One moment captured

Winter's blossoms

2012-01-03T18:37:00.000-08:00

Happy 6 months Lew

2011-11-12T07:44:00.000-08:00

My dear beautiful daughter,

You are 6 months old now and I don't even have to say it, do I? Half a year already? Really?! And you are cruising right along, my dear. Speeding past milestones and racing head long towards your brother. You've been crawling (and I use the term lightly. It's forward motion that involves hands, knees, feet, belly and, sometimes, your face) for about a month now. It's still shocking to put you on the floor, leave the room for just a few, quick moments and come back to find you on the other side of that room desperately trying to squeeze your head under the couch. There must be some really great toys under there. Or fabulously gross dust bunnies - equally, if not more appealing. But you move the fastest for Asa. My goodness, how you love him. You can see it in your eyes, this focused intent and intense adoration. As soon as his little voice is audible, your head turns, your ears perk and you track the sound. Target spotted, you gear up. Flipping over from your back to belly in one quick and awkward swoop, eyes still locked on your goal, you start to move. It's a crawling-scampering-drag of the body, you might say, complete with huge grunts of effort and sighs of exasperation. Closer and closer you squirm, wiggling and hopping and struggling the whole long way across the carpet. Then right there, right at the very point of your destination, right when you're about to grab a glorious fistful of Asa's hair....he snatches his head back and won't let you have it. It's momentarily heart breaking and I think you might cry, what with your tiny hopes so quickly dashed and all. But you are fine. A small smile passes your lips and you start again, head down, butt up, body moving ever towards its target.

You are hungry as can be and grab at any food that passes by you (though the only thing you actually eaten is banana and rice cereal). You took to eating very fast and you happily gobble up spoonful after spoonful of whatever is offered. I think if you had it your way you’d eat a lot more solid foods, but for now it’s just one, sometimes two servings a day. Don’t worry love, there’s more to some!

You have started making the most interesting sounds I may have every heard. Truly little one, it is weird. It's hard to describe accurately, so I will have to record it soon for posterity, but I'd say it's akin to a cat yowling or a small dog growling. No really. And you do it mostly when you're excited. You love it when we hoist your little body up into the air, a tiny toss over the head. It's on the way down, when I imagine that feeling of falling hits your belly like butterflies, that your strange little call bursts out. "Yaawwwooarrrw!" Or something close to that. Followed by a tiny snort that is almost a giggle. Sometimes Asa and his best friend Harper will "talk" to you by imitating the sound back to you. Of course, being 2.5 year olds, this is best done inches from your face and at very high volume. And you love it. You smile that mouth wide open, cheek splitting smile and yowl right back at them. It really is the best sound in the world. Strange and grunty and unrefined, it is the sound of absolute joy. I like to think of it sort of as a talking/laughing/growl thing. One to get attention and express your joy. I will definitely miss it when it's gone.

We’ve moved you out of the bed and into the Pak n Play right next to us. So far it’s been a pretty seamless transition and you seem to like your little bed. We usually swaddle you at night, but you’re already strong enough to wiggle out rather quickly. You’ve even managed to flip yourself over a few times, which seems difficult and uncomfortable, but for the most part you sleep quietly on your back, tightly tucked in your swaddle, mouth agape and eyes twitching. Really, your nighttime sleep is pretty awesome with 4 – 6 hour stretches between feedings. It’s the daytime naps that are a little rougher. You just don’t want to sleep for more than 30, maybe 40 minutes at a time. You’ll fall asleep easily enough, but up you pop, sometimes just 20 minutes later, ready for more action. I suspect you hear your brother (despite the music we play at a slightly higher than is necessary volume in your room) and don’t want to miss out on the fun. Sometimes when you seem fast asleep, dead to the world in that serious konked out baby sleep, he’ll some walking through the room talking or laughing or playing some noisy toy and POP! There they are, gorgeous grey eyes wide open and ready with a big ‘ol smile to match.

You know something else amazing about you? You always wake up happy. Every. Single. Time. For real! It's astounding to me, especially after Asa whom I'm pretty sure has never once woken up anything but gah-rum-py! After every nap, every doze, every long night-time stretch you wake with the biggest smile your tiny face can manage. You pack so much smile into those little features - your mouth open wide, stretched at the corners even, cracked open with joy. Your eyes and nose crinkle in the massive smile, your ears even push up, accenting that gorgeous grin. It is just awesome. Even when you're sick (which you have been for the past week or so. Nothing bad, just your first, lingering cold) you wake smiling. I'll hear you start to cough in the middle of the night. It's that awful baby cough too, tiny and terrible. Just the sound of it makes me feel bad for you, let alone the way your little body heaves with the hacking or the bright red spots that dot your eyes after a particularly rough bout. I scramble quickly to the Pak n' Play at the foot of the bed, expecting every time to see a sad, crying baby who needs to be picked up and helped and rocked and eased back to sleep. But no, it's my Lew, my happy little girl with a smile bigger than her own little self. As soon as I peek my head over the lip of that crib, there it is, that fantastic smile, cracking right across your face and lighting up your eyes. It hits me like a ton of happy bricks, this brilliant smack in the face. It makes me happy to see it, every time. (It also makes it a whole lot harder to be mad about getting up at a million o'clock AGAIN.)

You are such a bright spark of joy in our lives Lew, how could we have ever done this without you? After only 6 months it is absolutely impossible to imagine our lives any other way. You are here now and somehow it's like you always were. Your laugh is new, but so very familiar. Your big brother is proud and protective, eager to play with you and happy to scramble around the living room floor with you. You are a grey eyed, bald headed, big eared beauty. You are willful and loud and almost always smiling. You are daughter, sister, granddaughter, cousin and niece. Lew, Lew-Lew, Llewella you are a perfect fit to our quirky little family. I am so glad you are here.

Love,

Mama

Halloween

2011-11-01T09:20:00.000-07:00

Asa's friend

2011-08-16T19:56:00.000-07:00

Summer sunshine

2011-08-14T08:15:00.000-07:00

Green beans galore

2011-08-13T07:45:00.000-07:00

Llewella 3 months

2011-08-12T10:06:00.000-07:00

Dear Llewella,

You are nearly three months old now and writing those words down can't make me believe it. Three months, really?! I feel like you've only just slipped into our lives, ingratiated your little self right into our hearts only moments ago. Weren't you just born? Wait, wasn’t I just pregnant?!

You are speeding through your milestones, wasting no time whatsoever. What are you in such a hurry for, love? You are holding your head up frighteningly well. We lay you on your tummy - first in your little baby sleeper up on the kitchen table (which, I assure you, was actually the safest place in the house these days, despite being 3 feet off the ground) and now in the pack n’ play that takes up 30% of our teeny, tiny living room) and POP! Your adorable little head shoots right up and turns around, surveying the scene. Your crane left, stretch right and smile a little wobbly smile before plunking back down for a short break. Five or ten seconds later its POP! and you're up again.

You've been smiling for a little while now and there are few things in this world that bring such joy. When you wake up we turn you over (you are almost always sleeping on your stomach these days) and your sleepy eyes start to roll around, blinking open in the light. A few moments to focus is all it takes, and there it is, a huge, cheek splitting smile cracks. Your mouth opens as wide as possible, your little pert nose crinkles up and the skin around your eyes wrinkles - your whole face is smiling. The biggest possible smile erupts onto your little face and it breaks my heart into a thousand happy pieces.

You're also seen fit to roll over already. You crazy girl. And it happened about four weeks ago now! We had family visiting from out of town - I guess you wanted a bit of an audience. Your great-auntie TiTi was holding you, happily bouncing you around the house as cousins played, uncles grilled and grandma (also a great-grandma) basked in the happy family glow. We placed you on your tummy in the middle of the bed and watched you start. First that head came popping back up - you looked around, smiled back at the smiling faces surrounding you, then dropped that head back down. Up came those little knees, toes digging into sheets and push, push, pushing away. You struggled with it, turning and twisting from side to side, those little legs kicking out the whole time. And you caught it, you found the right hold, your body was there. One more little push and your tumbled right on over, landing on your back with an ear splitting smile to the applause of your doting family. Way to go little one!

We call you Lew these days, or Lew-Lew. Asa and his friends all call you Baby Lew-Lew, as if you needed that distinction. You are a fantastic nurser (and I must attribute at least some of that to my own second time around breast-feeding skills), eating every 3-4 hours during the day with a much longer stretch at night. You sleep wonderfully. At night. During the day there's little cat naps, but nothing lasting more than an hour, occasionally two. But when night time rolls around you are ready. We do out last feeding around 10 or 11, about the time of day I can no longer keep my eyes open. You happily devour your fill and then get all swaddled up or fall asleep on my chest. It's one or the other these days. You usually sleep part of the night swaddled up next to me, and the other part sleeping right on top of me, curled on my chest. It's not always the best sleep for me, but it's some sort of sleep, and it keeps you happy for much longer. Doing it this way we only wake up once in the night to feed, usually around 3 or 4, and then slip right back into sleep until your brother wakes around 6:30. Its really quite lovely, and the feel of your warm, tiny body against mine is delicious.

Asa loves you dearly and to be witness to that love is a joy greater than any other. He comes upt o you many times a day, pets the back of his hand against your head and coos “aww, lewlew. So tiny!” before bouncing back on his way. You are the first person he checks for when entering a room and the last person he kisses to bed at night. When you cry, Asa often drops what he’s doing (literally) and dashes to your side. He grabs your hand, strokes your head and puts his cheek against yours. “No cry Lewlew, Asa here” and, even though the sound of an infant crying at that decibel is mind-numbingly shrill, his attention to you is absolutely precious and I live for those moments.

Thank you for completing the circle.

Love,

Mom

With a little help from Rumi and Hafiz

2011-08-04T10:04:00.000-07:00

Anniversary

2011-07-29T09:06:00.000-07:00

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.

But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:

To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.

To know the pain of too much tenderness.

To be wounded by your own understanding of love;

And to bleed willingly and joyfully.

To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;

To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;

To return home at eventide with gratitude;

And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.
-Kahlil Gibran, on love

Today. Tomorrow. Forever.
I love you.

Llewella

2011-06-05T19:53:00.000-07:00

My dearest Daughter,

Just three days ago you came into this world, and my life changed forever. That was the day I realized there was no limit to my love. There are no borders, no confines to restrict the fierce affection that courses through me. The walls of my heart encompass only that, my heart, not my love. There are no walls, no boundaries to restrain my feelings. Just because I love your brother with all of my being doesn't mean that I can't expand again and love you too, with every ounce of my self. It's almost funny now that I was afraid of that. I was afraid of figuring out how I would fit more love into my life, afraid that there was no way I could love anyone or anything else like I love your brother. And then I met you, and you proved me wrong.

This is how you made your debut:

It was the morning of your due date, May 11 and I had yet another doctor's appointment. We all thought that maybe you'd come a little early, so when week 40 rolled around I was done, done, done with being pregnant. My back ached, the belly hurt and I simply could wait no longer to meet you. At the office I was dilated 2cm - not much, but more than anything the previous visits had revealed. I was hopeful and let the tiniest bit of excitement slip into my consciousness. You were coming - maybe not that day, but soon!

Easy but timeable contractions started shortly after that 10AM visit. There was nothing really intense about them, in fact the only difference between those contractions and the 25-50 Braxton Hicks contractions I had been having per day for weeks prior was that they were somewhat regular. I'd glance at my cell phone every time I felt that wave of tightness start in my lower abdomen, careful not to let myself think that I was actually timing them yet - I didn't want to get ahead of myself. 11:37, 11:48, 11:56, 12:05 - these contractions were about 10 minutes apart!

So we got your big brother dressed and we all headed out. It was a beautiful, sunny day and Lithia Park was gorgeous. Spring had filled in the trees, new green leafs flickered like tiny flames on every tree. Rhododendrons so red and so pink, they could have been painted into the scenery. Your dad played with Asa, climbing up the ladders and tumbling down the slides, while I walked and and rubbed my belly, thinking of you. I paced through the trees, keeping track of the rolling waves and talking to you. Hello baby, I thought aloud, when are you coming? Do you feel these contractions too? Are you as ready as I am? We walked and walked, up the paths and down, stopping each time we passed the playground to laugh a bit with the boys, watch your brother shimmy belly first down the twisty slide and kiss your dad as we made another lap around the park.

The walking really seemed to help. The more I walked the more intense the contractions became. Nothing too strong, mind you, just more than they had been. I could still talk and think and move about regularly. These were the easy breezy contractions that I could only barely believe were the real thing. And just about the time when I was ready to believe that this was it, this was labor, this was the day you would come into the world, this was the time....they stopped. We got home from our laps around the park and I promptly laid down. All that walking really took it out of me and I was ready for a nap. And with that nap the contractions slowed and slowed until they stopped all together. I was disappointed and even sad - I really thought we were there. I tried not to dwell on it though, tried to remain positive and tried to get some sleep.

Turns out, that was a good idea. Around 10pm those pulsing waves started again. They began up high, above my belly button, and squeezed through my abdomen all the way to the very base of me. Rhythmic and strong, these were contractions. I knew I should rest, so I stayed in bed, trying desperately to find a position that allowed me to breathe through the contractions and relax between them. I slept, off and on, for the next few hours. These contractions were the real deal, to be sure, but still not so strong that I couldn't focus through them or sleep between.

Until 1am. That's when things started rocking and rolling. I woke your dad up and let him know it was time to start keeping track of these suckers. We found a website that was devoted solely to contraction counting and began timing. Three minutes apart? Really? That can't be right, I said, lets try the next one. Two and a half minutes. Three minutes. Two minutes. Really? REALLY? These waves shot through my body and took over my whole being while passing, but I was still standing, still pacing, still breathing right through them. Surely they couldn't be this close, surely there was a mistake in the counting. Your dad suggested we call Jani, our doctor, but I said no, it's too early, lets just keep timing these and make sure we're accurate.

By 3AM they were a minute and a half apart and we had been timing them for more than an hour - they actually were that close. I paced our tiny house, walking in circles through the dark living room, into the dimly lit kitchen and down the hall past our bedroom. Each time I lapped by your brother's door I heard his soft night time music playing and resisted the urge to run in and pick him up, to hold him to me and say you're going to be a big brother soon, the baby is coming, the baby is coming! Instead I would brace myself against the wall, or the arm of the couch or the kitchen counter - whatever happened to be nearest. Your dad would rush to my side and push, hard, on my lower back. Just the perfect spot to counter the enormous amount of pressure in my belly. Each time I was amazed at how much that actually helped.

By 3:15 I was finally convinced it was time to call. I dialed the office, got the midnight answering service and waited to wake up Jani in the middle of the night. When her sleepy voice asked how far apart the contractions were I hesitantly said, about a minute and a half? As if it were a question. But it doesn't feel like the contractions are strong enough to be that close together, I told her, and I really don't want to get there too early. She said she thought we should come on in and, as another wave, more intense than anything yet, ripped though me, I conceded. It was time to call your grandmother, get her to come stay with your brother and head to the hospital to meet you.

It took grandma no more than 15 minutes to get here. She had had her bag packed for weeks and was more than ready to rush over here at the drop of a hat. Somehow those 15 minutes stretched on forever. I had 6 or 7 contractions in that time, each stronger, more insistent than the last. I paced the living room, stopping to lean on the couch and breathe, breathe, breathe through those waves and looking out the window for the lights of her truck in between each one. Finally the road lit up and the rumble of the engine stopped right outside. She was here. Time to get in the car and drive.

I quickly stopped in your brother's room, kissed his head and told him how much I loved him, promised him I'd bring him home a healthy, happy baby to be a big brother to and closed his door again. I hugged my mom, paused for another pulsing wave and strapped myself in the passenger seat. This was it. We were finally here, driving to the hospital in the middle of the night, ready to bring you into the world.

We arrived in the ER at 4am (the same time, as it so happens, that we arrived at the hospital for your brother's birth. The day after your due date, just like Asa). They were ready for us, but we still had to wait a few moments for the OB nurse to come and lead us to the right place. Angus says it was less that two minutes that we stood in that sterile grey hallway waiting for someone to come show us the way. if you asked me, I'd say it was infinitely longer. I think I had two contractions during that time, each one rocketed through my body, quickly spreading that wave of tightness through my belly, my back, my entire being.

Once in our room we had a quick ride on the fetal monitor to make sure everything was ok. I could hear the metallic whah-whah, whah-whah whirring of your heart beat and it was soothing. It sped up during contractions, slowed down in between. These contractions were the strongest yet. I thought about my breath and sighed hard into the height of each wave, and relaxed into it as much as I could. Being on my back, on a table was about the least comfortable position I could imagine. I was (and still am) surprised at just how striking that was to me this time. It never really occurred to me the first time - it was all new and uncomfortable. But this time around I was acutely aware of the awkwardness of that position. I felt like a turtle on it's shell, struggling through the most most intense sensations a body has ever met, trying to relax, breathe and stay comfortable. After just a few minutes though our wonderful nurse, Tasia, said that we'd monitored enough. Every thing was perfect and it was time to get in the tub.

The room was dimly lit, some sort of innocuous soft music gently coursed through the speakers and the water was warm and waiting. The second my body touched down I felt relief. Absolutely instantaneous. My whole body was lighter, my whole self freer somehow, eased and supported. I leaned my shoulders and upper body over the edge of the tub and placed my knees at the bottom, bringing the water level chest height. The next contraction threatened to split me in two, but something else took over at this point. Some sort of awesome feminine power that couldn't be explained, only experienced. Some sort of primal magic, otherworldly strength kicks in and lets you ride it till the end. Two more impossible waves crashed through me and I breathed heavy, moaned right into the crest and kept on swimming. With the next I felt nothing but the need to push, like that's all my body could possibly do at that moment in time. And push I did. Just once. Once! I felt your head moving through my body and I knew you were nearly here. Without thinking, I reached down and greeted your tiny head with my own hands. What a moment. I freeze it for a second in my head, remembering just what it was like to be the first hands on your body, the first human contact in this world. I love that. Jani was there just in time to reach in the tub herself and help to bring your slippery self up to my chest. And there you were. Wet and warm and quiet. I held you there, you and I floating in our tub and you opened your eyes, slowly looked around, blinked against the lights and took your very first breaths. You didn't even cry love, you just let it all wash over you, you just took it all in. Silent and alert, you greeted your new home.

