Baby Kesslers

my babies

2012-01-29T19:25:00.000-08:00

My babies are getting so big. The things that they say. The way they relate. To each other. To me. To their world. The other day Eliana was lamenting the fact that she didn't get to spend the day with Solomon. But mama! He's my one and only true love! Wow. There's a little princess-ease getting into the mix. But dang if it isn't sweet. And Soli. I asked him yesterday if the bath was too hot. No, warm, he replied. What? Warm? Where the heck did he get that vocabulary. And then an hour or so later I was singing Baby Beluga, like I do every night. "Is the water warm, is your mama home..." and there it was. Warm! They are just little sponges these kids. Sweet, squishy, adorable little sponges.

The weekend flew by. We are crazy right now with work and school and my upcoming performance. The school is getting accredited this week. Years of work coming down to one lengthy written report and three days in the physical space. Lots of pressure and intensity. Anxiety. We feel so passionately about our little school so to have a team from all over come with their microscope is intense, to say the least. But intensity can be fun. Always enlightening.

I love them all so much, the members of my little household. There wasn't enough down time together this weekend. Soli and I had a mama/son day yesterday which involved Target and Best Buy. Homeboy is not exactly the funnest dude to shop with (are dudes ever fun to shop with?) I thought he'd be all content to chill in the cart but...alas...he hurled himself in and out, ran down the aisles, laid himself out on counters, hurled random crap into the basket. He never stops moving, my Sol. I upgraded our ipod dock with money I don't have. Because I'm pretty sure the most beloved toy around these parts is music. And Lord knows I like to bust it loud. And so do my kids. So I bought a system that sounds good (thanks for the coaching, Mama!) and we did some really, really good jamming. Eliana's latest hit is, "Someone Like You" by Adele. You should see the way she shakes her head with vehemence on the line, "I want NOTHING but the best for you....". She's got an ear. And Sol's got the beat. My goal is to add a new song to their reportoire every weekend. Right now we're pretty stuck on Glee and Michael Franti (a total of three way overplayed songs...). But I'll take it. I'll take them.

They've only been in bed for eight minutes and I miss them already. Next week will bring more intensity, more business, more wild days. I want NOTHING but the best from them.

jasmine

2012-01-19T19:59:00.000-08:00

snow day

2012-01-19T19:32:00.001-08:00

Winter finally arrived in Western Montana. And I'm psyched. Which is kinda funny. Because I don't really miss the snow when it's not here. I love a sunny, warm, winter hike on Waterworks. But there is that magic with snow. That novel, beautiful magic that I've grown to count on. And while all my friends and neighbors are whoop whooping about the adventures they'll get to have on the ski hill, I'm just happy to get to look at it. Actually. I'll qualify that. I am psyched to take out my xx skis and have little adventures. I have a secret passion for the cross country ski adventures. The quiet. The solitude. The way it works your body and your brain with such harmony. Heck yeah! I'm psyched to ski! (Though I feel super goofy even typing that sentence...)

My double day highlight was skiing Lucy around the park and bumping into an old friend and her new baby. She too was on skis (except she was a little more badass than I, seeing as how she had a two month old baby strapped to her front and I just had a goofy mutt). Then after school, Eliana was invited to sled down the hill on the playground with her classmate. I realized she's never been on a sled. Her face as she swooshed down the hill was, perhaps, the best thing I've seen in a long time. God I wish I had had my phone in my pocket. Big dimples, wet curls flying, as she reared back, holding the yellow rope like it was the reigns on a wildly galloping horse.

School is cancelled tomorrow. That means I have the challenge, the privilege, of taking my children out into the snow. We won't stray too far, as this mama despises driving in the snow. But we could manage the sledding hill at school. Or, even simpler, the yard to make a snowman. Can you believe I've never made a snowman? It's time to step up to the snow plate!

I also imagine much of our day will be spent indoors, in our fiery imaginations. Eliana's new trick is to sing Disney songs on the coffee table and then jump on to the dog's bed whenever dramatically appropriate. The coffee table can be Aladdin and Jasmine's magic carpet or the depths of the blue sea where Ariel laments her lack of legs. This girl kills me. And, of course, Sol manages to jump off the table with the best of them, even though he's really short. Eliana also manages to spin him around, again, whenever dramatically appropriate. It's kinda scary. Thank goodness for the dog bed.

A typical fifteen minute foray into creative fun ends in all the pots and pans on the living room floor, a fight or two over who gets to hang in the laundry basket versus who gets to hang in the waste basket, pillows off all the sofas and weird, random objects in the strangest of places.

Eliana's is really into leaving artsy post-it notes up on the walls. And flying on door knobs while the doors swing. It's mayhem. Gorgeous, goofy, winter fun.

imagination

2012-01-15T19:59:00.000-08:00

It's been a lazy weekend. Lots of dress up and fort building. Long baths and lots of time with my novel. A perfect balance of time to myself and time with my crew. I adore that crew.

Don't have much to say, but I realized it had been a while since I've been here. My brain was so full post, "Sunshine Holiday." So much to process about where I'm from and who I am and where I am now. So many moments to re-live and savor.

The savoring d'jour this evening involves imagination. The power of the two insanely creative minds that I live with. My daughter's mainly. The fact that she moved from princess to ballerina to baker of a mother's day cake (the icing was made of her NightNight and Sol's softie, their beloved blankets folded neatly on top of the "cake" for me to enjoy) to impromptu pots and pans drummer to water color artist to bed jumper. The way she somehow manages to incorporate Soli into all of her games. The fact that he totally gets them, even if he can't articulate with the same eloquence.

She has the wildest little catch phrases...
Ah, mom, this is totally awesome, like, I am doing the most amazing dance ever right now! (Who's mama was a Valley Girl...)

And there seems to be an appropriate song to accompany every occasion...
Like singing R.Kelly's, "I Believe I Can Fly" while balancing on one leg on top of the dishwasher, touching the ceiling, her other arm out to the side, flapping like a wing. Nothing like that for a pre-coffee wake up greeting. When did she get so big and bright and...weird...

All Sol wants is to be a part of things, all the time. If she bonks her knee and moans and rubs, Sol is instantaneously whining and rubbing his knee. If she dresses in the Pooh suit, he dresses in the Pooh suit (ah, Jody, the good love those costumes receive).

Anything she eats, he wants. You should have seen him at sushi last night. Sucked the raw salmon right off the rice, just like his sister. Ah, sticky sushi poops.

And the underlying shadow to all this beauty of the little milestones, the little steps my little people take every day that distinguish them further from the teeny creatures that emerged from my belly, as their sentences grow longer, their independence more astute, while they grow brighter and more capable, their PopPop grows younger and younger, less articulate, less certain, less able to make his way. The circles of life seem to be spinning in all directions. That sassy, bright, vibrant superstar of a man who told me to, "Shit or get off the pot," the first time I met him when I took too long to play a Scrabble tile is fading out. It seems like just in the few weeks since we celebrated Christmas together, there's been a shift. Christmas a few weeks early with the Kesslers, Christmas when Sol kept ripping open gifts that weren't his, Eliana with her red sparkly new Mary Jane's and lots of, "Oooh this is soooo beautiful!" as she opened up her gifts from her Nana and PopPop. Pop had a smile on his face. Kept saying, "Oh, this is some guy!" about Solomon. Seemed to enjoy receiving and being.

Aging. I can't imagine what it's like in PopPop's brain right now. It must be so confusing. It's all so, so sad.

I remember my BFF in sixth grade doing a report on Alzheimer's. She would tell me facts about the memory going, about old people having to wear diapers. I remember how it made no sense to me. I was so young. I couldn't imagine any grown-ups not being smarter, wiser, more together than I.

And here I am. The grown-up.

We take care of our babies, pray for their health and safety. We take care of our parents, love them more than they know, would go to the end of the earth for them too. But it's ever-changing, never-static, never predictable.

Jeff's driving down the mountain from the ski hill, nothing but endorphins from having a much needed day with his buddies. The phone rings. PopPop is in the ER. And while he's fine, he's 86, he has Alzheimer's, he has a fever, he has a bad foot, and his body has seen an awful, awful lot.

It seems that the key to it all, the key with both the old and the young, is to take in every moment. Every now. Because sometimes the how's and why's just don't add up. It's too sad. I don't know when they say brain power peaks, but I'm pretty certain I'm already past my prime. I sometimes have to think long and hard about the simplest things. I certainly can't wrap my brain around all these big thoughts right now.

I'm not much of a pray-er. But tomorrow is the one day a year we ever go to church. To the MLK service with the kids and their poetry. The local folk singers and the academics at the pulpit. So in honor of my favorite church day, I'll send a shout out.

I send a shout out to PopPop. May his brain hold on to the goodness of the world. May he feel the love of the people around him.

I shout out to Nana. May Roseann be able to find a way to hold on to her beautiful, bright, life-loving self while her rock sways. May she hold on to her radiant, open smile in the midst of this huge, huge sea change.

I shout out to Jeff. Jeff who tries to keep it together for everyone. Jeff and his honesty and intelligence and loyalty. Shout out to his time on the mountain. It's preventative medicine.

I shout out to my own Mama. To all her body has been through over the years. To the way she's a total trooper about it all. So composed and gorgeous and resilient. So dedicated to us all.

I shout out to my Dad. His body too has seen it's share of ridiculousness. And he's getting ready to travel the world. Hiked around J.Tree with us. Reads poetry out loud.

I shout out to my babies. I shout out to my girlfriends. I shout out to my sisters. I shout out to them all. To the here and the now and the lovely weight of it all.

sunshine holiday

2012-01-03T13:29:00.000-08:00

It's a good problem to have. Too many excellent photos. Too many excellent memories. Too much to attempt to record. But I know myself and I know that I'm better now than later, better in this moment than waiting to organize. So let's begin.

Christmas in California. Christmas with my beautiful family.

Time in the city. Time to eat delicious food and explore shops on sunny walks.

Time to take my girl to Disneyland for the first time. To watch her see more human beings than she ever had in her entire life in one place at one time. Even with all the stories and descriptions I provided the months prior to the trip, I don't think she had any clue what she was in for. When I applied sunscreen to her cheeks in the car she said, "Why are you putting sunscreen on me? Is Disneyland outside?"

Little did she know that Disneyland is it's own, grand universe. She was a little freaked out by the dark on the kiddie rides, so we took it pretty easy.

Around two o'clock she said, "I think I'm ready to go home now." Huh. Sounded swell to me as I was feeling a bit freaked out by the crowds. So we booked it on out. Disneyland. Check.

But that was so a teeny, tiny piece of our adventure. Daddy met us at the beach after our five days apart. Were we thrilled to see him! He brought the laid-back, travel, come-what-may vibe that I needed to infiltrate my holiday. We enjoyed the sun and sand. The children, of course, managed to get themselves naked.

That seems to be a theme with them. Naked in nature. Naked in sunshine. We ate fish in Malibu and drove through Topanga Canyon and I marveled at how big and blue and beautiful it all is.

There was a sunny Christmas eve hike, followed by Christmas eve sushi and, of course, lots of Christmas love. After a decade of living with Montana seasons, the 75 degree holiday seemed otherworldly. Otherworldy and easy and just as it should have been.

Post Christmas found us adventuring back to our roots as a couple. Jeff and I spent lots and lots of time together in Joshua Tree during our first years together.

There is something really magical about taking your children to a place that was significant to the family before they arrived.

My dad joined us for a day, which added to the whole, "full circle" quality of the experience.

They loved the rocks and caves and colors. Eliana, ever the explorer, ended up with a hand full of cactus quills.

But she was tough, and we got our hands on some good tweezers, and, I guess, it was all part of the adventure.

Leaving Joshua Tree was tough. But Zion was a welcome hello. I hadn't been to Zion in forever and forgot how mesmerizing the red rock cliffs were.

After two days of camping, the lodge was a welcome refuge, complete with a warm bath and a delicious restaurant. The hardest part about Zion was having to leave. We had a good fifteen or so hours left of the drive and school and work and real life to return to.

We kissed the sunshine goodbye, wiped the red earth from our hands, and pulled away.

The rest of the adventure was firsts in a way that is not as blog worthy. First family fast food. First family Walmart trip. These are firsts that I'm not too proud of but, unfortunately, firsts that are sometimes the only option when traveling on the American open road. Eliana's eyes were almost as big when entering Walmart as they were when she first spotted Cinderella's castle at Disneyland. Ah, America.

But so much more than supersize box stores, the supersize grandeur of our country really hit home. The ocean and desert and mountains. Driving back into Missoula always makes me catch my breath. That last stretch on the 90 between Deer Lodge and Rock Creek, right along the Clark Fork. The bend in the road and tan of the earth. My memory of seeing that stretch of road for the very first time. It was hot sun July, the blue sky beginning of our Montana adventure. Joni Mitchell crooned on my car stereo, all honesty and heartfelt. I looked out my window and felt my heart swell. My breath catch, then slow. The wonder of adventure. Of seeing something new. Of travel and opportunity. Of trusting the spirit of the unknown.

I felt that way seeing the world with my children these past two weeks. Felt that same heart swell when we drove into Joshua Tree. When we saw the red cliffs. As we passed hour after hour together on the open road, ready to face anything, as long as we were together.

before I forget

2012-01-03T13:09:00.000-08:00

Last night I uploaded a ton of photos to blog about. Our adventures in California were full and beautiful and between two new phones and our camera, we have more documentation than we know what to do with. But instead of going there just yet, I need to capture this moment that is Solomon.

All of a sudden, my baby is a boy. He talks and responds and interacts. I can ask him questions and he answers clearly. And he really knows. Just now as I was laying him to sleep he asked, "Night? Night?" meaning his blankie. I said, "We left your Night Night at Nana's. Will you sleep with Elie's instead? We can get yours later." "Okay," he replied. He took her blankie, snuggled it up to his face, and feel into a deep slumber.

That's how our whole two weeks of vacation was with him. We drove home from California. Over twenty hours of car time. And as long as I was in the backseat making chit-chat with Soli, he was fine. He can talk about anything through his responses. And lord knows his sister can talk with him until the cows come home. They have this song thing that they do. I feel like I'll forever associate the song with our trip and especially our time in the car. They like to do it in enclosed spaces. Cars. Elevators. Anywhere where their voices can resonate. It sounds sort of like, "Ah, lalalala, ahhhh" and they sing it and laugh and get louder and louder. It's their sibling call of celebration. I love it.

Another sibling first they had on the trip was sleeping together. First it was just all four of us, snuggled up in a line in our tent during our two nights of camping in Joshua Tree. Then it was Sol and Elie in their own bed in our two hotel nights on the way home. I was all ready to call in the port-a-crib. And then there they were. Head to head. Fast asleep. My little blessings.

fun

2011-12-10T18:45:00.001-08:00

I just opened up a piece of mail from the university I attended. They were asking for money. The approach was to reminisce about how great it all was. Included in the mailing were pictures from our recent fifteen year reunion (of which I did not attend). And all I could think as I looked at those goofy pictures of people laughing and dancing and carrying on was:

When did we all get so old?

The irony is that right now, in my old bones, I hold the muscle memory of a night well spent. Of racing laps around a dance floor. Of wholly becoming Madonna when Material Girl was played. My body holds the soreness in the neck, in the shoulders, that can only come after one dances hard. Real hard. I recall jumping off the stage and doing a bell kick. I heart bell kicks.

So when I think about being old, I think about how young I feel inside. About dancing hard and dressing like a fool. I think about the rest of the fools in my town, the rest of the fools who are my friends. I think about how nights like last night keep us all really young. How thankful I am to be around old people who really like to have fun, to use their bodies, to be goofballs and eat hamburgers in costume. I love them.

It was a good night. It was followed by a good day. My children are so fun to be around. We spent a solid part of the day at the Children's Museum. Sol's never been. It was the first birthday party he'd been invited to. And Eliana rode on the coattails of his invite all the way through. Even after his party was long over, I found her at the craft table making some wild ocean, glittery crafty thing in a jar thing with a group of kids who were part of another party. Yup. That's my girl. She had no idea who they were, but she just sat right down and started crafting. Love her.

She's crafting like crazy right now. And almost better than the craft is the re-telling, step by step, of how the creation came to be:
Well, let me tell you what I did first. First, I found a little bit of clay and I rolled it into a tight, little ball. Then I just poked an orange colored pencil in this hole, a yellow crayon here, then I wrapped VERY TIGHTLY a pipe cleaner around and around and around the whole thing, then I poked this little bead into the clay and then I made this beautiful tree! But it's not like a tree that lives in the ground. It's a tree that you carry in your pocket. And it's for you, Mama! Here!

Dang. The energy that it must take to be little CelieBop. She's intense. And she keeps me young.

Here's to the fun of now.

bathtime

2011-12-05T18:53:00.000-08:00

When all is said and done, I think this is my favorite time of day. Generally one of us joins these two freaks in the tub. But tonight, it was just the two of them. The two of them and their crazy faces. Loud songs. Splishy splashes. Games with anything that's plastic and floats. It means we're almost to the end of another day, but not so close that I'm overly exhausted or sorta sentimental. It's one of those pleasures that we all agree on.

life

2011-12-01T19:10:00.000-08:00

I just responded to a request by some friends that I help them choreograph a flash mob for an upcoming dance party. I responded by saying something about life having me by the balls right now. And it does. I can't squeeze out another freakin' shimmy.

I have to remember that this is always a tough time of year for a teacher. The kids have had their first of two long-ish breaks. The novelty of a new school year has worn thin. They are ready to get their holiday freak on. And there we are telling them, once again, to listen.

So there's that. The general insanity of the job I'm paid to do.

And, the finality of knowing that we are done making babies.

That's a big one. And I guess it doesn't feel right to go into too much more detail over the internet. Suffice to say, I mourned today. I thought about this journey that has been the past five years. All the growth and wisdom and intensity and love. How far we've come. My husband is brave. We are brave. Our journey will only continue. The story of the four of us.

I cried happy tears, thinking about how blessed I am to be the mama of two such perfect creatures. All I wanted to do was get home to be with them. And then a few hours later, all I wanted to do was to kiss their perfect heads, tuck in their wriggly bodies, and let stillness enter my home. Quiet. Some semblance of order. Good jeepers can those two find every single last thing in every last drawer. Sol's new trick is to literally leap from the end table onto the sofa with a huge grin. I wait and catch him, tugging the table closer to the sofa each time. He then hops down and moves the table a bit further away. Gotta be on it around here.

