transitions

I'm not a huge fan of transitions.  I'm not sure who is.  My kids certainly aren't too into them.  I remember in our wild and sometimes dark early twenties, finding Melissa at the end of a long day.  She'd exclaim with tears or disdain, "I'm transitioning."  I remember how valid those words were.  Transitioning.  A time for the gamut of emotions to run amuck.

Last week I was transitioning.  I left California, left my family, left my gorgeous, perfect little niece.  The week was full, as they always seem to be.  When we felt the wheels of our airplane lift off into the sky, Eliana looked at me with full, sad eyes and said, "Mom.  I just miss them all already."  I know exactly how she feels.   Eliana and Sol have twenty cousins in California.  Twenty!  There is an enormous amount of fun to be had.  Some highlights include the three of us (that's me, Elie and Sol - we've become real tight like that this summer...) racing like landlocked fools into the Pacific Ocean, the 76 degree water like a giant, soft welcome home.  It was one of those moments when I marveled at where I come from.  Do people really live here?  With this amazing blue, watery thing in their backyards?  

Holding Mazzy.  That probably should move even before the ocean.  Her perfect little breaths.  Her tiny nose.  The way my sister watches her, feels her, moves with her.  Her squeaks and squawks.  A miracle.

And watching the generations share that miracle.  How we all wanted our turn.  The way Sol gave her a shout out at the dinner table. (Eliana is way into dinner table questions.  Her question that night, "What is your favorite part of nature."  Sol's answer, "Mazzy.")  Watching Wendy rock her quietly on her front porch.  The way my mom can sit still forever with Mazzy in her arms. 











 More generational love.  Watching my parents (long divorced), reading to Eliana together, propped up on pillows like they used to, just hanging out. 

The way Eliana and Sol and Piper can play and play in that special cousin way. 

The way Eliana wanted to practice all of her cousin's names so that she didn't confuse any of Tim and Laura's girls (which isn't easy, as there are six).  It was solid time.  I was solidly present with my babies the whole time.  Present in that elevated way that comes when you are the only parent.  The only parent and traveling.  Present personified. 

Then we transitioned back home.  I saw Jeff at the airport and I felt myself breathe a huge sigh of relief, felt my feet plant a bit more firmly on the earth, felt my heart rate slow.  I love where I come from, but golly moses, it wears me out.  Do it single mama style while my two babes are at the top of their wild game, and it makes for a wee bit of tension in the old shoulders. 

So I took a big breath in of dry, hot, Montana August air, the brown mountain backdrop, the low, dark, end-of-summer rivers.  The rest of the week was a slow savor of the last free days.  Long jammied mornings.  Lots of hot water pour overs for me and the french press.  Awaiting daddy's arrival home so that we could all venture out to a park or a meander around the neighborhood.  . 

The slow was extra appreciated as we anticipate the next transition.  The next transition that we entered today.  Soli's first day of junior preschool (that my friend, Jeremy, hilariously labeled, "JPS").  My first day back at work, full-time.   Elie's last week before kindergarten.  We're all grown up around these parts. 

The kids were exhausted after their respectively full, kiddo centered days.  A random, freakish storm shut down the power, so we bathed by candlelight and went to bed early.  As I was reading on the deck, watching the red ball of sun grace the smokey sky, I felt the presence of a little person.  Eliana needed a little q.t. before bed.  I poured myself a glass of wine, poured E a glass of milk.  We toasted to kindergarten, to sunsets, to change.  We watched the sun disappear.  Then mourned how quickly it was all over.  Then celebrated that it would all happen again tomorrow. 

impromptu vacay

 Life landed us an impromptu vacation last week.  With all the ins and outs of Morty's arrival, we put our scheduled two week camp out plans aside. But once he was settled and Jeff felt good about his set-up, we sprung away for a last minute trip to the coast.  The kids are amazing travelers.  We high tailed it to Portland and made it there in time for tacos at my favorite Portland taco shop.  It was so good to see family, especially in light of all that's going on.  Being at Kelli and Jack's is so comfortable for all of us and watching cousins together is absolute, pure love.

Somehow our random plans landed us in line with my girl Melissy's family vacay as well.  Melissa and I talk almost every day and she probably know the ins and outs of my day to day better than anyone.  All that talk, yet we never, ever see each other.  I hadn't even met little Lilit, aka, Lulu, my absolute favorite red tutu wearing little mama. 

