there's something happening here.

We took a plane over a week ago, dashed headlong into Alaska. Got swallowed by its darkness, packed with snow and ice and wind and cold. The family whirled around us, cooking pancakes and pizzas. Little Dax wore fur, strapped to backs, tucked in a snowsuit and giant fur hat, his little red cheeks rounded and pushed up against his eyes.

I am thankful his grandma & uncle & grandpa want take him outside, walk him to meet the horses & the goats & the sheep & the cows. I am thankful for his interest in them and his slow approach. I am thankful for the walk we took, just my son and I, when the day light shone. We watched the light grey trees (those bare giants) against the bright white sky. We listened to the crunch of the snowboots, the rustle of puffy polyester leg against puffy polyester leg. After a mile or so, you fell asleep. The quiet of your face with the quiet of that snowy tree-lined road. That's the moment that Life Is.

I worry about us, as a people. On the plane, they now hand out these digital players that come with music & movies & the like. The girl next to me, who taps her foot while fussing with her phone seems relieved to receive her player. She orders a movie and after 32 minutes, decides against it. She quickly orders another. She zips between the movie and something on her phone for the next two hours. When the credits roll, she anxiously plays solitaire. And I'm not trying to pick on this girl--the whole planes' faces are bathed in the white artificial light of screens. People mindlessly wormholing into digital mazes.

Can't we Just Sit There anymore? What, I wonder, is this doing to our brains? Our interactions? Our relationships? Everything is so quick & fantastic & bright & big & frantic & violent. It seems so addictive & impulsive & gross, this behavior of ours.

It's getting worse too. Why must there be a television EVERY-FUCKING-WHERE?!  At the gym now, they are attached to the cardio machines. The users look like wired mice. I wonder if they are even getting a workout, since their minds are so far removed from their bodies? Doesn't anybody want to feel anything anymore?

I took Dax to zpizza the other day, a treat (for me really). We sat there eating, when I noticed him gazing off in the distance. I followed his eyes to a television in the corner. I felt so sad then. First off, he's one years old. One. Years. Old. Which, according to the AAP, children shouldn't be watching any television until they're two. (Mind you, I have been known to throw a little Curious George on when trying to cook dinner, but at least the viewing and content is under my control as a parent). How would I be able to avoid television & its seemingly unchecked content if I tried? Televisions are in airports & malls & cars & restaurants & every other damn place you can think of now because apparently we can't even stand to speak to each other anymore.

I am not immune, especially to the internet. I am amazed sometimes at how some hours can go by in browsing time and nothing accomplished, not a stitch closer to my dreams & goals. How dare I say, 'there's not enough time?' How much of itdo we buzz away? And after I am off the internet, how do I feel? Anxious. Tired. A little Frantic. It certainly doesn't relax me. It doesn't refresh me (although writing does).

But sometimes I simply crave a mindless crawl through fave websites. I am familiar with this thinking/feeling/needing from an old ex-addiction to cigarettes--I would THINK a couple cigs would relax me, but truly, every puff would make me more anxious, more needy, wanting more. Is there enjoyment? Yes, of course, trust me I loved my cigs, but long-term happiness? Heck no.

 I saw a girl on the swing the other day, looking at her phone and texting. She was missing it. The whole part of swinging where your mind gets all freed up & you can feel your body & your smile and the wind whooshing between your teeth. These are the moments that regenerate the brain. The ones that help us think deep & clear. Without them, what kind of citizens will we be?

It makes me scared & sad & mad for Dax. I don't see kids playing on the street here (a nice safe suburban neighborhood, easily walkable).I don't want him to miss out on all the beautiful things that surround us, calm us. My whole childhood was about the woods and the sky and the lakes and the rivers--I found solace there, freedom, repose. Where will he find his peace of mind? The backdrop of his memories? A google search?

I am afraid for him to grow up with peers whose attention spans are .02 miliseconds. How much can a parent really do? I can field damage control, of course, but in a world like ours where it seems so many people are accepting this new life of ours and not asking questions. Where the business owners are tacking televisions in every corner. Where every new car comes equipped with a television, so kids don't even stare out windows anymore. They just listen to the soundbites, get all jumbled up by The Noise.

How can I tell my son: There's another way, 
When the whole world seems to be telling him otherwise?

Letter to a 14 month old

You got a wicked sense of humor kid. It's very very weird to see my sense of humor on a little being. It's not always as cute as I think it is ;-)! For example, you boink people on the head with any old object and then clap & laugh like a maniac. Your Daddy kind of looks accusingly at me when you do this.