We entered holiday excitement a bit prematurely. Met Santa while it was still November. I have to say, I'm pretty glad we got that one out of the way, as it was pretty painless. Els was a bit shell shocked, but still managed to explain her need for a Princess Jasmine costume. Solomon couldn't get enough of the big guy. Mrs. Claus had to play bouncer for all the other kids, as Sol kept finding his way back on to the big guy's lap. Only in Missoula is Mrs. Claus kinda badass with a nose ring to boot. Gotta love it.

In two weeks we go to California. I am already thinking about it. Eliana asks me every day how many more sleeps til California. We're hitting Disneyland. It's gonna be big. I'm kinda petrified, but ready to take on the challenge. It's part of my history. My people do Disneyland. We're gonna lay it on thick.

So, as always, at the end of a little writing session, I no longer care (too much) about the random sock I see shoved into a corner of the room, fridge magnents that litter the floor, the mail that spills everywhere (Eliana checks every day for letters from her, "sister in California, Queenie" Queenie sends some mean credit card offers...always explaining, of course, how much she misses her beautiful sister).

I am at peace with our choice to move forward into the world of big(ger) children. I am at peace with this being my last round of diapers. I can handle not nursing again (I think). I can take a deep breath and think about the two incredible packages that sleep in the room beside mine. The way they hug first thing in the morning. The way they are learning exactly how to piss each other off.

The way we ebb and flow up and down and up again day after day after day.

thanksgiving morning

2011-11-24T08:26:00.000-08:00

This morning I need poetry. It's Thanksgiving. Last night was really, really rough. Between Sol's molars and Elie's hacking cough, Jeff and I had maybe three straight hours at best. I want to be my best self today. I want to be my best self always. I'm trying so hard to be mindful, to be true, to model the kind of appreciation and kindness that I want to see in the rest of the world. This sounds kind of high and mighty. It isn't. It's a struggle. It's a challenge. It's the kind of challenge I'm excited to accept.

When I think about who I want my models to be, I go to my girlfriends. I go to my sisters. I go to my mother. I think about all the strong women who help me through every single day. Who did it before me. The different styles we choose to embrace all the needs that we have to satisfy. I remember that it's always been my friends who have brought out my best self.

I found out last night via Facebook that a high-school classmate of mine died. I'm not sure if I'd call her my friend, as I haven't seen her in over twenty years. We were in the small ensemble play, Steel Magnolias together when I was a junior and she was a senior. We played Annelle and Trudy, respectively. We shared every scene. We became friends. She was sophisticated and cool, had older boyfriends, wore meticulous make-up and had an amazingly womanly body. I was goofy, twitchy, cheerful cheer-leading me at seventeen. The rest of the cast was as motley as the two of us. But this lovely relationship developed between all of us. Women, when put together, have an amazing capacity to bond. To find their shared truths.

So I sit here this morning thinking about all I have to be grateful for. I think about the community of friends that I've developed over the past decade in this mountain town. How we've shared weddings. Births and more births. Adventures with tents and skis and hot springs and trails. All sorts of things I never imaged at seventeen.

I think about my sisters. How different we all are. How deep the love flows. How much I've emulated and admired every single one of them my whole life. Five sisters. How's that for a blessing.

I think about my mom. How hard she worked to give us everything all the time. Her intelligence. Her uniqueness. Her wit. The way she paved a path so staunchly her own. In a new country. With two young girls. Then two more. Amidst a cacophony of adolescents she'd just met, with a man she perhaps never intended to marry. Tremendous.

The way I watch my mother-in-law greet her husband with love every single morning. Kiss his bald head. Love him wholly. Even after he's just peed in the sink. Buttoned and unbuttoned his coat incessantly. Folded and unfolded the throw rug. Asked the same question again and again. I'm sure she never imaged their fifteen year age difference would come to this.

I think about my husband. How hard he works. How intense and sharp his mind is. How he wants to fix everything. How much he's taught me about the world. Opened me up in ways I never imagined.

And my own babies. Eliana and her words. Her intensity. Her huge brain and articulate self. I'm so proud of the way she speaks to other people. How she addresses people by their name. Her astute observations. Her eyes. Her hair.

Solomon and his monkey body. The way he moves with such confidence. His monkey arms around me in the middle of the night. He's hard head against my chest. His words. Alright! Toast? RoRo? Mommeee.

So here I am, full of love. The snow has melted and the brown leaves are back, covering the grass in the yard. The red berries on the ash mix with the toasted leaves. They are still and lazy. They are totally content with their place in it all.

I started this post with a need for poetry. For words. Here's a gift:

Morning Poem

Every morning

the world

is created.

Under the orange

sticks of the sun

the heaped

ashes of the night

turn into leaves again

and fasten themselves to the high branches ---

and the ponds appear

like black cloth

on which are painted islands

of summer lilies.

If it is your nature

to be happy

you will swim away along the soft trails

for hours, your imagination

alighting everywhere.

And if your spirit

carries within it

the thorn

that is heavier than lead ---

if it's all you can do

to keep on trudging ---

there is still

somewhere deep within you

a beast shouting that the earth

is exactly what it wanted ---

each pond with its blazing lilies

is a prayer heard and answered

lavishly,

every morning,

whether or not

you have ever dared to be happy,

whether or not

you have ever dared to pray.

from Dream Work (1986) by Mary Oliver

Thank you friends, sisters, mamas, husbands, children for daring us to be happy. Thank you for these thirty seven blessed years.

There were times when I wasn't sure it was all going to go as well as it did. Never dreamed it would go so well.

Let's go with grace. Savor each moment. Stop trying so hard. Be here now.

the three of us

2011-11-14T18:52:00.001-08:00

Our foursome is missing a vital member. Jeff's away for work until Wednesday and I'm trying hard to get good good at going it alone. This weekend was way better than last, when he was away also. I made the brilliant choice to listen to my children's requests and not leave the house yesterday, except to explore the newly fallen snow in our backyard.

My kids. They are so very content these days in the simple company of one another. Sol points to the radio and calls out his favorite tune to start the day with dancing. Eliana fashions capes and costumes for them while they hold hands and make wonky circles around the tiny dance floor. They pull cushions from the sofa and make obstacle courses and crash landing pads. They fashion drums from lunch boxes and kitchen ware and then play their favorite jams. I think about yesterday and imagine what we did to fill a whole entire day in our little home? I keep seeing the same images. The dancing, the pillows. What else? The books! Yes, the books. Lots and lots of time is spent with books. And now Els has most of Soli's memorized, so she does the reading. It's pretty awesome.

So after a full and busy work day, I returned home with my chickens and they started the routine. The music. The cushions. The inability to sit for any amount of time to actually consume a meal (Sol actually poured a bowl of juicy, tomoato-y spaghetti on his head like something out of a bad comedy...).

Even if they won't eat enough, they always leave me with plenty to clean. But I tried to keep my cool and just be. I ate while they jumped off the coffee table onto Lucy's disgusting dog bed, head first. I tried not to get too uptight. I took it easy, took care of my needs, rolled with their requests. Played Sol's favorite Michael Franti song again and again and again. Engaged Eliana and her endless games, the imagination run wild and amok. Races and hide and go seek and dress-up and Jasmine and Queenie McBear. Tried to watch enough to keep them safe without totally squelching their agenda.

We got through bath (my second attempt at dinner, Sol's bowl of yogurt and cottage cheese with rainbow sprinkles was promptly poured all over me to which Eliana frankly stated, Mina! What are we going to do with you? I never did that, did I Mama?) and then tried to get everyone dressed for bed. Eliana's taken a liking to choosing her own bed outfits, fashioned out of things she can wear to school the next day. Uber-efficient if you ask me, albeit a bit clashy. Tonight it was purple leopard print fleece pants and a long sleeved rainbow print tee. Whatevs.

So I'm alternating my reading between one of Sol's books and one of El's books. They were pretty hyped up on goofballs and I had to keep reminding them to Simmer Down (when did this signature phrase of my mother's begin to infiltrage my vernacular?) While on a longer book for Elie, Sol would hop off the bed in his sleepy sack and shimmy his way over to his book basket to pull out another book. Except one time he decided to dump his book basket on the floor. And then, before I had time to fully get it, hurl himself head first into the basket. Except, of course, he missed and came flying with an atrocious THUD on to the hardwood floor. Good Jesus.

So there goes the Zen. Sol screams. I begin to pace around frantically, holding him and kissing him while a giant goose egg forms on his head. I raise my voice at Eliana and tell her to pick up all the books from the floor, even though she really has nothing to do with this. I put a frozen piece of ahi on Sol's head which he promptly throws on the floor. Eliana picks it up and tries to bite it, reminding me that I have yet to finish The Cat and the Hat. I jiggle Sol and try to finish the book. I omit some vital couplets. She calls me out and tells me to read the whole page. Ugh.

Now it's lights out. The occasional whimper behind the closed door. I can't bear to face the obliterated kitchen. I just tried to find my slippers on our tiny bathroom floor. They are covered with cottage cheese and rainbow sprinkles. Dora panties, stinky overalls and little legwarmers are strewn about on the damp, dairy-fied floor. My dog continues to lurk right at my heels. When I open up the door for her, she just stares outside. It's freezing. My slippers are sticky. I have belly cramps. I really hope no one reads this because it's going from bittersweet and purposeful to complainy and random.

But I guess my point is, even when all I want is a break from it all, I promptly sit down to write it all down. Because it's all so beautiful. The way they snuggle together in bed. The way Sol tries to sing Baby Beluga along with us. His huge smile when he first put the book basket on his head and wandered around like a little blind bat. The delightful detail I omitted from the initial telling of the story. Because I knew he'd try and hurl his body in. But it was so cute and funny the way he was wandering around with the basket on his head, the way he fashioned his tiny self bum down into the basket. I love his creativity and curiosity. He is so amazingly busy and interested in everything, all the time. So even though I knew somewhere in my heart that all his mania would end up in a goose egg, I didn't want to stop it because I knew how happy he was.

I could leave all the dishes and crawl right in bed. It's eight sixteen. My house is a barrage of board books and tupperware, jackets and pillows.

But they sleep. Those two, wild little creatures. They sleep now. Most likely before morning, one or both of them will awake, once or multiple times. We'll muddle our way through another night. Lucy will whine at my bedside and whack me in the face with her tail. I'll curse under my breath and open the back door. She'll stare for a while before stepping out. And that's just how we roll.

Daddy will be home on Wednesday. I'll have my partner back. My look exchanger. The number of times in an evening we look at each other and shake our heads. Is this for real? Are they really ours? Did we know we could love anything this much? Are you as tired as I am? Do we really have to bend down again to pick more crap up off the floor? Is that Lucy scratching again? Is Sol awake? Are we out of cream? Did you check the mail? Set the alarm? Did you hear him say, Elie? Look at how she kisses his head. And again and again and again. This blessed time. All the details to remember.

And for the record...this picture was taken last week. Now a white dust of snow covers those fallen leaves. We've landed in Winter.

gone

2011-11-05T19:33:00.000-07:00

I just uploaded pictures from last weekend. The pictures are full of fall colors and sunshine. Cozy hats but not yet winter boots. Our busy, busy, full and fleeting days.

I woke to snow this morning. Should have known when Lucy was going nuts in the middle of the night. Didn't even put it together, just muttered at her, dragged my body from bed, opened the back door and felt the rush of cold air that screams, It's here.

Drove out to some hot springs with my lady colleague posse to celebrate the up-coming birth of a new MIS baby. Snow dusted the mountain tops and roadsides. The larch shouted their yellow breaths our way. The trees towered and the Clark Fork looked sleepy.

Seasons move fast around these parts. Children grow. Mama's settle. Snow drifts.

I'm feeling so happy right now. Happy in a grounded way. Happy in a calm way. Happy in a lots of dance party mornings way. Happy in a go to bed at 9:00 way. Happy in a peppermint tea kinda way.

Jeff's gone for the weekend. He'll be gone again next weekend and into the week. I miss him but I also know, I've got this. I just have to keep it simple. Long jammy days. Let all the toys litter the floor. Move from thing to thing and back. Just groove to their little rhythm.

They are so perfect. They love each other so much. They love me so much. It's really, really lovely.

Sol says, "Eleee, Eleee!" He points to the radio and says, "Woah, woah, woah!" to signal his favorite Michael Franti tune. He's got rhythm that boy. He talks about his friends all the time. His favorite phrase is, "Thank you!"

And Eliana has entered a phase of all things princess, all things Disney. She has yet to see a princess movie, but acts like she's the total authority. She sang a mean Ariel in the tub tonight. She's creative and determined and really weird.

I think she's pretty awesome.
Halloween was almost too much for all of us to bear. There was such build up. So many changes in costume. She finally settle on Angelina Ballerina and was pretty damn sweet in her big ears and twirly dress.

After a very full school day, we found ourselves preparing for the big event, the big, trick or treat. Eliana and Sol moved slowly and carefully from house to house.

Eliana was so overwhelmed by the giant bowls of candy she could hardly speak. This is quite unusual for her. Sol on the other hand would grab a few tiny fistfuls and then insist on carrying them the whole way to the next house. He would then try to return them to the next bowl. This was the game until he ate through a Snicker's wrapper and realized what was inside. He stopped giving them back after that.

I see these pictures and he looks so small but in the moment, ah, in the moment, he is so very big. I can't believe that was just this week. So much action packed into every single day. So many moments to hold on to.

my favorite season

2011-10-28T16:16:00.000-07:00

I'm claiming Fall as my favorite season. In the Spring I claim Spring. All of my students claim Winter. Maybe one day. For today, I'll take Fall.

The way I can't seem to take enough pictures. Cold mornings and sunny afternoons. Leaves and more leaves. The aniticipation of Halloween and Day of the Dead. The last hurrah before the colors fade to white, before the inevitable freeze.

I'll take Fall.

eagle coast

2011-10-17T19:08:00.001-07:00

So much to report since last I was here. An amazing evening on the Clark Fork with six gorgeous women. A raft packed with gourmet goodness, down bags, cozy clothes, really good coffee and pretty good wine. I didn't commit to the trip til a few hours before, ever caught up in the working mama's guilt, the weekend downtime that I so want to spend with my family. But the girls, ah the girls. How they feed my wacked out old soul. How I could talk to them forever and ever and ever. How the adventure of the rapids, of the outdoors, of being the kid sister to a band of bad ass river mama's, me on my knees at the foot of the raft while they paddle and steer my goofy self out of harm's way. The way they set up camp and build a fire like total pros. The way I marvel still at how strong and beautiful and worldly so many of my friends are.

So, as it always seems to go, the trip away was awesome. I returned to a Costco stocked fridge, salmon in a marinade, happy children and a confident husband. Sometimes I need to get out of the way. It seems to empower us all.

The next weekend my sister, Wendy, and her sweet girl, Piper came. Cousins in all their bouncy, vibrant, loud glory! While rain detained us a bit, we ended up hiking the "L", getting lost in an insane corn maze and visiting a pumpkin patch. Wendy's fancy camera captured lots of the moments absolutely beautifully. I am so thankful for our special cousin dates in Montana. I love having my people on my turf.

Jeff's folks have landed back in Missoula. They are getting settled and we are enjoying family adventures. Fled the rainy city and ended up at a hot springs on Sunday. We were quite a sight: chatty, wild haired girl, long lashed infant, old, old Poppy, excited Nana....I like the multi-generational travel. Makes the true meaning of family shine.

Of course, all these highlights coexist with the daily backdrop of work and shuttle and more work at night and dinner and messy houses and splashy baths and board book bedtimes. With deep breaths. With endless floor pick ups. With dog walks that sometimes feel like they are part of the to-do list.

I had less than an hour to hammer out some dog time before I grabbed Els from school. And I was hammering. I moved quickly up the mountain my brain full with the 90 reading tests I have to administer, the choreography I'm trying to get finished for Wednesdays class, what the heck I'd throw together for dinner, my upcoming business trip to L.A. when I'll leave my children for...gulp...three whole nights, four long days. Before I knew it I had made it to the giant cement "L" on the mountain and I sat.

And there they were. Floating on air. The crisp air holding their wings, cradling them while they coasted ever so gently above my head. Oh how I love the bald eagles. We see lots of wildlife around these parts, but these guys always grab me, hold me. Their grace. Their confidence. The way they seem to just let the wind carry them. Hold the moment.

So I picked a new song on my ipod, tipped my head back, and surrendered to their glory. Tried to coast along with them. On their tireless ride. Their strong cruise. Breathed them in. Tried to carry them with me as I entered back into the chaos. The way they just float with grace from one moment to the next.

glacier

2011-09-25T16:33:00.000-07:00

This weekend we finally bit the bullet and took the kiddos camping. While we camped a ton last summer when Sol was more or less immobile, we didn't make it out this past summer. There's so much to weigh. Weather conditions. Car time. Sleep saga. Life with two little children is a ton of work when you have running water and nightlights. Why would we add to that stress?

Because of this.

Just a few hours from our casita. It was the first weekend of fall. The aspens and larch were spinning their golden threads. The mornings were down jacket chilly. But the days were pretty much awesome.

We're all getting into this paddle boarding thing. It's the first time I've actually "recreated" as much as my husband on a weekend away. The kids love it too.

It's so peaceful. Standing strong on that board. Watching the fish jump, peering deep into the blue depths, staring into the craggy peaks like they're a second home.

We also had a few new items to try out. Like the van. She hasn't taken a three hour road trip yet. And she's a rockstar. It's amazing how much easier it is to travel with kids when I can get to them easily, whenever they need me (which, I'll add, is kinda a lot...).

After years and years of hurling my body into the backseat of my tiny, ancient Honda, bum wedged between massive carseats, the van feels like absolute luxury. We also secured a new tent at an end of season sale a while back. Again, after years in the two man, this happy orange number had us all sound and secure.

Of course, it's all fun and games until it's time to go to sleep. Sol was way over tired and hurling his little body around the tent while I tried and tried to calm him, tried to sing his songs, tried to get him to settle.

He's been officially off-the-boob for a week, so books and songs are my only tickets to ride. Jeff sent me on a water mission so I could cool out, my frustration and anxiety mounting. When I came back it was silent. Go dad. We actually managed to hang around the fire for a few hours before we did the Kessler sandwich sleep, me blissfully nuzzled between a downy boy and a dreadlocked girl.

While there was plenty of sadness wrapped up in easing Solomon off the boob, the cuddling that has replaced nursing is out of this world. He's one sweet little monkey. And he's actually managing to sleep some solid stretches. It was time. And as always seems to be the case with children, the next best thing replaces the last best thing and then some.

