Talia Essman - Celebrating Life's {small} Moments

Here's To Taylor.

Taylor Lynn.

Seven years old today.

We were there the day you were born.

And it's been a great ride watching you grow ever since.

You and Adelaide, only 8 months apart ... truly lifelong friends.

Together since the day you were born.

Fights and makeups. Makeups and fights. But friends all the days in between.

So I couldn't help myself. I had to devote this blog today to just you - Taylor Lynn.

Make your day today special.

Adelaide, 8 months; Taylor, 2 months.

Taylor, officially 6; Addie, 6 1/2 sharing a birthday corndog.

 

When You Aren't Looking.

I am a believer in signs.

Not lighting-from-above kind of signs. More subtle-in-the-detail signs.

They always seem to pop up when you aren't looking. But somehow they reach out and grab your attention.

I had an appointment this morning. And as I was paying and signing out, I looked over and on the top shelf of a display I saw a bronze, old-school mortar and pestle. You know, those tools pharmacists used to crush and grind medicine in the "old days."

On any other day, and to any other person, this wouldn't seem that odd. But today, that mortar and pestle, on the top shelf of an oak bookcase on the other side of a waiting room ... called to me.

My heart had been heavy all morning. Today was moving day for my 91-year-old grandmother. She was leaving the last home she had shared with my grandfather and was moving to an assisted-living home. It's a transition for her, and a bittersweet one at that. I was with her on Saturday, helping her pack up a few things that she would be taking with her. 

Including some of the mortar and pestles that she and my grandfather, a true, old-fashioned pharmacist, had collected over their 60 some odd years together.

So when I saw that bronze mortar and pestle on the top shelf of the bookcase on the other side of the waiting room, I took at as a sign. A subtle, in-the-details sign, that today my grandfather was watching over my grandmother and taking care of her in the way he always did for all those many years.

 

Mirror.

There are no words for how much I love this kid.

She is me. Down to reading a book while drinking her chai tea.

She is a mirror of myself. From the good to the "needs improvement" and everything in between.

And I love her to my core.

My Day.

My day. By Talia Essman. Age 39 3/4.

5:20 a.m.: After going to bed well past midnight, I am awoken at the crack of dawn by my daughter pulling at me. "Ellie," I cry out as she pulls me down. "What are you doing?" A little more awake now, she tells me she thought I was a suitcase. A suitcase? She had a bad dream, she says, and wants to sleep in our room but I was a suitcase in her way so she was trying to move me.

She falls back asleep. I am wide awake.

6:15 a.m. Alarm sounds. 

6:55 a.m. I wake up Addie. She's not happy, but she rolls out of bed. We get dressed. I make breakfast, pack lunches, feed the dog, load the kids in the car and head to school.

8:05 a.m. I return home, clean the breakfast dishes, return emails, switch laundry loads and feed the guinea pigs.

9:30 a.m. Chug through spin class.

10:30 a.m. Make a made dash to Costco to get dog food, turkey bacon and snacks for tonight's softball game.

11:10 a.m. Pick up Addie and Taylor from kindergarten.

11:20 a.m. Return home, make them lunch of leftover pizza, watermelon and baby carrots. Change laundry load, take a shower and clean up lunch dishes. Help girls get in their costumes for dance photos. Curl their hair and do their makeup.

1:20 p.m. Arrive at dance studio just in time for photos. Change girls out of costumes when pictures are done and head back to pick up Ellie.

2:15 p.m. Starbucks. Don't judge. 

2:35 p.m. Arrive five minutes late to pick up Eliana. Stop at Albertsons for the root beer, dry ice and chips I still need for tonight's softball snack. Arrive 5 minutes late to pick up Addie and Taylor from dance.

3:15 p.m. Scoop vanilla ice cream into 24 plastic cups. Surround them with dry ice, make snacks (cheese and crackers for Ellie; Trader Joe's taquitos and gogurts for little girls). Change laundry loads. Ice down root beers, load Eliana's softball bag in car, remind kids to get their sweatshirts and shoes, remind kids again to get their sweatshirt and shoes on. Load 24 plastic cups of ice cream into car.

3:55 p.m. Stop at local liquor store for more dry ice (because the OCD girl in me is worried my 24 root beer floats aren't going to stay cold enough until tonight).

4:05 p.m. Arrive 5 minutes late to practice.

