Making Use...

Another Christening at Wye House

The first weekend in May we drove up to the Eastern Shore of Maryland for "Baptismpalooza", where our neice, Althea, was Christened with several of her young cousins.  [You may remember Henry's Christening back in 2009?]  We traveled through the rain on Cinco de Mayo, which made me think of Isis, (oh, Isis, you mystical child), stopped for dinner around DC, and crossed the Chesapeake in the day's last light.

The next day we were up early with our toddler and strolled around Easton, where the streets were quiet and most every business was closed on Sunday morning.

Amongst all the children being baptised, Althea, at just over two months, was the tiniest baby in the ceremony, and she slept through the entire event.  Water on her head and all.  What a star!

Flora ran around outside beforehand and found an orange that had fallen from one of the potted orange trees.

Quite a gathering. 

Unfortunately, I experienced a communication breakdown with the two others to whom I handed off my camera (God-Mother duties called me upfront during the ceremony), and so there are no actual pictures of Althea, or any of the children, being sprinkled with Holy water.  Oh well.  It happened.

Althea with her mother and great grandmother:

Four generations of women (plus brother Henry!):

After the service there was a luncheon in the backyard.  Crab cakes, mac 'n cheese, roasted veggies, biscuits...  The usual deliciousness.

Flora and Brooke were born 12 hours apart.  We think someday they might find that coincidence kind of cool.  But this was not that day.

Althea in the Blue Room:

Congrats, my sweet God-baby.  May your spirit always be flush with both peace and wonder!  

3 Years In

Today I have been married for three years.  Todd and I high-fived in the kitchen this morning over that one.

Three years sounds to my ears like a long time, but if doesn't feel like it's been all that long.  

Except when I stop and think of all the things we've done since our wedding...  That's when it all adds up.  

We've bought an old house in town and a large piece of county land with a historic pool in the middle of it; we manage multiple businesses and properties; we've traveled many, many miles by planes, trains, and automobiles; we've made babies; we have grown separately together and together separately.  I've baked us so many countless trays of granola and Todd has made me watch shared with me a bazillion Washington Nationals' games.  In the past three years I have experienced my life's highest highs and lowest lows.  I am eternally grateful for the husband who has been right there with me.

Last year, for our second anniversary, we left our four-week old baby at home, sleeping soundly in the arms of her grandmother, and raced off to dinner at Bizou.  We sat side-by-side in a booth, just how we like it, and I probably had a glass of wine.  Because I was nursing full-time, we hurried back home after dinner only to find Flora still sound asleep and content.  That was the first time I'd left the baby.  I remember it was a strange thrill to sit with my husband in the restaurant, knowing that we had a kid back at home, feeling free and full and content with the richness of our life.  

This year we decided to go away for a night.  While we've both traveled away from home for at least a couple of nights throughout the year, this would be only the second time we've been away overnight together.  We thought about going to this city or that, researching inns and hotels, music venues and possible itineraries for a Saturday night without a child.  In the end we realized we'd have just as much fun staying in Charlottesville, going to dinner downtown, seeing a show at the Jefferson, and waking slowly in the morning.

I booked us a room at the South Street Inn and on late Saturday afternoon we caught the free trolley a block from our house and made the short commute to the Downtown Mall.  Within 20 minutes of our departure we were checked into our room, laying on the bed eating homemade cookies with a fire flickering in the fireplace.  "Thank God we finally made it," we teased.

We ate dinner at The Whiskey Jar and then went to see the Cowboy Junkies play at the Jefferson.  

His:

Hers:

Ten and a half years ago, when we were just on the cusp of relationship territory, Todd and I watched the Cowboy Junkies for about 45 seconds.  We had taken a group of Field Campers to Yellowstone National Park for a week of western adventure, and on our last night we went out for pizza in Bozeman, Montana.  The Junkies were playing at a venue down the street and we left the group out front and managed to poke our heads in the back of the dark theater just long enough to make a memory and a silent commitment to catch full concert someday in the future.  So there we were on Saturday night, sitting in the upper, upper balcony, being lulled to sleep (in the best possible way) by Margo Timmins' voice.  I took this picture during Sweet Jane:

We ducked out early (because I was ready to lay down on the floor and close my eyes while grooving--apparently it's been a while since I've been out to hear live music and I'm woefully out of practice) and split a nutella/banana crepe on our way back to the inn.  Why do crepes taste so good after 10 o'clock at night?

