I have an old blog, one that I probably should have never abandoned. On it I shared bits about my days with my boys, photos, and the simple things I was into at the time. I called it And Mary, because it was about me in the crevices. Me in the small spaces I could find to just be me—the me that is and has been from a young age interested in fashion. The me that feels younger than even my young 29, marvels at the fact that I have 3 children, and struggles with contentment, building friendships, and making a home, just like every one else.
I think I started this new space with the idea that I needed to say more important things.
But the truth is, what might seem important to one person, might be fluff to someone else, so am I living under the illusion that I could please everyone? I can only write, and hope that somehow what I say might benefit someone else. But isn’t it possible that it is okay to have a space that is merely a creative outlet? A space to journal? I think I’ve been taking myself too seriously. Lately I’ve been wanting to share more of my fashion related interests. There’s zero chance I’ll become a fashion blogger, as there’s no one who could photograph me on a regular basis, and besides that, I’m horribly awkward in front of a camera. But I would love to highlight some interesting, ethical brands. In real life (as opposed to online life) I have people ask me what brands I like, and I frequently draw a blank. Maybe I could catalog some of them here. I know that when we first made the move to ethical brands it felt like we would never find resources for the things we need. Although affordable kid socks are still rather elusive, I’ve been amazed at the number of brands I have at my disposal when searching for things we need.
But more to the point, my kids. I have a lot of thoughts and milestones written down about Sebastian and Bruno, but not much of anything for Cosmas. These past 6 months have been such a delight, and the days, though sometimes long, the moments have been longer…. deliciously so.
Whether screaming or giggling, every time I look at Cozzie’s face, I’m struck my the beauty of this giant, amazing, chubby, human being with absolutely outrageous hair. He is a delight. I’ve been telling him he’s amazing from day one, and I feel it’s truth. I can see his moods change and his personality bursting forth in new ways each day. Sometimes he babbles, and gently grabs my face like he’s trying to say hello, mama, I’m glad you’re here. He doesn’t wake up easily, and typically goes from sleeping, straight to crying. I pick him up and he rubs his face, and looks at me bleary-eyed and relieved, covering my black shirt in a coat of snot and drool. My neckline is always sagging, and my bladder always full. There’s always laundry to fold, always dishes to wash or put away, floors in need of vacuuming, diapers in need of washing, and bathrooms in need of a wipe down. The piles grow, because my hands are full with a baby. Sometimes I think it would be nice to abandon these four walls with a roof and live in a tent. How much do we really need, anyway?
But we chug on, often sustained by the promise of an end of the week hike or family run, something that helps me feel like me in the crevices. Cody is studying for his comprehensive exams, so my free moments are scarce. I long to exercise, but unpredictable naps and the desire to be present with Seb and Bruno, pull me away from other pursuits. I make another cup of coffee. I just re-read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe to them and it was met with true interest and enthusiasm (maybe it was my British accent?). Seb is reading now, too, steadily gaining interest and making progress. Bruno is full of passion and feeling, just like me. It’s beautiful one moment, and awful the next. But oh, the maturity he’s reached over the last 6 months has been remarkable, and make me so delighted to see the person he is becoming. What amazing big boys we have, and they’re both just as delighted with Cozzie as their mama. They have accepted him 100% as their own, and we all marvel at how we ever lived life without our baby.
Right now, this is me in the empty spaces. A rambling mess, smelly, tired, conflicted. Some moments are bliss, and others seem like torture. I take the bliss and the happy and the peace and claim those as truth, and the arguments, hot tempers, and selfish attitudes as the ugly outbursts not at all reflective of the life we’re actually living.
It’s a life of long days, but longer moments… deliciously so.
Photo by Holly Fish