Monumental Playground Day

Today Jack did all sorts of things he's never done before. At the playground, he walked forwards up and down a bunch of stairs and learned to use the handrail. He slid down the slide all by himself, as in without my prompting or being at the bottom to cheer him on. He walked all around the playground, even though it was covered in snow and, since we usually end up doing a second set at the swing, he headed over there holding my hand for a little balance because of the snow. When he was done, he stopped smiling and held his arms up for me to stop the swing and pick him up. When I got him out, he walked over to the stroller and started to climb in.

Time to go!

I'd never seen such absolutely clear communication from him that didn't involve crying or throwing himself to the ground or throwing anything. It was amazing.

too bad I didn't have my camera...

Jack fell down...

Sorry, Grandmama Donna! I'll stitch it together with embroidery floss when I find it. Then he will have... Frankencrown!

and it will still be cute.

New Friends

So, I have a new friend-to-be-I-hope who is totally fabulous, smart and fun. (hi D!) Today we hung out at a big mall in Virginia. They had a fabulous play area for the tots and Mr. Knick Knack was singing his heart out and reading stories. The guy playing conga and tambourine kinda looked sweet and let the kids play with him. The 3 year old was about as good as the big nice guy in the funny sweater.




Jack and his new friend were playing nicely until Jack pushed little Z off a bee. Then he didn't want to be with Jack so much anymore. Poor little guy. Ok, not so little. Isn't he absolutely edible?




Jack is walking a lot - all of a sudden, he just started walking on his own. Of course, I think he's the most brilliant little boy in the whole world. Except when he tosses kids off bees. Then I think, not the best display of an attempt to interact with the world around him, but it's a sure sign he's trying! D was very forgiving. Nice D. I hope Not-so-wee Z gets Jack back!

I want this chair.

A strange thing happened at Z Gallerie. The store at this mall is closing and I want this chair:



But I can't buy it so I bought a jenga type game that stacks bones instead of rectangles with a skull on top. Cool.

Anyway, while I'm checking out I ask the cashier about the chair, delivery, et cetera - you know, living the fantasy of buying the chair. As she tells me the store is closing, I'm overcome with this wave of fear, frustration and pain. My arms flushed and I felt sick to my stomach. The closing date is less than 2 weeks away. I ask her, "Do you know what you are going to do?" And she says there's one thing. Then tells me some very personal information about why she needs medical coverage. No details about her condition, but that her medication is very expensive. Now I know where those feelings came from.

I want to tell her, I'm scared, too. There's no way I can buy that chair. This is a scary time right now for a lot of people.

Instead, I say, good luck! with enthusiasm and, I hope, some understanding and turn to walk away. But I get this other feeling. It's so warm and sweet and I surrender to it fully. I turned around, reached for her hand, looked into her eyes and said, I really feel that you are going to be okay. Better than you expect even.

In general, I'm not one to feel especially cheerful and currently I fight the same frustration, fear and anxiety I felt pouring from this woman. But I'm curious now how she will hold that experience. I like to believe that when I have these feelings that they are accurate. And I really felt that she would be okay and, quite possibly, better than she could imagine.

Then I walked away. And barely made it to the restroom. I hope I did take some of her pain from her. I really hope her load is a little lighter tonight. But even if it's nothing to her, I learned something about the depth of my own emotions and how unchecked they can affect others.

And you know, I still want this chair.

Hello, Old Friend...

Hello there. It's been a while... How are you, friend?

Well I guess someone listened to my request. Dear Husband was offered a great job on the other side of the country and we moved over the holidays. And yes, moving sucks. I hate it! Just organizing for the move is a nightmare. Sing along, you know the words! This is the move that never ends, it just goes on and on my friends.

Living in the land of boxes for months, perhaps years, just gets me down, man. Really down. And the slightest set back can make it much worse. I swore that this would be the move where we could fully unpack. The day after we put the books on the bookshelves, the pipes burst in the unit two doors up, destroying that house and leaking through the unit next door and into our basement. I met my neighbors by begging for their help to bring everything up from the basement. Now I have a living room full of boxes where there was nearly only a couch, table and chair. It was nice... for a minute.

I know, I know. You hate that Eeyore tone. I know. I think it's the weather. And the boxes. Oh and Jack isn't sleeping so well and so neither am I.

Well, tomorrow's another day, right? Take care of yourself.

Yes, I will get some sleep soon. Thanks, love.

Bye

Weird dreams...

