This past Monday was a day of triumph and celebration for Lucas. He learned how to ride his two-wheeled bike without training wheels! It was thrilling to watch his determination, courage (in trying again after falling), and exultation when he figured it out. 

We started a couple of weeks ago. Lucas had a friend over and they rode bikes together, but the friend didn’t have training wheels. That day, Lucas decided to take his training wheels off. At the neighbor’s suggestion, Ian took Lucas to the school field at the end of our street and he rode down a grassy hill into the field, to take advantage of the soft landing.

Then on Monday, Lucas, Asher and I went to the field and tried it on the big hill. He rode down that about 15 times. Each time he pedalled halfway across the field before hitting the grass, getting a feel for the needed balance. Each time, he got up and ran back toward me with his arms open wide and exhilaration on his face. I picked him up (as best as I could) and swung him around in the air. Then he ran back to his bike and trudged it up the hill to do it all again. I hollered and cheered myself hoarse. The hill gave him the speed he needed to pedal and feel his balance.

On our short walk home, he must have decided it was lame to walk his bike because he got on it at the street and rode. One crash. Two crashes. Then he RODE the bike. He breaked. He put his foot down. No crash. He did it! And again. Then again. It was fantastic!

Later on, we went out to ride some more. That’s when I took these pictures. Lucas was riding his bike when Ian came home from work, so Ian got to see him in action.

These pictures do not adequately convey how FAST he is! We are so PROUD of him.
 

When working late on a Sunday night editing shitty writing featuring commas sprinkled like confetti (apparently there only for decoration) and subject matter that is violent and monotonous and goofy all at the same damned time, at least I can drink smooth, velvety red wine. I couldn’t do that at my old corporate job. 

See, I’m stickin’ it to the Man, one sip, one comma at a time.

 
Yesterday Asher was playing in his crib. Then he got up on his knees! I ran to get the camera. We expect him to crawl soon.

Then, he surprised us!

    This is where I dropped the camera and ran to keep him from toppling over the edge. He’s rather top-heavy and would have gone right over! Time to lower the crib matress. Yikes!

Asher seems to enjoy our moments alone together, curled up in the big bed, post shower.  His skin is damp and fresh, toes wrinkled. His little mouth is open wide, waiting for the nursing that comes next. He grips my body with tight little fingers, sometimes squeezing too hard. He doesn’t know about hurting yet. He is smooth and plump, hair downy and thick, now, I see. Feet wiggle and toes grasp as though they don’t yet realize they aren’t fingers, too. Eskimos have got nothing on Asher’s kisses. Big, slobbery, whole-face rubs tell me I’m his beloved. His arms go around my neck and he pulls the back of my hair so hard I’m forced to come close. His mouth tries to close over my nose, his eyes squint and he squeals his urgency to hold on. I think it’s instinct; he clutches at me for safety, food, and love. He doesn’t judge me. He’s comfortable in my curves. They are home to him. We are nose to nose, cooing at each other, with nothing in between us, until a little foot intrudes and he brings his toes to his mouth. He is a ball of roly-poly boy, folding himself any which way, practicing and exploring. He smiles when I warm the sweet-smelling lotion and rub it into his skin. Asher accepts his massage as if it were his due; the Universe bestows pleasing experiences on him as a matter of course. He expects it, and this makes me happy because he knows no other negative experience. He babbles and hoots and hollers. His breath quickens and blue eyes sparkle when I produce the silk and let it flutter down on him. He knows the game. The silk is warm to our touch and he pulls it off his smiling face. He’s expecting my greeting and he delights in it as if we’ve been apart longer than just the moment he’s been covered. When the breeze blows through the window, he sucks it in greedily. Fresh air, soft bed, warm cuddles, and milk: these sensations define our alone time. He complains when I dress him.

Have a couple of moments just now. More aliens and ninja are on their way and will arrive in my inbox soon.
We had a really nice weekend. I didn’t have to work too much, and that was a treat. 

We have been feathering our nest, so to speak.

 Aliens and Ninja and Zombies! Oh My!

Morning. Lucas is at school. Ian’s at a big meeting downtown. Asher is asleep for the moment. I’m enjoying my second cup of coffee and procrastinating on chapter 5.

It’s been a good but busy week. Getting back to the school-year daily schedule has been challenging for me. It feels limiting to have to be home and have Lucas in bed by 8 p.m. My own body/mind is on a 24-hour clock these days, by which I mean that I’m not always asleep during normal sleeping hours, not always working during normal working hours, and not always relaxing during normal relaxing hours. (It makes sense to me, but probably isn’t comprehendible by others.) 

I finished two jobs on Tuesday. I’m wrestling with one now and another one is about to flood in again, on the weekend, after a hiatus that was beyond my control. I’m honestly a little tired, but don’t have the time to rest.

Asher’s will is coming through more these days. He very clearly expresses displeasure whenever I leave his sight. This is the start of separation anxiety, which is unfortunate because I now feel a few hours away from him would do me a lot of good.  

He’s starting to rock back and forth on his butt and lean waaaaaay out in front to reach for things or to suck on his toes. He basically folds himself in half to do this. I hope, hope, hope that he’ll wait at least another two months before he crawls, but I can tell he’s contemplating the benefits of mobility and practicing movements and strengthening his core. He’s complaining less when placed on his tummy now; he pops up and lifts his upper body with his arms to look around.  He has decided that it’s cool to drop things onto the floor. 

Asher is also very interested in food: So far he’s had apples, broccoli, carrots, sweet potatoes, butternut squash & corn, bananas, avocadoes, plums, and rice cereal. He clearly prefers the fruits to the veggies, but I persevere. I’m making most of it myself, which is cool because I can make it with organic produce and breastmilk or water, so I know exactly what is in his food. We are still breastfeeding lots, which makes me happy. It’s getting easier now, as Ian can feed Asher baby food if I’m away when he gets hungry.  

I’m tired. Too tired to be socially outgoing. Too tired to reach out to friends. Seems kind of pointless to do so when I know they are all busy beyond comfort. Sometimes I get tired of being the one to reach out; I have quite a few friendships for which that is the norm. I’m trying to stay in the present and enjoy small things–little moments of peace like this one, little accomplishments, little victories.  The fall is coming, which leads me to indulge in moody thoughts and wistful fantasies that don’t much resemble my real life. The crazy is coming. I can feel it in the air.

Oh. There’s the baby …

EDIT:  Just to clarify: the relationships for which I feel I am the primary reacher-outer are not with the dear people who read my LJ. I’m talking about friendships that are in some cases newer and/or outside of family. I didn’t write that to make anyone feel accused or guilty.

  
My nature boys in Tahoe at Echo Lake. (Asher is in the backpack sleeping.)

Asher at six months exactly (in these next three pictures).

Toes are especially yummy.

First touch of sand. August 11, 2007.

“This is the best day of my life!” 
“Why?”
“I get to do lowercase letters!”
 

Today is also the first day of school, but Lucas is home sick instead. The irony is clear to me. He’s “working” on his “homework,” which is a skill building book for mainstream school readiness. We gave it to him because he’s internally motivated to work on letters, color the pictures, and connect the dots, etc.  It gives him his own “chapters” to work on beside me while I work on editing chapters.