Last year for my birthday, NoNoSays gave me a beautiful pink hydrangea in a 4-inch pot. I planted it in my front yard in a partly shady spot and it has easily quadrupled in size. Its leaves are a charming light green and it’s just beginning to bloom in time for my birthday again.

When I was a little girl, we had a clump of irises in the front yard near our mean neighbors’ house. I rarely visited that side of our yard because the neighbors had big, mean dogs, teenaged mean boys, and a pinched, mean mommy. Every year, though, right around my birthday in May, those irises would burst into the most magnificent purple you ever saw. My mother called them my birthday flower, and over the years, whenever I would begin to get antsy and excited about my impending birthday, she would say, “Go check your birthday flower and see how it’s doing. If it’s blooming it’s your birthday.” For several weeks of the year, I would brave daily visits to that side of the yard to check the progress of the buds.

I’m very happy to have a beautiful birthday flower again. Next week, the day after my birthday, NoNo graduates from CSU Sacramento with a coveted and hard-won design degree. I know that pink hydrangea is blooming for both of us. Thank you, NoNo, and congratulations!  

Friday

Working, Asher at babysitters’ house, May Day celebration at Lucas’s school, potluck lunch, Lucas at babysitters’ for afternoon, hair appointment to become more fabulous, 4:30 p.m. vodka and seven, visit with my mom, Ian home from work with more fixings, dinner out, carboliscious Mexican food including nachos and a fajita burrito, evening visit to Chicken Park, bedtime rituals, fell asleep with each of my kids in turn.

Yesterday

Shopping for mom, trip to Lowe’s garden store to purchase new plants, Ian’s labor (shirt off, mattock swinging, digging holes), Lucas’s helping, coreopsis, primrose, orange honeysuckle, purple fountain grass, artemesia, foxgloves, marguerites, agapanthus, muddy baby, sex-on-the-beach cocktails, leftover pork tenderloin and salad, bedtime rituals, TV, lovemaking, snoring. 

Today

Awake at o-dark-thirty, nursing and listening to birdsong, snoozing, Lucas’s 6 a.m. temper tantrum, later in bed alone reading Dr. Doolittle, coffee, receiving handmade gift from Lucas (a heart-shaped necklace made of wet-felted wool and yarn) lax and cream-cheese omelet and breakfast sausage, champagne, brief visit from mom and dad, fancy soaps for my mother, hot tubbing with all of my boys, lunch at Ian’s mom and stepfather’s with Aunt Kellie, VoVo, and DeeDee, fancy necklace for grandma, Lucas swimming, breezy back porch time, Asher throwing the ball for the dog to fetch, Lucas’s temper tantrum, grumpy ride home, nap for me and Asher, chess and a Mary Poppins chapter for Lucas and daddy, waking up, playing outside, crab cakes, more sex-on-the-beach, homemade chicken dinner, crying baby, Lucas in bed early, blogging, and … if I am really lucky, soon sleeping baby, Eskimo kisses, toe nibbles, and spooning.

Happy Mother’s Day!

(I promised myself I’d finish this post before Lucas’s birthday.)

Dear Asher,

Today you are 15 months old. I have mentally started this letter to you a thousand times since you turned one three months ago. I can’t really explain why I haven’t really written it until now, except to say that I’m sort of speechless when I think about expressing to you all I feel about you and your first year of life.

So I’ll just dive in, and let the words come higgledy-piggledy as they may. Perhaps I’ll sort them out later on. Perhaps not.

You are a dream come true. You are not the dream I thought you would be, but I’m more in love with you than I thought possible. This is amazing to me. It fills me with overwhelming joy to find myself besotted with you, adoring you, treasuring you. There was a dark moment before your arrival when I wondered if I could. Now I know it’s all OK. We are fine. We are as we were meant to be. I know this is only the first of many important lessons you will teach me.

