because people live here. really. they do.

It is summertime in Florida.

If you're not from Florida, please promptly disregard any subliminal message your mind is playing for you that includes sunshine, blue skies and a day spent sunning yourself on the white sand of a pristine beach. Not happening. It's hot, for one. The kind of hot that leaves your clothing stuck to your body from sweat, the kind that makes you question if you're crying, bleeding or just sweating down your face even on a short walk to your mailbox. It's the kind of hot that leads you to believe even your internal organs are being sunburned and your flesh may melt clear off. And it rains all of the time. But not just a nice, cooling drizzle, because that wouldn't be Florida summertime weather. Instead it downpours every single afternoon, complete with lightning and thunder that rattles your windows. Even the rain is hot and you swear you can hear it sizzling on the sidewalks. It's pretty miserable weather that leaves us stranded in our house every afternoon going a little stir-crazy because we -- as in Ethan and I -- do better on the go. Which is maybe why we sat in the car waiting out a half hour downpour so we could go to Wal-Mart this afternoon.

I've been making mental to-do lists of all of the things that I want to accomplish but can't find the motivation, beginning with repainting our kitchen cabinets. Almost a year ago we went through our great house disaster which, on the plus side, got us freshly painted new walls. My intent was to repaint our cabinets because after six years in our house, I realized I was super tired of the original owner's coral pink cabinets. Then I got pregnant with Wylie and promptly forgot about our hideous kitchen. Now I can't stop remembering about how crazy it makes me. With dreams of our sweet new kitchen cabinets dancing in my head, I realize I'm bit by the home renovation bug. Which is likely one big delayed reaction since it's nearly been a year since our walls were repainted and not a single thing has actually been hung up on the walls since. We're basically existing in a blank space. After a year. (I mean, excluding tot school and Ethan's room because, go figure, those are the only two completed rooms in our house.)

Here's what we don't have:
- Space.
-Money.
- DIY skills.

Where's what we do have:
- My stubbornness.
- A Pinterest account.

That said, I'm a little bit excited about doing some major DIY overhaul around these here parts and getting our house to look like, well, like people live here. Since I'm in a little bit of a writer's rut these past few days, I thought I would instead share my Pinterest inspiration for Operation: Stop Neglecting Your Living Quarters.

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I am all about the black cabinets. Our kitchen is a light shade of gray with black appliances. Our kitchen cabinets are some coral-colored pieces of fake wood and I would love to paint them black. (Ten bonus points if you're singing The Rolling Stones right now.)

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We have a big, empty wall in our living room (which is a little bit darker gray than our kitchen). It's basically the first thing you see when you walk in our front door. I would love to do a black and white photo wall there!

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I really love the idea of a chalkboard hanging in our kitchen on our big, empty wall. It could be a cute place to write little family notes or appointment reminders as Ethan gets older. I basically turn everything into a chalkboard now as it is, so why not have one hanging in the kitchen?!

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I am a little bit obsessed with pallet art and would love to make one to hang in our living room above our couch along with some sort of mismatched photo collage, like so:

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I still haven't found anything that moves me for our super long hallway wall that the bedrooms are down. I was thinking something to display children's artwork but nothing really popped out at me just yet. I'm open to suggestions from anyone who has better taste in things than I do (which is, you know, the bulk of the world's population). Also, feel free to send any tips and suggestions our way, because we'll need them.

We'll need them desperately.

tot school - letters n, o, p - age three

This past week in tot school was nice. After taking so much time off during our loss, it felt nice to sort of ease back into a sweet tot school routine. It actually felt a little normal, which was nice. We picked up where we left off before everything happened with a recap of the letters N, O and P. This is our second run-through of the alphabet. After having completed an individual letter each week, we started running through them three letters a time as a final recap.

I'm noticing the older that Ethan gets, the less content he is to constantly do our activities over and over again. Midway through the week, he starts to look for new tot trays and lets me know he's sort of bored with the ones we began at the beginning of the week. I made a mental note to add more variety or maybe a second group of trays in our upcoming weeks, so we'll see how that goes. Regardless, this was a nice week of tot school.

