I strapped Harrison into the baby carrier today and started off on a walk to the park in our beautiful 70 degree Los Angeles weather. Typical weather, typical routine, typical destination, but within two minutes of leaving our apartment, the atypical hit hard, and the events of it have left me processing over the past few hours.
I was walking near an apartment a street down from ours when a man came running out of the courtyard, frantic, with a wild look in his eyes. He was screaming with terror- Help! Help! Somebody help me! My baby!
And then he ran back inside.
As someone who takes a long time to process anything (wait a few days after watching to ask me how I liked a movie), I was frozen in my steps for a moment, stomach churning, having no idea how to proceed. For a quick second I considered turning around and avoiding the situation altogether- so many things were flashing through my mind and I thought maybe it was just a ploy, and following him would lead me to an unsafe place- he just looked that crazy. But the next second I got my bearings together and ran to the entrance of the courtyard to help- only to find a locked wrought iron gate preventing me from doing anything but listening and watching.
There were a few more bystanders inside the courtyard, and one was pacing back and forth, on the phone, presumably with 911. I locked eyes with him and motioned the notion of asking if I could help, and he shrugged. It seemed like no one really knew what was going on. I heard screaming and crying and since there was already an emergency call in place, I walked down the street and prayed. It was such a vague prayer, but I knew at minimum that man needed comfort and his baby needed help.
I walked back when I saw the 911 caller walk out onto the sidewalk and asked him what was going on. Apparently the baby was sleeping and would not wake up.
My stomach sank. My worst nightmare since becoming a mother. One of the reasons why, 10 months in, I still check on Harrison every few minutes to be sure he is breathing. I don't know when I'll find the confidence to stop that habit.
With an ambulance on the way, I waited on the sidewalk with a small group of people who had also tried to respond to the Dad's initial cries. Then the Mom came out with her baby, a little girl probably two or three years old. Limp body, eyes closed, her Mom shaking her hands, pinching her toes, patting her cheeks, asking "Is she dead?" And frantically asking where the ambulance was. It was all too much, standing there with my very awake baby strapped in the carrier on me, putting myself in this mother's shoes. All I could do was point down the street where I saw the ambulance on the way, and wave it over when it got closer.
I stepped a ways away when the paramedics got out and the little girl was thrust into their arms. I heard minimal conversation, and I didn't want to snoop; whatever role I had in this situation was over and it was time to continue on my way. The little girl WAS breathing, and the paramedics were doing what they could to calm the parents down while tending to the child.
I continued on my way to the park, turning to look behind me every so often, checking to see if the ambulance had left yet. It was still parked on the street for the few minutes the location was still in my viewpoint.
I shed a few tears as I walked away, for the parents, and for the little girl, and for Harrison, and for every parent. Emotions run deeper than we realize they can, especially when it comes to our children. The crazy, frantic look of the Dad that made me initially doubt my safety- it was the crazy, frantic look of a man who is wildly in love with his daughter, and couldn't fathom her potentially being in danger. I know we all have that crazy in us, and just as much as I hope not many of us end up in circumstances that unleash it, I hope for this family that everything is perfectly fine, and the little girl will be riding her bike down the sidewalk tomorrow- that they can get back to their typical.
Friday, March 10, 2017
Tuesday, March 7, 2017
These Days
I have nothing pressing to write about, and when that's the case I have a hard time writing eloquently.
My days are currently filled with Harrison, no news there.
I chose to be a stay-at-home Mom. That is what made the most sense for me and Jeremy, and we knew before we started our family that we didn't want any outside childcare for our kids. For us, and the way we want to live our lives, starting a family meant making certain sacrifices so that I could stay home with our baby.
I stayed home exclusively with Harrison for his first five months, and every moment has been special (the difficult moments included, even as they are a different kind of special, haha.)
But we live in Los Angeles, and we have student loans, and those two factors do not make an equation that equals one-income family. So I started some occasional babysitting in Harrison's sixth month, and in months seven and eight that turned in to being out of the house with him to watch other kids every weekday. Starting in July, Harrison and I will have a full 40-hour work week together, while I look after him and a baby who happens to be the sister of a boy I nannied for 2.5 years.