The next morning was sunny and warm-ish, so we loaded up trays full of Greek yogurt, granola, fat red strawberries, lemon poppyseed bread, some other kind of yummy bread, hard boiled eggs, cups of hot coffee--and then added fresh orange scones that had just come out of the oven--and took a newspaper to the front porch where we ate and read.  It was just like old times.  Those old times when you could read a whole paper in one sitting, drink two cups of coffee, and eat slowly and mindlessly.  When the wind made us too chilly we took the remainder of the paper back to bed, with more fresh chocolate chip cookies, where the fire was still going.  Finally I realized we had to checkout of all this luxury--and soon!

We walked to the transit station and caught another trolley back home, just in time to put Flora down for a mid-day nap.  

I kept saying to Todd, "this is so fun," and I really meant it.  We were tourists in our own town, sort of, and it felt kind of goofy and kind of amazing.  Our baby is the best thing ever (ever!) and she sleeps like a champ, but it was still nice to steal away for a night, to do a few things we used to do (like go see a live show and read the Sunday paper over breakfast), and especially to do it so locally and conveniently.  My favorite parts were the fireplace in our room, the slow breakfast, and the late-night crepe.  Todd's favorite parts were the drive time and something too delicate to mention here.  

In sum?

Staycation in your hometown?  I highly recommend it.

Marriage to your best partner?  I highly recommend it.  

Todd and Mere, Three Years In, Charlottesville, VA, March 2012

Hello, Little Girl

This week I have been wonderfully distracted by the arrival of my new niece, Althea.  She is such a beauty, such a love.  

I spent a couple hours with Carter, Maggie, Henry, and Althea yesterday and got to hold the little lady for quite a while, hearing all about her beautiful birth, feeling her stretch and relax again in my arms.  She is the first newborn I have cradled since my daughter was born one year ago.  It felt wonderful.

Meanwhile, Flora and Henry have become big buddies, just in the last few weeks.  It is exciting to picture this troupe of kids playing together in the coming years.  

And Flora got to pat, pat, pat her first newborn, too.  She was very gentle and sweet, which made me quite proud.  It's so obvious to even type this... but I cannot believe how far we have come in one year.

Henry's arrival, nearly three years ago, was so thrilling.  He was the first grandbaby for my parents, the first child of my siblings.  It was easy to love him and all the newness he represented.  But now I feel a much deeper and more experienced love as our family grows further, which comes from knowing my nieces and nephews (on both sides of the family) and knowing my own feelings as a mother.  That, too, feels wonderful.

[Official baby photo shoot to follow in the next few weeks.]

The Week Begins

Been quiet here on the blog for a couple of weeks as we had some major sickness run through our household plus other life and work obligations that kept me from my desk.  I'm happy to report that the vomiting has ceased, the baby is joyful, the mother can breathe from her nose again, the daffodils are poking through, and all is well in this tiny corner of the world.  

-- This weekend Todd and Flora celebrated their birthdays.  As I whisked up semi-sweet chocolate ganache frosting for their cake on Saturday morning, I realized I was so excited about the sweet little birthday party we had planned for the afternoon, and for the dinner date for me and my love that evening.  I have a new favorite day all year and it falls in early February.  I think I've been looking forward to baking Flora's birthday cake since she arrived last year, and it turned out beautifully.  It was a simple chocolate cake with choclate frosting, but I made it myself, infusing it with all my motherly and wifely love, and I was proud to serve it to my family and friends on Saturday.  The recipes I used for cake and icing were torn together from a Real Simple magazine sometime in the last 12 months.  Because we all know: if a recipe is not real simple, Meredith's not even going to bother!

-- On Facebook last month I saw a link to this letter that John Steinbeck wrote to his son in 1958.  His son was a young teenager who had written home to announce that he'd fallen in love at boarding school, and Steinbeck replies in the most thoughtful, respectful, and loving way that any adult could.  I appreciate how he honors his child's feelings and encourages him to "glory in it [...] and be very glad and grateful for it."  