NEST NUMBERS

There were five nests, each numbered, and different eggs. Ethan got to identify each number and then count out the corresponding number of eggs. I think by now the challenge involved in recognizing the numbers up to five and counting out five objects is a little easy, so he sort of lost interest in this one really quickly once the thrill of new trays wore off. I know he can also recognize and count out all of the numbers through 10, so I may breeze through those before moving onto the teens in the upcoming weeks.

NUMBER LINE UP

Ethan got to put these number cards in order from 1-10. He enjoyed this activity a lot and loved practicing counting backwards down to 1 as well.

N, O, P TRACING

This was the only tray that totally bombed this week! Ethan wanted nothing to do with this one. I think after repeating it so often week after week, the thrill of the tracing of letters also wore off pretty quickly.

OCTOPUS MAGNET TRAY

Ethan really loved this tray this week! There was an octopus attached to our magnet board and a little cup with varying images. The words that began with O had a tiny piece of magnet on the back so that they would stick to the octopus' legs. The ones that didn't begin with O didn't have a magnet and so they didn't stick. Ethan had fun sounding out each word and trying to figure out if they began with O and then seeing if he was right by seeing if they stuck!

ORANGE JUICE MAKING

This was a fun one that we actually did back in color orange week when Ethan was 18 months old! As Ethan got older, this activity got a little different. When he was a baby, I pre-cut the oranges which he then squished in a bag with his palms before sipping the juice. This time, I gave Ethan a cutting board plus his little knife from the Montessori supply store. He was able to practice his cutting with a knife by slicing the orange. I included a little funnel for him to stick inside the bag to make it a little easier to squeeze the oranges into. He needed a little help holding the bag with the funnel but other than that, he was able to do this whole activity by himself and he really loved it! I loved seeing how proud he was to make fresh orange juice (which he happily shared with his daddy before he went to work).

PIRATE SHIP TRACING

For this one, Ethan got to trace along the dotted lines to create a pirate ship. He really enjoyed this one -- if you can't tell by his PJ's in these photos, he's sort of into pirates (and pirate ships) right now.

PENGUIN THREE PART CARDS

This was our first go at three part cards. I thought penguins would be a fun place to start since Ethan loves anything with animals. He was initially excited about this new activity but a little overwhelmed and didn't want to do it more than once. Still, I'm excited to use more three part cards in the future as I'm sure he'll warm up to them.

LINKING UP WITH:

"time for your check-up!" "stop singing that, mommy. you're not doc mcstuffins. you're mommy."

This past week has been our Doctor Week. Every day, another appointment. Mine have been of the post-loss variety and have been typically stressing me out. I've been looking forward to Ethan's visits, a nice break from the stress and sadness. Time to reflect on how healthy he is and how much he's thriving. Ethan was pretty stoked for his check-ups -- physical from his pediatrician and his first dental cleaning -- until we were in the car on the way to them. That's when his tune changed and he'd peep a little "I'm a little nervous, mommy" from the backseat that eventually morphed into full-throttle screaming. Age three has already turned my mild-mannered, quiet, sweet-as-sugar little darling into a screaming, yelling, shrieking toddler tornado. Age two was a testament to his sweetness but three? Oh boy, I think I go to sleep with my ears ringing from the screaming. Typically pulling him onto my lap and rocking him while breaking out in song can calm him down but, really, there's only so much of that I can do while driving a car.

Ethan's three year check up had been the first time we'd seen his pediatrician since we lost Wylie. Our pediatric office has three doctors and all are absolutely wonderful, so we're never picky with who we see on a sick visit when we don't really get the flexibility to stick with our main doctor. I like our well-visits because it's a time for us to catch up with our amazing pediatrician. Ethan was excited about this, too, all morning, even drawing a picture of his doctor listening to his heart with a stethoscope. Once we stood in front of the office doors, it all sort of morphed into a screaming fit before I could even do damage control. My sweet friend Nicole (who runs The Striped Fig clothing for kids -- check it out!) was Ethan's nurse for the day and, boy, did he make it clear he wanted nothing to do with his check-up. Actually, the last couple of times Nicole has been our nurse, Ethan has turned himself into a red-faced, hoarse-from-screaming tantrum-thrower. Sorry, Nicole. Despite rolling on the floor, pretending he can't stand upright and screaming as we tried to weigh and measure him, Ethan eventually calmed down once his doctor entered the room and engaged him in conversation about trains. Actually, she had asked him if he was reading a book about Thomas and he matter-of-factly corrected her that it was not about a Thomas train, but a different one (it was The Little Engine That Could). That's the other thing about age three: the know-it-all condescension. Which, I'm not going to lie, I totally love. Ethan has overnight turned into some mildly cranky old man and I think I will be sad when this phase ends. (The "MOMMMM-MAAAAAAY" screams, however, not so much.)

