Letters from M

Motherhood is a Journey

2012-01-27T12:14:00.000-08:00

Today the girls and I visited the Children's Museum. We do that a lot during the winter months and it's always fun for the kids and a nice little break for me. As we were wrapping up from lunch I watched all of the others mothers and few fathers doing the same. Suddenly it hit me; how white we all were, how ordinary in our Keens and Patagonia jackets. I looked around as other parents pulled the same organic blueberries from their satchels and Nalgene bottles filled with ice, never juice. A mother close by cooed to her baby the same way I coo to Gwen, asking her to say elephant, slow like that, "el-e-phant." I don't know what I'm saying exactly, except that there I was, just another organic produce toting, middle of the afternoon museum cooing, white mother.

I like my peers, truly I do. I love to affiliate with other women in my situation. We buy fair trade coffee at the kid friendly joint and we talk about Montessori education and simplicity parenting. We laugh about toilet training. These women are educated, funny, and kind. I enjoy these friendships immensely. This is who I am, in many ways, and yet I find myself craving some diversity; friendships with a little grit, the opportunity to meet and know mothers who are different from myself.

It seems like such an immeasurable privelege to be a white, stay at home mother living in Portland. It almost seems indulgent. Wouldn't it be a profound gift to have the opportunity to meet mothers of every age and race, culture and religion and compile their stories, form friendships and solidarity and to dig out the common threads? Yes, indeed.

Girls in Winter

2012-01-26T12:43:00.000-08:00

Yesterday when we were out walking I realized that Gwenyth is really no longer a baby. She's so independent and funny. She hates to ride in the stroller anymore and desperately wants to run after her sister. She wants to wear dresses too and be allowed to eat her banana by herself.

The girls are getting easier all at once. I've noticed Abi coming into this sort of self awareness. She has more patience than expected. Her speech is more mature and I often hear her start a sentence with, "I suppose..." Gwenyth is sleeping like a bear cub in winter. She loves milk, she loves food, she can finally chase the squirrels and every so often to asks to sit on the toilet.

The new house feels insane. There are so many things we love that I can't even begin listing but overall the small outdated kitchen more than makes up for itself in long willowy dogwood branches, basement storage, funky window architecture and the ever peaceful presence of palm trees.

To be fair, it has been raining so much. It's been soggy and grey and every. single. year. I think that we'll probably die or go crazy before spring arrives but somehow we pull through. Something doesn't seem right about it though....I feel so bad for the little girls who just want to run in the grass. Also, our basement flooded. It was harmless in the end, but rather inconvenient. Oh, and Blake found out he's lactose intolerant which means no cheese. Is there life after cheese? I doubt it.

2012

2012-01-06T12:52:00.000-08:00

*I had Gwennie in some darling, sparkly mary janes but she cried and cried until I put on her Chuck's.

2012- It's time I started taking better care of myself

1. Lots of vitamins. More red meat and eggs.
2. Yoga class on Monday. Every monday.
3. Throw some pottery at least once a week.
4. Clean a little bit less, hang out with the kids a little bit more.
5. Red wine + Blake + No TV.
6. Hire a babysitter at the very least once every two months. Once a month preferably.
7. Live more gracefully. Approach all of my friendships with grace and remind them of the gifts they are.

Goodnight

2011-12-14T13:19:00.000-08:00

All of a sudden it's December again, just like always but this year we've had almost no rain. The skies have been dry and it feels like Montana. Any time the wind drops below freezing I feel like a girl again pulling on boots over woolen socks. Today I had to scrape the windows ever so slightly and I remembered shucking ice off of the windshield every morning before grad school. Sometimes my dad would drive by my house on his way to work and do it for me.

It's December and I'm nostalgic again. I'm making cookies with the girls and giant paper stars for the windows. I want to cry because I can't figure out how to balance being a good mother with a good housekeeper and good wife and somehow be amazingly social and have hobbies too- ones I'm skilled at. Then I get over it for a second, remembering the stories my grandmother tells about mothering, or the assurances my husband gives me about hobbying. There will be hobbying again soon in my future. I'm at that happy edge.

The girls are these big, bright lights. They are so strong and interesting. Abigail breaks my heart when she tells me daddy is her favorite. She misses him and I understand, but still. Gwenyth snuggles me up. I wonder how to keep cool and mellow. I want Abi to know it's okay if daddy is her favorite sometimes. I can be okay with runner up.

I want to scream into the heavens with joy because we sold our house and that's something of a miracle. I want to tuck myself in with a song. I am strong and bright and interesting too. Children are such funny creatures. Never have I loved so deeply. Never have I learned so much.

Caged Bird Singing

2011-11-22T12:29:00.000-08:00

Today it's been pouring rain all day. The girls and I are all content to just stay and in eat warm bread with honey. These next few quiet days are the last we'll spend in this house. We have a buyer for the condo and with a little luck and prayer the sale will go through. After all this time rooted it feel amazing to be moving somewhere (anywhere) else. It's a rental. Though we're not unhappy with that fact. There will be so much freedom, time to save, things we'll no longer have to worry about. The house is still smallish, but cute. The yard is so big and green. There is a garden plot, an ample deck, room to run and somersault. The two palm trees in the front yard make me swoon because once again I will be able to lie underneath fronds in the breeze. There is no sweeter sound. Blake is so excited to have a real garage he can mess around in, and the unfinished basement is just finished enough for me to spread out an assortment of projects. We now have a pottery wheel too which makes the basement officially a dream come true of mine. I'm lousy at throwing but I'm looking forward to escaping on Saturday afternoons for a bit of coffee and clay.

Blake and I feel so hopeful and alive. There are fragile feelings there too. A sadness to leave the only home our children have known. So much regret that we couldn't make this happen before parting with Maggie, our lab.

But still.

Christmas is coming. This year Abi believes more than ever. Mom and dad will be here for a long visit. I'm so enjoying this phase of our lives. I am so thankful for every single day. They are rushing by me so quickly and somehow I'm 31 already, when I feel like I was just 24, and I wonder how I'll ever be able to hold on to every beautiful moment?

The Rainy Years Ahead

2011-11-07T12:24:00.000-08:00

It was so cold and we were killing time before bed. We bundled the babies in their winter coats, each face lined in faux fur, and secured the rain fly loosely. It never fit quite right. It was so dark and the rain was so sudden. You pushed the stroller into the night and your feet were nearly bare, flip flopped. Mine were snug in yellow boots, a Christmas gift from you the year I was pregnant with Abi. We started running in the rain, the children screeching with glee and suddenly I was 23 again, dancing with you in the dark, warm, rain of a Pacific summer. You said my wet eyelashes were beautiful, I can remember your words, and as we ran wildly through the Safeway parking lot, pushing a double stroller, you, three weeks overdue for a haircut, looked back at me and something sparked in my chest. A cycle had completed. Where would I love you next in the rain?

Let's pretend I don't suck

2011-11-01T20:19:00.000-07:00

Nothing makes you feel like a crappy mother more, than being sick. Today I was sick. Today I was crappy. Four hours of television crappy. Hot dogs and applesauce crappy. On any normal day I don't especially love playing pretend. I know. I am supposed to be the theatre geek who loves to play dress up and make forts, and while yes, I do love those things, I can't stand (and I mean nearly loathe) recreating scenes from Disney princess movies with Abigail. I feel really guilty about this because I envision really good mothers as being the kind who can reproduce perfect dialogue from the third Tinkerbell at the drop of a hat. Good mothers love that shiz. I know they do. I just can't do it though and I feel so badly every time I play for 30 seconds only to find some near emergency dishwasher unloading that must be done immediately, making it impossible for me to continue. "But maybe later Ab. Just play by yourself for awhile." I love reading to my children, facilitating art projects and science experiments. I enjoy the weekly outing to the Children's museum. I can do blocks for a while. Just please, (oh God please) don't make me pretend that lime green throw blanket is my Rapunzel hair ever again.

Maybe it's just that I'm sick. Maybe it's just that Abi was up all night coughing then crying. Maybe it's just that no matter how hard I tried, I grew up, and even though I love watching Abigail play pretend (my heart nearly swells at her earnest rendition of a spider spinning her web) I can't seem to summon that kind of magic anymore.

Childhood is so full of wonder. Parenthood is so full of crappy, long-ass sick days.

Musings

2011-10-28T11:52:00.000-07:00

On my mind:

1. Needing to buy raffia for Blake and my Halloween costumes. After an ill fated attempt at Woody and Jessie from the Toy Story movies we decided on scarecrows.
2. The condo is on the market. It is exceptionally stressful trying to keep things in order so the house can be shown. Yesterday I had a fifteen minute warning. I hung up the phone and turned slowly to asses the situation. It was so bad. Abi was busy with Play Doh, Gwen had about every toy in the house strewn through the kitchen. Dishes in the sink. Laundry by the door. I threw what I could into the closets and piled the kids in the car so we could be gone. Hilarious and stress provoking. I'm not going to let that happen again.
3. I've been dappling with the idea of looking for a part time job this summer and depending on the situation maybe sticking with it permanently. So many to consider though....I wonder if I could even find something I'd like to do, and get hired to do it? Could I find the perfect, 22 year old, fun, hip, car owning college student to watch my kids? Do I want to do that? I used to get so stressed out about finding a job again but it's funny how much as a parent you just have to let go of your ego. I'm totally okay finding something, anything really and proving myself and working toward some larger, better position. Maybe larger isn't better? Maybe I just want fun, or at least fun people. So many thoughts....
4. I feel like we are the precipice of something. Blake taking a year of leave to teach abroad? Selling the house? A new endeavor, something completely out of my realm of comfortable? Something as benign as finally becoming a runner or maybe something bigger, ballet again...the theatre. Maybe it's just regular date nights?
5. This summer Blake and I have decided on a little vacation to Las Vegas, just the two of us. Vegas seems an odd choice but when you have to spend so much time being responsible, always, the thought of cutting loose a bit sounds incredible.

And Again

2011-10-26T13:24:00.000-07:00

And I'm back. And you probably never noticed I was gone, but here I am. As it turns out writing about decorating ones home is not one of my great passions. Autumn has fallen slowly on us and all of a sudden there are quiet mornings again. The past year has been so busy and loud, challenging and plump. Gwen is one and Abi is a preschooler. I've finished nursing the baby and the children sleep all night long in their beds. The cooler air has settled onto my shoulders and I am relieved. Gwen will be walking soon. I made it. Here I am.

New

2011-08-28T19:52:00.000-07:00

The summer is dissolving and I don't mind. The summer is more here than it has ever been. It is filling my mornings with hot August sun and my afternoons with soggy beach bags. I've forgotten to blog (not that anyone is reading here anymore) and it's okay. I'm so happy to tell you my knees are tanned and my heart is full. That is what a balmy August will do for you.

Anyway, even though my children hate to nap I'm going to start writing again. I'm going to find a new space though and I'm thinking of calling it, "The Little House Project." This little condo of ours that we can't sell has become a bit of a project and we're loving where it's taking us, both house wise and beyond. I've been documenting projects, photographing the summer girls, and spending time relishing the sun beams.

It's not a perfect life. It's just a happy one. And I'm so grateful. (This is an aside mostly for myself so that mid January when I'm up to my neck in my "blue phase" I can remember the feel of an oscillating fan on my neck, the sounds of a sunburned husband rolling ice around in his water glass, and the quiet that appears once the children, berried and blushed, have finally slumbered.)

August Again

2011-07-29T22:19:00.000-07:00

Today was the first day of our summer vacation. Blake has an entire month off from work and we're all so happy to be able to enjoy the time together. I thought I'd try to take a picture or two every day to record what we've been up to and to look back on this winter as a warm reminder of what's to come.

This is a picture of me noshing on an amazing Little Big Burger, sporting a can o' beer, and wearing an ill fitting strapless bra.

I've been so sleep deprived recently I stopped writing. I stopped taking photographs and remembering to note the happy details of our days. With a bit of coaxing our Gwenyth is sleeping at last and I feel myself resurfacing. The weather is starting to ripen, small surprises are in store, and suddenly I'm here again. I'm here. I'm happy. It's August, like a wish.

End of July Questions

2011-07-28T13:38:00.000-07:00

A quick interview with my big girl.

1. What is your name? Abigail Greta
2. How old are you? 3
3. What is your favorite color? Pink
4. Who is your best friend? Andy and Jack
5. What is your favorite animal? Monkey
6. What do you want to be when you grow up? A nice Abi with beautiful eyes
7. What is your favorite movie? Cinderella
8. What is your favorite book? Animal ones
9. What makes you happy? Mama
10. What makes you sad? When Gwennie poops
11. What is your favorite food? Chicken
12. What is your favorite song? Twinkle Twinkle
13. What makes you laugh? Gwenyth (pronounced Gwenif)
14. How old is Gwenyth? 6
15. How old is Mama? 9
16. How old is daddy? 3

Abi proceeded to then interview me, scribbling answers next to mine on a pad of paper. She had a fascinating list of questions most of which went like this: "Are you a ladybug? Are you a hill? Are you a pillow? Are you a box?"

