Adventures in Lilylandia

Ever since Lily was an itty-bitty newborn a year ago, Jeff has referred to Lily's "Adventures in Lilylandia." They would take place with The Bub (Mama) and The Beard (Dada), and, apparently, they were going to be epic.

Fast forward to Lily's first birthday. In addition to "giving" Lily a year-long membership to Chibis, an indoor playground near us, we also wanted her to have something lasting. Enter the toy box.

I found this one at Bare Woods Furniture; since we Jeff didn't have time to build one, it was a good option that even included a slow-close latch. And Lily clearly approved! So, a few weeks later, we purchased it and started planning.

First, Jeff did some hard work with painting and "antiquing" it--he was worried it looked too much like it belonged at the beach, but I love it.

And then came Lily's birthday. We asked everyone who came over that weekend--and we will ask all those who we love who will be visiting in the weeks and months to come--to add a bit of themselves to a toy box that will take Lily to all the destinations she can possibly imagine.

Jeff started with "Lily's toy box," and it grew from there. On one side, came Lily's southern godfather's (which is really her godfamily's) hometown.

On the other side appeared Mommy and Daddy's hometowns.

The front got additional embellishment. From Lily's fairy godmother came Baltimore, FD (FairyLand), and, for some of our dearest friends across the pond, Jeff added London.

By the time we were done, Lily was more than ready to put our hard work to good use.

Now, for those of you lamenting, it's not finished. It's clearly missing Canada, her godmother's Virginia hometown, and several others. So, when next you visit, just remind us to hand you a brush and some paint, and it's all yours!

Dear Lily: You're (almost) 52 Weeks

Dear Lily,

I used to be so annoyed by parents who would say their child was "40 weeks" or "15 months." It seems like, past the point of 12 weeks, parents should start counting in months; past the point of 12 months, parents should start counting in half years; past the point of 3 years, parents should just count in years. And yet, as your first birthday looms on the horizon tomorrow, I find myself clinging to the hours, scarcely able to admit that you're no longer my tiny baby. Even throughout last week, as we'd encounter strangers at the grocery store or Virginia Kitchen and they'd ask your age, I was quick to reply, "Oh, she'll be a year next weekend." Because, just for today, you're still 11 months and change.

Today is your first birthday party--a small gathering of some of your favorite people, the people who have supported us and loved you since before you were born. In a few hours, there will be a flurry of activity as we get everything ready by putting finishing touches on your cake and dressing you in a very special first birthday dress from your granddaddy. But, right now, in this moment, you are sound asleep on my chest. It feels so much like those early days when I watched hours of Netflix on my phone while maintaining perpetual motion in the glider. Now, your body stretches beyond the length of my torso; your toes tap at my knees. But when I look at your face, lips slightly parted, eyes peacefully shut, breaths deep and steady--when I look just there, you are my tiny baby again.

This is the best present I could ask for, my love. Thank you for this morning of just us two, for these sweet snuggles with my baby Button. You can grow bigger tomorrow, but I'm so grateful you were willing to stay little today.

With love,

Your mama