Friday, March 12, 2010
Friday, March 5, 2010
11 months
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.
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...
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?)
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.
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
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
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Sunday, February 7, 2010
10 months
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.
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.
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
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
Friday, January 8, 2010
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
9 months
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.
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.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Another new trick: Playing the didgeridoo
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.
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