-- Also on the subject of love, sort of.... I enjoyed this post from tulips & flight suits about being single.  I think Mary's advice is prudent not only for those who haven't yet started the life they hope to live, but also for those of us who have.  Whether you are single or married, content or searching, I feel it's always a good idea to embrace your life as it is, to surround yourself with beauty and good people, and to focus on what you have and what you can do with that.  Sounds trite, I know, but it is a scientific fact that a large part of being happy is making yourself happy.  (That's another post).

-- I watched this video recently and really enjoyed it.  Iceland looks so unbe-freakin-lievably stunning.  I think I must go there.  Interesting soundtrack, too.

-- Finally, returning to the subject of being happy, I started a new board on Pinterest last week.  I call it "MerryMakers" and it's just a collection of things that make me happy and lift my spirits, so that if I'm ever in need of a simple pick-me-up I can look at it and be made merry.  I can also use it as a reminder that going out for coffee, baking some cookies or granola, kissing a baby, etc... would probably be a wise move to improve a sour mood instantly.  I plan to continue adding to this board and ask that you consider making one also.  Share it here in the comments so that I (and others) can be made merry by the things you love, too!

I hope you have a heart-warming week.    

First Birthday Cake, Charlottesville, VA, February 4, 2012.  

Instagram.

The Sweetest Wait

A year ago today:

... We were in the homestretch!  

My due date was approaching, but I didn't know yet that my baby would arrive thirteen days later.  Or that she would be a girl.  Because she came one week early, I never quite got to the point of impatience.  Instead, I remember feeling like every day in those last weeks was really special.  And so nearly every detail of what I did, what I ate, who I saw, etc... is emblazoned in my memory.  

I'm so glad to have these portraits, too, because I really loved being pregnant, and I feel like Jen captured that beautifully.  

Meredith, 37 Weeks, Charlottesville, VA, January 22, 2011.

Photos by Jen Fariello Photography

 

Bo & Flora

My daughter's first name, Flora, is inspired by my grandmother's name.  We call my grandmother Bo, which is a variation of 'Flo', which is short for Flora.  To her grandchildren, Bo has always been Bo, and our Flora is never Flo (though sometimes Dora).  Do you follow?

This fall, while I was working really hard at my desk, my mom would come over, pick up my baby, and take her to visit my grandmother.  They would return home with stories about how Flora had charmed every person at the Martha Jefferson House, making appearances in the dining room at lunch, smiling at the doorman on her way in and out of the building.  How she liked to climb around Bo's walker, how she like to play with the assortment of tennis bracelets on her wrist.  Flora was seeing far more of Bo than I was and they were building a little relationship.  

Then, the week before Christmas, Bo entered the hospital with pneumonia.  At first the hospital stay seemed to be a precaution, then it was a necessity as her health took a turn for the worse.  And then one night nearly all the family (daughters, husbands, grandchildren, husband of grandchild, great-grandbaby) crowded into her hospital room and filled every seat and corner.  Bo slept under our eyes.  She looked to me like a woman who was dying.  After the room emptied out, Flora and I went back to give her kisses and say goodbye.

But Bo lived through the night.  And the next day she was much improved.  And so a few days later she left the hospital and returned to her home.  And then it was nearly Christmas.

My 92-year old grandmother declared that all she wanted for Christmas was for all of her family to be around her, and to eat some candy.  Done and done!

I like looking at these pictures and knowing that the arms holding my baby once held me as a child, and my mother before me.  I feel so fortunate to see Flora and Flora together.  

Flora and Flora, Charlottesville, VA, December 22, 2011.

Bo gave Flora an Olivia doll for Christmas and we were shocked and amused to see that the two little critters matched!  Flora and Todd read about Olivia nearly every night before bed. 

(Flora got her own walker for Christmas.)  

Our Fifth Year On The Porch...

We have come a long way in 5 years!  

Taking this picture on December 23rd was easy peezy lemon squeezy, as far as getting everyone outside and smiling towards the camera.  I'd say for a growing family of this size that that's a pretty proud accomplishment.  

David, Meredith, Flora, Todd, Percy, Anne, Maggie, Henry, Carter, and Ellie,

Schuyler, VA, December 23, 2011.

2010, 2009, 2008, 2007

Welcome, 2012

I'm so glad you are here.  

2011 was possiby the best year of my life, but it was hard, too.  

This past fall nearly knocked me down flat, and navigating my new role as a working mother over the last 11 months forced me to reexamine my goals, values, and identity.  Exhaustion, frustration, moments of despair...  I've felt all of these powerful forces in 2011.

