How do you measure a year?

Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes.
Five hundred twenty five thousand moments so dear.
How do you measure, 

Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes.

Measure a year? 

It's the eve of Ellie's first birthday and I'm sitting in a dark living room looking at the birthday decorations surrounding me.  They are haphazard, and a bit lazy if I'm being honest, and I'm mad at myself for not being more on top of this.  I should have a big celebration planned, I should be buying platters and ordering pizzas to feed friends and family.   But I'm not.  Not for lack of hoping I guess, we all know the lockdown situation that is upon us.  I think back in the summer we all assumed this wouldn't be a big deal by now.   No one expected Christmas to be cancelled.  But having a December baby means not only is Christmas cancelled, but so are big giant 1st birthday parties.  This isn't a COVID blog, I promise.  It factors in for sure, because now this is completely ingrained in every part of our lives.  

I think about the year that has gone by, and try as I might, I cannot piece together where this time has gone.   I was looking forward to spending long summer days out with the kids at family friendly places.  The Zoo was our first choice, Telus Spark, Heritage Park, Calaway.... anything outdoors to soak up every last minute.  But that didn't work out and to be perfectly honest, I don't know what we did instead.  I have a few memories but I can't tell you that I had the best summer of my life.   There's a lot of people feeling this sense of "cherish these times" and "you won't get another summer home with your kids".  Well, you're right, we (probably) won't, and I'm okay with that.  This was shit.  Every day in my house there is one conversation or another about the headlines, and usually leads to me shutting down.  I don't know how else to process this; analyzing it or fighting about it isn't the way.  People say I'm lucky to have been off this year on maternity leave.  But I don't think I agree.  In the beginning I had an infant with practically zero immunity to anything let alone this, I have an uncle who lives in a long-term care facility and small handful of other people in the "danger" categories.   I was okay staying home and not doing much, and three months postpartum I wasn't really doing all that much anyway.  But we wanted to go home to Ontario for a bit, maybe even Nova Scotia.  A late summer Vegas trip was certainly going to happen.  So far we have gone to Edmonton for two days and renovated our basement.   A few road trips out to a day-use camp site and that's all she wrote.   I have let my boss know of my official return to work date and I've let the dayhome know that she's getting a new munchkin shortly.  I'm not really handling that well actually.  

In daylights?   Absolutely, I've been up all hours of almost everyday the last year.
In sunsets?  Of course, it's my favourite time of day because it means bedtime is soon.
In midnights? I can't even count how many midnights I've seen since she was born. 
In cups of coffee?  I've developed a new addiction on mat leave... coffee.  I fought it, but it won.
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife?  All day every day.  She crawled inches, she could run a mile now if I let her.  She has learned to smile at a camera, and she is pushing through 3 new molars. 

I am fortunate to live in a country that provides a whole year for Maternity leave.  I am fortunate to work for a company that is considered essential and I know I have a job to go back to.  I have a husband who provides for us, day in and day out, without flinching.   He shows up.  Not figuratively, but literally.  If I'm in the shits after having two kids all day he picks up my slack.  I know men who don't pick up the fucking mail let alone help around the house and with the kids AND makes sure their wife is happy and calm.   I wonder what I did to deserve him and I chuckle at the exes in his life who missed out.  This guy made one of my best friends a huge spaghetti dinner including homemade bread because she needed a bit of love and a break.  He's my daylight, and my midnight and my laughter.  And sometimes my strife ;). 

In five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes.
How do you measure a year in a life?

Not too long ago I spent the better half of my afternoon/night in the hospital with Ellie.  She's okay, but after some alarming skin issues and a fever her doctor told me to go to emergency.   Dad was home in twenty minutes and I was at the hospital 8 minutes later.   She's okay.  The skin issue (her hands were turning blue/purple) is a normal thing the doctor told me, from six feet away, it means the blood isn't needed there and it's traveling to the brain or the heart to help out.   He ran a battery of tests and sent me on my way. You know what's not fun?  Entertaining an 11 month old in a six by eight room for two hours.   Why is this a part of my story tonight?  Because it's real life.  Not everyday is playgrounds and dog walks and Peloton rides.   I watch Ellie learn and grow, I see her watching her sisters' actions and I know she admires her big sister. I watch Madison learn from her dad and I, from her best friends at daycare. I see that every day she is learning, growing and becoming herself.    Just the other day they were playing in the living room and I was in the kitchen.   Something happened that I didn't see, but I asked Madison what happened?  I'm sure my tone was too rough, accusatory even, and she knew it.  She balled herself up on the carpet and yelled "Why do you always blame me for things?!"  It hurt to my core.  I dropped everything I was doing and I sat and held her.  I try to tell her how proud of her I am, how she's such a good big sister.  I look back at pictures of her when we brought Ellie home from the hospital.  She has changed so much.  She was practically a baby herself, and now she's grown.  She is starting to learn to read, we are counting to 100, she knows what to do in an emergency, she makes her own lunch most days.  My baby girl is a full on kid.  My baby is toddler.  A walking, talking toddler. 

