Last night we created the smallest, cutest Candlemas, or Imbolc,  ceremony in our home. (I’m sort of better at my practice in my mind than in practice, so to speak.) But this year we pulled it off. We rolled four simple beeswax candles and talked about it being the midpoint between the winter solstice, or beginning of winter, and the spring equinox, or end of winter/beginning of spring.

I love that the wintertime is punctuated by festivals of warmth and light, and that candles still have a beautiful place in even our modern homes. And damn, that beeswax smells so good! Children are usually far removed from the fire that has traditionally kept us warm, kept human beings safe and together, and helped us build and maintain our human family. That’s too bad. We try to light a candle every evening for our bedtime Candle Prayer. It’s good to be reminded of the magic of a lighted candle in the dark.

This is an exciting moment for me because from here on, I can look forward to spring. [Incidentally, this day (February 2) was my official due date for Asher’s birth three years ago. I sort of expected to have an Imbolc baby—it seemed to follow naturally since I already had a Beltane baby. Even though I didn’t have an Imbolc baby, the association is still there.]

Oh, and Happy Birthday to Lance, wherever he is.

Oh, Asher!

Three? Three years old? Already?

I suppose all of my birthday letters start out this way: How can you be this age already? (And isn’t Mommy predictable?)

Let me try to explain:

Mommy lives in two times, simultaneously.

In one timeline, the days are 30 hours each and they lumber by in no hurry because, really, where is there to go? There are runny noses to wipe and spills to mop. Toys spread out and toys are gradually raked back into their proper places, ebbing in and out, much like waves on a beach. Our rhythm and routines are routine; they simply push us through the hours slowly. There’s no real urgency because tomorrow will be very much like today or yesterday. Life is punctuated by visits to and from grandparents and trips to the grocery store. I only know it’s Tuesday because we’re out of Strauss vanilla yogurt. We creep silently toward each weekend with some anticipation because then Daddy will be home during the day and we’ll all enjoy his company.

The other timeline is faster and, frankly, I think you’re completely unaware of it. You don’t realize how quickly you are changing because you have plenty of other things to think about, like whether Lucas is touching your stuff or Daddy remembered to buy more yogurt. You don’t notice that you’re acquiring new information so fast it makes my head spin. Shiny new words pop out of your mouth every hour and sometimes I have to stop and wonder, where on earth did you hear that? I can practically watch your hair growing.

This is the timeline that people with older or grown children always refer to when they say, “Oh! It goes by so fast! Treasure the time when your baby is little!” And sleepily I think to myself, Bull! It doesn’t go fast. In fact, the minutes between 3 a.m. and 4 a.m. numbered about 40,000 this morning. Because when we’re in it, in the trenches of every hour of every day, it’s slow going. But even as I restrain my temper and hold my tongue, I know those other parents are right, in a way. They’re talking about how one minute you need help to reach something on the countertop and the next minute you’re pushing me away with a forceful demand, “I do it by mySELF!” One minute you’re all about cuddling in the rocking chair, and the next you cannot be bothered because, as you explain so clearly, “Mom, I’m too busy.” And one day you won’t want to cuddle at all anymore and you’ll be borrowing my car keys and scrounging in my purse for cash. And then I’ll think just like all those other parents. I’ll know that my stint of living in two times is over, and they’ve merged into one, luge-like race.

But never mind. Let’s not borrow trouble, shall we?

And how can my meager words capture a picture of you now, on your third birthday, about to start your fourth year in our family? I guess I’ll start small.

You now have a wealth of likes and dislikes and you’re not afraid to tell us all about them. Your favorite colors are yellow and purple—your birthday cake was purple. Your favorite animal seems to be a hippo, although you also like cows, and mice, and aliens. I’m pretty sure you think aliens are just another everyday barnyard animal. You also think hippos and monkeys and zebras belong on farms, too. You enjoy the Bennetts’ cats a lot, but grandma’s dog Tolly is just a bit too tall and bouncy for you to feel entirely comfortable around her. She always licks your face and her tail accidentally bops you in the side of your head. Bacon (NoNo and Mars’s dog) is another story! You cannot get enough of Bacon and you think it’s hilarious that his name is Bacon!