My point? Well as mentioned already, eloquence isn't strong right now, but it's something about how being a stay at home parent requires sacrifices, and being a working parent requires sacrifices, and being a work at home parent requires sacrifices, and just being a parent in general requires sacrifices. There's no avoiding those sacrifices, and they look different for everyone.
If I had the option, I would dedicate all of my "work" energy just to Harrison. But I can't right now, so I'm doing the next best thing for our situation. I love being home or on adventures with just him, and it is a bit of an emotional sacrifice to be doing things differently, but I am happy that I can still be there as his primary caregiver 24 hours a day, he just happens to have some other kids to play with during some of those hours. I am also happy to be forming relationships with these other children and it is a lot of fun to see Harrison learning how to play with other kids. Working full-time with him will be different, and some days difficult, but it will be good, and I am excited about it.
I figured for a long while that once Harrison was "old enough" I'd start working outside of the home on a very part-time basis doing post-partum and birth doula work. But he's 10 months old and still doesn't feel "old enough." My parenting style keeps me with him all the time, and I am so not ready to give that up. My passion for pregnancy and birth is part of my larger passion for families and children. So while the right time will someday come for me to be a more consistent support for women in labor, I am choosing to enjoy this time in my life with the families who let me in their lives by entrusting me with their children. Harrison and I are both thankful for them!
My days are currently filled with Harrison, no news there.
I chose to be a stay-at-home Mom. That is what made the most sense for me and Jeremy, and we knew before we started our family that we didn't want any outside childcare for our kids. For us, and the way we want to live our lives, starting a family meant making certain sacrifices so that I could stay home with our baby.
I stayed home exclusively with Harrison for his first five months, and every moment has been special (the difficult moments included, even as they are a different kind of special, haha.)
But we live in Los Angeles, and we have student loans, and those two factors do not make an equation that equals one-income family. So I started some occasional babysitting in Harrison's sixth month, and in months seven and eight that turned in to being out of the house with him to watch other kids every weekday. Starting in July, Harrison and I will have a full 40-hour work week together, while I look after him and a baby who happens to be the sister of a boy I nannied for 2.5 years.
My point? Well as mentioned already, eloquence isn't strong right now, but it's something about how being a stay at home parent requires sacrifices, and being a working parent requires sacrifices, and being a work at home parent requires sacrifices, and just being a parent in general requires sacrifices. There's no avoiding those sacrifices, and they look different for everyone.
If I had the option, I would dedicate all of my "work" energy just to Harrison. But I can't right now, so I'm doing the next best thing for our situation. I love being home or on adventures with just him, and it is a bit of an emotional sacrifice to be doing things differently, but I am happy that I can still be there as his primary caregiver 24 hours a day, he just happens to have some other kids to play with during some of those hours. I am also happy to be forming relationships with these other children and it is a lot of fun to see Harrison learning how to play with other kids. Working full-time with him will be different, and some days difficult, but it will be good, and I am excited about it.
I figured for a long while that once Harrison was "old enough" I'd start working outside of the home on a very part-time basis doing post-partum and birth doula work. But he's 10 months old and still doesn't feel "old enough." My parenting style keeps me with him all the time, and I am so not ready to give that up. My passion for pregnancy and birth is part of my larger passion for families and children. So while the right time will someday come for me to be a more consistent support for women in labor, I am choosing to enjoy this time in my life with the families who let me in their lives by entrusting me with their children. Harrison and I are both thankful for them!
Tuesday, February 28, 2017
Sour Sour Sauerkraut
I pulled a purple cabbage out of my fridge the other night, and as I started cutting it up and prepping it to make sauerkraut, I began to get excited for a day in the future when Harrison will help me with that task.
Oi, my kids are going to be so ... weird? The same type of weird as our little family, it's really all good, but I can kind of see it now ... the day Harrison realizes that his friends don't cut up cabbage and pour salt on it and squeeze and pound it until it is wilted and sitting in a self-made brine.
Hah, sorry buddy. But also not sorry.
It's actually because of Harrison that I'm even eating sauerkraut these days. I've never enjoyed the stuff, but real, raw, fermented sauerkraut is incredibly healthy- given the gut-enhancing properties of the beneficial bacteria and enzymes that form, and the vitamins that are already present in raw cabbage- and I wanted to set a good example for him, so I started making it and eating it. These days I find myself almost enjoying it, and Harrison willingly chomps down on it without making any faces. A success for now!