5 - 7 p.m. Watch softball game and scream for my daughter every time a ball heads in her direction or she swings at a bat at anything.

7:15 p.m. Arrive home. Unload car. Take Addie up for bath. Switch laundry loads. Sign field trip letter for Eliana. Check her homework. Unpack lunch boxes. Prepare tomorrow's lunch. Feed family a dinner of Costco rotisserie chicken and spinach salad.

8:00 - now. Fold laundry.

Mine is a glamorous life.

And I'm ready to do it all over again tomorrow.

 

The Routine.

Each night, when I think my day is finally done, I realize ... I still have "The Routine" ahead of me.

The Routine.

It begins with the packing of lunches. Snack and a drink for Addie. Snack and gluten-free lunch for Ellie (which makes the task of what was once just packing up a peanut butter-and-jelly a little more time consuming). I lay out their water bottles and lids, to be filled in the morning with fresh water and ice, alongside their lunchboxes (which have been wiped down and sanitzed). 

I prepare the coffee and line up Chris' coffee cup and mine, his in front since he leaves first. I leave a spoon alongisde the mugs to mix in creamer.

I map out what I will make for breakfast. If it's an egg and turkey bacon morning, I put the pan on the stove. A waffle morning? I put the plates next to the toaster. If it's going to be a cereal morning, I set out the bowls and spoons.

I clean out my iced tea pitcher from the day by putting anything that is left in my water jug for the gym the following morning.

I clean out the container and add a new bag of Startback's Passion Tea. I let it steep for 10 minutes and then put it in the fridge to cool overnight

Backpacks are lined up by the garage door. 

I turn off the lights and head upstairs. Routine? Done.

Do you have a routine? Is it as OCD as mine? Please share.

 

Gratitude.

Like every mother out there, my biggest fear is that something horrible should ever happen to my children.

Car accidents, in particular, really put fear in my soul.

On Friday, Eliana was with her bestie and their family for an afternoon play-date. When they arrived, the mom came over to me to tell me that they were running behind because they had just witnessed a horrible accident.

Not only witnessed it, but had been the car immediately behind it. Not only had they been in the car immediately behind it, but the dad had helped pull one of the victims from the car while Eliana, her BFF and the family's other two kids were in the car watching.

Eliana runs over to me and gives me a play-by-play of the accident, including how the victim had looked slumped forward in the front seat. How he had not been wearing a seatbelt. How all the police and fire crews had worked on him and how they had watched this entire scene unfold.

All weekend long Eliana kept fretting about the man who had been hurt. He was old and she knew he had been injured fairly seriously. I called the Carlsbad Police Department several times and asked if they could give me an update on his condition. They would only say he was in serious condition.

When Eliana woke up this morning, the first thing she wanted to know was if I had heard anything about the old man. (Anyone who knows my daughter, knows that she has pretty much the biggest heart and oldest soul of any 9 year old out there).

I had not.

Until this afternoon, when I saw the headline on the North County Times' Web site: "Man Dies After Wreck."

It hearts my heart. I haven't decided whether or not to tell her. 

But it also makes me want to grab both my daughters and hug them. Because you just never know. And you have to be thankful for the moments your daughter is in the car - immediately behind.

 

My Girls.

Rainy day.

My favorite kinds.

Nothing to do. No where to go.

What's a girl to do?

If you are Eliana, you snuggle up under covers with a good book.

If you are Adelaide, you take all the socks out of your drawer and organize them.

Reading and organizing. Two of my favorite things.

It's no wonder I love a rainy day.

Rain & Sunshine.

 

Life has been a bit stormy around here lately.

I thought about blogging some of the trials and tribulations we've been facing, but for various reasons I have opted to keep it on the private side. 

Let's me just say this ... you can't always make lemonade out of lemons. The little ant can't always move that rubber tree plant. Sometimes, when you think you are beaten ... you actually ARE. (Can you tell I've OD'd on peppy little euphemisms?)

But, truth be told, we are starting to come out of the fog and are ready to face the uphill road still ahead. We have learned a lot about ourselves, and we might even be stronger for what has been put before us. Time will tell.

As for making lemonade out of lemons? Let's put it this way, lemons are tart for a reason.

Morning.

When your day starts like this, it can't all go bad. 

Just Because.

Here's to my daughter.

She's been giving it her all lately. 

School. Softball. Dance.

Gluten free.

It's not always easy.