At the end of the day, the kids were awesome. So up for adventure. So into building rock castles (Els) and exploring every last inch of foliage, picking up every last pebble (Sol). Don't get me wrong, there were moments, to be sure. It's funny, not so much with Sol who at home is the one who wears me down a bit more. In the great outdoors, there's less havoc for him to cause. The lake was shallow and low, so I didn't worry about him going out too far. We were far from cars. He slept through the campfire. And he spent plenty of the weekend strapped into a carseat.

Els was the one prone to a bit more moodiness, a bit more drama. She "missed her little house" and was dying to get back to the Halloween costumes her Gran had sent the day we left.

That said, they burst in the doors when we returned and within minutes they had destroyed the house. Solomon was climbing the window (really...it's insane), after he'd already sat in Lucy's water dish, ate dogfood, unfurled the toilet paper roll, thrown a few toy baskets around the room, blown out of his diaper....you get the idea. Eliana sits in the middle of this chaos dressed as Buzz Lightyear pouring over a haggard Halloween costume catalogue, talking about Princess Leia versus Princess Jasmine, pondering aloud the merits of being Buzz Lightyear or maybe Belle while she wistfully flips through the pages. She's so heady, so lost in thought, so ready to bust out with the most random, but thoroughly eloquent comment at any point. Out of nowhere from the backseat we heard her say something like this: Hey guys. If I still have some treat and none of the chocolate is melted, I'll be sure to share some with my friends...

And then to Jeff when they were on the paddle board together, while looking out at the insane mountains of Glacier National Park, Dadda? Did God make this?

Ah how I would love to get lost in her thoughts...

It's so good to remember that it's always better just to do it. Just to take the risk. Just to bite the bullet. I sit here looking at these pictures filled with gratitude. For those two days together. For being so in the moment with my three most beloved people.

climbers

2011-09-18T10:14:00.000-07:00

The best days are the unexpected ones. Days that begin with no plan. A day that could have been a total wash because of too many night wakings, a mama up from twelve to four, a boy who needs to learn to self-soothe, a girl who wants to be snuggled. But instead of succumbing to exhaustion, Jeff suggested yoga. After landing myself on my mat, I found two of my best girls had decided to take class that morning too. So yoga was followed by a spontaneous latte. The latte turned into chilaquiles and huevos rancheros and a blueberry bran muffin.

Then I was home and my husband had the kids all packed and ready to head to a little beach along the Clark Fork. He was scouting out an area where he'll bring his middle schoolers for an overnight next week. I was excited because I have vague but lovely memories of being in this spot years ago, pre-kids, with our good friends when Solan was Elie's age. I remember him getting all harnessed up and heading up the rock while his daddy belayed and Jeff coached. I remember having one of those you-live-in-Montana moments. One of those, maybe one day this will be your kid on belay, on this rock, along this river. It still is surreal to me sometimes. The beauty of this place. The choices we've made. And how fast that person at the base of the climb was me, watching her girl fearlessly head up the granite.

Eliana was so excited to climb. Excited and strong and focused.

She had such grace and strength and flexibility. She had a couple moments where I had to avert my eyes because her body was doing such wild things so close to very solid rock.

She made it about halfway up the climb before she realized how far off the ground she was and asked to come down. I had the exact same moment when I did the same climb after her. Of course I tried not to say anything but felt my heart pound, felt my brain begin it's chitter chatter of what the heck are you doing, and you could fall and the rope could come undone or, if anything, you could bang up your knee or twist your ankle and is it even worth it....all the reasons why I've never seemed to be able to wholly embrace the gnarly sports that interest my loved ones. But I stuck with it and made it down with a bit of grace. Elie was all ready for round two. But we had to let the boys have a go, had to teach her the law of waiting which seems to be as big of a part of rock climbing as all that darn gear.

So we hung and snacked and watched Sol find every single last stick, bough, bend, mud puddle, sand grain.

The boy loves to be outside. He could explore endlessly. Of course, he wanted to do what the big kids were doing. Had a pretty decent run at a few free solos. Jeff said we should wait until he's two. We're gonna be busy with these guys.

So that perfect day. All of a sudden it was dinnertime. We stopped on the way home for burritos, got everybody sand free in the tub (Sol's other favorite activity is the "sandstand" which gives his sun-screened head a perfect, beige halo), and found ourselves with books. I vowed to do the "last nurse" and had my own little ceremony in the quiet dark of their sage and lavender room. Sol's interest is now only habitual and seems to only consistantly come in the middle of the night. I'll be leaving in a few weeks for a work trip alone and want him to be ready to fly solo when he's here with Jeff for four days. He is so snuggly right now, so into books and songs and cuddling that I think we'll be okay.

It may be harder for me to give up. But we found ourselves in the middle of the night singing "Baby Beluga", rocking in the living room. I said those famous words, no nurse....all gone.... and choked a bit inside at the white lie. In a day or so I'll be squeezing my confused breasts out in the shower, milk getting washed away with my tears. It's a big deal for me. But something about the beauty of yesterday made it feel like the right time. The unexpected day of friends and family.

The unexpected strength in us all.

buckets

2011-09-14T20:16:00.000-07:00

The day started with a bang. Lying in bed, cuddling Sol. Jeff's up and in the shower. My contacts are stuck to my eyes. I hear Lucy make a strange, sudden move. Then see flashing yellowish-orange colors reflecting from my kitchen. Leave Sol unattended on the bed because I have a funny sense. Sure enough. The stove is on fire. Like, really on fire. Orange and yellow big flames.

"Fire!" I scream because I don't think I have the best instincts in this situation.

Jeff hustles out of the bathroom, grabs the fire extinguisher that I would have never remembered lives under the sink, and puts out the fire.

Solomon's brand new, super cute and very synthetic lunch bag is a mess of oozy black, chemical goo crusted in a mass on the burner. Gray smoke permeates.

I've been trying to train Jeff to use the back burner because Sol is way too interested in the stove. So Jeffy rocked it and put the kettle on the back burner. The only trouble was he still, out of habit, turned the front burner on. Where Sol's super sweet puppy lunch bag was waiting to be grabbed for daycare.

Thus began another day.

The smoke was bad and really toxic smelling, so I high tailed the kids to a nearby coffee shop for bagels and lattes. And, of course, within minutes of sitting, Sol managed to hurl himself off his chair, bringing the glass plate and the blueberry muffin with him. Everyone turns and looks at me. I smile, scoop up my boy who is totally fine, feed him the chunks of floor speckled muffin and pretend like it's so no big deal. We get to school and daycare and continue to deal.

And then there's that pivotal moment. I race back home and begin to clean up the insanely gross, stinky, scary kitchen. And realize I'll be a mess of a teacher/mama/wife/friend if I spend another second in that kitchen. Grab the leash and my headphones and head up the "L" with Lucy in the forty five minutes I have before I have to greet my class.

Put a lid on my bucket.

We're really into this bucket thing in our class right now. See, we all have these invisible buckets that we carry around with us. When we feel super, our buckets are full. Put sometimes an array of incidents can "dip" into our buckets and change how we feel inside. But, thank heavens, we have a lid! And our lid controls how much we let anyone else, any circumstance or, most importantly, ourselves, take from our bucket. Simple but profound. Super powerful to talk about, write about and teach every day.

So I put a lid on the day that could have been really, really rough in that frustrated, blame-y, exhausted kinda way. I hiked the mountain and watched the sun rise from behind Jumbo, watched the clouds shift and the light change. Listened to my girl Adele on the mic. Thought about our random and wild and lucky lives. Realized that even though we were so dang sad about the bag (Eliana, wide eyed with tears: But Mama! It was brand new and a gift from Gran! Sol never gets anything brand new! That is so sad for Sol, Mama! But he can have my old Ladybug lunch box. He can have it really for keeps! I'd give it to him Mama, for real!) it could have been ten thousand times worse.

So go slow and count your blessings.

Some of my blessings right now...

Sol loves music and has some amazing rhythm. We were at this block party the other night where an amazing spoken word rapper was jammin' into the mic, strutting up and down the catwalk. Sol was so down. Totally imitated his style. Even was invited on stage by the homie.

Solomon also loves his little daycare. He gets all jazzed to go and waves from afar while getting into some book or toy. I feel very, very thankful for Caroline, for the ease with which he's settled in, for the gentle transition. She always talks about how loving and kissable he is. How in his body he is. How he loves to be part of the team. She's right on the money.

Eliana also adores school. She wants to go to before-care and after-care and generally could stay there forever. She's super confident and so part of the scene. Jeff overheard her in the hallway, hands on her hips looking at her buddy starting a sentence with, "Entonces...." all exaggerated, the language such a part of her little being.

Jeffy had a birthday and reached what our friend Geoff Cornish calls middle age. It's about time considering I've been there for quite a while now. He had a perfect day: mountain adventures with his boyfriends during the day, dinner party with family and friends that night. So thankful are we for our people.

I'm back at teaching dance and can't believe I let it go for a whole year. That time in that studio moving my body that way, inspiring other women to get into theirs, brings me so much joy. My kiddos at school are lovely and spirited and bright. My group is much smaller than last year and that helps it all feel much more manageable. I'm really excited to try some new things with them this year, to push myself in some new directions.

Even with the unexpected bucket dippers, even with life in her full blown chaotic glory, we're managing to keep our buckets pretty darn full. Trying to take the moments when we have them and let things go when it's time to move on.

labor day weekend

2011-09-05T20:47:00.000-07:00

It was a good, good weekend. One of the best we've had in a while. Perhaps because we were just home. Just together. Just complete.

The first major highlight was Eliana's ascent of the "L" on the mountain behind our house. Eliana calls Mt. Jumbo, My Mountain. Finally she was able to really make it her own. Eliana was determined and awesome and way tough about the journey. I certainly had my doubts from the start. It was hot and I was tuckered. So I guess I projected my exhaustion onto my kid, cuz lord knows, she was fine. Jeff just kept her mind busy with stories of coyotes and hurricanes and she inquired her way up. Talked and questioned and talked and questioned. So much to figure out about this wild world. I love that girl.

Then today we found ourselves on another hike up Big Creek. Now that she's a hiker and all, we decided we'd go for it. And once again, Homie impressed. She is just so big these days. So old. So articulate and smart and full of connections. As a literacy teacher, I'm always encouraging kids to make connections with their lives and the lives of the books they read. Her whole life is one big text-to-world. She seems to have a scene or anecdote from a book to connect with everything. It's fascinating to see the way her mind works. Super impressive.

And then there's her bro. And the way his body works. He loved the trail today. Blazed down it with all the confidence in the world (even when walking pantless).

He's finally understanding how to stay the course and actually walked without getting distracted by every little thing he saw. That was more of his sister's job. We gathered at least a dozen magical sticks and a few amazing pieces of orange bark for her collection. Some sticks make perfect violins...

And watching these two children of mine navigate the world together is perhaps my new greatest joy. Sol will say something, say, URRR, urrr, URRR and Eliana will say, Mom! Solomon says he wants to brush his teeth. That's what URRR, urrr, URRR means, Mom. I swear she kinda knows. Because he was lurking around the sink blabbering his wacky commands and I was too hustle-y around the house in that moment to really pay attention to what he wanted. Here's to sis helping with Sol's dental hygiene.

When they first see each other in the morning they hug and kiss. They don't like to go to bed without the other person in the room too. Every single thing she has, he wants. And then she wants it back. And on and on and on again.

This weekend we had no social dates, no friends to dinner, just the four of us, hanging in our space. As much as I love all our friends and family and constant goings-on, there was something really simple in thinking about meals for just the four of us, walks in the park for just the four of us, trips to the river with just the four of us. As we stare down tomorrow and the first day of school, as our lives open into an unstoppable social chasm of business, that hunkering down feels absolutely essential. The simple celebration of this beautiful place we call home, the simplicity in our foursome.

moving into the new

2011-09-02T20:34:00.000-07:00

It's been a huge week. I finally put the pictures I've taken in the few weeks since I've had my rockin' new phone up on the computer. Just taking in these end of summer memories makes me almost catch my breath. Overnight we went from summer revelry to school and day-care. Packing lunches, long meetings. Intense brain activity. Absolute exhaustion on all our parts at bedtime. It's wild, this teacherlyscheduled life. Such sudden shifts.

So the pictures give me some structure for where to take this. There have been such a spectrum of emotions that I've been feeling lately. But they don't feel as raw as they once did. I've been here before. We do this in the fall. We do school and daycare and drop-off and pick-up. Last year it was all so new. It feels nice to be a bit seasoned. I think I'm getting a little tougher in my old age. A teeny bit less sentimental. Interesting to notice.

But back to the dog days...

Luxurious, warm evenings in the vineyard.

A visit from our dear friend, Geoff, here from the wilds of New York City. I love the way certain people fall effortlessly into the rhythm of our family. So wish he could have stayed, watched the wildfires blaze a few more days. Having friends visit you on their vacation keeps you perpetually on vacation with them. My first float in a tube since Solomon's birth was with Geoff down the Clark Fork. Ah, the ridiculous leisure of it all.

A follow up float came with the arrival of Hilary and the Lineage girls. We spent an intense part of our time in the studio where I somehow mustered up the moxie to join them for a performance. So good to re-connect with my dancerly self. So good to participate whole heartedly in art for art's sake. And to have my two BFF's on the mike with their ridiculous harmonies, and my sister out there with her insane skill, my biggest fans and gorgeous girls in the audience. It was a special night.

Soaking my torn muscles in an inner tube the next day was pretty fun too.

But the true pulse to this now is my two little ones. I feel like I've come full circle this summer. For all my rantings about sameness, my frustration with homogeneity, my exhaustion and overwrought-ness with being a working mother of two, I am thoroughly and intensely in love with being a mama in Missoula. This place is gentle. Dropping Sol off at daycare on the west side felt like a big schlep across town. Yet it takes me five minutes and I've found a route that involves only one stoplight. It's so no big deal. And knowing that Sol is so ready to be there, watching him shuffle about with his new cronies, knowing how she'll love on him so intensely - having watched her with Eliana. It's a good scene. One I'm feeling prepared for.

Yes he cried when I left. Yes I cried too. But I took a deep breath, turned up the radio, and had faith that he would be so very fine. He's ready for this. Ready to spread his wings a bit. And it felt good to sit in that first meeting. To feel my brain shift back into teacher gear. To get excited about big ideas and goals and objectives. Books and words and learning styles.

The beauty is, at the end of the day, we all come back together. Eliana is so in love with her brother these days. She's been joining me in daycare pick-up. She bursts up the walk and in the door. She told me in the car the other day, Mom, I just love him so much! I love my brother more than anyone because I'm his only sister. He's mine.

They are the two most incredible beings. So funny and vibrant and expressive. So instead of mourning my time away from them, I want to celebrate our time together. Instead of missing the unstructured laziness of summer, I want to embrace the creative energy of fall. I need to go into this with grace. With a bit of seasoned style. Confidence. Faith.

Deep breath.

So let's do it.

another shift

2011-08-18T20:21:00.000-07:00

I feel another shift coming on. I feel it as I watch the sun lay her luxurious head behind the hills and it's not even 9:30. I feel it when I put on my sweatshirt when I have my coffee, that sweet chill in the air. I feel it when I make a faux spread sheet on a piece of Eliana's drawing paper while the children sleep. Monday through Friday, smaller boxes mark Saturday and Sunday. A.M. and P.M. the sections read. Lots of colons. Headings like: Drop-off and Pick-up. Dinner and Clean-up. Sol and Elie. Yoga and bike rides.

I'm not exactly a spread sheet kinda gal (which is why I used folded boxes and a pen). But I am a gal who anticipates change. And wants to make it positive change. God knows I just finally settled into my summer gig. Staying home with the kids, making the most of it, appreciating where I live and the gentle nature of my community and surroundings. The sweet ease. And I've been doing alright with park trips and ice cream cones, doctors visits and play dates. And suddenly I'm staring down the last week of summer, meeting with Sol's daycare, buying Eliana markers and a box of number twos. Deep breath. Big sigh.

So back to the spread sheet. I had one of those serendipitous Missoula days today. The noon class I was supposed to sub was cancelled. After shlepping the kids to the park to be with a babysitter, I decided to take the hour for myself. Which meant, at least today, running into an absurd number of people I know who I actually wanted to talk to. So I didn't exactly get a lot done, but I like to think that I ran into that motley crew for a reason and that they all had something important to say. Or, at least, for me to take.

One of those people was a fiery, bright, organizer type of friend. Lovely dancer. Fellow mama of two. She started talking about the spread sheets she and her hubby made up to navigate the rocky waters of parenting, working, socializing and trying to be their darndest selves. You even put who does the dishes on the spreadsheet? You even put who makes the kids lunches? I was mildly incredulous. We are just not that organized around here. But homegirl had a valid point. Dial it in. Have the expectations. Set the bar. Raise it.

So when we're in the right place, I'll bust out my creation for my husband. We'll talk about why it's important to me. At least in theory. At least in attempt. Because lord only knows, there's way too much that I want to do. I want to be teaching my yoga class but I really want to feed my children dinner and I want to choreograph this piece that is building in my busy brain and I really want to finish my insanely awesome book and I really, really want to build another fort with Eliana and watch Sol try his hardest to climb to the top. Want to watch the way they love on each other. The way he cracks her up. The way she takes care of him. The way they get older and smarter and more beautiful every day. I want to meet my girlfriends for wine and talk fast and furious and deep. I want to walk my dog in the hills and listen to new music. I want to go on a date with my husband and not be interrupted when we enjoy our food. I want that full, rich life every precious and layered day.

So, gosh darn it, I'm setting up the spread sheet. We'll pencil it all in. We'll attempt it all.

getting out

2011-08-10T21:25:00.001-07:00

Sometimes going away is the key to unlocking the present.

The gift of time away together is one of the most tremendous gifts I can give our family. For whatever reason, when away from the intensity of our day to day, our best selves shine. The transitions and naps and hours logged in the car feel almost effortless. The kids are so darn elated to be with us all day. We're so happy not to have anything more pressing than our next meal to worry about. There's an unprecedented presence to it all.

There are the unexpected activities (or rather, things you never expected you'd be a part of).

Things we've never tried. That we'd love to try again.

Things splendid in their simplicity.

Simple beauty. The beauty in repetition.

When all we have is the sun and the sand. The dunes and our ratty array of sand toys. A giant kite. A couple of bikes.

Sweatshirts and sunscreen. The rhythm of the tides, sunsets, happy hours.

When moving from alone time to kid time to recreational time is so seamless because they are all so appealing.

And where would be without our friends and family. The way that they so wholly embrace our loud, ecstatic, unpredictable set. Roll with us.