One wonderful thing about sauerkraut is that it is enormously nutritious while also very inexpensive. A three pound head of cabbage and about two tablespoons of good quality sea salt will yield almost two quarts of sauerkraut, with quick and easy preparation and then a waiting period to allow the beneficial bacteria to work its magic.
If I'm dreaming of my 10-month-old helping me with our household ferments in just a few short months, you have good reason to believe you can start some of your own today, and enjoy tangy, crunchy, healthy sauerkraut in just a few weeks!
Ingredients
•1 head of cabbage (3lbs or so)
•1-2 tablespoons of sea salt (I use coarse grey Celtic sea salt. Pink Himalayan also works well.)
•4 quart mixing bowl (or comparable)
•2 quart glass jar (I use two one-quart mason jars)
•glass weights (or comparable)
Method
1. Peel away any undesirable leaves from the cabbage, then cut off the end, slice in half, and remove the core. (If you're using a purple cabbage, take a moment to appreciate the beauty of it.)
2. Coarsely chop the cabbage to whatever size pieces you prefer. 1/2 inch wide ribbons or squares work well.
3. Layer the chopped cabbage and salt in the mixing bowl.
4. Put on a TV show or some good music and then get to work massaging the salt into the cabbage pieces, squeezing, pounding, pulling, whatever. Just play with it for a while.
5. After some time (10-15 minutes) you'll see the cabbage has become noticeably wilted and there will be some brine at the bottom of the bowl.
6. Tightly pack the cabbage into a jar and use glass weights, clean stones, or perfectly-sized cups, etc to push all of the cabbage under its brine.
7. Set the jar out of the way and once or twice a day be sure the cabbage is under the brine (it will form more brine, so don't worry if there's not enough the first day.)
8. Wait at least a week before removing the weights and putting a lid on the jar to transfer it to the fridge. You can wait months if you're patient enough; just eat when the flavor is right for you!
Please allow some poor quality iPhone photos solely for the purpose of illustrating the steps above.
Happy fermenting!
Oi, my kids are going to be so ... weird? The same type of weird as our little family, it's really all good, but I can kind of see it now ... the day Harrison realizes that his friends don't cut up cabbage and pour salt on it and squeeze and pound it until it is wilted and sitting in a self-made brine.
Hah, sorry buddy. But also not sorry.
It's actually because of Harrison that I'm even eating sauerkraut these days. I've never enjoyed the stuff, but real, raw, fermented sauerkraut is incredibly healthy- given the gut-enhancing properties of the beneficial bacteria and enzymes that form, and the vitamins that are already present in raw cabbage- and I wanted to set a good example for him, so I started making it and eating it. These days I find myself almost enjoying it, and Harrison willingly chomps down on it without making any faces. A success for now!
One wonderful thing about sauerkraut is that it is enormously nutritious while also very inexpensive. A three pound head of cabbage and about two tablespoons of good quality sea salt will yield almost two quarts of sauerkraut, with quick and easy preparation and then a waiting period to allow the beneficial bacteria to work its magic.
If I'm dreaming of my 10-month-old helping me with our household ferments in just a few short months, you have good reason to believe you can start some of your own today, and enjoy tangy, crunchy, healthy sauerkraut in just a few weeks!
Ingredients
•1 head of cabbage (3lbs or so)
•1-2 tablespoons of sea salt (I use coarse grey Celtic sea salt. Pink Himalayan also works well.)
•4 quart mixing bowl (or comparable)
•2 quart glass jar (I use two one-quart mason jars)
•glass weights (or comparable)
Method
1. Peel away any undesirable leaves from the cabbage, then cut off the end, slice in half, and remove the core. (If you're using a purple cabbage, take a moment to appreciate the beauty of it.)
2. Coarsely chop the cabbage to whatever size pieces you prefer. 1/2 inch wide ribbons or squares work well.
3. Layer the chopped cabbage and salt in the mixing bowl.
4. Put on a TV show or some good music and then get to work massaging the salt into the cabbage pieces, squeezing, pounding, pulling, whatever. Just play with it for a while.
5. After some time (10-15 minutes) you'll see the cabbage has become noticeably wilted and there will be some brine at the bottom of the bowl.