When you find something that you are not supposed to be handling i.e. my phone or unattended dangerous objects, I start towards you and say in a stern voice, "Daaax...". You immediately get this bright glint of joyous mischief in your eye, squeal loudly, and then sprint with fervor in the other direction, little fingers clutched tight around your forbidden treasure. I can't help but grin at your antics.

However, when I reach you and manage to pry whatever breakable/expensive/beloved thing you've managed to acquire with your grippy little hand, you SCREAM at the top of your lungs and throw your back into an arch. This, my little love, is an exceptionally dramatic way to express your displeasure & I ignore you completely & two seconds later you're fine, toddling and giggling at some other random thing.

You are all boy & love to climb & get into things. Here's a short action sequence spanning 37 seconds in real time.

You've got this totally annoying & messy super fun new hobby of taking everything and throwing it over the stairs. You also love to drag things from mine & daddy's room to your room and vice versa. So the house is all mixed up all the time. I'm finding your books or toys in fun places, like our bedroom drawers. And colorful little drums & rattles in the pots & pans drawer in the kitchen. All of this makes me feel hopelessly messy completely amused. It also makes me want to donate everything we own to Goodwill.

You are officially officially on one nap a day! I feel like some kind of mecca of parenthood has been reached. What a relief to only worry about one nap a day! We can get going in the morning, come back for your ONE NAP OMG, and then go out in the afternoon if we want! You are also still SLEEPING THROUGH THE NIGHT!!! Sleeping. Through. The. Night.

You did stop sleeping through the night for a few weeks because you got sick again on November 19th. That same super sick that you did on Halloween where we had to count your breaths and give you breathing treatments. Honey, you were in a bad shape. It tore my heart out, and makes me worry so hard that I want to tear my hair out.

Your Daddy was calm though and reassured me that we didn't need to take you to the hospital. We just did what we did last time with the nebulizer and you slept on either me or daddy for about 24 hours. By the morning on the second day you were back to good, breaths slow & steady, but it took you the rest of the month to beat the junky lungs.

After your sickness passed, to get you back to sleeping through the night, it simply took two or three nights of Daddy going to you when you called & holding you or humming to you until you fell asleep. You kept pointing to our room, but Daddy stayed strong. Daddy didn't get much sleep those couple of nights & you weren't particularly excited about it, but you were never alone and now you sleep great. I am so relieved (huge understatement) that you've seemed to reached a new milestone!

Grandpa Gary came to visit this month. We took you on a nice long walk around Lake Poway. The fresh air and the ducks put you right to sleep--it was nice to have you sleep in the sling again! He also took you to the park with your Uncle Cole where I hear he yelled at some older kids who were trampling over you at the park. I was pretty pleased with his grandfatherly-protectiveness :-).

For Thanksgiving, my friend Kasey came to visit who had you thoroughly mesmerized by her iphone (you are your father's son). We cooked a big fat (and very very lackluster) meal (when will we ever get it right?!). The highlight of which was Uncle Cole's 'Holiday Sangria,' which you can taste in just a few short decades.

Kasey, Uncle Cole & Daddy in front our weak-ass attempt at a grown-up meal (I promise you that by the time you care, I'll learn how to cook an amazing T-day meal)

You are in cloth diapers 95% of the time (you sleep in a sposie at night) and I am loving it. You have never had one single diaper rash your whole life & you always look cute in your fluffy butt. Your Aunt Stacy is now proudly cloth-diapering your new cousin Pria & that has given us infinite amount of time to obsess about all the cute diapers. I am so happy to have someone else to share my obsession with. Your Daddy teases me a bit about how lovingly I organize your diapers, but I'm pretty sure he finds it ridiculously charming.

Your language is better and better. You understand so much. When I tell you to go get your "truck" or "ball" or "book" or "blankie" or "sippy cup" you look for them and then bring them to me! When I say I want to change your diaper you sprint far far away from me. You try to say "Diego" but it sounds like "Dygo." When those yippy neighbor dogs bark, you run to the window and bark back.

You LOVE the book "Jingle Bells," much to my dismay. You carry it to my lap at least five times a day. I'm quite possibly tone deaf so singing is simply not my bag, but I do it for you anyway because it's probably the right thing to do. You can hum three full bars of Jingle Bells now, which is pretty darn cool.

We love you so much little guy. You make me smile all day long. Thanks for your buckets of sunshine.

(My camera is on the fritz so there are only a few photos as of late. This is killing me. I didn't put a fancy new camera on my Christmas list either, so I am apologizing for your lack of pictures this month & the next few until I get this worked out buddy.)