Here are a few things we have learned about you in your first three weeks of life:

This is us, just out of the tub. This is your favorite position, laying belly to belly. We sleep like this most nights, you and I. I can feel the warm weight of you, rising and falling with my breath. You start to fidget when you're ready to eat, no screaming and crying, just a little nudge to mama, telling me it's time for a snack. And then it's back to sleep for 3-4 hours.

You and dada have a similar profile and I think you will look a lot more like him.

You like your swaddle blanket, but not quite as much as your brother did. You like to be warm and cozy against someone - and really, who wouldn't?

Your brother loves you very, very much. You are the first thing he looks for when he enters a room "Lew-lew?" he asks, making sure you are near. Each morning when he comes to join us in bed he reaches out his sleepy hand and brushes your head with his fingers so very gently. "Aw," he says "so toot. " Because you are so cute.

We make a great family of four

There is nothing quite like a nap with you. There's something about holding you that just calls us to sleep. Beautiful, warm and soporific, we can't help but snuggle.

You have delicious toes...

...they even make Asa's look big!

You are quiet and peaceful. In fact, you hardly make a peep. We have not done any of the settling down and calming that we seemed to do with Asa. There's no midnight rocking or soothing jiggling and when dada sings to you it's just because he wants to, not because he's consoling you.

You make faces in your sleep and every single one of them warms my heart.

You were born a rockstar - a tiny, petite pixie of a rockstar.

You, my love, make our family complete and I cannot imagine life without you. Thank you for choosing us as your family.

2 YEARS!

2011-04-07T11:08:00.000-07:00

Dear Asa,

Sometimes I wake before you in the morning. I lay there, wiping the sleep and dreams from my eyes, trying to listen for the early waking sounds of you. Minutes pass and I am more awake. I feel the baby start to stretch and kick inside – apparently I’m not the only one ready for you to get up. As I lay there longer and longer I think of you – sweet messy curls and a sleepy grin. Warm skin and the fresh smell of the wind in your hair. Clear gray/blue eyes crystalline and alive with wonder. And then I realize it and it almost makes me laugh out loud. I miss you! You’ve been away from me for the past 8-10 hours, sleeping just in the other room, and I miss you. I can’t wait to hear your little voice calling from the other side of the wall “Mama…..mama….mama!” telling me that you are awake. I can’t wait to feel your toasty little self curl into the bed with me while we cuddle for your morning bottle. I can’t wait to have you here, to start the day and to walk through it with you.

(Telling stories with grandma)

You are very helpful these days, insistent upon lending a hand really. You love to vacuum (and now you’re big enough to hold the upright and even roll it back and forth) and doing the dishes is a big favorite too. You push your stool right up to the sink and declare it time for “dishey”. You must put on your own shoes (which takes considerable effort on both our parts. You have to balance on one leg long enough to slip a foot in and I have to get that shoe open and help you get that foot in without being seen as helping. A challenge, to be sure). You are also very helpful when it comes to my morning cup of coffee. You must be the one to pour the beans from the jar into the grinder and then you alone must push the button to start the grind. You love this part the very best – and who doesn’t? – its so loud and satisfying. You’re even pretty darn good at pouring the ground beans into the cone. So helpful love.

You’ve started to tell jokes – well, sort of. Watching and searching for spiders is one of your favorite pastimes lately. We often talk about their webs, their legs and how they can sometimes be scary. Out of the blue a couple weeks ago you came up to me, big cheek splitting grin on your face. “Mama! Mama!” you said “Spider (sounds like ‘pie-dah’), mouth!” and pointed to your mouth. It took me a second to realize that you had not, in fact, eaten a spider, you were playing a joke on me. And laughing about the brilliance of it all as you were saying it. “Spider, mouth, yuk yuk yuk!!!” and huge bouts of belly laughs to follow. Now the joke has evolved to include other body parts, all equally as funny. “Mama – spider hair!” and “Mama – spider butt!” are two of your best jokes these days.

(Your first concert)

You love your stickers and Match Box cars these days. The bottom three feet of our full length hall way mirror is plastered in stickers of every sort. You like to check them out a few times a day, pointing out your current favorites (the jackhammer and hard hats are so hot right now) and marveling over their continued greatness. The little cars are always underfoot, though you do like them to all be together more often than not. I’ll find little piles of them in the cupboards, under the couch and in the fridge. You’ve started to identify them individually now as well, they are not all simply just cars (or “hars” as it is these days). The sports cars are zoom-zooms, except for the sportiest of all which is, for some reason, the batmobile. There’s also the water truck (“lah-dah truck!”), the jeep ("deep!"), the safari truck (“hafari truck”) and, your favorite, the trash truck.

Thursdays are trash day around here, and there are few things in this world that excite you like that truck. As soon as we hear the tell tale rumbling we run for the bedroom window (it has the prime view). You have to stand on the window sill, which only protrudes from the wall about 3.5 inches, so that you have to be on your tip toes the whole time. Your body is pressed to the glass, uncaring of the cold. You don’t take your eyes off the scene for a second. You are enraptured, completely. You are absolutely silent, taking in as much detail as possible, there’s just no room for words. After its over (about 18 seconds later) the talking begins. We have to tell the story now. “Trash!” you start – which sounds more like “tur-ass”. “That’s right” is the correct response, “the trash truck was just here!” You love the enthusiasm and I can’t help it, you are just buzzing with the energy of it all. “Man!” you shout next. “Yep, there was a man in the truck” I prompt you for the next line “Drive! Seat! Wheel!” Three short bursts, pauses between these key words. “Wow!” I exclaim, “was there a man in the driver’s seat with the steering wheel?!” And you just beam. You love the back and forth, the conversation of it. It’s important to you that I repeat the words you say, like you have to know for sure that I understand what you are talking about, I’m not just faking it (like I have to do sometimes when I’m not at all sure what you’ve just said). It’s a very enthusiastic exchange and we have lots of other topics like this that we tell stories about all the time. There’s the one where Papa John mows the lawn, and the one where the spider comes down from the ceiling onto grandma’s arm. They are such special moments, these conversations, and I try to remember how important they are to you – especially when it’s the 34,876,987^th time we’ve told the story that day.

(The audience loved you...and the feeling was mutual)

Your birthday party was an absolute success. A day filled with every bit of weather imaginable - sun, wind, rain, snow, hail - all coming and going in these short and energetic bursts. Just like you. It was warm enough to play outside for awhile where you ran in circles, chased your friends, stomped in the mud and jumped on hay bales. All through these strange and quick flashes of weather. The hail really intrigued you. “Rain?” you asked “Ow, ow!” you mimed as it thunked off your head. Inside the streamers were up and the balloons floated about. There was no shortage of cupcakes, or “ca-cakes!” and when dad come around the corner with the bagpipes blaring for the singing of Happy Birthday, you lit up brighter than those candles. You were happy all day and did a great job of sharing with your friends. Your dad and I beamed the whole way through, shoulders back and chests out as we watched our big two year old son enjoy his day.

(Birthday morning baba bliss - with dada)

When I put you to bed tonight, after a big 2^nd birthday, I stayed longer than usual. “Ni-night” you said when you finished your baba. That’s usually my cue to tuck you into your crib with your favorite softy blanket. “Can I hold you?” I asked. You considered a moment, looked up, nodding you head and said “howd you” in affirmation. Warm, happy tears rolled down my cheeks as we sat there together, your tiny, growing body next to mine. I felt so privileged in that moment, so thankful you chose me to be you mom. Two years babe – two whole years of mommying. I am filled with pride, spilling over with love and just so thankful to be on this journey with you.

Thank you baby, with all of my heart.

Love,

Mom

22 Months

2011-01-31T10:07:00.000-08:00

Dear Asa,

Every time someone asks me how old you are it nearly slips out “Two,” and then I catch myself. “Well, almost two,” and then I must clarify “actually he’s just 22 months.” Just 22 months my love, and on the cusp of two.

It seems that the closer we are to that magic number, the more out of hand and unexplainable the tantrums become. They are nothing short of amazing these days – full on body contorting, screaming, kicking, flailing tantrums. Sometimes I expect it, I see it coming and I prepare. You’ve found the box of cookies and you’re sneaking to your room to consume them in private. But I caught you, and I can’t let you do that babe. So I tell you first how it’s going to happen. “Asa, you can’t have all those cookies. Please give the box to mama and I’ll share one with you.” “No” you shake your head. “Sorry buddy, that’s the way it goes” and I nab the box of contraband. First comes the yell, then your legs seem to lose all their strength and you collapse under the weight of your sorrow. You crumple to the floor, kicking and crying and the tantrum is in full swing. But other times its not so obvious. Other times it comes out of nowhere and sends us both flying. Like when I’m cleaning up the living room and come across a scrap of the newspaper that’s been torn off a page and nearly lost halfway under the couch. I grab it, crumple it up and head for the recycle bin. And just as I’m about to toss it in I see you out of the corner of my eye, body in flight as you throw yourself onto the floor in utter despair over….over what exactly I’m not sure. The moving of the scrap of paper? Was it perfectly placed? Or perhaps the throwing away? It’s always a mystery, because by the time I offer it back to you it’s too late. Way too late. Or when I peel you a banana and offer it to you. “No” you say, and shake your head. “No, thank you” I remind you and take a bite of the refused banana. And that’s when the world starts to come apart at the seems. That’s when you fall down in anguish and commence tantruming. There’s also the ‘take the shoes on or off tantrum’, the ‘moved the toy tantrum’, the ‘you closed the refrigerator door tantrum’ and, my personal favorite, the ‘I enjoyed that 15 seconds ago but now it is the worst thing in the world tantrum’.

New words tumble out of your mouth daily, though not always so clearly. So far finding and pronouncing the final consonant in a word – like the “k” in rock or the “d” in bed – is proving difficult. But put two together at the beginning of a word – like the “cl” in clock and the “tr” in truck – and you rock the heck outta those letters! You’ve also started to string a few words together, but usually backwards. It always makes me think that you’re speaking in a foreign language. Like when you pass my Steve’s littler box and have to remind us “Poo-poo yucky Steve”. Or when we’re driving down the freeway, “truck big!” I’m not sure whey you switch them around, but the point still gets across.

As much as you work on your words though, you are still more physical than verbal, preferring to work on your body and it’s ability. It’s really quite amazing my love. You’re this tiny thing, a small human with muscles and bones still growing and stretching and learning. And yet you can zoom through the obstacle course of a living room in mere seconds. You come screaming through the kitchen, dodge the stools, jump the yoga mat, avoid Steve and grab a dinosaur as you, literally, fly through the air in one leaping bound onto the couch. Where did you find the coordination for that?! And how about all these other physical capabilities – like slipping your shoes on and off, taking stairs with alternating feet, stacking blocks as tall as you, climbing ladders, kicking balls, throwing overhand, standing on one foot, spinning, somersaulting and jumping with both feet off the ground. How did you figure these things out already? It kind of blows me away. Asa, big as you may be for your age, you’re still only three feet tall and to see such athleticism from a miniature person, well, it’s almost startling. And I think it does frighten other people every now and then. They just don’t expect it, don’t see it coming. We’re just used to your acrobatics. Like when we’re playing with friends, running around someone else’s living room, playing with their toys and jumping on their furniture. And then you climb to the very back of the couch, the highest point in sight, and jump, with a tumbling roll, onto the carpet. Several parents leap to catch you, to help you recover, only to find you grinning from ear to ear. Or at the park when you eye the slide, tuck your head down and run right for it. You shimmy up the end and climb the whole way up the slide before you do a quick about face and throw yourself back down. It all happens so quick, you’re usually back on the ground and on to the next before there’s time to consider anything else.

Lately one of your favorite things to do it to stand on your dad’s back while he does yoga and balance there. I don’t know what made you think of it, but it’s just tops in your book. You stand up there as long as you can while your dad moves about. Sometimes you purposefully bail out, kicking your feet forward and thumping down onto your butt right on your dad’s shoulders. Sometimes you try to stand on one foot up there (with little success thus far) and sometimes you just leap off all together. You love it up there though and often proclaim that you are “Biiiiiiiiiiiiiiig” while you stand up tall.

You love your shoes these days. Any of them really. And you often refuse to take them off when we get home. Or you insist on having them on while running around the house. You still like your hats too, especially trying on different ones and checking them out individually in the full length mirror.

My favorite time of the day is first thing in the morning. I hear you call from your room “Mama! Dada! Maaaamaaaaa!” and I heave my ever-rounding self out of bed. I heat up your morning baba and bring it with me as I open the door to your room. As soon as the crack of lights breaks in I see you grin. You’re standing up, hands on the rail or your crib. The smile spreads and you jump with excitement. We open your curtains to determine if its light or dark (usually dark) and switch your nighttime music off (Deep Breakfast by Ray Lynch). I carry you down the hall and plop you onto our bed. Then the three of us tuck in and snuggle while you finish your morning baba. We talk about the day and ask you what your dreams were. We hide under blankets and laugh in the semi-darkness. Its warm and cozy, sleepy and lovey and an absolutely perfect start to the day.

Love,

Mom

Frozen fog

2011-01-23T08:45:00.000-08:00

From a few weeks ago now, but still just as chilly...

"it's Asa!"

2011-01-02T09:39:00.000-08:00

(Please try to ignore the messy bedroom behind the ridiculously cute kid.)

21 months

2011-01-01T17:25:00.000-08:00

Dear Asa,

Two days after your second Christmas you turned twenty-one months old. Wow, that’s a mouthful. It's a little awkward telling people your age now. It just doesn't roll off the tongue. But 21 months you are and every bit of it, it seems.

We've been going to dance class pretty regularly now and it's been amazing to watch your progress. The first few classes you had fun, but were certainly not interested in following directions and doing what everyone else was doing. It made the class a bit challenging for me, but I'm so glad we stuck with it. Now you've got the routine down (though sometimes you decide not to follow it anyway). When we get to class you help Miss Cassie get the mats out and we all do our stretches together. You're working really hard at standing on one foot these days, and your concentration is adorable. You love the dances that involve jumping and running and you manage to incorporate them in the dances that don't. You're still not a big fan of the holding hands part, where all the parents and kids hold hands in a circle and dance together. Usually at this point you break from the circle, stand a few feet away and do your own little solo dance. It works out fine, and really is pretty cute. It's always so shocking to watch you, a boy, in sharp contrast to the little girls that are in class with you. Before having kids I would have called such a statement sexist. At least a little bit. But my goodness Asa, you are a boy if ever there was one! And nowhere is it illustrated better than in dance calss. You jump and stomp and growl loudly through each dance, you sprint from side to side, throwing yourself onto the floor dramatically for the finale. There is nothing delicate or soft there at dance, no slow twirling or fluttering of scarves. You grunt and whip around the room, laughing and yelling the whole way. Now, of course there are girls of this nature too, and boys that are contrary. I don't mean to pigeonhole you already babe. But there are other times too where the boy just shines through, with traits and attributes that you seem to have learned innately. Like crashing noises. Who taught you that? Who taught you to take your dump truck and ram it into another truck over and over again while saying "boom! Bang! Boom!"? It must be born into boys. At least, this boy.

The biggest development this month is a huge one babe - HUGE! We are the very proud parents of a little boy who pees on the dunny! Amazing. I never in my life thought that I would be so excited, so enthused by bodily functions. Pee in the potty is glorious and, at least at these early stages, very exciting for everyone involved. We shout and clap and dance for joy when you flush and we wave bye-bye to the peepee. We talk about it all the time and you are quite proud. In fact, you are really quite keen to show anyone willing to watch that you can pee in the dunny. And I have no problem inviting whomever happens to be over to the bathroom with us to help in our pee adventures. Don’t worry, there won’t be any (much) more bathroom talk in your letters, but it’s such a milestone, I had to mention it.

Your second Christmas has come and gone and it certainly was a lot different from the first. You loved opening gifts, though you were much more fastidious about the whole affair than I thought you'd be. Given your general energy and exuberance, I thought you'd tear mercilessly into those packages, ripping and shredding to your heart's content. But it was quite the opposite. When we handed you the first package of Christmas morning, you held it in your hands a while, turning it over and over to examine it. I started a small tear at the back and you took over from there. Ever so delicately, using only thumb and index fingers, you gently tore one, long strip of colored paper from the package. When that strip went all the way around and came off, you started another. And then another and another until you had unraveled enough of it for the sweater to fall out. You were eager to start the next one, so we plopped another in your lap. Surely this time you'd just rip it to pieces I thought. But no. It was the same slow and meticulous process with each and every present that morning, even when you helped us with our own gifts. It was a nice, leisurely morning of present unraveling and I enjoyed it thoroughly.

Your favorite show these days is The Busy World of Richard Scarry and I love this because the books were favorites of both your dad and I when we were little. And as much as you love your shows, books are still first place and I really like this. You often walk through the house, looking for your dad or I saying "Bok, bok, weeeeed, weeeed!” Because you’d like someone to read you the book in your hand. You'll take one of us (or often both) by the hand and pull us to the ground, wherever we may be standing. You hand us the book, instructing us to "weed, weed!" and we do just that. Your favorite book right now is one you got for Christmas called "I'm a Big Brother" and you like to point to the older boy in the pictures saying "bud-der, bud-der" declaring that he is the big brother. Sometimes you point to him and call him Asa too. I love that this connection is taking place, and I often wonder just how much of it makes sense to you. You are very curious about all things baby these days, though you still think anyone under 3 feet tall is a baby. I’m glad there’s still months to work up to the real thing.