6. Tightly pack the cabbage into a jar and use glass weights, clean stones, or perfectly-sized cups, etc to push all of the cabbage under its brine.
7. Set the jar out of the way and once or twice a day be sure the cabbage is under the brine (it will form more brine, so don't worry if there's not enough the first day.)
8. Wait at least a week before removing the weights and putting a lid on the jar to transfer it to the fridge. You can wait months if you're patient enough; just eat when the flavor is right for you!
Please allow some poor quality iPhone photos solely for the purpose of illustrating the steps above.
 |
| marvel in the almost trippy beauty of purple cabbage |
 |
| three pounds of cabbage, two tablespoons of salt, I promise it decreases in volume |
 |
| finished product, with glass cups sitting on top to keep the cabbage below its brine |
Happy fermenting!
Monday, February 20, 2017
My Soapbox
The other day I did something that I purposefully make a habit of not doing- I initiated and engaged in discussion of a hotly debated subject in an online community of Moms.
Three of my stronger personality traits are being quiet, reserved, and avoiding conflict. An instigator I am not. Argumentative?- Nope. Do I enjoy a healthy debate? I'd rather observe.
But I have passions. Ooooh do I have passions. And these passions invoke in me a wild animal persona that could chew your head off. Well, in my mind that is what I want to do. Outwardly that wild animal shows itself in the form of respectful conversation, careful questions, and information presented with a combination of research-based knowledge and heart. Lots of heart.
(Jeremy gets to hear it all unfiltered, and he definitely knows a side of me that doesn't get presented to the world.)
Catch me at the right moment, with the right side story, either positive or negative, about one of my passions, and I will engage with you for hours and likely still have more to say.
So back to the other day ...
I've made it no secret that our family bed shares. (I used to think I wanted to keep quiet about it, but, passions.) Harrison knows nothing different then sleeping every night in between Jeremy and me, and taking his naps in the middle of our mattress (or in the baby carrier.)
I am a new mom, but at this point not a brand new mom, and when I see newer families struggling with the adjustment of a newborn in their lives, I like to offer to them what works for us. Often those offerings are in the form of mentioning bed sharing. I don't like to tell people what to do, but I do like to share my viewpoint because far too often I only see very one-sided (i.e. mainstream) advice. Jeremy and I have found ourselves parenting in a way that is very different from mainstream, so I like to give my insights on the off-chance that they could be helpful for another family.
So in the case of online communities, I offer my insight and that's usually the end of it.
The other day after I replied to a Mom struggling with lack of sleep and asking for advice, of course I gave her encouragement and told her about our nighttime routine.
And there came a response directly after mine, a response from a pediatrician that said, in so many words, "Do not take that advice because it is dangerous, don't do it don't do it don't do it it's wrong and bad." The response also gave information about sleeping habits and gave a terribly unrealistic age (in terms of biological norms) that a baby should be sleeping through the night.
I read that and my heart fell, and then I felt an anger inside of me that I don't often feel. The wild animal was being unleashed, seriously. I don't care about someone offering a different opinion, but it really drives me crazy how mainstream parenting has become a set of rules, and if you deviate from them you are doing something wrong. After ruminating on it for a little while, I realized I couldn't stay quiet.
I respectfully responded with research-based information and throughout the day looked back to the thread and had a short, kind conversation that clearly had two very differing points of view, but we were able to each have our say. It was a pleasant enough conversation, and that was the end of the discussion.
But inwardly, I have not been able to shake it. That discussion has stayed with me for the past few days. Because I hate seeing parents being told what they can and can't do, I hate seeing alternative points of view passed off as reckless parenting, and I hate seeing babies posed as manipulating, trainable beings.
I often feel like modern parenting ideas have actually made parenting a baby more difficult than it already is. The general guidelines for mainstream parenting feel very frustrating and I believe they contribute to parents having all these questions about what babies "should" and "shouldn't" do, rather than reassuring that parenting with instinct is the best way.