At 12 months, you were always happy, easy-going, and adaptable, so long as I wasn’t too far away. Your smile was like sunshine and your laugh completely contagious. They still are now, but now, at nearly 15 months, we see another side to your personality. Now you are very good at showing your displeasure when something is bothering you. Now you tell us so clearly what you want and how you want it. Now we see you experimenting with a greater range of moods and expressions. You have a pout that is beyond adorable. You have a glower that would be truly intimidating, if it weren’t so funny: eyes glaring out from beneath knitted brows, lowered head, pouty mouth sometimes featuring a prominently jutting lower lip. What is amazing is how long you can maintain this go-to-hell look. (There is a photography of me as a very young girl wearing Oakland Raiders pajamas and the exact same go-to-hell look. Whenever you flash this look at my parents, they get all nostalgic for the days when I was small and prissy.) You seem to have a stubborn streak in you that may ultimately rival your brother’s. You also seem to have the capacity to hold a grudge for quite a while. Now you throw tantrums when things don’t go the way you want them to, like if we take something away from you, such as a sharp knife or a tiny LEGO piece.

Most of the time, however, you are happy. You are playful and initiate games with us and with Lucas. You still love peekaboo, though it’s not the Ultimate Game it was a few months ago. You like people to chase you through the house, saying “I’m gonna get you!” in a singsong voice. You laugh like crazy when we play chase.

You crawl so fast now! I keep thinking you will walk any day now, but I keep being wrong about that. I suppose I will be wrong until the day I’m finally right! Anyway, it’s impressive how quickly you can cross the room. Sometimes you chase after balls or a pacifier. Sometimes you’re rushing toward me to be scooped up and spun around and nuzzled.

We spend a fair amount of time outdoors now that the weather is so beautiful. You bravely explore the backyard, navigating steps, crossing bark-filled planters, sitting on my flowers. You seem to like the grass lawn and the bark a lot. I see you scratching your little fingernails into the earth at every opportunity. You love coming across a puddle of water from my garden hose. You sit in it, splash, and hoot your pleasure, signing over and over again “water!” The sign is often accompanied by your saying “wa wa wa” as your hands touch your lips.

Your signing is blooming into a truly useful method of communication. I’m so pleased that you are able to make your needs and wants known by using signs. You’re a little inconsistent sometimes still, and you sometimes confuse them, but more often than not now you perform a babyish variation on the signs we’ve taught you. Let’s see … you now use these signs: water, eat, more, milk (sometimes), dog, hat, cold, phone (you made this one up yourself), please (rarely), pluggie (rarely), fish, cookie/cracker. Just today you began signing for “meat.”

You also communicate with a whole range of whoops and hoos and finger pointing. The clever combo of the sign for “more” and strategic pointing usually makes it clear what you want. This combo is very often “more phone,” “more water,” or “more mommy.” Basically, “more” also functions as “I want.” You’re saying “Hi!” with waving now, particularly if you see a child or a beautiful woman pass by. You smile charmingly as if to say, “How you doin’?” You don’t say goodbye yet, but you do wave whenever it becomes clear that someone is leaving, or that we are leaving other people.

Although it used to be very simple feeding you, now your eating is unpredictable. Some days you want only finger foods, or “real” food; other days, you seem to prefer eating only baby food purées. I think your favorite foods are peculiar in one so young as you: onions, meat, strawberries, broccoli, freeze dried apples, peanut butter, stir-fried veggies such as bean sprouts and celery. And things that most babies love, such as bananas and avocados, seem to gross you out. Some days you’ll eat rice, others not. You get a horrified look on your face every time I offer you diluted juice, so I’m thinking you don’t have much of a sweet tooth yet. Which is just fine by me. I had better go cook up some onions for you.

We are having some trouble with your rough hands these days. You delight in pinching my tender spots, especially my breasts and nipples, and frankly, it hurts like hell. I know you think of these items as your own personal property, but they are mine too. We talk a lot about having “gentle hands” and using “soft touches,” but you don’t seem to care to follow our advice. It’s awful when you’re drifting off to sleep (which is my objective) and you knead my skin in your talon-tipped hands until I’m crazy from the pain and irritation. But since I want you to be sleeping, I try to bravely survive it. Sometimes I fail and jump up shouting “Ow! Ow! Ow! Cut it out, Dammit!” This is not a good nap-promoting strategy.

You also hit your brother sometimes or pull his hair. This is largely due to Lucas’s weird need to put his head on you as often as possible. I watch him approach your face with his own, and see you grimace and try to lean away. I think he wants to love on you and cuddle you as much as the rest of us do. Sometimes you’re willing to tolerate his affections. In fact, just yesterday I saw him lean in and you gave him the most giant hug around his head and kissed him in your slobbery way on his cheek.