Your vocabulary grows daily, but what astounds me more is your understanding of what is said to you. Of course we talk to you all the time, explaining what we're doing or what we'd like you to do. It's just a sort of habit now, something we do without thinking. And recently it has become very obvious that you hear every word of it and understand most of it. Like just a few days ago with the stickers. You had a sheet with 20 or so different brightly colored stickers and you loved them. I showed you that they came off the page and stuck to things. Excitement bloomed on your face - these super cool things just got cooler! You delicately picked one off and tried to stick it to the floor. Only the sticky side was affixed to your finger, so no matter how much pushing you did, the sticker remained on your finger. Frustration was quick to follow. You managed to free yourself of that sticker and started another. This one you tried to stick to the wall instead, but with the same miserable outcome. A tantrum was near, I could feel it coming like a storm (a storm that hits 86 times a day and is best avoided, if possible). So I just explained it to you. It's worth a shot, right? "Asa, you have to take the sticker off your finger and turn it over so the sticky side is down, then it will stay where you put it." It was just automatic, explaining another new discovery and trying to avoid catastrophe. You tilted your head up at me, examined your finger, sticker still sticking and gently plucked it off with the other hand. You grabbed the edges, managed to flip it over and stuck that sucker right on the hallway mirror. Success! The look you gave me won't quickly be forgotten. Your whole body seemed to say "Mama I did it! I did it!" The pride that bloomed in your eyes was utterly touching and I teared right up. It was a tiny micro moment to be remembered.

Beets seem to be your new favorite food these days and I’m happy to feed them to you as often as you like. There's also a lot of dried fruit being consumed these days and little Mandarin oranges too. You love to look at yourself in pictures and declare "It's Asa!" and point to your self with a great, big smile. The syllables of ‘it's Asa’ sliding into one another sound more like "it Zah-Zah" which only makes it all the better. You love to have a sip of my tea once it's cool enough, but can't say "hooooot hoooooot" enough, as if both checking to see and letting me know that this is indeed hot. Farts make you laugh now (thanks solely to your father) and your puzzles have suddenly become your very favorite toy. You say please (when prompted) and thank you (also when prompted) and there are few things that will get you further in this house. To see your amazing little face looking up at mine, eyes begging, and hear those magical words come out is all but irresistible. For now anyway…

Love,

Mom

19 and 20 months

2010-11-27T09:59:00.000-08:00

These past two months have been pretty amazing lovey. This transition into childhood is amazing. To watch every subtle, daily change is sometimes hard and I seem to miss stuff. It's so gradual sometimes. But some things are big and happen - boom! Like one morning last month when you woke up (around 5 am, pre dawn) and said “daaaaark, daaark” Just in case I didn’t notice that the sun had yet to rise. When we got out to the living room and turned on the light you said “liiiiight, ouch ouch ouch eyes” and I think it’s the closest thing to a sentence that I have heard from you yet.

My new favorite thing to watch you do is pretend. This must be some sort of big milestone, because it's pretty amazing to me. The fact that you can think beyond the literal, make up things that you know are pretend - that is just so mind blowing for me. What a concept. Its only happen twice now that I've seen. Once was just the other day. You were playing with one of your beloved tractors up on our bed. We have a big headboard that sort of slopes down to each side. You had your tractor up one top, moving it down the slop over and over again. Then your little face lit up with joy when you turned around and said "sliiiiiiiiiiiide! Sliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide!" Only it sounded a little more like Daffy Duck since your S's, W's and L’s sound like a wet and slobbery raspberry. It was a great little moment. To see you starting to use your imagination and to see your absolute joy in realizing you had stumbled onto something so cool. It's one that will stick with me a while. I also caught you trying to feed raisins to a photo of your dad and I. This was pretty cute too. You'd lift the tiny dried fruit to the picture, place it right on one of our mouths and make smack-smack eating noises while saying "Mmmmmm mama, mmmmmm dada" That was pretty sweet too babe.

And now? Now there's another one on the way. You're going to be a big brother my love. Amazing. But you know what? I can't help but feel this little aching sadness. Just a little. You don't get it, the baby thing, you're just a bit too young still. We tell you all the time, and you'll pat my belly to say "baaaaby, baaaaby" but it's all rather abstract. I can't help but feel that it takes me a little farther away from you. Preparing for life with a second child, it requires thinking about all the things that are no longer yours. Like your dad and I. We're not going to be just yours anymore, you'll have to share. And that's pretty much an earth shattering, life changing reality. Baby, your whole world is going to be turned upside down. And I can't even warn you. Lately at bed time I've held you just a little longer, squeezed you just a bit tighter. Right now, and for the next 6 months or so, I am all yours. For now.

You know what it feels like? It sorta feels like I'm cheating on you. Like I’ve taken another love. Like its wrong for me to love another child this much - and he/she's not even here yet! As my belly grows it pushes you off my lap. There's less and less space for you here. And soon this belly's going to take up more than my lap. Oh my love, why is my inclination to apologize to you? I feel like I should day I’m sorry, I’m sorry your world will never be the same, I’m sorry you don’t get my undivided attention for ever, I’m sorry you’ll have to share your parent’s love.

And by that same turn - I would not feel right if you were an only child. I would feel I was cheating you then too. Cheating you out of the childhood your dad and I got to have, with siblings. I think it's so important to have other little people to explore with, get in trouble with, fight with, learn with, love with and adventure with. I want very, very much for you to have that, I feel that it is a gift, an unparalleled experience that my children will get to have. Now, remind me of that when I'm refereeing between you and said younger sibling day in and day out.

Yesterday you climbed up onto my bed, where I was sitting folding clothes and laid yourself right in my lap. You looked up at me, put your arms together to cradle a baby and make the sign and said "Baby? Baby?" Just like you wanted me to hold you like a baby. I cried and tried to hold you. But the moment had passed (for you) and you wanted to wrestle instead.

One of your new words lately is "stuck". And now, everything is stuck. You'll stick your arm into the cushions of the couch and shout (with a little smile) "tuuuuuuuck! Mama tuuuuuuuuuuck!" Until I come and un-stick you. You also shout stuck when you can't reach something (obviously that banana is stuck up on the counter) or when it's too heavy to lift (that big rock is certainly stuck on the ground). You also let me know you're stuck when I'm getting you dressed and your little toes have yet to push through the end of the pant leg - "tuuuuuuuck!" obviously. You're fingers tend to get similarly stuck in the sleeves. You also shout stuck when you are, indeed, stuck. And a little bit like the boy who cried wolf, this happened last week. I was in your room, going through your clothes and packing away (again!) all the pieces that no longer fit. I heard you in the living room, with your toys, banging tractors around and making "vrroooom, vrroooooom, vroooom!" noises. And then it came, "Tuuuuuuuck! Tuuuuuuuck!" I laughed in the other room, but stayed put. I had already rescued you from the couch, underneath the carpet and behind the plant. I was done with the pretend unsticking for the moment and I thought you'd get bored with the waiting and extricate yourself. But the call kept coming, and soon I could hear the high pitch of panic in there. That's when I cursed myself and not listening and ran into the other room. And there you were at the dining room table, sitting backwards on a chair, with your foot very much stuck in the slats of the back. Stuck you were. It must have taken some forcing to get your big 'ol foot of yours through a 4 or 5 inch space, but you'll do a lot to be stuck.

Sometimes, when you’re being a bit too rough with the plants, or Steve or something similar, we’ll ask you to be gentle. “Gentle Asa,” we remind you. “Dentle” you repeat, and then kiss whatever it was you were not treating so nicely. I think it’s rather funny that this makes it all better and is gentle to you. Every single time too. I’ll catch you tugging on Steve’s tail and quickly ask you to stop and be gentle. Without hesitation you’ll lean right down and plant a big, wet kiss right on Steve’s back, plenty of hair coming back up with you, suck to your lips and nose. You’ll keep your eyes on me while you do this, looking out for approval, making sure you’re doing it right and that the kiss has rectified the offence. A kiss, huh? I wonder how long that’ll last. I kinda hope it’s a while.

You really enjoy hard boiled eggs lately (which you call, simply "Eeeeees") and also little Clementine oranges. You’ve started to say your own name recently and it sounds exactly like you’re saying “Zsa-Zsa”, as in Gabor. This never fails to get a smile. You love eating with grown up forks, getting to walk down the street holding hands (instead of being strapped in the stroller) and you absolutely love to go through familiar pictures and name each person as you recognize their face. “Mama!” you shout, and “Dada! Mimi (for Marleigh) and all your friends too. “Parper” for Harper and “Tahdo” for Tahvo. Abby is “Babby” and Naia is the default for every baby you don’t remember the name of. It’s great to see you enjoy your friends babe. It’s great to watch your world expand and grow everyday. It includes new people, new experiences, new boundaries and horizons. Every day the world grows with you, just that much more waiting to be discovered by you.

Love,

Mom

Samantha and David's wedding

2010-10-27T07:16:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time on a beautiful summer day in Portland two people loved each other very much... and I was lucky enough to be there snap-snapping away. Enjoy a few pics from their special day...

Wishing many blissful years to the happy couple!

ONE AND A HALF!

2010-09-30T17:03:00.000-07:00

Dear Asa,

We just went to your 18 month well visit and you, my friend, are a big kid! In the 100th percentile for weight and height (at 30 lbs and 34 inches) you're tipping the scales and the charts. Of course I could of told the doc just as well that you are back-breakingly big. Size 7 kicks and a big 2T in the wardrobe, you have left your baby clothes far behind. Now you wear sneakers that lace up and jeans that have tiny worn holes in the knee. You have a rats nest of bed-hair smack dab in back of your head every morning and you still want your blanket when you go to bed every night.

(Running to your beloved tractor)

You've been saying "bye" for a while now but "hi" finally made it into the mix this month. Before "hi" you used "bye" as a greeting, though it wasn't always obvious to other people. As soon as someone would walk in the door (or catch your eye walking down the isle at the store, or pass you on the sidewalk, or...) you wave right at them, loudly shouting "bye!" as if to say "leave!". Very rude indeed. "Bye" still seems to be favored, but "hi" gets in there now and again. Especially, for some reason to inanimate objects like rocks and garden gnomes. "Hiiiiii! Hiiiii!"

(Surveying the scene from the tractor)

"No" is another word that's been changing. You've said no for a while now (of course you have) but now it's got a little drama to it. If you drop your apple or trip or something of the like you throw your hands up and shout "Oh noooooooooo!!!" with all the theatrical exuberance you can muster. I still makes me laugh every time.

("Let's get this thing moving!")

We moved into a new home this month, and you didn't even skip a beat. You love it, and so do we. The yard out back has already provided hours and hours of entertainment. One of your favorite things to do these days is walk out into the garden and pick tomatoes off the vine. You shovel them into your mouth, seeds and juice dripping down your cheeks. Delicious and fun. As funny as it may sound, your favorite room in the house is the basement. But the reason why is obvious. Drum kit. The previous tenants couldn't pack it with them and when they asked if it'd be ok to store it in the basement it was just too perfect. We left it set up down there and you take yourself for a few practices a day. Your uncle Dalbo would be very proud.

("Vroom, vroom!")

Separation anxiety and frustrations also played a big roll this month. It was... challenging, to say the least. And continues to be. We're at this strange point where Independence, defiance and fear seem to mix in with new intelligence, added energy and a little extra defiance for good measure. That is to say, you fight me on nearly everything these days, but just for the sake of fighting. Changing diapers, or clothes, getting into the car, sitting in that cart at the grocery store, holding my hand while walking down the sidewalk, riding in your stroller, eating, baths. The list really could go on and on. You fight it all. And whats interesting is that in the midst of all this fighting me, resisting me and anger towards me, you want me and only me. All. The. Time. "Mama, mama, my mama, MY MAMA!" you shout over and over and over. I hear it from the shower, the kitchen, the car as I'm pulling out of the driveway to take a 3 minute vacation to the grocery store. It's pretty incredible. Sometimes you're worked up about it when I'm still there. Like you're just sure I'm going to leave. At dance class last week (that's a parent-toddler class, I'm there the whole time, running, jumping and twisting with you) you were nearly in tears the whole time. Holding my hand or in my arms, watery eyes searching wildly with "mama, mama, mama?!" 's every few minutes. Maybe it was the other kids and parents making you nervous? Or maybe you thought I was going to go? Whatever the case, it was tough. But we're heading back next week to give it another go. It's new for both of us love, this (mutual) defiance and frustration, and we'll figure it out as we go.

(Roger takes you for your first tractor ride)

Your favorite thing to eat these days is pasta. Any type of noodle really, so long as it has red sauce on it. Much like your aunt Marleigh though you much prefer your grandma's putenesca sauce. You'll eat three helpings or more of that one! You feed yourself totally on your own, aside from the occasional accepted spoonful from mom or dad's plate. You jump now, two feet of the ground and it pleases you to no end. You ask for your dad when he goes away and you prefer to sort of growl your favorite words, especially tractor. . You love your Eric Carle books with all the different animals and you love to watch birds ("boods") fly past our new big living room window. You are a bit more boyish, a little more big-kid every, single day. Sometimes I turn around and catch a glimmer in your eye, a smirk on your cheek and I see the man you will grow to be. Then I try my best not to blubber to loudly.

Love,
Mom

17 months

2010-08-28T08:18:00.000-07:00

Dear Asa,

What happened to my baby? Was he swallowed by this giant toddler I see before me? For you are certainly that, a toddler. You have sneakers and real jeans with a zipper and a button. You have hair that sticks out at all angles and scrapes on yours knees. You eat popcicles and feed yourself. You have opinions and ideas and your very own quirky personality. It's amazing love, truly.

(Asa blue)

One of the cutest changes this month is that you have begun to recognize what is on your clothes and PJs. You have a pair of jammies with firetrucks and ambulances on them. One morning, after just waking, you sat on the couch with your morning baba sort of distractedly waving your arms in the air and looking around. And then you saw it, the truck on your arm. You froze. "Tuk tuk? Tuk tuk?" And when you realized that yes, they were indeed tuk tuks you came running over to show me. Ever since then you look on your clothes to see if they have anything interesting on them. A favorite of yours right now is the shark shirt. Every time I put it on you say "raawr!" because it seems logical that something with so many teeth would roar. I feel ya babe.

(put the hat on mom)

This month we spent our first ever night apart. Can you believe it? Nine months in, 17 months out and every single night together. Until now. I was in Portland photographing a wedding and visiting your Aunty Mar, your grandpa and yaya Murray and your good buddy Connor and his parents. It was a fabulous quick trip, but it was hard leaving you. As soon as I pulled out of the drive way I just sobbed. I can't even say why really. I knew you were happy and safe with your dad, I was excited for my upcoming adventure, all was well. But there's something about that separation, that initial tearing apart that ripped into me. When I came home though, there you were. Happy, naked, grubby and smiling - my boy! My heart melted to see your bright shining face again, I raced through the front door, ready to scoop you up.....when you saw your grandma, or "Ammaw" as it were. You scooted right around me with a big side step to the right and ran directly into your grandma's arms. It was adorable, if not a tad stinging. You love your grandma very, VERY much. But later that night, when I was getting you to bed, I held you in my arms and said "baby, I sure did miss you" You laid your head on my shoulder, wrapped your arms around me as far as they would stretch and, patting me, said "mama, my mama" and snuggled right in. I think it was the best moment of my life.

You started hugging lately, though I think that night was your first. And the best part of the hugs is that pat. It must be because I am always patting your back, and the feeling of your little hands reaching as far as they can with a little pat pat pat on my side, my shoulder, my back is just the best. You've also started jumping and that is just the funniest sight. I never stopped to think about all the complicated components, the precise movements that make up a jump. First you get down real low, bending your knees. Sometimes it's too low, a complete squat that doesn't allow you to get any air. Sometimes it's only a cursory bend, for show not for bounce. But sometimes, sometimes you get it just right with that perfect slight bend to the knee. The arms play a big part in your jump and the timing involved in coordinating the upward arm swing with the flexing leg bend is incredible. Often your arms will swing too early or too late, causing a sort of jerking plop of the body. When you're trying real hard you can even knock yourself over with these flapping arms. But when you get it right, when the timing is on its the combination of these flapping arms and those bending knees that propel you upward, pushes you skyward, your toes even leave the ground. Occasionally. Jumping is hard business, but your are determined. I can hear you in your room jumping in your crib some mornings after you've woken up but before you've called for me to come get you. The tell tale thump-thump-WHACK on the wall that is the bar of your crib slap-slapping on the wall. What's great about it though is that you can hold on to the railing and bounce on the mattress, making this whole vertical jump thing a lot easier. It does seem to confuse and upset you a tiny bit when I finally lift you out and you try to continue with the jumping though. One step, er jump, at a time.

This month you were sick with a nasty cough that lasted for weeks. It was horrible to hear, but amazing to watch. No one would ever have guessed that you were sick unless they heard that awful, retching cough. Your appetite was the same, your attitude was the same and your energy was, well, exuberant. Which is to say the same. You also learned how to open the fridge by yourself. You plant yourself in front of it, grip the handle with both hands and force all of your might back on it. You strain and grunt with the effort, body shaking, face turning red. And right when I think you're not going to be able to pry it loose, the suction pries loose and there it goes. You usually pick something in there, grab it and close the door again, only to repeat the process to open the door once more and replace the item. I like to encourage this game near bedtime, it's quite a little work out.