Catching Up

2011-07-12T21:42:00.000-07:00

1. We tried to rent out our condo. In the end our timing was off but it was no time wasted as we now know exactly how to proceed next year or so.
2. In an attempt to settle ourselves back into the swing of things we painted the inside of the condo. We lightened up everything and it feels so nice. Gone are the dark red and brown walls! We've moved on to a a whole new beachy blue and white vibe.
3. Abi is starting preschool in the fall and in the spirit of "getting her feet wet" she'll attend preschool camp (dinosaur camp!) every morning next week. She's so excited!
4. Gwennie is clapping, though not crawling, but babbling and eating, oh my, and she's lovely. To me.
5. It's cool here which feels so odd when watching the recent news of such massive heat waves across most of the country. Both girls wore sweaters today on our walk. Gwen donned a hat. Crazy.
6. My parents are still here and it's busy and fun and tiring and happy. There have been date nights and family dinners. Blake and I made out downtown in the middle of the day. It felt indulgent and satisfying.
7. Today the girls and I had the day completely to ourselves and I loved every minute. I'd missed our routine. They had as well, I could tell so much that Abi just wanted to be home. It rained all morning and none of us minded.
8. August is near! Blake is off the entire month! I die!
9. Abi is riding an actual pedal bike this summer. Blake and I both agree that she looks like a little trained monkey when doing so. It is cool and funny at the same time.
10. I'm so thankful. It's sunny and cool. I'm home with my girls and I love it. I miss my girlfriends from MT so much. I made a wonderful dinner tonight, but have made terrible dinners most other nights this week. I feel soft and womanly. I want to feel firm and boyish? Maybe. I am so happy. It is summer. I love you for reading this nonsense. I do.

A Good Read

2011-07-12T21:16:00.000-07:00

This is what I'm currently reading, and re-reading, and reading out loud and thinking about later and thumbing through quickly and whispering under my breath, it's what I'm hoping remember. Every day. Because it's so beautiful, and it's so true. It's such a gentle reminder to me of everything that is important.

I especially like this passage from:

The Parents Tao Te Ching

A New Interpretation- Ancient Advice for Modern Parents

By William Martin

25. Clouds of Light

They look so small and frail

But they are so great and magnificent.

They are born of the same womb

that birthed the cosmos

and knitted together the galaxies.

If you could see them as they truly are,

you would be astounded.

You would see not little children,

but dancing clouds of light,

energy in motion,

swimming in an ocean of love.

They are so much more

than what you see.

As are you.

Life can seem mundane.

But it is not.

Children can seem ordinary,

and troublesome,

and fragile.

But they are not.

You may feel alone,

and separated,

and powerless.

But you are not.

On Summer Days

2011-06-29T10:29:00.000-07:00

On weekends we go strawberry picking. We also go out for dinner, or play in the city fountains downtown. On weekends we are a bit more laid back about sweeping the kitchen. We leave warm laundry on the bed. Sometimes we buy cupcakes after dinner for no reason at all.

On weekdays (summer weekdays mind you) Blake tiptoes out of the bedroom around 6a.m. Gwennie and I snooze together for another half an hour or so. Then we wake up and have breakfast. Abi usually wakes up halfway through Gwen's breakfast. I feed her and then while the girls are playing I catch up on some quick cleaning or laundry. After that, we will either take a walk in the stroller, bike ride for Abi or play in the backyard. We always play in the backyard in the morning because it gets such beautiful morning sun. Then it's time for Gwen to take a quick nap and Abi gets to watch PBS. During nap time I finally have a chance to wash my face or take a shower. Once I'm ready for the day I check email, make phone calls or clean a bit more.

When Gwen wakes up we head out for a play date or outing. During the summer we almost always go out to do something whether it's the park, water fountain, zoo, friends house or run errands. We come home and have lunch, or more likely I pack a lunch to bring with us. When we get home I put Abi down for a nap first. She rarely takes one but has gotten really good about playing quietly if she isn't tired. Then I nurse Gwen and put her to sleep. During the summer Blake usually comes home during nap time. We hang out and wait for the kids to wake up, or if Abi isn't sleeping Blake might put her into the stroller and take her for a run. The rest of the evening we try to stay outside as much as possible, hanging out at the park, in the back yard, or even at the garden. I usually make dinner while Blake plays with the girls. After dinner we play some more and then get the chickens into the bath. Now that Gwen is getting bigger we can usually bathe them together, which they both love. Blake reads books to Abi while I nurse the baby and then if we are lucky we have a couple of hours to hang out together.

And if feels pretty nice.

Birthday Blog

2011-06-21T15:33:00.000-07:00

It's so sunny today that my teeth ache. I couldn't have asked for more than that, except that mom and dad are still here and so there will be strawberry cake. Blake took me shopping last weekend which I found thrilling, especially since he happily ventured into H&M and took the time to help me browse the racks (a sentence that is haunting him still.) He swallowed a look of horror when I came out wearing a yellow striped poncho. He told me the navy mini dress looked hot (even though he didn't understand the sleeves.) Tonight we will sit outside in the sun while the folks mind the children. I'm thinking cuban food, though peruvian sounds best (as it usually does.) Last week Abi and Blake pulled up the garlic. It will take months to cure but already I'm tasting it. You'd be surprised how hard it is to find a suitable spot for the garlic to cure. It's been abandoned on the porch for now, greeting us heartily every time we return home. Abi likes to grab the fragile braid and hoist it overhead.

On the first day of my thirty first year I will remember birthday kisses from Abigail, her fingers so soft and garlicky, the first warm sun of June, and other things too, quiet musings from another year. What have we learned? Where do we go from here? What do I want to remember?

It's Been Awhile

2011-06-16T13:16:00.000-07:00

It's been a slow spring for strawberries. It's been sunflowers on the kitchen table and cupcakes on the counters. It's been my parents, here for the next six weeks, and chicken sausages, asparagus and israeli couscous, things like that. It's been a season of sleepless nights. We keep our brow down, focusing on the end of something, or perhaps it's the beginning of something we're really after. It's been yoga and chanting and the odd realization that it's the chanting I appreciate nearly as much as the yoga. It's been paper dolls and little dolls, bigger dolls and Barbie dolls. It's been dirt and sand, and seeds and wood chips. It's been the waiting for things like crawling, or swimming, shish-kebabs and painted toenails. It's been waiting for the strawberries. It's been good and hard and lovely and painful. It's been easier than expected. It's been quieter than necessary. It's been just as it should be. June.

A Softening

2011-06-07T14:15:00.000-07:00

My hair is recently shorter. It feels amazing. Why do we hold onto these things? Things like hair and old jeans, river stones and tattered quilt squares. I'm really trying to let go these days. Summer is mounting and I'm throwing buttons into the wind.

For Abigail

2011-06-01T14:03:00.000-07:00

Last night Abi brought me home a bouquet of chive blossoms from the garden. They were covered in ants and smelled faintly of onions, but nevertheless, still beautiful. She will be three next week which doesn't really sound so old to me. She has grown into a girl, it's true, but there are still moments of fragility beneath her self reliance. She refuses to hold my hand except in the street and yet the smallest sensation, her foot asleep perhaps, and she will crumple into me, all tears and flushed cheeks. She is to me, the perfect merging of little girl and nature lover. She insists on dresses, the fluffier the better (which secretly I adore), and still she wants to play with worms, to splash in the mud and search for slugs.

She is the girl who is still afraid I might vacuum her up if she doesn't reach the couch in time. She's the one who hates when I brush her hair but never minds her fingernails clipped.

I think about this past year, her third, and how she's had to summon the patience of a much older child, often waiting for me to do something with the baby before I could attend to her. It must have been so hard at first. I want her to know that. I want her to know that I think it must have been so hard to have be so flexible at such a young age. I want her to know that I am so proud of her. I'm proud of her for being a sister and also for being such a spirited little person.

There are some visions that a mother holds on to forever. The first time you see your child all pink and speckled, the moments just after sleep, their first bite of watermelon or strawberry, and for me, this:

Abigail at dusk, nearly three, wearing rain boots and a party dress, her fingernails black with dirt, traces of peanut butter lining her lips and in her dusty, hands a bouquet of chives still covered in ants, and in her eyes, excitement and love, and still beyond it all, innocence.

She'll be three, and I'll remember.

On Some Other Occasion

2011-05-23T13:09:00.000-07:00

Over the weekend I bought an old desk for fifteen bones from the neighbors who were having a yard sale. It was after 5 p.m. on a Friday night and it looked like rain, (it felt like rain) but nonetheless I drug it into the backyard and began to layer white semi-gloss haphazardly. I painted with complete urgency, a hunger to finish something (this once to have a tangible product) before bed. By the time the rain started falling we'd pulled the beast back into the house to dry.

The children went to bed late and Blake and I sipped beer on the floor, the desk, our chaperone, and talked of the children, and somehow healthcare, the Giro D'Italia, and then again with the children. We were so young still, so old now, and tired like always. We were just two ordinary people trying to find our way around all of the things and people we were responsible for. If you had asked me then, I might have slipped out the door holding onto my husbands hand. I might have driven up the mountain (right on up) to the lake. Might have shoved off from shore in a metal canoe, armed with a satchel of pears. Maybe paddled out to the middle of the water where the moon shines like oyster pearls. Might have bobbed softly 'til morning.

After awhile we went to bed with the windows still open, the desk curing slowly in the living room. The moist spring air sleeping in the shadows.

Slowly Now

2011-05-19T12:46:00.000-07:00

I've been doing less writing lately- more lying in the grass, planting flowers, tending to a sick husband (strep throat), tending to a sick baby (stomach virus), tending to a healthy three year old (three year old angst!) I've been making bread and cleaning out closets. There have been dinners with friends and afternoons spent at the parade or the park. It's that time of year where I've started thumbing through Dandelion Wine again, reading passages out loud to my husband. I haven't been writing or running. I think about sewing (I do.) Some afternoons are so still. They are so unusual in their brightness and warmth I can do nothing but close my lids to the sun. And it feels like a prayer.

Our new flood lights are working like gangbusters

2011-05-05T13:47:00.000-07:00

The only thing worse than having bronchitis, is having bronchitis with a baby sleeping in your room. Inevitably the only way to keep the baby asleep is to the leave the room every time you need to cough, blow or hawk. The only thing worse than that, is having a three year old who refuses to let you shut her bedroom door. (If ever that door were to close 1/4 of an inch Abigail would rise from her slumber, face puckered into a an eventual wail, and before she could even get her feet over the side of the bed her shoulders would start shaking with fury! Fury I say!) Inevitably the only way to keep her asleep, in a condo mind you, is to actually step outside your front door (yes into the nippy spring air) every time you want to must cough, blow or hawk. It is a vicious cycle of baby waking to nurse followed by holdingacoughin until you reach the living room, wait holditinlonger, until you reach the doorstep. Back to bed and repeat. After what feels like hours of coughing on the front stoop in pajamas you might finally make it to bed. You may even fall asleep, only to be woken up 30 minutes later (because three hours have somehow passed) by an enthusiastic nurser. By morning you give up and decide to sleep on the couch, with the monitor on mind you (because in the middle of the night your husband could just as well be in someone else's house entirely he's so helpful), and where you can reach the front door easier, only to realize all of the blankets are stored in either bedroom. You pull a small baby blanket over your shoulders and fall asleep just as you hear your husbands alarm going off on his cell phone. Since he is in the bedroom with the door closed he won't hear it unless you wake him.

It's like pie in the sky, I could fly

2011-05-02T13:37:00.000-07:00

Yesterday the sun came out. It has been a long winter here and so it has everywhere I suppose, but here, where the grey sky surrounds you so tightly you wonder how you'll breathe come tomorrow, the winter has been especially ruthless. We went running with the ladies, and even though I inevitably slow Blake down, eventually begging him to stop and walk, it was good to be out in the warmth of a spring day. I think because of the weather here, Portland attracts an odd assortment of residents. Chuck Paulanik wrote a book about Portland titled "Fugitives and Refugees." I think it is so aptly named. Collectively we're all a bit of a mess. This city is brimming over with some of the best restaurants in the country, more strip clubs per capita, funky hookah bars, and lush, rainforest-like parks. Once it hits 60 degrees the tube tops and roller skates come out. I love it here. This city is so tempestuous.

However long the winter, spring eventually unfurls and so do we, out onto our moss covered verandas. All at once the streets are clogged with bicycles and scooters, the sidewalks heavy with strollers. Everyone has their windows down. Everyone is listening to hip hop, myself included. I like to allow my arm to drift casually out of the car, resting softly on the side panel as I drive. The wind blows up my blouse and my hair sails out of the window. We are united in our thirst for the sun, and I find myself smiling at each passing driver. At a red light we share a look that says, "This is my ideal moment in time. I'm so high on this weather I could die, right now, sitting in my car with the window down."

In Portland, sunny spring days are a bit of an addiction. I find myself itchy with anticipation for the next one.

