Hugs, kisses and eskimos

These days...

...we walk out of the house in the morning to start the day. Her tiny hand in mine. She proudly carries her Wonder Woman lunch box. Her tiny feet go down our front steps with such growing confidence. It warms my heart and bittersweetly reminds me how quickly this whole growing up thing happens.

...I go to work, and in between patient visits I drive around blasting music (currently Adele's "21"), get coffee, run errands with ease (read: toddler free). I get to feel the feeling of freedom which is so much sweeter now that I am a mom. 

...I pick her up from day care and the hassles of the working day evaporate as she yells "Mommy!" and comes running towards me. At the end of every work day all I want to do is go get her and so it brings an element of feeling quite rushed. I hate being away, yet feel so grateful that she is having this time learning to be away from me. 

...hugs, kisses and eskimos [eskimo kisses] is how we say goodbye to each other, whether bedtime, daycare or whatever. 

...bedtime is smooth sailing, hardly needing a prompt. Bath, pajamas, teeth, pick out some books. Hugs, kisses and eskimos. A glass of water. Then she'll say "G'night!" thirty times. Daddy reads her a book before she goes to bed. Never a fuss anymore. All of that hard baby stuff sort of went away....

...we drink tea together at her little toddler table.

...we eat popsicles on the porch, facing the western setting sun.

...we stroll through the neighborhood. We talk to the neighbors. We point out planes and trucks and birds.

...we ride bikes through the park.

,...we walk to meet Daddy at the bus stop.

...our hearts are full of love, truly.

And of course, FASHION FRIDAY!!!!

tank top: Old Navy
Shirt: Blue Canoe
Skirt: Gymboree
Pants: Kumquat organic
Shoes: Children's place
Hat: Old Navy
Lunchbox: WONDER WOMAN!!

That darn rabbit.

I don't know why I have such a problem with Easter. Okay, not a problem, but a confusion. I don't know how to approach it with the newest human in the family, my daughter. For me growing up it meant Christ's resurrection, Sunday church, a new dress, easter baskets, candy hunts and some really great food with the family. But the thing is, my religious philosophies have evolved so much and I just don't know how I feel about the whole Jesus-resurrected-from-the-dead-on-this-day thing, and more importantly, I don't get how a freaking easter BUNNY became involved. Furthermore I don't like the idea of giving a bunch of chocolate and candy to my daughter who is not even 2!

Conundrum.

I'm not a party pooper. I KNOW that kids love to look for easter eggs. I know they LOVE CANDY. I know that there is something very, very special about an excuse to have a great meal with your family. I don't like to get into my religious views on this blog but I'll just say that I believe in something: something beautiful and loving and manifested in all the beauty around me. Something that can bring tears to my eyes. And that something is how I see God, which has nothing to do with the bible.. Ellie doesn't know about Jesus. If she wants to then I'll tell her he was a very wise teacher that lived a long time ago. That I really do believe. The rest of the Bible details, like rising from the dead, well I can't explain these things with any sort of confidence. So it feels wierd to celebrate that. It makes me kind of uncomfortable.

My resistance to old Christian beliefs is probably a moot point anyway because Easter in this day and age doesn't seem to be about religion, more bunny and candy. Which just feels kind of silly. And again, WHY THE BUNNY?? I suspect Hallmark really got it's claws into that holiday.

HOWEVER, having said all that, we did have a lovely Easter. We had brunch and my inlaw families all came over. I hid easter eggs in the backyard and filled them with stickers and a jelly bean. And it was AWESOME to watch their excitement as they tried to find those eggs. It was so cute and fun and I GET why people like to do this. It was exciting for everyone involved.

With Ellie's young age and the newness of my family I suspect that these sort of ritualistic conundrums will keep popping up. We are now the makers of tradition. The experiences we continue to provide for Ellie are how she will form her understanding of the holidays. So for me and Mike, we would like Easter to be about this:
Family
A celebration of things that have died returning to life. For us, that's Spring.
Nature
And yes, an easter egg hunt.