Pretend play and role-playing are coming into the forefront of your play routines. You like to play firefighter, alien hunter, superhero, builder, guardian of Princess Mommy, store, and office—these last two games mostly involve your dumping everything you own (and much of your brother’s stuff) in a giant pile and then sitting in the middle of it—not unlike a 3-year-old dragon lazing atop your mountain of stolen gold.

Until just recently, you did all of your playing in the family room (where you could make the pile of stuff really big). You seem now to have discovered your bedroom, and have turned it into a factory. You are playing in there now more than ever before and you really like to have a witness. “Do you want to come in my factory?” you invite sweetly. You don’t like hearing no for an answer, though. At the moment, the train table is piled high with your toys all in a jumble. If I move anything, if I put any little thing away and you catch me doing it, you get really mad at me. Nothing will send you into a rage faster than when we touch your stuff. “DON’T TOUCH MY STUFF!”

About one week ago, we touched your stuff in a big way. We moved your brother’s bed into your room with the idea that the two of you will share a bedroom for a while. We had been discussing it for about a month and you and Lucas are very excited about it. You even became convinced it was your idea. “How ‘bout this idea? Lucas’s bed up high and Baby Asher’s bed down here!” So far this is working out pretty well. You don’t want to go to sleep at the same time as Lucas, but I think that’s just a matter of time and our sticking to it. We have let you stay up too late for too long for you to easily accept an abrupt change of routine and an earlier bedtime. We’re making the bedroom move in stages. It is our sincere hope that this will be a very positive thing for you and Lucas both. We’re hoping it might bring you closer together and encourage you to get along well. We’ll see…

Just this morning, the morning of your third birthday, you ran into our room and made a pronouncement. I was asleep at the time, so I don’t remember exactly what you said, but I remember thinking, My goodness! He really has learned to talk! Every day you perfect the art of communicating with us. You also are developing a juvenile sense of humor: Your favorite words now are “booty butt” and “poop,” which are both understandable and somewhat embarrassing. I mean, it’s not good manners to tell all the adult women you know “You have a big booty butt.” I’ve caught myself trying to soften the blow by warning my female friends before you can spring that little gem on them. You seem to say it just to see what will happen, given that you make the same size comment on a great variety booty butts.

You ask me pretty often these days whether I have a penis. When I answer in the negative, you’re not pleased and frequently claim you don’t have one either. Worse, you sometimes say something like “I don’t want a penis. I cut it off.” I assure you that penises are good and nice and you should have one. Boys have them and it’s great!

Asher, I’m delighted to report that you are learning to eat vegetables. You still would rather not do it, but you have a more pragmatic approach to mealtimes now. If you want dessert (often strawberries or oranges or apple slices), you have to muscle your way through some spinach leaves or a couple of carrots. I bless your preschool teachers every time you accept your fate and start munching on plant foods. You’re acquiring a taste for potatoes and the other day you even dove into a pile of asparagus. I said a silent hallelujah while hushing your brother’s groans and moans about having to eat it. You still ask for “chocolate dinner,” though, as if you’ve ever gotten a chocolate dinner! When you cook for me in your kitchen, you often serve chocolate dinners.

I noticed that you were developing an aversion to the doctor’s office. We have had to visit Dr. Felix three or four times this fall/winter; the first time was for a flu shot. You began protesting, saying “I don’t need a doctor. Doctor is creepy. I don’t go to the doctor.” We have started playing doctor in the hopes that you would build up more positive associations, and for your birthday, we bought you a groovy doctor’s kit and stethoscope. I think you’re more comfortable now with the idea that doctors fix people and make them feel better. Today at your birthday party you blew through all the band-aids that came in the kit. You say, “Be really, really brave” as you come at me with your wooden hypodermic needle. All the party guests left with their owies well treated by Doctor Baby Asher.

