Last week, I sat on a golf cart and watched Craig coach football.  Much like when we met all those years ago, I sat with my legs stretched out in front of me, my hair pulled up in a ponytail.  Just like when he was coaching the all star game and I was working the event, I grinned as I heard him call out instructions, commands and encouragment.   

It was so much the same, the feeling so familiar, the smack of a ball being caught against chest pads and the crunch of lineman versus lineman.  I could have gotten lost in the memory of how he started to win my heart in 2002, except…

Next to me was a little girl in pigtails. 

“Go see MIE-EE MIE-EE HUSKIES?!” she asked the minute I walked in the door after work. 

I laughed and told her no, that we were not going to see the mighty, mighty huskies.  We had too much to do, baths needed to be taken, dinner needed to be fed and we could go another day.  And then, just as we were sitting down to eat, Cole with his rice cereal and Chessa and I with our plates of pork and potatoes, my phone rang. 

“Can Chessa come to practice?” Craig asked. 

I laughed and grinned at the toddler.  “Yes, but she needs to eat first.” 

Twenty mintues later we were sitting on the golf cart on the sideline watching practice while Chessa narrarated for me. 

DADDY COACH! PAP PAP COACH!

CHESSA COACH TOO. 

Craig stopped once in a while to come talk to us. Asking Chessa about her day, what she was going to do tomorrow.  And inevitably, while he was talking, he would see a missed tackle or a ball dance off the fingertips of a player who just didn’t quite get there fast enough and his attention would be diverted and he would yell. 

“Get to the ball!”

And then she would yell “GET DO DA BALL!!” 

Yes, babe.  Chessa coach too.

I hear her stirring in the morning.  With a peek at the video monitor, I see she’s awake.  I hear the shower still running, so I look down at Cole snuggled in my arms and say, “let’s go get your sister!” 

I lay him on the bed and walk to her room. 

The door screeches a bit as I turn the knob and I hear her jumping up, excited that someone is coming.  As I walk into the room, I see her grinning.  One paci in her mouth, another in her hand and Elmo tucked into her elbow. 

When she sees that it’s me coming in for her, she yells, “No! Daddy!” 

- – - -

It’s warm on a Saturday afternoon.  I’ve spent most of it indoors with Cole, so when Chessa wakes up, Craig offers to stay inside with the boy while I take Chessa outside to swim in the pool. 

I start getting her lathered with lotion and slip on her swimsuit. “Do you want to go swimming with Mommy?”

“NO!”

“What?!?” I tickle her toes.  “Mommy wants to take you swimming.”

“NONONO!  Mommy swim, no.  Daddy” 

- – - -

I walk in the door after a long day at work.  I kick off my heels and lean over to kiss Cole on the forehead.  Chessa is sitting on Craig’s lap and as I lean in for a kiss, she whines, “Mommy, no!” as she reaches out to scratch and claw at my face. 

 - – - -

In light of all that..

Dear Chessa at age 15. 

What’s that? Daddy won’t let you date?  

Sorry about your luck.   

Love,

Momma

A while back, maybe six or seven years ago, Craig and I were spending our usual Fourth of July week at the beach with his family.  It was mid-week and Craig was being a wee bit pesty. 

If he wasn’t picking on his mom, reminiscing about the day she dropped him off at college football camp or the family photos she made him take, he was giving me a hard time for being at the beach but sitting under an umbrella, my affection for country music or the fact that I’m a little bit challenged by my rights and lefts.  Nothing was off limits for his comments or teasing. 

All. Day. Long.

By late afternoon, he was tap dancing on my last nerve and I was contemplating whether I could ask him to go for ice cream and “forget” to bring him back to the condo. 

At just about that time, something caught our eye.  An older woman and her daughter were working their way across the hot sand towards the stairs that lead to the parking lot.  Even in sandals, with each step the scalding afternoon sand was burning their feet.  The daughter was trying to hold up her mother, while having her own feet burned.  After a few steps, it was too much.  The older woman fell and the daughter struggled to lift her. 

Before she could drop her umbrella and beach bags, Craig was on his feet running across the sand to help.  His feet were now being burned by the sand, but still, he took his time and gently lifted this stranger to her feet and led her to the parking lot. 

His mother and I looked at each other, both smiling after watching the scene unfold.  She was proud of the son she raised and I was sure that he was a guy worth dating.  With a laugh, I said “he can be such a shit all day long and then he goes and does something like that.” 

Now, all these years later, his daughter is the exact same way.

We spend days being challenged by her.  Trying to minimize the whining, sidestep the tantrums and most recently, enforce the “no hitting” rule. 

Then just when I think I’m at the end of my rope.  Just when I think bedtime can’t come soon enough.  Just when I start wondering if it’s appropriate to drink wine out of a pint glass, she asks to sit next to her brother as I read her a book.  I warn her that she has to be nice when she sits by him and hold my breath waiting for her to jump or roll into his tiny body. 

Then, moments later, I look away from the book and see my girl gently holding hands with her little brother.   

With a  warm heart and a chuckle, I think to myself, ‘you can be such a stinker all day long and then you go and do something like that.”

