Leila Love

Leila Love

Talking to an imaginary friend while she draws, “That looks beautiful honey!”

“K for cold, jacket for G.”

“I wish I was a baby and start all over again.” (Because apparently even toddlers long for time machines.)

“We could dream about that.”

When playing house involves a drum circle, “I’ll be the Mommy! Time to play drums at the house kids!”

“That’s just pretend. There’s not anything to worry about.

Discussing the situation with Santa’s reindeer, “I don’t know if there’s one reindeer or two reindeer in front. In our neighborhood there’s one reindeer in front. In this neighborhood there’s two reindeer in front.”

Discussing the break in the sky between cloudy and clear, “It’s kind of like a paper that has coloring and apiece of paper that doesn’t have coloring.”

Discussing her pajama selection, “I’m gone do two mix-matched. I just love mix-matched.”

After laughing really hard, “It makes me cry a little.”

To Mommy (who happened to be drinking wine at the dinner table while her dinner finished cooking), “Why you just drinking wine?”

“When you get to be 13 you’re pretty very old.”

Leila: “Did you see the balloons?” Mommy: “No.” Leila: “You always don’t see the fun things.”

“I’m speaking the language of Miss CeeCee (a doll) because she doesn’t have a button or something.”

“This slide is not available.”

Discussing a fixture in the bathroom, “This is so loose. We don’t need to worry about it. I’ll just leave it alone.”

A word for 2016

A word for 2016

Last year I chose a word, or, more accurately, a word engulfed me. Vulnerable. I walked into an invitation to be more involved where I previously avoided commitment lest I be disappointed. I decided to pursue a nagging curiosity about teaching yoga. We dove feet first into an adoption application. I continued along the precarious precipice of small business life. Then other things took advantage of the opening for vulnerability. And I made it to the end of the year. I survived. And I feel silly using such a grand word when others are handling things of such a larger magnitude, but last year felt big to me. It was terrifying and exhausting and oh so worth it. Thank goodness.

Then another word started tiptoeing around my thoughts towards the end of the year. Patience. I was so sure this was my mantra for 2016. Then an Instagram post from Emily McDowell and an email from a dear friend with this word: intentional. It was as if someone else articulated my thoughts, their words resonated so deeply with me. I want to walk through 2016 with purpose. I want to partner intentionally, mother intentionally, work intentionally, practice and teach yoga intentionally, write intentionally, photograph intentionally. All these things I have been doing, I want to keep doing intentionally. I want to perk up my ears when other women have those discussions about work life balance because I am learning balance does not magically appear simply because you are balancing your time between two things. And this is where the year of vulnerability comes into play. Because when I do these things and do not “just see what happens” but move forward towards an intentional end, I leave myself open to big stinking, not particularly attractive failure. And when I get there, because I think failure in some shape or form is kind of inevitable, I hope I can congratulate on all the planning that got me there.

Weekly Photo Project: Week 4

Weekly Photo Project: Week 4

Last Saturday I woke up to an alarm, rolled out of bed, brewed a quick cup of coffee and headed on the road in my pajamas. I made it home in time to unpack slightly, shower, get dressed, survive a tantrum about socks and get back in the car to head down for a snow day in a park near Grandma and Grandpa. I could barely keep my eyes open or my legs upright, but I remembered to keep the camera and managed to capture this joy on our toddler’s face as she experienced imported snow while the Northwest survived a blizzard.