(I see you)

Another interesting change this month is your new found clingy-ness. Always my little independent boy, this is new to me. Especially in crowded situations, when we're around lots of unfamiliar people, you ask to be picked up, a little frantically, and as soon as you're in my arms its "mama, mama, mama!" You point directly at my face and look around at the strangers, imploring them with every new "mama" to recognize that I am your mama. There is such a sense of urgency involved, much like when you see or hear a truck and we all have to acknowledge it's passing too. Only this is ratcheted up a notch. You seem to do it right when you're uneasiest, right when you begin to feel overwhelmed or insecure. And all it takes to calm you down is to point out that this person right here is my mom and my mom only and as soon as someone else recognizes this too "yes, that's your mama Asa" you are fine again. You wiggle right out of my arms and hit the floor running, ready to continue playing now that the whole mom business is cleared up.

One of the things you love best in the world these days is to look at yourself in the mirror and do things. Mostly you like to put on different hats and look at them on you in the mirror, but lately you've been bringing things back there to sit on, or drum on or eat, all while watching yourself in the mirror. It cracks your dad and I up! You are so intent, so interested, so unabashedly into yourself! And you'd prefer to do this alone. You like it if someone else dresses up with you, but if we're hanging there just watching you are not at all pleased. Sometimes if there happens to be an article of clothing near you, usually mine or your dad's, you will work that into your show right away. You try to put on clothing by grabbing a piece in both hands and pulling it around you neck. The article of clothing usually ends up draped over your shoulders, kind of like a scarf. To walk into my bedroom and see you sitting there on one paint can, drumming on another wearing nothing but my nightgown as a scarf and your dad's hat on your head is the best thing ever. It may embarrass you someday, but I've already decided that I'll have to sneak up on you and film you doing this someday. It must be archived. It's just too good. I'm sorry.

(little cowboy or small stockman?)

Your favorite things to eat lately are yogurt (though only if you are allowed the bowl and spoon all to yourself, no help from mom) and blue berries. You love tiny PB&J's and scrambled eggs which you call "didgits" or dip-its because you get to dip them in a pile of ketchup. I've been making you popcicles this summer in those little plastic molds just like I had when I was a kid. You drink water from a cup and you use a spoon. You help me get you dressed some days and you assist in putting the groceries away every time. Your favorite movie is UP and you've learned that picking flowers and bringing them to mom almost always gets a good reaction. You know that after I take a picture of you with my digital camera that you can see yourself on the screen in back and you actually are gentle with the cat most days. Now, if we could just get a handle on this whole sharing business....maybe next month?

Love,
Mom

A current list of your words:

mom - mama
dad - dada
bottle - baba
Papa John - papa
Grandma - ammaw
Drew - Doooo
Dalbo - Dado
Steve - deeve
Tahvo - tahbo
truck - tuk tuk
tractor - tracthar
wheel - weeew
ball - ba
clock - tock tock
thank you - day du or daint do
no - nonono
all done - a'don
rock - dock
blue berry - babu
hammer - boom boom
apple - apoe
banana - anana
dip it - didgit
phone - hewow hewow (like hello hello)
balloon - bawooo
hi - hiii
bye bye - ba bye
chip - dgip
melon - nenon
book - bok bok
bird - booood
moon - mooooon
tree - teee
dog - dag
cat- tat
poo poo - poo boo
buddha - boobah
angel - jhool
bug - buda
duck - dudt
didgeridoo - doo doo doo

Faerieworlds

2010-08-09T08:47:00.000-07:00

A weekend in Eugene, Oregon at The Faerieworlds Festival with Marleigh, Grandma and the boys...

(Faerie flags fly high)

(nightime drum circle)

(a gathering of faeries)

(caught his eye)

(in motion)

(grandma faerie looks on)

(backstage faerie)

(light me up)

15 and 16 months

2010-08-03T07:27:00.000-07:00

Dear Asa,

Well, this sure has taken me awhile. But you know what? I've been busy! You're quite the hand full these days and we've been on the road a lot with your dad this summer. It's hard to keep up - with you and these letters - sometimes, but we're getting there, one step at a time.

(dancing in the sun)

These past two months have gone by in a flash and you are cruising right along. You are eternally curious, investigative and intent in your inspection. Bugs are quite fascinating these days, especially ants. You follow them along for a good while, watching the line of marchers heading to and fro. Once observation is done, you pick one out and point to it, tracking it's movement up the wall. Your little pointer finger moves in closer and closer, zeroing in on this one tiny ant until it is smashed on the end of your finger. You usually take it to someone, still smeared across your index, giving it up to them saying "Dis, dis, DIIISSSS" (which is Asa for "this" since bug isn't in your vocabulary yet) until they acknowledge your amazing find.

You have a new found love of books or "buk-buks" as you call them, since everything must have two syllables. Your favorite books at the moment are the ones with animals that make noise. Your face lights up at the question "What sound does the cat make?" And you are still grinning when you reply "Maaaaooooow, maaaaooooow" nearly at the top of your lungs. After we've gone through a litany of animals - your funny "maaaow" for cat and and little "uuff, uff" for dog, we get a "bit-bit" for frog (which almost sounds like ribbit) and, your favorite, a big "Raaaoor!" for dinosaur - you are on to body parts. Once one trick starts you usually like to run through them all. "Where's your nose Asa?" I ask. You positively light up when you smash your finger into the end of your little nose. We go through ears, hair, eyes, toes and mouth now too, saving your favorite for last. You love to stick your little pink tongue out and grunt when you point to your mouth. We're working on arms and legs now, fingers and hands too but these parts are still a bit confusing for you. We're getting there baby. After we finish up the body parts you dart to the fridge for the magnets. We have ten or fifteen up there that have pictures of various animals, machines and plants. I think you can pick out about six or seven of them now, running back and forth from the fridge to me with the requested piece. "Where's the airplane?" I start. You run to the fridge, eyes searching wildly. Once found you run back to me, the airplane magnet clenched tightly in your little fist. Next we look for the motorcycle, the cow, the tree, the truck and the tractor. The pig and the horse get in there sometimes, but the sheep is a bit confusing still and so are the different trucks, like a fire truck or a dump truck. At this point anything big and rumbling is a "tuk-tuk" and anything with mechanical arms that come off of it are "tactors". Makes sense to me.

(laughing with Uncle Dalbo)

Speaking of trucks and tractors, they have definitely made it to the top of your "things that are amazing" list and you must point out every, single one that passes. Even if we're in the house and hear the tell tale rumble of that diesel engine outside, you come screaming around the corner, shouting "Tuk-tuk! Tuk-tuk!" or "Tactor! Tactor!" while pointing to the road. This will go on and on until someone else recognizes this momentous occasion along with you. Your insistence in these situations is astounding. It really is important to you in that moment that we knowledge you and your "tuk-tuk" and you are quick to tears if we take a little too long in our recognition.

One place you are not quick to tears however is on the playground. Or the backyard, sidewalk, store, etc. When you take a tumble, even those really good ones where you end up with a bloody knee or a scraped hand, you very rarely cry. I've watched you walk right into the corner of our dining room table at lest 10 times since you've been tall enough to reach it. Every time your eyes are down, searching for something at your feet and THWACK! you catch that corner right above the eye. You stop, stumble backwards a sec, reach your hand up to your head and say "boom, boom" while making the sign for pain. You delight in telling me this, excited, I suspect, at being able to tell me about what happened. And then you're off, on to whatever it was you were doing before bashing your head in. Just yesterday we were at The Lake of the Woods out swimming and exploring. You spied a bird ("Boood, booood!" you shouted) and veered off the path to get a closer look. On the way you tripped and wound up with a nice, long scrape down the length of your left leg. It wasn't terrible, but bad enough to get a little bloody and make a nice scab. At the time though you just fussed a bit, came over holding your knee and presented your injury. In the end you were way more upset over the fact that the bird had flown away, tears streaming down your face you pointed to where the bird had been calling "Booood? Booood?!" My little man, tough as nails but sensitive at heart. Your dad calls you a sensitive little bruiser and I think it fits perfectly.

(riding your motorcycle with Uncle Drew)

Your sign language has improved considerably, but as you've also become more vocal I find us both relying on it less and less. Your two new favorite ones are baby - and you delight in pointing out every baby you find, even if that "baby" has a year or two on you - and dada. You love the sign for dada, especially when it seems that you are trying to tell other people that he is your dada. We've been on the road a lot these past two months, in Santa Cruz, LA, Portland, Eugene and many truck stops in between. During our travels you've been able to see a couple of your dad's shows, which is pretty new stuff for you. Now that you're a bit bigger, there's no doubt that you recognize your dad up there. And you want everyone watching to know that too! As we watched him up on stage at The Faeriewolds Festival this past weekend in Eugene you signed for dad over and over and over again, somewhat frantically searching around, waiting for people to see you and acknowledge that yes, that man up there is Asa's dad and Asa's dad only!

(little drummer boy)

You also want to get yourself up there on stage now. But not just to see your dad. You want to get up there to play the drums! Man oh man, do you love drums, especially the ones on Dalbo's big drum kit. He set you up there last weekend, gave you a couple drumsticks and let you go. Now, I know this is to be expected, but I was so impressed! You sat up there for a full 30 minutes and would have stayed longer had they not had a gig to play. You tried out every drum, every cymbal. You hit them each with your left hand and your right. You loved every second of it. You let Dalbo show you a few things, like crossing your arms in order to hit a drum and a cymbal at the same time. You dutifully mimicked as best you could, then continued banging right along. I may soon regret this, but I think you'll be needing your own drum kit!

We've had you in the water a lot more these past two months, but so far you're not terribly interested in anything over your waist. You love to splash in the shallows, and run in the sprinklers, but as soon as I take you in the water with me, holding you as I walk in, you start to squirm and screech. I must admit it is a bit comical love, the sound you make is much like a kitten, a poor pathetic kitten who's all wet and doesn't like it. You don't make too big of a fuss, but you definitely make it clear that you would like to be back on solid ground, thankyouverymuch. Your dad and I both want for you to be in the water as much as possible. Both of us grew up swimming and diving and splashing ourselves and want to have that experience with you. We'll just give it a little more time, eh?

(four generations)

Another of your newest explorations is jealousy. Wow baby, you sure are a fierce little thing when you want to be! It started in Los Angeles at our friends the Weichelt's. With a 6 year old, a 2.5 year old and a 1.5 year old running around, there was plenty of fodder for some jealousy flares. You were having a blast, running around their house and yard, playing with new toys, interacting with the kids and having a grand time. Until Harry, 2.5, sat down in my lap. You saw it from outside, through the sliding glass door. Your face contorted into a screaming yell. Not tears, but full on yelling. Around the corning you came, reaching out for me and yelling still. What happened next was surprising to me, because I thought for some reason you'd be mad at Harry, that you'd try to kick him off your mama's lap and claim your stake. But noooo, it wasn't Harry you were after, it was me! You ran right up to us, leaned in and bit me right on the leg. It was the last thing I was expecting and when I felt the pinch of those little teeth (all 14 of them!) I yelped. Loud. And this of course did make you cry. I sat in front of you, tears streaming down your face and said "No biting mama, you can't bite the mama!" and you scooted yourself closer to me, never taking your eyes from mine, leaned over my arm with your mouth open and pretended to bite me again! You didn't actually chomp down this time, but you made it clear you wanted to. Wow baby, it was intense! You had your little teeth bared, your eyes angry and holding mine and I swear a growl came up from your belly that was completely animalistic. "Mama, my mama! Mama, mama, my mama!" you shouted. It was quite a moment. This happened twice more that day, but never since, though you've still had some jealous moments since then. None, thankfully, that involved biting. You've now started to act jealous between your father and I, and, baby, it's pretty funny (though I'm sure you don' think so). It's just the little things that seem to make you jealous and get you worked up. Like when I'm holding you and we're walking somewhere. If your dad comes up and puts his arm around me you will imediatedly grab his hand and force it off of my shoulder. The same will happen if dad is the one holding you and I swing my arm around you. Grab it and throw it right off. I guess only one of us is allowed to love you at a time, huh?

(swinging with "Ammaw" and "Gigi")

You're working it all out kiddo - calculating, investigating, plotting. I love that I can see your ideas emerge, watch the thought process and see you as you begin to understand, as the dots connect and things fall into place. Every day you are more a little boy, less a baby. Every day you seem longer, taller, heavier. You seem to have been stretched out recently, your legs so long and straight, no longer chubby baby legs that curl into your body, they are strong and straight. Legs for running and jumping and climbing. Your hair is getting longer, blonder and curlier by the day and it's probably time I started brushing it. Your feet are long and wide, sturdy platforms for all the running around you do. Your hands are quick, and deft. The sound of your voice is like nothing else and when you snuggle into my arms cooing "Mama, mama, mama" I know that I am exactly where I'm meant to be. I love you baby.

Love,
Mom

Sweet baby Lexi

2010-06-17T07:08:00.000-07:00

A few favs from a lovely shoot with Miss Lexi...

14 months

2010-06-01T08:24:00.000-07:00

27 May 2010

Dear Asa,

I remarked to your dad yesterday that I had expected to feel sad about your getting bigger. It goes so fast, and so many people seem to miss those baby days. I thought that I would hate to see the infant slipping farther and farther away. And sometimes, I do feel that twinge of longing for the tiny babe you were. Just a twinge really, momentary, fleeting even. Because most days I am simply excited. Every day you learn something new. Every day smarter, more adept and cheekier too. With each new morning comes something that I didn’t think of. We interact more, play more, and communicate more. I think I see the little boy that you are becoming and I am truly excited to play with him, to explore the world with him and discover new things.

This week you came right up to me, sitting here, working on this computer, and you started to whine. Clearly you wanted something, but something you couldn’t sign for and couldn’t yet say. So you fussed for it and grew increasingly frustrated as I listed all the things I thought it could be. You only lost it more as the list grew longer. Finally a little light lit behind those blue eyes. You grabbed my hand, led me to the couch and pointed right underneath it. And there it was, your blanket, your favorite, softie little blanket crammed way under the couch just out of your reach. I retrieved the blanket and was quickly rewarded with the best smile in the world. This same scene has played itself out numerous times now – the cracker on the counter, the door to outside, the toy on the kitchen table. The only problem now is that you think that as long as you can accurately convey what it is you want then I should always get it for you. That’s a tough one with the shiny cutlery, the chocolate stash and every door that leads outside. But we’re getting there…

Two new teeth have popped through in these past few weeks, both little molars. You’ve skipped your canines for now and headed straight for the big guys. They look red and angry (and so do you!) when they’re about to break the skin and every time I look at them I feel a mental ouch. But everyday you want more and new things to eat, so I think these molars will come in quite handy. So far you’re still willing to eat most anything I put in front of you, so long as you’re allowed to feed it to yourself. Fruits are still a big favorite, especially strawberries, and anything that requires the use of a spoon gets a big smile. Your grandmother started giving you sheets of nori (plaguing me with childhood flash backs) and you love them. Seriously. I even encouraged you to spit it out, because c’mon, that’s gross. But no way. You absolutely love them. In fact you see the little package of them on top of the fridge and know exactly what they are. You point right to them and sign more. Even if you haven’t had any yet that day. Always more. And at this point you know that sign usually gets you what you want, so it works for now.

You’ve started a sort of fake laugh this month and it never fails to inspire true laughter in those listening. You usually use it to get attention, or remind me that you would like to be a part of it too, thankyouverymuch. Your dad and I are talking, giving one another our attention and you play with the bouncy balls your grandmother loves to buy you. As soon as you think you need to be a part of what we’re doing you come over, stand between us and let out a little riot of fake laughter. As if to say, “ha, that is funny mom. You know this one time I….” just to insert yourself into our conversation. And, obviously, it works. Nice one kiddo.

Now that the weather has begun to warm we head across the street to the park a couple times a week. I’m always glad to have my big dark shades there, because I get teary watching you play nearly every time. There’s something about watching you run across the yard and heave yourself up the steps – tiny tennis shoes flying, arms swinging wildly, with little squeaks and squawks escaping you as you go. You seem so big, look so long-legged and child like. No babies here. And for a fleeting moment, for the blink of an eye, I feel that twinge of sadness. And then so quickly, almost like it was never there, the joy floods in and replaces any trace of sadness. That’s my boy, I think, my son. And I am playing games with him at the park, watching him point to the swing and sign more, letting him lead me to the slide for the thousandth time, watching him study the older kids with thoughtful concentration. This is my growing boy, I think, my ever changing, always loving son. And that’s exactly when those shades come in handy…

Love,

Mom

Anika is 1!

2010-05-30T17:27:00.000-07:00

A few from a shoot with Miss Anika (and her beautiful family) on her big day...

Edynn Fern

2010-05-27T13:33:00.000-07:00

A few photos from a lovely afternoon shoot in Lithia Park with Edynn and her mama....

...and this last one is my absolute favorite.

How does your garden grow

2010-05-12T08:05:00.001-07:00

Tulips. We didn't know they were here when we moved in, but when we returned from Australia there they were. All white tulips that have started to turn purple at the edges as they age. Totally gorgeous.

Asa is a fantastic helper...

...and so is Papa John!

I even pitch in now and again.

We're getting there!

Papa John's poppies

Peas and beans

Giant fennel

Lavender

Hummingbird vine

Snapdragons

Sweet allysum

The quinoa has popped out! We'll see how she fares.

The carrots and beets have also poked there tiny heads above ground, but I'm not sure how they'll do. It's a but late, and a bit warm, for their liking, but I couldn't help but plant them. An experiment in gardening continues...

13 months

2010-04-30T09:05:00.000-07:00

27 April 2010

(wishes really do come true)

Dear Asa,

We are starting to communicate! And I couldn’t be more excited about it. And really, we’ve been communicating for a while now, in one way or another, but this is markedly different. You know a few words: mama, dad, Pa (for Papa John), and of course “no” is one of your favs. You like to repeat the first sound of words too, a big “bbbba!” when you see your stuffed bear, or a funny “ssssssstt” when you see Steve. Just recently the sign language started to kick in and I think this has helped us both out a lot. You can now tell me that you are hungry, that you want a bottle or that you want more. You can tell me that you are hurt, and (sometimes) where the hurt is. You also understand a whole bunch of words now, even if you can’t yet repeat them. You know people by name (if we ask you “Asa, where is grandma?” you always turn right to her) and you know your favorite toys (Asa, where’s the ball?). It’s all unfolding and coming together. The world is opening up love, one syllable at a time.