Overwhelmingly, however, 2011 rewarded me like no other year in my life.  

I had the immense pleasure of photographing more couples this year than ever before, and those jobs took me to Maine (twice!), Massachusetts, New Jersey, West Virginia, Washington, DC, and all over Virginia.  I realized this year, in the middle of one wedding in particular, that I actually fall in love with my couples over the course of my working relationship with them.  I'm convinced that I collaborate with some of the nicest, most gracious, thoughtful, and beautiful people out there, and I am grateful for their trust in me.

My greatest accomplishment and most wondrous joy of 2011 is my daugther, Flora.  I suppose I don't really consider her to be an accomplishment, per se, as I find her so marvelously miraculous that I can hardly believe she is made of my bones and blood.  But as her mother, I do feel a compelling sense of accomplishment---for her birth, her survival, her daily thriving.  Motherhood, though incredibly challenging, of course, comes naturally to me, and I credit my instincts to the good mothering I experienced in my own childhood (and to this day).  I am grateful to my mother, my daughter, and my husband, who are all making this experience so emotional and special for me.  

2011 was a banner year, both personally and professionally, and now 2012 looks to be... a little something different...  But I am thinking it will bring a lot more of the same, if you know what I mean.  I am grateful to have the opportunity for more.

Hope your 2012 is looking bright as sunshine.

Flora, 10+ Months, Charlottesville, VA, December 21, 2011.  

P.S. What what of resolutions, you ask?  Okay.  I resolve to take up running again (did you know I ran a season of cross country in college?!).  But not until September.  I resolve not to run until September.  How's that?  

In Honor Of Labor Day...

...I am finally writing the story of Flora's birth, which happened in our home on a sunny, winter's morning, attended by our wonderful midwives.  It was the most exciting morning of my life.  

Sometimes it is hard to find the words to describe monumental experiences.  But I am looking, and I will find them.

I am thankful that we have photographs, too, most of which Todd made when I could not.

Resting between contractions, 38 minutes before the birth, Charlottesville, VA, February 4, 2011.

A Mystery Roll

One of the joys of shooting film (there are many joys, in fact, but that's another piece of prose) is the anticipation that builds in the time between when a picture is created in the camera and when you actually see it rendered before you as a negative, a positive, a print, a scan, or whatever.  

Sometimes this anticipation is especially heightened when a roll of film has lingered an especially long time between these states of being.  Sometimes it sits in the camera, half-exposed, or maybe in a deep pocket of the camera bag, overlooked, or perhaps on the edge of the desk, ignored.  You anticipate seeing the latent images not only because they're bound to be good (so good) but because you cannot, for the life of you, remember what you photographed.

This, I like to call a mystery roll.

I found one of these little mysteries two weeks ago.  In camera.  A roll of slide film.  From some time between late October and, um, mid-August.  

A total mystery roll.  Sixteen frames of who knew what.  Actually, it was eleven frames of who knew what and five frames in my house, which I quicly fired off so that I could take the darn thing to the lab.  Anticipation fo' sho'.

Today I got the roll back and here is some of what I discovered:

I honestly have no idea where this picture was made.  No idea.  But, actually, I do remember it being somewhere between Cuba and the North Pole.

And I know from this shirt that I was somewhere in the third trimester of pregnancy at the time of this roll's debut. 

Okay, so we're in the northern hemisphere and I am packin' some baby heat....  Got that?

This portrait of Todd doesn't shed much light on the mystery.  Except that his hair is quite short here, which I remember came about with a self-styled hair cut sometime before Christmas...

Aha!  

The big reveal!  

Little Rock Central High School.  

Therefore, this roll dates back to our Texas road trip over Thanksgiving week, 2010.  

{Victory dance}

And then I discovered several frames of Deep Eddy Pool in Austin, Texas.  From the same trip.  

And then, apparently, I put that camera down for 9 months.  During which time I birthed a baby girl, who sometimes hangs out in this little crib for about 7 or 8 minutes while I get some work done.

She, by far, is my best subject yet.

{Ever?}

Afterword: There is currently a disposable Kodak camera in the pocket behind the driver's seat in my car.  It's been there for a couple of years.  Leise, I think that mystery might be yours???