Music Before Dinner (Makes You Get Thinner)

2011-04-28T12:35:00.000-07:00

This is usually how Blake pacifies the children while I'm making dinner. As soon as he gets home he washes his hands, throws on his soccer shorts and grabs his guitar. It's a really nice routine and makes dinner prep so relaxing and fun. I especially like it when he and Abi sing together, usually songs Blake makes up about the toddler generation. The melodies are distinctly Dylan, yet the words speak to baby rights and revolutions. Abi jumps in enthusiastically, belting out the words, "It's my generation..." in perfect pitch and vibrato. I wasn't kidding when I told him last night that I thought he could really make a career for himself recording hippie children's songs. (But seriously, do we need a new TV or what?!)

First This

2011-04-27T14:14:00.000-07:00

I was going to write down all of the little things I have to be thankful for lately (there are just so many) but then it felt weird, like I was flaunting my good fortune. I do have it easy though. I think about the fact that my husband makes it home before 4:30 pretty much every day and we have time to frolic on the promenade before grabbing dinner on the way home. I think about how I'm able to see these sweet girls every morning, to snuggle and bathe, to teach and make laugh and I feel so grateful. I appreciate being able to talk about the hard days, the dark days, the times I wish I knew better what to do or how to cope. Some times though I think it's okay to just admit to being happy. I didn't do anything to deserve this. But I will say it doesn't pass me by quietly. I'm thankful for early tulips, rosy cheeks, and a perfectly browned quiche. I think a hot shower before bed is a gift. We might not be traveling the world right now (just as my heart aches to do) but there is happiness in longing too. I'd hate to forget what that feels like.

Bunny My Honey

2011-04-26T12:06:00.000-07:00

Abi's newest obsession is the camera. In other news, I am seriously knocking out this Easter candy.

After a busy morning with friends the girls are both asleep. I bribed Abi to sleep with promises of an entire chocolate bunny head. (If she were to sleep, I was planning on eating the body.) It might not be the most proactive approach to parenting, bribing the children to sleep with candy, but it sure feels good to have a couple of minutes to myself. I've made a lot of sacrifices these last few years. I've earned this bunny body dammit and especially the chance to enjoy the half of an hour to myself.

Happy Tuesday! Thanks for reading.

As Easter Ends

2011-04-25T13:18:00.000-07:00

After a beautiful, busy week, days full of sun and chilled wine, spring fruit pies, and romantic childless outings we woke up to a quiet house. I heard mom and dad slip out the door before dawn. Their only remainders, a still-warm, half press of coffee and note from mom on pink stationary. The rain has settled back in around us and somehow (even still) I feel a comfort in the reliability of a sodden sky line.

Some days are so special you feel grateful for weeks after. (Some little girls are so special you wonder at how you'll ever be able to tell them enough.)

So Sweet

2011-04-21T13:38:00.000-07:00

My parents are here for Easter. Really, it's pretty fantastic. They are watching the ladies tonight so that Blake and I can have dinner out. It will be fancy and quiet and we can't wait. There have been so many things I've failed to record lately, the tulip festival, Easter egg hunting at the park, sunny days and other things too. I've been busy been grabbing lattes with mom in the afternoon and taking walks with dad and the girls. We've done a lot of eating, naturally. Today at lunch my mom argued with me over what I wanted to eat. I was craving a salad but she thought I ought to have a sandwich. I reminded her I was 30 and that I would be having the salad. Then she proceeded to pour the dressing on it for me. I don't really know what else to say about that, except thankfully the meat had already been cut. Easter will be here so soon. There are little girl bonnets hanging on door knobs, small gifts and chocolates tucked away. April is closing and I'm thinking of spring things: painting the house something lighter, writing something (anything) and running in the forest with Blake. (More on that later.)

Signs of Spring

2011-04-10T16:36:00.000-07:00

If ever I was blooming

2011-04-08T13:05:00.000-07:00

There have been so many little buds of hope today. I made a new friend, we met for coffee and took the kids to the park, and I was so happy doing so. My Abi Greta inspected a bee for several minutes, she picked weeds and ran through the trees. Gwennie Claire sat in the warm grass for the first time. I opened my sweater and threw my face back against the full arch of the sun. It will rain tomorrow, I'm sure of it. Some things are so certain they can sting you behind the knees. But never mind. The sky whispers, never you mind.

Little Lovely

2011-04-07T14:07:00.000-07:00

Abi has Blake's chin. She can't help the fact that 90% of the pictures she is in turn out something like this. Is it just me or does she look like some sort of woodland creature; chipmunk maybe, or even hedgehog? I think she is just beautiful and it is definitely because she is mine, but also because she is smart and emotional and very funny. This morning over breakfast she cried, as she does nearly every morning, because her hair is not black. It breaks my heart that she has found fault with her soft, baby, golden locks. I rubbed her sweet face and assured her that her hair will darken in time and reminded her how beautiful she is, right now, full faced, wispy haired and all. She is lovely. If there is anything I could impart onto my daughters it would be to love themselves. Just that. Inside and out. We talked about liking yourself after breakfast. I told her I liked myself very much. She told me she liked herself too. Then she wanted to talk about turtles. And so we did.

I was here

2011-04-04T13:18:00.000-07:00

It seemed we might have slogged away the long, long winter. There was a single afternoon. The park. Sidewalk chalk before dinner and something else there too, a lightness of being perhaps. But no. The rain continues to wail, and it will for some time. Abi and I pull on our boots (though we long for sandals, cotton dresses and dandelion fluff) and we walk through the neighborhood. I can only see her small legs from beneath her umbrella. She walks proudly in search of puddles. I walk heavily in search of sky. Daffodils suffice. We make homemade cinnamon rolls later. We finger paint and play with paper dolls. Another day, though not entirely lackluster.

I'm thankful to have been a witness.

March Fare thee well

2011-03-30T12:08:00.000-07:00

My coffee is sitting in the microwave. I just realized that sitting here and yet I'm not convinced I'll venture to move it anytime soon. There is some sun. More than yesterday, less than hoped for. The girls and I hit the co-op early and then came home to make cake pops. Abi was allowed one, while I ate four behind her back. Tonight we'll use the garden leeks, and cornbread too. But first a bike ride for Abi, a brisk walk for the baby and I; we like to watch our neighbors chickens, outride the rain, pull our fingers through the damp camellia bushes.

Dressed to Spill

2011-03-29T11:35:00.000-07:00

Photo courtesy of Abigail

In my former life I used to be quite fashionable. Most people who know me now would never believe it, but at one time I looked pretty pulled together. I wore chandelier earrings to the grocery store and kept a tube of red lipstick in my pocket. These days I need to be comfortable, and especially since I'm nursing, my clothing options are really limited. My budget is limited even further and I find myself wearing some clothes I have had since college. My friend Sarah and I are always talking about getting ourselves on that show, "What Not to Wear." The problem is, neither of us looks that bad really, just sort of boring and plain.

I love reading blogs about fashion. There is always some quirky, New York college student who gives us her daily outfits, play by play. She looks gorgeous, well manicured and hip. At the end of her blog we get the low down on where she purchased such amazing garments and accessories. Wouldn't it be funny to do the same thing for a mother of two small children; a woman who almost never gets a morning shower or a blow dry? The very person who goes shopping perhaps twice a year. I thought so. Vogue can eat their heart out.

Frumpy corduroy pants: GAP

Cardigan: Target

T-shirt: Banana Republic (outlet yo!)

What Spring Brings

2011-03-28T12:24:00.000-07:00

Spring break came and went. We hiked the hills steeped in blue fog. We trampled through the art museum, ate all over city and even took a quick trip to Yakima. It was a week full of long showers and late afternoon walks in the rain.

Today the house is quieter and we all seemed to have changed. Gwenyth is now sitting up, which makes her seem so big and sassy. Suddenly, she's this almost girl. I feel refreshed and strong. I'm whistling through the rain. Summer is coming. Summer is a big steam engine in my chest.

And my Abigail. She is lovely in her almost-three-ness. Today as I was tucking her in for a nap (which will most likely be only a half an hour of bedroom singing) I leaned in to kiss her. She seemed fully formed. A being all her own. She brushed away my kisses and giggled at me with knowing eyes. She looked at me kindly, feeling the weight of her own freedom, her separateness from me. It was only a moment; a second still dissolving in my lap.

THe Family

2011-03-19T13:24:00.000-07:00

When you left this morning, carrying our girls like two marionettes to the car, I watched you from the window. I could feel a lightening then against my neck as I noted the time and your departure. I laced up my shoes deliberately and I went out into the day. I thought about you as I ran- enjoying the museum, the errands you would suffer through, the girls (my life) tucked into car seats. After a shower and a blow dry I curled up in the sheets and tried to remember what a bed felt like before children, before even you. You'd warned me not to clean, reasoning I should make the most of my freedom, and yet polishing the wood in silence felt something like a treat. Six months had breezed through the house and in all of those days there had been so little, empty, moments of my own. As I stood in the kitchen painting hummus onto toast I thought about all of my layers. I studied my reflection, remembering past lives. Later you pulled up to the house, I tied my hair back and rushed out to greet you. A full, almost heavy feeling descended onto my shoulders and I smiled. I'd missed the weight of you.

Wednesday Photo Booth

2011-03-16T12:45:00.000-07:00

Because that's all I have time for (and no I haven't washed my hair)

India. An almost lover.

2011-03-08T13:27:00.000-08:00

Yesterday some things occurred to me, something almost shy of wisdom, and I felt hideous then, for who I'd been in the past. Thinking of that trip to India and how ordinary I must have seemed, clutching my backpack to my chest; that look of false bravado masking my fear. We bought soft Indian satchels and stuffed them full of Clif bars and bottled Pepsi. We talked a lot about the foulness of it all. The only pictures I have from that time are grey, blurry shots taken from a rickshaw.

Yesterday I saw my younger self and I nearly retched at the memory of us scowling in the rain just outside the Taj Mahal. At the time I could almost feel the moment slipping me by- the rushed way we breezed through her arches, whisking away history, the damp smell of muslin, the echo of car horns and sitars dueling through the rafters. We ate dinner at Pizza Hut in Agra. Travel was wasted on us.

Now I know I have to go back to those long, stinking, alleys. I want to bury myself in a cup of chai and watch as the world pedals along. I need to eat chappatis and rotis with hot mango pickles and not worry so much about the soot. I wasn't ready for India then, I know that now.

When I told Blake I thought we needed to go back, he agreed, knowing full well the weight of our preconceived notions, our former selves, the arrogance of youth. "We'll take the girls," he said, and I nodded.

One day I'll follow the scent of sandalwood to the Mother Ganges. I'll wade into the ash and sludge bravely and I'll ask for forgiveness.

Life as we know it

2011-03-07T13:43:00.000-08:00

Abigail experimenting with Blake's violin

I get asked a lot how I am able to stay home with the girls, especially since we do it all on a teacher's salary. It's taken a couple of years to really get the whole thing down in all honesty, but nowadays we're doing really well at living within our means. Here is my list of do's for staying home with the kids, or for staying on a budget for that matter:

- After paying all of your bills, pull out the amount of money (in cash) you have budgeted for groceries a week and keep it in a envelope. In our case that equates to about $130 a week for groceries.
- Only go to the grocery store once and stock up for the entire week. Save $10 or so for fresh produce mid week.
- Do not go out to eat. (This one killed us the first two years. We still ate out at least a couple of times a week. Now it's maybe once a month and actually that seems like plenty with two young kids, plus we really appreciate it now when we do go out.)
- Use the basic cell phone plan.
- Cut out all extraneous expenses like cable etc.
- Pull out cash at the beginning of each month for household expenses (ie. Target) and put into a separate envelope and then have a final envelope for extra cash. (Basically, don't use anything but cash.) This is the cash I use for grabbing coffee with a friend, buying something for the girls or anything extra we might need.
- Make a weekly menu so that when you go to the store you have all of your meals planned out.
- Use birthdays and Christmas as a time to get something you have been wanting. I always tell my parents to send money for clothing for my birthday or Christmas. Blake usually asks for bike stuff or things he wouldn't normally buy himself. (This is the hardest thing for me. I daydream about the day when I will be able to shop for myself and buy clothes like I used to.)
- Budget down to the most basic expenses like gas. We try to only spend $80/mo. on gas. If we drive a lot or take a long trip to the beach etc. then Blake will usually ride his bike to work for a week to "catch up."
- Find things to do that don't cost any money. I can't tell you how many wonderful things I have found to do in this city that are free. We try to make cooking a nice dinner and hanging out with the kids a fun weekend night.
- Join a co-op if you can. Ours has been amazing. For $20 a month we have a community of like minded individuals we can swap clothes and baby goods with, as well as a safe and fun meeting place for the kids to play on especially cold days.
- And finally, find time to splurge. We "take the summer off" so to speak since that is a time that we had a lot more money. We generally throw the budget out the window for three months and enjoy splurging on food, restaurants, activities and the occasional purchases. I think it's good to find a time to enjoy a bit of abundance, and actually it always means so much more when you know what a treat it is.

Anyway, that's how we do it. It can be really challenging, but also brings out the creativity and resourcefulness in us all. I can understand how it wouldn't work for everyone, but for us, it's been more than worth it. I really hope we can hold on to some of these practices even once we are both working again.