Letter to a 13-month-old

Dear Dax/Daxy/Daxadocious,

Would you stop getting cooler and cooler and funner and funner? I don't think my heart can take it, it's going to explode. Especially in the mornings when I'm all sleepy and I don't want to hear your giggles, and I try to get you to stay asleep by snuggling in the bed with us but you always get squirmy and at some point you sit up and smile at me as if you alone own JOY. And I can't help but geniuinely smile, because I got blessed with the happiest brightest eyes and smile at 7am in the damn morning erg.

Then Daddy, bless his heart, gets up and does a quick babyproof (stair gate hitched, cat's water removed, phone up high), before we put you on the floor to toddle around like a maniac, moving things to and fro, while Daddy gets ready for work and I try to peel my brain from my deep dark awesome sleep and into the present which requires me to get up and do stuff. Lots of stuff. All day.

When Daddy leaves, I throw in the towel and leave the most cozy place on the planet to scoop you up and take you downstairs where we turn on some light morning tunes and cook breakfast together. You still like to cuddle up with me in the sling in the mornings as I waltz around the kitchen breaking eggs and chopping peppers and cutting fruit. I love to smell the top of your head and ruffle the curls by your neck.

You and me eat much of the same things and almost the same amounts, although you randomly get picky about weird things now, like too-soggy textures and hidden broccoli in macaroni. You still throw unacceptable things on the floor. While I've gotten 100 times better at sweeping & mopping, your habits of food dispensing cause the kitchen to look destroyed more often than I'd like to admit.

The rest of the day, I try to keep you out of the house and busy during the day or you get crazy and cranky. We go to my mom's playdate group at lot, and we go on walks in the neighborhood, and I run errands with you and take you to the park. I try to leave the house every day to keep your hunger-for-exploration satiated. Plus, we still have lots of visitors that keep you thrilled. Beth came this month again, and we finally planted those winter vegetables!

Your 13th-month started out with some extra time with your Grandma Deb after everyone else left. We took you to the nearby pumpkin patch where you were wheeled around in a wheelbarrow through the rows of bright orange pumpkins.

The main reason we went was because of the petting zoo. Your Grandma loves to introduce you to animals. She has her own farm up in Alaska where she teaches kids all about the farm and the animals and the food there. She wants to make sure you know all about it too! You did great with the goats & the llama & the camels.

A couple of days later, we took you to the Wild Animal Park up in Escondido for your first time! You fell asleep in my arms right as we took off on the big safari to see the giraffes, but when you woke up you got to see elephants & gorillas & monkeys & loons & all sorts of other fun stuff.

After your Grandma and Vito left, your father and I took you back to the pumpkin patch! Your Daddy wheeled you around this time in the wheelbarrow. They had all sorts of odd opportunities for photo-ops scattered around the little carnival, so I capitalized on the weirdness and took some shots.

how handsome is your father, geeezz?!

You have been sick all stinking month kid. I think my breastmilk is broken because it doesn't seem to be helping you at all. I feel like I am failing you. I think I need to carry sanitizer and wash your hands more, because this is getting ridiculous. 

You got well long enough at the end of the month to make it to a few Halloween events. My mom's playdate group set up a fun event at the park where everyone decorated the trunks of their cars and the dressed-up kids trick-or-treated from car to car. You wore an old polyester suit that your daddy had when he was young! You looked so dapper in your vintage pants and vest.

you don't eat candy, but I do let you play with it!

this is you with some of the other kids in their costumes

The actual day of Halloween was a very scary day for us though. You woke up and you were very wheezy and your breath was very heavy. It looked like you were struggling to breathe and your heartbeat was very fast. At the pediatrician's office, he was worried he might have to send you off to the hospital, but the breathing treatments we did there worked to calm down your breath. We were there almost all day as the doc checked all sorts of things and did a chest xray to check for pneumonia (I hated this one the worst!). You were diagnosed with severe bronchiolitis and we were sent home with a nebulizer to give you treatments every four hours.

Your Daddy and I pulled a mattress into your bedroom and your Daddy got up all night long and counted your breaths to make sure they weren't too high. We figured you needed a really good rest, so we just kept checking on you instead of waking you up all night. The next day you were much better and the pediatrician looked relieved. You recovered almost completely by the next day as if nothing had happened. Kid, oh kid, I can't imagine what other parents go through during a tough illness or something worse. It makes me ill to even think about. 

Dax in one of my fave cloth diapers & the first pair of shoes that  truly fit right

I have the best news ever for you though. This month, for the first time EVER, you slept through the night. It happened when the fams was here. We thought something happened to you, but you were always safe & sound. We thought it was a fluke, but it just kept happening. We couldn't believe it. What an enormous treat to sleep uninterrupted for 6-9 hours! I felt refreshed actually!