Encourage us to actually eat without our children. How simple this concept is! How much I've pushed the chaotic family dinner on us all. But when we spend all day together the dining table is trumped. Let the children meander through their meals, toss their food, dunk them in the tub and call it a night. Salmon and steaks await. A big glass of wine. A table full of ideas and thoughts. Adults. What a concept.

So here we are. Back home. Staring down the last few weeks of summer. Trying to not get too engulfed in the idea of another seasonal shift, another dramatic shake to our attempts at ebb and flow.

And so many questions to bring to the table. How to stay equal players in it all? How to stay present when we go back to living by the school bell. How to not worry so intensely about everything? When I bring Sol to day-care for, gulp, the whole day. And Elie has a new classroom and a new daily routine. I breathe deep and look up from the computer. The sky is perfect above the north hills. The sun just warm enough. My coffee finally cold. It's time to press forward. To bring our lessons back into the day. To stop pouring over these insane and gorgeous images. To surrender to change. To the blessings in every detail.

dreamers

2011-07-22T17:07:00.000-07:00

thank you, nici, for that gorgeous pic of my girl...

It's 6:07 on Friday evening and I'm ready to go. My two best friends are playing a gig that started seven minutes ago at the Top Hat Family Friendly Friday. This event is one of our best family outings. Even better when my girls croon their sweet harmonies. I'm working on my percussion skills so I can join the act. For now, I've gotta stay a fan.

The kids have been asleep for a couple of hours. It was a busy, unbusy summer Friday. Groceries and park and a random stop over at a friend's, turned spontaneous playdate. I felt relaxed and one with them, never hurried nor harried, just in it to win it, the perfect place to be for me as a mama.

Eliana has taken to her new age with such grace. Her ease in her own skin, in her place in it all, seems to be rubbing off on me. She's been saying these sweet, astute things lately. Things like, Mom, I'd really like to get a salad for lunch at the Good Food Store. Because that's healthy food for a healthy body. Where does she come from? So instead of the cheesy bagel I'd contemplated, we go through the salad bar, getting healthy food for our healthy bodies. We actually ate lunch calmly. She ate her food without having to be prodded. She shared edamame with her brother. She tickled him and told him how much she loved him. I just sat there with my beets and spinach marveling at it all. Who are these incredible humans and how was I blessed with their care? Could her hair be any more beautiful? His smile any more wild? Her words more articulate, his moves more sturdy? How can I capture this feeling within myself every single day that I get to be their mother. Wholly present. No concern for time. No concern for what's next or all that has to get done. My best self all caught up in their best self instead of a totally different equation, one that has to be found in time I carve away from them. If I could nail this mama thing the way I did today? Even now, as the clock pushes 6:15 and all I want to do is watch my girls, but how the heck can I wake those dreamy babies?

Their door is open and I keep lurking around them. Eliana found her Night Night and she cradles it beneath her chin, orange dress wrapped around her bruised knees. Sol is like a little log on his belly. His pink sleepy sack a perfect bag for his sturdy limbs. They are everything to me. They are peace. Help my breath settle, help me slow down, take in, surrender to this very now.

and then there's sol

2011-07-21T10:58:00.000-07:00

Ah, sweet, sweet Solomon. He's something for me to focus on right now. He had a rough morning. Dragged a step stool into a new room for himself. Experimented with getting on and off. Landed himself with the stool on top of him. Frustrated, scared, hurt. As often happens, I didn't see where he was hit, so I spend lots of time examining, holding, holding, holding. Lately he's really into being held. Being held or taking himself on adventures. It's like he's at the baby/toddler crossroads, trying to decide if he wants to be big and strong, or little and weak. Generally he cruises. Races. Flips and uncovers. It's a fascinating journey, keeping up with my Sol. Exhausting. Sweet.

But then he has moments like this morning, where all the kisses and jostles won't stop his tears, where his sultry lips inflate with sadness, quiver in front of his funny little teeth. He didn't want me to leave me in his crib. I felt that helplessness that is being the mama of a baby. What do you want? How can I make it better? Just rest and sleep. Please, baby. Please.

That was almost three hours ago. I just peeked in on him. And had another mama moment. Checked that his little back was moving up and down, that air was moving through him, that he was fine. Because that's how heavy this is. I'm trying to keep little people alive. Thriving. Healthy. Strong. No wonder I feel a little off-kilter lately. This is a big gig to do well day after day after day.

So sweet Sol sleeps. I have one more hour before I need to pick up Elie from camp, one hour in which I planned to do all I needed to do with just the babe in tow. But he needs to sleep. Recover. Grow. So instead of wandering the house thinking about all the housework that needs to be done that I have no desire to do, will put my energy towards holding this moment. This moment where my baby is doing the tremendous work of growing. My baby.

Eliana extended her birthday celebration with a swell party yesterday. Her school friends and "old" friends were there in full force. The day wasn't too hot, the park a perfect place for their comings and goings, Michael Jackson busting from the stereo, beer and wine and juice boxes, cupcakes and Pirate's booty. She and Soraya shared the role of birthday queen with grace. Thank goodness. They tend to get a bit dramatic with each other. Thankfully they brought their best selves to the party.

Which is what I'm asking from myself lately. To bring my best self to the party. There's a bit of darkness that's bubbling up, a bit of oh my babies are growing up and where will I put all this energy I've poured into them for so long, the commitment to my best self, mama style. Mama's coming out. Mama's coming undone. Sort of. With the containment that only Mama can have. As she wipes down the counters, folds the onesie, drives the car, bakes the cake. Watches her baby's back to make sure his breaths are heavy, deep. There's a lot to this. And it's all still pretty damn new. Navigating. Breathing.

waka waka

2011-07-17T09:25:00.000-07:00

birthday week

2011-07-17T07:53:00.001-07:00

I've always been a believer in making celebrations last as long as they can. That concept has sparked the notion of a birthday week. And Els embraced hers like a champ. Birthday week found us back in the swing of all things summer in Montana. A spontaneous day up at Snowbowl for pizza and meandering and, gulp, the super scary chairlift ride (scary for me, not for the kids).

A daddy-daughter date to the Osprey game, where Eliana learned her first lesson about birthday experiences versus birthday gifts.

Eliana's first summer camp. She biked herself there...

And spent the afternoons in the yard with her two best friends, the hose and her bro. Oh, and ice-cream. Sol's new best friend is ice-cream.

Eliana finally found herself on the big day. A morning spent unwrapping presents sent from her far-away loved ones.

A mama-daughter birthday date at the Farmer's market where she got to have her face painted and pick out whatever treats she wanted (all those delicious handmade goods and she chose a Sponge Bob popsicle from Captain Hooks truck...). And finally, a trip to the carousel with her daddy and brother where she aced everyone in line and found herself on Paint. We kinda pretended not to know her....but she certainly knows how to get what she wants. The second time she tried to race to the front, she was busted and sent to the back of the line. Watch out, world. Here she is.

And this morning, over breakfast...

Do you need help cutting your french toast, Els?
No, that's okay, I can do it myself because I'm four.
Well, what are you going to cut it with?
A knife.
Can I get you a knife.
No, thanks, I can do it myself. I'm four now.

While sawing away...

Mama, I had the best dream last night! I was at Biga Pizza with my family and I had on my birthday hat and I was blowing out my candle, because I'm four!

Happy birthday to my beautiful, strong, spirited, bright, incredible four year old. Thank you for bringing out the best in us all. Thank you for teaching me more than I ever could have imagined.

there and back

2011-07-12T13:54:00.000-07:00

After nearly a month away, it's hard to know where to begin. I got a bit fired up the other night and wrote about the transition from where I was raised to the home I chose. I hadn't fully settled back in. Now I have. Now I can appreciate every ounce that is Missoula. Now I can move on, look back, and try to gather some thoughts for posterity. While I didn't bring a camera, it's seemed so large, so extranneous on such a big journey, I do have my words. And a few shots my mom took. Cuz that's what mom's do.

We had a tremendous trip. Spent the first action packed week in New Jersey. Top five memories include Eliana rocking the Jersey shore, eyes like tremendous, excited orbs as she ran from one carnival ride to the next, a rocket ship to a crazy school bus to flying alligators. We then found ourselves playing in the Atlantic, Sol would race wildly towards the waves with his usual unabashed style, me waiting at the water's edge to catch him. Jack tossed Elie above the waves. Anabel and Kelli cruised the shore a bit more gently. Gini and Roseann laughed and waved and cheered.

A lunch in NYC with my two best friends from elementary school. It's been 25 years. Facebook finds us face to face at a new, swanky restaurant in the village. As if a minute hadn't gone by. They looked exactly the same. We could have stayed all day. All night. I didn't want it to end. Too many details to fill in, expand on, recreate. Thank you, ladies. Thank you, thank you for being part of my full circle.

Another Eliana's face moment as we came up the stairs from Penn Station, landing smack dab in the middle of Manhattan. Perhaps that wild naivete is in part where the aforementioned rant came from. My girl's born and bred in Montana. Bright lights, honking cabs, hustle and bustle, it's all new. Thank goodness for our belief in travel, our bi-coastal family, our connection to our roots to keep her world a bit more open.

Chillin' in Jeff's folks house. Looking at old pictures. Remembering the first time I visited his family in New Jersey. How simple things were. How obvious it was to me that I was in love with a man who was very loved. Adored. Soli and Anabel on the staircase, hands wrapped around the bars like little jailbirds, singing their, "AHHHHHH's!" Morty in his chair telling Eliana to Watch the Baby! The bittersweetness that is age and change and the unknown.

The night of the Long Island wedding. A ten-piece cover band with all my favorite jams. A set of babysitters with our children in the hotel room. Full bar. Dance floor. An unabashed commitment to their Michael Jackson medley. That feeling in my being that screamed, I love to move with my whole self! No one here needs me! I am free in my body to move and thrash and swing and sing and hopefully they'll be asleep when we return.

Then we crossed the country on a coupla planes, Mama and her two babes. We all rose to the occasion. The hours and snacks and waltz up and down the aisles. The crayons and etch-a-sketch and DVD player that never seems to last a fraction of the time I need. I looked at the rest of the passengers with envy, their nifty gadgets all compact and high-tech. Next time, I swear.

Then it was back to my home land. The sunshine and freeways. The colors and textures of home. Our time in L.A. was a bit less razz-ma-tazz, a bit more down home. Logged some good play time in my mama's condo. Watched her fall in love with big Sol and his toothy grin, his bonked head, his lover's lips. Took an African dance class and went out for drinks. Laughed hard and loud. Checked my phone ten thousand times to see if the kids were up. They slept and we stayed out. Freedom, baby. I'm a sucker.

Spent the weekend at my sister's beach home. Logged a rockin' beach day with a plethora of sand toys, sunscreen bottles, savory snacks. Took a much needed swim in the sweet Pacific. Again, just my body and the rhythm of the waves. A lifetime of memory and comfort, the hops and dives and tune of the sea. The first dip of my head beneath the water. The satisfied saunter back up the beach upon completion. Such a strong part of who I am those ocean waves.

And mainly just enjoying the vibe of where I'm from and the people I love. South Pasadena on the Fourth? Nothing like it. The pancake breakfast at the fire house, the goofy poster contest and parade down Mission? Love it. The way Eliana got right in the mix all naked and wild in the slip and slide bouncer at the park? The best.

Light night talks with my mom. Early afternoon cocktails with my mom. Random errands around town with my mom. How she knows me so, so well. How I think she's the coolest. And Hil and her incredible studio and commitment to art and community and potential. I come from some tremendous stock. I am so proud of my people.

My friend Melissa reminded me the other day that for as much as I love Missoula, I gave up a whole hell of a lot to be here. I come back to that comment a lot. Thanks, sister. I already owe you like a grand for Verizon therapy. It's nice that most of my people seem to have advanced degrees in some form of psychology. I seem to need a bit more professional help these days. It's a lot. The kids and the jobs and the husband and the reintegration of selves. The passions and creativity and choices and chaos. The exhaustion. The work. The love. A whole heck of a lot.

This time.

thanks

2011-07-11T14:30:00.000-07:00

I needed to process some feelings last night about the world I hail from and the world I chose. My girlfriend suggested I write about it. I did. It was fiery and feisty and negative and conflicted. It wasn't my most glorious hour. But it certainly helped me process.

Today an Anonymous commenter told me something along the lines of I either get over it or move back to LA. That was just the perspective I needed. Because what I was feeling had nothing to do with moving back to LA. It had to do with an appreciation of that place for certain. But it was more about the paths we don't take. And how there is beauty and grace in all of it. While my tone might have been negative to the homogeneity of Missoula, it was only as a means of processing. But some processing is probably better left in my head.

So thanks, Anonymous. And you say you know me. I guess I am putting all this on the internet. What a crazy world.

Be back soon with what I do best. Shiny memories and heavy appreciation.

lately 2

2011-07-11T13:04:00.001-07:00

Thanks, sweet friends, for the emails and calls saying to put this back up. It's pretty pathetic that I let one person's comment derail me so, but I'm a pleaser and I certainly never want to hurt anyone. I took out a few of the f-bombs and added a few more disclaimers. I love being home. I love where I came from. Where I choose to be is a struggle I've dealt with since I moved away. And, of course, far beyond color versus nature, the crux of the family is my choice to raise my children far from their flesh and blood. I love my parents and my sisters more than anything in the world. I want them to know my children as well as they know me. That's why I spend most of my cash on plane tickets. It's what we do.

It's been a month since I've written on this here blog. Most of that time has seen me and my crew on the road. And after all that time, all those experiences, memories, moments, feelings, frustrations, exhilaration, it feels pretty damn overwhelming to attempt to document. Overwhelming and unnecessary. Because if this is for me, I've been too caught up in it all to stop and write anything down. It makes me a bit edgy and twitchy. A bit like I take myself too seriously. Why do I write it all down at all?

So this isn't about memories. Or maybe it is. I don't know what I'm doing right now. Just moving. Moving, moving, moving. Loving. In it to win it.

Elie turns four on Saturday. The past four years have seen all things Eliana, all things Solomon, sorta all things Kessler fam, sorta all things me. But lately I feel like paying attention to a lot more me. And as tremendous as their milestones are (Elie does Manhattan! Solomon loves the beach! Planes, trains, subways and freeways! Family is fabulous!) it's all feeling pretty overwhelming. I've been so tightly wound by it all for so long. I hit this place lately where I just want to cruise again. Want to not care so much about every morsel of food that enters our collective systems. Want to stay out late and dance. Want to not care about the next morning. Want to be honest and real and raw and fabulous.

My friend Mooney rocks silver glitter eyeliner (top and bottom) every day. I love it. She gave me a glitter stick so that I'll remember to add some sparkle to my life when I saw her in L.A. It lingers in my medicine cabinet as a little reminder. I dotted a few flecks around my laugh lines before I taught my yoga class. It got the job done. I want to line my eyes with silver. I want to not care what other people think.

I came from a land of diversity. I only knew myself, my family, in relation to the other. The others. And we were all in it together. When Donna got to go to Japanese school every Saturday in elementary school, I pretended to be half so I could go to the annual carnival and eat azuki beans on shaved ice. When I spent the night at Alicia's house, we'd eat menudo for Sunday breakfast. When we went out with Emily for dim sum, I learned how a real woman fights with her friends to pay the bill, all those little Aunties shouting and grabbing. I like music with loud, strong bass lines, the way they shake the house windows, let you hear someone whose coming from far.

While we're at it, I kinda hate bluegrass. Please don't tell all my friends here. I love the music they make. But it just doesn't move me the same way. Lower my rims, baby. Pump my bass.

So I've been readjusting to life in the glorious valley. Did my heart skip a beat when we hovered over the green, the majesty of the Clark Fork winding her way through our town like something from a freakin' postcard? Indeed. Did I gasp just a bit when I smelled the clean air of early summer? Of course. But did it feel a bit looney when I pulled up to Bonner Park the next night to go to Elie's BFF's birthday and everyone was shiny, happy, outdoorsy, fit, white with exactly two perfect kids? Hell yes. It all felt a little, ahem, gag me with a Chaco. Where I'm from, no one, no one, knows what those mother's are. If they do, they hide it. If they do, they only wore them on a river trip because that's what they were told to get.

But please dismiss my high horse. I have Chacos. I wear Chacos! I need my damn Chacos in the summer. My friends don't really all wear them...(we all just have them!) Any one who really knows me knows that I don't mean to be so malevolent and judge-y. And of course all my friends are tremendous individuals with their own passions and idiosyncrasies . We can define diversity in myriad ways. Screw the mountains. It's my friends, it's the people, who keep me here. My best friends know that.

So what kind of flaming hypocrite am I? Not so sure.

So there. I've said it. I love Missoula. Adore it. But it feels a teeny tiny bit barfy after I've got three weeks of city on. Three weeks with my people. With anonymity. With that added ballsy edge. Where people look each other in the eye and don't smile. And my laid back coast, it really is a big part of who I am. That said, it also felt really exhausting. And foreign. And style-y. So maybe I'm just a big ass contradiction who wants it all. Probably. Or maybe I'm just trying to feel my feelings so I can move on and go back to writing about my kids and their phenomenal milestones. God knows I'm good at that. And I love them. More than anything.

But how can I give them everything? How can I show them all there is in this big, beautiful world? How can I have my ying with my yang? My Wong and my Fang? My Gutierrez, my Apiphany, Destiny and Denisia. It's all so clean and shiny and white and perfect. And easy. And beautiful. And spirited. And loving. Embracing. Nurturing. Cured me of my ailments. Rooted and ground me. Moved me in ways I never imagined. A bear crosses my path in the park a block from my house. I marvel at the cherries as they go from blossom to green knob to red burst. And my garden! Me! It's wild and unabashed and disorganized. But it blooms. The flowers return. They smile back up at me as if to say, see, you love it here! Remember us? We always find our way from out beneath the frozen, white earth. Embrace us. All of it.

late night shennanigans

2011-06-12T21:00:00.000-07:00

So it's my first summer Sunday. Summer Sundays are the best because that Sunday night deep breath, oh Lordy it's another crazy week feeling I usually have on Sunday nights suddenly vanishes. Now the sun suddenly disappears and it's like, oh Lordy, I don't have any single thing on the calendar except hang with kids, deal with naps, hang with kids. It's a glorious thought. So the sun is setting and I'm screwing around on the computer and Elie and Sol have both been seemingly asleep for forty five minutes or so. A few times I thought I heard something, but then it was quiet again for a long spell. And then I hear the door creek. And my wild haired girl, picture a jacked up, electrocuted Einstein with a big, pink Strawberry Shortcake band-aid below her eyebrow, shuffles out. She spots some floss sitting by the computer (don't ask...) and says, Uh, Mama...uh, I, I just forgot to floss. So I give her the floss instead of the talking to she'd get on a real Sunday night. Because we're caught up in the novelty of new Sunday mode, I don't really care that much and go gently, go mellow. Let her floss. We hang. Talk to Auntie Hilary on the phone. Tell her about the sorta minty floss. And then I bring her back in the room.