(one happy, messy boy)

You have a wonderful wealth of tricks now. Your headstands have evolved into handstands now. Your hands planted firmly on the ground you lift one leg in the air, still a bit unsure as to how to get the other one up there too. You like to look back at us from between your legs while you do this. I don’t think I have to tell you how freakin cute that is. Even so, I’d have to say my current favorite is “How bigs your belly”. When someone asks you “Asa, how big is your belly?” you immediately stick it out as far as you can, bending your back at impossible angles, and growl as loud as you can. Then you clap for yourself. It’s the best thing ever, I’m pretty sure.

(you love to share your food with anyone brave enough to take a slobbery bite from your grubby hands. Grandma is brave)

This month has been full of teething again, your 9th tooth, a nice molar, has popped up and you’ve let us know you are not pleased about it. Number ten is on the way. You’ve been eating and eating, new things this month were grapefruit and cheesecake (thankfully not together). You are also becoming pretty darn good with a spoon. A few weeks ago you started to refuse anything that came on the end of a spoon, didn’t matter if it was yogurt, cereal, potatoes, whatever. You’d turn your head away and screech, while reaching for the spoon. So I gave it to you, ready to throw you in the tub when the mess was done. You are so determined with that utensil love, it is absolutely endearing to watch. With very concentrated efforts you squeeze the blue plastic handle and extend your arm towards the bowl of applesauce. Your first shot misses, the spoon lands on the tray, but it’s near the bowl. The second and third tries miss the bowl as well. But you keep at it, stubborn now that you have decided what you want to do. I left you there for a good 20 minutes with that spoon and the applesauce and, by the end, you actually did get some in your mouth. Now we let you practice daily and you end up with about two thirds eaten and the rest on the tray or in your hair. Needless to say love, I am impressed.

(baba time on the couch)

The best new game in your world is to play in a fort. Grandma started this with you, making a tiny fort under your highchair. Since then anything can be a fort. You try to put blankets over everything and get under it, even me. When we play on the floor now it doesn’t take long for you to find one and try to get it over my head. To make a Mom-Fort, of course. Once I get the blanket draped over us you laugh and laugh, rolling in and out of the Mom-Fort. It gets a little hot under there, and my arms get tired holding up the edges, but it brings you so much joy I can hardly even think of taking a break.

(you LOVE to play at the park)

You also love to be outside. You love to dig with your dad and I in the garden, play with your grandma in the back and help Papa John build the planter boxes out front. Every morning you go right to the sliding glass door and press your face longingly against the glass, just wanting so badly to be out there running around. Summer is coming my love, and soon we can play out there all day long. Days filled with grass and sun and watermelon. Our first summer in Ashland together, as a family. It’s going to be another great adventure love, and we’ll all play outside together everyday. We can even make a fort. I promise.

Love,
Mom

(you always remind me to take a little time to smell, or eat, the flowers. Thanks baby)

Abby

2010-04-19T08:09:00.000-07:00

A few photos from the shoot with lovely Miss Abby and her family...

1 Year!

2010-04-12T06:07:00.000-07:00

Dear Asa,

A year: Three hundred and sixty-five days. Fifty-two weeks. Twelve months. Four seasons. One full rotation around the sun. Is it possible? Can we already be here, celebrating your birthday?

Here I am, my love, awe struck by your progress, your growth, your evolution. A steep upward incline, you have rocketed through this first year. Rolling over, sitting up, cooing, eating, walking, talking - and this is just this beginning! This is the tip of the iceberg, just a sliver of your life.

And it's been this fullest, biggest and busiest year of mine.

You are not the only one to have done some growing. I, like all new mothers, jumped head first into this ocean of parenthood. Some days I could only doggy-paddle, just barely keeping my head above water. Struggling for the patience, the energy and the perseverance. Some days I cried, some days I felt insufficient. Some days I wasn't good enough. And other days I glide through glassy seas, backstroking through the waves. Surfing on swells of pure love, higher than I've ever been. Some days, the answers come easy to these fingertips, some days I don't even search for them, they're just there. But not a single day passes, that I do not grow to love you more.

We've spent the last month of your first year in Australia. Here you've met your grandparents, four cousins, two aunts, two uncles and many friends. It's strange to think that you won't remember this time. You won't have memories of running on the beach with Uncle Hamish, doing headstands with Lily and Grace or being chased around the kitchen bench by Dawnie and Dave. You won't remember your first swim in the ocean, your first taste of Vegemite or your day on the farm. You won't recall your first camping trip, or your first sight of parrots and kangaroos. But I will tell you, love. I'll tell you all the stories, over and over, so that they become a part of your memory, a part of your experience.

Every single day I look at you and I cannot really believe that you will ever be any bigger than you are in that exact moment. How could it be? You're so big already. I've seen all the moments from the first until this very one; and to think that there will be thousands, millions, trillions and billions more is....nearly unfathomable, really. Sure, sometimes I catch a glimpse and you look so boyish. The curve of your cheek, the gap in your teeth, the speed in your step - you could almost be a little boy, a kid, a toddler. But then the light changes, the clouds shift, and my baby is back. I see the baby still when I change your diaper, when you grip your toes and pull them towards your mouth, laughing. I see my baby still when you cry, when you're tired, when you're upset. The baby is there (and I suspect that he always will be, in some small, motherly way), if you look. But the boy emerges, the toddler toddles out and the little babe starts to fade away.

You have many tricks now, and you seems to learn new ones daily. Lately you like to dance, play the air drums (like dad and Guy taught you), show off your headstand and "smell" the flowers. This smelling involves more licking than anything else, you scrunch up your nose, put the flower (or leaf, twig, clump of grass, etc) in your mouth and breath in and out exaggeratedly. It's wonderful.

You love to eat bananas still, and strawberries are quickly making their way to the top of the list. Lately you won't let anyone feed you. Nope, you can do it all by yourself, thank you very much. You screech and holler at me every time I try to stick that spoon in your face. So I put pretty much everything in front of you and let you go. You are a great eater, refusing nothing (unless it's on the end of a spoon, in my hand of course). Squash, pickles, watermelon, yogurt - you name it! You are especially interested in anything that comes from someone else's plate. As we sit for dinner you are quickly under foot, begging scraps off any who will offer.

Your birthday celebration was a total success. There was family, music, laughter and love. Cake, presents, champagne and sunshine. What more could one wish for? Letting you go at that cake was probably more fun for me than it was for you. For as long as I've imagined having children I have pictured that moment. Setting the pristine cake in front of you, waiting for silent seconds as you contemplate your choices, your odds. Is it really mine, you look up at me and ask with your eyes. Go for it love, I encourage you. Then wait, wait....wait....and pounce! The cake is yours! All yours! Fingers digging in, hands and palms smashing, spreading the cream and the crumbs everywhere. It was gorgeous. Just like I always thought it would be. Thanks for that one love.

Sometimes, when you are sleeping in my arms, I gaze down at you and the tears just pour out. I simply can't help it. It's as if all this love, all this joy and pride is overflowing inside me, and there are moments when it spills over. Your face still and serene, breath gentle, rhythmic. The curve of dark lashes, the curl of blond hair and the clean breezy scent of you. I am overcome. All these features, all these small bends and mounds, they will become the body, the face of a man. This thought rockets through me with equals parts joy and apprehension. What a task, what duty. And what a privilege.

Happy birthday my love.
Mom

New Trick: Headstands

2010-03-23T22:50:00.000-07:00

Nearly every time we head down to the beach (at least once, sometimes twice a day!) we all have great fun practicing our headstands and cartwheels and other acrobatic/yogic moves. It's a fantastic way to get ready for the water. Asa loves watching us all do this, and by the third day he was ready to give it a go:

Now, every time we head to the beach (whether it's the first or second trip of the day) Asa is quick to show off his headstand skills.

West of The Blue Mountains

2010-03-18T14:53:00.000-07:00

The journey across the Blue Mountains and our time at Stirling...

Good thing Angus did the driving, I'm all turned around.

Asa: the seasoned traveller

A sunset excursion out the back paddock lead us to our first kangaroo. She kept her distance mostly, but let me near enough to catch a glimpse...

Asa is ready for a good Aussie country meal on the farm after a long day of exploring

...and is up early the next morning to start again.

I'm still too nervous to get close enough to add something to the frame for size reference (and I don't think I'll muster the courage any time soon). This is one of the smaller spiders around, about the size of a small house cat.

Dusk, at Stirling.

Camping at Meroo National Park

2010-03-12T13:59:00.000-08:00

11 months

2010-03-05T12:07:00.000-08:00

February 27, 2010

Dear Asa,

One day after you turned 11 months old, we got on a plane and flew half way around the world - what a way to celebrate, eh? But I'll back up a moment first....

We started this adventure by driving to Carmel Valley, Ca. A sort of half way point between home and Los Angeles, where dad had some work to do finishing the latest album. You're quite the seasoned traveler now, so the 7 hour car ride was a breeze for you. You happily ate a few snacks and watched the world pass by your window. One night with family (Hi Paul, Jody, Haley and Rayna!) and we were on the road again. Another 7 hours of snacking, sleeping, singing and window watching and we arrived in Los Angeles.

(Grandpa Paul reads you "Where The Wild Are" for the first time)

(Ang takes it easy in Carmel Valley)

We had 10 wonderfully chaotic, awesomely busy days with our friends in Los Angeles. Lillian, 6; Harry, 2; and Althea, 1. Now Asa's dearest friends. He dutifully followed any and all children around the back yard - trying to climb trees, straddle big wheels and traverse stairs. There was hardly a dull moment as Asa learned to run with the pack. Althea showed you how to dance to "Funky Town". Lillian shared her cookies with you, which were your first (of many). And Harry showed you how to get on the Big Wheel and climb the tree in the back yard. Out of the Oregon winter (quite mild compared to our last winter in New York) and into the warm Southern California climate, we practically lived in that backyard. You are fascinated by the outdoors, always wanting out, always wanting to explore. So we did just that, and happily. While there your 8th tooth popped out (after a long night of crying) and we bought your first pair of hard soled shoes. You walk quite well now, chasing kids and small animals without too much falling, climbing stairs and steps with ease. You even "run" when your dad or I chases you, threatening a good armpit tickle. Tumbling, ever onward...

(Little kids on big wheels)

(Harry and Lillian wrestle)

(This boy is a gorgeous one)

(Monkey see, monkey do)

After much backyard play we boarded The Flight at about 10:30pm. Can I just tell you how terrified I was about this flight? When I flew with you at two months I was nervous. After that flight I realized I had nothing to worry about. You were an absolute doll, happy to nurse most of the way, sleep the other bits and occasionally open an eye to coo at my neighbor. Really quite uneventful. But that was a puny little cross country flight, a mere five hours on board. And you were so little, barely animated, you lived horizontally, sleeping in my arms, looking dreamily up at me from the breast. But this latest flight was a monster cross the Pacific Ocean fly half way around the world flight. And you are an upright, go-getting, eager for the world boy! What to do?! So we gathered tips and trick from friends, we packed our bags with new toys, new treats and your favorite blankets. We brought cookies and crackers, dried fruits and fingers foods galore. And you know what, it worked! You fussed a few times, mostly just unhappy about the cold that has been clinging for weeks. You ate your foods, and played with your toys. You ran down the aisles, charmed the flight attendants and slept a good portion of the way. The last few hours did seem dreadfully long, but I think that was inevitable. You were wonderful really, and I thank you for it love. (Now lets just remember that for the return flight, shall we?)

(Big wheeler)

(Drew communes with the local wildlife, Balboa Park, Ca.)

Your grandpa was there at the airport in Sydney to greet us with a warm smile and a big bear hug. A few hours in the car (on the wrong side of the road!) and we were home, at Narawalle Beach. The place your father remembers playing as a child, the beach he learned to swim at, catch waves at, play beach cricket at. His childhood home. And now you are here too my love, teetering down that very same shore, splashing in the shallows, scooping up the sand and running from the waves. Your father's pride radiates. He glows here, his first born in arms, proudly presented for his Australian family to see, to smell, to touch to love. And my goodness my dear, do they love you! You have four of your seven cousins here and each of them is happy to lift you up to reach that toy just beyond your fingertips, or share a bit of banana, show you how to work that tennis racket. Happy to play with you in your grandparent's backyard, or watch you play on the beach. They have brought you gifts and held your hand, kissed your cheek and sang you songs. Oh how they love you so.

(King of Narrawallee Beach)

(Proud papa)

And so begins our next adventure, Australian edition. We have many days ahead of us and many big plans. And I am so excited to be here with you.

Love,
Mom

Birds on a line, sunrise

2010-02-09T08:57:00.000-08:00

Outside our living room windows...

10 months

2010-02-07T15:40:00.000-08:00

27 January 2010

Dear Asa,

This month brought your 6th and 7th teeth, a new determination to reach all things just over your head, your first (and only) use of sign language and curls. And boy, do I love those curls. Most people may not even be able to see them, but I can. Especially after bath time, your hair still wet. The sweetest little curly cues spring out above your ears and on the top of your head. The image is to die for: You’ve just been scooped out of the tub, wrapped in a fresh towel, warm from the dryer. I get a few, quick pat downs in, scrubbing the water off our hair briefly. And then you’re off. Naked little body tottering down the hallway, all smiles and laughter. There still isn’t much hair to speak of, but what’s there is sticking out at all angles about your head. The tiniest of curls tucked haphazardly behind little ears, and even one or two twists on the top of your head. Minuscule tufts glowing ginger blond in the late afternoon light. You are quite a sight my love.

(my little birdy, flap-flappin his wings)

Teeth, teeth and more teeth have dominated the past four weeks. You like teething about as much as you like being told not to play with the cat. Which is to say you positively HATE it. Each tooth is welcomed by drool and fever, runny nose and crankiness. Much crankiness. You’re mad about it, understandably, and even madder still that your father and I don’t make it stop. You look at us sometimes, pawing at your angry gums, pleading with whines and sobs and sharp cries. Heart breaking, to be sure. But even on the worst days you smile more than you frown.

(blowin raspberries)

My favorite thing in the world lately is to play with you. You’ve become so interactive now, so engaging. You understand the back and forth of the game, chasing me then turning around to be chased. It’s amazing to watch the connections, the realizations taking place. You’ve also started to put things away this month. Not necessarily back where they came from, but still back somewhere. I often find one of your socks in the refrigerator door, or a book in the bathtub. You very much like to take things from one place and put them in another. Bits of avocado in the toy bin, dad’s cell phone in the dishwasher, a hat in with the pots and pans. It’s always a surprise. And so far the ingenuity surpassed the annoyance.

You are walking very steady now, on your feet more often than not. You laugh when your dad or I jump out from around the corner. You have three favorite blankets, all the same soft plush, and you sleep with at least two of them every night. Your favorite food is banana and you love it when we let you have a sip of water from our glass. Your hair is somewhere between blonde and ginger and your eyes have settled on a deep stone blue. You talk a lot these days, asking for a “ba” (bottle) when you want one and search the house looking for “mom mom” or “da da da” respectively. You are always moving, always learning always growing. You are non stop, a dynamo, a bundle of action. You are my fantastic, fearless boy and I am your very, very proud mama.

Love,
Mom mom

Asa, in action

2010-01-08T09:12:00.001-08:00

Asa begins the new year - welcome to 2010! from lichen richardson on Vimeo.

9 months

2009-12-29T10:18:00.000-08:00

27 December 2009

Dear Asa,

This is it my love, this is THE letter. This is the one in which I tell you that you have joined the world of the up right, the vertical, the walking. Yes my dear, you can walk! And before you were nine months old, amazing. It started with the standing – one day, just before you were six months old, I came in to get you as I heard you wake from your nap, and there you were. Standing in your crib, all by yourself. You had stood with support before this, but never on your own, but there you were. Beaming with pride. Then you started to pull yourself to stand on anything and everything – the couch, the kitchen cupboards, my skirts and even the walls. This rather huge effort was followed by the more refined skill of free standing (which sounds like an awesome new extreme sport). For moments at a time you would let go of whatever it was that you were balancing on, and just stand. Never has something so incredibly dull as standing been so awesomely amazing. To see you just standing there, swaying slightly side to side, adjusting your body to it’s new upright posture, is startling really. Your life thus far has been lived horizontally – laying in my arms, sleeping in your crib, playing on your back, shimmying on your tummy - this is my view of you. And now the world has tilted slightly, or so it seems, because my little baby boy is vertical. And not only that – you have forward motion! At first it was just a couple steps, one awkward foot in front of the other while you held both my hands. Then the steps were more confident. Then you only needed one hand. And then, at about 8 ½ months, you made the leap. With all your bravery you simply let go of my hand and tumbled towards your dad’s waiting arms. This was upright, and propelled forward, but hard to classify as actual walking. It was so out of control, you were just sort of falling forward while in an upright position, but they were steps, to be sure. And then, just four days before Christmas, you really did it. You were standing up, holding on to a chair for support, your dad and I about 5 baby steps away sitting on the floor. With one look of absolute determination you did it, you let go. And then one, slow, steady step at a time, you walked right to us. You did the same thing twice more that day, and about 15 times the next day. Just yesterday you rounded the corner, all on your own. It’s here, this is it. You are walking my love. WALKING!

