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.)