The first thing I notice is that the white noise machine has been turned off. Or rather, unplugged. Then I see that both the Princess and the Cat in the Hat night lights are turned on. I put her in the bed and whisper some sort of terse remark about not playing with the outlets. I then glance into Sol's crib. It's been newly adorned with all sorts of random toys from their room, apparently while he was sleeping. I mumble something about leaving his crib alone, especially when he's asleep and she loudly whispers something about how she wanted to give him all his special babies. I tiptoe out at which point Big Sol must realize there's a party in his room, stands from his sleep, and begins jumping up and down.

Holy goodness. School or no school, won't these children just sleep already?

the end of an era

2011-06-07T08:29:00.000-07:00

Today is the last day of Eliana's first year of pre-school. I can hardly believe it. The end of an era. The end of my debut performance as a mother of two. A mother of an infant. The mother of a school girl. My first attempts to be a full-time juggler. And I have to say, I've done okay. Not always graceful, but certainly heart felt. In it to win it. Day after busy, busy day.

I can feel the end of the year exhaustion sweep through my family. I went to bed when it was still light out last night. Eliana could have slept in forever this morning. Rain pelts the ground, sucks the relentless energy out of this time, forces us to surrender until the sun returns. I appreciate the rain today. Gives me a chance to hunker. To finish writing my report cards. To begin to deal with the chaos in my basement. To go inward and reflect a bit before we race towards another season. Spring always feels the fastest. I watch the buds change overnight. My cherry blossoms seemed to last but a day. The lilacs are already losing their scent, turning brown. Just when you settle into a new kind of beauty, the view alters.

Like one minute your girl is two. She ignores her brother for a really long time. She freaks out and can't be reasoned with.

Then that same girl has completed her first year of school, full-time. She's almost four. She adores her brother. They play together for hours. She sees what a gift he is.

And that sweet little baby is a sweet little boy. A boy who can tease his sister right back. Saunter right up with the toy she wants and then fake to the left, a giant, still almost toothless grin on his elfin face. She whines, but laughs. Tackles him down. Gets the object. And he's right back up, going after it again.

Sol remains a boy of few words. But boy can he move. And while there's not a whole lot of room in this house to be heard, there's room for him to be seen. He knows every last inch of the abode, has found items I haven't seen in years from the backs of bookshelves, beneath kitchen sinks, shoved in the bowels of my closet. I adore him.

His sister too. She remains full of more words than I can keep up with. Two languages worth, with songs and dances to accompany her every whim or mood. I wish I had a picture of her in her end of the year performance last Friday. She sang and danced her heart out to Shakira. More than one person came up to me and commented on how into it she was. People who didn't even realize she was mine. But of course she is...

This morning the thought of being at home with both of them all day, every day, for three months felt a bit overwhelming. Then after working my tail off organizing files, negotiating with nine year olds through one last day of listening, reviewing reading test scores, it hit me. I get to put all my energy into just two odd, beautiful little people! And they are mine! I'll have the creativity I need, the patience I need, because it will all be going to them. Shift in attitude. Shift in energy. And while it feels a bit premature and Polyannaish of me to say it...I think we can do it. I think we'll succeed.

to cali and back

2011-05-30T13:28:00.000-07:00

I love where I'm from. It's electric. It has a pulse. A bass beat blaring from a lowered Honda. People shine. They strut. They get into it.

We hopped on down for a forty eight hour adventure. It was supposed to be just me and Sol but at the last minute my mama surprised us and bought Elie a ticket. I had a special date with my sisters to celebrate Wendy's 50th. Glee Live, baby. A singing, dancing, Staples center spectacular. L.A. in all her glittering trimmings. And damn can those kids sing. And jam. Brittany S. Pierce is a force. I sure do love talent.

That followed by expensive, yet ever so deserving drinks and snacks. Freakishly good mescal and honey and chili number in a tiny, retro glass. Spicy fried polenta cakes. Enough already!

And my kids rocked it hard on the planes. It's a surprisingly easy trip. All they want to do is socialize. They're super good at that. Sol and I did some serious aisle strolling. He really likes it when the plane's at a bit of an incline and he can run downhill while putting out his hand for people to high five. He gets quite an array of responses. Some people think he's a hoot. Others are not too down with his personal space invasion. I keep on an apologetic, hey-what-can-I-do smile on throughout.

What else? Enjoyed train travel down to Little Tokyo. L.A.'s so much swankier than it used to be and it's fun to revisit old neighborhoods and take in all the swankification. I love it. L.A. was a bit of a pit when I was growing up. There were plenty of places I wouldn't have wanted to park my car during my high school escapades that are all shiny and new now. I think I parked my car in those places anyway because I was always attracted to mildly adventurous dangers. But now I can bring my children into those 'hoods and not even feel guilty!

In a few weeks we leave for a grand family tour. First a week in Jersey for a wedding and a Kessler hunkerdown. Then I head sola again to LaLa land to see all of my peeps and share my children with their many admirers. Until then, it's time to enjoy the electric green that is this June, the bursting buds, the last days of one, wild year.

my toddler

2011-05-24T08:13:00.001-07:00

I think I'm going to be one of those mamas that's nursing her kid when he's, as my friend Jody put it, doing simple addition. I never thought I'd go this way. I remember being in a parent teacher conference the first year I moved to Missoula. The mama had her four year old in her lap. He took a bite of bagel. He looked up at her. Milk? He articulated clearly. And out it came, right on the other side of my desk. Just a little something to wash down the carbs.

I love how groovy Missoula is. I'd never seen the likes at a parent teacher conference in Los Angeles. Hell, the parents barely even showed up to those. I had to wander the 'hood, knocking on apartment doors, trying to get a five or ten minute conversation in while these mamacitas dealt with their tremendous lives, stirred a giant vat of refried beans, five children underfoot in a one bedroom apartment, all big, needy brown eyes, the sound of Mexican radio blaring from the windows above and below.

Here we are blessed in many ways. Have bike trailers and farmer's markets. All claim to be kinda poor, yet all eat organic. Have tremendous educations and bright children. Hike trails out our back doors and then meet in the park for play dates. We spoil our children in our own, extremely attentive ways. And we tend to nurse for a long, long time.

There are quite a few reasons why it could be argued that I wean. Sleep being the first. A bit of autonomy the second. But when I say, "How about a little nurse?" and Sol chuckles like an old drunk, I know I can't give it up. When we've been in the bath but a minute and he dive bombs across my body for my boob and Elie shouts, "Watch out mom! Here comes Soli!" and we all get such a good laugh out of his determination, I wonder how I could ever deny him. This is a kid, too, who eats anything. We're not exactly in it for the nutritional value any more. He gained the weight he needed to gain and I think Dr. J's off my back. But there's something about this one thing. Maybe it's because I know it's the last time I'll use my body this way. My body that is so impressive. The way she works hard and makes milk and goes to a three hour inversion workshop, her core trying, trying to do what it used to. Thank you, humble body. Thank you for serving us all so well.

gorgeous birthday pics taken by Aimee

year one: a reflection

2011-05-16T15:30:00.000-07:00

I have been a mother of two for a year.
Hands down one of the most rewarding, love-filled, ethereal, exhausting, brilliant, beautiful and challenging years of my life. I had my first night away from my children on Saturday. I haven't felt that peaceful inside in a really, really long time. I savored silence. Stillness. The quiet places between time, between words, between thoughts. Nothing was jolting. No sudden shifts in mood. The cries in the night. The whines from an over-tired girl. Just old friends, just warm water, just the celebration of this journey that we've been on together for a while now.

I really missed Eliana. I really missed Sol. I was ready to return. But I don't feel totally ready to re-enter. Halfway through the eggs and oatmeal and crusts being cut off and jacked up coffee grinder and No I wanted my polka dotted rain boots, not my ballet shoes! and dog scratching at the back door and general upheaval that is a morning in my home, I wanted to run. I wanted to scream. I wanted to take out my hearing aids, throw off my glasses and bury my head in the pillow. I didn't want to listen or help. Feel or care.

I wanted another night at the hot springs. I wanted my coffee in silence. I had a taste of the that sweet nectar and I wasn't ready to go back cold turkey.

And, honestly, the day hasn't gotten a whole lot better. I've settled into it. The time away feels thoroughly distant. Elie and I had our first real fight in months. The baby screamed through the whole thing. I was so thoroughly pissed, it seemed absolutely irrational.

Didn't you just get your alone time? Your away time? You should be back rested and rejuvenated, all Mary Poppins and Maria Von Trapp rolled into one. Blessed and sweet, thankful and shiny.

Instead I feel all edgy and raw, like there's so much to unpack and so little time. Those hours in deep conversation, warm water, the wooden deck that wrapped around and kept the wind at bay, the perfect setting for a perfect meal, our new favorite bottle of wine, poetry and honesty and depth, friendships uninterrupted, I need more of that. I crave it. Need it like sunshine. Like water.

There is so much to this time in my life. Those women I was with, those friendships, they were wholly founded on our collective understanding of this immense time we're in. We were pregnant together, sat through birth classes, cat cowed and chanted, brought each other meals after the babies came, listened through birth stories, sleep stories, the stories of firsts, of marriages faltering, reviving, of selves breaking apart and coming together. Then we all went and did it again and the layers deepened, the branches grew heavy with new fruit. And for twenty four shining hours we were able to enjoy each other in our rawest form. Ourselves without all that. Even though, of course, it was all there. With, yet without, all the new and intricate and tremendous layers.

I don't have anywhere to go with this. I want to write down how I'm feeling so that I might move thorough it, but also so I can remember how valuable that time was for me. And really quite simple, when all is said and done. The children did great. Jeff was a rock star. I came home. And we began another Monday.

uh oh

2011-05-13T16:29:00.000-07:00

Solomon's birthday coincided with the return of the sunshine and all things green. Missoula has transformed herself overnight. All of her inhabitants walk around with giddy grins after months and months of the grimaces brought by too much gray and white. I again wholly proclaim, I love it here.

Mother's Day was a mellow, sweet affair. Downtown gave us plenty to do and between parades and pony rides, we were pretty damn satisfied. The all you can eat sushi dinner, all in the name of Japan disaster relief was a perfect ending. Oh how Els loves her fresh salmon. Sol seems to be more of a tempura guy.

The best thing about the return of the sun is that our house multiplies in size. Where once we were stepping on each other and tripping over down coats, we can now enjoy our yard, our deck, our swing. And that gives Sol all sorts of new things to get nutty about. His first words beyond Mom and Dad, "Uh oh...!" Uh oh is right.

fiesta

2011-05-04T15:45:00.000-07:00

We threw a good shindig for Soli's first. The best part of it all was I really enjoyed myself. He really enjoyed himself. Elie and Jeff seemed pretty darn happy too. I am committed to enjoying every party I throw for the rest of my life. I refuse to be a haggard host. So once people arrived I stopped worrying about whether or not the tortillas were warm, assumed people would get their own drinks, and kicked back.

Everyone who was a part of Solomon's arrival into the world was there. The rain stayed away and we actually enjoyed my yard, albeit in puffy coats. And the placenta. That amazing, beautiful organ I could have played with for way too long. It's probably good I wasn't left alone with the thawed, bloody placenta because I could have got really lost marveling and handling it. It was brilliant. But we had guests...

I haven't downloaded my pics yet, but Casey sent me these beauties. It's a way to get the ball rolling. Brilliant memories.

A Year Ago Today

2011-05-02T14:12:00.000-07:00

A Year Ago Today

A year ago
today
the arrowleaf balsam root
raised their unwavering
yellow heads,
beacons of happiness,
of the welcome brightening
that is spring.

A year ago
today
your sister
danced in a pink tutu
across the hard wood,
sang her ABC's with
pride, entertained and
amazed
while we waited.

A year ago
today
I heaved my heavy body
through another day.
Read to the children about a
miraculous bunny named Edward Tulane,
entered the world of the story
with my whole
self,
the whole, ephemeral self
that is the forty week
pregnant woman.

She is beyond herself.
She both floats above and
burrows deep.

A year ago
today
I took myself to lunch.
Oh how I love Bernice's
red pepper spread,
that perfect ratio of
turkey to swiss to
fresh bread,
a quiet bit in another,
full Monday.

Fuel.

Preparation.

A year ago
today
I took a 4:00 bath.
Perhaps early,
certainly earned.
My belly rumbled and stirred,
the cramps I've known
for twenty years,
amplified and familiar.
The belly of a woman
is always up to something.

A year ago
today
I thought
perhaps
this is it.
Called a friend.
We sat together
in the soft yellow
candlelight and
listened to my ladies
croon,
held their harmonies,
created safe,
holy space.

A year ago
today
I pressed my whole self
into the edge of the couch,
cat cowed on my mat,
paced very, very slowly.

Calm.
Familiar.

A year ago
today
I let them lead me to
my bed.
Let them tell me
what to do.
Let me tell me.
Let you.

Gripped the etched bed post,
understood the ornateness
the carvings on the wood,
in a whole new way.
The bed.
The bed of your birth.

The wisdom of a midwife
and a woman and a
baby
looking
for light.

A year ago
today
there were three
mighty surges.
A big boy
head.
The wide shoulders.
The ecstasy.

And there you were
in my bed.
In my arms.

My perfect son.
My life
whole.

ceremony

2011-05-02T13:57:00.000-07:00

I saw Jeannie today for the first time since our six week check-up. It kinda felt like going home. You develop such an intense relationship with a midwife. I hopped up on the table like I was at an old friend's house. Jeannie was so kind. Told me that she's done over a thousand births and doesn't remember many, but can remember Sol's perfectly. That made me feel pretty special. Made me savor those memories even more.

I'm having a little party for him tomorrow. Of course, while it's 60 degrees and sunny now, the forecast for tomorrow is cool and rainy. The lilac tree I bought to plant with his placenta sits on my picnic table. And while the weather perhaps won't be ideal for the kind of ceremony I want, I'm going to go with it anyway.

Planning gatherings can be a challenge in our small town. We have so many friends, old and new. Jeff and I decided we wanted this party to be about Sol. About the few friends he's made, the people who have grown to love him and the people who helped bring him into the world. It's a party more focused on his birth, my birthing day, and then how things fell into place from there. And even though I've been fairly discerning about invites, I still will be making something special for twenty or so friends to dine on tomorrow.

The fridge is packed. The house a disaster. I'm tuckered and need to take a few minutes to sit. Then it's off to grate carrots for a cake, whip butter with cream cheese, marinate the pork. Because life is about ceremony. And he's only one once.

solomina

2011-04-30T08:37:00.000-07:00

This spring finds me in an odd sort of time warp. While last weekend was sunny, this week has brought rain and snow and hail and more frigid temperatures. The buds are bursting, but keep getting shut down, never truly allowed to unveil. My heat is cranked back to 70. I watch hard little balls of hail hit my picnic table, drop into the orange bottle of bubbles left open when we thought it was all over, when we thought we'd be outside every afternoon. It's been a true Montana winter. Continues to be. My only true mark of time seems to be the boxes on my calendar, as the weather keeps changing her mind.

But the time warp has to do with Solomon. He turns one on Tuesday. And there's something about these gray, cold days that bring me back to the days before his birth. I remember the Saturday before, a cold spring Saturday morning just like this one. We went to the first Farmer's market of the year. Found ourselves back at home. Nici came over and took pictures. The house was bursting with anticipation. We had no idea what he'd be like.

A year later, and I can't even imagine a world without Sol. His jolly spirit. His love of life and action and people. Solomina, as Elie dubbed. Mina for short. We all seem to have taken to the nickname. You should see Mina in action. He rocks a tutu pretty hard. Sissy loves to dress him up. They play mommy and baby. She gave him a kiss on the head this morning, grabbed a dog leash and said, Bye bye, sweetie! Mommy's going to get her exercise.
She shut the door behind her. Then walked back in.
I'm back, sweetie! How was your day?

She's really starting to love him. They are playmates. And it's the most beautiful thing ever.

The hail has now turned to big, fat, wet snowflakes. It's a day to curl up with blankets and read on the sofa. Write poems. Bake a big batch of cookies. Stay in jammies.

But we have to motivate. In an hour we have a brunch to go to. A baby shower for one of our oldest Missoula friends, friends we thought wouldn't have babies. Got a call last week from one of my BFF's in Cali. Another one who maybe wasn't going to take the plunge. And she's seventeen weeks. There's something about these friends being pregnant that makes me feel so deeply happy. This opportunity to live their lives fully in a completely new way. Both friends are total life lovers, dream followers. Their dreams for many, many years have had nothing to do with children. Yet here they are. Their worlds are about to expand in ways they never imagined.

And the really cool thing is, after your world is opened and amplified and over-run, a year goes by. Then two and three and four. And suddenly, you are in a place to follow those old dreams. They don't need you the same way. Life has expanded and, yet, there you are again. Your same, lovely self. Changed forever, yet still the same. Good lord this is rambly. But I think I have a point.

Last night I looked back at images of Eliana's first year. Once again I affirmed this blog. I don't regret writing a single thing down. I was so unselfconscious in my writing then. So raw. Let it all hang out. I want to get back to that. This is for me. For them.

The snow is now dumping. Ridiculous. The picnic table has turned white. Tomorrow is the first day of May. I sigh. Shake my head. Solomon sleeps. Elie's curled up to Madeline. Blocks and legos and dress up clothes and books are strewn about. All is as it should be.

sunshine!

2011-04-25T14:08:00.000-07:00

We had our first sunny weekend since forever and I have not felt happier in a long time. It's the simple things, you know? Sunshine. Water. A bit of sleep. Nana and Pop took Eliana to her first circus, which gave Jeff and I an opportunity to take Sol on his first hike. He was a maniac on those hills and hiked like the best of them (though he did continually try to hike down the side of the slope towards the freeway...he's fast that one).

The rest of the weekend was spent preparing for Easter. Egg dying and basket diving. My mom sent a beautiful Easter themed pakage that started the ball rolling. Thank God, Sol now has a new, gold kazoo! And those little chicks that wind up and hop? Got 'em. Pastel covered Easter grass strew in every corner of our messy home? Check!