With this great new ability comes great new risk – for the perils of walking are many. As we both found out just last week. You started at the couch, standing and eying the coffee table as your destination. Not a second later, you were off. One step, then pause to steady. Two steps, another pause. Then the third step, that tumbled into fourth and fifth, sixth and you were almost there…but not quite. You went down, face first, just a half a step away from the table, your goal. But that half a step really made a difference. Instead of grabbing the table and using it to steady yourself, you fell just before it, catching the corner over your left eye. And then the world ended (for a split second anyway). I dove and scooped you up, “You’re ok, you're ok” already pouring over and over from my lips – though I wasn’t sure if I believed it yet myself. The few moments between impact and screaming seemed to stretch on forever as I searched your crumpled face for a gash, a bruise or something worse. The spill ended up leaving a bit of a shiner and a small cut above your eye. You were laughing and playing again within minutes, while I on the other hand shook for an hour. You are tough, my love, to be sure. And it seems that I will need to be tougher if I am to make it through your scrapes and spills with you.

You walk, you fall, you recover and you know what else you do? Clap! It may be the cutest thing in the world right now, and I think you’ve caught on to this. Every time you do it you get a big reaction from your dad and I (even now after 8,346,478 times) and you love this. So now you use it to your advantage. When you head for something off limits, like the toilet or the cat, and you hear me behind you sternly saying “No!” you turn around and face me, then clap. Oh man. You are cheeky, as your father would say.

This month also saw your very first Christmas. It was cold and frosty outside, we were warm an cozy by the fire with your Auntie Mar and Grandma Murray. Though you had many wonderful gifts from friends and family, the wrapping more than anything else intrigued you. That and the ribbon. In fact, we still have boxes of it around just for you to play with. And I may keep them out for a while it seems.

As I type this you are walking the ten or so paces from the kitchen into the dining room where I sit. Your big, somewhat goofy grin spreads across your face, punctuated by four tiny teeth and animated by your grunting laugh. You laugh and smile as you slowly, awkwardly walk tome. You turn the corner now, concentrating hard on that right turn….and plop! You are down on your butt, and still happy as can be. Busting with pride and spilling over with happiness, you scramble back up to your feet, ready for another go. And you know what? So am I. Lets go play!
Love,
Mom.

Another new trick: Playing the didgeridoo

2009-12-09T11:20:00.000-08:00

Angus has played the didgeridoo for Asa since he was in my tummy - so the sound is most definitely familiar. And we have many a didge around the house, so he ends up playing with them often. Yesterday Asa decided to play - he got his mouth at the end of it and started hooting through it, delighting in the sound that came out the other end.

(Hooting away)

("Did you hear that?!")

This kid is just too darn cute sometimes.

New Trick: Sweeping

2009-12-01T16:09:00.000-08:00

Asa found the broom the other day and it now far surpasses all other toys.

All the baubles and gadgets in the world pale in comparison to the almighty broom.

And don't even think about taking it away from him. The world may very well end in that moment. At least, it seems as though it feels that way for him.

How could I even consider upsetting this face?

8 months

2009-11-28T08:22:00.000-08:00

Dear Asa,

On the day after Thanksgiving you turned 8 months old. As we cleaned up the destroyed kitchen, ate leftovers and stashed away more for later, you got just a teeny bit older. It's happens slowly, minute by minute, and yet here it is, rushing by at lightening speed. Weren't you just crawling? Just cooing? Just born? Shoot, sometimes my belly rumbles and for a split second I think that I am still pregnant! You are zooming through infancy, tumbling forward towards toddlerdom and hurrying us along with you.

(Peek-a-boo view from under the highchair)

You are weeks away from walking (if that!) and it is terrifyingly awesome. You are in such a rush to be big, to do things on your own. You've been able to pull yourself up to a standing since just after 6 months and now you're been cruising for a few weeks. You crawl over to the couch with alarming speed, hips rocking side to side as you slide your knees along the hard wood floors. In seconds you're at the love seat, hoisting yourself up to your feet. Not a moment later you are sliding along the front, tiny fingers outstretched - that remote control is yours. You even know that it is likely I will take it away from you, so you give it a little extra energy, an additional boost of speed, so as to at least get it in your mouth once before all fun is squashed my mean 'ol mom. It's amazing to see those tiny toes taking steps, moving forward with purposeful motion. The only thing you love more than walking along the couch (or a chair, the pack n' play, unpacked boxes, etc) is to hold some one's hands as you walk around the room in circles. Over and over again. After taking 50 or so laps around the room, I stop and try to get you to sit. But your body becomes rigid as you flex your entire being, refusing with every muscle to sit down. If and when I finally get you on your butt, you crumble, totally and completely fall apart. Because the world has ended, life is over and everything sucks. To see your face in these moments is to know real heart ache and feel true despair. Tears stream down your little crumpled cheeks as you lament your woes. Thankfully your dad is back from the road and can swoop in to save the day.

(Who you lookin' at?)

One thing that seems to bring you as much joy as walking is to rifle through the cupboards and drawers in the kitchen. Oh, what fun. When you first realized you could open them I designated one large drawer in the kitchen to you. I thought I was so clever, giving you your very own, filled with toys and plastic measuring cups. As if something that was already yours would remain interesting. As if you’d be content to be limited to one lonely drawer. Ha! For less than one day this drawer held your attention, until you realized that there were many other drawers and cupboards you could reach. Ones with far more interesting things in them, things that cut and slice, things that break and pinch. Dangerous things! I’m still working at getting the child proof latches installed, but something tells be they will not keep you out for long…

(They're ALL Asa's drawers)

Your auntie Marleigh is in town and it is one of the best things in the world just to watch you two play and laugh. I'd be hard pressed to find two people in this world that I love more, and to watch you make each other so happy is exponentially gratifying. She holds your small hands, taking you on your 500th lap of the living room. She patiently sits on the floor with you after you've finally given in to examine a toy more closely. She holds you while you drink your bottle, eyes sleepily gazing up into hers. She picks you up when you cry, and laughs with you when she tickles you. Some day, I imagine, she'll let you have too much ice cream in the park, or stay up too late watching scary movies, or back the car out of the driveway. She will always be your Auntie Mar, and for that we are both truly blessed.

(Asa helps with laundry)

One of my favorite things you do right now is this funny laughing smile. You squinch up your nose, wrinkling it as much as is possible, smile at the same time, and breath in and out of your nose real quick. Your lips are pulled back when you do this and I can see all four of your tiny white teeth. The gap between the two on the top make this strange snorting smile all the more endearing. Really, it is just the cutest thing in the whole, wide world. And you know this. If someone does it to you, you will do it right back, delighting in the back and forth of the game. Apparently I use to do this exact same thing when I was you age - now how cute is that?

(Squinchy face)

Another ridiculously adorable thing you started doing this month is kiss. At least we are guessing that’s what it is. It’s usually when I’m holding you in my arms, straddled on a hip. You lean in towards my face, mouth already open, and place your drool soaked lips on my cheek (or chin, or forehead or temple, whatever is within reach). Though it leaves drool dripping down my face, I just love the sweetness in that moment. I’ll take all the kisses I can get.

(Yum)

You are moving fast my love, in a hurry to get somewhere. This often leaves me in such a strange little quandary. Of course I am awesomely proud of you. I just beam as other people marvel at your strength, your intelligence, your speed and agility. I am admittedly delighted when we are walking in the park, your small legs stepping one in front of the other and someone stops to ask how old you are. Only 8 months?! They exclaim. Impossible. Fierce mama pride shows in my face, to be sure. But as proud as I am my love, I am also just a tiny bit sad. So quick, you are, a little speed racer, zooming through these first eight months. Soon enough I will count your age in years, drop you off at school, teach you how to drive. It’s all happening so fast, milestones passed in a moment, and sometimes I want it to slow down. So I take way too many pictures, and I write these letters each month to remind me to stay right here in the moment. With you. Always.

Love,
Mom

8 pictures from our hew home

2009-11-20T08:16:00.000-08:00

(We followed fall across the country all the way home)

(Angus and Asa in Lithia Park)

(Asa plays in his new park)

(Fall's colors in black & white)

(One of Asa's favorite new pastimes - food painting/eating in the highchair)

(Beautiful dahlias from the weekly Grower's Market that just happens to be right across the street from our house)

It turns out you can go home again - and it never felt so good.

7 months

2009-11-02T17:28:00.000-08:00

Dear Asa,

You are seven months old now and quite the seasoned traveler. With a four day road trip and international travel conquered, we thought we’d tackle a cross country move. Eleven states, six days, five hotel rooms and one enormous U-Haul later, we are here in the Pacific Northwest. I am more than a little impressed with us all.

What brought us all that way? From Upstate New York all the way to Southern Oregon? Simple. It was family. Not until starting my own did I realize the importance – even the necessity – of having friends and family around you. It takes a tribe… Our beautiful home in the Catskills was the stuff of adventures. We braved blizzards and hiked mountains, built fires and tended garden. We had a wood stove and a gourmet kitchen, a claw foot tub and forest of a backyard. I learned how to build a fire and how to properly cut back the blackberries. Your dad pruned the apple trees and learned the differences between ax, maul and hatchet. But most importantly, we made a baby. In hindsight it seems so obvious. We moved to the mountains to have a baby, to bring you into this world in the best possible way for us all. And I wouldn’t change it if I could. Your first earthly home was thousands of miles away from family (except “auntie” Bess and “cousins” Monty and Griff!!) and, by many accounts, we were alone. But there was beauty in this isolation, something full of grace and light. Being alone with you in those first days, weeks months was like a dream. everything fuzzy and beautiful. The time of a newborn is like no other, days and nights washed together, colors bled into each other like mis-washed clothes. Your brand new scent and sounds all around us. Profound newness. Outside, it was spring, with crocus' blooming and snow melting. We were heated by the fire, but truly warmed by the magic that is co-creation. I could not imagine a more perfect place to come into this world. And so it seems New York was for baby making – and Oregon is for baby raising.

Your grandmother has been an invaluable part of this big move – I don’t even know how it could have happened without her. In this last month you have become completely mobile – crawling, scootching and now even cruising along the edge of the couch – and that extra set of hands was more than helpful. It is amazing to watch her with you, my own mother, the same hands that fed and diapered me, loving you with the same tenderness, the same motherly dexterity. And 24 years later, she still has the touch.

Less than a week before we piled into the truck and headed West, you broke your very first teeth. Yes, that’s plural. Two of them came through in the same night, and you certainly let us know about it. I can only imagine that pain, as it’s one of those things that we blessedly don’t remember. After teething tablets, biter biscuits and frozen teething rings, I think you found the most relief from chomping down on your finger while sort of humming and moaning. I imagine the subtle vibration was soothing and making a lot of noise was just an added bonus. Now these two small teeth punctuate your smile. It is astounding how something so small can make such a change. Your gummy grin is no more, replaced now with the beginning of a little boy’s smile. Now your two top teeth are hiding under angry and swollen gums, sure to break through any day now.

Your teeth have been a part of your new favorite activity – eating. Man, can you put it away! I am still surprised when you finish that entire banana, all mashed with rice cereal and formula and even more shocked when you top it off with some avocado AND a bottle. Where can it all go? A hollow leg? A trap door? You are in constant motion, so you must burn through those calories like wildfire. It is not an exaggeration, you are literally moving every moment you are awake. And quite a few when you are sleeping too. You are active, and eager - to say the least. And you love to play in our new living room. With a wide and open layout, you have the run (or crawl) of almost the whole house. Lately I will walk by, busy unpacking, washing diapers or cooking dinner, and you will ask me to come and play with you. “Dadadadaaaadadaa!” You shout. Roughly translated as “Hey mom! Come play on the floor with me, it is awesome!” And you smile so happily that I could not dream of refusing. Down on the ground, a living room away, I bang a toy on the floor boards. Loud and possibly destructive, this is appealing indeed. You waste no time in getting to me, starting out with a rapid crawl from your sitting position. But after a few paces this feels too slow, so you drop to your belly and assume the commando crawl, pushing with your toes and dragging yourself, alarmingly fast, with your forearms. You are on me in seconds. And climbing me like a human jungle gym. Completely upright, your hand on my knee for balance, you fearlessly reach for the toy in my hand. Mine, your eyes say. And pride washes over both our faces.

More teeth are coming soon. Then talking. Walking. And all other manner of minor miracles. As your dad would say, blow my tiny mind. You astound me daily. And I can’t wait for tomorrow.

Love,
Mom

And then they drove across country...

2009-10-25T18:34:00.000-07:00

Time to play a little photographic catch up. We successfully packed up the big old farm house in New York (thanks to Asa's grandma!) and then drove across 11 states in 6 days with everything we own, including our little car towed behind the truck, our blind cat Steve and the aforementioned grandmother. Amazing.

A few photos from the last two weeks of packing and driving and adventuring...

(Grandma and Asa have a wrestle)

(The Pack Men)

(Asa takes his turn at the wheel)

(snacks on the road)

(Antelope in Wyoming - who knew?)

(Little family, big adventure)

(The long, long road)

(Sunrise in rearview)

(Mom drives the big, huge truck)

(Cozy in his seat)

Adventures to be told and more photos to share...soon.

On the road

2009-10-21T03:58:00.000-07:00

Our lives in the truck we drive, we are Westbound. Homebound. Every minute one more mile, every day one step closer.

We are on our way.

(More photos and updates coming soon...)

New trick: Holding the bottle by himself

2009-10-01T04:05:00.000-07:00

Asa has been interested in holding his own bottle since we introduced it. Recently he has mastered the coordination necessary to perform this task. We still breast feed more often than not, but the occasional bottle has been very handy (and I love the three minutes of free hands it gives me too).

6 months

2009-09-28T08:03:00.000-07:00

27 September 2009

Dear Asa,

Six months is a mighty big number, and you are a mighty big boy. Weighing in at 19 pounds this month, you are growing quick. Especially since we started solid foods. You have a new and different energy, new stamina and strength since the introduction of cereal and banana (and now sweet potato, yam, pear and yogurt!). You most definitely enjoy your food and, if I would let you, you’d (try to) feed yourself. One step at a time though kid.

You are easily distracted and, by that same token, interested in every single thing around you. You are constantly craning over my shoulder, trying to see what that person is doing, or where that car is going, or that cat, leaf, bird, speck of dust. You squirm and twist so as to be facing the action always, never missing a moment. You love being a part of the conversation. Eyes darting from left to right you examine the speaker, watching his mouth with curiosity, then you reach for it, fingers needing desperately to touch that noise making thing. Like every intriguing object it must first be pawed, pinched and poked with your tiny fingers, then scooped up and plopped in your mouth. Sometimes you skip the gabbing and go straight for the licking, leaning your drooling mouth right into someone’s face.

(With dad, on the road)

You’ve decided that the worst thing in the world is to have your clothes changed (you feel similarly about being strapped into your car seat). And I mean THE WORST. When I have to change your shirt I take a big deep breath and then plunge in, determined not to stop until the dirty and drooled upon shirt is replaced by a clean one (that will remain clean for exactly 2.8 seconds). And man, do you put up a good fight. You flail your arms, waving them madly, hitting me, yourself, the bed and anything else within your tiny wingspan. You kick and twist your body, rolling one way and then the other, evading me rather deftly. And you scream about it too, of course. Announcing your feelings with all the air in your lungs, you let me know that you do not like this at all, thankyouverymuch.

Our big events this month were tough ones – though I must admit they were probably tougher for me than for you. Falling of the bed was a real doosie. Everyone says it happens, that there’s almost no escaping it. Your kid will fall off something and you will feel horrible for it. And it’s true, it takes only one split second for it to happen. One micro moment in time while your eyes are elsewhere and THUD!, that sickening sound. You began to wail before I could even get you off the floor (a good sign, I thought, somewhere in my panic stricken brain). You were in my arms and we were out the door within seconds. I paced the yard, trying to steady myself before assessing you. My fingers grabbing your small arms and toes, probing for bumps, broken bones, the worst. But you stopped crying before I did. Five, maybe ten minutes and you were on to the next, looking for something new and already distracted by the multitude of colorful, moving objects outside. How quickly you were over it, on to the next. And I, well, I took a bit more calming (thank you Bess for the magic touch).

(Gotta love the drool)

We have also survived your very first cold. I think you hardly noticed it. You played on like nothing was different, like you didn’t have a persistent cough or a river of snot pouring from your nose. The only times you seemed to mind the cold at all were the times we had to help you out. You hated having your nose wiped and sucking it out with that ridiculous nose sucker (aspirator, I think it’s actually called) was just the worst. I hated doing it, you hated sitting through it. But it did help, or at least allow you to suck and breath at the same time, which was of course crucial at meal time. Together, we make it through another milestone.

It’s happening fast (everyone said it would) and you are literally growing before my eyes. Your hair is coming in, you have two bottom teeth about to poke through and a will and determination has surfaced that is positively fierce. You are strong and tenacious, even stubborn sometimes. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love my little fiery Aries, my exuberant boy. My son.

Love,
Mom

Split pea and ham

2009-09-24T05:35:00.000-07:00

We've all got colds around here (Asa's first) and we're feeling the fall. Soup was definitely in order. Something hardy and filling, warm and comforting. Bored with chicken noodle, I came up with a vegetable filled split pea and ham.

