wonderful, or it will pass."
And something else I've found: Some things will become wonderful only when they do pass.

One day we'll talk about this time, and I'll tell you about how I watched you sleep on your last day of being four, and wished the world for you. A world of travel and holding people close and truth and freedom. And a home to return to, also. Quieter days. Joy in small things. There is wonder in that.

I love you a great deal, little boy. There is so much we have to learn.

Your mama


Mother's Day.

The work and joy of mothering. I can still hardly believe they're mine. 


Basement Remodel.

A nearly-finished and already-messy basement remodel - increasing our living space by nearly double. One of our favorite investments to date.


Quarantine homeschool.

Going on 6 weeks of this, and so far the kids have learned that their mom is a really terrible artist BUT that she can magically make pennies float. So that's something.


Long work days.

Dotted with the best of interruptions: an afternoon snack of cheddar bunnies, a walk to see the ducks, feeding ants in the driveway, a four-year-old holding a bouquet of weeds at the doorway.


Maisie turns 2.

Our baby girl turned 2 on Wednesday. She has been a ray of light since we first discovered that she was on the way. A force to be reckoned with. A lover of Minnie Mouse and her brother's cars in equal measure. A dancer, analyst, artist, adventure-seeker. She is everything we'd dreamed of and more.

Happy birthday, Maisie Austen. We love you more than you can imagine.