 Being able to spontaneously meet up with Miss Malarky three times in one day was absolutely rad.  It breaks my heart that friends and family have to be all split up but it sure does make it sweet when we can swing some together time.  I love this girl.

Speaking of love, there was lots of love between a coupla other girls too.  Miss Annabelly and her big sister cousin were way too sweet.  Eliana loves the big cousin role and was all about taking care of the littles.  Annabelle is growing into such a sweet, chatty and long little lady!  Loved watching their madness.

It was quality time in the city followed by quality time on the coast.  The weather in Seaside was unusually hot and sunny making for lots of time to play in the sand.  Kelli, Jack, Jeff and I stayed up late talking about life and love, family and friends.  I am such a junky for meaningful conversations and that one was way up there.  You can't plan for them, but when they come, what a gift!

 As tends to be the case on the Oregon and Washington coast, our dose of sun was followed by some cooler days.  We found our campsite in the little Washington fishing village of Westport and settled in for five days of surf, campsite goofiness, lots of make believe beach games, and a ton of fresh seafood.  Matt and Amy were there to provide their fill their roles as raddest playmates ever.  As always with those guys, our groove was pretty mellow.

 I am so thankful for the time I am given with my family outdoors.  We had no toys at the beach.  Annabelle's old pail, a shovel we found on the beach, a couple of books.  That was it.  So much of our normal day to day feels so overwhelmed by stuff.  It drives me wonky.  The way one tiny little piece of "plastic crap" (as Jeff loves to say) can wreck such havoc on a seemingly normal day.  Being outside with them is absolute bliss.  I feel so present, so ready to engage, to go wherever they want to, figuratively, go.  Why is that?  What is it about vacation that makes parenting feel so much easier?  Is it that we are together as a family, all equal players in engagement?  Is it just the obvious -- that we are free from the day to day grind of work and school and schedules?  Chime in anytime, as I'd love to figure it out.  All I can say is a week away from it all puts me in such a place of peace.  All of us.  I have nothing but gratitude for this time. 

Tomorrow we say goodbye to daddy and continue our travels, heading south to Cali to meet, finally, baby Mazzy.  I can hardly wait. 

all in a week

I sit here looking out at another summer Saturday.  My hair is still wet from the creek, Eliana is sitting next to me with her crayons, Sol is sleeping peacefully and Jeff is on a mountain bike ride.  All is quiet and calm.  Yet when I think back on our week, it seems too full to express in one sitting.  I'll give it a go.

Friday morning Wendy and Piper arrived in Missoula for their annual summer funfest.  We love having that time with them.  It's all cousin goofiness, outdoor adventures and hanging hard.
 
 

I love approaching Missoula as a tourist every now and then.  I appreciate the laid-back vibe, the proximity to wilderness, all the freaks at the market.  Wendy and Piper have come enough times now that we have certain things that we love to do -- carousel, parks, Farmer's market.  One of the highlights is when Wendy and I get to go out to dinner and Jeff hangs with the cousins.  I shot this view of the sunset as we headed to dinner the other night.  I'm really into sunsets right now.

Just as we got into the swing of things, Jeff had to hop on a plane headed east.  He was bound for New Jersey to get his dad from a memory care facility there and bring him here where he would reside in a similar home.  It was an extremely intense visit for him.  Not only did he have to face his dad's decline head on, he had to then take two planes across the country with a man who is no condition to fly.  My heart swells with love when I think of what he's been through this week - how clear and positive he was when he finalized his plan to go get Mort, how he  stepped out of the car after finally making it home and fell into our arms, tears in his eyes and exclaimed, that was the hardest thing I've ever done.

So my story is all over the place.  Somewhere between Jeff returning and Wendy and Piper leaving, another major shift occurred.  My dear Hilary, far and away the closest person to me in my life pretty much, ever, went into labor.  We talked a few times as things slowly kicked into gear.  She was at Eliana's birth, so she had some first time experience with what birth can look like.  I pictured her walking in her little neighborhood, moving through contractions comparing our situations as I'm apt to do.  Imagined her up all night in the wild, hormonal haze of pre-birth.  That time when your body knows something is about to go down.  Something huge.  It's such a surrender this whole birth/mama thing.  It all seems about surrender these days.  Surrender to the baby as she moves through your body.  Surrender through the haze as your father-in-law slips deeper into a state of unknowing.