Shades of sibling rivalry do appear sometimes, however. The worst is when Lucas climbs into my lap or into my bed to snuggle me. God forbid if he gets between you and me! You squeal and whine and cry and try to kill him for touching your mommy. We’re always telling you, “I’m Lucas’s mommy, too, Asher. You have to share, just like he has to share.” Then we spend some time reassuring Lucas that you don’t realize you’re being mean and stingy. You’re just a baby. The great thing about Lucas is that even if he gets angry with you, he rarely holds a grudge against you for more than a moment. It’s really rather remarkable how much he is willing to forgive. Truly, you have the best big brother ever.

What I love is how you show affection to me. Sometimes you reach up and put your hands on either side of my face. You hold my face so tenderly and bring your own forehead close to touch mine. When you hold me there, head to head like that, I feel really loved. I can’t explain why you do this, but somehow you’ve come to associate  bonking foreheads gently as an expression of loving devotion. Which is fine, most of the time. When you do it in the middle of the night—when you crawl over me while I’m sleeping and slam your noggin into mine, waking me out of a sound sleep with searing pain—I don’t like it so much then.

So far, you really seem to like other children. When we go to our “Mommy Baby” class, you love to say “Hi” to the other babies and want to touch their faces. Yesterday we were there and you really owned the room. Your behavior was different, as though you finally decided you felt completely comfortable there. You explored every nook and cranny, swept toys of the shelves, got into the tree blocks, and cuddled every Waldorf-style baby doll before biting it in the head. You strutted your new talents (briefly standing unaided) and flirted with the teacher and all the mommies. It was as though you decided to put on all your charm and have a great time. You really seem to like Willow, the cute little girl who visited our house last week with her mom Peggy. You played nicely with Cameron and Gavin and Noah, too. When we visited the farm, you got super excited when we stood by the sheep enclosure and by the chickens. You rapidly signed “dog” repeatedly while whooping with pleasure. At this point, every animal you see is a dog to you.

So, yeah. Standing up is the big deal these days. You can walk a little if we take your hands and help you balance, but you don’t like to do it for long. You know, though, that these new skills are important because we make a big deal out of them, clapping and praising you and telling you how big you are now. You look so proud of yourself. I honestly thought you’d be walking by now, but you seem to be on your own timetable. Given how fast you crawl, I guess walking from place to place would really slow you down.

You are brilliant, too. I am constantly amazed at what you already know. You seem to have figured out the use of nearly every household object. You know that keys should be inserted into locks, that the computer mouse makes the pictures on the monitor change, that the spoon is for stirring. You know what the TV remote does, and how to turn on or change the TV station if the remote had been hidden from you. You know exactly what button to push on the DVD player to make the disc eject. You know what a hairbrush is for and what a toothbrush is for. You adore the phone more than anything else and have figured out its major buttons, including speaker phone. You sit placidly for long stretches flipping the pages of books like a lifelong reader. If you try really hard, you can even use table utensils appropriately. It’s weird to realize that you really are watching everything we do with every object all the time. You learn by watching us, which reminds me to be on my best behavior.

There is more to say. I should talk about cosleeping with you, going places with you, how you’re now into everything and much mischief. But perhaps I’ll save those things for later. I suppose I wasn’t speechless after all.

Asher, I love you completely and forever.

Mama.

P.S. I’m sorry I forgot the camera when we went to your first dental checkup.

Today was spectacular! And to prove it, I submit this evidence to the court: It’s 8:30 p.m. and all three of my boys are sound asleep. That’s how much fun we had.

Our hot tub is working again and some lovely people showed up to try it out. The weather was warm and beautiful and our friends stayed all day long. Champagne was imbibed. Children and adults frolicked. I relaxed. It ended with scrumptious sushi. Simply perfect. 

Let the summer come. I am ready.

I’ve just finished a small copyediting project about Syria. It was interesting and thankfully short. Arabic names are a bitch; transliteration produces all manner of variant spellings. I did not make a ton of money on the book and worked harder on it than I’ve worked on most projects in the last … um … six months or so, but as my freelance work has been spotty over the last several months, I’m grateful to have had the project. Now I am more convinced than ever that peace in that region of the globe is hopeless, although that was not the message of the book. 