You still take two naps, but are getting close to transitioning to one. You smile and laugh all the time. You say 'dada' when I say 'bathtime' because he gives you most of your baths. You freak out when I take something away that you want. You chase Diego all around no matter how many times I say 'gentle buddy' and 'careful buddy.' You get a twinkle in your eye when you know you are doing something I don't want you to do. You know the words 'ball' and 'book' and 'blanket' and many others. Your understanding seems more and more each day. 

You are the light of my life, little buddy. You have filled my life with an enormous sense of purpose that I've never felt before. Life is harder, funner, fuller, and more amazing than ever before. I pray that I can be the mother that you need me to be. 

I Once Saw a Psychic Who Told Me I'd Have 2 Kids

When I was in college, living in Tempe, Arizona, the summers blew air like ovens--stagnant and too much to bear.

I lived with a bunch of girls--best gal pals--who lived together & worked together & schooled together. We rode bright beachcruiser bikes to classes. We lit tealights in the stairwell of our walk-up. We cocktail waitressed at the bar on the downtown main street--a bar with live music & art & we took shots with the manager to ignite the nights. If it all sounds carefree & light & bohemian, it's Because It Was.

Just a hop over the fence behind our rental with its 2 beds & 2 baths was the local taco shop and a head shop and a liquor store. Just a skip from that was Mrs. Rita's house. It was a clapboard 1950's home on the main drag that we'd pad by everytime we went to the food co-op or the Irish pub. Mrs. Rita was (is) a psychic, a very well known one for the simple fact that she owned that little bungalow on the main main drag.

Her house was quaint and decorated with that diamond-shaped sign in the lawn that said says her name and her psychic services in bright blue cursive. The curtains were always drawn. A few cars always littered the driveway. And I never saw a single person coming or going in my decade of living there. But Mrs. Rita is kind of a local celebrity, since any person frequenting the center of town would pass by that diamond-shaped sign every time.

I like psychics, as people, being that they are typically asymmetrically interesting in their thoughts and their ways. However, now I don't suppose I like going to them anymore. Age & superstitions & changing ideas about destiny have eased out this particular curiosity over time. I used to think it was fun & interesting. Now, for the very reason that I can't stand violence in movies anymore, I can't stand listening to a perhaps future: I'm simply too sensitive. I can't risk a mind full of images.

Or maybe it has to do with Mrs. Rita. Because after I went to her, I could never shake the feeling that she was right.

My brother and I decided to make the journey across the street and tap on her door because we had a sense of adventure and curious minds and we half-believed we'd get some real insight into our lives. At the door, a young Mexican girl, no older than 18, asked us what we wanted. We replied, and held out the bills in our hands. She asked my brother to follow her, and she sent me into a dusty old room with a tattered wingback chair in the center and soon there appeared Mrs. Rita.

For forty dollars she sleepily told me that I would live a lovely life and that I would find what I was looking for and she didn't think any great tragedy would befall me. She told me specific things too, without me telling her a thing, like I would love three men in my life. At that time, I had already truly madly deeply loved two, and hadn't met the third yet. And she was right, soon after, I met and fell in love with David--my magnus opus--and I'll never love another.

The thing she told me that bothers me is that I would only have two children. One boy. And one girl. The boy would be the older one, and after having Dax, that's true too. And here I am, butted up against the reality of the amount of children I will have and I'm thinking my next will be a girl and then there will be no more and the reason I think this most is Because Mrs. Rita Said So.

My brother got some abrupted Tarot card reading from the young girl and doesn't remember a thing, but for me, it's been at least a decade and I can't shake it. Part of me wants to have more than two children, just to prove her wrong. To tell myself that even if a psychic gets some things right they don't get all things right and just because it stuck in my brain for so long, that it doesn't make it so.  But I suppose it's silly to make decisions about one's life just to make a point.

I don't know how many children I'm going to have (ps two or three are the choices). I grew up as the middle misfit child of three. I liked the set-up: two people to talk to (in case I needed a second opinion). I think multiple siblings help people know that the world can go a whole bunch of different ways. Almost no one agrees, even those people you love most in the world, and I think that's a good thing to know about. On the other hand though, I simply might not have the energy for three. Plain & simple.

Most people will tell ya that you'll know when you're done, you'll get this 'all finished' feeling in your gut that lets you know. I guess I won't know until I have that second baby. I think I want three, but according to Mrs. Rita, it ain't gunna happen.  We'll see, Mrs. Rita, we'll see. 