My Season

2011-02-28T13:42:00.000-08:00

Since I'm stranded (STRANDED I'll tell you) in a very small condo in the middle of the pouring, almost March rain, I thought I should write down some of things knocking around in my brain. I need the kids to nap today. I need them to. There is a moment in the day when you are standing there with your five month old clinging to your hip, a pair of bent fairy wings tied across your shoulders, and your toddler is screaming, "faster mom, you're not flying fast enough" that you just want to call it day and open the bottle of white wine you are specifically reserving for the turkey piccata on Tuesday and drink it in the locked bathroom.

Today I'm wondering how in the heck I got myself in this situation. Didn't I want to be a successful psychologist living abroad? Aren't I the girl who lives for the sun? What in God's name am I doing stuck in this tiny condo, taking care of these squirrely girls, in the effing rain? Why on earth am I wearing black socks with my brown cardigan?

I. Swear. To. God.

Once these (beautiful) girls, (the very ones who bring so much meaning and love to my life), get older I promise to myself that I will find the time to be more creative, more spiritual and athletic. I will take the time to run. To paint. To sculpt and dance. I will sing in a choir and audition for plays. I will drop in to that yoga class on Wednesday evenings. I so much miss having some sort of a life beyond my sweet babies. Why can't I have it all? Damn you attachment parenting!!

Right now though, I'm going to go rub Abi's back so that she can go to sleep, and then I'm going to nurse Gwenyth down, because that's what I do. These babies, this life.

This is my season.

Just another reason to love portland

2011-02-24T12:47:00.000-08:00

School was cancelled today because of snow. After what appeared to be maybe an inch of snow we've had nothing but blue, sunny, skies. The pavement is dry. We could barely find enough snow to muster a good romp earlier this morning. I'm not complaining though. I'm enjoying what seems to be one of the nicer winter days we've had all season. (And I'm sending love to all my people in MT who really know what a snow storm looks like and never get the chance to enjoy a snow day.)

Needful Things

2011-02-23T12:28:00.000-08:00

The babies are sick. My days are spent running from one nose to the other and tending to hot foreheads. Abigail cries incessantly. She moans with each cough and croaks loudly, "I'm sick!" (She's so much like me.) Gwennie smiles as she always does, smacking away the trail of phlegm, and plays with her feet while I attend to her older, and much more dramatic sister.

They say the snow is coming. And I say: just in time.

Friday Again

2011-02-18T12:13:00.000-08:00

And so here we are Friday. What a long sticky week it's been. I'm so looking forward to dinner with Pete and Laura on Saturday and drinks with Sarah on Sunday. We'll take the babes to OMSI and the pool too. I think if we're lucky we might find the time for something quiet like the new book I just started about India. Why does my heart ache for books about India? They are so much richer than any other. Abigail started a new gymnastics class yesterday. She summersaulted and I felt a little piece of me roll off down the mat with her. We've just enrolled her in preschool for the fall as well. She's so excited to have her own little agenda. I'm equally excited for her and the chance to volunteer in her classroom. The stitches are all coming together. My father will be here on Thursday. He hates to stay away from the littles for too long. We'll make him something fresh for dinner- something he couldn't get in Montana. Winter crab legs perhaps.

It's the little things

2011-02-16T13:38:00.000-08:00

I enter the bathroom at 6:10 a.m. wearing the old pair of pajama pants I bought when I pregnant with Abigail, faded yellow with pale blue dragonflies. My t-shirt is an ill fitting, Goodwill find from years ago. There is dried breast milk covering the entire left side and my socks are fuzzy, electric blue. I glance in the mirror and notice my three day old hair, flattened to my scalp and oily, the back a mass of knots amongst one straggling rubber band. My eyes are puffy and the zit I must have picked in the middle of the night has since bled and scabbed over.

I notice the note my husband left me while showering earlier this morning. I smile broadly as I reach for my bleach stained, University of Oregon sweatshirt, the very one I wear every morning while making breakfast.

And just maybe I toss my pony tail over my shoulder with a little flick. He thinks I'm sexy. Even though.

As it stands

2011-02-15T12:15:00.000-08:00

Vida Voce sings on their album, Rose City, "I wanna go back to the grey and green..." and that is exactly how I would describe it. The Rose City. Grey and Green. Mist in the trees. Pavement meets grass. Rain seducing the bamboo. This is one thirsty city.

The girls and I are unraveling the days until summer. I'm counting them up and checking them off. Abi asks to play outside wistfully. She looks into the backyard and sighs with impatience. It's true we're in the trenches, weather wise, but somehow February brings out the best in us. It is the surly apex. The peak from which we all descend, running toward berries.

I think Gwen might finally be old enough to take the plunge. She was born here after all and so her veins must run salty with dew, as Abi's do. Maybe we'll button up and head out. Greet the crocuses. We need to wind up, as we always do this time of year, for an early spring. It's really still so far off, but don't ask me, I'm pretending it's just around the corner.

Six Years

2011-02-14T07:00:00.000-08:00

He called me on a Tuesday. It was raining where he was and the phone was crackly. "I think we should get married now" he said. "I don't want to wait until August." I was standing in my room at the old house in Suva. Valentines Day was two weeks away. "How about the 14th?" I said smiling.

After we got off the phone I hailed a taxi and headed downtown to Tapoo's, the only department store in the city, to buy a dress. It was white linen, simple.

Later, I rode the bus home, the whole Pacific stretching before me. The dress was tucked tightly beneath my arm and I was so happy.

And I still am.

Happy Anniversary Niko!

Valentine's Eve

2011-02-13T20:55:00.000-08:00

The weekend was lovely. Big girls and little girls and afternoon walks. It was baked chicken, sweet potatoes and brussels sprouts. Anniversary boots and light rain.

Tonight the valentines are all laid out. The chocolate croissants I didn't make are rising on the counter for tomorrow morning. The girls are warm with sleep.

Love, love, love.

A little glitter

2011-02-07T16:46:00.000-08:00

Today the I put new pictures into new frames. I helped Abigail make a diorama in a shoebox. We used pink felt for blankets. I tied my hair into two braids and brushed off the shower I probably should have taken. I thought hard about all of the emails I need to return, the calls to make, but I didn't make them. Instead, Abigail and I opened the box of vintage valentines I found at a local antique store. The amaryllis I planted last month is blooming. The sun is so sharp this time of year. Gwenyth's cheeks are like moon pie.

Welcome to my random

2011-01-31T12:59:00.000-08:00

I haven't felt like writing much lately. It's mostly a time thing- I can't find the time, or if I do, I just want to sit and read or just sit or sleep or something else like that. I've noticed recently that I'm a little cobwebby upstairs as well. When talking to a friend earlier today about a book we'd both read I felt like I couldn't make a coherent thought. I had so many things I'd loved about the book and yet I couldn't convey a single thing clearly. It must be all that night waking (which isn't so bad) or maybe the lack of light? I'm aging, brain cells are dying, perhaps this is only normal.

Recent accomplishments/fond memories and happy somethings:

- The winter vegetable and bean soup with pesto I made last night. Really good, and healthy too.
- Gwen rolling over, and over and over.
- The bouquet of wildflowers on my kitchen table from my husband.
- Making valentines for the grandparents with Abigail.
- Winter walks sans rain, and frosty, pink noses and dry shoes!
- Putting the littles to bed Saturday evening and watching an entire movie with my husband.
- Discussion and planning of a multi-family camping trip this summer.
- Discussion and planning? of next year's anniversary spent downtown, (hotel, theatre tickets, late night dining!!) without the children.
- Discussion and planning of Blake's birthday this Friday (Antipasto extravaganza, chocolate cake, baby drool and more!), and the special date night we'll enjoy on Thursday thanks to my parents friends who are willing to wrangle the squirrels for an hour or two.
- Cleavage. No joke. Squint if you must.

And the setbacks (though less substantial and a much shorter list):

- Gwen pooping on the crotch of my jeans while at Swap N Play today.
- No naps for Abi. No quiet time for Abi. (This mama is looney tunes.)
- The jalepeno lime chicken from last week. Meh.

On Friday

2011-01-28T11:54:00.000-08:00

Today....
Abi and I built a fort in the livingroom.
We also took a walk to look at our neighbors chickens.
I made pumpkin bread with the pumpkin from our garden.
I nursed the babe,
and gave her a bath.
I did one load of laundry.
Abi is wearing tights with a heart on the booty.
I held Abi up to the mirror so she could see.
I made lunch; chicken nuggets for Abigail,
roasted sweet potatoes and salad for me.

Happy Friday!

An apology of sorts

2011-01-24T13:44:00.000-08:00

Last night at 3 a.m. I decided today was going to be unbearable. Abi, who never naps, now wakes up multiple times a night. I would never believe our two year old would the one waking us up at night rather than our infant. Abi even wakes Gwen up when she barges into our bedroom to let us know she needs a book at 3 a.m. Blake and I take turns tucking her back into bed. We grumble to each other with one eye open. Remarks are made about not being sure if there is coffee. "Did we pick that up at the store?" No one remembers.

But then Gwen slept late, like she prefers to do, and Abi and I had a leisurely breakfast. Coffee? Indeed. Blake left me some in travel mug before slipping out. We pulled ourselves together and headed to the co-op where we ran into good friends. Abi played and Gwenyth slept and our walk home was refreshing and lovely. The sun came out and later today I'll head to a good friends birthday dinner. I'll try leaving the babes with Blake and might get a chance to enjoy two solid hours of uninterrupted adult conversation.

And tonight when Abi wakes us up I'll escort her alone, allowing Blake to sleep. I'll grumble a bit and then snuggle up close to his warm skin. I'll tell him "thank you" for the night out and for going to work (third graders, yegads!) and for always making me coffee and leaving notes on the chalkboard (whispers of love) and for letting me vent about how hard it can be to stay home. It can be so damn hard. But what I want him to know, is that today at lunch Abi was able to make Gwen laugh, really squeal actually, and that I got to see it. It was so special to me and instantly I knew why his days are harder, longer, more labor intensive.

What a sweet sacrifice he's making. He'd change me places in a second. I can be such a ninny.

On Love and Light

2011-01-19T13:36:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I'll be walking with Gwenyth strapped to my torso and Abigail dancing, sprite-like, in front of me and I'll get nervous. I'll start worrying that the years are slipping by and you might think I'm not doing anything with my life. You, whoever you are, might think I'm uneducated. You might think I don't have any adventure left in these bones. I'm afraid of you thinking that I wasted all of these years walking the children through the neighborhood and now what. Where do I go from here (you'll think?)

Sometimes I want to tell you that I'm enjoying these years so much- that soon enough I'll be commuting on the bus with a latte and a heavy stack of papers. I hope you know that one day I will see you in South America and I might ride a motorcycle, but probably just a bus, and that I will still have my youth, packed up in a green knapsack. I'll show you how to put back a shot of tequila. I'll show you how I can eat with my hands and dance under foreign skies.

When I'm walking especially I think about all of the choices we make as Mothers and how none of them are easy. I love being here. It's where I feel I need to be- and yet, I worry that I'm fading. Maybe that's the ultimate gift we give our children; a little of our light. Maybe as they grow brighter and brighter I'll find the time to show you (me) just how big and vibrant I can be.

Dear Gwenyth

2011-01-18T09:16:00.000-08:00

Dear Gwenyth Claire,

Little one. My Gwennie. Sweet Gwen. You have been such a surprise. Such a an absolute gift. You sleep like an angel, allowing daddy and I to rest, only waking once or twice in the night. You put yourself to sleep. I watch you soft eyelashes flutter as you make your way toward dreams. You like to be held and snuggled. You like to stretch out by yourself to watch the others around you. You barely cry. You coo and smack and sometimes you blow bubbles. You eat quickly. You smile. If ever there were a perfect babe it is you. Your sister made us work, she still does, and we love her for it. But you are such a different little creature. You fill my day with so much happiness I feel I might burst from loving you. I don't know what I've done on this earth to deserve you.

Love,

Mama

This Young Mother

2011-01-14T13:01:00.000-08:00

Today we bundled up and headed out into the drizzle. We stopped by the bank and the post office and then we hit up the toy store. I was trying to walk briskly to avoid the eventual rain and Abi nearly had to run to keep up with me. There were at least two older women who stopped to watch us and who smiled warmly at me. Women my grandmother's age always love to see us coming. I think something about a young mother with two small children reminds them of their own motherhood, even though things are so much different today. Abi tripped briefly and we had to stop to examine the wet stain on her jeans. We discussed the sore spot and reasoned that a couple of yogurt covered raisins would definitely make it better as soon as we got home.

We had just crossed the street when the funeral procession began. Miles upon miles of police cars began flowing through the quiet streets of our neighborhood. A local police chief had been killed in the line of duty and his memorial service was today at the University. I'm not sure why but suddenly the air was completely without sound. I watched as my neighbors walked down the steps of their porches and began to salute the the dark hearse.

Once inside, Abi continued to watch the steady pulse of police lights from the window. We made sandwiches together and after lunch Abi practiced writing her name. The A and I both perfect. The B a little different every time. It was just a regular morning, but I couldn't shake the oddest sensation of having gone back in time.

The world, for a couple of hours at least, felt so simple, so unnervingly quiet. Like maybe we had all paused to breathe.