Sometime you have earned a day just you and your mama.

At the top of our list, the new Titanic exhibit at the San Diego Naturual History Museum. 

A stroll around Balboa Park.

I even let her confiscate my cell phone. And crank text her father.

Why?

Happy.

Day of Love.

 

Adelaide's.

Let me set the stage.

The girls have been gone camping with Chris for two nights, in the freezing netherland points of Jewel Valley where the wind speed was so high it almost elevated my 45-pound, six-year-old child off the ground. Well, at least according to that 45-pound, six-year-old child.

They are finally fed and bathed and exhausted beyond words.

At 8:47 p.m. I get Eliana tucked in and headed off to dreamland.

But Addie. She's still up. Too tired to settle down and just fall asleep.

And everything ... and I do mean everything ... is annoying her.

She is looking for her set of Dick & Jane books. The set she got for Hanukkah. They are somehow completely, 100% missing. And of course it's the one thing, the ONLY thing, she wants to share at school tomorrow.

She is in convulsions on the floor, clamoring for her books.

I assure here that it's ok to share something differenct tomorrow, and when she gets home from school we will make a thorough overhaul of the house until we can find those darn Dick & Jane books and she can bring them for sharing on Tuesday.

Noooooooooooo, she shouts. The sleep deprivation is starting to take over my sweet daughter's little body.

And anyway, she shouts at me, why should I trust Y.O.U?!?!?

Screech.

Well, why wouldn't you, I ask her. What have I done to not be worthy of your trust?

You told me that someday you would make me to my store. The store I was named after. The Adelaide store. And you never did, so I just can't trust you, she says to me through snarling teeth.

Snarling. They were snarling.

Sidenote: There is an uber, upscale flower shop in the heart of La Jolla. Years ago, Chris and I drove by it and loved the name. We didn't exactly name her for that store, it was kind of a byproduct of driving by and just happening to like that specific name.

So what does a good mother who has lost her daughter's trust do?

Well, haul her 35 minutes to La Jolla in the rain the following afternoon. To her store. So my sweet Adelaide will find it somewhere, deep down in her heart, to trust me again.

We get out and wonder this magical store where one pink rose goes for $8/stem. She is so excited to see her name on everything from the billboard otu front to the gift cards and plant care instructions.

And just when I think I have earned my daughter's undevoted love and respect back ... she asks me if she can buy a $107 ceramic pot filled with bamboo and carnations. I say, no, but you can pick out one beautiful flower.

And off she storms to the car. And just like that, I have lost the trust all over again.

Meet the Cousins.

And now that the day is finally here, there is no reigning in their enthusiasm.

So meet your cousins Miss Faith. I can't protect you from the love they are about to dish on you.

To my niece.

Dear Faith,

Welcome, welcome, welcome.

I can't get over how much I love you.

You are a slice of heaven and I can't get enough of you.

You didn't come to us that easily. You gave my sister a little run for her money. The idea of you never arriving caused my sister a few tears.

But darn it all, you were worth every heartbreaking, gutwrenching moment.

So on the second day of your life, I make you the following promises:

- I will always side with you when you call me to tell me how unfair your mother is.

- I will polish your fingernails any time you want.

- My doors will be open to you.

- I will photograph every milestone of your life, whether you like it or not.

- I will greet you with a kiss and a hug every time I see you.

- I will tell you every emarbarassing story about your mother's childhood I can remember, from her fear of clowns to her Strawberry Shortcake obsession to her disastrous Maypole dance hairdo (I have photos). 

- I will never screen your calls.

- I will always let you stay up late, eat ice cream for dinner and splash in puddles.

More than anything, I will love you beyond measure. And that I promise you.

 

Faith May Booher.

At 7:14 a.m. I get the call.

The call.

My baby sister's water has broken.

I scream. I scream some more. I scream a lot more.

I send the kids to school. I go to my Monday morning spin class.

But I can't focus. My sister's baby is on her way.

So we head to the hospital and wait. And we wait. And we wait some more.

Friends of mine who have seen Eliana at school tell me she is over the moon with excitement. She tells everyone she meets her aunt is having a baby today.

Not wanting them to miss out on the excitement, I ask Chris to bring them to the hospital to wait with us. 

I photograph the waiting. Addie photographs me photographing.

And then we get the news.

Faith May Booher has arrived.

Love doesn't even begin to describe how I feel.