Ethan checked out beautifully on his physical and without me having to ask, our wonderful pediatrician ensured me that his heart was fantastic and flawless. It was something I worried about, even going as far as to wonder if his drawing of the pediatrician listening to his heart was some kind of eerie premonition. Being a super neurotic person by nature is even worse once you experience a loss like ours. I now worry about everything about fifty times more intensely than I did before, when I already worried about everything to begin with. I resorted to bribery to get Ethan to simmer down at his check-up (I know, for shame) and told him he could pick any fun activity he'd like if he would just let the doctor examine him. He ended up picking Chuck E. Cheese. Cringe.

The day prior to his check-up, my sister had convinced me to take the two of them to Chuck E. Cheese and despite dousing them in OnGuard, I couldn't stop picturing all of the germs festering on them with each game they touched or breath they breathed. Still, Ethan had an absolute blast playing games and seeing "Chuck E. Cheese the mouse, mommy. He's a mouse." After his check-up, we made our way back to Chuck E. Cheese where Ethan spent $5 on tokens that earned him enough tickets to pick out his very own plastic spider ring. We gave a hug to Chuck E. Cheese himself, had a mini-pizza and retreated back home where he could rave about how much fun Chuck E. Cheese is endlessly until bedtime.

We closed out Doctor Week with Ethan's first dental cleaning. I was spoiled growing up, always having the perfect teeth. The ones that never had cavities, were spaced just perfectly, never needed braces or much at all. Of course, once most of my adult teeth came in I flipped off a hammock and knocked pieces of them all out, and my mom's depressing retelling of that story has probably added to my neurosis about Ethan's teeth. That, and the fact that my husband needed a whole lot of dental work for his big teeth in his crowded, tiny mouth. I'm no dentist, but it was pretty easy for me to tell that Ethan inherited his big teeth and tiny, crowded mouth. Of course, the actual dentist confirmed that braces would one day be in Ethan's future, but also that I was doing a great job with his brushing and flossing and his teeth looked great. It was validation of sorts because I knew I was solely responsible for the care of Ethan's teeth and would probably beat myself up for months if the dentist had anything constructive to say.

Still, we left the dentist with Ethan's goodie bag of a new toothbrush, toothpaste sample and a sticker of a Golden Retriever.

Then he conned me into a trip to the science museum.

It's as if his check-ups seal the deal that he is officially three. And something about age three seems so big. I'm sure I said that about age one and age two as well. I'm sure I'll be saying it every year until he's eighteen. Heck, I'll probably be saying it way past then. Ethan has always been my little buddy, my partner to spend the days with, but lately he's an actual tiny companion. He never stops talking, wondering, asking, imagining. It's like he's become an actual little person, one who cares for me as much as I care for him. "Make sure you take a breather, mommy," he reminds me before I set out for my exercise class without even raising his eyes from his breakfast.

Three so far sort of seems like the crossover from toddlerhood to childhood.

frogglez comfortable swim goggles, review and giveaway!

I am so unbelievably excited to post about Frogglez today!

Ethan is a swimmer. He has swim class twice a week and, weather permitting, spends double that in the water swimming his little heart out. By the time the tail end of Ethan's swim lessons would roll around, his eyes would be red and burning from the chlorine. He would then spend the last minutes of class sitting on the step crying both about the discomfort in his eyes and the fact he was missing out on usually his favorite part of swim lessons: diving to the bottom for the rings. Once Ethan learned how to swim and graduated from his lessons to his big kid swim classes, he was able to use goggles! Prior to this, we had run through every remedy, homeopathic or traditional, to help his achy eyes heal from the chlorine but nothing really worked. We were relieved and nervous when the time came for Ethan to be allowed to use goggles in the water. Relieved, because now he wouldn't have to quit when he was in the middle of having fun in the water. Nervous, because Ethan isn't one of those kids who tolerates accessories. Hats, sunglasses, forget it -- he doesn't even like to wear socks. We weren't sure how he would do with goggles strapped on his face. After all, traditional swim goggles are hardly comfortable. They're sort of like suction cups over your eyes with a thick plastic band that squashes your ears, gets tangled in your hair and pushes against the back of your head. When we learned about Frogglez, I was definitely curious as to how well they worked given their stark difference to traditional goggles, but I was excited to give them a try!