Babies need to be close to their parents, they need to be fed, they need cuddles, and they need these things around the clock. I feel this is all instinctual if you take away the insecurities that can come up when you're trying to follow the "rules"- rules that are generally designed to try and make our babies less dependent on us. Our infant children are the most innocent and beautifully needy and dependent beings that we will ever know. They communicate and express their needs through their little (or loud) cries. It doesn't matter the time of day, or the circumstance, or the location. I have fully experienced the maternal instinct that is to tend to my baby when I hear him cry, as he is clearly expressing a need that I can and should meet- as his mother, as one of his parents, as a caregiver.
So why is there such a deeply ingrained idea in our society that the most vulnerable and needy among us should not be taken care of when it is inconvenient for the parent? Why are we told, time and time again, that our babies who can't even tell night from day are manipulating us to tend to them in the middle of the night and that their cries, their needs, should be ignored? I'm not trying to harp on any one type of parenting idea, but rather voice frustration that the common information given to inexperienced, malleable parents is information that has them parenting against their instincts. Who in their right mind- a mind free of fear, free of exhaustion, free of depression, free of other people's ideas stated as fact- would instinctually ignore a baby with a need?
---
So yes, one part of parenting instinctively in our household means bed sharing. This is the best set up we've found to meet Harrison's needs as they arise throughout the night. But here's a confession: on a few occasions, I have had a more difficult night's sleep, because the idea of bed sharing worried me on those particular nights. There is a common thread that links these nights- they happen after I've read an article, or blog post, or friendly discussion, or heated debate about the (un)safety of bed sharing. I second-guess my clear maternal instincts and the set up that has worked wonderfully for our family anytime I see someone mention something bad about it. I'm not even one to care about other people's opinions, but the switch can flip that quickly for me anyway. Something about that is so wrong- how can an anecdote that someone else mentions bring me to such a state of fear that I worry about the way that I am parenting my child? I'm thankful I'm always able to quickly find my bearings again and go back to fearless, instinctive parenting.
Everyone from trained professionals to our next-door neighbors to the strangers we pass on the streets needs to STOP offering fear-based parenting techniques. In fact, next-door neighbors and strangers can stop offering unsolicited advice altogether, and my heart will sing the day that the trained professionals we trust with our children offer balanced viewpoints, rather than a checklist of "do's" and "don'ts." As parents, we know our babies better than anyone else, and it is our duty to care for our children the best we can- instinctively and fearlessly.
Three of my stronger personality traits are being quiet, reserved, and avoiding conflict. An instigator I am not. Argumentative?- Nope. Do I enjoy a healthy debate? I'd rather observe.
But I have passions. Ooooh do I have passions. And these passions invoke in me a wild animal persona that could chew your head off. Well, in my mind that is what I want to do. Outwardly that wild animal shows itself in the form of respectful conversation, careful questions, and information presented with a combination of research-based knowledge and heart. Lots of heart.
(Jeremy gets to hear it all unfiltered, and he definitely knows a side of me that doesn't get presented to the world.)
Catch me at the right moment, with the right side story, either positive or negative, about one of my passions, and I will engage with you for hours and likely still have more to say.
So back to the other day ...
I've made it no secret that our family bed shares. (I used to think I wanted to keep quiet about it, but, passions.) Harrison knows nothing different then sleeping every night in between Jeremy and me, and taking his naps in the middle of our mattress (or in the baby carrier.)
I am a new mom, but at this point not a brand new mom, and when I see newer families struggling with the adjustment of a newborn in their lives, I like to offer to them what works for us. Often those offerings are in the form of mentioning bed sharing. I don't like to tell people what to do, but I do like to share my viewpoint because far too often I only see very one-sided (i.e. mainstream) advice. Jeremy and I have found ourselves parenting in a way that is very different from mainstream, so I like to give my insights on the off-chance that they could be helpful for another family.
So in the case of online communities, I offer my insight and that's usually the end of it.
The other day after I replied to a Mom struggling with lack of sleep and asking for advice, of course I gave her encouragement and told her about our nighttime routine.
And there came a response directly after mine, a response from a pediatrician that said, in so many words, "Do not take that advice because it is dangerous, don't do it don't do it don't do it it's wrong and bad." The response also gave information about sleeping habits and gave a terribly unrealistic age (in terms of biological norms) that a baby should be sleeping through the night.
I read that and my heart fell, and then I felt an anger inside of me that I don't often feel. The wild animal was being unleashed, seriously. I don't care about someone offering a different opinion, but it really drives me crazy how mainstream parenting has become a set of rules, and if you deviate from them you are doing something wrong. After ruminating on it for a little while, I realized I couldn't stay quiet.