I’m experiencing a lot of internal conflict over work and what I’m supposed to be doing with my time. On the one hand, I have a voracious appetite for work. I like working. I find it stimulating and rewarding. I like concentrating and solving problems, unraveling knots of words into a single, easy-to-follow thread. I like challenging myself and learning new things, which is truly the beauty of the work I do: Every project is different. There is always something to learn. And getting paid to work on books that I wouldn’t normally pick up to read for pleasure has the added bonus of forcing me to learn about things I’m not necessarily naturally inclined to learn about. It broadens my horizons, so to speak. Whenever I speak to other freelancer friends, I’m impressed by what they are doing, by how many clients they have, by how much hustling, networking, and marketing they do, by how much they work/earn (although direct conversation about money is rare). I’m impressed by their drive and ambition and success. I yearn for the same. I yearn to do more, earn more, learn more, be more. My immediate impulse at this moment is to email all my clients and ask for more work.

And yet …

I’m equally motivated by the needs of my family. I have two small people who can’t get along five minutes without me (or so it often seems). I have thoroughly enjoyed Asher’s babyhood thus far. Sometimes I get to take naps with him. We look at books together. We listen to music. In the afternoons when Lucas is home and not at the babysitters’, we enjoy the outdoors, go to the library, visit my grandmother, take walks, do art projects. These things are fun and fulfilling. I know that my children will grow up quickly. I am not willing to miss these early years. I think they do best when they are with me, and I’m grateful to have a supportive (literally and figuratively) husband and a profession that allows me so much flexibility to be with my kids. I also know that I would be a miserable wreck of a mother if I had to ship my children off to daycare full-time. I wussed out at the prospect of part-time daycare back in 2003 and have never looked back since. Some days I am able to slow down my brain and watch the butterflies drift across the yard. Some days I can take great pleasure in washing the dishes by hand with Lucas. I try to cultivate patience and peace by watching good things grow—vegetables, messes, and boys. They grow slowly. I am unable (and unwilling) to speed up the time. And so, my world turns slowly. 

Sometimes that slowness—the drowzy and dizzying days of taking care of children—is a welcome balm. And sometimes it makes me grit my teeth and feel corralled.

There is a metaphor about marriage that is a better metaphor for raising children. Ian and I have “hitched” ourselves to a cart full of precious cargo. We did it on purpose. We must ensure the cargo’s safe delivery to (hopefully) a happy and productive adulthood. We must choose our path carefully and not deviate from it randomly or without consideration. We must go slowly and steadily so as not to jostle or damage the cargo, or bounce it out and leave it by the wayside. We must make frequent rest stops and potty breaks. And although we might wish to run off together without the cart and cargo, we basically can’t—at least not until the cargo gets much farther down the path, and then only for a short break. And the cart won’t travel nearly so well with only one of us pulling, so we are hitched. It’s a good kind of hitched.

*Sigh*

Too busy to write lately, I suppose. Actually, I think I’m stuck on something I want to write about, but here’s a brief recap of some recent stuff.

* I finally have some editing work and a deadline coming this Wednesday. One project is a copyedit for a book on Syria for the 6th-12th grade market. It’s got me hoppin’ a bit and doesn’t pay well, but hey. I took it. It’s been good dusting off my brain a bit. Arabic naming conventions are puzzling—either that or my two authors are wildly inconsistent.

* Had a crisis last Monday related to being sick. I have a big post about that brewing, but suffice it to say it has a happy ending. I have learned a lot recently.

* Lucas is back in school, Thank God! He seems to be all better now. We’re starting the probiotics.

* Despite being busy with my projects and working a fair piece of it, I’ve had a terrific weekend. Yesterday we got to meet up and picnic with sundayhangover, foseelovechild, and grlfury. I ate strawberries and bits of apple (heaven!) and drank champagne. The weather was perfect both yesterday and today. Today, we were invited to go kayaking with my brother and his girlfriend, Boo. We are so getting into kayaking as soon as the boys are a tad bit older. Actually, Lucas is ready now. Asher may have to stay home for a while yet. My dad came out to the lake with us and stayed with Asher on shore so the rest of us could go paddling under the Folsom Rainbow bridge. It was so cool and beautiful on the water. I always feel so much better about life when I can get out under the sky, breathe deeply, and remember that my problems are small in comparison with the great, big, beautiful world.