Letting Go

2011-01-12T10:48:00.000-08:00

This post is going to be about the fact that we are giving up our beloved lab, Maggie Mae today. I wish it could be more heartfelt, emotional or reflective, but when you reach the point that I am at, you really just want the dog to be happy(ier) and to have less dog hair to clean up. I don't mean to be cold (You think I'm cold don't you?) but the reality is this: we live in a condo, we now have two children who take up exponentially more time than we have to give, winter in Portland involves pouring rain nearly every day which doesn't fare well for the dog walking with an infant and toddler combination and finally, the stress associated with trying to get and keep children asleep while the dog is barking, running across the wood floor, drinking water loudly etc. is enough to induce early tachycardia.

Maybe I'm just trying to be blase because if I don't, I might start thinking about how we bought this very condo in the first place so that we could have a dog. Or the fact that we used to rush home from work so that we could see Maggie and take her running or to the park. We bought a lot of exorbitantly priced dog toys, we may have even brushed her teeth and rubbed oils into her soft skin. This dog was a precious part of our family and if we're not careful here- we might start feeling jagged around the edges when we think of giving her up.

She's going to a wonderful family with a lot of space and time for her. She'll be so much happier. Some things you can never foretell. People without children will not understand. They will think we are cruel perhaps and that is okay with me. Their scorn will serve as my penance. There is a part of me that is secretly rejoicing at the thought of a truly clean home, full of a new sort of quiet and the absence of dog related guilt. And yet there is a part of me too that will lie on the floor tonight where her bed used to be. A part of me will crumple in a ball feeling the now welcome quiet, sort of lonely in retrospect and I will think that I have been too many things to too many people. And none of them were enough for her.

Farewell old friend~

And So We Grow and Grow

2011-01-10T12:19:00.000-08:00

Newly married

There are things that happen in a marriage once a new baby arrives. There is not so much a distancing but rather a pocket, a gap or space that opens up in order for the baby to fit in. We lie around our child, nestling her like a tight bud, ourselves the heavy petals, our feet the sturdy stem. There is so little time. For oneself. For each other. There is something so tender in the sacrifice, a coming together of sorts. The smallest gestures become gifts. The lightest touch, erotic. Folding ones laundry or preparing a cup of tea for the other is an act of love. And then slowly the child becomes stronger, the demands lessen a bit, and the distance dissolves. Shared minutes melt into hours, the entire evening perhaps.

There is so much beauty in coming down the mountain together.

A Grand New Year

2011-01-06T13:07:00.000-08:00

Three months into new motherhood is about the time when I start feeling all used up. I've been a little tired, a bit under the weather, jet lagged etc. and most likely those are the main culprits, and yet, three months, today exactly, and I find myself wondering if I'll ever surface again. For me, the first six months with a new baby are really hard, and it's the time period between 3 mo. and 6 mo. that is the hardest. Thankfully, I've been here before and I know that soon enough I'll be toting the girls around to the Rose Garden and zoo and I'll have completely forgotten what it was like to be so tied down. It's amazing to think that I too will one day feel well rested. I'll be able to meet my girlfriends for a drink downtown without rushing home. Soon enough Blake and I will wrangle some poor, unsuspecting friend of ours into babysitting, free of charge no less, so that we can eat in peace, together, without interruption. I'll wear heels. It will be well deserved.

Right now though my task is this: savor it all. This is our last baby. These days are fading faster than I can recount. This year is only one of a small handful in which I will be here with my girls full time. I better slow down and enjoy the view because as my husband reminded me last night, one day we'll be sitting at the table eating dinner all alone. The girls will be off living their lives and we'll long so much for their company, the busyness of it all.

My goals for 2011: live in the present, savor my children, strive to be better (wife, mother, communicator, chef, you name it.)

A Montana Girl in Virginia

2010-12-26T09:31:00.000-08:00

Yesterday. Christmas day. The snow started lightly and grew into something more substantial. Oh Snowy Virigina. Lots of babies. Smoked turkey too. There are sounds that envelope me, things like little feet and the crackling of fire. Be still my heart.

Tired After All

2010-12-17T12:37:00.000-08:00

After several books, multiple escorts back to bed, various stuffed animals and pleas for water, kisses, and doll blankets- After tears and kicking, whining and adamant "I'm not tired's!" After giving in and setting up the crayons and the coloring book, after sitting down to nurse Gwenyth on the couch. After five minutes. Asleep at the table. I like that she still has a crayon in her hand and a defiant purse to her lips.

God I love her.

Item 12- Write a Blog Post

2010-12-14T13:13:00.000-08:00

I've been crazy making lists around here lately. We're headed to Virginia for the holidays and there is so much to think about when traveling with a toddler and an infant. There is also the added stress of trying to make sure all gifts fit into our checked bags, and then wondering if they will be unwrapped by security. Coincidentally, while we are away, my parents will be flying to Portland to spend some time with my brother. They are staying at our place which is wonderful because they can dog sit and my mom is the type who will probably leave my house spotlessly clean, which is hasn't been in some time. So in addition to my gift list, packing list and general "to do" list, I am now also working on lists for my parents. Things like how to use the television, how much food to feed the dog, where to find such a such etc. I love making lists. This behavior drives my husband insane. Here's a nice example of one of several lists I currently have going- this one falls under the miscellaneous to do category- I noticed recently that Blake had added an additional item in red ink. Oh to be a man and never have to worry about baby hats and sippy cups. HA!

1. Gifts for X and Y
2. Buy a teether for Gwen
3. Plane stuff for Abi
4. Need travel wipes
5. Fruit snacks
6. Hand sanitizer
7. Send PC letter
8. Cancel dental appointments
9. Chill Pill

A Letter for Abi

2010-12-09T12:31:00.000-08:00

Dear Abigail Greta,

You are such a good big sister. Today when you were playing with the cow puppet and making Gwenyth laugh, I wanted to scoop you up and tell you that you are such a little goose and I love you. I like it when you say things like, "I just cracked myself up", or "Not cool Maggie Mae" to the dog. I like it when we snuggle on the couch and you brush my hair. You are almost painfully soft- so gentle I can hear your breathing.

I have such plans for us. The theatre, the art museum, lunch at Pazzo's. When you are big, or maybe just bigger, we'll sneak away on Saturday afternoons for hot cocoa at Pix and then we'll ride the MAX to Powell's so that we can each buy a book. We'll pick one up for Gwen too and then sit outside somewhere warm where we can people watch, or read. I'll take you to Anthropologie and buy you your first pair of pierced earrings, the smallest studs, yellow roses perhaps.

You are growing up and becoming something of a little lady. You are silly. You are two. You are really a bit of a handful. But sometimes I creep around the corner slowly and I see you there- crouched lightly over your sister, whispering gently in her ear and I see your patience and kindness, your bright little eyes, and warm smile. I see the girl you will soon become.

Love,

Mama

Friendship

2010-12-08T14:18:00.000-08:00

I used to think it was just a cliche that mother's made friends with other mother's at the park. Actually though, most of my other mom friends are people who I met while playing with Abi at the park. I have a new friend who I met last summer when we were both pregnant and chasing toddlers through the city fountain. As it turned out we both had June toddlers and October babies. We try to get together at least once a week to let the toddlers run free while we are content to carry around the little girls in their Moby wraps. Today we ate broccoli cheese soup while doing so, balancing our bowls above the babies heads. The older kids tore my house apart and I didn't really care. It means a lot to have friends who are at the same place in life that you are. I don't want all of my friends to be that way, but it's nice to have some. It's my friends without kids who remind me to take care of myself, and to have fun and be creative, artistic and passionate. It's my friends with older children who remind me where we're headed, the years of restful nights, fun excursions with the children, and enough money to do so. And too, it's my friends with small children, and babies as well, who remind me- I'm not alone.

I'm so thankful for all of the beautiful women in my life.

Tuesday in December

2010-12-07T12:54:00.000-08:00

Today I am feeling much better. Maybe it's because my husband reminded me that this is sometimes how I felt last time too and that it's normal. That first year with a baby is so many things. It's mostly love, love, love and sleepy evenings spent inside drinking tea and lots of laughter and wonder. It can also feel really repressive though too, and sort of isolating. Thankfully we are headed to Virginia for the holidays where we can rest and recharge in the comfort of family.

Also, can I tell you what makes my day? It's listening to Abi play alone in her bedroom. There is a mother owl and a baby owl and Abi flys them through the room. They take naps and eat dinner. They share conversations that go exactly like the ones Abi and I have. The little owl goes to time out. The mother owl gives lots of hugs and kisses. Abi chirps merrily, creating one social situation after another and from out on the couch, nursing Gwenyth of course, I smile and I strain my ears and I love her more than I thought possible.

On Being Real

2010-12-06T14:43:00.001-08:00

I was picking up crayons off the floor when I felt it. The girls were both sleeping and it was that time in the middle of an afternoon when the sun feels sort of lonely. The things that went through my mind were not actual instances, or times and places. It was more a feeling that made me pause and notice a crayon I hadn’t remembered seeing before, orchid- the strangest purple. All at once I felt detached. I felt like someone who didn’t have anywhere exiting to go, and no one comforting to come over- like a person with nothing beautiful to wear. I sat down on the floor and two words came to mind. Postpartum depression. I brushed it away, knowing I would feel differently in a few hours, tomorrow at least. But the inkling was there. Like something I couldn’t brush off. I’d have to work for it. Even in winter, I’d have to chase the sun.

For the Week

2010-12-06T12:49:00.000-08:00

The weekly menu. I just realized it's either feast or famine around here. I like to try out new recipes from Bon Apetit on the weekends, while weekdays are reserved for an array of Trader Joe's frozen meals, take out and old standby's.

And here's a little bit for you- today while in line at the very busy post office, just as I'm noticing that Abigail has dried, neon, Play Doh stuck to the seat of her pants, she holds out her hand to reveal a huge, snotty booger. Startled at first, I ask her what it is in her hand. She proudly holds out the glob for the entire line of crabby, Post Office, holiday mailers to see and exclaims loudly, "It's a booger! Right here in my hand." I smile blandly and then proceed to pull the hat right off the top of her head and scoop up the soggy offender. Because what am I if not super laid back about laundry these days?

Happy Monday!

On a good Day

2010-12-03T12:29:00.000-08:00

Gwenyth had her two month vaccinations today. I didn't cry as I thought I might, as I always did with Abigail. I stood there today a touch braver than I was two years ago. Later when it was over I held her to my breast and clucked lovingly into her ear.

Today I was proud of myself and it really didn't have so much to do with the shots. It was the realization that I've become so much more confident as a mother. Being a mother, and mothering well, has allowed me to grow stronger as an individual outside of the home too. My skin is a little tougher, I'm so much less quick to judge and overall I'm a lot calmer. I think I'm good at this. My house gets messy, I lose my patience, and sometimes I neglect my friends, my spouse and myself. But at the end of the day- I usually feel pretty successful and if not that (because I don't always), I feel content.

I can't wait to see what career choices await me, the places we'll travel, the home we'll one day buy. Right now though, I can't wait to see what Abi Greta thinks about going to the library after nap time.

Winter Welcome

2010-12-01T13:49:00.000-08:00

After canceling our plans for the day we made Christmas cookies. We cancelled our plans because the girls seemed content to stay in, and I felt a great need to do something fun for Abigail. She needed a little extra attention, something sweet to dip her fingers in, and the chance to talk about all of the things occupying her little mind. Things like fairies and sharks.

Now there is laundry to do, and still I wait for other distractions.

I'm feeling more like myself lately. Maybe you didn't know, but I've been cloudy the past few weeks. It's takes awhile to put yourself back together after having a baby.

Thankfully my daughters have been patient. Children are such gentle teachers.

Turkey Lurkey

2010-11-28T13:14:00.000-08:00

There are two kinds of people when it comes to children- those who talk about the fact that their baby is so cute, chubby, fill in the blank that they could eat them, and those who think people like that are strange.

Obviously I fall into the first category. I talk about dousing Gwenyth Claire in gravy pretty much daily. She's lucky she made it through Thanksgiving unscathed.

Thank Full

2010-11-23T13:25:00.000-08:00

Today we were eating lunch when Abigail said to me "Thank you for making me dinner. You are the best mama." She said it loudly and there was lasagna smeared across her cheeks. I thanked her and told her how much I loved her. She continued to eat and we were silent for awhile. After awhile she looked down at her food and whispered quietly, "We're best friends." And then I died a little.

Meanwhile, Gwenyth was busy grinning at me. She has a big, full mouth smile. Her thighs are plump and her little fingers delicate. When she reaches out for my arm in the night, stroking it softly to assure herself that I am still there, I feel loved in the truest way. Sometimes I lie there in the blue light of dawn full like a teacup.

On Monday

2010-11-22T13:03:00.000-08:00

Today I am wearing "mom" jeans. I don't know why I own these. They are baggy in the butt, an ugly shade of denim and seem to accentuate my hips. I never used to dress this badly. I don't know what to do because on one hand they are so comfortable, yet on the other, they are marking my place in history as just another mom who dresses poorly and therefore obviously knows nothing about anything! (Or so my daughters will think.)