Sleepover Success.

Early morning greetings from Addie (Morning Ellie, happy birthday. You're hogging the covers) started off Eliana's 9th birthday extravaganza.

The birthday girl was treated to a tasty breakfast of gluten-free (GF from here on out) crepes, with a smorgasboard of toppings from fresh strawberries to nutella to banana and fluff.

And then she left for school, and the serious preperations began.

A table of GF snacks for the late-night activities.

 And Josh, of course.

 The evening celebration began with dinner at Sammy's Pizza, complete with GF pizza and a pile of cotton candy (yes, gluten free!)

 The first round included drinks and candy. And then they got the word from Bubby to go ahead and order a second round of snacks. I heard one kid call out for an order of nachos. Ellie ordered a second round of M&Ms, just because she could.

 Before Joshy had to leave the all-girl festivities, he signed Eliana's pajamas (got to love Justice)!

 Gluten-free peach pie (made by mama!) completed the festivities.

 Josh, not wanting to miss a beat, too his late-night snacks to go.

And when it was all said, we asked Ellie if she had a good birthday.

Her response?

"It was great mom. The only thing that would have made it better is if Justin Beiber or Adele had stopped by."

Oh, you've got to love her.

Nine.

If you leap awake
In the mirror of a bad dream
And for a fraction of a second
You can't remember where you are
Just open your window
And follow your memory upstream
To the meadow in the mountain
Where we counted every falling star

I believe a light that shines on you
Will shine on you forever
And though I cant guarantee
There's nothing scary hiding under your bed
I'm gonna stand guard like a postcard
At the Golden Retriever
And never leave till I leave you
With a sweet dream in your bed

Gonna paint a sign
So you'll always know
As long as one and one is two wooo
There could never be a father who loved
His daughter more than I love you

Trust your intuition
It's just like goin fishin'
You cast your line and hope you get a bite
You don't need to waste your time
Worryin' about the market place
Trying to help the human race
Strugglin to survive its harshest hour

I'm gonna watch you shine
Gonna watch you grow ... - Paul Simon

Thanks for taking me on this journey Eliana. It's only just begun. Happy birthday baby!

Top 10.

 

As we countdown the final days until my baby niece arrives, I had a few thoughts for my sister about that first, beautiful year of her daughter's life. 

1. Those first few months are all about survival. Yours. You won't be able to do anything except take care of your baby and maybe feed yourself. A shower is a luxury.

2. You will want to literally drop kick every old lady who tells you to enjoy this time in your life. Oh yeah, lack of sleep, being spit up and changing diapers 8,000 times a day is a moment in time you want to cherish. (Note: The old ladies are kind of right, but when you haven't slept in weeks, you don't want to hear it.)

2 (part B). After drop kicking grandma, you will want to hold her in a choke hold if she looks at your crying baby and says, "oh, she must hungry" or "oh, little sweetheart needs a nap" or "oh my, her diaper must be dirty." Listen lady, sometimes kids cry for reasons besides hunger, sleep or dirty diapers! 

3. There will come a point where you ask yourself why you would ever do this to yourself ... why you would ever turn your life upside down. You will swear you will never have another child, that no sane person would subject themselves to this torture.

4. At some point during that first year, you will look at that little baby and not even like him/her. You will look into the face of your screaming newborn and ask yourself if you even love this thing? Then, five minutes (maybe five days) later you will feel horrendously guilty for even thinking such thoughts. But cut yourself some slack, you will always love your child. Doesn't mean you will always like him/her.

5. You will want to hide in your house and not see or talk to anyone. For days. Weeks. You just want to tell them all to leave you alone! You may even snap at people you love. Go for it. We've been there. 

 6. You will find that you knew nothing about being tired. That being sleep deprieved is a torture beyond measure, so bad it should be outlawed under the Geneva Convention.

7. Anyone who tells you that breast feeding is naturual and that (when done correctly!) should not hurt ... has never had a human being suck on their breast for hours at a time.

8. There will be a night (or two) when you will hate your husband. Like when he wakes you in the middle of the night to tell you that your daughter is awake and then goes back to sleep while you get up for the upteenth time to feed or change or rock her back to sleep. Oh yeah, gets ugly.

9. You can read, "Happiest Baby on the Block," "Babywhisper" and "Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Baby" a thousand times over ... and never find the magical answer of how to get your baby to sleep.