How about love?

How about love?

How about love?

Measure in love

Seasons of love

Seasons of love 

I put Ellie to bed tonight and as I looked around her room I cried.  I looked at the change table where thousands of bare bums have been wiped, where she laid that first weekend home and I didn't have enough baby clothes.  I ran to the store and bought tiny little premie outfits because she seemed so small.  (She outgrew them in like 8 days).  I looked at the size 5 diapers on the shelf, how is that where we are?  The next step is Pull-Ups!  Like I can't handle that.  I looked at the tv on the wall.  The hours and hours I spent watching tv while nursing her back in the beginning of the year.  Remember all the trash tv we watched in the beginning of lockdown?  Yeah, well I had a three month head start.  I watched Love is Blind (did you know Jessica is older than Mark?! lol) I watched the Circle.  I was the first of anyone I know to finish Tiger King (I don't think Carole did it, fight me).  I got my money out of our Netflix subscription this year that's for sure!  I look at the crib, on it's last depth, as this kid is a climber.  Maddy is a jumper, kid will and does jump on or off anything.  Ellie though, she climbs.  If you give her a ledge and a grip she'll climb it.   As I got into bed last night I asked Mike what we do after this stage?  Madison had a weird little toddler bed and that didn't last long so we bought a big ass double bed.  Here ya go kid, don't fall out.  Because Ellie is a climber we decided to keep the crib lowered and leave her in it longer than we did Madison.  I'm measuring this year by Ellie's bed situation!  Bassinet at my bedside, crib on level 1, then 2, then 3, and the preparations to move them to the same room.   Where have my babies gone?

I look at her walls, empty mostly, she doesn't care much about anything yet, but she does love Baby Shark and Sesame Street so I suppose I have to decorate for her.   I look at her closet, bursting at the seams from all the clothes I kept when Maddy was younger.  I think of how much laundry this makes, I wonder if we should become nudists.  Hmm, nope.  Well, shit, I hate laundry.  If there's time to watch tv nowadays it's on Sunday nights after I've spent the day doing 17 loads of laundry and I'll drink some beer while finally putting it away.  But I love seeing the laundry pile move from preemie clothes to toddler size,  from itty bitty baby clothes to pants and tshirts, from not even needing shoes to buying socks with grippy feet.    My year is measured in laundry.   One child who is capable of putting it away but will think of seventy six other things to do instead.  Like mother like daughter I suppose.  One child who will destroy any basket of folded laundry I put in front of her so I no longer bother.  

Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes.
Five hundred twenty five thousand journeys to plan.
Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes.
How do you measure a life of a woman or a man?

 

Christmas is only two weeks away.  I don't remember last Christmas, I was in the throws of post-partum and I'm not even sure I'll remember this one to be fair.  We went from a tiny, crying baby girl to a kid running around our kitchen island chasing her big sister.  It's turned us upside down and I can only be grateful that she won't remember the shit show she was born into.  I will but, that's not how I'll measure this year.

It's in cuddles, it's in late night feedings.  It's in new words (at a year she's saying 'mama, dada, bye-bye,  bubba, baby, nono and down). It's seeing her learn to cuddle the dog instead of pinching him, it's hanging out with her best friend Scarlett, it's hearing her say bye-bye to Daddy when he leaves for work in the morning.  I'm not sure how I'll leave her on January 4th.   

She's going to embark on a whole new year of accomplishments and milestones.  I'm not ready.  I need to cuddle her for just a bit longer.  My year isn't over just yet.  

In truths that she learned,
or in times that he cried?
In bridges he burned,
or the way that she died?
though the story never ends.
Let's celebrate remember a year in a life of friends

It's time now to sing out,

though the story never ends.
Let's celebrate remember a year in a life
of friends

Remember the love...
(Oh, you've got to you've got to remember the love)
Remember the love...
(You know the love is a gift from up above)
Remember the love...
(Share love, give love, spray love, measure your life in love.)
Seasons of love...Seasons of love...

Please be kind to everyone this season.  We all need it.  

Phew, that got me bawling.... link to the song, probably my favourite song of all time.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UvyHuse6buY