And speaking of your name, you still refer to yourself as Baby Asher. Sometimes you announce “I a big boy.” I think that your teachers are working on that idea at school. After all, big boys get to do more cool stuff. You have proven me wrong about the potty training—you still have no interest in using the potty. Silly mommy, making false predictions about when you’d learn those potty skills! Still, I’m hoping that your buddy at school will inspire you to start doing it. And I know boys tend to train later than girls do.

Occasionally, you are a furious wildcat when it’s time for a nap. The other day I held you in my arms and swayed on my feet while you howled and spit, clawed and hissed, groaned and growled, thrashed and scratched and wailed for 35 minutes. Then, you collapsed in a heap and slept for two solid hours. You just don’t want to rest. You are far to busy doing your own thing. But I persist and I fervently hope that you will continue napping through the next year at least.

Dear Asher, you are both my fascination and my tiny little nemesis. You offer us such joy, such pleasure, and such tribulation! You are my perfect, exquisite little torturer and I love you through it all. Thank you for being my darling, my Angel Boy. Thank you for falling asleep in my arms and by my side. Thank you for gracing my life will all the laughter, snuggles, and goofy grins. My heart is full to bursting. My life is richer for you.

I love you, Baby. My Little Big Boy Asher. Happy Birthday!

Mama

It was a great weekend! Ian and I got to go to see Eddie Izzard play Oakland’s Oracle Arena with some friends. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a bigger venue for anything. We had nosebleed seats way up top, but it didn’t much matter. We so enjoyed him. Anybody who does Latin jokes is my hands-down favorite. I took a pic with my cell phone, but I don’t know how to get the picture to my computer…

Yesterday we moved Lucas’s bed into Asher’s room. Well, Lucas and Ian moved the bed. I performed support tasks and kept Asher out of the way. It’s quite an adventure taking Ikea furniture apart and putting it back together again. Good think my hubby’s so handy! Both of the boys seem very excited about this new arrangement. Last night at bedtime there was a kind of slumber-party feeling in the air. I expect it will take some getting used to, but I think they will adapt nicely. Asher’s bed is now beneath Lucas’s bed, which gives Asher a kind of cubbyhole to sleep in. I think he will come to really like that, at least for a time. We’ll leave things like this awhile and eventually move my office into Lucas’s old bedroom. I feel a little guilty taking his room from him—it’s been his since his birth. But the new arrangement will give my office a door (a blessed, beautiful door!) that I can close to keep out family noise while I’m working. I look at it as a short- to medium-term investment in my sanity and my business, and possibly in my kids’ relationship. Perhaps sharing a room will promote brotherly closeness. Or perhaps that’s my wishful thinking.

I got to share a meal with some girlfriends last night and I’m more determined than ever to make that a more regular occurrence.  I just need to get out more and my kids can now handle it better.

We’re getting ready for Asher’s birthday party next weekend. I’m excited!

There’s only one thing around here that’s blue but not man-made. Seeing the sky this color is a treat in January, especially after the rains we’ve been having. Lichen is cool, too.

It’s been storming in California for days. Our backyard is flooded, but only temporarily. Our drainage system just needs time to catch up and shunt off all that water. In the front yard, the runoff is meandering down our quiet street, pooling awhile here and there.

The sun came out to dazzle us for a little while. It will rain again soon. But seeing the water sparkle makes it all worthwhile.

It’s 10:30 a.m. on a holiday. My boys are all home and presently engaged in drawing backdrops for the Lego movie they plan on making today. I have no idea how they will accomplish this, given that we have an old-fashioned camcorder and not a fancy digital camera, nor any editing software. Perhaps I’m overthinking it. I’m hearing phrases about aliens and space police and stop-motion. Asher is helping, so it will be interesting to watch with one eye how this project unfolds (and potentially is destroyed by Baby Godzilla) .