I was just starting a new job at Microsoft and the whole day was spent trying to figure out what I actually do. There were so many people - it was crowded down there and felt more like an underground mall than a workplace. There was a clothing store full of men's and women's suits, blouses, nylons and pumps in black, gray, brown and a lot of people shopping, pushing past each other all wearing the clothes I saw for sale. Do they ever leave?

There were movie theatres and concert halls and somewhat of a party vibe going on, like, "isn't it great that we practically live here?!"

It kinda freaked me out. It was such an artificial atmosphere and I couldn't believe everyone was buying it.

********************

In real life, my mother has been ill recently and was hospitalized. Living far away from her has been stressful because I fear her dying suddenly. In this dream, she came to visit me.

"What are you doing here," I asked her.

"I just came to give you a hug." And she embraced me.

Somehow this was really disturbing and I woke wondering if that was her spirit coming to say goodbye. I've had psychic dreams before about things happening to my family. It was 3 am and I had to hold myself back from calling her at that moment to make sure she was okay.

I talked to her later, and she's fine. She said she was probably cold and likes my hugs so maybe she came to hug me to get warm!

Job Search

The dear Husband is working hard - phone calls to supportive friends with information about this or that company, recommendations from others, web research on companies hiring for his particular skill set and getting details on who pays more where, and creating new works to target companies he would like to work for.

It's like killing a moose with salt peter.

"more fantasy, more sci-fi, not enough zombies" - I guess being a diverse artist is more of a problem than one would imagine. I mean, who knew being able to draw a sexy pin-up model with the same skill as a tank or Beast of Another Dimension would be a drawback?

Having him at home is a mixed blessing, too. He's helpful with Jack, taking him for walks in the morning, playing with him during the day, helping change diapers or taking over if I need a break.

But all that takes away from his job search. Jack is often very loud, which makes it hard for Ray to concentrate on new paintings. So I have to devise free things to do for hours on end in between Jack's erratic nap times to get out of the house. It's easier when the weather's decent but when it's cold and rainy out, I just wish we had a working fireplace and a nanny so I could read in bed all day.

So, someone - please hire my husband. He's experienced, talented, works smart and gets along with just about everybody. Yes, I'm a little biased, but just look at his work and when you get your socks back on, call or email him. You'll be glad you did. And so will I.

Halloween Mourning...

I haven't finished my altar. The pictures aren't hung, I can't even find marigolds anywhere or any of my favorite special things for honoring this very special time. I keep meaning to paint the jizos and tweak this or that and just don't.

I miss my crafty self. Will she come back? Can't I just have a eensy bit of Martha?

I no heart hackers.

thank you, hacker butt head. Thank you for hijacking a friend's msn messenger account and sending a link that ruined our hard drive, making inaccessible all of our photos for the past 4 - 5 years of our life, quite a lot of my husband's work and much more. Thanks for just being a real jerk. Too bad I am not as nasty as you, that I can't find you and string you up for a halloween decoration like I feel you deserve.

But I will let the universe deal with you, twit. You'll wonder why all the chicks you try to date never answer your call, or the ones you do will give you STDs. Yeah, buddy. Have fun out there. If you think the world's kicking you in the balls, that's because you've taped a sign on your own back that says "kick me!"

Hackers = Wankers

A pox on all your parent's basement, since you'll be there for a while.

A night away...

I had planned a super secret special surprise for my honey's birthday. You see, all he said he wanted was a good night's sleep. So, I booked a babysitter (Awesomest Fairy Godmommy Tamara!) and found a great deal on an apartment for the night through a friend's corporate housing company.

I planned a dinner and breakfast and pre-prepped what I could while he was at work. I packed a bag with all the essentials including candles, sparkling french wine and strawberries, bought flowers, and hid everything in the garages. I planned my beard (dinner with friends at our house and a last minute craigslist purchase/pick up that he had to come with. Don't worry - the baby's okay with Tamara for a few minutes.

The idea was that I would drive to the place, knock on the door a few times, then pull out the key and open it to rose petals, mood lighting and soft music. "Surprise! Here's your good night's sleep! Of course, you'll have to work for it..." *seductive grin*

But when Honey bunny got laid off Friday, he started to spin wildly saying, I don't want to go out or have fun. I've got too much stuff to think about.

Uh oh.

So I spilled the beans.

And you know what? He was so happy and surprised and excited... He kept telling me how he was looking forward to it all day. It seemed to make him more relaxed about facing a job search. And today, after an evening of fun and a good night's rest, Honey Bunny emerged refreshed and excited with a focused plan and renewed resolve.

Unfortunately, it means we'll probably have to lose the cable TV. Clean House! What will I do without you!

the best laid plans...