* My hubby is super handy! He fixed a switch and two outdoor light boxes on our house that have never worked. He installed two new fixtures and they’re really pretty. We have more to put up that will all match and our backyard patio will be ready for summer nights. (Now we must get the hot tub fixed!)

Hi folks. Just a quick note to say we’re home safe and sound. We had an easy drive over the summit and down the hill today. Only one 20-minute traffic delay due to road work. We left the cabin at around noon; it was sunny and the snow was melting quickly and falling in spectacular splatty splashes off the tree limbs. We had a yummy lunch in Placerville and trooped around town on foot for a while to stretch our legs. (Attention Yarn Hos: Lofty Lou’s is a nice shop! http://www.knit.us/)

Now it’s rustle-Lucas-off-to-bed-time so he can get to school tomorrow. 
 

It has been snowing steadily for days. In the almost-week that we’ve been here, I think we’ve received at least three feet of snow. It is both inspiring and challenging. Somehow the snowy landscape makes me feel contemplative. And hungry, but whatever.Our lovely friends kittiliscious, her man J, and mrplanet4 left this morning to make their way home. Ian and I have decided that it will be better for all of us if we take an extra day to wait out this big storm and not try to transport two bored little boys over the summit and home again while fighting weather and traffic the whole time. I’m happy with 2-hour drives home; I’m not at all crazy about 4-hour drives. I keep staring out the window and marveling at how ethereal the woods look. The light is bluish and it makes the evergreens look nearly black. Both the sky and the ground are the same brilliant white. Heavy pillows of snow burden every limb and branch. The palette is completely monochromatic. The road is invisible, despite the snowplow’s several daily visits. Two-foot icicles hang from the eaves; their shape is spiraled, like unicorn horns. Inside we are snug and warm. Our kitchen is well-stocked with food, so we could easily stay another several days if we needed to. We have everything to make our stay comfortable, including a clothes washer and dryer and dishwasher. We just ran out of vodka, however.  We have passed many happy hours this week playing in the snow, taking walks or “trudges,” playing games, drawing, sewing, creating toys, and reading. Lucas was thrilled to have our friends join us, for they provided a patient (sometimes eager) audience for him. He strove to impress them with his skills, his expertise, his humor, and his antics. I am amazed at his ability to interact with adults. He can be suave: “Kat, you could come and sit beside me, if you want.” He can be charming: “Justin, that was so fun riding on the saucer yesterday. It was awesome! Do you want to pull me along like that now?” He can act so grown up: “Don’t disturb me right now. I’m doing important homework and I can’t be disturbed.” Asher was nervous when we first arrived, but has settled into these surroundings beautifully. I was very happy that he hasn’t been especially attracted to the gas stove in the middle of the main room as it’s been on almost constantly and it’s very hot. It took him several days, but yesterday he realized that he was capable of climbing the stairs all the way to the top floor where we’ve all been sleeping. He was so proud of himself when he reached the top landing, he clapped for himself and squealed. Since then, he’s done it a bunch of times, and I wonder what it must be like to crawl up stairs like that: What if I encountered a staircase like this in the same scale? Would I want to climb it over and over again? Every new accomplishment delights him. He is learning at every moment. Asher is not walking yet, but is beginning to “creep” along while leaning on the furniture. He is fascinated with the snow that he can see outside, but is not too keen on touching it. He despises his snowsuit, but seems to like the snowflakes falling on his face.  Today when we went out to play, Asher seemed to be more comfortable in the snow, sitting in it and batting at it. There’s so much powder I can easily imaging putting him down and losing him in a drift. We have our Ergo carrier with us; obviously a stroller is pretty much useless. But man, with all the snow gear on us and on Asher, he’s really hard to lug around. For a brief time we were able to put Lucas on a saucer and Asher on Lucas and tow them along the road. We received a few dazzling smiles from both of them as a reward for our effort. Lucas is very brave, even when he slips and falls on the ice. He enjoys saucering a lot. It’s clear that his smaller body must work harder to plow through the snow drifts. He presses on because he wants to squeeze as much fun out of the experience as possible. His face glows with melted snowflakes and rosy cheeks. But when he tires, emotions run high and he demands hot cocoa. I am so happy that we can spend time in this glorious landscape and give him this experience.  