2 table spoons olive oil
1 small onion, diced
2 garlic gloves, minced
2 carrots, chopped
2 small potatoes, cubed
2 celery stalks, chopped
1/2 bell pepper, diced
1 1-lb ham steak, cubed
7 cups stock
1 1-lb bag split peas, rinsed
2 bay leaves
2 teaspoons dried marjoram
2 teaspoons dried dill
salt and pepper to taste

Heat the olive oil in a big soup pot. I use a 5 liter stock pot. Add the onions and cook at a med-low temp until soft.
Then add the garlic, ham and bell pepper. Stir everything together and cook a few minutes, until all the flavors start to get to know one another.
Add stock, peas, bay leaves, marjoram, dill, salt and pepper. I'm pretty generous with the pepper on this one, especially fresh cracked. Grind liberally. Turn heat to low or simmer, put the lid on and let cook 1 - 1 1/2 hours. You can leave it longer too, at least an hour though for the peas to soften and the smell to fill your kitchen. Make sure to stir it a few times too.
Then add carrots, potatoes and celery. Cook another 30 - 45 minutes or until the veggies are nice and tender. Again, you could leave it a bit longer too, just make sure to let it bubble long enough for the potatoes to soften. You can blend it up a bit when it's finished if you prefer, but I like to leave it chunky. Gives it a sort of vegetable stew vibe. Serve steaming with heavily buttered bread. Delicious. Oh! And for my vegetarian friends (Hi Bess!) just leave out the ham and use vegetable stock or water and viola, vegetarian, no - vegan! split pea.

Enjoy.

About this blog

2009-09-23T06:54:00.000-07:00

Lichen is the symbiotic relationship between a fungus and an algae. It is also my name.

My dad gave me my first Nikon when I was 12 and I have had one ever since.

I started this blog as a place to showcase my photos. Over time it has grown into a diary of sorts, a story in the making. The birth of my son, Asa in March of this year has taken the blog in an obvious direction. These days there are lots of photos of him and lots of stories about my experience of motherhood. I don’t see that changing much any time soon.

In 2007 I married Angus.

Our life is anything but ordinary. Angus is a musician, traveling and touring with his band, BROTHER. I married into the rockstar life. As much as is possible Asa and I go along. We take long road trips together, we fly across the country together and we stay in all manner of accommodation along the way. This is not always easy, but remaining as a family is most important right now, so we make it work.

I love to cook, love to eat and love to piece together different recipes. I dabble in gardening, card making and scrap booking. My days are filled with washing cloth diapers, deciding what’s for dinner and learning Photo Shop, one tutorial at a time. Chances are, you’ll read about all of these things here at One Moment Captured.

Thanks for visiting,
Lichen.

Blue eyed boy

2009-09-21T13:20:00.000-07:00

Eyes so blue, like his grandmother, like his aunt. They're a surprise every time I see them.

They catch me off guard, these eyes like blueberries, eyes like sapphires. I don't expect them. Brown, perhaps, hazel most likely, even green. No mom, they're blue.

Blue like storming seas, blue like early winter mornings. Blue like my baby boy's eyes. Asa blue.

He takes his swinging seriously

2009-09-13T15:43:00.000-07:00

New Trick: Standing up in the crib

2009-09-12T06:36:00.000-07:00

Holy crap! Just last night I sat Asa down in his crib and this happen:

This was shocking, to say the least. Asa has loved being "stood up" on his feet for a while now, but it's always me doing the pulling. As of last night, around 7pm, he will do it himself, thank you very much.

It's like I blinked and he's mobile. He shimmies on his tummy now, comando style. He sits up sometimes, but usually ends up folded over his legs, trying to suck his toes. Once or twice now I have put him down, turned around for something, and turned back only to find him across the room sucking on my sandal. Kid is quick, thats for sure.

And now with the pulling up - cruising and walking can't be too far behind. This is a whole new ballgame and I have a feeling I am in for some long innings chasing after this one. Here we go...

New trick: Sitting up

2009-09-09T12:01:00.000-07:00

Introducing: New Tricks

The first in an ongoing series.

This installment is Sitting Up.

Trying something new

2009-09-09T09:15:00.000-07:00

A new template, a new format, a new blog. Welcome.

When he's gone

2009-09-05T10:07:00.000-07:00

When he’s gone, things are not quite right.

This old house takes on an eerie quiet, a sustained silence that’s unnatural. Even the walls know he is away and refuse to creak as usual. The floorboards and the stairs groan as I lumber up them, baby on one hip, dirty laundry on the other. But the groan is half hearted and weak, as if even these inanimate objects, these pieces of our home, protest his absence. I sigh my agreeance as I round the landing and head towards the washer.

In the morning I feel it the most, this strange lacking. The bed is enormous, comforters and blankets stretch for miles, and strain as I might I cannot take up enough room to make this bed feel full. There are big, gaping expanses of mattress all around me, empty places he should fill. I am swimming in pillows, tossing and turning on a sea of sheets, as dawn slowly rolls in. I hear Asa in his crib by the bed. Early morning grunts and squeaks, calling out to the new day. It’s time to abandon this too-big bed and get up.

Morning fades into afternoon. Hours filled with fighting for nap time and feeding rice cereal; dish washing and email checking. Mundane tasks linked together by my pacing feet. The day progresses, moving forward from 3 to 4 and 5 o’clock, but something is amiss, something is not quite right. The hollow tick of the clock in the kitchen is out of tune and out of synch. The coffee mug feels misshapen in my hand. Our day falters, unsure of it’s direction until we end up at night. Bedtime again and the crumpled expanse of bed lays before me, just as empty as when I left it this morning.

When he’s gone things are not quite right because we belong together. Because we are a family, a unit, a party of three. We were made for each other, the three of us, and things are only as they should be when we are as we should be – together.

But tomorrow, he comes home. And the world will be right again.

It rains so much....

2009-08-30T13:44:00.000-07:00

Up here in the mountains of the Northeast it rains. A lot. And this is coming from someone who grew up in Oregon. Especially during the spring and summer months. This year from May through most of August it rained at least three days of the week. And not just drizzly, wimpy rain. This is crashing thunder, exploding lighting rain. This is inches of water in just a couple hours rain. So much rain in fact that the puddles in the drive way became permanent fixtures. And not only that, they have become eco systems! The largest of the puddles had enough aquatic life to call it a pond. We even had frogs this year:

This one with the car is just for size reference. Not really that big of a puddle, but it's never empty.

Just this evening we saw a couple frogs hop away as we returned from our walk with Asa. It may be the mountains, but it's a jungle out here.

5 Months

2009-08-27T09:23:00.000-07:00

Dear Asa,

This has been a month of new tricks and new discoveries. You are becoming aware of your body - your tiny limbs and digits, your mouth and tongue - and using them all the time. You roll and stretch and kick and swing. You grab and taste and wiggle and throw. You are moving ALL THE TIME. It is constant, kicking and swinging your legs, tossing your arms, thrusting your tiny fingers this way and that. You wiggle while you're eating, you twist while I change and jump while in my lap. You want anything (and everything) to be in your hand so that it can then be in your mouth. If there is an object too big for your hand, you simply bring your mouth to it, slobbering it up nicely. Sometimes this results in a face plant on the floor as you desperately try to suck on a piece of the pattern on the carpet, but usually you don't mind. So long as you get a good taste of that bright red square.

(Or, in this case, one of dad's CDs)

You can balance yourself (only for a few moments though) with your arms out in front of you while you sit on the floor. It's not quite sitting, but it's close. And the surprised look on your face as you lean, a little too far to the left, tipping all the way over, all the while in the exact same sitting position, is just too funny. And funnier still is the fact that you suck in your bottom lip while trying to balance. You are tying so hard, with all the might you can muster, and sucking in that bottom lip really seems to help.

(sucking in that bottom lip)

(Mostly sitting)

Really what you'd prefer is to be on your tummy, doing the inch worm. It goes like this: You can get your head and shoulders up way off the ground, doing the mini push up with your palms on the floor. And you can get your knees up underneath your body, (sometimes even straightening them and adopting a sort of 'downward baby' pose). But you cannot do these two things at the same time. As soon as one end is up, the other is down, as if they, these two parts of your body, cannot exist in the same airspace at the same time. As your little butt shoots high up into the air, your head comes down, face buried in the carpet. Then, moments later, your butt is down, legs stretched flat again and your head pops right back up. Now with a cat hair stuck to the drool on your cheek. This repeats over and over (and over and over) until you have inched your way across the room. It looks extremely tiring, but you relish your new ability. Every third or fourth scootch you search the room, looking for someone to look back at you and acknowledge your achievements. Your dad and I sit near by, removing things from your path, and sometimes setting you on a new one entirely, cheering you on and watching you go.

(Downward Baby)

I'd say the biggest development of the month has been (ba dada da!) solid foods! You spent weeks looking longingly at my plate. Your eyes would dart from the bright green salad with those tantalizingly red tomatoes, to the inviting pile of golden yellow squash or mashed potatoes. You'd reach your little arm out, grabbing at the air but hoping to come back with something (anything!) from that plate. Your face would be all shock as you watch me bring a forkful to my mouth and chew. Amazed, you look for the food that has now disappeared. Then back to the plate for the next bite. You've also begun to get good and frustrated while at the breast. Grunting and clawing, you try and pull more milk down nearly every time we are finishing up a meal. This does nothing but upset you and aggravate me. So, while we were in Canada I gave you your first taste of apple. You were so desperate to get at that Fuji that I finally just gave it to you. You could hold it in your hand and press it against your face. Your little tongue flicked about, no doubt thrilled by it's sugary goodness. You played with that apple for at least an hour, gumming and licking, slobbering it up good. I don't think you actually ingested any, but got the taste for sure.

(delicious Fuji apple)

Next came peaches. The softer flesh appealed to you much more. You gnawed away at it, juices running down your cheeks, bits of peach smeared all over your body, for quite some time. To hold it in your hands, squeezing and squishing, was obviously such a joy to you. You brought it to your mouth over and over again until there really wasn't much left but some fuzzy skin, some peachy pulp and a pit.

(a very messy peach)

And now we have begun rice cereal. This has been different than the others and has taken a bit more work. Since this isn't something you can hold yourself, I have to feed it to you with one of those adorable plastic coated spoons. This does not appeal to you much as you would like to hold that spoon all by yourself thank you very much. But once the spoon gets to your mouth, loaded with that delicious gruel, you forget about grabbing and think only of tasting. At first you just pushed it around with your tongue, spitting most of it out and just sort of playing with the rest. But mommy persevered. After a few days of attempts you started to get the hang of it. Your little mouth would open in anticipation (mine open too as it is physically impossible not to do so), when the blue rubber end of that loaded spoon came near. With half of it in your mouth and half on your chin you'd let it in, push it around a bit with your tongue and - YAY! - swallow! After that first bite went down you finished the whole bowl (only two tablespoons of food, but c'mon, that's totally a lot) and then half of another. I was amazed. We've added one meal a day to your diet now, and usually it is cereal.

(Mom's view)

Every time you eat solid food your eyes light with excitement and I can hardly believe it. This is my tiny newborn here, my small 7 pound boy. Only it's not. It's this big baby, this little man. It's my growing son. You are no longer a spectator, you are a full time participant. You are in the game, scoring big points. You are a part of it all and only want more. It's true, it goes fast, and every single day, you are just a little bit bigger.

Love,
mom

Papa John's poppies

2009-08-26T11:03:00.000-07:00

This past winter my dad sent me a package with TONS of poppy seeds from his garden. They came in miniature manila envelopes, each individually marked and labeled by color - red, dark purple, pink, lavender and more. I scattered all the seeds in the front yard and the back garden just before the snow melted in March (as instructed). Papa John even brought more with him when he visited in May and planted them along the side of the house. I had visions of a front yard that was a field of poppies ala Wizard of Oz and large bunches of them in a rainbow of colors on the dining room table. But as luck (and my not so green thumb) would have it, not a single one flowered. None even grew higher than my ankles. I had given up on my poppies all together.

And not three weeks after resigning to a poppy-less yard, we returned from Halifax to these:

Now, it's no Wizard of Oz field, but the few we've had are just gorgeous. So delicate, the paper thin petals fall after only an afternoon's bloom.

These little beauties don't last long (and certainly wouldn't last on the dining room table) but they're a small gem in our yard.

Our Northern travels

2009-08-21T11:37:00.001-07:00

We are home now after two and a half weeks on the road and I am pleased to say we had a great time! We took three days driving up through Massachusetts and Maine, into New Brunswick and Nova Scotia Canada.

(picking flowers at a rest stop in New Brunswick)

It was a tight pack for us - what with dad's musical gear, clothes for two weeks and all the baby accoutrements. Asa just fit into the Tetris-ed in back seat.

(Can you spot the baby?)

Though we had toys galore ready for play, Asa mostly enjoyed a good chew on the seatbelt strap. He'd gnaw away at it, muttering to himself until he fell asleep.

Despite a few moments of unrest, the little man rode happily more often than not.

Halifax was a beautiful city to visit
(Even in the rain)

Dad played for 10 days at the International Busker's Festival

and in between shows we walked around town, up and down the harbor,
played in the hotel room,

and hung out with Uncle Drew.

We had such a great time on our adventure. Eating out and swimming in hotel pools, walking through the shops and watching the festival. It was a wonderful time. There are moments that are a lot of work, but we can have those moments anywhere, so why not on the road with dad? Already Asa is so well traveled and ready to roll with the punches. I am happy that this new family is so adaptable. To be able to be on the road with Angus is invaluable. And together, we keep rockin.

International baby

2009-08-08T13:05:00.000-07:00

Canada is officially Asa's first international destination. We arrived in Halifax, Nova Scotia just in time for his 19 week birthday after driving up the coast through Maryland and Maine. Asa was such a trooper through the whole car ride, amazing really. So far he is pretty much thrilled to nap in the giant bed or take in the sights from the stroller as we walk along the waterfront and watch dad play.

Sleeping in the car
Rest stop in New Brunswick

Hanging in the hotel room

New trick

More of our Canadian adventures to come...

4 months

2009-07-27T15:48:00.001-07:00

Dear Asa,

This month has been our most challenging yet. Difficulties for you that are, in turn, difficulties for your dad and I. I must admit that we've had a pretty smooth run thus far. Your birth was calm and peaceful and there were no complications. You ate well and slept even better. You barely even cried. And then, all of the sudden, things weren't so easy, you weren't so happy and I wasn't so confident. And really I think what was hardest of all was your dad's first long tour that took him away from us for 9 days. This compounded everything and made it harder for each of us - you without the comfort of your dad, me without his help and support and he without his dear little boy. Not at all easy for anyone. And add to that your first bout of teething and some pretty extreme tummy distress. What a combination, eh? But we made it and we'll never have to deal with that exact set of problems again. New ones, to be sure, but never this. And for that I am very glad.

Lets start with the big one - TEETHING. What a monstrous beast!! The pain and frustration of your emerging choppers is really the first great discomfort you've known. And boy did you let us know you were uncomfortable! During the worst of the teething days the only thing that would calm you was to be held, your back to my stomach, while walking up and down (and up and down and up and down...) the front porch. We spent hours and hours out there, pacing and watching the cars. I'm still not sure exactly what it is - the fresh air, the sound of the traffic, the bright sunlight - that fascinates you so, but it works. We spent entire days traipsing to and fro, rivers of your drool running down your chin and my arms, one of my fingers (and/or several of yours) being gnawed by your red and angry gums. Teething rings really didn't seem to offer you much relief (or me either, as I'd have to hand it to you over and over again. You're still getting the hang of holding things in your tiny, chubby fingers). We eventually found that a cold washcloth could soothe you for a bit (if my finger happened to be otherwise occupied). Thankfully, the teething wouldn't last more than a day, perhaps two, then the drool and the fever, the sleeplessness and the crankiness would subside. Only to rear it's ugly little head in a few days. But at least we had a little break, both you and I, before the wee beastie of teething returned.

On a much happier note, you now laugh out loud - and it is the very best sound these ears have ever heard. The first time it happened I had you on my lap, facing towards me and I started to sing. Now, usually your dad is the one doing most of the singing so I understood the quizzical look that passed over your face. As I continued my silly little jingle your eyes narrowed slightly and the corners of your mouth turned upwards. Then, all of the sudden, you threw your big mouth open wide and the tiniest belly laugh erupted from you. Giggle upon giggle spilled out as I finished my song and I will never, for as long as I live, forget that sound. Now you laugh regularly, especially when you are on the changing table. You delight in grabbing your toes and pulling them to your lips as soon as your diaper is off. Then I give your ribs a squeeze or your armpits a little poke and there it goes again - the little grunting laughter that bubbles out of your happy face. It's just the Best. Thing. Ever.

You have also discovered the joy, nay the euphoria, of jumping. There is delight in your eyes when you hop in the jumperoo, and pride that radiates from your tiny self when we "stand" you on your little feet. It is such a wonderful feeling to clap and cheer for you as you pound up and down, up and down. Your face sparkles with a cheek splitting grin that grows as you realize that we are rooting for you, that we are reacting to your powerful little jumps. This, of course, only makes you jump even more, followed by more squeals of delight from us, and, well - you see the pattern. Needless to say, you are quite pleased with this discovery, and so are we.

It is an amazing thing to see your strong body start to emerge, following an even stronger will. Your frustrations have started to diminish as you master the muscle, tendon and bone of your body. I watch you as you eye the toy - a brightly colored frog-like rattle from your friend Iand - near your head on the play mat. Your tiny limbs twitch, wanting to have this appealing little trinket. Your fat little fingers flex and your elbow extends. Eyes still on the goal you wrap your uncoordinated digits around your prize. Satisfaction lights your face as you turn around, just to make sure I saw. I did baby, I did. And I am so proud.

As much as this has been a trying time for me (for us?) it has also been one of learning. I know now that you prefer a wet washcloth to teething rings, that you love to watch the big, red fire trucks that drive down the street and that you want to be sitting up as much as possible. And the best part is, no matter what, we are in this together. We are on this path as a little team, a little family. We shift and move and help each other every day. We react and change, we learn and adapt. And no matter how hard it seems in any single moment there is always your little laugh, your tiny smile, your small self that is a constant reminder of just how blessed I am.

Love,
Mom

A walk in the park

2009-07-23T14:25:00.000-07:00

Last weekend this little family of three headed to the park (and brought the camera)...