I was sort of off the hook this year because Ellie doesn't get it. But one day I'm going to have to explain that darn rabbit.

I am an extended breastfeeder.

There, I said it.

This was certainly not in my grand mothering plan. Originally I set my goal at 6 months. But it got easy. It got to be routine. Now Ellie is 23 months old and we still continue to have several times throughout the day when it's her, me, and tata. She loves that tata so. Tata can take the most stressful, challenging moment and miraculously flip into into deep breaths, a calm body, and lots and lots of sucking. The tatas are powerful. And convenient! With the help of the tatas I can take my child out to a nice restaurant, talk to a patient or a doctor on the phone,  and easily help a tired child return to the land of sweet slumber.

I get embarrassed sometimes. I know watching a child who can talk in (short) sentences nurse at her mother's teet is a bit strange. Seeing the legs of a nearly 3 foot toddler dangle over the edge of my lap surely brings with it some looks. I know that my own mother had her breasts bound after only a week of breastfeeding me.  That was "normal" then...a week!

We were in Bozeman, MT a few weeks ago and were invited to a lovely dinner with my aunt and her husband. As we waited to be seated Ellie had one of her tata fits, and I, not wanting to have a screaming toddler, let her. So I nursed her in the lobby with my coat covering her head. When we were done she moved the coat, looked me square in the eyes and said "Tank you." I mean, sweet, right? And maybe a little old? Anyway when we were eating our dinner a mom came up to my table and personally thanked me for nursing my toddler in public. It made me feel very proud and yet also a little emotional. She was like a little Kellymom angel sent from extended breastfeeding heaven, letting me know that I was alright in my decisions to keep the tatas flowing. I wanted to thank her for acknowledging me, for giving me props for doing what is so instinctual now. I wanted to thank her for helping me have courage to not listen to society and do what feels right for me and my daughter. I wanted to say so many things to her. Instead I just said "right on" and smiled. (Let this be a reminder that even small good deeds can have a lingering effect)

The truth of the matter is that I don't know how to stop. I don't have it IN me to listen to the gut wretching pleas. Frankly I don't know why I should stop something that makes my daughter so calm, so able to re-center herself. When she comes home from day care she is a wreck. She screams and whines and is so inconsolable. She wants the tata and frankly, I want to give it to her. I want that quiet, peaceful moment that the two of us get to share, where we get to reconnect from a long day apart. She loves it and I love it. It is such tenderness.

I won't say I love it all the time. I don't love the constant tata requests when I'm trying to do other things, like cook dinner, and the temper tantrum that ensues when I don't give in. I don't like that she is worse than a teenage boy in her attempt to get her hands down my shirt and squeeze and pull the other nipple. I don't like her waking up in the middle of the night pleading for tata. (I really don't like that.) I don't like that I am not able to just snuggle with her in bed or on the couch because by assuming that position she thinks tata is coming and becomes fixated on it. I don't like when I'm talking to a friend in public and she pulls down my shirt and tries to fish out a tit. No, I don't like that at all. And I don't like the overall state of my boobs ( but I surely won't get into that!)

I don't want her to need tata and sometimes I worry that she relies on it too much. I feel pressure from myself, society, and Mike, to end this chapter of breastfeeding. But it never feels like the right time. The idea of forcing it to all end seems stressful and sad to me. Those tantrums! Those pleading, tear-soaked requests! I'm not made of steel!

HOWEVER, I do see that things are changing....naturally. She is easily distractable if I don't want to nurse. When we do nurse I can put her on for a minute (or less!) on each side and then ask her to say bye bye to tata. "Bye bye tata" she says, along with a cute little wave and she's ready to move on. (I know how wierd that looks to judgmental eyes). Daddy puts her to bed at night and she no longer needs tata to get to sleep. She's getting over it, slowly, on her own terms.