We are up at the cabin in South Lake Tahoe right now. Have been since Tuesday afternoon. It’s been totally lovely—snow keeps falling and blanketing the world. Lucas was a little sick for a while, but he’s better now. Some beautiful friends have joined us for the weekend. They’re all outside playing at the moment. I’m stuck inside because Asher’s napping. S’OK though because he’s sweet. I’ll post more about our week up here later on.

I’ve done a bit of work on and off this week, but nothing too strenuous. I’m trying to figure out what direction I want my career to move in. I’m pondering some possibilities while wondering where my next freelance gig will come from. I can tell you this: I like being unplugged from a corporate schedule and I have a hard time imagining ever going back to one. Working in the mountains, when I choose to, sure beats a daily commute to Cubesville. 

It’s funny when the winds of change blow into town. So much of my life is carefully circumscribed right now. It’s hard to know what is just a momentary wish and what might be a deeper yearning for real change.

Work at the magazine this week went well. I was brave and gracious. I talked to all my (ex-) coworkers about the changes at the magazine and my services as proofreader being discontinued. At least to my face everyone was sorry about it and regretful. The editor promises me that I’m the one they’ll call back when the economics are better. She referred to having me working on the magazine a “luxury.” Probably what will happen is that the in-house people will be asked to work more and harder. An editorial employee who is my friend also got cut: She still has a job, but they demoted her to receptionist (and canned the receptionist they had) and cut my friend’s pay. A few other people in different departments were affected (i.e., let go). They have also cut their freelance budget by what sounds to me like a big number, but given that I have no idea what the budget was or what it is now, it’s hard for me to say.

So, we’ll see. I guess they gotta do what they gotta do to stay healthy and weather the economic changes in the region. I must say though, it’s kind of ironic (correct word choice?) that I consistently read about all the wonderful, progressive, exciting things that are happening in this town in the pages of this magazine, which is presently reacting to an economic downturn. Anyway, Monday will be my last day there.

I’ve come to find the silver lining in this change: It’s kinda hard on Asher to have me leave him with a sitter or grandma for 3 to 4 days in a row, when the rest of the month he’s with me constantly. He has survived, of course, but by Friday evening, it was clear that he wanted and needed some mama time. Now I won’t have to do that anymore. I will still need babysitting, but I can arrange it on my own terms and hopefully establish a more consistent rhythm for him—one that he can actually get used to—that doesn’t have 27 days between sets of sitter days. As he is coming into The Great Separation Anxiety Stage, this will be easier on him.

Last Thursday, my father turned 62. That is hard to believe. In my mind, he is still 40. He probably will always be that age in my mind. A friend recently lost her father to cancer. He was older than my dad is—a doctor who practiced medicine up until his end. I can see how hard losing her last parent has been on her. Her plight has inspired some morbid thoughts.

I am thoroughly enjoying the drawing classes that Ian and I are taking on Thursday nights. The teacher is teaching in a loose, intuitive way, which sometimes works and sometimes doesn’t. But the true gift of the class is that we 1) leave our home and kids and assorted real-life distractions, 2) go to a studio/gallery where we are surrounded by art and things to draw, and 3) there are two and a half glorious hours with nothing else to do except drink tea. We are hoping to continue the classes for the next couple of months, or for as long as our babysitters are willing to watch our kidlings. Ian has really caught the bug. He’s been practicing at home, which is wonderful to see because while he’s drawing, he’s not worrying. I love this guy so much. I hate to see him worried. It has been very good for us to have this time together and share this artistic pursuit. I can’t wait to paint!

My brother and his girlfriend, Courtney, recently got back from a vacation in Mexico. It sounds like they had a super time. I think this is Jonathan’s first serious vacation in years. I’m happy for them both. I just love seeing them together and it is my sincerest hope that they continue to make each other happy.

We spent a lovely couple of hours with friends last night. It was refreshing and made me so happy to see them.