Ray got laid off today. No warning - well, a little, but he was getting the sideways talks from the owner saying, good thing you're going to this other team. That's the place to be. Basically, he lied to give Ray a false feeling of security during an awkward time.

Then today they are told to clean out their desks.

Part of me wants to call the owner and say, why Ray? You know we have a baby - you gave us the freakin' crib! Well, at least if we lose our home, we can turn the crib over, put a tarp on it and call it home.

But then, I realized they are worse off than we are. C_ mortgaged his house to the hilt to personally finance one of the projects when the incoming money from investors trickled away. Now, he could lose everything including their brand new kitchen with a single piece of marble slap large enough for at least 4 autopsies at a time. And flawlessly white. Beautiful, just beautiful. I wonder what his wife will say. I wonder about their 4 kids and horses and chickens and fancy cars.

Enough about them. He screwed his own family as much as he's screwed mine and I'm angry.

Desprerate times...

... call for desperate measures. And 2:45 am is decidedly a desperate time when the baby has us up every 1/2 hour to 1 1/2 hours and crying, crying anytime we put him in the crib. Finally I put on a jacket, grabbed my keys and the baby and said, we're going for a drive.

It's interesting to see what 24 hour drive thru's are actually open. McDonald's had lots of "24 hour DRIVE THRU signgs, but nobody was home. Not my first choice, but it was close and the fries aren't too dangerous. Starbucks wasn't likely to have the sandwiches I like and coffee was not what I needed. So Jack in the Box won out. By the way, the ice cream shakes are thick. Better hold out for a warm day on that one before you pop a blood vessel sucking so hard. Breakfast sandwich was pretty good, but not as good as Starbucks.

After all this searching, baby JackJack was still cooing, albeit quietly, in his seat while we cranked up KEXP friday night dance party. DaftPunk usually puts him right out but these were extenuating circumstances.

We finally hit the highway, and drove to Seattle. Might as well have a pretty drive while we are lulling our baby to sleep, right? And no, neither of us made the joke. One might have struck the other, or worse, turned up the electronic beat box louder.

An hour and half later, we were home. Baby transferred soundly asleep to crib and slept for at least another hour before waking us bemoaning his soul-deep loneliness and burning desire for our company.

C'est la vivre, eh? And through it all, I can still look at him, now smiling and discovering and boundless and love him. And you know, I didn't once imagine what he might taste like. A move up!

mom's night out...

I'm visiting friends, the "village" I'd planned on raising my children with. It's been so much fun and sweet and really cool in that way that being around the people who know you best only can be. The friend I'm staying with has a daughter just 27 hours older than my son which is very special to both of us. In the past few days, we've nursed and soothed each other's babies in ways that makes me feel somewhat lonely in my life in the PNW.

This is the first night I've really gone out and not had to come home to a baby at all. The husband took all the kids to "Baby Island," a resort of sorts which is the home of another friend. The two husbands watched the 9 and 7 year old, a 19 month and 2 9 month old babies. They win awards in my book.


I've been tempted to call but I really don't want to .. I don't want to know that my son is freaking out or that he's really just fine without me. These husbands are so conscientious, I know they are taking great care of my son. But the image of Jack screaming and crying, holding his hand out to me as they drove away is haunting me. And I had to pump and throw away the breast milk - over 16 oz - to relieve myself and because I'd been drinking. It was so strange yet felt like the right thing. I only regret not putting it to some other use, if possible...

So now I go to an empty bed and I can't imagine sleeping on my own. No husband, no baby, so I post. Go to sleep already!!

Faerie Picnic!

We went to a Faerie picnic today, but since it was on Faerie time and we were on baby time, not much happened before it was time to go.

We found a great little Greek restaurant where I could tie Tasha up outside with some water and there was a good sized child's play area. how cool! jack just went in and got to work chewing on legos and fake food.

When it came time to eat real food, he still treats the spoon like a nipple sometimes trying to suck the food out of it instead of opening his mouth. We have fabulous video of our friend, Rob, father of 2, trying to teach jack to open his mouth. It was very entrancing for jack, but not as educational as we hoped.

One step closer...

Today, while talking to Brother Mike, I said, "No, he's not quite crawling yet. He pushes with his legs but hasn't coordinated it with being up on his arms so he just scoots around on his face," which is even funnier than it sounds and not as damaging as you'd think.

Then I went to the park for a while with the dogs leaving the wee one sleeping while the hubby got some much needed billable hours. At least, that was the hope. There must always be hope.

I returned, feeling refreshed and almost a little sunned out (which is a cherished feeling here in the grey PNW), and walked into the studio to discover I had spoken too soon. Lo and behold, there is my little boy, crawling toward me with a smile on his face!