10. Everyone and their sister (say what???) will know more than you do about parenting and will share every little nugget of knowledge and information they have with you. You will smile politely and move on, screaming to yourself that you don't want to hear one more opinion on bottles or pacifiers or swaddling. Most well-wishers will end each conversation with, "but it's your baby, so you have to do what you think is best" while you know what they really mean is that THEIRS is the only opinion that counts. It's all right, they mean well, and you won't mean a thing by repeating to yourself "go f-ck yourself" 801 times over. Preferably in your head. Silently.

And when it's all said and done, you will pick up the phone and call your older (and wiser) sister, who will listen to you vent and then offer up the best nugget of parental advice she can muster ... followed by the sentence, "but it's your baby, so you have to do what you think is best."

 

What's Your Song?

My kid's have theme songs.

I know, it sounds kind of crazy, but they each have a song that plays in my head when I look at them being all cute and sweet. Which is usually when they are sleeping.

But there are times when they are cute and sweet while awake (less often, but still happens) ... and I sing their theme song to them.

Sometimes they sing along. And that's good, because I'm kind of a sucky singer.

Sometimes they shrug me off, like I'm a little crazy.

But most of the time, they look at me, really look at me, and sing along to their theme song.

For Eliana, I get a little rock. A little Pink.

Perfect (G rated), by Pink (which also happens to be one of the greatest running songs of all times)

Oh, pretty pretty please,

Don't you ever ever feel

Like you're less than, less than perfect

Pretty pretty please

If you ever ever feel like you're nothing, you are perfect to me.

For Addie, I have to back a bit further. Like 80s back.

In the 80s there was a movie called, Some Kind of Wonderful. If you are in your late 30s and never saw it, you need to rethink your entire teenage years. Seriously. 

Addie's theme song?

I Can't Help Falling in Love With You, by UB40. If you haven't heard it (again ... what were you doing during your teenage years), listen here.

Chills.

Shall I stay,

Would it be a sin,

If I can't help falling in love with you.

As a river flows, 

Gently to the sea

Darling so it goes

Some things are meant to be

Take my hand - take my whole life too

For I can't help falling in love with you.

What do you sing to your kids? Better yet, what's your theme song?

Caring.

My daughter ... the winner of the caring award.

I'm P.R.O.U.D.

And a little confused.

Because at home, her sister can't do a thing right. Caring is not the word that comes to mind.

But everywhere I go, people who have met my daughter describe her as one of the most caring people they know.

Her teachers are all convinced she will be a special needs teacher. Because she is one of the most caring people they have ever met.

And that ... deserves an award.

On the Road.

Distance from Mammoth Mountain to Carlsbad: 757 miles.

Adelaide, mile 97: Mom, do we have any healthy food in the car?

 

Eliana, mile 114: Are we there yet?

Mile marker that we were grateful for the iTouches?

Mile 1-mile 757.

Here We Go.

When you travel with Matt Davis, you leave early. Crack of dawn early.

Watch out Mammoth; here we come!

My Word.

I started this blog Dec. 31, 2008.

My intention was to find something to strive for each year, and try to demonstrate through my everyday actions my quest to meet my destination. 

I choose a word. One word. A word that I hope will define my upcoming year.

In 2008, I chose the word Simplify.

The word for 2009 was Gratitude.

For some reason, 2010 got by me. No idea why.

But I regrouped for 2011, feeling a little bit saucy, and opted to expand my quest from one aspirational word for the year to two: Bring. It.

So here we are ... 2012.

I've been trying to figure out what my word would be.

Life is a little complicated these days, our family is a bit in limbo now and the future is not as clear as I would hope, so I've been struggling what word I could commit to.

And then it hit me. Clear as day. Only one word was the perfect fit for 2012. No other word even came close.

Faith. 

 

 

 

Goodbye 2011.

This Is Why.

Sometimes I wonder why I do certain things.

Why do I stay up until 2 a.m. hot gluing the final glittered star onto a wreath made of rulers? Why? Why? Why?

Because, deep down somewhere, I think I must like it. At least, I must like the finished product,

So what if in the mean time I am a little sleep deprived? So what if I am a little cranky/ So I snap at my husband and children all in the name of art. Ok, that last one's a problem. But, gosh darn it all, it's worth it. Because this could be my favoite teacher gift of all time.

It makes me happy. And that's why I do it.