When we put the Frogglez on Ethan for the first time, they went on effortlessly much like pulling a hat onto your head. There was no pulling or tugging or adjusting that needed to be done. In fact, they're so easy to put on that Ethan can happily put them on himself without help.

The back of the Frogglez are made up not of plastic, but of stretchy, comfortable, soft straps. They went right on Ethan's head without getting tangled in his hair or pushing down his ears. The straps actually go nowhere near his ears, which was a huge plus! Halfway during our time in the pool, it began to rain. When it cleared up and Ethan got back in the pool, he was able to pull the Frogglez back on himself over wet hair without any issue. Even when his hair was wet, the soft Frogglez straps just went on similarly to putting on a baseball cap. No stress, no fight, no tugging. I also liked how the goggles themselves didn't leak. After a couple of hours of swimming, no water got into them. Even so, they didn't have to suction to his eyes or cause any discomfort to work. Ethan loved having his goggles on which surprised both my husband and I, given how much he usually can't stand having anything on or near his face.

The straps are made of stretchy neoprene which is able to mold to the child's head. You know how once you wear in your favorite pair of shoes they're super comfortable and feel like they were made just for you? That's how the Frogglez fit, as if they were custom tailored to fit your child's head and face. Because they can stretch accordingly, one size Frogglez goggles fit most kids under 9! No constant adjustments necessary.

Something I liked, as a parent, is the way the stretchy straps are quick drying. They don't stay soaked and heavy like a t-shirt, which makes them super easy to put back on when wet. Ethan not only thought his goggles were super cool, but he swam as if he had been wearing them for years. It was almost like they were so comfortable, he didn't even realize he had them on.

Another cool-from-a-parent-perspective thing about the Frogglez goggles are that they float! This is exceptionally great for beach or deep end pool usage when you don't exactly want to be diving to retrieve a pair of goggles from the bottom of the pool.

Also, I feel that I should point out that they stay put even during the fiercest toddler conglomerate of a belly flop and cannonball.

Frogglez goggles have completely made their way to our absolute must-haves list for any little swimmer! Ethan's pair are our swim bag staple and we can't leave home without them. Frogglez are an absolutely genius way to protect little eyes from the water while ensuring a comfortable fit that kids won't even mind wearing. Swim goggles just got way more practical, effective, comfortable -- and cooler. Ethan is proud to show off his sweet pair of Frogglez!

Frogglez come in a variety of colors (there's something for everyone!) and can be purchased on their website!

Because Frogglez can't let their awesomeness stop at completely revolutionizing swim goggles, they're also giving away THREE pairs of Frogglez goggles here on You Are The Roots! Three lucky winners will have the chance to try out their very own pair of Frogglez goggles (spoiler alert: you're going to love them!).

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Ethan received these Frogglez goggles to facilitate a product review. No compensation was provided and all opinions expressed are completely our own.

i could walk, but i will crawl there

Sometimes things happen and you see things differently than you did before. Sometimes all it takes is one event to be able to look back at things that happened in the past with a whole different set of eyes. An entirely new perspective on a life that is old, gone, past. I do this unintentionally these days, not realizing the way I'm glossing over something old with a new set of feelings.

When I was a teenager, I was sad all of the time. Imagine some kind of teenage tornado of depression, anxiety and a whole lot of hormones and melodrama. Recipe for teenage disaster, right? But sometimes I look back at pictures or read journals that I had scribbled in on many hopeless nights and I think you have no idea what sadness is.