These days are full of snuggles with the wee babe.  Feeling his breath against my neck as I pat his back hoping to coax out a burp.

These days are spent cupping his head in my clasped hands and looking into his deep blue eyes.  He stares at me so intently and looks so serious that sometimes Ifeel the need to say a prayer that he will be a happy child.

These days are spent negotiating outside time with a high-energy toddler.

These days are spent with one child in my arms, another on my lap and a book of nursery rhymes that are memorized.

These days are spent doing more laundry than I ever thought possible. My days are a cycle of wash, dry, fold and repeat.

These days are spent watching the food network while feeding, changing and cuddling my children but still throwing something on the table from the freezer.

These days are spent in a state of combined overwhelming love for this new life we created and sheer exhaustion from a newborn who wakes up every two to three hours.

These days are spent feeling the weight of a newborn on my chest during our afternoon nap. I know that someday soon I will have to stop these co-naps, but not now.  Not yet.  For now I will soak in every second.

These days are spent wondering what she will be when she grows up.  She is headstrong and curious and active and funny.  She can be anything she wants.

These days are spent learning to fall asleep the second an opportunity presents itself and making two hours feel like six.

These days are spent watching Cole’s lips involuntarily curl into a smile and wondering what it is that brings such an expression to his face.

These days are spent watching Craig take over care of Chessa.  Seeing them deep in conversation while she sits on the tractor, watching him promise ice cream AFTER dinner and sitting on the bathroom counter while he handles her nightly bath.

These days are spent tapping out a blog post on my Blackberry at 4am because I don’t know when I will get to a laptop again and something about these middle of the night moments with my boy leave me feeling inspired.

These days are good.

It was a moment that I tried hard to commit to memory as it was happening.  I didn’t want to be in the room and be part of it or take away from the sweetness of it; but I needed to be there to see it, to feel it and to put it in that place where I could recall it later and some day tell Chessa about it. 

Before going into the hospital to have Cole, I worried about how things would go on at home without me.  Rarely did I miss Chessa’s bathtime or bedtime and while Craig was most often a part of it, we each had our roles.  He would undress her while I ran the water.  He’d put her in the bath and I’d bath and wash her hair while he got her humidifier ready.  He got her out of the bathtub. I dressed her. He brushed her teeth.  I dried her hair.  He carried her to the bedroom.  I read to her and put her to bed.  Dance steps we had nearly perfected. 

When he couldn’t be home at bath time and it was just Chessa and I, we followed a similar routine, just the two of us.  And I worried about how that dance would look when it was just the two of them. 

Yesterday, I saw how it looked.  I saw a father bath, diaper and dress his little girl while I sat to the side, wanting to be a part of the routine again, but cringing in pain with every other movement.  I saw a little girl giggle as her daddy pointed out her knees and elbows and when he told her to wash her arms, I laughed as she reached over and watched his.  I saw him place her in her jammies on the counter, hand her the toothbrush and gently dry her hair with my blow dryer.  I saw her grin at him and soak in the moments, not at all unnerved by the change in her bedtime routine. 

She was safe. She was comfortable. She was loved.

I sort of miss my girl.  I miss being able to pick her up and swing her around.  I miss being able to roll around on the floor with her, tickling her while she giggles and squeals.  She doesn’t seem to have noticed that I’m not quite as active with her as I used to be.  She’s not jealous that it’s her little brother in my arms.  And she’s willing to cuddle for a moment or two in the mornings or read a book in the afternoons.  But mostly, she’s happy to have her daddy around and soak up having his undivided attention.

“KA-DUL” she says when we get her out of her crib in the morning.  “Yes, peanut, we can go cuddle in Mommy’s bed for a little bit.” 

“NA-NEE!” she exclaims when I ask her where she’s going to go today.  “Yep, you’re going to Nauni’s house.  Who are you going to see there?” 

“BAAA” she says when she sees the stuffed sheep that someone got her as a baby gift. 

“ELMO” she says when I pull out the Pampers.  “Yes, it’s Elmo.”  “BUTT” she says.  “Yes, the Elmo diaper goes on your butt.” 

“GU-GA” she says when I praise her for sitting still, or wearing a big or coming back when I called for her.  “Yes, C is a good girl.” 

“APPA- JU” she asks as she walks to the fridge.  “You want some apple juice, honey?  Are you thirsty?” 

“NOOO!” she says way too much. 

“MON-EEEE” she cries when she sees a glimpse of the ice cream in the freezer. 

“HAN-NEE” she says when her daddy comes home and lathers up with the hand sanitizer.  She’ll have some too, please. 

“BAY-BEE” she answers and points to my belly when I ask if she wants a brother or a sister. 

“BUBB-OOLSH” she says as she peers over the side of the bathtub making sure that I didn’t forget to add the bubbles. 

“PASH-EE” she asks as soon as we step foot into her bedroom.  I want my paci now, please. 

“HAP-HEE” she she whispers as she curls up with her daddy and the big teddy bear, sharing goldfish before bedtime.  Yes, my love.  We are happy.