I’m sitting here in my office in my living room trying to work and not pay too much attention to everyone. I’m trying to edit a strategy guide for a ubiquitous game franchise and it feels for all the world like I’ve read these exact words a hundred million times before. (OK. Maybe I’m not trying all that hard if I’ve stopped to write this post.)

Rain is falling outside and my throat’s a little sore, but I know there’s no point in going back to bed to rest more.

I’ve signed up for a class on developmental editing for fiction—I’m interested in learning how other people tackle this sort of thing, especially since I work in a vacuum most of the time. I’m hopeful that I’ll learn a bunch that will help me land more such projects. So I’m looking forward to the class and also hoping that it won’t take too much time away from my projects.

I’m starting a new project tomorrow and I’ll be working directly with the author. I expect another big nursing copyedit to come my way, but this one won’t be a whole book. I’ll be editing test questions and I expect that to take about two months, starting any day now.

My meeting with my uncle, who is the editor in chief for a religious publisher, was very productive. I get to look at his fall list and choose some books that sound interesting to me. I don’t know if I’ll really get my pick(s), but it sounds like a strong possibility. His books are very clever, scholarly, and carry some cachet, and the prospect of working on something challenging sounds good.

So, at the moment, I’m feeling pretty great about where I am in the world. Some interesting new things are on my horizon! Oh! And I bought a fabulous new coat yesterday.

Blessed quiet fills the house this morning. School has started back up, and although it was a trifle rocky getting Lucas out the door, I am very pleased to be back to our school-days routine. I am enjoying filling my body with the silence and deep breaths. There is plenty to do: editing work, chores, errands. And yet, I’m feeling peaceful and happy.

We had a good, long winter break. Ian was off work for the entire time the kids were out of school and daycare, and that, my friends, is a BEAUTIFUL thing. I’m so grateful because my work didn’t slack off at all until New Year’s Day and if Ian hadn’t been at home to keep the children occupied, I never would have made it. I am burned out and weary, but the last couple of days have been mellow, with hardly any work at all—just a check-in here, an email to write and send there. Rest is most welcome and I’m hoping to get a lot of it this week.

Christmas. What can I say? It was glorious and outrageous as ever. It was abundant and fun. It was also both busy and a little weird at times. Family troubles dominated my family’s side of things this year. Fortunately, I think my boys didn’t even notice. The gift-giving at RoRo’s house was low-key compared to usual, which was a blessing. And yet, somehow, my parents made up for that by showering presents on my kids. Mom and Dad and Jonathan arrived at our house Christmas morning with a huge carload of gifts. My mother kept shaking her head and muttering, “I guess I got a little carried away this year.” This amuses me; it’s not really like her to do so.

Ian and I approached Christmas with a fair amount of trepidation. Some of which was totally unfounded. We enjoyed a spur-of-the-moment shopping spree at Toys R Us for the kiddos. We also plowed through our home and garage in the last days before Christmas and boxed up lots of old toys for Goodwill and some for Ian’s clinic. So far, not a single item has been missed by Lucas or Asher.

I am so grateful the children had such a nice Christmas. Our days were full of conspicuous good behavior, talk of Santa Claus, and lots attention from Daddy.

Here are just some of the wonderful gifts we received:

Lucas: lots of science kits (experiments, volcanoes, science you can eat such as soda, rock candy, etc.), rollerblades, books, awesome colored pencils, Green Lantern action figures, and massive amounts of Lego.

Asher: books, puzzles, a noisy rocket ship, a noisy fire truck, a noisy cash register (his new “computer”), wooden boats, play dough, a carved owl that hoots, wooden tools, and nice block crayons.

Ian: a gorgeous new rug, many books, lots of music, a sweater, slippers, and high-quality cookware.

Sara: a gorgeous new rug, a Singer sewing machine, Gingher sewing shears, books, sweaters, two scarves, and lotion.

Our 15th annual Christmas party was a huge success! We were delighted to welcome old friends and new to our home Christmas night. I’m still smiling about it. We had a bunch of kids come, too, which was great fun for our boys. The last guests left at 2:30 a.m. on Boxing Day.