Letter to a 12-month-old on His Birthday

This is long overdue, I know. I've been avoiding it because it feels so large and overwhelming. But I need to get through this. So here goes...

You had a crazy month bud. For most of it, we traveled or had visitors in our home. Your little cousin Pria was born, so we went to see her in Minnesota.

Aunt Stacy with your new cousin Pria

You started walking the day before we left. The day was September 15th, 2011. Just two weeks short of your one year birthday.

at the airport! day two of walking

It was hard to take you on the plane this time. You have so much energy and curiosity that it is difficult to keep you entertained in such confined quarters. Luckily, we had nice people next to us.

You loved hanging out with your Nana Kay. She had fun new toys and a whole new place for you to walk around, so you were pretty stoked. She loved to play peek-a-boo with you, and now you still love to play all the time. She also taught you how to roll all around in the covers, and I've never seen anything cuter.

Nana Kay & Dax

At Aunt Stacy's house, we were all pretty busy with all the babies, but you just took it in stride. You were still pretty shaky on your feet, so you seemed pretty accident prone unfortunately. I don't know how to get you to not fall down and hit your head on walls. I can't pad the walls. Or can I? Luckily, you're much better now, but for the first few weeks, I think I aged five years watching you fall all over everything.

We got a lot of quality time with everyone though. Here's some fun pictures of us at the park in Elk River, Minnesota.

Your sleep is really starting to wear on me. It is so much harder when Daddy is not around. We finally got to use Nova's crib and bedroom with a fan, and you did your best there. However, I am really ready for a change. When will you sleep better sweetie?

After a week in Minnesota, we all hopped in the car and traveled to Fargo for my cousin Josh's wedding to Albra.

road trip to Fargo!

We met Daddy in Fargo, thankfully. You seemed pretty thrilled to see him. The whole family was there too and you loved meeting them all. You finally got to meet your great-grandmother Lucille. We got some pictures of you at the wedding with her that I treasure.

Great-Grandma Lucille & Dax

You also got to meet all of your second cousins on my (Dad's) side of the family: Abram, Dylan, Luke, Austin, and Georgia.

Then, we drove with Nana Kay and Daddy to Thief River Falls to see your Grandpa Dan and your Great-Grandma Lavonne. All of Daddy's aunts and uncles (your great aunts and uncles) threw you an impromptu first birthday party with a cake and all sorts of presents.

We stayed on your great-great-great grandfathers land that he homesteaded in 1904. Your grandpa and great-uncle Luther still farm the land there. There's so much history there, we got to see old pictures of your extended family.

in the tractor with Grandpa Dan

generations

Back in San Diego, we had about a week before the whole family arrived for your first birthday celebration and baptism. Your Nana Kay came back with Aunt Stacy and Nova and Pria. Your Grandma Deb and Vito and your great-grandmother Carolyn came too. Nonnie and Grandpa Gary and your Aunt Age & Uncle Tony & your cousin Tatum drove up for your birthday too!

at the bday bash!

Your birthday celebration was awesome. A few of our friends and family came too all to see you! You didn't care much for the cake smash we prepared for you, but Tatum reminded me that you probably didn't like it because I "feed you all that organic crap." hehehe....

On Sunday, October 9th, your baptism was beautiful. We decorated the backyard with a big white arch & white petals strewn on the lawn & tulle on the fence & flowers. The minister who married us, Jerry Law, came all the way from Phoenix to baptize you. We really wanted it to mean something to us and it did. He said beautiful things about God and your life and our love for you and our prayers for you. It was perfect. You wore one of my favorite white cloth diapers and a white onesie.

You now have a hundred thousand toys. You got trucks, stuffed animals, blocks, books, clothes, a toy phone, a rocking horse, a baby swing--the list goes on an on! We started a savings account for you this month so we can save up some dough from any presents you get.

new toy from Grandma Deb

Your coolest tricks are waving now and saying 'uh oh' whenever something falls on the ground. You push your corn popper around the living room and you want phones like SOOO BADDDD. You say 'mama' and 'dada' with ease. You can do monkey sounds and puppy sounds. You love reading books. You eat brown rice and grapes and eggs  and noodles by the fistful. You still love your baths, but like to stand up now.

in the bath / cutest baby butt EVER

You were sick almost this entire month. Sniffles and cough. I missed your 12 month appt so I have no idea what your stats are, but you are huge kid. You were 18-24 month clothes. Your socks are 2T-3T now. You are so white and your hair is like yellow cornsilk, I have no idea how. I never imagined a blond kid! Your great-grandfather on your dad's side is full-blooded Indian and both your dad & I are pretty dark, so you must have just inherited a lot of that Norwegian on your grandpa Dan's side or something.