And these last two I've wanted to post for a while now

On his quilt from Papa John and in his oh so hippie outfit from Cynthia

Hanging out in one of his new favorite toys - The Box. Gotta love the do it yourself vibe (and the super cool shirt, leg warmers and frog-like stuffed animal from our friends the Blakey's!)

Laugh out loud

2009-07-18T11:48:00.000-07:00

Asa laughs 7.17.9 from lichen richardson on Vimeo.

Picnic

2009-07-08T15:17:00.000-07:00

Last weekend we took Asa to a nearby campground for an afternoon picnic...

Angus shows Asa the creek
We thought we'd dip his toe in, see how he liked it...
...thinking about it...

...NO!

Mom and Asa watch the water

A family of three

Next time I think we'll pack a few bags, the tent and a sleeping bag and stay the night! It'll be our first (of many) camping trips with the little one and we can hardly wait. Pictures are sure to follow...

BIG smiles from a little boy

2009-07-06T17:04:00.000-07:00

BIG smiles from lichen richardson on Vimeo.

Is there such thing as too many pictures of your kid?

2009-07-05T14:04:00.000-07:00

No. I'm pretty sure the answer to that question is no. So here are a few more...

Talking on mom and dad's bed

With mom in the front yard

Laughing with dad

Lately this is the surest bet to soothe him - get him in the carrier and walk around the house and yard. He falls asleep almost immediately.

Fun with the play mat

In dad's hands

Teething. This could be a post unto itself - the trials and tribulations of teething. For now, I'll just leave this picture of him chewing on my finger (which is his new absolute favorite thing in the world).

Afternoon in the bouncer

Asleep in dad's arms

This last one is my very favorite picture yet. I just love looking at it. And I think the reason why I love it so much it that it looks exactly like my own baby pictures. I'm not sure why that is so damn satisfying, but it is. My kid looks like me. And I totally love it.

3 months

2009-06-30T13:30:00.000-07:00

27 June 2009

Dear Asa,

This month you have become a baby. My little newborn, with his unfocused eyes and tightly clenched fists, is gone. And in his place is this wonderful, chubby baby. Delicious rolls of fat have replaced your skinny thighs, and the roundness of your belly is very Buddha-esq. I delight in your bigness, your new you-ness. I look at you now, laying on your tummy, head held high, and you're so much more substantial. So much more aware and in charge. I didn't really notice it until it was gone, but a newborn baby is so very delicate, so fragile and small. Curled up and tucked in, they peek at the word from their mother's arms. But here beside me is a baby. You survey the entire room and lock onto something you like - usually something bright and flashy. You smile at me in the morning, and you laugh when I say "Hey!" in a deep, funny voice. You get frustrated when you try to roll over (you're almost there!) and you get bored when left too long with the same view. You are taking in everything in the whole, wide world, seeing it all for the very first time.

Your hands seem to be your favorite toy lately. In fact, they bring you great joy. You can go for quite some time on your own, perfectly entertained by your fingers. You chew and gnaw on them, alternating left and right, pushing them back as far as your gag reflex will allow (and sometimes farther) then pull them out of your mouth, strings of drool dripping, and eye them suspiciously. You check them out, as if to make sure these wonderful things are really truly yours, then, with utter delight, shove them back into your open mouth. More often than not the front of your shirts are completely soaked, one after the other we change you all day long. But the joy you have found is totally worth the extra laundry. Drool on little boy.

Something else comes with being such a big baby now - sleeping through the night. Now this is definitely something to celebrate! The first 8 weeks felt so erratic, with no up or down, no schedule, no real pattern. And then around 10 weeks this started to change. I noticed that you acted sleepy around the same time every morning, and you wanted to eat around the same time every night. And like magic, it began. You're up for the day around 7:30, eat a little brekky and it's time to play. You're all tuckered out by 9:30 when you sleep for about an hour. The day continues with a sort of two hours awake one hour sleeping pattern. No big sleeps during the day for you. It's almost like you're afraid you'll miss something, like you're worried something fantastic may go down when you close your eyes. So you cat nap through the day, short and frequent. And by 10pm you are ready to have a good long eat, and get swaddled up for the first long sleep of the night. On a good night you'll stay asleep until 4 or 5, eat, then go back to sleep until 7 or 8. This schedule business is a beautiful thing. So is five to seven hours of uninterrupted sleep!

You have also become quite the little traveler my love, and I am so proud of us all - you, your dad and I - for doing so well! You've stayed in hotel rooms and friend's houses, flown on planes and taken long car rides. You've been to Pennsylvania, New Jersey and California. Every time we head out I'm more confident, every time a little more sure of myself. It's such a wonderful thing to realize that my life is still what I want it to be - No, it's even better. Your father and I still live our lives the way we always have, flying or driving to shows, visiting friends, enjoying company, dinners out and glasses of wine. And now you're with us, you join the party. We're a "table for three", an unstoppable trio, a gang of our own. We are a family. We will have grand adventures, now with you by our side. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Love,
mom

Asa has a lot to say

2009-06-17T09:39:00.000-07:00

Asa talks from lichen richardson on Vimeo.

Sparkle

2009-06-17T09:37:00.000-07:00

Asa's grandfather

2009-06-13T06:23:00.000-07:00

Here's of video of my father, Papa John, from last summer. I have so many childhood memories that look just like this - summer time at a lake, river or quarry, my dad climbing up something, preparing to jump off. Seriously. Bridges, cliffs and, as seen here, trees.

Papa John from lichen richardson on Vimeo.

How many 67 year old men do you know that can do that?

I wonder if I'll take pictures of anything else ever again

2009-06-07T06:32:00.000-07:00

Now that Asa is here he is the only thing in my camera's viewfinder. I can't help it, it just happens. Every time I pick up the camera it turns to him. Every moment seems like it's just begging to be captured. Every day something new to record....

His first night in the bassinet. The very same bassinet that I slept in, one that's been in the family four generations now (see Sheryl!).

Steve surveys the scene

Being so big is tiring business

So big! Lifting that head all the time now (and only occasionally slamming that face back into the ground. Ouch.)

A lovely sweater to match the eyes (thanks Cynthia!)

Laughing and laughing. This is my absolute favorite thing in the whole wide world. That little sound gets me every time. Tiny chuckles spilling out of this happy little boy. Perfection.

Two months

2009-05-31T08:35:00.001-07:00

May 27, 2009

Dear Asa,

We're unfolding this month lovie, you and me both. Suddenly, we're mobile. We go to the store, and the post office. We're learning to run errands. We've even flown across the country! Your very first flight was this month, from Albany Ny to Los Angeles Ca. And I have to admit it, I was scared. I can hardly define the nervousness that I felt. I think I was visibly shaken when we got to our quiet local airport (one that we've flown out of many times, never ever having waited in one single line) to find a string of people down the entire length of the terminal. There were more people there at 5am on a Wednesday that I ever could have imagined. What's worse is that your dad wasn't even booked on our flight! He was scheduled to head out later in the day, meaning that you and I would have to tackle the whole day of travel by ourselves. With a 38 minute layover at Newark Airport. I felt uncertain, stressed and totally uptight. And you know what? It was all for nothing. You were a doll, and absolute joy.You smiled at doting flight attendants, slept more than half the way and barely made a peep. And we even got to fly with your dad, making it all the better. Having him to support me was what made the difference I think. Just knowing that he was on our team, ready to help us in any way that he could - glaring at nearby passengers if they made rude remarks, holding our hands during take off, digging through bags for pacifiers and diapers. We made it to LA together without any trouble at all.

Our time in LA was idyllic. We stayed a little over a week with Cynthia and her family and it was a dream. We often remarked that it was the perfect summer vacation. Lillian, now 5 and a half, played with neighborhood kids, Harry, one and a half, split his time between following his sister and his mom, and little Althea, just three weeks older than you, sat, smiled and slept happily by your side. What friends you will have in those kids and what joy I take in knowing that. Throughout most of my pregnancy I imagined this very scenario - sitting in the sunny back yard, sipping wine, chatting and laughing with one of my dearest friends in the world, while you lay happily beside me soaking in the sun with her youngest daughter. Two little babies and two happy mommies, passing the time exactly as they wanted. It was just perfect.

(Lillian)

(Harry and the watermelon)

(Althea and Asa)

Every day I watch you emerge, watch you unfold and stretch into yourself. Your eyes - still navy blue but now with a brighter ring around the pupil - focus on me clearly now. They catch me as I float across your field of vision, smiling down at you from this motherly height. There's a moment of concentration, a pause and a slight furrow of the brow, and then the synapses fire, the message clicks, and you realize it's me, mom, and the dreamiest smiles spread across your face. Mouth open wide, showing pink toothless gums, lips upturned at the corners, buried into sweet, round cheeks. It is a heavenly moment, a superb burst of joy every time.

You've been full of noises these past few weeks as well. Grunts, squeaks and squawks of all sorts. Short bursts of throaty groans, high pitched squeals, angry cries that get you so worked up you are snorting with frustration. Most of your noises are ones of happiness though, and you often look your dad and I right in the eye when you cackle and screech. Needless to say, we chatter right back. This early communication astounds me. You already have things to say, opinions to express and requests to make. I listen and wonder what you're thinking, wonder what this interaction means to you. I listen and I hang on every syllable.

(Strawberry blond boy)

Your personality is climbing out, letting it's presence be known and I see it. I see you in there. A little person, a little human being, unfurling his leaf-like limbs and joining the world. And I am here, unfolding myself, changing and adapting, learning and growing into the mother I want to be. Together we greet the wide, wide world.

Love,
mom

Papa John's visit

2009-05-16T09:13:00.000-07:00

Papa John's first visit to New York - what better reason to visit the Big Apple than the birth of your first grandson?

Laughing with Papa John

On our first hike

Smiling in his sleep

Laughing with dad

Asa plays now with Papa John, the two of them quite interested in one another. They smile and laugh together as I sip my coffee and look over the photos from the last week.

What a treat it is to have my dad in town. It feels me with unimaginable pride to introduce my father to my son and to watch them spend the first of many, many happy moments together.

One month

2009-04-27T19:35:00.000-07:00

(As much as I love this idea I cannot claim as my own - I totally copied it from Dooce.com Ever since I first saw her blog I loved that she wrote her daughter a letter every month to tell her what she's been up to and what life was like for those four weeks. Now that Asa is here I feel more than ever that I want to be in the moment with him, that I want to remember every smile, every diaper, every precious second that I hold him to me. I have raced through most of my life thus far. Speeding through childhood to be a teenager then skipping that unceremoniously for the wild world of adulthood. I've rushed relationships, jobs, even this pregnancy. And now, now I want to slow it all down. Now I want to be there, truly be there, for every moment I can. So, that is why I'm going to white letters too, every month to my son. Starting now, with month number one)

Dear Asa,

Asa. Asa, Asa. Your name is still so new, so foreign on my tongue. And yet it slips out of my mouth as if lived there for ever. Much like you - your warm body, your searching eyes, your lips that just learned to smile. It's all so brand new, so novel, so fresh. And yet some part of you has lived in my soul for as long as I can remember. It's as if my heart has been holding a space for you for all of my twenty-four years, reserving the most special of chambers for the immense quantities of love that I have for you. It is a chamber without walls, for my heart swells to infinite proportions to encompass this love, to hold all that you are within it.

You are one month old today, already so very big. 8.5 lbs big, 20.25 inches big. A mighty little man. This month has been one of small miracles that feel larger than life. Just over four weeks ago I thought I was doomed to be pregnant forever, each morning waking up, feeling larger than when I fell asleep. Each day waiting for some pang, some sign that you were coming, that you were on your way. And then one night it just happened. A tightening of the stomach, an aching of the abdomen in rhythmic waves. A pressure in my belly. Contractions. 10 pm they began on March 26th, your due date. We stayed at home as long as possible as I waited for them to progress. I was in and out of the bath, sipping wine, walking our halls and gripping bed posts as your father diligently counted the minutes and seconds. "OK!" I'd shout from down the hall. He'd watch the clock as I breathed heavily, not in pain truly but struggling through this very new sensation none the less, until I sighed with relief "It's done". At 3am we called the midwife and headed to the birth center. This was it, we were on our way, and so were you. We drove in the dark silence of early morning that is more like the middle of the night. I continued to breathe and found it hard to do anything but as the contractions washed over me in waves that were increasingly close together. Your father managed to get us there in less than 40 minutes - usually a nearly hour long drive. And it's a good thing he did too. When the nurse checked me at the birth center I was already 9 cm dilated and closing in on 10. Fast. I gripped the rails of the bed as the nurse prepared the room for delivery. I was in such an altered state at this point, so far beyond the realms of reality, that I was hardly aware of her movements, or anyone else's for that matter. I hit a wall and had to push, I was conscious of nothing except your father's voice and Julie, the midwife. The most intense sensations I could ever fathom, somewhere near pain, bordering on unbearable and most certainly out of this world, I breathed and breathed and pushed and pushed. Before I knew it I was aware of your little body moving through me, slipping out of your warm cocoon and into this world. Three pushes and you rushed right in, no time for waiting - you were here! Fifty-five minutes after arriving at the hospital your life outside the womb had begun. March 27th, 2009. Complete and utter awe ensued. And continues to this very moment.

You father rocks you gently beside me. Your eyelids slide slowly over your still blue eyes (I wonder what color they will be?). You are happy, sleepy, peaceful in your dad's embrace. I fall in love with him all over again watching him become your protector, your teacher, your guide. His love for you is palpable. It emanates from him in waves, shimmering in that darkness as he keeps me company during the 4am feeding, radiating in the sunshine as he changes your diaper for the third time in as many minutes. His devotion is complete. He is father. He is dad. And he is yours.

I thank you today, for choosing me to be your mother. I have never been so honored, so blessed in such a thing. I accept this challenge with every bit of me, every scrap of my being. I promise to love you wholly and truly without exception, without question. I promise to give you all that I can, all that I have. I promise to improve myself for your benefit, I promise to be everything that I can, to help you to be everything that you are.

You are new, and so am I, so is this mother that I have become. Every day is one more under the belt, one more a shared experience of learning. And every day I am more certain of this new role I have accepted.

Love,
Mom

First hiccups (outside of the womb)

2009-04-23T11:36:00.001-07:00

From about 6 months on during my pregnancy Asa had the hiccups at least once a day. Turns out that doesn't change much after delivery. He still gets the hiccups at least once a day. They don't seem to bother him much, and they still make be giggle.

Asa's first hiccups from lichen richardson on Vimeo.

First days home

2009-04-06T12:49:00.001-07:00

We are home. With our son. OUR SON. That is an incredible statement. One that continues to fill me with wonder and joy.

Watching my husband become a father is one of the most heartbreakingly beautiful things I could imagine.

This week we have four generations in this house.

Aunt
Grandmother
Great-Grandmother

At least 500 times a day I pinch myself. Can this be real? Can I be this lucky, this blessed? Then I look into my son's navy blue eyes and know that I'm not dreaming.

Our son is here

2009-03-31T15:30:00.000-07:00

Asa Allen Murray Richardson
March 27, 2009 4:55 am
7lbs 11oz 20 inches long

I am still (and imagine I will forever be) overwhelmed with love and joy. My heart swells to infinite proportions as I gaze into the eyes of my son. So this is heaven....

Last photo of his first home

Moments after birth
Father and son

Taking in the world

Snacking

Big yawns for the little man

Life with mom and dad

Proof

2009-03-23T14:48:00.001-07:00

I somehow managed to paint my toenails last week - I still can't really believe the laws of physics would allow. But here you have it, undeniable proof!

As the belly grows

2009-03-12T18:13:00.001-07:00

Well, here we are at the end of this pregnancy and the beginning of the next journey - parenthood. How the time flies....

I decided to put this up now, as it seems we could have this baby at any moment. The midwife and doctor have both recommended moving the original due date of April 1st to March 26th (whatever that really means) due to all these "prelabor signs" (again, what does that mean?). So, fingers crossed, here we go.
13 weeks
15 weeks
17 weeks
19 weeks
21 weeks
23 weeks
24 weeks
26 weeks
28 weeks
30 weeks
32 weeks
34 weeks
36 weeks

With our new due date I'm about 38 today....and counting. We shall see when this little one comes.

The snow is melting!

2009-03-08T09:49:00.000-07:00

I think it's spring. Or, at least, it's very close. I have never been more thankful for the sunshine, for temperatures above 50 degrees, for flower buds and shoots of green. It's a miraculous sight after all the consuming whiteness of SNOW.

(double click for larger image)

The baby's room

2009-01-31T18:49:00.000-08:00

Even though the new little one won't be spending much time in here until he or she's a bit older, it's been fun to paint and decorate and set up furniture in the extra room down the hall. We certainly have the space, so why not fill it with lovely baby stuff?

This is the fantastic (albeit VERY difficult to build) dresser/changing table that was a gift from our wonderful friend Kim (Hi Kimmy!). It is a spectacular addition to the room and I absolutely love it. I think at some point in the future I will paint something on it, though I haven't quite figured out what yet...

All the packs of tiny little clothes. They hardly fill one and a half drawers.

New additions to the tree. Our friend Drew had mentioned that he though the tree had a "creepy feel" to it, what with all the witch-finger-like branches and the stark design. So I've added a few blue birds to lighten the mood a bit. I think I'll end up adding even more as I really like the airy playfulness it brings to the wall. (Hint - you can double click any image to view it larger, all the better to check the details with.)

In keeping with the bird theme we have going I pasted a bunch of pictures of birds from old children's books that I bought at the local thrift store. I still have some work to do on this part, but I'm really liking the idea. I especially like the antique-ish pages from some of the books.

This last addition I really like. It reminds me of my dad and all the butterfly hunting we used to do. He still wears a butterfly pin that we "caught" with our homemade net on the brim of his hat. Monarchs are his favorite and I must say I really like the way this one turned out.

More to come, including an actual baby!