I had high hopes to make gifts this year. None of my plans panned out because my work kept me cranking hard the whole month. Some part of me finds it interesting to watch my internal struggle about that; letting go of my expectations and banishing the Shoulds is often hard for me. But I did it eventually out of necessity. Our Christmas was bountiful in every way, and that is thanks, in part, to the work I do.

Thank you to all who showered us with presents, good food, their presence, good wishes, and love.

Our first batch of plum jam was made on December 4th with Papa. Last night we made another big batch and we’ll have to see later tonight whether it’s gelled properly. The jam is low in sugar, sweet-tart, and full of pulpy goodness. I hope it’s delicious.

The plums we used were frozen from last year’s harvest, when Dad and I picked way more than we could process in three jam-making sessions. It was a difficult time then, full of anxiety (and flat-out fear on my part) about Dad’s upcoming heart surgery, and making jam together was our bonding activity. It was special and sweet, the first time we had ever made jam together, and laced with uncomfortable overtones of, “what if.”

The jamming has been different this year. More of a celebration. More an act of thanksgiving for me. Dad is well, perhaps not fully recovered, but nevertheless doing great despite a lot of stress and caring for his 89-year-old mother and 96-year-old  aunt. He would say he’s all better now. I know he still tires easily.

I would be very pleased if I could be making plum jam with my dad for another 15 years.

I’m working on being both reasonable and flexible this holiday season—reasonable about what I can accomplish and flexible when circumstances change and obstacles arise.

I had high hopes that we could go up to the foothills this year to hunt for our Christmas tree, but the rainy weather on Saturday and limited time made the trip impossible. We always have such fun visiting the craft fairs and enjoying a slice of apple pie. Instead, we went to Lucas’s school and bought a beautiful tree. Our money will help the school and a group of girls who have formed a eurhythmy troop. We were back home with our tree in less than 30 minutes, which meant that we got the whole thing decorated in a day, instead of it taking all weekend (a day in the foothills, and a day to decorate the tree).

It’s wacky that so many of our ornaments have memories attached to them. I often know where they came from—who gave this one to us, what year I bought that one, which ones are handmade, where Mom and Dad were traveling when they picked up those two, what this one meant to me when I received it. I have ornaments that have been on my family’s Christmas tree since I was in preschool. And if that’s not sentimental, I don’t know what is.

Our Capitola vacation was perfectly lovely in almost every way. Our rented in-law suite worked well for us and we especially loved having the whole, gorgeous yard—complete with ocean view—to play in. We spent time outside, sitting and listening to the waves below, watching the birds dancing and spiraling in the air above the cliff and bay, sipping champagne, reading, and playing games with the boys. Asher and Lucas loved finding shovels and rakes to play with and a garden patch, containing bark to push around and dig, and a plastic play house. Our hosts were even gracious enough to drop some extra Duplo blocks for our kids to use.

I think we may have accomplished just about everything on my agenda for those six days off, including a super-fun trip to the Santa Cruz boardwalk on Friday after Thanksgiving, where Lucas and Asher and Ian got to enjoy some rides. It was adorable watching Lucas sitting with Asher in a tiny helicopter, teaching him how to make it go up and down, and reassuring him when Asher was feeling nervous.

Asher didn’t much care for the clown face into which you’re supposed to throw the brass rings you grab on the carousel. He refused to sit on a horse, but sat in my lap in a carriage instead. Lucas managed to grab the rings several times. I made Ian ride the kiddie race-car ride with Asher because it looked a little too fast and I thought Asher might get scared if Ian weren’t with him. They all had a blast.

We picnicked on a grassy lawn in some blustery weather and afterward played some arcade games, which are not my favorite but everyone else enjoyed them. Word of warning: Do not allow Asher to drive any type of vehicle anytime soon! He is all too interested in pushing every possible button and pulling every possible lever as quickly and frequently as he can.