C is playing between us in the living room.  After a few minutes, she starts pointing to the door that goes downstairs and in her toddler speak says “down”.  Although it sounds a little more like ”na na”  Over her head, Craig and I exchange a glance and a grin. 

He went last time.  And the three times before that.  So I stand up.  “C’mon, punkin.  Mommy will take you downstairs.” 

“No.No” she says quickly and shakes her head. 

“C, I thought you wanted to go downstairs.” I said as I walk closer to her. 

She puts her little hands on my thighs and pushes me backwards.  “No.No.” she says again.  “Daddeee.” 

I chuckle. “Daddy just took you downstairs, how about Mommy takes you this time?” I ask her as I try to pick her up.

“No.No” she says again, only a little more insistently and with tears in her voice and her eyes locked on Craig.  She points to the door and waves that she wants to go downstairs.  But, clearly, only with her daddy.   

“OK.  Daddy will take you.”

——–

We’ve finished eating dinner.  Well, we haven’t, but the toddler has.  The give away is when she starts dumping the food off of her plate and putting the plate on her head.  I ask her if she’s finished. 

“Are you all done?” I ask.  “Done?”

She squirms in her high chair and pushes against the tray.  “Do you want down?”

She babbles, again in her toddler talk, telling me she has had enough. 

“OK, well, let’s get down,” I say. 

“No.No.” she says. All the while squirming and pulling on the edges of her tray.  “Daddeee, daddeee, daddeeeeeeee.” 

“Honey, Daddy’s right there.  Do you want to get down?

“No.No. Daaadeeee.” 

Craig stands and walks over to us.  C giggles and kicks her feet in excitement. 

“Daddy will get you down,” he says.  He kisses her and unlocks the tray, she reaches for him while he releases the belt and wraps her arms tightly around his neck. 

“Daddeee!”  And once again, all is right with the world. 

Apparently I wasn’t the only one who missed having Craig around in the evenings during football season.

I’ve mentioned my feelings on winter before, correct?  We’ve discussed my disdain for the cold temperatures, my rage when snow, ice or freezing rain keep me house (or town) bound for days on end.  And I’ve mentioned that in this town winters are down right brutal and seem never ending. 

So, really. We don’t need to talk about that again.  Although, I should throw out there that buttoning one’s coat is one of those small things I used to take for granted.  At this point none of my coats will button over my growing-by-the-day belly and only one will close over my boobs.  So, yeah.

However, C doesn’t care that the temperature is borderline frigid and the ground is covered in snow.  She wants to go. And if telling us “Go. Go.” doesn’t do the trick, then she goes to get her shoes.  And her hat.  And her coat. Then she gets her Daddy’s coat. 

Usually we head her off, distract her with something inside the house so we can stay warm.. But on Sunday, we caved and took her outside.  Craig wanted to shovel and I wanted to.. well, I wanted to stay inside, but instead I threw on one of Craig’s fleece jackets that would fit over the belly and grabbed the camera. 

 When Craig and I started dating, I used the 15-16 weeks of high school football season as “Krista time”.  He was tied up with practice and film and scouting and prepping for the next game so I made dinner dates with girlfriends, shopped a lot and took spiked drinks to the games.  (Yeah, he coaches high school.  So what?  It gets cold here in early October.  I needed liquid warmth.)  This year? I’m just trying to survive the season, keep the little one alive and show up to the games on time with her on my hip, sporting her Huskies sweatshirt. 

Friday was a rare afternoon game and the first game of the season that I remembered to grab my camera on my way out the door.  Truth be told, I have been missing those falls of our early years.  Something about the games, the excitement, the crowds has just changed over the last few seasons.  Maybe it was having a few not so good seasons (sorry, Craig), maybe it was that my football travelling buddy took a new job and doesn’t make it to the games as often to keep me company or maybe it’s because I’ve been going sober.  Who knows. 

But, on Friday, as I watched my little girl dance to the band, clap with the cheerleaders and squeal at her father on the sidelines, it hit me that life is cyclical.  Things change.  Life moves on.  And mine brought me around to this. 

And I wouldn’t trade it for all the coffee cups hiding rum and cokes in the world.

 Our vacation, in a nutshell, in pictures….

From top left, clockwise: 

1.  
   1. Craig & C. rocking the Baby Bjorn.
   2. What do you do when you forget to pack a bib?  Tie a napkin ’round her neck, of course.  Oh, and Blue Moon.  YUM. 
   3. He’s got a stroller loaded down with luggage, a duffel bag on his shoulder and a baby in his arms.  If nothing else makes him feel like a dad, this sure will. 
   4. When a dark, quiet hotel room is simply unacceptable for napping, try a stroller, on a hot day, in a shopping plaza, in the middle of the city. 

1.  
   1. Dear Child, Someday, when you don’t have wrinkles to go the prom, you will be glad that we made you wear that hat. 
   2. Family photo  (Who does she look like?  I can’t tell.)
   3. My loves.  My life. 
   4. Dipping her toes in the ocean.  She LOVED the water and the sand.  Every time we took her outside she got all excited, kicking her feet and squealing with delight.  She waved at anyone who glanced her way and generaly charmed everyone at the Outer Banks.