Anyway, where does one stop with all of this? I could go on forever of course. You light up our lives. This last year has been the hardest AND most incredible year of my life. Our world will never be the same. Thank God. I love you buddy. Happy one year birthday!!!

a somewhatwhere prayer

I've decided that we have not the money to dye my hair nor do I have the time to pluck the greys. In Minnesota my mother stands next to me in the bathroom, ruffles my hair, "Aren't you a little young to..." she trails off, leaving her question there.

I shrug out from under her hand, trying to duck the physical manifestation of Time Passing.

We are there to celebrate my sister, who has built and birthed another baby. She is a beautiful girl, tiny and quiet.

Here are our three children in a room. We clamor around them. I can't seem to get my head around the way life moves. Why doesn't everyone else seem so amazed? Yet, you must be thinking: Aren't these boring revelations? To sit around oohing at the stars, talking about infinity?

We vascillate between this lucidity and the slow sound of PJ Harvey's voice steady in the air, "Is that all there is? If that's all there is, my friends, then let's keep dancing. Let's break out the booze..."

We attend a wedding in my hometown of Fargo, North Dakota. We visit Dave's family in nearby Thief River Falls. His great-great-grandfather's homestead proudly marked "1904." Dave's father still owns the land and farms there, every season. The horizon just sits there, a cornflower blue sky floats silent & still atop the empty fields. What are we doing, running around like rats in the city?

The thought is full. For a moment. We drive back. Every choice we ever made bringing us back to what we've chosen.

I accept this dream we've built. Knowing it's ours. The dream of us. The dream of our family.

New babies & future babies we tightly love. The weddings and funerals that tick off Time for us. The grey hairs that grow. With life so full of gladness & sadness.

May all of our baggage be full of blessings. Amen.

Dax in front of his great-great-great grandfather's homestead in Thief River Falls, Minnesota

From the Trenches

Things change every day as a parent. Being a parent requires extreme flexibility. It requires quickness and sharpness of mind. It requires creativity. Being a parent, especially of young children, teaches you how to be a Buddha.

One of the main teachings of zee jolly-bellied Buddha is that attachment leads to suffering. This is so true in the parental trenches. If you are attached to a particular outcome or if you become accustomed to the way your child acts in situations, when that changes, it will lead to pain (read: insanity).

In that sense, Dax must make me a better person every day as the patience grows and grows. I have to let go of my vision of things, the way the ego WANTS things to go, and just let them BE. Parenting a baby and remaining sane requires that mentality.

If I'm saying, 'Dax will go down for a nap now and sleep for like two hours.' I try to erase it immediately and say, 'He might not nap, and if that is the case, that will be ok.' Otherwise, the mind goes berserk.

In some ways, having a baby requires you to plan MORE. But on the flip side, having a baby also requires you to plan LESS.

To adapt to the new mommyhood and keep the sanity, here's a few things done around here to maintain the Buddha brain (i.e. not lose the mind, cultivating peace instead):

1) We listen to Pandora all day long when Dax is awake and we're at home. Listening to music adds magic to the moments. It helps one use the adult brain and think adult thoughts and feel adult things. It adds background to the smiles and laughs and goings-abouts of Dax.

2) Traded cars with my husband so that we can leave every day if need be. Not sure how thrilled Dave is to be driving my no-AC little old purple pickup across San Diego county every day (p.s. I love you babe), but it sure beats the craziness that ensues if Dax and I sit home all day .

3) I sign up for my mom's groups meetups that intrigue me & agree to lots of other plans that do the same, EVEN if they are during Dax's naptimes or make his nighttime schedule a little off. I don't know how, but 92% of the time it works out just fine. I don't do it all the time, but I find that a little faith goes a long way.

4) Quit worrying about what to do about Dax in the sleep department. The kid is gunna sleep just fine someday. Right now, he's happy as ever, so what the heck does it matter? Let's just gunna ride this out and not bang the head against a brick wall for the next year or so. See how Buddha that is? Non-attachment to solutions? Check.

5) Learned to clean as the day goes. Well, gotten better. Dax is friggin messy. And this house induces hives if a couple days go by without a clutter-clean, a kitchen floor sweep, a wet mop on the tile. It gets messier, quicker. And I suck at cleaning, so this is a revelation. It's become...more habitual. Out of necessity, of course.

6) Aiming to go to bed at a decent hours, letting go of the need for solitude. I suck as a parent when tired. That must override the ridiculous need to browse the net till midnight. However, sometimes the numbness of the web is necessary. And that's ok too.