Naturally, we had our normal family and sibling squabbles, too. Having the spacious home and two bedrooms helped with that, though. I think Lucas would have enjoyed more time at the beach, of course. We did go several times for partial days. I worked a little, but not so much that it was oppressive.

Other enjoyable moments included a walk to Gayle’s Bakery in Capitola on Wednesday morning, where we ate pastries and muffins outside, and then we paid a visit to Many Hands Gallery (where we didn’t break a thing!). We took walks into town (with some shopping), played lawn games, and watched sunsets over the ocean. Ian read to us from The Wind and the Willows before bedtime and he generously let me sleep in a tad in the mornings; he even figured out how to make good coffee with the French press. I got to knit some more on Asher’s sweater and even read a little. We even watched the new “Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe” film together (Lucas and Asher prudently left the room during the Stone Table scenes but enjoyed all the rest of it). As some of you know, movies often don’t go over too well around here.

Lucas surprised us by requesting a traditional Thanksgiving dinner. Although we weren’t really equipped for marathon cooking, we didn’t see any real reason to say no, so we bought a complete dinner from Safeway that fit the bill nicely. No, the food was not grand, but the setting was, so nobody minded. I’ve never had Thanksgiving dinner on a sunny cliff before! We called home on Thanksgiving to talk to our parents and watched “Tom and Jerry” cartoons while dinner was warming.

Of course, the beach was a favorite for all. I love to watch my boys playing in the sand and surf and stream and sun. I think they are most perfectly at peace in such places, perfectly alive and playful. There is a stream that runs into the sea on Capitola Beach and it makes the most divine place to play, with the stream running broadly and only about six inches deep. The water was cold, but that’s half the fun.

It took Asher some time before he felt comfortable enough to leave our side. He sat peacefully playing in the sand for a long while, but when he finally braved touching the stream with his toes, it was only moments before he was soaked up to his thighs. He ran through the water, splashing up- and downstream for an hour and a half. He said he was surfing.

Lucas braved the surf and got knocked down a few times when the waves came in bigger than he expected. He was OK, though, and got back up right away and went back for more. He must have been freezing, but that sort of thing doesn’t matter to a 7-year-old. I remember feeling exactly that way myself when I was his age.  Frankly, to this day, I cannot go to the seaside and NOT touch the sea. It’s just impossible; to forego touching the waves is a sacrilege to great to be borne.

On our way home we stopped at Jeannie’s Christmas tree farm in the Santa Cruz mountains, Raccoon Gulch, and spent the afternoon there. We picnicked on turkey leftovers with Steve and Jeannie and met her parents. With Jeannie’s mom, Karen, Lucas made a “Spice Angel” with cinnamon sticks, bay leaves, yarn, and corn husk wings. (She’s lovely, and as soon as I find her acorn head, I’ll glue it back on and hang her up.)

Unfortunately, after we finished eating Jeannie had to leave for work. Steve led us through the woods along their “bike trail,” down into the gulch, over by the lake, and up to the “old barn.” It was so gorgeous and Lucas and Asher trooped along after Steve like mini Boy Scouts, listening intently as Steve identified plants and various fungi, and told stories about this fallen log or that thicket. Before long, my kids were shouting out, “Steve, here’s a mushroom!” Only for Asher, it was more like, “Teve! A mushooom!” (I’m really sad I didn’t take my camera along on this walk, but I was in the moment.)

I fell in love with the ~400-year-old oak tree at the end of Jeannie’s family’s property. So massive, so majestic—yet also it looked somewhat weary. Its huge branches grew up out of a giant trunk, out, and down— almost spiderlike. They rest on the ground for a span, as if they are too heavy to hold up, and then rise back up a little. It was very peaceful there in the dusk.

At the lake we had a long discussion about duckweed, and Lucas was determined to make biodiesel out of the duckweed he put in a bottle to take home. As far as I can tell, it is surviving the freezing weather in my backyard nicely, in the green plastic bucket where Lucas put it upon returning home.

More photos are now on my photos page or on  Flickr.