Walk like an Indian

Remembering in elementary school, maybe first grade during "Indian" week, we learned that Native Americans could walk so softly, so gently on the earth that no one could hear them coming. That struck a chord with leetle B & she would walk around at home & the playground always trying to step so softly that not a sound would be heard. It was always impossible then - always there was a sound.

Recently when creeping out of A's baby room in a middle of the night re-binky the thought occurred, "walk like an Indian." Something that hadn't been in the conscious mind since the playground in elementary school & she was struck simultaneously by what you remember from your sometimes odd childhood history lessons, how having a tiny baby brings back so many forgotten memories, and even more by how tremendously grounding it is to be a mamacita.

Now with a little concentration she walks soundlessly all the way out of the room. It's the Secret Soundless Garden of Sand Point.

Becoming Adept at Distilling

Once in awhile you hear that becoming a parent makes you a better person. That's very abstract pre-parenthood, but now, as a parent, B feels like there are a few tangibles to attach to that statement. She's a much better human for the environment now that she tries to take her weekday showers in under 5 minutes versus the years of before motherhood showers that drained all the hot water from the tank. But besides that, there is this general sense of a purpose larger than yourself, and that you need to fit your life to include this new person, but that could even apply to this or that new transformative process or endeavor.

If you've ever been like B & wondered how people could be super civically active or great musicians or whatever, it seems, in the unfolding of parenthood, to be as simple as distilling your life down to doing absolutely whatever it is that you need to do, change a diaper or the world, every minute. That definitely doesn't mean that every minute you're cramming things into your life, but rather that you've shifted your mental process to this on-going, split second decision-making about what's the priority now. Perhaps thats the meaning of conscious living or mindfullness, but through parenting there's this great necessity for it that was before less noticeable. It was admittedly wacky in the beginning of parenthood to realize that you had to decide some moments between sleep, food and showering, and that actually only one was necessary & choosing the right one made all the difference. Now it's easy for B to decide I need to eat more than to shower at this minute of the morning, or conversely, I need to shower more than I'm hungry to feel refreshed. When you're sort of egotistically living for yourself, in a very normal way, you can be very passive about such decisions, but when you include a passion for learning the saxophone in your life, or a new baby, you have to decide which of the bare necessitities you need at that moment to enable you to concentrate on your instrument, or play with your baby, at the drop of the hat. It's truly a great game, especially when you want to be spontaneously gleeful as much as possible when you meet your instrument so the music is as real & creative as you think it should be. It could be like parenting teaches you how to distill your life into jazz, and by virtue of just living that way, you are a better person. Thanks A for making us rise and fall to these loveable challenges.

Our Anniversary, An End of the Endless quarter, Father's Day & Steve's Birthday

June has been a big month. We kicked it off with our 1 year anniversary on Monday, June 1st. It was a quiet evening at home, but we enjoyed an entire Netflick while baby slept. Afraid it may have been Don't Mess with the Zohan, but we did get a few laughs. Unlike the following flick, Benjamin Button which devolved into a total cryfest for B who can not watch a sad movie about a baby at all since being pregnant, even saddness alluding to babydom sends her into a box of Kleenex.

S finally completed the longest quarter ever. It was so dramatic with an entire class group project, aka. 297, and an intense Unreal (game dev engine for you noobs) seminar, 112. Only 10 days of break and he'll be back at it, which at this point means this coming Monday. But luckily it's his final class in this program before graduating! Woo-hoo!

Father's day was punctuated by brunch at Enotria. A's first Italian restaurant, and she was a banner baby. She enjoyed the live jazz and the mirrored wall. We thought the food was average, but it was quiet and the ambiance was nice. To celebrate her own foodie skills, A, enjoyed acorn squash for the first time.

Finally, Wednesday, 6/24 was S's final birthday in the 20s, which was the occasion for A & B's first outing to Trophy UVillage. There they bought 6 of 10 flavors, and were joined by The Johnsons, Mrs. Duncan Korst and Ms. Balk of Spinasse for appetizers and cupcakes that evening at the condo. Yippee! A enjoyed green beans for the first time on her Daddy's birthday.

S & B were later the next day declared ill and grumpy with headaches and B with the awful bout of nausea plus the unpleasant ending of nausea. A is still trying to decide if she wants to sleep less or more. It's always a tough call in life. To sleep or to get up... and as always, summer in Seattle slips by like a New York minute.