There's prolly a thousand more examples. What about you? What things help you let go and flow within the mommy moments?

inquiring minds want to know...

Letter to an Eleven-Month-Old on His Birthday

This month has been insane, buddy. Remember how we said last month was the baby proofing month for us? NOPE, this month has been the baby proofing month, as you've quickly discovered all the cracks in our system.

We have four gates, I repeat, four gates, at various points in the house. Rundown of areas in which you are not allowed: The Bathroom of Danger. The Front Room of Inescapable Problems. The Stairs of Doom. The Tiny Hallway of Cat Doo-Doo. AND The Patio of Thorns and Concrete.

We have purchased foam corners for half of our house. I remember seeing them on the shelves months ago thinking, "A little overboard people, eh?" Now that my son loves to ram his head at full-speed into any edge that might crack open his skull, I cleaned that whole shelf in an afternoon. Budget be damned.

Since your big increase in mobility, I have to love to take you out of the house.  You get uber-fussy if you're indoors all day. There's a neat little play place nearby. It has a special area just for little babies like you that are crawling, but not yet walking. It's padded (phew) and has all sorts of fun stuff for you to explore.

through the door

playing piano

You're seriously the most social kid ever. Whenever a new baby arrives in "the pen," you squint up at them with your new-toothy grin (two bottom and four top!) and point. Then you immediately crawl to them and try to hit them square in the face. I know it's a friendly love tap, but I can't imagine the other mamas are too impressed. I try to say "gentle buddy, gentle" and guide your hand, but I think you're a little too young to grasp what I'm saying.

While most babies ignore you, you connect with other similar social babies and you crawl around the play area together having fun. This month, I've gotten a few adorable glimpses of the joy your future friendships & bro-mances will bring you.

In general you don't really care for toys. In fact, you care mostly for things that are distinctly not toys. I don't know how you know the difference, but I swear you do. If it's designed specifically for you, you tend not to be too impressed. Of what you do like? The trend is: Things that make a loud noise and things that you can fall from climb or ride.

You have however found a renewed interest in books. Which of course makes me giddy, because books are my sanctuary and I hope you find peace there too. You love to turn the pages and when we read to you, you get all interested and quiet and thoughtful and you coo and point at each page. In a room full of your toys, you'll head to the bookshelf every time.

Daddy & I now take long walks in the neighborhood with you. You are so serene on these walks that Daddy & I actually get to talk to each other. We feel like we discovered a loophole :-). We stroll you to the two parks nearby our house, both of which have your fave: the baby swings!

You now wear 18 to 24 month old sized clothing. You must not be aware that YOU ARE NOT YET ONE YRS OLD, LITTLE MAN! I love dressing you so much though, anyone who says boy clothes are not adorable has not seen your wardrobe. I kick the day when you want to dress yourself.

Your nickname officially seems to be "Munchkin," because that's exactly what you are: an adorable & charming little baby who loves mischief. That's the definition of munchkin. Look it up.

this is what a munchkin looks like

Your sleep is all over the place again. I thought your naps were all set, but it's so random now. Sometimes they are three hours, sometimes they are 30 minutes. Sometimes you take two naps, sometimes you only want one.  I thought it was too early for that? I wouldn't be surprised though if you transitioned to one nap early, because as we all know, you sort of suck as a sleeper. Truth be told, I look forward to when you're officially down to one nap--I think it will be easier to manage your sucky sleeping.

I took some mommy breaks this month, which means you spent some fun time with the family. At the beginning of the month, your Nonnie took care of you for a few days in Carlsbad so mommy could go to a conference in downtown. You hung out on the beach and charmed the pants off of everyone.

Dax chillaxing on the beach with Nonnie and fams!

You weren't the best napper (surprise surprise), but your cousin Tatum would do pretty good by whisking you away and holding you and bouncing you until you fell asleep. Then she was smart enough to know that you needed to sleep right there on top of her if you were gunna sleep at all.

taking a nap on your cousin Tatum

Then later on this month, I drove with James to our cousin Katie's wedding to Vince in Pine, Arizona! AND I left you and your father to just bond all weekend long! He LOVED it & so did you! You did better than I thought you would, and that made me pretty darn happy. I think I had the hardest time of all--I missed you so much! I was literally just dying to hold you and listen to you giggle! When I got home, Daddy was schooling me on all sorts of new fun stuff about you.

While you look an awful lot like your Daddy, your Daddy says that your spirit's got an awful lot of me. For example, when you poke people and then laugh like a maniac? Your Daddy swear that comes from me! I have no idea what he's talking about :-).

