melted smoosh

dear sweet pea,  you have grown up so much this year! when i look back at pictures and videos from last November, it's hard to believe that was only twelve months ago. and yet, at your core, you are still the same observant, thoughtful, creative, sensitive, dubious person you've been since birth.  "what the heck is going on?!" as expected, you've had lots of mixed emotions about our return to Pittsburgh from Rome. mostly, you're happy to be back in our house, with our big backyard and the new swingset Daddy built, and your bike (you and your best friends Maeve and Shayden learned to ride two-wheelers within days of each other this summer!). you've spent a few glorious weekends at Nana and Pappy's house, and i can still hear your shrieks of joy when you discovered your beloved friend Yaya was also at the "summer camp" daycare program at ABCs. but of course you miss your friends in Rome, especially Qing Qing, Louise, and Polly. we found out rec

what. a. year.  i expected there to be some bumps along the road as we transitioned back to life in the States, but as we prepare to celebrate Thanksgiving here for the first time in three years, i've been blindsided by how much i actually will miss Thanksgiving at the NAC. that place really knows how to celebrate a feast in every sense of the word: emotional, spiritual, and gastronomical! the entire day was filled with purpose, from the sunrise Turkey Trot around Vatican City to an incredibly gorgeous liturgy to the gourmet meal, and necessary leisure time in the afternoon. moreover, our first Thanksgiving in Rome fell on St. Cecilia's feast day, and so that evening, we walked down to the Basilica of Santa Cecilia in Trastevere to hear none other than the Sistine Chapel Choir sing for mass. as we walked back up the Gianicolo hill, Nick and i marveled at what incredible memories we were making. Thanksgiving 2018: Thanksgiving 2019: napkins shaped like bishops' miters in hon

  dear cecilia-bedelia,  as i type this, i'm sitting on our front porch on this gorgeous November afternoon (70 degrees!) and you are flying up and down on the swing attached to our magnolia tree, singing with all of your might. "la la la la! la la la la!" then you hop down, run into the house, and emerge with a plastic cup full of water. "mommy, i meed to water the tree so it can grow new leaves!" a few minutes later, you've run back to the backyard to get a shovel so you can scoop up the dirt that spilled when our chrysanthemums fell over in a gust of wind a while ago. "mommy, i meed to water these petunias, too!" then the singing resumes: "ay-o, ay-o, five little ducks went out one day, over the hill and far away! ay-o, ay-o, ay!"  this little vignette so perfectly encapsulates your exuberant personality. you are always singing, always aware of the people and things around you. you deal with some big negative feelings, too -- tears of