I was sixteen years old in this picture. Twelve years after it was taken, I would be saying goodbye to a child. I would be wrapping her up in the blanket her grandmother crocheted for her and kissing her goodbye forever, sitting there while a funeral home took her away. Twelve years from the time of this photograph, I would be listening to doctor after doctor explain in detail how and why my little girl was terminally ill while watching her bounce around on ultrasound, chomping down the sugary breakfast cereal I'd downed for breakfast that morning. I know pain now, and I know sadness. Back then I only thought I did. Back then I would lay in bed for days when the boy I liked kissed someone else at a party and I wasn't supposed to find out about it but, of course, I did. Back then I would scribble depressing song lyrics on my notebooks as a cry for help because I was so riddled with agony that I didn't know how else to empty my heart. It's funny, in a way. How one event can sort of rewrite the way you remember everything that happened prior to that. Once upon a time, I was a teenager who was sad all of the time. Now, I was a teenager who had no idea what sad was. Dare I even say, blissfully naive.

Or there's this picture of my husband when he came to pick me up for our first date. He was 16 and had just gotten his license. My mom never let me drive with anyone, not even other people's parents, but she knew something about him was different and she let me go. I always looked back at this picture and smiled because young love is a crazy, powerful thing and I can still feel the way it swirled me around and swallowed my whole world. Now I stare at this picture and I say to the little boy in it, twelve years from now you will have a daughter and she won't make it, and she will look just like you. She will have your hair and your lips but she will be so tiny and she won't make it and we'll only have one set of pictures to look at when we are wanting so very badly to see her. One day it will take everything in my body to not look at this photo and feel sadness because now I know the pain that this teenage boy will feel. Twelve years in the future and he will have to write "father" on the form from the funeral home that asks his relationship to the deceased.

And those crazy kids up there, in love and blind to the world around them. If only they knew the loss they'd have to one day go through together. One day their worst nightmare would no longer be him in college while she finished her senior year of high school at home, only-on-the-weekends visits and exams and tests and attendance limits. One day their worlds would be rocked but, you know, they'd still be in it together. And maybe that's part of the silver lining to it all: they always had each other to lean on.

Oh, emotional teenager,

You will be a mother one day. You will have two babies but only one will be here for you to watch grow up. You will somehow be, at the very least, physically present each day for your son and even that will be hard. Getting out of bed and opening your own eyes will be hard. You will learn that you make everyone feel uncomfortable: your neighbor will sputter fifteen random variations of "so, it's rained a lot, huh?" before muttering some awkward condolences. People will be scared to tell you that they're pregnant as if somehow their baby has anything to do with yours or you would somehow want this to happen to anyone else. You'll learn you have to sort of take charge and lead your own life so you can still exist in society and be seen in public. It won't be easy for you. None of it will be easy for you. Those song lyrics you used to jot over every inch of your Converses now make sense and you'll wish you were again in a time when you only hoped they would. You will know sadness. You will know pain. You will know how long eternity really is when you kiss your daughters little lips goodbye and hand her off to be taken away forever. Somehow you will survive. Somehow you will laugh and smile and hear a song that moves you and appreciate something beautiful in the outside world even when it feels next to impossible. Once upon a time people will call you strong and say they admire your strength and you will feel baffled because you feel like every step and breath requires effort that you're not entirely sure you have. One day you will realize that a kiss and hug from your son is the best medicine, that his laughter gives you another breath of life when your sails are deflating. You will feel lucky, and then unlucky, and then still the luckiest person that you can think of. And nothing will make sense, but everything will make sense at the same time. You think you are sad now but one day, one day you will realize what sadness is. And that makes me sad for you.

But, you know, one day you will know how to hold your head high and keep going because you'll realize that there sometimes isn't a choice. Your mom can't pick up the phone and excuse you from a few days of real life. After all, you're the mom now.

As a teenager, how your mother would pick up your notebooks, your shoes, glare at them and sigh before informing you that these were the best years of your life. They weren't. Even now, they weren't, let's be real. But the funny thing about it all is that the best years of your life will simultaneously be your worst: you'll be living your dream watching your son grow up while falling asleep to the same nightmare of your daughter not being here. But your son will keep you going. He will be your sun, your moon, your stars, your oxygen, your reason for being able to feel anything at all. And how much you will feel. How much energy he will give you, how much laughter, how much frustration; how every bit of it makes you feel lucky.

And underneath the pile of sympathy cards and the baby book that you'll never be able to finish filling out, you will feel lucky to have had her, too, even if you have to spend your life feeling sad that she couldn't stay.