The last time my mother was here visiting I noticed she was sporting a pair of acid washed jeans one size to big and too short too boot. They were pretty intense (in a mom jean sort of way.) I guess that just proves the only thing worse than your own pair of mom jeans is your mothers.

I think as soon as I stop eating enough Nutella to actually slim down, I'm going to buy myself a new pair of jeans. Because baby, I'm worth it.

2010-11-19T14:24:00.000-08:00

I have to admit, sometimes I don't like two year olds. I imagine that this age is a toughie for any mom, but for some reason, I feel like I fail at something nearly every day. I never used to feel like that. I used to be able to list off our collective successes at the end of each day and I was really proud of myself and of Abigail too. Nowadays it feels like I spend more time scolding Abi for poking Gwen, for pretending to trip on Gwen, for throwing my cell phone at my head, for refusing to put on pants, ("Please put your pants on, please put your pants on, PLEASEPUTYOURPANTSON!"than anything else. A firm command to head to time out elicits hysterical laughter. I try using a lot of choices which sometimes works but mostly just drives me batty. "You can choose to put your pants on, or you can choose to let me do it." Of course she would like me to do it and I am usually wearing Gwen in some sort of wrap and struggling ensues and Abi laughs and then Gwen starts crying and those damn pants are still laying on the floor.

She's mostly good. I love her to death. I really want to spank her, not because I think it would do anything productive but sometimes I just think it would feel so good. Is it wrong of me to say that? I don't believe in spanking though so I won't allow myself the pleasure. THE PLEASURE. I just might make her get into the car without pants though. (Except I wouldn't because she'd love that.)

You've just gotta love them though- they are all seriously like this. I watch other kids her age and practically guffaw at the sociopathy. These little people have got a lot going on at two. Thank goodness for bed time. Blake and I practically hiccup relief by the time Abi hits the sheets. Everyone seems to relax- the dog is finally free to sleep without one eye open, Gwen can snuggle in without fearing a tambourine in her face and Blake and I can have a serious conversation without accompanied hysterics in the background.

Anyway, wow that felt good. Thank you for letting me complain about and bemoan my beautiful, healthy, good natured, smart little girl. Petty rant over.

The First Storm

2010-11-17T14:32:00.000-08:00

There is so much beautiful rain outside today. It is beautiful because the hills are steeped in fog and the trees are still clinging to red leaves. It is lovely most of all because it makes staying in with the girls more enjoyable. I don't feel like I need to get out somewhere or do anything other than just be. We started the morning by making fresh loaves of focaccia bread. While the dough was rising we dug out an array of crafting supplies and I let Abi have at it at the kitchen table. She seriously played for an hour and half, just glueing and glittering. Gwen slept soundly in her Moby wrap and we listened to things like Iron and Wine.

The rain is pelting the windows. Maggie is sleeping softly on the couch, Gwen in her basket and Abi tucked deep into my bed. Tonight I'm making our favorite chicken soup with wild rice. These days, chapters really, might sound lackluster to some, but I think they are rich indeed.

Cat's Eye

2010-11-10T14:24:00.000-08:00

Today has been a really good day. It's because the sun is out, fiercely I might add, and this morning my friend Amanda came over with her son Darwin and they brought pumpkin bread. We took the kids to Swap N Play and there they sang and danced and shook tambourines as if their very lives depended on it. We walked home and I made lunch and Gwenyth snuggled and afterwards we read books on the couch and played with Abi's flash cards. My mom sent a package to the girls full of goodies. She also sent all kinds of Halloween candy which I always tell her not to do. I have already eaten nearly an entire bag of fun size M & M's. There is the fact that Abi is no longer napping, despite my attempts to bribe her with an evening filled with Tinkerbell, popcorn and fun size M & M's. But alas, she told me firmly, "No, mama, I don't want to take a nap!!"

But the sun is out, out, out, and Blake is off tomorrow and Gwen's thighs are getting so plump and Abi Greta, who never naps, now goes to bed at 7pm which means an entire toddler free evening, and somehow I'm not looney with exhaustion yet, and for the second and last time in my life I have boobs like a porn star and life is stressful but not really, because even though these chapters may be trying they are not burdensome or sluggish like other years I've known. My to do list today involves making one phone call and going to the store for olive oil.

Yes, today was a good day, one more precious marble in the jar.

25 on My Mind

2010-11-08T14:07:00.000-08:00

1. Today I fit back into my old jeans. (The fat ones, not the skinny ones.)
2. Abi Greta and I pained ceramic magnets at the kitchen table and listened to The Shins.
3. I just finished reading Breath, by Tim Winton.
4. I think I'll read To Kill a Mockingbird next because I can't remember it very well.
5. One of my post pregnancy goals is to run a half marathon.
6. I've been invited to join a book group. I'm wondering if I have time.
7. I need to enroll Abi in tumbling class.
8. Gwenyth only woke up once last night. (Which must have been a major fluke.)
9. No matter how hard I try, The Brothers Karamozov stays boring.
10. We have brussels sprouts in our very own garden.
11. Yesterday I ran a mile, which seems like an okay start.
12. I am loving the band Phoenix.
13. Right now Abi is fighting a nap and Gwenyth is snug as a bug in her moses basket.
14. I hope winter comes early.
15. This year Abi will ski! (or will she?)
16. Tonight on the menu is big salads. (Blake hates these.)
17. We are heading to Pete and Laura's for Thanksgiving.
18. I am in charge of the following items: mashed potatoes, cranberries, stuffing and apple pie.
19. When I was pregnant with Gwen I ate like 27 apple pies.
20. I'm trying to kick the sugar habit.
21. The one where I walk over to Safeway immediately following dinner and buy a Milky Way.
22. I need to get out on my bike.
23. Today has been a much better day for me as a mother. I'm ironing out the kinks.
24. Today has been a terrible day for me as a dog owner. No walk yet, perhaps when B gets home.
25. As it turns out, there is still time for blogging.

The Making of a mother

2010-11-06T14:55:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was my first day back at the my old job. It's a job I love and wouldn't trade for anything. Mother- that's my title. Man it was hard. We started out the day okay, except that both girls woke up at exactly the same time, which was just minutes after Blake had stepped out of the door. It wasn't much of a big deal except Gwen needed to nurse and Abigail really needed to pee and eat breakfast. At exactly the same time. I dictated orders from the couch instructing Abigail how to pull her own pants down.

After breakfast we headed to Swap N Play which is our neighborhood co-op. I've decided we'll go there every morning because it gives Abi a chance to hang out with other little people and it gives Gwen and I a chance to nurse and snuggle while chatting it up with other awesome, educated, stay home moms. The morning was a smashing success. We even walked to Swap N Play which was great. I was able to indulge in some much needed exercise and talk on the phone all while pushing Ab in the stroller and carrying Gwen in the Baby Bjorn. Go me.

My enthusiasm was perhaps a bit premature because as soon as we got home everything seemed to go astray. Gwen cried the whole time I made Abi's lunch. Abi didn't want lunch. Gwen did. Abi wanted attention and resorted to dramatics eventually falling off of a chair in the kitchen. Sobbing ensued. No one wanted to nap. Abi pooped in her pants after four months of nary a wet panty. Gwen spit up on my cashmere hoodie. My dad called to talk about my brother who isn't doing so well. Abi threw her crayons all over her bedroom. Abi accidentally tripped, falling over Gwen who was lying on the floor next to me. Sobbing ensued. First it was Gwen. Then it was Abi. Finally I gave in, crumpled over my crying children and wept myself. I was wearing the same soiled hoodie, hadn't showered in 24 hours and my house was a mess.

Blake came home shortly after that and suggested we go out for a couple of beers and some pizza. Instantly everyone was happy again. I put Abi to bed early and before turning out her light I lied on top of her with all of my weight and kissed her softly all over her face. I told her how much I loved her- so much I could eat her and I forgave her for being two. Maybe I forgave myself a little bit too.

Mondy is a new day, a new week even, and maybe in three months I'm going to be a pro at this, and even if I'm not, I'm still going to say to my husband over a beer, or big piece of greasy pizza, how much I love my job. (Even if it is proceeded by a hysterical rant.)

Ready Set

2010-11-03T21:37:00.000-07:00

Blake's paternity leave ends on Friday. All month I've been dreading the day he would leave me alone with the girls, fearing I wouldn't be enough for both of them.

Today we had a gem of a day. November. My father's birthday. Abi frolicked, Maggie fetched and Gwenyth felt her first breaths of sea air. I filled my lungs as well, memorizing the sun on Haystack Rock. As we walked back up the sand toward our car I said a quick word of thanks. For Blake. For two beautiful, healthy girls. For other things too, like blue skies, the color of leaves, the time to notice these things.

Halfway back to Portland it occurred to me that I'm ready. Let the good times roll.

The Leaves are only half gone

2010-11-02T14:02:00.000-07:00

Fall days in Oregon include muddy boots at the garden, pumpkin soup, and lots of Bob Dylan. Tomorrow we're packing up the ladies and heading out to the coast for what will most likely be the last good beach day of the season. Abigail has been hunting for mushrooms everywhere. The earth is salty with change.

This is how I roll

2010-10-28T20:30:00.000-07:00

I decided I wasn't willing to give up family dinner at the table this time around.

Happy shopping helper.

"Hey mom, is it okay if I put stickers on baby Gwen?" "Yeah, it's okay, just try and keep them off her face."

Sleep deprived chess session during nap time. It was a nail biter.

"Omigod, I just found a stink bug!!!"

"I'm so tired."

"Me too."

"You get up first."

"No you get up first."

"C'mon! Somebody throw SOMETHING!"

If Love were a place

2010-10-26T13:02:00.000-07:00

For some reason I've been consumed by thoughts of Hawaii all day. I'm not even sure that it's the blustery, wetness of the day that has me longing for the islands, but rather the simple fact that it is my favorite place on earth. This always surprises people since I lived in Fiji for some time and one might assume the South Pacific would fare grander in my memory than just plain, old Hawaii, but truly, there is no place I'd rather be. Blake and I talk about the day we can finally plan a vacation there with the kids so often it's become a bit of joke. We'd move there, but then we'd have an even harder time seeing family than we do already.

I've spent a good amount of time in Hawaii, one trip to Kauai during grad school, an extended stay to have my tonsils out during Peace Corps, back again with Blake for our wedding reception, and finally a quick weekend getaway once we moved to Portland. When I was there having my tonsils out I was staying alone in a the hospital hotel for nearly two months. It was just this time of year and I was lonely and desperately in love and had been provided with more per diem that I knew what to do with. I'd go to the library every morning to return books and check out new ones. I'd wait patiently for the city bus and make my way to the beach where I'd read and swim. Some days I'd eat gooey cinnamon rolls from the hole in the wall bakery just downtown and then catch a late afternoon movie. I bought red sheets to take back with me to Fiji, and a bongo drum for Blake. It was such a weird time being stuck in paradise alone but one that I will always cherish.

Anyway, today I'm looking back on that time especially and really missing the intensity of the tropical storms that would invade the night. We don't get dramatic storms in the Pac NW, it mostly seems to rain in a steady, quiet way. I was thinking about how I'd call Blake late at night, ringing up hundreds of dollars on my parents phone card and how we'd talk about having kids and bringing them to Hawaii and Fiji one day. We talked about everything, even moving to Portland, and how we'd name our dog Kiuva.

By Thanksgiving I was back in Fiji and more in love than ever. Maybe when you're falling in love you also associate that feeling with a place. Bury me on a beach. My heart beats with the tide.

Sweet Surrender

2010-10-23T20:59:00.000-07:00

These days ahead of me, a few behind, are utilitarian. I don’t mind. I like the structure and the tangible benchmarks. Some days I remember wearing a wool miniskirt to work and running through the rain to meet my husband for drinks. I remember going to yoga and shopping downtown and riding my bike with 20 bucks in my back pocket. These mornings are more generous- less glamorous.

Soon enough I’ll look back on these years too. What will they feel like in retrospect?

Dinner with the Robertsons

2010-10-22T20:19:00.000-07:00

I can't find the time to write anything decent lately. Maybe it's because we just had dinner guests and now there is an insurmountable amount of dishes/thai food to tidy up and during dinner Abi started crying really, really loudly and exclaiming that her tummy hurt and then she started puking. What ensued was a lot of running to the store for crackers and tylenol, mopping up of the hallway floor, juggling kids because Abi only wanted me to help her, yet Gwen needed to eat. It was crazy, but sitting here 30 minutes later I feel like Blake and I just passed some sort of parental initiation. One sick child, no problem. One sick child plus dinner guests, and a sobbing, hungry infant is a bit more overwhelming. However, Abi is now bathed and in bed, Gwen, now sated, is snuggling in her daddy's lap, and I am about to find a nice glass of wine.

I love all of this so much though. I love being a mother. It is the most challenging thing I have ever taken on. These little girls make life so dynamic and joy filled. What a lucky duck I am.

Snippets of Life

2010-10-20T14:14:00.000-07:00

This picture makes me feel happy inside. Abi has just mastered the art of coasting down a hill on her bike and it's like she's never felt so free in her whole life.

