Saturday, May 30, 2020

A Birthday Letter, COVID-19 Edition, Volumne 2

Dear Daisy,

I’m sitting at the dining room table surrounded by (virtual) research papers, Yellowstone guidebooks and school supplies. Flip-flops litter the entryway hallway and school papers are strewn about the entire downstairs. Yesterday we had the last day of school cheers as well as the last day of school tears. A pork shoulder is in the slow cooker, corn is waiting to be shucked and watermelon is sitting on the counter waiting to be cut. I hear the low rumble of thunder in the distance, a summer rainstorm breaking the early summer heat. In some ways, it seems just like every other year, but in other ways, it’s unlike any other year of our lives.
For your 10th birthday, you and I flew to Austin, Texas for a mother-daughter trip. Instead of gifts, you wanted to travel somewhere no one in the family had ever been. You wanted it to be warm, eat tacos, and listen to music. So, Austin it was. We devoured brisket at crowded BBQ joints, listened to live music in parking lots (turns out you aren’t 18 yet; so you can’t go into bars), kayaked Lady Bird Lake, searched out street art, gorged on cupcakes and tacos from food trucks, wandered independent bookstores and took a tour of the capitol building.
It was about three weeks before life got shut down.

We are currently on day 77 of a shelter-in-place directive and we are slowly starting to see life tip-toe out from isolation. A pickup baseball game at the local park with all participants wearing masks. More (mask-wearing) shopping at the grocery stores, tennis courts have opened, and I hear rumors of curb-side retail stores opening up. I am equal parts thrilled and terrified, ready to fall into a “new normal,” but not ready to give up the slowness and our little cocoon of the past eleven weeks.

At ten years old, you have taken the dramatic lifestyle changes in stride. You ask questions, wanting to know all you can about coronavirus: how it spreads, what the symptoms are, how many people are sick. You started a new journal, writing down poems in which encapsulated your anxiety about COVID-19, the small scenes of beauty you noticed on our walks and life in isolation with two younger sisters. You jumped right into remote learning, reminding me that education is malleable and so much more than just a classroom. You started baking bread and making homemade pasta and created a United States scrapbooks in which you can draw states and write down capitals and look up interesting destinations (clearly my map indoctrination is working). You are such a delight to be around. You are capable of expressing your thoughts on current events, books, music, and history. You have big ideas and witty comments.
On the flip side of this, you are becoming more acutely aware of the world around us, developing your moral compass and beliefs while cultivating a sense of who you are. As your parent, I want to teach you how to ground your identity and foster your values. I want you to create light and spread kindness. To take in the stresses of the world and use it to harness good. Maya Angelou famously wrote in her autobiographical novel I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, “Life is going to give you just what you put in it. Put your whole heart in everything you do, and pray, then you can wait.” My wish for you, sweet Daisy-girl, is to infuse your life with both work and play, believe in the fantastic, and do what makes your heart sing.

I love you more than all the stars in the sky and all the water in the ocean.

Love, Mom  

Sunday, April 05, 2020

Eight Rotations Around the Sun, Covid-19 Edition

Dear Lily,

We are on day 22 of a shelter-in-place directive. We just finished our third week of remote learning/homeschool/unschooling or whatever you want to call our current method of education. Your father has been working out of our home office, my classes have been moved entirely to an online platform, you take your ballet classes via Zoom and your piano lessons through FaceTime. Softball has been canceled, vacations postponed, and you converse with your teacher through Google meetups.  
Basically, it’s what Lin-Manuel Miranda belted out in Hamilton “Til the World Turned Upside Down” Indeed Hamilton, Indeed.

We are here with a pandemic sweeping away all traces of normalcy, and honestly, I’m doing my fair share of unraveling. And you, sweet bumblebee, continue to shine your bright light into the dark days, making our house joyful by infusing love and laughter in all that you do. At eight years old, you do cartwheels across any open space; you practice your balancĂ© en tournant ballet steps while setting the dinner table, you are forever asking for manicures and pedicures, are constantly making rainbow loom jewelry, obsessed with all things Alexander Hamilton, and are relentlessly asking for Harry Potter trivia.

Although coronavirus has been keeping people apart through social distancing, communities have been coming together in their time of need. All over the world, acts of kindness and solidarity have raised spirits. Thousands of New Yorkers in quarantine stood on their porches and near their windows to applaud first responders and health care workers on the frontlines of the coronavirus outbreak. This poignant clapping tribute has erupted worldwide in Italy, Spain, and India. There is an outpouring of gratitude.
In his address before the Urbi et Orbi blessing in Rome in late March, Pope Francis (I am going to insert here, the day your father and I were going to be in Rome to see him, ahem) reminded us, “Prayer and quiet service: these are our victorious weapons.” These acts may seem small when measured against the weight of the world’s sufferings, but we are often blind to the power of simple things. We may be stuck at home for the next few months, but we will continue to infuse joy in our days through our read-aloud of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. We’ll find hikes with beautiful wildflowers and recount stories of imagination as we climb. We’ll lay in the front yard and take in the fresh air and we’ll sit together at the dinner table to count our blessings. We’ll dance in the playroom and eat popcorn snuggled in front of the fire. We will love each other well, fall short, and start again the next day.