Your eyes light up and you laugh when you see people you love. Your eyes are full of fire when you're excited. You bring us such ridiculous joy little buddy. What an amazing blessing to have you in our lives. I can not believe that in one month you will be one year old. Blows my flipping mind.

Breakdown in the House of Danger

This house is a minefield. It is NOT, I repeat, NOT baby-friendly. If we were looking again for a rental. I would not choose this house. I would use my big-girl brain and say, "Tile, marble, lots of steps, fireplaces? Naw....sounds like a lot of sharp corners and hard surfaces. Not a place for a baby. Let's move on babe," I would say to my lover. He would laugh and smile at me knowingly, and we would drive as fast as we could away into the San Diego sunset without another thought.

Instead, our pre-baby selves couldn't see these things, and only saw 'nice big tub, large windows, lots of light.' We put our deposit down based on "good vibes." Granted, I love this house, its windows, its vibes, being surrounded by hills and pretty landscape. I've painted it and moved furniture around to make it mine ours. But lately, I want to move into a two-bedroom apartment made out of foam. I want it to be furnished with inflatable coffee tables. I want the drawers and the cupboards to be fashioned out of bubble wrap.

Dax is insane. My precious little sweetie pie is officially the most active little 11-month-old on the entire planet. He has no sense of caution. He goes for things with all his might, as fast as he can, determined, without care for the fact that he has not the balance nor the strength yet to support his will. This causes lots of little scrapes, and owies, and oh my god, that cry! In playgroups, well-meaning mamas have observed that Dax is:
     "very physical."
     "really adventurous."
     "All-Boy."
     "Quite a handful."

Dax runcrawling in play area

Not only does he love to runcrawl all over the hard kitchen tile, it leaves his little baby knees red and tender. Yet he refuses to be deterred. Try to stop him, and he'll SCREAM bloody murder and kick his legs as if to say, "Mooommmmmm, I want to GOOOOOOO there PLZZZZ don't get in my wayyyyy!!!! So I let him back down again and figure if his knees really hurt, he wouldn't runcrawl  on the tile right?!

And he WANTS. Like really really really WANTS things. For example, I am getting ready and have to do something simple like brush my hair, and Dax sees this from afar and sprintcrawls to me with a crazed look of determination indicating that he would like to see that brush RIGHT NOW!!! And then he starts to claw at my knee, and pull himself up, whine, and pound incessantly on my thigh.

As he starts to cry, I'm wishing my hair wasn't so darn long and I'm thinking "I can't just give this kid everything he whines about." So I hide the comb, and when I do, he sees where I put it and precedes to full on break down into a mental case on the floor. And my hair still isn't brushed. And it's not even noon yet.

This continues all day long for absolutely everything I touch. Of course, sometimes I just give him the things he's aching for because it's easier, and they're safe so whatever. And sometimes I don't. And I never really know if what I'm doing is the right thing or the wrong thing and I think about that all day.

Dax with brush

What a willful child. Not sure where he got that from.

The other day, the worst thing happened and it scared me so bad that yesterday I was having little mini-panic attacks. Dax was playing in a drawer--the designated "safe drawer"--that I've left open so that he can explore, but removed all dangerous things. So there he was standing next to the drawer and then he took a step towards me, but lost his balance (because he forgot that he does not yet know how to walk at all). And he fell. Face forward. Onto the corner of the drawer. The right side of his face.  The tender bone by his eye. Hit the corner of that drawer so hard. On impact, it made my entire body ZAP with pain.

After his face hit, he fell to the floor and screamed. Louder than I've ever heard him scream. He hit that drawer right on the corner with his face. Harder than I've ever seen him hit anything. And oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my f**king gosh. Scoop up the boy and try to calm down that SCREAM. He hurt so bad he was kicking me because he didn't know what else to do. It took atleast 10 minutes before it passed.

I called everybody and sent pictures and shook with tears & guilt, while everyone assured me these things will happen. He got a nice big shiner on his eye and I'm pretty sure passerbyers are calling CPS on me.

Now the whole house looks like DANGER to me. Everything, even the walls, that are just sitting there. My little baby boy loves to climb things and throw himself into things and fall down on sharp things and it's freaking me out.

Dax's first shiner

I'm not quite sure how my mom did it. I broke everything as a kid--my leg, my collar bone (both of them on separate occasions), and my teeth (more than a few times I broke my face on steel handlebars and hills of frozen ice). My bro and sis? Sustained almost no injuries, and definitely no broken bones. Did my son inherit my risky, broken-bone prone playstyle? So far, it sure seems so...sigh...it's gunna be a long road to college.