This morning Gwen had a doctor's appointment at 9am. Getting everyone ready and out of the house by 8:30 was quite the feat. Blake and I barely brushed our teeth before leaving and we both seemed to notice our hair as we were pulling into traffic. Blake kept trying to push his down unsuccessfully while I tried several attempts to fluff mine up. The appointment went well but as we trudged downstairs to get our flu shots carrying no less than an infant, toddler, car seat, diaper bag and annoying stack of paperwork in tow, we realized we were a bit of a mess. I balanced Gwen on my shoulder while filling out the vaccination forms, Blake chased Abi, while muling around the rest of the baggage we'd brought. We both kept dropping things, and fumbling with our wallets. I learned a few things, number one being why anyone would carry that dang car seat anywhere other than the car is beyond me. Next time I'm using the sling.

Tonight we're meeting my parents at the Edgefield for dinner. I'm feeling pretty good about the fact that it's 75 degrees outside and I've finally showered and somehow vacuumed.

This morning Abigail and I woke up so that Blake and Gwen could sleep and we snuggled on the couch and watched Sesame Street. She kept saying, "Oh mama, I love you." And I was so tired, but so glad that I had chosen to wake up.

Maggie has been on a mini vacation, staying several nights at her friend, Barolo's house. I can't believe how much food I'm cleaning up off the floor since she's been gone. Right now there are six of Abi's plastic balls in her water bowl. There is also substantially less dog hair. We miss her.

So this is it

2010-10-17T19:01:00.000-07:00

I have to admit, I have no idea how to leave the house with both kids without my husband. It takes a lot longer to get everyone dressed, fed, "please go pee pee or we're not leaving", shoes on, nursed, diapered, and buckled in than I thought possible. It's all a bit overwhelming at first but fortunately I think I'm getting the hang of most things. I'm slacking off a little on Abi's TV consumption, allowing Shark Tale three consecutive evenings in a row, and Gwen has only had two baths total since she's been home, but you know what? There is a moment once every day where my eyes gloss over the piles of laundry that never end and the crumbs underneath the kitchen table and I see Abigail reading books to her babies, and Blake is actually taking a moment to breathe with coffee in hand, and Gwenyth Claire, well she's sleeping peacefully in her moses's basket after a hefty feeding and I think. "I'm nailing this." And as long as I have one moment like that every day I know things will be fine.

(Except when Blake's paternity leave ends and then I am going to freak out. But we'll leave that for later days. )

Still Life

2010-10-14T13:44:00.000-07:00

The first week we ate spaghetti with italian sausage, apple pie, gorgonzola mac and cheese and New York style cheesecake. Gwen slept in between us at night like a baby raccoon and in the early hours of morning Abi Greta emerged at the foot of our bed. We stayed in but still went out- to the park, or the garden, walks down the sunny avenue and trips to our coffee spot for cocoa and spiced cider. Gwen napped in my lap and Abi threw herself on my chest, seeking attention like a habit. Late night diapers, late night cheesecake, late night singing and tucking back in, this time with water. Afternoon leaves scattered across the living room floor, sandy galoshes in the backyard, honeyed fingertips across my dishwasher. In the quiet of night it was just Gwen and I, both finally relieved to be alone together. For in those moments I could breathe her in as long as I wanted without distraction. The first week we started sketching, in pencil, our new routine, new lives even, the profiles of our daughter's faces and the autumn stillness, like the bowl of pears on the counter, my husband's running shoes or the sun colliding with fog just over the bridge. The first week- a still life.

Love, Love, Love

2010-10-08T14:11:00.000-07:00

Our Gwenyth Claire was born right on her due date, October 6th at 6:10pm. She weighed 8 lbs 2oz. We got to the hospital at 3 p.m. and delivered three hours later. It was a really quick labor. I can't wait to write it all down soon but for now we are all snuggled in resting. My wonderful mother is here baking chickens and doing laundry. Abigail is perfectly thrilled and whines incessantly to hold the baby. Blake is amazing and is doing a superb job of keeping Abi entertained, me comfortable and near full glasses of water, and Maggie exercised. We are, without hesitation, more happy than we're ever been before. Thank you so much for all of the kind thoughts, notes and words of encouragement!

October 6th

2010-10-06T09:59:00.000-07:00

Today... is my due date.
Blake is starting his paternity leave.
I made coffee cake.
We took a long morning walk with Abi on her bike, Blake and I carrying mugs of coffee. The sun was out.
The sun is still out.
I have been having mild, irregular contractions.
We've been reading a lot of books, even the ones I hate reading like "The Little Mermaid" and "Are You My Mother?"
Blake taught Abi how to find her shadow.
Our hospital bags are already in the car.
I'm waiting patiently, hoping not to rush anything and just enjoy our time together as a family of three.
I am wearing yoga pants.
We will picnic outside for lunch on the giant handmade quilt we bought for $30 in India, and see what happens.

Notes to Remember

2010-10-01T15:23:00.000-07:00

I haven't been very good about writing lately. I've been so busy just waiting for this baby to arrive. There have been baby hats and socks to fold and inspect and refold again. I've been alternating between walking hastily, willing this to happen now, soon, tomorrow at least, and then sitting with my feet up, soaking up Abigail and our private afternoons that we haven't had to share just yet. I'm also a little scared and that's kept me quieter, both outwardly and in. There is something to be said for knowing what you're in for. In some respects I miss the mystique about the while birthing process that accompanied everything last time. It was all good fun, I bragged about my desire for a natural birth, and as I packed the hospital bag full of Enya and lavender oil, I felt flushed with excitement and almost cocky. The experience was harrowing as only a mother knows, and there were moments, for me, of real fear, searing pain, and near desperation for something to relieve it. Of course every second of those long hours was worth it, and in all honestly, I don't really remember just how painful or scary it was, but a quiver still lingers beneath my knee. I remember afterwards how foolish I felt about the Enya and birth art I'd packed. Going into labor is hard work and this time I've prepared for those hungry hours with a bit of honesty, some stretching and walking, and a redefined sense of courage.

I've also been thinking a lot about how I never (outside of some loose journaling) captured the moments that really stood out during Abigail's birth- and there were so many. And so as a celebration of her birth, and also of what is soon to come, I'm including a short list of things I hope never to forget about June 8, 2008, a mere two years and four months ago.

1. I was in labor from Thursday evening until early Sunday morning. Things were not intense until the last 12 hours or so, and so Blake and I ate out at restaurants and strolled the promenade downtown. I remember stopping my meal to feel a contraction while fellow diners watched curiously. Our server brought us ten times the normal amount of after-dinner mints and we sucked on them while walking hand and hand in the drizzling rain.

2. We drove to the hospital really, really fast, even though there was really no huge rush, and Blake exclaimed excitedly how this was the only time in his life he could justify driving like Mario Andretti on the freeway. We were excited and it was black night because I can remember seeing stars from the road.

3. At the hospital, once in the birthing room and after a scary couple of hours involving numerous blown veins, constant shaking that wouldn't cease and a very welcome epidural, we noticed a set of deer outside our hospital room window. It was a mother and her fawn and we almost couldn't believe it. They stayed there for longer than seemed normal, and comforted us in a very real way.

4. The pushing lasted over two hours and for brief periods of time I would watch my progress in the mirror, I felt Abi's soft head as she crowned and when she was finally out I remember thinking she was so slippery like a little fish. I tried to pull her up my stomach but the umbilical cord held her down and so I grasped at her with new hands and waited.

5. Nursing was the most magical feeling, and they allowed me to do so before even cleaning her off or wrapping her in a blanket. Our sweet nurse tied us both up in a warm blanket together and Blake watched lovingly close by. He called my parents and his. Later he helped to give her her first bath right there in our room while I ate french toast and bacon.

6. We all slept together in the hospital bed, Abi tucked between our chins and the nurses on duty smiled at us warmly. I loved that they didn't insist on Blake moving. We didn't sleep well because we were too excited and every couple of hours when Abigail would cry to eat, in that newborn goat cry, we'd smile at each other and exclaim how beautiful she was, what a good eater, how pink and warm she was.

7. And finally, home again that first morning, and Blake making eggs and bacon with the Flaming Lips playing in the background. I danced around the house with Abi in the sling and she slept so soundly. We patted ourselves on the back for having such a good sleeper, a baby who didn't wake because of music or voices, and when she continued to nap through breakfast we toasted with fresh OJ and ate slowly and happily.

That was the last meal we enjoyed together at the table for months, Abi never did sleep through the night much before a year, and that music, it really pissed her off and woke her up most of the time, but for that moment we still didn't know what was to come. We were so new and bright eyed and I love us for that. I also love knowing what to expect this time around.

I think I'll savor that first breakfast home even more this time.

Our First of the sort

2010-09-27T14:03:00.000-07:00

This morning, a tea party.

Abi Greta after a bit of sprucing up. (Because ladies, and stuffed animals, wear jewelry to tea.)

I was reminded of mornings spent with my own mother, drinking tea out of an old china set. My mother always had lace napkins and even though they aren't my style, I found myself wishing I had some for this occasion.

On the menu: Banana nut muffins, strawberries and cocoa of course (per Abi's request.)

I remember picking raspberries from our backyard to eat at our tea parties, my mother gently scolding me for rubbing the bright juice on my dress.

Abigail Greta spilled cocoa all over hers. But I was expecting that.

A post for you, who sometimes thinks my blog is boring

2010-09-23T12:56:00.000-07:00

It's been a funny morning at our house. There are contractors swarming the building because we're having our condos painted and before they can paint they must scrape and sand and do other loud things. Blake took the car today because it's pouring, and did I mention that my raincoat no longer fits? Maggie is hysterical. Every time the electric saw starts up she moans and barks, more like a bear than a dog. I'm not sure where to hide since they are in the back yard too, it seems our bathroom is the only room in the house without a strange man in the window.

We've been keeping busy with a slew of arts and crafts, magnetic paper dolls, piles of books and the usual dog/chase/pet/squeal scenario. Since we obviously won't be napping today, I'm trying to think of something low key for the afternoon. Perhaps we'll make a fort, throw all of the stuffed animals inside and call it a pet hospital. Abi will need to attend to all of her patients, complete with foam cut out dog bones etc. and mommy will nap in the fort with the animals (because a nurse should really be in attendance at all times.) Perfect.

It's kind of a dreary, weird day, but sometimes I really dig those. It gives me a chance to organize underneath the bed and pluck my eyebrows.

These years in review

2010-09-22T14:45:00.000-07:00

Two Septembers ago I remember walking.
There are whole stretches of time I can't recall over the last couple of years, but September was such a sudden month I will never forget my first as a mother. I walked everywhere, discovering the neighborhood like I hadn't before. I took alleyways and shady avenues, and sometimes I walked so long, and hard that I'd end up farther away than I'd planned and the sky would be wet.

It seems autumn gets lovelier every year. I fall in love with spices and apples as if we've never met. My bones feel older too, but in a wise way. My fingers are so sure these days and my shoulders are strong. I think I might be settling in somehow- in my current role, my daily schedule, perhaps most strikingly, my own skin.

I think I'm letting go of a lot of fear about who I should be and what I should be doing. As it turns out, life has taught me more in these last two and a half years than I thought capable. I'm not saying that I've figured out myself and everything else too. There are too many long years ahead of me to whittle down, full of lessons and musty, hard cover books. I've got so much time still. And yet, here we are again in September, so many things the same; and also so many different pleasures to pick.

Each year life seems to get a little richer, the days somehow more significant. My shelves are lined with my daughter's funny phrases and her collection of smiles. There is a renewed confidence pulsing through my neck, and it whispers to me in the earliest hours of dawn- there you are, tread gently, your are succeeding.

In Which I complain

2010-09-20T12:31:00.000-07:00

I've been wondering when this day would come. The extreme loss of breath, back pain, Braxton Hicks contractions, and overall fatigue has finally set in, and unfortunately, that means I'm a bit of a mess. I've become that woman, lying on the couch at 9:30 am with my child nestled around me watching PBS. My kitchen is reminiscent of my less austere college days, when dishes on the counter were not just an exception. I'm bra less, barefoot, crabby, pretty tired, and really in no mood for vacuuming. Or making dinner. Or basically doing anything that doesn't involve pillows.

After wallowing through the morning hours I decided Abi and I desperately needed to get out of the house. We headed over to Posie's Cafe for music hour with Mr. Ben. Of course it was beyond crowded so we had to sit on the floor but Abigail had so much fun singing and dancing to the music. I lasted a half an hour after which I found myself on the sidewalk with a screaming child, "More music!! Please!!!" I felt really bad that we had to go, but frankly I had to go, and there was so way to avoid the crowd cemented outside of the bathroom.

I think after nap time I'll feel better, and even if I don't it's okay because I can now literally start counting the days until our Gwenyth is here. I'd also like to give a shout out to my husband who will most likely be doing the dishes tonight. Thanks in advance B funk! And thanks to the little girl who knows just how to snuggle, and play quietly next to me without causing much fuss. She seems to have picked up on my lethargy and has been more sweet and tender than I've ever known.

And that concludes my one and only whiny, pregnancy post. (I promise.)

Postcards from the Weekend

2010-09-19T18:34:00.000-07:00

Two more weeks?