Yup, the Easter thing was a hit around these parts and I have to say I totally got into preparing Elie's basket this year. She squealed with such delight when she saw it waiting for her on Easter morning. While we did have a few good nights since my last sleep rant, Easter eve was not one of them. Luckily, Elie slept in. And lucky for Jeff, I got up with at the crack with big Sol because of my festive Easter mood, allowing him a few more hours of sleep. Found myself ordering a triple latte at Le Petit at eight Easter morn. Sol and I played hard waiting for the other two to get up. I think by the time she finally found her basket, I was more excited about her little treasures than she was. I kept saying, What else did the Easter bunny give you, Elie? And what else? I so rarely buy Elie new things. I know that sounds ridiculous, but it's kind of true. So I really had a blast at Target finding goofy things for my girl. Thank goodness for the dollar section. And the art supplies. And the random orange tutu on sale. Love that place.

What else? We had a lovely brunch at Moana's with the little crew we've shared Easter with since the girls' were babes. Sol got right in the mix with the egg hunting and held his own with the big kiddos.

We came home for nap and Jeff, finally having a little taste of a good thing that morning, took himself a nap as well. I ventured up to the Sacred Tree with Lucy in....nothing but a tank top! Hello warm weather. The irony is it was probably only 50. Just give me a taste of sun, man...I love it.

Roseann had everything ready to make us a lovely Easter ham dinner, but after a bit of an oven debacle (aka, pressing "cancel" instead of "on"...) we threw together pasta instead. It was low key and simple and the perfect ending to a lovely, lovely weekend. May this spring continue to bring sunshine, good health and calm spirits.

american music

2011-04-20T08:17:00.000-07:00

Sleep continues to elude us, but somehow, day after day, we have relentless amounts of energy. I swear, every Tuesday since being pregnant with Sol I have the same thought around 4:40 as I'm preparing to teach my 5:00 yoga class. How the hell am I going to do this....? Then next thin g I know it's 5:30. I look at the clock and can't believe we're already halfway through. I pump the music and tell them to hold dolphin a little bit longer. It's really great, these energy surges. I'm not sure where I'd be without them. Energy surges. The ability to get a lot of things done in one day. Foresight. Planning. Creativity. Passion. Extreme efficiency. It all combines into an energy surge cocktail, day after day after day. The cherry in our proverbial cocktail is the energy that spills into the house with a daddy inspired dance party. They're a bit more rockin' than those inspired by mom, a bit more ripe with chills and spills. But they have a very special place in this home.

In other news, big Sol, aka, John Muir, is on a journey of discovery. His favorite thing to do is go outside and if I don't take him, well, he just takes himself. He's crazy agile. Even took himself out the other morning barefoot when there was still a soft brush of snow from the night before. He navigates carefully, fearlessly and then explores every inch of our little yard. I'm so proud of him out there, so proud of his independence and curiosity.

And while I'm proud by his strength and agility, it doesn't exactly help me stay at all relaxed. Yesterday I left him alone for a moment so I could go to the bathroom. When I came out he was nowhere to be seen. Both the front and back doors were open. I started to freak, screaming, "Sol! Sol!" I found him in the basement playing with Elie's giant E.T. doll (whose finger lights up and who says like ten different E.T. lines in E.T.'s raspy, freakish voice...). Note to self, stop going to the bathroom. Or at least bring the boy with you.

Easter is upon us. Then Solomon's first birthday. Yet he continues to wake and wake and wake in the night. Last night I had another breaking point. Jeff thinks it will be better if I wean him. I don't want to. But I do want to sleep for longer than a three hour chunk. My eyes are getting set back further and further in my head. My face is pasty. It's time for a major change, yet I don't know what to do.

Thank heavens for coffee. For children who make me smile. Curly headed weirdos. Barefoot explorers. That this all will soon be a teeny piece of our story.

eliana's theory of evolution

2011-04-17T18:06:00.000-07:00

Eliana has a pretty fascinating theory of what happens when people age. She thinks that as adults get older, they get smaller. As they get smaller, they need to be taken care of. On the flip side, as she gets older, she gets bigger. Then when she's big, she takes care of the adults who have grown small and who can no longer care for themselves. I never saw Benjamin Button, but maybe it's something like that. Or not.

We've had a fascinating, albeit exhausting, week that explores Eliana's theory. We've been living up in the big house with Pop Pop while Nana's away in Portland. The time away is very important for Nana and I certainly understand more than ever now why. Morty has Alzheimer's. He's 86. And while we've thought it was more of a label for an already aging man, I have to say that after these past five days, I've certainly seen things a bit more clearly.

Jeff's dad is an extremely strong, extremely sharp, extremely sassy man. Over a game of Scrabble the first night I met him, he told me when I was taking too long to take my turn to, "Shit or get off the pot already!" He's lived in New Jersey his whole life. He flew fighter planes in World War II. Was a self-made, extremely successful business man. For most of my thirteen year history with Jeff, I've always thought his dad was older, but totally with it, cool and savvy and tough.

This diagnosis came a few years back. And I think we've pretty much been denial of it up until recently. And while it certainly isn't as rough as it could be -- and I don't even want to go there -- it's rough. And it fits Eliana's theory. He needs us to take care of him. He needs her to take care of him.

There was a moment when we were loading up in the car after dinner the other night. We were all on a busy street downtown. I was holding the baby, Eliana was running up and down the sidewalk, Jeff was finishing up with the bill inside. Pop wandered off the curb and tried to get in the back door of the car. There was a carseat in the way. He looked confused, looked like he may wander into the road. I called for Elie. I need you to stand right here in front of the car. I need you to help Pop Pop get back on the sidewalk. Show him where his door is.

There she was in a flash, just like that, to help. She is getting smarter and more articulate by the day. Her sweetness is surfacing again. She loves her Grandpa and runs to him and gives him a big hug every morning when he wakes. She loves to talk about her theory. Pop Pop's getting older and sometimes he gets confused. But that's okay, because I'm getting bigger and I can take care of him when he gets small!

There's an intensity to this time. A sweetness. A level of exhaustion. Sol continues to wake multiple times during the night, his teeth popping up like daffodils in spring. I know this whole night waking thing would be way easier if I stopped nursing him but I can't even go there. Nor can I go to his birthday that is less than two weeks away. But for now, we're heavy in the moment.

Last night Sol was fussing before bed. Morty gets really agitated when the baby is sad and has a particularly hard time making sense of things in the evenings. I took Sol into the downstairs bedroom to nurse and lay to sleep. Pop Pop wandered in. When I asked what was going on he told me he was just trying to get to Newark. Oh this intricate, tangled web of a life we lead. From lost babies to lost men, all of us just trying to find our way.

a little spring snow

2011-04-13T13:38:00.000-07:00

A couple months ago when I was freaking out about this long, white winter, I said something along these lines to Jeff: I don't care where I go, I just need to go somewhere where I can see the sunshine during spring break. I don't think you understand that I'm going a little bit insane.

The next morning he and his sister did some research on their family time share and hooked us up with a couple of lovely condos in Jackson Hole. There's always sun in Jackson, honey, he said reassuringly. I love the cosmopolitan allure, the price was right, the drive manageable, and it was a way for us to spend the week with his parents who are back in Montana. After checking out a few restaurant menus, I was sold.

And while the week was lovely, the sun did not shine.

So I guess that's a mark of a good vacation. I came home well-rested, satisfied, relaxed without getting what I initially wanted (a sweltering, tropical beach...). Instead I played and hung hard with family, old and young alike, watched my kiddos get really into each other, nursed my son whenever I wanted, ate delicious food, cross-country skied in an insanely gorgeous national park, took two of the most challenging and most inspirational yoga classes of my life, actually enjoyed downhill skiing, snuggled with my husband, and read a few really great books.

Oh, and saw a bit of wildlife, namely a really big moose. Jeff then embarked on his latest photography installment, "13 (or so...) Ways of Looking at a Moose".

He even woke Elie from a nap and brought her outside to see the big boy. Morty was so excited, we had to stop him from going right up and petting the big guy.

Thankfully, Mr. Moose was the impetus for a few pretty hilarious family shots. Take note of the barefoot children and how hard Elie's rockin' her Flock of Seagulls do (and be sure to catch the moose in the background).

Absolutely nothing to complain about.

Our teacher's schedule seems to be a continuous saving grace in our hectic lives. Just when things really get wild, we come to another break and we can all re-connect, re-root. Spring break is particularly fun because when you get back to school, you know that the year is almost over. Unfortunately, so do the children who bring some awesome, sunshine-y energy into their spring days. Ah, to spend your days with eight year olds. A blessing. A really high-energy, pinball like blessing. Love those kids. But damn it's amazing how much energy a one hour and fifteen minute class can zap from this tuckered mama. Whose son, by the way, turns one in a mere two weeks. And, by the way, whose son still does not sleep through the night. Any tips out there? God knows in Jackson he was up like every two hours because he could smell me right there in our little room. Boobhound, that boy is! Now that we're back home, he's generally up once a night and then again pretty early in the morning. Jeff has tried to go to him but he freaks until he sees me. It's really not risk waking Eliana up cuz of course, I'm up anyway. I'm hoping something magical happens when he turns one, like he just knows and starts sleeping thirteen hour stretches like his sister did. But I know this is just wishful thinking. Again, I'm always amazed at how much I get done in a day, even without a whole lot of consistent sleep.

So we roll with it. God knows that little boy should be earning some zzzz's. He is a mover and a shaker if ever there was one. Tried jumping on the trampoline yesterday. Ate soap. Ate dog food. Tried to run. Laughed really really hard. Love him. And oh how these cool spring days remind me of the days leading up to his birth. But that's another post.

siblings

2011-04-07T15:57:00.000-07:00

Something really cool happened when we were away last week. Our two children turned into siblings. Obviously, this isn't exactly new, but there is a new energy, a new joy to their relationship. They could have spent hours in our little mountain condo playing weird, make-believe games together. Then went up and down the stairs and then some like they were a ride a Disneyland. They played chase and catch. Soli followed her around dutifully. When he'd knock his hard noggin' for the thousandth time, she'd help him up, give him a kiss, make it all better. He is totally dialed into all his sister's favorite things and can sniff Baby and Night-Night out of an unmade bed like a bloodhound. Even when Els was tuned out to her TV on the road, she'd periodically chat with him, acknowledge him, make him feel loved and cool.

Jeff and I did a lot of holy-cow-this-is-so-damn-cool look exchanging, never wanting to say too much as to distract from the moment. There's more to tell about our snowy, socked-in adventure, but for now, I've gotta just get that bit out. I have a brother and sister, a boy and a girl, siblings, forever.

pretty good year

2011-04-05T08:19:00.000-07:00

Dearest Solomon,

I just nursed you to sleep and felt a compulsion to write about you. I put on my pandora and Tori Amos's Pretty Good Year came on. The perfect song for the way I'm feeling right now about you. Even after you were up every two hours in search of my breasts, a regression back to the little you who slept by my side all those months. And even though my head aches and I'm bleary eyed, I still can't get enough of you. You looked up at me after you nursed just now, your big, clear blue eyes and your little toothless mouth spread into a beautiful smile. A smile that said I am the one you love. And that smile assuaged my exhaustion, my guilt over how much I work or how often I need to do things to take care of myself only. You are a very different creature to your sister. The first born. How simple and just the two of us her first year was.

But you, my little boy. Less than a month away from your first birthday, little boy. Walking, eager, expressive little boy. Little boy who is perfectly content as long as his mama is by his side. We drove seven hours together on Sunday, you and I. I made googly eyes at you in the backseat and watched you fall in and out of sleep. I fed you road snacks and sang you Spandau Ballet's True. Last night when I couldn't get back to sleep in between your excessive nursings, I listened to that song in my head, over and over. It's the perfect little love song for us. Simple. Repetitive. Beautiful. Dramatic.

Oh little boy. We're here in these snowy mountains. Even though I've had enough snow, enough days without sunshine, I think of you asleep in that little room and I feel fine. This is the vacation we are supposed to have. Old ones below. A wild haired little girl zoned out to PBS kids. These days where the old and the young in habit our space more than those of our generation.

I think about your birthday. How I want to celebrate. And I keep coming back to your birth, to the few friends that were there, who helped me bring you into the world with the grace and calm you deserved. I think about your placenta sitting in the red biohazard bag in our deep freeze. I wonder if the ground will have thawed enough for us to put it in the ground, plant you a tree by your sister's. I imagine all you want for your birthday is us. Maybe a cake to sink your fingers in. An audience to strut in front of. You don't even crawl anymore. You strut. You little nut, you.

My headache is going away as I write this. I feel my body settle into a snowy day. La f''in nina. But this is the life we chose for you. Close friends. Open spaces. Jagged mountains. Snowy winters.

Blessings abound.

the room

2011-03-25T20:26:00.000-07:00

So it's been a week with both kiddos in the same bedroom. Funny, funny shit. Super sweet. Super freaky. Like they talk a lot to each other. And Elie hops in and out of his crib, bringing him all sorts of random stuff from the room. Then when I go in to tell them to knock it off, she flies back in her bed, pulls up her comforter, and pretends to be asleep. Her bro gives her away because he's laughing hysterically. He laughs so hard, he literally makes himself fall over. He side splits himself. It's too funny. I don't even want to break them up because I want to keep listening from the other side of the door. I should set up a video monitor. I love being lurky.

And then at night, even though Elie doesn't seem to wake up when Sol starts his midnight chat fests, I totally freak and am there in a flash. And then it seems all he wants to do is nurse and nurse and grab my face and do the one armed slap all over my person until I'm freaking out about going back to bed and he won't seem to get calm but I don't want to put him in his crib and let him cry cuz I don't want him to wake Els. And there we are. And somehow we get through until morning. And coffee saves me again. Coffee and exercise. And I wonder if there's some weird addiction I have that maybe others share. Running on empty addiction. Like if you just keep moving, it'll all be okay.

Speaking of coffee and exercise, my girl Aimee took some gorgeous pictures of Sol the other morning. It was a pseudo photo shoot to go with a little article that I have coming out about 108 sun salutations. The same 108 sun salutations I did last Sunday for the spring equinox. And it was awesome. I have become so much stronger, I can hardly believe it's the same me. I love that post-baby, oh-yeah-this-is-who-I-am thing that happens when your kiddos get close to a year. Your body reclaims herself. Your muscles are back. And it's all even cooler than before because it's all been to heck and then some.

While our little house is, well, little, it's lovely being here. I have such love for every last random object, every color on the wall. Tomorrow night my all-star, A number one favorite lady arrives for a quick little spring time action in the basement, her little lair. Ah, SisDawg. In the flesh. I can't even believe how lucky I am to have a sister as cool as the Dawg. And she even loves me too.

I wonder how the hell our night will go. If I were smart, I'd go to sleep now, try to get a solid two or three before the madness begins. But this is my sacred, quiet, nobody needs me or is touching me or is talking to me time. The white noise disco is open and rockin' and I wanna get mine. Mines.

I heart ghetto slang.

I also heart my little walking boy. The way he weaved, tonight, between the tables at the restaurant, soaking up the glory of all those admiring patrosn. How old is he? they'd ask. Wow! That's pretty young to be walking like that. I'd smile. He'd smile. We'd smile. And then I was off and running, chasing him up stairs and around waiters with big, full trays who couldn't help but smile at the tiny boy and his strong, determined legs.

And then there's CelieBop. With her new favorite euphamism, "Right?!"
You are Dana and Whitney's teacher, right? But they're my friends, right? And your friends, too, right? We're all friends! Friends, friends, right!

And it just keeps coming...

Auntie Hilary's coming, right? She's my auntie, right? But your sister, right? And Queenie's my sister! We both have sisters! Sisters, sisters! But I have Auntie Kelly, too. And Auntie Wendy. And Auntie Alison. Aunties, aunties! But you don't have any aunties? Do you? Do you have aunties...we both have aunties! Aunties, aunties! We both have aunties! (Elie's big on lots of repetition for added emphasis...)

So much love in her little heart these days. She's shedding her dark layers and I thank the good lord for that. And when she does get freaky with me, she apologizes. Ah, the ability to reflect. It's important, right! Makes us see more clearly, right! Understand and appreciate and take it all in.

And while I'm bragging, her Espanol is outta hand. She can run a whole little faux circle time in Spanish, replete with copious tambiens and buenos, spoken just like a native speaker. She adores her teachers, adores the whole shebang. And being back in the 'hood makes it all so seamless. The stroller to door trek ridiculously simple, especially now that I'm all seasoned and everything. I love how much better we get at our jobs. How a bit of time can tweak the whole perspective. And settling into roles. That's another thing I like. Letting time ease you into a new phase.

Happy spring, right?

our little house

2011-03-21T13:48:00.000-07:00

We spent last night back in our little house for the first time in over four months. It was extremely sweet. And kinda weird. Because we fill the house so much more now. Sol is into every last, dust-bunnied corner and Eliana can't get enough of all the toys and books she hasn't seen since October.

Somehow they managed to both fall asleep in the same room last night. Amazing. Unfortunately it didn't last and when Sol woke at one, he brought his sister down with him. It actually was pretty funny. Sol up and big nurse. Then Els up. I snuggled in her bed with her whispering, trying to not let Sol know I was there. But he's sharp as a tack, that one. When he realized we were both there, we heard his little crib creaking like crazy. He was jumping up and down like a maniac, wild with excitement. We both started cracking up. Needless to say, it was hard for any of us to get back to sleep after that. But we all managed.

We welcomed a new day with Madonna's, "Into the Groove." Eliana was thrilled to be able to walk to school, just like we used to. She remembers everything. Everything about the rituals we established in the fall. It made me appreciate the ease of living so close to work infinitely more.

I'm now having a mama dejavu. They are both in the little room for their naps. I told Eliana to sing to Sol if he chatters, told her to help him. Ten or so minutes in she stormed out and said, "Mom! Soli won't listen to me and he won't go to sleep!" Say it, sistah.

I then told her to "model" for him what taking a nap looks like. Told her to close her eyes and settle her body and ignore him. Maybe it worked cuz while Sol still won't shut up, Els is finally quiet. I need them both to sleep. So I sit outside their door typing away as a way to monitor, but pretend I'm actually doing something important. I need him to get the excitement of sleeping in a room with his sister out of his system. But I hate sacrificing the sleep they both need in this moment.