I guess what I’m trying to say to you is, these seemingly insignificant acts of love have the power to make life more beautiful through this crisis. And when we reach the other side, small acts of love and kindness will continue to be what makes life worth living.
I love you more than all the stars in the sky and all the water in the ocean.

Love, Momma

Thursday, March 19, 2020

Lily Turned Eight! The Birthday Questionnaire



  1. What is your favorite color: pink, purple and blue
  2. What is are you looking forward to in the next year: Going camping in Yellowstone and eating s’mores. 
  3. What is your favorite fruit: avocado and oranges 
  4. What is your favorite movie or TV show: Who was series (on Netflix) or Matilda 
  5. What is your favorite season: Spring because it’s sometimes warm, but sometimes it rains. You never need gloves to ride bikes to school and all the flowers bloom. It's just so pretty.
  6. What is your favorite animal: Puppies and bunnies.
  7. What is your favorite song: Any song from the Hamilton soundtrack
  8. What is your favorite book: Harry Potter and Babysitter’s Club and Whatever After 
  9. Who is your best friend: Simone, Daisy & Lily (cue heart-melting)
  10. What is your favorite thing about school: science + art + writing
  11. What is your favorite sport: ballet
  12. I am best at: the splits and cartwheels. (Mom's Note: She practices all the time, so I would expect this to be the case). 
  13. What is your favorite snack: chocolate rolls and smoothies
  14. What is your favorite dessert: cupcakes
  15. If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be: London or Hawaii
  16. What do you want to learn more about: Dance History and Art history. Also, cooking. 
  17. What do you want for your birthday dinner: Sushi. (Mom's Note: on her actual birthday Alicia had pneumonia. She still wanted to go out for sushi and we had a lemon sheet cake for dessert. We did all that - but, she barely ate any. We still owe her a proper sushi dinner.) 
  18. What do you want to be when you grow-up: a dancer  
  19. Where is your favorite place to go: Anywhere. I just want to go anywhere right now. (Mom's Note: We are on day six of a home quarantine because of the COVID-19 virus. The kids missing school and friends and activities.) 
  20. What is your favorite game: Sleeping Queens 

Thursday, January 23, 2020

A Letter to my Wild One: Five and a Half


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My dearest Violet,

This letter is coming to you closer to your half birthday than to your actual birthday, but I guess that’s life with three growing and active kids, right? But truth be told, I’ve been waiting for the exact right moment to write your birthday letter. The words have been swirling around my head, but the stillness I needed to write them and the ability to exactly articulate what to say have been missing.
At five years old, you are something of a conundrum. Most days you are generous and creative, but also hot-tempered and bossy. And sometimes, you manage to be all at once. In this past year, you have burst forth from your babyhood into a real-live girl – one who attends kindergarten! And rides a two-wheeler bike for miles at a time! Who takes piano lessons! Who races at swim meets and plays soccer and does gymnastics! A kid who hikes up steep hills and runs 5K races! A girl with best friends and drop-off playdates! A kid who is starting to sound out blends and words! A girl who loves to walk her puppy and rollerblade around the court! A girl who loves to bake cookies and dance around the kitchen. But, never fear my wild angel, you still love nothing more than a long morning snuggle complete with books (and coffee for me).
This past summer, we took our family vacation to New York. We spent a week playing tourist around NYC – playing in central park, walking across the Brooklyn Bridge, taking in the views from the Empire State building and eating all the pizza we could handle. The second week we spent touring upstate New York, spending time in Ithaca, Lake George, and the Catskills.
In Ithaca, we went to Robert Treman State Park to hike up a set of waterfalls. The hike was rugged and wild and beautiful. It was hard, sweaty work, but we laughed and played and took in the magnificence of it all.  At the end of the seven-mile hike, there was a stream-fed natural pool beneath the waterfall – complete with a diving board. One by one, we all took to the diving board to jump into the sixty-something degree water. You were bound and determined to do as your sisters did, and step by step you climbed the ladder. I watched you take tentative steps towards the end of the board, your eyes focused ahead. You stood at the end of the board looking down, and after what seemed to be an agonizingly long ten seconds, you took a deep breath and jumped.
Sometimes in your life, there will be moments when you will need to hold tight to your courage and you will wonder if you enough faith to support you. There will be moments when you will be so filled with awe and joy, you will wonder how to hold it all. And there will moments when you will encounter such loneliness and emptiness, you’ll wonder how to survive it. This does not mean something is wrong with you. This means you are human. My hope for your life, wild one, is that you welcome all three.

Because here’s the honest truth about life: It will not be perfect. It will be messy. It will be chaotic. It will be beautiful. It’s you. Showing up. Shining your light.
This year, at five (and a half!) rotations of the sun, I see you a little different. I see you a little more wild. A little more luminous. More comfortable in your own skin. More accepting of this messy, heart-breaking, hope-drenched life you live.

I love you more than all the stars in the sky and all the water in the ocean.

Love,
Momma