I knew that I would be in Montana when Hilary gave birth.  What I didn't know know was how hard it would be for me to be so far from her while it was going down.  And it was sort of a sandwich effect.  The combination of Jeff unexpectedly leaving coupled with my big sister and niece having to head home after too short of a visit left me feeling pretty dang alone and far, far, far from the people who know me the best.  As Hilary's very long labor carried on, I fell deeper into my far away pity party.  Everything was shifting all at once.  At one point I found myself listening to Brandon's tunes, loosing myself in the intensity that is the life-death trajectory.  I was filled with anxiety about my sister, about Mort, about Jeff, about everyone making it out okay.  I watched my children play their favorite games, naked with the hose in the yard, filling up the cooler with water and leaves to make potions and baths.  They seemed to exist in a different dimension, the absolute present, wholly free from the cloudy place that I was in.  Thank goodness for the children.  They always bring me back.

I picked myself up, plopped them in the stroller and we headed out the door.  I needed to go away from the phone, the stereo, the technology that was holding me in this weird place.  We hoofed it through the neighborhood, bought popsicles at the store, chatted.  When we got home our buddy Josh was there to hang, to listen, to jump in.  Eventually the sun had set and the children were settled.

And then the text came in.  Mazzy Rell is here! it read.  And all that angst and anxiety and weirdness moved again.  Tears came.  And with tears, relief.  I was too tired to write it all down.  Just wanted to lay down and feel the peace that comes from knowing everything is going to be okay.

 

 

 

This was Monday night.  Tuesday Jeff and Mort made it home.  And by Wednesday, I was driving around buying things for Pop Pop to help him settle into his new home.  Eliana and Solomon were so excited to go to Pop Pop's new house.  We  brought him ice cream sandwiches and watched him devour them, his own, then what was left of ours, then the last two in the box, just for good measure.  Some things never change.  Like Pop's love of ice cream.

Other than that, most things are pretty different.  He lives in a nice, little home with other older folks who struggle from dementia.  When we are there, Soli likes to play with their walkers.  Generally they don't seem to notice.  Except for the time when Jeff forgot Sol's pants and one lovely old woman pointed her shaking finger in the direction of his bum, her eyes asking, where the hell are his pants?  

Oh Pop Pop.  Your situation is it's own post, it's own poem, loads and loads of them.  For now, let's just say that he seems to be in a good place.  And he's close by.  And this helps my dear husband feel better about his dad's state.

I just like to look at his eyes.  The eyes have it all.  For a moment the same spark, the same sarcastic, devilish look is in Mort's eyes.

 

 And within minutes, it's gone.  His eyes flutter closed or float back to the TV set.  And then he's back.  And so it goes.

I'm having trouble wrapping this baby up but I"m ready to leave the computer and get on with my summer Saturday.  My girl is done with her drawing, my man is back from his bike ride, my boy is playing dinos, waiting to be rescued from behind his closed door.  I'm settling into this new state.  This new plan of old and new.  

soli boo

My boy is a mover and a shaker.  I absolutely adore him.  And he plum tuckers me out.

Eliana's fifth

My girl and I had a really good day.  We woke to boxes of gifts from Gran -- a "real" violin, dancing scarves, a play computer, a dress up necklace.  Really, the gifts could have stopped right there.  She was so content to go through them all right there in our little bed, our quiet morning. 
 
From there it was pancakes and playtime, cake making followed by impromptu bathing when the two funnies found themselves covered in cake batter.  Els and I dropped Sol off at Gussie's so we could really break it down.  I realized last night, upon falling to sleep, that I had no gift for Eliana.  She has not been a child who has needed anything, ever.  Months before her birth the karma of giving found her way into Eliana's life.  She has more clothes, toys and patio furniture than any child could need.  And, beautifully enough, I have paid for very little of it.

That said, it seemed appropriate that for her fifth birthday, her mama take her shopping.  So...gulp...we headed to the...mall.  The mall is not exactly a place that I frequent.  I'm not exactly a mall girl.  But I'll tell you what.  That made it all the more special.  Eliana and I lurk around downtown all the time.  But to go the extra mile to go to the mall -- the mall mile -- well, let's just say it felt special.

The goal was a new birthday dress (20 or under) and the pick of one new toy (20 or under).  Within minutes of entering the automatic doors, the dress fell into our lap.  At 70% off, no less.  With rhinestones and polka dots.  It's rad.  I brushed my hands together and we headed to The Learning Tree to find The Toy.  This wasn't as easy.  As I mentioned, Els has a lot of great stuff and needs nothing.  She had already told me that she wouldn't look at any doll houses because she really didn't need them.  She's really into need versus want right now.  She loves to tell Soli, you don't need your banjo, Sol, you just want your banjo.  You don't really need it at all. 