It's so sweet and exciting and terrifying at the same time. Every step he makes is one step closer to stealing my keys. But it's also a step to his independence, his discovery of the world and himself in it. It's a step of hope. Yes, there must always be hope.

Mother's Day, Part 2

I'll post my actual essay later, much edited and revised (Thanks, Amy! You are awesome!) but it's important to say how it went first.

I wrote another essay that was more specifically about my mother and what I feel are the most wonderful and lasting impacts of her mothering. Then I found out she had been admitted into hospital for severe anemia. In the hospital, she received 2 bags of blood and, the next day, a bag of iron which made her break out into an itchy bright red rash. When they gave her Benadryl, her body went into convulsive spasms.

When I heard that, I booked a flight. Later we learned from several different sources that the iron was most likely pushed too quickly. She's been to a few hematologists, and switched her GP and GI doctors to new people who looked deeply enough to discover her non-cancerous duodenal tumor.

At the date of publishing, all I know is that she has seen or talked to several surgeons who agree that she needs to have it removed ASAP, but won't do it. So it's a bit tricky. Mom feels relieved to have a diagnosis, but it's weird knowing there's this thing inside of her that doesn't belong, is hurting her and she has to be on a quest to find someone to take it all away.

So, while I gave my speech in church, my mother lay in hospital and all I wanted was to be there hugging her. I cried on my way to the church, I cried with my reverend before the service, and later when I read her my essay. She loved it, by the way.

sweet

Jack is very sweet in the morning. He smiles and giggles and coos. It helps to make up for, no - magically erase the pain and suffering he caused during the night.

One morning in particular, we had been following our regular pattern of nurse, doze, nurse, doze. He had fallen back asleep so I brought him up to rest facing me on my pillow. I woke an hour or so later to him softly caressing my face. His palm was so soft and warm. I opened my eyes and could see his sparkling blue eyes, his father's eyes, just shining his love for me, just like his father's do.

In that moment, my love for my little family, my sweet son, my loving husband, welled up.

This is why I did this.

Mother's Day, part 1

I'm excited to be a part of creating the Mother's Day service at our church. Sitting with these ladies discussing and sharing our motherhood humbles me again to my new life. I've wanted this for so long and to gaze at my little one or play or sing with him, I'm just so grateful.

We've been asked to each write a 3 - 4 minute essay on motherhood. Here is my first try:

Mothering is like holding a live wet fish. Just when you think you have it, it slips right out of your hands. I could extend this metaphor to make it a shape shifting fish that becomes a clown, a tiger, or a delicate vase. I never know from one moment to the next if I have the sweet "good" baby, the one that's quiet and smiles on cue, or the ferocious tiger that hits my boob as he's nursing, as if to control the flow somehow - one smack for faster, two for slow down. Sometimes he sleeps easily, sometimes he'll only sleep in my arms and the slightest movement (like me shifting to hold it in just one more minute) is enough for him to wake in an inconsolable rage.

He's only 4 months old and my world has quickly shifted down to a 16lb, 6 oz, 26" long piece of real estate that captivates, enchants, and torments me more than anything I could have ever prepared for. Before him, I thought I knew what love was. Now, loving my son makes me feel like I'm cut open, my insides available for all to see. I am so vulnerable, frightened and exhilarated. It's wilder than any mountain I've thrown myself off of, any trek I've undertaken, any bone I've broken or set. And it's 24/7/365 for the rest of my life. I'm so tired, I'm delirious. I'm so delirious, I love it.

4 months and growing

How is it that when I get more sleep, I feel worse. Jack has spent the last month eating every 2 hours at night and nursing for 1/2 hour at the least. I've been fine - doing yoga, walking several miles with the dogs every day, and taking care of business at home (well, kinda.. The laundry gets done, for sure).

Then last night, something magical happens. He sleeps for 3 hours and nurses for 5 minutes and goes right back to sleep. This morning, I feel like I've been hit with truck. I had to check my bed for tire tracks.

There weren't any. So, how did this happen? Did a month of poor sleep crash in on me after 1 night of relatively better sleep? If this is what 3 hours feels like, give me back my 2 hour sprints! Yesterday, I was thinking of running a 5K. Today, I'm not sure I can walk a mile and wish I dog walker and a babysitter, so I could go back to sleep and not think about any of this.

3 months old...

Jack has now seen 3 months outside the womb. I decided to celebrate with a little photo shoot inspired by the tutelage of a few wonderful photographers I know, Cedar Bough Saeji and Emily Weaver Brown.







Also, thanks to Dad and Joanne! We love you, Grampa and Nana!