I respectfully responded with research-based information and throughout the day looked back to the thread and had a short, kind conversation that clearly had two very differing points of view, but we were able to each have our say. It was a pleasant enough conversation, and that was the end of the discussion.
But inwardly, I have not been able to shake it. That discussion has stayed with me for the past few days. Because I hate seeing parents being told what they can and can't do, I hate seeing alternative points of view passed off as reckless parenting, and I hate seeing babies posed as manipulating, trainable beings.
I often feel like modern parenting ideas have actually made parenting a baby more difficult than it already is. The general guidelines for mainstream parenting feel very frustrating and I believe they contribute to parents having all these questions about what babies "should" and "shouldn't" do, rather than reassuring that parenting with instinct is the best way.
Babies need to be close to their parents, they need to be fed, they need cuddles, and they need these things around the clock. I feel this is all instinctual if you take away the insecurities that can come up when you're trying to follow the "rules"- rules that are generally designed to try and make our babies less dependent on us. Our infant children are the most innocent and beautifully needy and dependent beings that we will ever know. They communicate and express their needs through their little (or loud) cries. It doesn't matter the time of day, or the circumstance, or the location. I have fully experienced the maternal instinct that is to tend to my baby when I hear him cry, as he is clearly expressing a need that I can and should meet- as his mother, as one of his parents, as a caregiver.
So why is there such a deeply ingrained idea in our society that the most vulnerable and needy among us should not be taken care of when it is inconvenient for the parent? Why are we told, time and time again, that our babies who can't even tell night from day are manipulating us to tend to them in the middle of the night and that their cries, their needs, should be ignored? I'm not trying to harp on any one type of parenting idea, but rather voice frustration that the common information given to inexperienced, malleable parents is information that has them parenting against their instincts. Who in their right mind- a mind free of fear, free of exhaustion, free of depression, free of other people's ideas stated as fact- would instinctually ignore a baby with a need?
---
So yes, one part of parenting instinctively in our household means bed sharing. This is the best set up we've found to meet Harrison's needs as they arise throughout the night. But here's a confession: on a few occasions, I have had a more difficult night's sleep, because the idea of bed sharing worried me on those particular nights. There is a common thread that links these nights- they happen after I've read an article, or blog post, or friendly discussion, or heated debate about the (un)safety of bed sharing. I second-guess my clear maternal instincts and the set up that has worked wonderfully for our family anytime I see someone mention something bad about it. I'm not even one to care about other people's opinions, but the switch can flip that quickly for me anyway. Something about that is so wrong- how can an anecdote that someone else mentions bring me to such a state of fear that I worry about the way that I am parenting my child? I'm thankful I'm always able to quickly find my bearings again and go back to fearless, instinctive parenting.
Everyone from trained professionals to our next-door neighbors to the strangers we pass on the streets needs to STOP offering fear-based parenting techniques. In fact, next-door neighbors and strangers can stop offering unsolicited advice altogether, and my heart will sing the day that the trained professionals we trust with our children offer balanced viewpoints, rather than a checklist of "do's" and "don'ts." As parents, we know our babies better than anyone else, and it is our duty to care for our children the best we can- instinctively and fearlessly.
Saturday, February 18, 2017
Long Distance Family
Jer and Harrison and I went on a short trip to Tampa last weekend to celebrate the marriage of a good friend from college and his lovely wife. It was a great trip all around, and we got some video of Harrison eating sand on the Gulf of Mexico so that was pretty cool.
But my favorite part of the trip was a few days before the wedding, before the beach, before the reunion of friends, before the kitties at our AirBNB. We flew in late Wednesday night; after some airplane issues we arrived in Orlando at 3:15am. A friend who I hadn't seen in almost nine years, and her husband who I had never met, were absolute angels, Godsends, and picked us up from the airport at 4am and welcomed us into their home in Kissimmee, 45 minutes away. (Seriously-friends of the century award.)
We all went to bed around 5am, and thankfully the time zone difference worked in our favor so we stayed snuggled in bed until Harrison woke us up around 11:30.
And then at 12:45, with a knock on the front door, who was there to see us in the middle of Kissimmee, Florida, but my sister Kirstyn.