Homegirl certainly didn't need anything in The Learning Tree. She ended up with a few new Berstein Bear books and a really soft stuffed tiger.  Need versus want.  I'll take some books and a stuffed animal any day.  Good pick, Sister Bear. 


Then it was birthday lunch.  She had her pick of spots.  She picked Iza, probably for the boba tea and gummy worms that come with the kids bento box.  I was psyched though.  And we had such a sweet and civilized meal.  I can't wait til her brother can be civilized in a restaurant.  He's a Neanderthal.  But that's a story for another time.  Lord is he insane.

So we went and picked up the Wild One from his buddy's place and laid him to sleep.  At which point we went into cake decorating mode.  And then mama went into party planning crazy mode and wild cleaning maniac mode.  Eliana, thankfully, got really into her Disney Princess Polly Pockets.  She's particularly proud of the fact that she can now change their outfits.  Now that's she's five.  Now that's she's five she's also obsessed with the size of all her clothing.  Mama's gonna be cutting some tags out this weekend.  It's five T or bust around here. 

In the blink of an eye it was party time.  In fact, I laughed at myself as I drove towards the party site at two fifty two, as her party was to begin at three.  Thankfully this is Missoula and people are chronically late.  We unloaded way too much food and way too many dress up clothing and set up shop at Pineview.  Eliana's buddies quickly arrived and they became lost in the chaos of parks and parties and princesses and sidewalk chalk.  Before I knew it, it was time for cake (and ten thousand cupcakes, as the case may be).  Somewhere towards the end of, "Happy Birthday" we realized (well, to be totally honest, Jeff realized), that the birthday girl's brother was not among us.  So after passing out a dozen plus cupcakes, I coolly began to case the park.  On the periphery of the park there is a trail, barely beyond the trail, a creek.  Thank God Jeff headed straight to the creek.  While I was lurking somewhere out by the soccer field, Jeff found my son happily playing in the creek.  All alone.  Way, way far away from the rest of the party.

He was covered in dirt, wet and happy.  I had my heart in my mouth.  Jeff looked like he was going to puke.  Only a few of my guests had any clue what was going on.  Casey and Leslie hugged me.  They'd been looking for Sol too.  I was thankful for my dear old friends in that moment.  The girls I've always been so vulnerable with. 

The party continued on.  Eliana got her groove back, as she had suffered from a bit of the birthday girl who is totally overwhelmed and prone to emotional fits of madness, earlier in the festivities.  Nothing like a few cupcakes to restore equilibrium.  Our guests began to make their way back into their summer.  We cleaned and hauled loot and half eaten cheese platters back to the car. 

Eliana had wanted to go out for a sushi dinner after her party.  This was The Plan.  Eliana is really into The Plan.  So we stopped by the house to unload aforementioned cheese platters and left over cupcakes.  Sol was screaming, "I want sushi!" at the top of his lungs while Eliana was obsessing over which new toy she was going to play with next.  Jeff and I were giving each other exasperated looks of pity/exhaustion/frustration as we walked back and forth in the heat between the car and the house.  At which point I looked at Eliana and said, "Are you sure you want to get sushi?"

"Um, mom, actually, I just want to play with my fairies and my new Polly Pocket.  Can you, like, make me a burrito or something?"

Finally.  The voice of reason.  We came inside.  Sol switched his yell from wanting sushi to wanting Polly Pocket.  Little dynamo has not only found his stride, he's found his voice.  And I have new hearing aides.  And he's really, really loud. 

But here we are.  The house is dark and quiet.  New books have been read.  Over-stimulated children are finally asleep.  The counters wiped down for the fifteenth time today.  I could hit the keyboard with my forehead, I'm suddenly that sleepy. But the tale has been told.  The tale of the five year old girl with the golden curls and the incredible words.  The tale of the toddler who wandered to the creek, alone and unattended, in the middle of the birthday song.  The tale of the mom and dad who celebrate their eighth wedding anniversary tomorrow, whose lives are bursting with growing children and aging parents, weddings and dinners and friends, old and new.  The mom and dad whose lives burst open this day, five years ago.
 The way she flew from my body.  The sudden summer rain.  Red sheets.  Her new skin on my chest.  The absolute beginning of this whole new world.