Tomorrow, off to the U District to pick up some peas for A's next cuisine in the key of green adventure, and Grandma C is planning on watching A so that S & B can enjoy Transformers 2. Their first movie out since Grandma S babysat for Coraline.

Sublime in the Springtime

Magnuson Park is transforming from the wild, underutilized sanctuary it was when B first considered it her Seattle home park ten years ago. First discovered when she relocated from 3 years of life on the Ave (or one block off) to the radically quiet Sandpoint neighborhood. Now Magnuson's got some fancy new playfields with highpowered lights, and they've cleaned up some of the brush, and the foot traffic there has increased considerably, but on a day like today, it's still as perfect as ever.

Ever since it's gotten above 40 and every single morning it isn't raining B and A set off. A in the Bjorn, B hoping A will be bjornized, that is, take a nap on the go. This morning it was at 9:30 when they set off. A couple of moms and kiddos were at play in the playfield, but just passed the playfield, almost no one was to be found. It was a perfect ~65 degrees, the sun was that most excellent kind of high in the sky springtime sunshine, and Rainier was peaking out, just a little hazily, around every bend.

In under 15 minutes, the almost ubiquitous white noise of outdoors in the AM lulled A to a deep and solid rest that lasted for 1 1/2 hours. B dug her 'so much fun this is not a workout' fitness regime of walking around with a 17 lb featherweight, drinking in the sounds she normally wouldn't have noticed. Rhythm of life only registered now for her gratitude in their ability to help baby sleep peacefully. The hum of airplanes, water, wind, mowers, birds and dogs barking, a girl and a boy stumbling through the theme song of Laverne and Shirley, an elderly couple whispering hello, while Tiny snoozed peacefully. These days at the park are easily those precious moments in life where everything is just exactly as it should be and life is just as grand in its simplisity as it can possibly be.

And when we get home S is back from work and tells Tiny that he knows Mommy and she have been to the park because they smell like wet dogs again. Something about walking by the water (or is it the proximity to the dog park?) has that effect, but it's worth it, and well they don't smell it anyhow. Grounded has never been so good.

Shedding

Spring is around the bend, a somewhat snowy bend today for April. God's April Fool's joke was snow in Seattle on 4/1. And B realizes that there's a whole lot of shedding going on. The cat's shedding. The white fur on the black rug. A's shedding her newborn status. 12 weeks old and on the verge of three months she notices so much more of life. Sleep isn't the same for her. Her sleep patterns at night have changed dramatically. She wakes up so much more, and is considerably harder to coax to sleep day or night. We woke up every 45 minutes last night. What an adventure that was. It seems mostly because she wants to absorb and take in everything around her and is so aware of every sensation.

But B is shedding too. Not just the post-pregnancy hair either, but there is that. But she's left behind the physical trauma of birth, the anemia, and most of the pounds too. She's not at newmom anymore. She's come into Mom. And with those mom colored horn-rims noticing how very rapidly this phase of Tiny Baby's life is going by. The phase where both hands can be held in the magical way that relieves all of TB's nighttime anxiety with just one of her parent's hands.

How great it is to be a parent. The enlivening that enables the shedding of your cynicism and discovery each day of small wonders, like how incredible and even powerful it is to hold hands. And wondering why do we do it so infrequently in our daily lives. Too bad S has homework, and A is asleep. B is left empty handed, but not for long...I think I hear the baby stirring.

Count down

Last post was cut short by a faulty keyboard that recovered after being blown out with compressed air. Perhaps the move was a bit much for the old board. Well only 3 years old, but in tech terms, fairly antiquated. It's back and A's down for a nap so time to catch up. There are only 3 complete days left of B's parental leave. It's taking a certain amount of fortitude not to panic. It's not really tears so much as rational frustration and anger that she feels. After these few short weeks, she's suddenly, as in 3 days ago, figured out the daytime formula that works so well for A. Nights have been great for weeks, but days had been rough. Now, A, B and S have found a perfect harmony, and on the 4th day, St. Patrick's Day, the days may be upended.

Well, it's not all doom and gloom in reality. It's actually just a slice of life. Once we discover the rhythm we like to dance and sing too, it changes slightly to keep us from being lulled into something...

Eleven eleven

If Snake Eyes is an unlucky dice roll, it seems the double of that, 1 1 1 1, is luckkkkkky. At least according to our pediatrician. She declared A's 11 lb 11 oz weight at her '2 month' check up a lucky#.