My sister who lives in West Palm Beach, who took the day off work and drove two and a half hours so that she could spend a short afternoon with us before we drove west to Tampa. Because that's how we do it in the Witzer family.
Those few hours- where we ended up driving to the Disney-made town of Celebration, sharing lunch and ice cream, and marveling at how big Harrison is getting- those were my best moments of our trip to Florida. The afternoon came and went so quickly, even after parting ways almost an hour later than planned, but it was so sweet, so special.
When you grow up close to your family and somehow manage to move to various far away places upon adulthood, you find ways to see each other no matter what. Timing? Location? Whatever- family takes trump.
Kirstyn previously came out to California and made her way to San Francisco, but not before she spent a few days with us- a month after we got married. My Mom and I took a trip to Latvia and as we were living on opposite coasts, had a mini-reunion in the JFK airport before continuing our travels together. My Northern Ireland residing sister Amanda and brother-in-law Chris and their then 4-month-old daughter planned a trip to see California, so we all planned a family reunion in Sequoia National Park during part of their trip. Kirstyn took a short trip to London while living in Spain, and Amanda hopped on a plane from NI to spend a few hours with her. I'm currently scheming up a way to get my family to visit Lexington while we're there this summer- because a 12 hour drive to Kentucky is cheaper/easier(?) then plane tickets for eight to Los Angeles.
My sisters and I do talk of wishing we could just walk down the street to say hi to each other, share meals, help care for our nieces/nephews, and simply live life together in the same proximity, but it's just not our current reality, and you can't spend your whole life wishing. When you don't have the luxury of living just down the way, you find reasons to go out of your way for each other. This is how our family works these days, and I love our little meet-ups. They are not always easy or convenient, but any time spent with family is always, always worth it.
But my favorite part of the trip was a few days before the wedding, before the beach, before the reunion of friends, before the kitties at our AirBNB. We flew in late Wednesday night; after some airplane issues we arrived in Orlando at 3:15am. A friend who I hadn't seen in almost nine years, and her husband who I had never met, were absolute angels, Godsends, and picked us up from the airport at 4am and welcomed us into their home in Kissimmee, 45 minutes away. (Seriously-friends of the century award.)
We all went to bed around 5am, and thankfully the time zone difference worked in our favor so we stayed snuggled in bed until Harrison woke us up around 11:30.
And then at 12:45, with a knock on the front door, who was there to see us in the middle of Kissimmee, Florida, but my sister Kirstyn.
My sister who lives in West Palm Beach, who took the day off work and drove two and a half hours so that she could spend a short afternoon with us before we drove west to Tampa. Because that's how we do it in the Witzer family.
Those few hours- where we ended up driving to the Disney-made town of Celebration, sharing lunch and ice cream, and marveling at how big Harrison is getting- those were my best moments of our trip to Florida. The afternoon came and went so quickly, even after parting ways almost an hour later than planned, but it was so sweet, so special.
When you grow up close to your family and somehow manage to move to various far away places upon adulthood, you find ways to see each other no matter what. Timing? Location? Whatever- family takes trump.
Kirstyn previously came out to California and made her way to San Francisco, but not before she spent a few days with us- a month after we got married. My Mom and I took a trip to Latvia and as we were living on opposite coasts, had a mini-reunion in the JFK airport before continuing our travels together. My Northern Ireland residing sister Amanda and brother-in-law Chris and their then 4-month-old daughter planned a trip to see California, so we all planned a family reunion in Sequoia National Park during part of their trip. Kirstyn took a short trip to London while living in Spain, and Amanda hopped on a plane from NI to spend a few hours with her. I'm currently scheming up a way to get my family to visit Lexington while we're there this summer- because a 12 hour drive to Kentucky is cheaper/easier(?) then plane tickets for eight to Los Angeles.
My sisters and I do talk of wishing we could just walk down the street to say hi to each other, share meals, help care for our nieces/nephews, and simply live life together in the same proximity, but it's just not our current reality, and you can't spend your whole life wishing. When you don't have the luxury of living just down the way, you find reasons to go out of your way for each other. This is how our family works these days, and I love our little meet-ups. They are not always easy or convenient, but any time spent with family is always, always worth it.
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