A Quiet post with nary a plot

2010-09-15T14:47:00.000-07:00

Abigail has reached the age where she likes to wear leotards and tutus much of the time. She's also choosing not to take a nap everyday, and on those days she likes to throw blueberries on the floor and stomp on them too. Other days she plays with her animals quietly on the windowsill. I hear snippets of conversations between them in her soft, raspy voice.

Abi Greta likes to eat tomatoes, and edamame, and yogurt covered raisins. She likes to give kisses, and sometimes she reads books to her dolls, and every so often I catch her saying something I've repeated.

I was so tired last night when Blake got home that he took Abigail to the garden for an hour to give me a minute to myself. He left her in her leotard and didn't make her put on socks with her boots. While they were gone I cracked open a new book and put my feet up, but it wasn't long before I was looking out the window for them. I kept thinking, three more weeks and I'll have another baby. It made me anxious and sweaty and then I couldn't read.

But then Blake came home and made dinner for us all. We went out for ice cream and afterwards the three of us piled onto the couch together. Blake picked up the new issue of TIME, I resumed my book and Abi Greta opened up Mother Goose, almost as if she were picking up where she left off. We stayed that way for the half of an hour.

Abigail's favorite part of the day is when we are all home. Sometimes after we tuck her in bed with a cup of water and her stuffed lady bug, Blake and I will watch movies in bed on the laptop. We particularly like old episodes of Curb Your Enthusiasm- we stifle our laughter so we won't wake our child, my head propped up on his chest.

There are so many days. So many things, hours, little faces to love. There are so many smashed blueberries in my afternoons.

So many kisses, and ripe tomatoes too.

I know this much is true

2010-09-12T14:56:00.000-07:00

Just to be fair I decided to make a list of things I want our daughters to know, or better yet, some things they may actually learn just by being my children. I want to be clear that I am purposely leaving out the negative things I may inadvertently teach them; things like being picky about meat, my tendency to be critical of myself and others, my disdain for chores involving dishes, you know, things like that.

The following is a list of things (mostly good) our girls will learn from having me as their mother.

1. Make sure to first live alone before getting married. (Living with roommates doesn't count.)
2. How to make truly delicious Indian food.
3. Every young woman should own a well fitting little black dress, one pair of expensive high heels, and a tube of red lipstick. They will come in handy on more than several occasions.
4. The secret to a happy marriage is recognizing when your husband unloads the dishwasher, or folds the bath towels or even cleans out the trunk of the car. Tell him you appreciate it, and him, and mean it when you do.
5. Never feel badly about splurging on things like bras or really good cheese.
6. If you ask me to buy you a book, no matter how old you are, I will never refuse.
7. Travel. Don't just follow the tourists though, find a way to really know a place that is foreign to you.
8. The words to every Christmas song ever written (including verses 3 and 4.)
9. The dog is worth the dog hair.
10. When it comes to love, put all of your chips on the table. You'll either end up happy for the rest of your life, or full of valuable, indispensable wisdom.
11. How to appreciate a really good slice of cheesecake.
12. One of life's greatest pleasures is spontaneity.
13. How to start a campfire, catch a fish and build a raft.
14. Don't waste time doing something that you don't love.
15. How to cross country ski.
16. The secret to a really good friendship is truly caring about the other person and making the decision not to compare yourself or compete with each other.
17. Always tell the truth. Always.
18. Tell your children that you love them and are proud of them often. Even if what they are talking about seems trivial, really listen to what they are saying.
19. Milkshakes count as a full serving of calcium.
20. Less is more. Keep life simple and uncomplicated and enjoy every morsel along the way.

Father to Daughters

2010-09-10T12:46:00.000-07:00

My sister in law, Meredith, recently wrote the best blog post on what her children will learn from their father. She's a writer so all of her blog posts are perfectly thought out, well written and funny. I decided I liked her idea so much that I'm stealing it. I've never had a sister but I'm pretty sure that's what you get to do- steal things like clothes, books, and every once in a while a really good idea. (Thanks Mer, I have these really cool earrings you can borrow at Christmas. :)

The following is a list of things our girls will learn, or have already learned from their father.

1. How to ride a bike, and not just ride, but how to ride in a city like all the cool hipster girls do.
2. Your father will always think that your mother is most beautiful without any makeup, and he'll think that you are most beautiful without any too.
3. How to tend a garden. He'll show you when to plant, how to sow, and make sure you are experiencing real joy along the way.
4. The secret to the perfect meatball, his mother's recipe.
5. Texting is silly, and unnecessary.
6. You should never use any deodorant that isn't all natural.
7. Your father will show you how to be a peacemaker, how to avoid conflict and still stay true to yourself.
8. Soccer isn't just for boys.
9. Girls can play guitars, and you will, because he'll teach you how.
10. How to spend your money wisely on things like travel, and music.
11. How to appreciate a good beer, and maybe even how to make one.
12. How to thread a sewing machine, run a kiln, and make a mean friendship bracelet.
13. Your father will show you that's it's okay to cry, to make mistakes and to ask for help.
14. He'll encourage you not to be materialistic. He'll show you how to find pants from Banana Republic at GoodWill.
15. He'll sacrifice his own needs for your yours, knowing you are young women who need things that he doesn't as a man. He'll rearrange the budget so that you can have something beautiful to wear. He'll put money in your pockets for earrings from the street fair and he'll tell you how beautiful you look in them.
16. The tricks to really scrubbing a bathroom.
17. The importance of dark chocolate, and the self control to eat only a square, following every evening meal.
18. It's okay to get dirty, to take chances, to touch slugs and even worms.
19. Never read tabloid magazines.
20. How to drink espresso. Never milk or sugar.
21. He'll show you how to avoid arguing with the ones you love. He'll teach you humility and forgiveness and how to diffuse any situation with humor.
22. If you can help it, never eat anything with red dye #40.
23. Tell your family that you love them, and often. Write notes to your spouse every morning.
24. Even if the kitchen is a mess, and there are papers to grade, stop what you are doing and play with your children.
25. The secret to real happiness is family. Animals in your life. A secure self concept and good bike (this he'll assure you shouldn't skimp on.)

As it should be

2010-09-08T13:04:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was back to school for Blake and in true Portland fashion it rained nearly non-stop all day. At about 2:30 p.m. Abi and I decided we needed some fresh air and so I bundled up the snail in her favorite slicker/boots combo and pulled out a pair of Crocs for myself. I draped my raincoat over my shoulders, as it no longer fits around my belly, and we set out for some puddle stomping. It was warmish out and raining so hard that after 10 minutes it looked as if I had just stepped out of the shower. My t-shirt was sopping, pants totally soaked and it felt amazing. We stayed outside nearly an hour, running through sludgy gutters and catching raindrops on our tongues. We saw a few other people out walking dogs and even riding bikes. I felt like after all this time, maybe I'm finally coming around to the weather.

Later, we peeled off our skins in the doorway and started dinner with fresh, wet hair. I made chicken soup with wild rice and my grandmother's white rolls. Blake came home smelling of tempera paint and chalk dust, his glasses dangling haphazardly out of his breast pocket and everything felt good and familiar and as it should be. I love our spontaneous, schedule free, wet swim suits in the bottom of the diaper bag summers so very much. They always come just when we need them, a break of sorts from our familiar rigamarole, and yet, fall, always feels like coming home. Abi works her way back into some sort of daily sleep routine, I have time to organize the house, teach Abigail something new, make a healthy dinner and once again take stock of the weather.

Our summer fling has ended, and man, was it good. But now fall is sneaking back again, like the love of my life- intimacy and spiced cider, long colorful walks like familiar kisses, and somehow surprises too, like delicious pumpkin curry, or finding your heart skip a beat at the turn of the door knob- the sight of Mr. Robertson coming home for dinner.

In Preparation

2010-09-06T13:48:00.000-07:00

Blake helping Abigail to a bowl of macaroni at the Portland Street Carts

I remember meeting a lady at a party Blake and I attended shortly after Abi was born. She and I were both holed up in some bedroom rocking crying babies in perfect step. The only difference was that she was rocking her second child, her first born off somewhere pulling something off of a shelf and rolling it down a flight of stairs, and I was rocking my first. I asked her how she managed with two and she said it was in all truth pretty crazy sometimes, but that it was fun and dynamic and somehow more mellow with two as well. She gave the example of a recent car trip they'd taken where her husband was driving and the new baby was crying because she wanted to nurse, even though they'd just set out and were desperate to make some time before the older child started whining, and so she climbed into the backseat between her children to feed the baby. She described being on her hands and knees, her entire torso hovering over the baby's car seat so that she could nurse, while her older son took the opportunity to stuff tortilla chips down the back of her pants. I laughed about that image for days and often comforted myself with it on especially challenging ones too.

For some reason I started thinking about that story again today, probably because I was eating corn chips, but also because I've begun to wonder just how different life is really going to be in a few short weeks. It's like I know the inevitable chaos is on it's way and I have no idea how to prepare. Should I be napping more, stocking the freezer with home cooked meals, making sure the laundry never piles up more than a day? Yes, I should do all of those things, I'm certain, but somehow I need to just find way to really (and I mean seriously) mellow out too. I need to get ready for some crazy. I need to find my sense of humor and permanently sew it into all of my underwear. (Just, you know, in case.)

Catharsis

2010-09-03T21:26:00.000-07:00

Today was really hard. It was beautiful outside and I started the day with a delicious marion berry fritter from Tulips bakery and Blake's brother is here visiting, making us laugh, and taking incredible pictures of Abigail and still it was one of the worst days I've known in recent years. I had to testify against my brother, or rather, against my brother's sanity, in an involuntary commitment hearing. In the end I had to watch him being committed to a psychiatric ward for up to six months.

My dad and I met at the courthouse early where we chattered like crickets in hallway for nearly an hour. We were finally led into a brown room, a windowless room, a brown, windowless, stale aired room. Once there we were asked in turn to raise our right hands. We choked through our testimonies, my father, the communications professor faring much better than I, and after some time everything was over, and I was wet with tears and my brother wouldn't look me in the eye. My father seemed lighter somehow, and yet more weary than before if that's possible.

What I noticed was that Dustin was skinnier than I've ever known him, taking notes on a yellow pad with a frantic tick. He looked so scared (and that's what really haunts me.) I know in my heart what is best, he is safe now, he will get through this, but I can't help thinking about his spindly thighs and bony elbows. I want so much to hold him and tell him that I think he's a beautiful person and that I love him. I'm thankful that my mother wasn't there to witness the hearing. I'm thankful again that she is flying here tomorrow morning and will be able to rock him in her arms. I hope her presence makes him less scared. A mother's touch is a healing balm.

And even though I can't write all of this without weeping, without feeling vulnerable in almost every way, I know that I should be letting all of this out like one big stymied breath. I know I should be bending with the breeze as my grandmother says. There is nothing else to do but that. And love on my Abigail. Kiss every one of her perfect toes.

Only a little bit sick

2010-09-01T12:27:00.000-07:00

When Abigail Greta is sick (but not that sick), on days like today, we stick close to home and take warm bubble baths. We make chocolate chip cookies and rent a movie (an extra special treat) and even eat bowls of grapes on the couch while doing so. When Abi is sick she naps in my bed, curled up in the bedding like a gnat. We drink lots of fresh squeezed orange juice with a straw and we listen to Vampire Weekend while making grilled cheese sandwiches.

When Abi is sick I don't take a shower in the morning and instead pull a crumpled skirt off the foot of the bed to be worn with last night's t-shirt and a hoodie. When Abi is sick we take fresh air walks with the stroller and talk about the dogs we see. We sing the alphabet and other songs too. When Abigail Greta is sick we spend a lot of time talking about Vaseline and putting small gobs of the stuff on our noses. There is something special about digging your finger into a fresh jar and even Maggie gets a glob or two.

When Abi is sick we sit on the kitchen floor in our rumpled up, crumpled up clothes and we eat warm cookies without a plate, my skirt suddenly both a napkin and tissue. And we feel pretty happy doing so. (Like maybe it's okay to be sick sometimes.)

By and By

2010-08-30T15:42:00.000-07:00

Remember my last post? As it turns out these things are even more complicated than I imagined. The good news is my dad is here and that makes me less responsible in some way. I'm just treading water now, waiting for someone to give me some sort of signal, maybe a direction to swim. I'm hanging out with Abigail, and rubbing belly butter on my stomach. I've passed on the reins and have stepped back into my normal life. Abi and I painted this morning and it felt quiet and I was relieved for the usualness of it.

Last night we had a baby shower for Gwenyth. It was more of a celebration though. It was awesome for a lot of reasons but mostly because it just felt really relaxed and fun. We didn't play any silly games or sit in a circle talking about baby names. Last night was more of a gathering of friends and dogs, and children too. It was Abigail running around like the wind, a hot dog in one hand, the tail of some poor dog in the other. It was two kinds of cake (carrot and to die for chocolate) barbeque chicken, colorful salads and platters, sangria and apple juice. Last night I decided when it comes to me, non traditional is best.

Also, did I mention, thanks for reading? I don't know who all of you are that read this thing but it's nice of you to do so. And those of you that sent me emails after my last post....thank you. (And I mean that.)