Alas, our dark, walk-in closet days are over. It's time to build a new routine and pray for success!

walker

2011-03-19T16:10:00.000-07:00

reflection

2011-03-19T08:10:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite bands of all-time, The Smiths, have a song with a line that goes something like, "I would rather not go, back to the old house..." That line is stuck in my head right now. As we spend our last Saturday morning up in this gorgeous home that isn't reallyours. Of course we'll still be spending a ton of time here. And it will be lovely to have Jeff's parent's back. There is so much getting to know of Solomon, so much reconnecting to do with Eliana.

As I've spent time at our little house this past week - getting things cleaned and sorted, compiling massive bags and hauling them to the Goodwill and Dumpster respectively, I've been filled with a total sense of calm that comes from being in my space. All of my things, exactly as I left them. My music. My artwork. My photographs and books. My close proximity to the park and Jumbo and school. My weird neighbors and new buddy a house away. But the vibe couldn't be more different.

Down there, we're in it. Up here, we're away from it. Down there, it pulses. Up here, it sways. Down there the view is the top of the mountains we're pressed up against. Up here the view is expansive, the whole valley, the grandeur.

I have noticed that Eliana and I have felt a sweetness together in our "little" house that is nostalgic, that is made up of her lifetime of memories. And as we approach Sol's first birthday, I get lost in memories of his birth, the sofa contractions, the shuffle from living room to bedroom to baby boy in my arms. The same candles I burned that night still sit, their nearly empty, lemongrass and lavender heads smile as if to say, "I remember too."

But we've had a good run up here. Managed to get some sleep. Managed to find some space. Settle into a calm. I am eternally grateful to Mort and Roseann and their generosity. It's really, really tremendous. Like one of those pauper/princess fairy tales. Thank you.

So this morning I sip my coffee and look out at the brown hills, the snow almost completely melted, and feel a surge of gratitude. My children are thriving. They are the coolest. Solomon is
so strong, so determined, so damn sturdy on his little tree trunk legs. Everywhere on his legs. Like I so didn't get the whole "babyproofing" thing with Elie. But little man. Wowzers. His ability to seek and destroy is baffling. And Cool. Filled with his own little brand of Solomon pride.

Eliana is so thoughtful and reflective. Her memory a steel trap, her musings and observations astute and aware. She builds intricate sofa forts. All of her dolls and stuffed animals have fascinating histories and unique personalities. She has a flair for the dramatic and can articulate stories replete with emotion like it's nobody's business. She even has a, "Baby Sister." Her name is Queenie. She wears headbands. She talks to her teachers about her. In Spanish. Don't even get me started on her Spanish. If only I could be more consistent in speaking it at home. Homegirl has an ear. Y una memoria.

She took these pictures of us the other night. They capture what most of our Winter afternoons have been like. Toys strewn. Children up to no good.

I feel like I leave this house a more refined Mama. Wiser. More grown-up. This fall when we fled our little house, I was wide-eyed and bleary. Trying so hard to do it all so well. Was taking it all really, really seriously.

I return feeling grounded. Like I'm finally coming out of the manic fog of two children, two jobs, one husband and one dog. Something shifted in me on my birthday last Wednesday. I don't know if it's due to the scare with Sol or just the marker of another year, but I feel like I shed some major shit. My mind talk has quieted. I feel confident and secure about the quality of my work as a mother, as a teacher, as a wife, as a friend, as a daughter. I feel more forthright. More appreciative. I'm choosing gratitutde instead of resentment. It's just not in my nature to be negative. Instead I will chose to say what I feel in the moment and not let it bottle up. I will take back the night on my thoughts, on my voice.

So here's to Spring! Can it be true? You wouldn't know it on this gray, colorless Saturday. But I feel it in my bones. That shift that hope brings. Spotty sunshine. Muddy lawns. Bulbs rearing their pointy, green hats. Longer days. Walking boys. Long, smart girls. Grounded, strong mamas.

big sol

2011-03-16T20:32:00.000-07:00

My Big Sol. My Big Sol walks. He walks and talks and is totally aware of everything, all the time. My Big Sol will be one soon. My Big Sol makes my heart melt. He charms everyone he's around. We all love him. They all love him. He's never fussy or sad. Just curious. And moving. Walking. Eating. Touching. Watching to make sure you've seen all the funny, phenomenal things he's been up to. I love my Big Sol.

And my sweet Celie. My sweet Celie takes Creative Movement. She has an arsenal of tutus (all second hand, making them a little extra cool, a little unimportant). After she came home from class she showed me everything she learned. She was long and poised on the floor, feet kissing in a triangle, spine perfectly straight. She talked me through class, told me her favorite parts. She's reflective and smart and expressive. All qualities I highly value. She makes me really, really proud.

I think I'm finally getting the hang of two kids. It's almost a year in, but what the heck, everyone has a different learning curve. I am getting a bit more seamless. Can move from work to kids without so many potholes. Damn potholes. I'm beginning to get a bit more in the moment. Trying to bring my Dynamic Self to all I do. I get on my kids for capitalizing nouns that aren't proper. But it's kind of fun.

what's mine

2011-03-10T15:07:00.000-08:00

I turned 37 yesterday. And while I seem to love my own birthday a bit less each year, I tried to hold on to my usual birthday spirit and made myself a perfect plan. I'd soak in the hot tub. Go to yoga. Take myself to lunch. Get a massage. Have a date with my hubby. Mind you, I'd have to do all of this while still doing what I normally do on a Wednesday. Schlep my kiddos and baby to school/day-care after getting them dressed, fed, diapered, etc. Classroom manage and discuss the finer points of spelling and punctuation with an enthusiastic, jiggly room of third graders. But whatevs. It was my day and I was going to make it perfect.

It all began so well. In fact, it began the night before when my girlfriends took me to dinner and even stayed up way past their bedtimes to soak. Waiting on my pillow before bed were three beautiful, hand-written birthday notes, one from Jeff, one from Eliana, one from Sol. After thanking the universe for all my blessings, I blissfully fell to sleep. And actually managed a solid five hours before Sol needed me. We were on a good trajectory.

It's the morning of. Jeff takes Eliana to school so I can have some special me time. Sol sleeps in, so I decide to take a morning hot tub. The sun is shining on the valley for the first time in what feels like months. There's this beautiful, early morning mist kissing, blessing the hills. The vineyard shines in the distance, my favorite yellow house so cozy and nestled in among the vines. All the cynicism I've been feeling lately lifts. I feel nothing but grace.

I go in and check on Sol. He's still out, so I take a shower. Check again. Still quiet, so I get myself pretty. Then I hear him. So excited to see his funny, toothless smile, I turn on the light.

And the day shifts.

Sol sits in his crib. Nestled among single earrings, pairs of socks and...two random prescription pills. See, he sleeps in a closet. In that closet is my mother in-laws dresser. He's never done more than play with the handles. But in the past few minutes he's managed to not only open the drawer but empty the contents into his crib. And maybe his mouth. I don't know which.

Shell shocked, panicked, frightened, I get him up. He doesn't appear to have anything in his mouth, though who the hell knows. My plan was to get him to daycare on time so I could make it to a 9am yoga class. I anxiously try to continue with my morning routine.

So I'll stop right here. Why in god's name I didn't call poison control right away, I'll never know. Why I didn't call my husband, I'll never know. I do know that my gut said it was okay. But it was my gut and my son's life.

I see that now. I don't like how I responded. It's a good lesson for my family about how I deal in potential emergencies.

So his nanny Meghan said she'd keep a close eye on him. I didn't go to yoga. I went to work early, pulled Jeff from his classroom and calmly told him what happened. He promptly left school, raced up the hill to find the pills, called poison control, picked Sol up and drove him to the emergency room.

This is when I really felt like an asshole. Awful, awful negligent mama.

At this point it had been almost three hours since the potential incident. He still was acting like his normal, goofy self. The nurse we talked to was awesome. She said to watch him. That they wouldn't do any tests because he was too little. That if we admitted him, they'd just watch.

So that's what I did. I got to spend the afternoon of my birthday just watching my son. And it was perfect. Because he was fine.

When I finally felt okay enough to let him take a nap, he drifted off to sleep in my arms. I held him close. Listened to his breath. Marveled at his perfection. We lay in the dark together while I let his little body heave gently against mine. It was a beautiful birthday moment.

When I told my friend Gita what happened later that afternoon she said something like, Ah, babe. Your birthdays stop being yours after you have kids.

How right she was. Who was I to think that I'd really be able to pull of my detailed, all-about-me plan. Not that I thought something as scary as what happened was possible, but I certainly didn't take my little ones into account when planning my day.

So there I was. My son was healthy. My girl was at dance class. My evening massage appointment was still waiting for me.

The last time I went to this masseuse, Sol was in my body. How quickly things shift. Now that little boy is ransacking drawers, taking steps, grabbing everything within sight. I lay with my face pressed into that funny pillow and took a deep breath. I felt kind of guilty to be there, guilty to have left him at all. But there was still a bit of daylight, still a few hours left in my precious day.

I was back at that place of balance. How do we balance it all? How do we take time for ourselves without lessening our appreciation of our families? How do we trust the universe when everything feels so tenuous? How do we forgive ourselves when we falter, again and again and again?

That's my big job this year. To forgive myself. To loosen Guilt's noose, the one's he's been hanging over my neck since I was a girl. To be less apologetic. To assert myself more. To stop always being, the "nice" one. As much as I love nice and love being nice, I'm also kinda over nice. I need to be stronger. More thick skinned. I've earned it. 37 big years.

the loop

2011-03-01T23:27:00.000-08:00

My brain is back on the loop tonight. It darts wildly, flits from one random thought to the next. Most are related to work which makes the whole thing even more frustrating. I'd like to let that be. If I must be kept up at night, at least I could be fixated on my children. How quickly it all goes. How perfect they are.

One of the opening lines of a student's poem reads, I am a hamster on a wheel, spinning all about. I'm channeling her hamster tonight. My sleep is so ridiculous. Last night Sol was up for ever. He never cries but last night he carried on and on and on. Jeff actually went downstairs to sleep. So you'd think that after a really long day of running on very little, my exhausted body would sink into slumber. But here I am, typing away, even after a journal scribbling session at the start of this bedtime ritual. Is there that much to try and situate?

The seasons are beginning to shift. I smelled it in the air today. Sometimes shifting seasons keep me up. Moon phases. Anxieties. Neurosis. Excitement. Wonder. Plans. Agendas. Sleep has never been my thing. But right now I really, really need some.

I'll finally get down and then I'll hear it. My little guy beginning to stir in his crib. So I'll nurse him and kiss his head. Marvel at him. Wake up my brain and my senses. Again. And now we're at 3 in the morning and I can easily count the hours til Eliana will stir and the whole, wacky wheel will begin again.

Thank god for breath. Thank god for my strong, resilient body. Thank god for my good natured children. My husband who listens. My ability to use words to express myself. My girlfriend on the phone today, listening to me like a shrink when I desperately needed to be heard. My in-laws and their generosity and this beautiful house where I can track the snow fall on the banister, find space from my little ones, soak and take in this insane valley.

And even with all these blessings, I can't just fall gently down. I need to quiet my mind. I give such good advice during savasana, can do it in the studio, but not in the bed. Ridiculous hypocrisy. Ridiculous frustration.

Solomon will be ten months old on Thursday. This is so wild to me. He took three little steps today. It was the most beautiful thing ever. I screamed and squealed and then there was Eliana, pretending to be a baby, taking wobbly steps into my arms as well. She is beginning to really appreciate him. And he adores her. If only he could shift his adoration away from pulling her curls.

Speaking of which, she had her first haircut. We had her's and her's cuts, with Sol on my lap. I love my short and sassy do. And she looks more together, a little less Flock of Seagulls (thanks Case).
Chatting it up in the chair...
An impromptu Iza dinner afterwards...

In other firsts, Sol's gonna be a musician. He loves to bang out patterns on the counter and bop to tunes. But his latest musical love is with the kazoo. The cutest thing ever. He grooves to his own beat. And thinks he's the funniest thing in the world. He's right.

And Els finally started dance class. Creative movement. She loves it! That and the Friday night dance parties at the Top Hat are her two favorite pastimes. Even without pushing it, my influence is finally taking hold!

My kids have a poetry reading this week. Their books are insanely gorgeous, their words so fresh and vital. I love teaching poetry to kids. Love it, love it. Read a ton of Mary Oliver in the tub tonight. Remembered how much poetry I read in college. How we'd read and dissect, read and dissect, write and read, read and write. What would it be like to do that again? What a gift that time was. Will I use my mind like that again? Does it even matter?

It does. Her poems reminded me how badly I need to get outside. Pay attention. Walk without distraction. Connect again with my mountain. My park. The winter strips that part of me away. My walks are more concerned with function. My concentration turns to the ground, to patches of ice, to potential pitfalls.

Good grief, Spring. Please, please show your sweet, green head. The white dazzles. Is all encompassing. But I'm ready for a change.

...and the snow rages...

2011-02-28T15:11:00.000-08:00

I kind of feel like I'm stuck in this weird, snowy loop. It's been a long, long, cold, white winter. And here I am, another Monday. My children sleep, I stare outside at the snowy mountains, I watch the freezing wind whip through the trees, I wonder how the hell I ended up here. Then I stop myself. Take a minute to appreciate. Fantasize about sunshine. Beaches. Bougainvillea. Count the days til spring break. Realize I have no plans to go anywhere. Money's tight. Things are in flux. Try to stop the brain. Count the days. I'm almost 37. That sounds really old. Remember being young. Aimless, weekend amblings with my sister and Melissa. So many warm days. Absolutely free of responsibility. My one paying job (the same paying job, but more pay, back in the day).

The grace of February arrived in the face of beautiful guests. My mama first, sister and niece next. They appreciated the snow and cold in a different way. The way of total fascination. Of Piper shouting, "It's snowing!" and bursting outside to stand under the flakes until she's cold again, races back inside. It feels sometimes like I moved to a foreign country. I see so much of myself in my sister, in my mom, yet my lifestyle has changed so dramatically. How thankful I am that they come here, try to appreciate and understand my very different world.

I'm trying to call on the birthday spirit, the birthday wisdom, the promise of spring, but I'm coming up short. Maybe tomorrow when we officially welcome March I'll be able to have some perspective. For now, thank you Wendy for these beautiful pictures of the cousins. So many beautiful, cold memories! The sun will shine again. It has to...

happy valentine

2011-02-14T15:31:00.000-08:00

I love Valentine's day. I've let go of romantic notions about special presents or heartfelt cards, but love the liveliness of the day. Being a teacher helps keep Valentine's Day alive and well in my world and I go through my bag of Valentine's with the same excitement I had when I was eight. Elie had her first Valentine's school party; they wore pajamas, ate heart shaped waffles and did an obstacle course.

I treated her to a mommy daughter Valentine's lunch at Bernice's where she finally was able to pick out a cupcake. It's so funny, after so much build up, she barely ate it. Sorta sucked the pink frosting off and then just went about her business. I guess she really isn't that interested in food.

The sun was out today. That was enough to make the day feel full and perfect. I love the first sunny days in these parts. People cruise in shorts and tee shirts even though it's 38 degrees. I feel it now too. I took my jacket off with the best of them. Elie and I took our treats outside and sat at the picnic tables.

Jeff's in Seattle working until Wednesday. It's night three. I guess I've done okay. I kind of rise to the occassion in a different way when he's away. I don't expect to get a break, so I don't ask for one. I'm a good, obedient little worker like that. I've just been enjoying my little chickens. The sweet dance that happens when it's just the three of us. Simple things. Making pizza (Your's is the green one and mine is the white one, right mommy? Such is life with food around these parts... )

Soaking in the hot tub. Destroying Eliana's room. Putting it back again.

Laughing at Soli's funny faces.

Kissing their beautiful cheeks.

Eliana is such a lover these days. I think she's back after that trauma that was Solomon's birth. She spontaneously tells me how much she loves me. Yesterday we had an exchange that went something like this:

Me: Do you know how lucky I am to be your mama? Els: Aw, mom. I really do love you. Let's hug.

It was so sweet it was like something off of some goofy sit-com. But we were feeling it pretty darn intensely.

My mom also made it over for a quick trip. The new direct flights offer kickin' deals every once and a while so she made it over for a mini lovefest. Elie played hookie from school and they spent their days together. I love the way she does different things with different people. With my mom it's all about tea and buiscuits, lots of reading and sewing and make-believe games with baby Melody. My mom appreciated my culinary skills and we enjoyed lounging and catching up. I love my mom. It kills me that my children are growing up so far from her. So far from both sets of grandparents. But this is the path we're on. So I'll settle for weekend love fests.

I am so damn appreciative of my family. So blessed. Even while we seem to burn the candle at both ends way too frequently, this is all that matters. These little people. These big people. My husband. My valentines.

siblings and funny faces

2011-01-31T15:20:00.000-08:00

I just put a bunch of pics from the past few weeks up on the computer. One thing's for certain. My kiddos can make some damn funny faces. Especially that Sol. He's a nut! And Els and the hair and the perpetual changing of costumes. It's really, really sweet.

So instead of making choices, I'll do a funny face marathon. They're all too good to pass up.

Other than funny faces, there's been a lot of playing between these two lately. Like real kids. Brother and sister. Eliana loves to climb into Sol's crib and get crazy. It's wild to watch. Like WWWF (though I've never really watched that, I imagine the gist...). Sol goes for the hair and Els goes for the full body tackle. I go for the screams and no's! Jeff's more likely to cheer them on. We spend a lot of time in Nana and PopPop's walk in closet (aka, Sol's room) where the games get wild.

We also spend a lot of time in hot water. Bathtubs, hottubs, showers.

Solomon poops more than ever imagined possible, often blowing out of his diaper. In fact, his diaper rash is so bad that I actually had to ask the doctor to prescribe special cream. But other than an extreme wipe sensitivity, Sol's fun-loving, wild man spirit prevails.

He continues to be into everything all the time. He loves to eat and enjoyed his first Baby Burrito the other night. He ate more than his sister did. Jeff proclaimed Sol was the happiest he'd ever been. I spent the next 24 hours wiping undigested black beans from a rashy bum. But there are worse things...

In other winter news, it's been really, really, really wintery. And cold. And gray. And uninspiring. The kind of weather that makes people curse. The flip side of that is when the sun comes out and it's like time stops and the whole of this little valley lifts their heads to the sky. The power of the sunshine is certainly something I took for granted for most of my life. Now she shows her pretty face and I can't help but smile, leave love messages on my friend's voice mails, bring the kids at school outside with clipboards and pencils so they can write it all down.

