steak and potatoes

{via pinterest}

i spent last night with my parents. 


not the whole night, but enough of the night to have steak and potatoes and chocolate ice cream, and laugh until we wept with too much joy overflowing from the corners of our eyes. 


and then i leaned against the counter and talked to my mom. 


and we talked about the baby, and about everything else that comes in between. and we talked about life, like we haven't done in what feels like ages. life has been rushing and i feel like my family connections have gotten a little threadbare since the beginning of two dark purple lines. 


but we're all doing a show together this spring. mom and dad and me and baby too, all on stage together for the first time since i was thirteen. and connections form with theater lights and velvet curtains, just like they used to do when i was a child and i had my first tied pair of ballet ribbons draped over my arm. 


did you know steak and potatoes and chocolate ice cream and so much laughter could do so much? 


i think i'd forgotten. because i think i've allowed myself to retreat, to dwell too much and live too little. to wrap too many shaking fingers around fears and cling just that bit too tight. 

{via pinterest}

going home feels good sometimes. at the end of night, we got in our car and drove back to our little apartment with bills and laundry and pizza rolls in the freezer.


but going home feels good sometimes, to steak and potatoes and chocolate ice cream and the warmth of familiarity when things are too much to handle on our own. 


because two are better than one. and a bundle of sticks are better than two. and we're making our own stick bundle now, turning two to three, and five to six. 

well the sun is surely sinking down

but the moon is slowly rising

and this old world must still be spinning 'round

but I still love you

:: you can close your eyes :: brooke fraser ::

and so now i'm singing lullabies to the baby in my stomach, the same ones my mom sang to me when i was a little girl. and i'm repeating familiar melodies over and over again. 

cross shadows and repeated lines.

and steak and potatoes and chocolate ice cream. 

{thank you everyone for your patience with me as i figure out this pregnancy and my body's new way of life! giveaway winners from January are going up in a matter of minutes on the original post, and the new giveaway is up as of tomorrow morning!}

expecting brave

and now i know, this is why my word is brave.

because in a moment when a stall door slams behind me and trembling fingers tug silver and paper away,  life changes forever. when stomach is now cradle and fingers now press against soon-taut skin.

because he and me are becoming we.

and this is frightening, in the most beautiful way. i'm not me anymore. it's we, me and little one curled against my innermost parts as He weaves and crochets little eyes and fingers all together.

{via pintrest}

we are expecting a child. 

:: our first ::

and i feel unworthy. this vessel filled, and maybe now i understand my own mother a bit more. because i love this child fiercely, and it still lingers with only six weeks of life beneath my skin and bone. 

we don't know daughter or son, we don't know eye colour or richness of hair. but we know we love this tiny babe growing deeper and stronger. 

and so i press discovering fingers to my abdomen where my little one grows and i whisper of the Lion's song to these developing ears. 

mama loves you already, dearheart. 

and so does daddy.

and so does Abba. 

and i saw the light in my own father's eyes as we held hands today, a grandfather already to the unborn. and i heard the laughter in my mother's soul, a grandmother long awaited. and i heard my sister's gasp of disbelief and cry of joy as sissy turns mommy. 

and i watched my husband's eyes light up with the strangest sparkle as he pressed lips to tummy and whispered sweet dreams, baby. 

september comes fast. thirty-six weeks to go before a ring of fire and blood and life in infant cry. 

and i now know why He wanted me brave. because i'm becoming warrior of a new sort. 

:: mother :: 

mummy

photo by PinkStudios Photography

today, my mum turns 50. 

honestly, i have a hard time believing that's true.

maybe it's because i just can't see my mom aging. or maybe it's because she hasn't changed hardly a bit since i was a little girl.

of course, she's updated her hair and her wardrobe choices

the credit for this can primarily be given to my little sister

burning the black and pink-floral stirrup pants

and modernized shopping sprees

but honestly, she hasn't changed. 

she's still my mommy. she's still the one that brought us coffee in bed and read us books every morning, even though we didn't always want to take part. 

she's the one that surprised us all several years ago when she ran break-neck speed up a hill to play an improptu game of hide-'n'-seek while we were out for a walk.

she's the one that does the funny faces, the "ostrich neck," and attempted to do the cupid shuffle on our Florida vacation.

she's the one that laughs so hard that she can't stop. 

who can't be tickled, or else she gets injured (every single time). the one who takes forever to pack for vacation, and then brings enough for a month on a week-long vacation. 

she's the one who passionately loves my father, and has worked alongside him for more than 25 years. 

she's the one i still call when my heart aches. she's the one known for a listening ear and a tender heart. 

her prayers shake the world.  

her children will rise up and call her blessed.

mummy, i am rising up and calling you blessed. 

you have done wonderously. you have walked the path to heaven, and we are following you close behind. i am so glad to have you in my life, to call you Muvver and Mummy and Mummy Dearest. 

thank you for adopting me. thank you for opening your heart to another woman's child. thank you for following the call of God and marrying Daddy. thank you for making us a family. 

thank you for loving me regardless. thank you for wanting me. for caring for me. for being everything you are and have been to me. 

happy birthday, mummy.

 i love you