What else? We finally had the family Snowbowl day that Jeff dreams about. Sol and I happily spent most of it cozy in the bar with buddies and pizza, but I did manage to take one, gray, chilly, freaky run. When all is said and done, I don't really care about my ski progress that much anymore. I'm pretty content to watch my kiddos and let my man have his fun. But I will have a lot to keep up with real, real soon. Els is unstoppable. She skied down Sunrise Bowl, a run that totally freaks me out. She's fearless; points her skis down and charges. Her mama, on the other hand, continues to traverse ever so slowly and carefully from right to left, never just up to down. I'm so proud of that kid. So glad that she'll get to grow into the badass that I'm not. What a gift to give. She and Jeff are total BFF. She said the other night, How about Daddy and Eliana are best friends, and Mommy and Soli are best friends but we're all best friends together? Sound good to me.

Not a whole lot more to report. Sol's digging his new girlfriend, Alina.

They have some sweet times together and I think he's learning not to try to take her face off every time he sees her. Els too is digging hard on her buddies.

Our new favorite family thing is the family friendly Thursday and Fridays at the Top Hat, or as Elie puts it, The Dance Party. She dons whatever weird get-up she deems appropriate for that night (and unfortunately it's not always the super cute, tutu-ish outfit I want her to don...), saddles her way up to the bar for a Sprite (yup, first one ever, at the bar and now she can't let it go), gets insane on the dance floor (dancer friends, think floor work), messes with the pinball machine, and checks out every last disheveled little elf that walks in the door. I happily indulge in my love for on the rocks concoctions while people take turns holding Sol. We can actually talk to our friends because the kids are entertained. And the music has been awesome. Only in Missoula. A damn good place to be.

girl's night

2011-01-24T14:22:00.000-08:00

I had a spontaneous, no reason party on Saturday night. I needed to have something on my blank, gray calendar. I needed to remember, exactly, why I live in this icy little valley. I needed to be with my friends without the distraction of our kiddos and their complex, wild, volatile, beautiful friendships. I wanted to sit on my sofa with a good glass of wine and a room full of good conversations.

Apparently we all did.

The mass email invites always make me giggle. They are safe. They require no feedback, no RSVP, and welcome a whole range of responses. They also keep things kind of light and vague. So at 6:15 when my kitchen was still empty, I started to wonder. Maybe there would just be a few of us. Maybe I shouldn't have made so much soup. Maybe I'm kind of a dork to think that anyone was really coming. My inner ten year old waiting for her party to start who begins to fill with self-doubt.

But then the door opened. And next thing I knew, my little house was packed with gorgeous women, the dining room table full of beautiful food, and the fridge full of beer. I finally got myself to that spot on my sofa and found myself in a conversation full of meaning. What it means to be a mom. A daughter. What we lied about to our mothers. What we really regret. What our girls may do to us and how we'll attempt to deal. What we need. What our husbands need. What our kids need. How to meet all the needs.

I don't have time to not have meaning in my life. I don't have time for meaningless conversation. Don't have time for shallow friendships. Don't have time to not just break it down immediately. Maybe that makes me too intense. But whatever. People who don't want to go there don't have to come to my party.

As I busted Madonna and lit candles to make my house smell good, I had that giddy feeling I used to get before going to school dances. I love school dances. Like I lived for them. I love big groups of goofy girls bustin' it in a circle. I love when the slow song would come on and I'd wonder if someone would ask me to dance. I can still here those mellow, sultry tunes. Depeche Mode. Peter Cetera. L.L. Cool J.

It's a question of not letting what we built up crumble to dust...I am a man who will fight for your honor...When I'm alone in the room, sometimes I stare at the wall....

The feminist in me wonders what songs my kids will be dancing too. God knows if, "A Question of Lust" was allowed at my school dances they'll be dancing to something super dirty, super scandalous. What path will we take in dealing with this all? I shudder just thinking about it. Take in a long, slow breath.

One thing I know. I will have my girlfriends to consult. And they'll be going through the same thing. Hell, our daughters will probably be sneaking out together while we're sipping wine in my living room...

So much to look forward to.

a snowy afternoon

2011-01-12T17:44:00.000-08:00

It's been a long, snowy, blizzardy, freaky-cold day. But I got to do some good playing with my chickens tonight and am happy to report that they both have some damn good moves and an appropriate appreciation for Michael Franti.

the day to day

2011-01-10T20:35:00.000-08:00

It seemed to have taken us about eight months to really get here but I'm starting to feel it hardcore. We are a family of four. Five if you count sweet Lucy who is actually finding her way back into the mix with marginal upheaval. Something seemed to shift while we were away. We were able to celebrate being together. Able to slow down. Elie and I fell back in love. We cut the drama and got back to our roots as a rockin' couple. And then Sol and Elie started their own thing. This thing where she talks about him and includes him in her stories and games. This thing where all he wants to do is smile at her big, grab her hair and attempt to hurl his body across and over hers. She's a pretty good sport about it all and actually has to put up a fight when he comes at her. He's a tough little lug.

Jeff and I re-streamlined our roles and quit keeping score. Sol and Jeff became super sweet on each other and he stopped just wanting me. And me and Sol, well, me and Sol are pretty much as tight as it gets. I could just let him gum my nose forever. And he would.

Coming back from almost three weeks in a tropical paradise to freezing temperatures (like...I think it was eight today...) and snow and ice can be a bit jarring, even if I weren't a Los Angeles princessa. But when I began to tread and trip a bit into the dark side last week, I reminded myself of my new plan. To take it light. To let it be. We stayed at the party late and let Eliana jump off the stage again and again. Sol sacked out in the Ergo and I had another glass of wine. I found myself in the front of a new class of twenty yoga students, ready to give them my weird, loud, rockin' version of vinyasa. A lot of them actually smiled. I did too. I had to just go with my thing. Be my authentic self.

I think my authentic self needed a good six months to settle into her new role. Mama of two. Wife. Teacher. Mover. Creative chef. Dude! Tandoori chicken in the crock tonight. Not half bad. And a big 'ol batch of daal that both Sol and Elie ate. Trying to be more mindful of the family food. Sometimes it feels like I'm the only one on that train. Well, me and Sol, cuz homeboy'll try anything. The only time he's pissed is when we don't include him at the dinner table. And he just grunts until a rice cake or spoonful is passed his way. And then he gums.

Even the pre-work/school/daycare ritual is coming together. It's still not my favorite part of the day, to be certain, but I'm trying to not muscle through it anymore. I'm kinda rollin'. I did 108 sun salutations on the 31st in a little thatched palapa overlooking the Pacific. It was awesome. But after really settling into vacation mode, I wasn't exactly in the tip top asana way. And I had a bunk finger. Towards the end I felt myself really starting to muscle through it. Then a few days later I think I had my first hernia. It went away. But it was another good reminder about why I should never muscle through anything.

Did I mention in my Mexico post how I sliced my finger the second day we were there. Making a freaking quesadilla for Elie. Hacking way too hard and fast into a hunk of soft Oaxacan cheese with the machete of the knife in our little cocina. My finger was literally gaping, two big flaps, visible bone and lots of blood. "Remember how you said fuck when you hurt your finger, Mama?"

I was in a lot of pain. More importantly, I was pissed. So mad at myself for moving too quickly. So sure that my trip would be ruined because we'd have to spend all our money at some little health clinic on my stupid stitches and I wouldn't be able to go in the ocean. Or in the sun. Or on the sand. And it was all my fault. And I wasn't mindful. And I don't really even like the word mindful really because it's so yogi chic and not really real enough for me like, say, careful. Or slow. Or calmly. Or gently.

Luckily the finger parts reassembled with the help of some gauze, alcohol and a good old fashioned band-aid. The sea water helped. So did the salty air. And I can almost bend it all the way again. I have a scar that will serve as a good reminder. Go gently. I'll bring that into my mantra of 2011.

Mind is feeling pretty full tonight. Speaking of mind full. My worst childhood nightmare came to life in Tuscon. I've had a fear of open fire for way too long. Eliana is developing fears. She fears "shooters" and mountain lions. Jeff and I were talking about our childhood phobias last night. His was, and still is, sharks. I began. Well, earthquakes and fires. And strangers. And bad guys. The night stalker. It seemed I could have gone on and on. I guess I could have added open fire to my list. I can't even read about it. I can't even go there. I feel it will halt all the good work I'm trying to do. Paint a dark, black mark across my body and hold me in his grasp. I'll slip on the ice and hold my children too tight, need to stare at them all night long, lock the doors, never leave the house. My safe valley. I think part of the reason so many of my physical problems cleared up when I left Los Angeles is because I was no longer living in the face of so many of my fears. And while fires and earthquakes and bad guys exist in Montana, something about it felt new enough to help me conquer all that anxiety. Oh anxiety. Anxiety, anxiety.

I'm sipping my calming bedtime tea and wondering why I continue to ramble on here. It's time to turn in, read my book, work on getting quiet inside so I can settle and sleep. Wait for my Prince of Peace as Jeffy calls him, to get his snack on. He's getting much better and will usually settle in for a good six hours or so until he wants to say hi. And then he heads back into his dark little cave for some more sweet dreams. Dreams of pulling Eliana's curls. Of jumping up and down. Of putting every last thing on the floor into his mouth.

And what does Elie dream about? Her baby. Surfing. The carousel. Her buddies.

When is this winter time going to be over, Mama? I'm tired of this winter time! I miss Mexico.

Like mother, like daughter.

But look at the beautiful, shiny white snow, Els! Look at the elk on jumbo. The sun is even shining today.

I neglected to mention that we were in the single digits and she probably wouldn't get to play outside at recess because it was too freakin' cold. But verbalizing the positive, even if it was a bit of a farce, got me to appreciate what I saw. The distinct shine of Lolo Peak. Her curls spewing from beneath her fleece hat in the rear view mirror. The wave and smile of the crossing guard. The faith we put in the goodness that is everywhere to move us from one day to the next.

a year

2011-01-07T14:24:00.000-08:00

It's white, white, white outside. I can barely see the mountains across the valley, barely see beyond the massive mounds of snow out the back deck. The thick fog. January has always been hard for me. Or at least since I've lived in Montana. It's still shocks. The cold and ice. The way everything slows so intensely.

But year after year, I brave it. Year after year, I get better at it. Attempt to embrace it. So let's go there. The best thing for me so far since being back? My friends. So, so, so lucky to have the women in my life that I have. This is probably why our roots continue to deepen, why the ocean hasn't lured us back.

My friend wrote a beautiful piece about the year. She inspired me to take a little photo jog down memory lane. I was floored. I beamed. I can't believe that the humongous, round faced, curly haired, young, young, young looking woman in the pictures is me.

That for half of last year, I had yet to meet Sol! That the world was still just us three. Us three. It sounds so weird to me now.photos by nici

I had a very mindful new year last year. I had girlfriends over and we wrote and reflected and shared. My best self is a good organizer. She's currently not in top form. I'm hoping to bring her back in 2011. Gonna put it out there. Gonna throw a rager. Gonna get wild with my bad self.

While it may not feel like it right now, drip, drip, slush, slush, slide, slip...Montana is a tremendous place to live. I see that in my pictures too. It's good to look at pictures of Flathead Lake in July when the forecast calls for 7 in a few days. Good to remember that this is as fleeting as those yellow leaves...though I think I could surrender to those forever.

I'm intimidated by the cold. It really does a number on me. Holds me in her grasp. Makes me feel small and vulnerable. The other day in the park I saw a blue heron. Big, beautiful, shiny, gray, she stood still and graceful as stone on the frozen creek. I got the chills. I stopped and stared. I wondered how I could be standing so close to such a wild and beautiful creature.

I feel that same way when I look out the window now. The valley view now thoroughly fogged over. The house silent. Sol safe and bundled in his crib. Els still at school. My teacup empty. My body settling into the weekend.

I know that these white days are short. Short and precious. That we are again moving closer to the light. That the months will unfold and bring new beauty to our days. For now, I'll choose my images of 2010. I'll close that chapter and open my arms to what's to come.

January 2010February 2010
March 2010April 2010
May 2010June 2010
July 2010August 2010
September 2010
October 2010

November 2010
December 2010

san pancho

2011-01-02T16:13:00.000-08:00

I sit here with a chill in my bones, looking out at the snow covered valley I call home. There's so much to say about our time away, time that feels far and fleeting already. I'm drawing on lessons re-learned in Mexico, lessons on slowing down, taking rests, noticing, to help me find perspective on the massive piles of laundry that need to be done, all those darn things that need to find their homes again. Whenever we come home from a trip I marvel at all the stuff we have. Vacation is a purge on so many levels. We learn how little we really need. That we really just need each other.

It can all wait. I can settle down. For now, notes on an amazing time.

I'll start with a journal entry. It seems to give shape to my mind full of memory.

So here I am, week two of our splendid Mexican adventura. I've settled into vacation mode pretty hard. It's fun to go over the decompression, now that I've thoroughly decompressed. At first we're still all coiming down, each bite is novel, each burro wandering down the cobblestones and loud ola something to marvel at. I still move too fast. Do wild, rockin' yoga sessions, grip the cobblestones, play with the residual energy that courses through me. Fret when Sol doesn't sleep enough, still short on patience with Els. Not overt enough in my affection for Jeff.

Then I watch myself settle. Lose complete track of time. Let Sol settle into luxurious beach siestas on my sandy chest, see Els curls tighten into sprightly, slinky-like ringlets, enjoy each wild utterance from her loquacious mouth. And how she's embraced this place! Makes friends with everyone, everywhere. Sang all her best Spanish school songs for Pondo the Mexian fisherman, practiced her kicks in a round of beach soccer with a friendly local family on Christmas, found herself eating her first candy cane when she settled in with the gay boys on the beach, shiny red speedos, Santa hats, greasy, smooth chests. A good life we're living! Saw ballenas and dolphins from the fishing boat, just watched 'em dance and leap and smack their huge fins. As Colleen noticed, just watched 'em pass on by, watched them navigate through the immense blue of their day to day. What else? I cooked a rockin' Christmas dinner for twelve - pork roast in a balsamic, molasses reduction, flan from scratch. No stress, utter enjoyment. That's big. I've had lots of beautiful time with my husband and kiddos, my extended family and friends. I'v ewatched la hora de feliz get progressively easier, read books, eaten numerous delicious fish tacos, watched the sunrise and the sunset with my trusty boy attached to me, our slow saunters to and from sleep, in and out of varying levels of consciousness. He's ready to walk, that one. So strong. Not even eight months and standing up on everything, ready to get his toothless, sloppy grin into all sorts of shenanigans. My children make me so proud. That's such a wonderful feeling. The way Eliana delivers joy to those around her. The way she loves fiercely, playfully, calls everyone by name. Her buddies. You can find 'em everywhere. And my beautiful husband. The way he takes care of everyone. Rocks his new favorite sport, waits for waves in his own, zen like way. I am so thankful to have had so much lovely, calm, appreciative time with him. We're a unit, working together, consistently, constantly, adoringly.

So that's a pretty thorough re-cap. I'll let the pictures guide some more memories and let go of a need for perfection.
The only pic I have of the four of us, packed, Mexican style, in the back of Jack's jeep.

The San Pancho Synergia Arte festival provided Eliana with a local carousel and local buddies to ride with.
Nothing like watching baby sea turtles head to the ocean to give some much needed perspective on the importance of each shining moment of this life.

A defininte highlight was watching Eliana in the pool. She was so proud of her newfound, floaty independence.Big Sol and his amazing grin, his strong sturdy legs, his adventurous spirit!

The amount of time sweet Sol and I spent attached. The number of tortillas he consumed with his gummy little chompers.

Watching the family all together, the generations, the laughter.

Our very unique Christmas, our sweet fake tree, our gratitude garland.

Our other family...

My children growing into their sibling-hood...

While I'm thankful for all the photos, no picture can capture how important this vacation was for me. I feel like I've been in a chaotic fog since school started. Being away gave me a chance to find myself again. I really like the girl who was in Mexico. She's funny and relaxed and grounded. She's capable and kind and creative. She rolls with it. My goal for myself in this new year is to try to keep that spirit alive and rockin' every day. Even when I'm exhausted. Even while I answer forty seven random questions coming from the brilliant minds of third graders. Even when my daughter is wrought with exhaustion and pushing all my buttons. Or my guy wakes for the third time in the night. Or my dog incessantly paws at me. The mess in the house mounts...

I will draw on those waves. The long walks. Floating on my back. Smiling in awe at my husband as we watch our children play. Thank you, San Pancho. Thank you for giving us a break.

mexico!

2010-12-13T14:23:00.000-08:00

Eliana and I made up this little song last year around this time. It goes something like this:
Mexico! We're going to Mex-ih-coah!
(repeat again and again with incredible exuberance)

We just dug that one up and started singing again. Cuz we're going back. After one nap. Eliana measures her life in naps. I seem to measure my life in breaks. I think after fifteen years of teaching and a lifetime of an academic calendar schedule, it's hard not to think of things in little chunks, all surrounded by splendid weeks of respite. I am at the end of my fall chunk! My first fall chunk of being a working mama with two kids. It's been a hell of a chunk. Busy and wild and full and ridiculous. I'm ready for a bookend.

It's funny the things you don't articulate or plan but just somehow happen. Jeff and I met as teachers. We saved money to travel somewhere fun over our breaks. When we became parents, we never consciously planned to travel with our kids. But this is Eliana's third trip to Mexico. Pretty good for a three year old. Sol's passport is all ready to be stamped. He's so sweet in his little photo. So official, that Sol. I guess he was with us last year, just in a different capacity...

The bags are packed, sunscreen and tums purchased and we're ready to roll. Last year we came home for Christmas. I felt really strongly about Eliana having holiday memories in her home. This year I don't have any of that sentiment. I'm not sure what happened. Perhaps I don't have time for it! I love that they'll have memories of a Christmas in the sunshine. The posada. Tamales. Lots of friends and family in an exotic and warm locale. An adventure.

Most importantly, though, I'm ready for some down time with my people. Our foursome. Ready to snuggle up and read books and meander and cook together. To break out of my routine of tasks that move us from one day to the next. Ready for the spontenaity that travel brings. The break from procedures or expectations. The surrender to the moment (especially in a country like Mexico where the very notion of time is different to the way it is here). Ready to carry Sol on my chest and hold Elie's hand. To be together. Look, it's our whole family! While this is one of her favorite exclamations, Eliana doesn't seem to get to say this enough because we always seem to be moving too fast. I'm ready to shout it from the rooftops. Our whole family. Together. For two whole weeks. On our own, sunny path.

My favorite mommy/daughter pic ever was taken in Sayulita two years ago. So much happiness...