I just looked at some of my digital pictures from last year, literally ONE YEAR ago and I am blatantly reminded how quickly things change. She was a little baby. She was a crawling, chubby, happy baby. And now she is a full blown toddler with hair and words and different needs. Next year she will be even bigger and soon she'll be in school and college and having babies of her own. So I don't think it's so bad to want to linger with our sweet little moments together. I don't think I'm causing irreparable damage. I think she is a great, solid, well adjusted child. Soon enough we'll be done with the tata chapter and this will all be a fuzzy memory.

Breastfeeding well into toddlerhood is extremely common in most of the world. Not here. So though I sometimes wrestle with my own desire to fit into societal norms, I will never deny my natural inclinations as a mother.

The mom stuff will always win.

Why I can't get my hand stuck in the proverbial cookie jar.

Being accountable for things is good; it keeps you honest. I used to think this back in my bachelorette days when I'd have roommates. One roommate was good because you were both accountable. Three was bad because the true offender of leftover dishes and qtips on the floor could be any of the three. (If it was the q-tips it was likely me, because of my addiction, which you don't know about).

Nowadays my accountability is different. With myself and my husband being the only two people above 3 feet in the house, I can tell you my heart sinks a little when I ask Mike, "you had some of those carmels, right". And then he didn't and you realize that you ate nearly the whole bag. But then remind Mike (and yourself) that they've been IN THERE FOR TWO WEEKS SO EAT EM OR LOSE EM SUCKER!

I also have been doing the terribly geeky and probably annoying to the masses facebook crime of posting my runs on facebook. This way all 534 of my friends get to see how many miles per hour I run and where because OBVIOUSLY EVERYONE GIVES A SHIT. And for the record my friend count was 535 last week so SOMEONE UNFRIENDED ME! Who? Who doesn't want to know my running stats, c'mon! Anyway this new genius app Runkeeper and this facebook accountability has gotten my carmel-eating-ass in much better shape so I'm sorry facebook friends, the accounability must live on. Feel free to unfriend me. Or get me back by doing some stupid Farmville game and litter my newsfeed with requests for chickens and barns or whatever. 

I like being accountable for things. It keeps me motivated. And so when I go for a run and my phone becomes bogged down with all of the apps I put on it and I literally have to actively restrain myself from hurling the piece of crap into oncoming traffic I realize the power that accountability has over me. When my husband innocently calls to ask about what to get at the grocery store when I'm mid-run and I snarl at him because his call interrupted my RunKeeper app then maybe, well, I go overboard with things. That's me. I'm not perfect, but damnit, I'm accountable!

How do you reason with a toddler? And fashion friday.

How do you reason with a toddler? This is the question I have been beseeching myself all morning. Guys, it has been ROUGH. She has absolutely no idea in hell what she wants. Crying and fussing and full blown tantrums all morning. It's making me want MY mommy.

She wants "cerio" (cereal) so I pour it. "NO!!!!! E [Ellie] do!" 

I let her pour more in. The bowl is to the top with cereal. No more cereal, Ellie.

 "NO!!!!!!! MORE CERIO!!!!!!!! MORE CERIO!!!!!"

pause.

"Pingu???" 

No Ellie we are eating right now. No Pingu.

"PINGU!!!!!!!" 

Do you want to pour the milk on your cereal?

"NO!!!!! PINGU!!!!!"

I pour the milk.

"NOOO!!!! E  DO!!!!!!!!!!!"

She grabs the cereal in frustration. She is SO FRUSTRATED!!!!

I get it first, I know where that is headed. 

Do you want to put the bananas on? 

"NO!!! NO NANAS!!!!!"

I open the banana and set it down.

"NO!!! E DO!!!!" 

Ok, go ahead. 

"NO!!!!!!!!! MOMMY DO'!!!!!"

"MOMMY!!! PINGU!!!!!!!!!!!!! NO NANA!!!!!!!!"

"TATA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

And we go on. There is no reason. There is no right way in her eyes. She is TORE UP this morning!

I feel close behind.

Sweater: LiaMolly from Anthropologie (I just LOVE the little owl in the pocket)
Dress: Old Navy
Shirt: Osh Kosh
Leggings: Target
Legwarmers: Zoots
Shoes: Coasters
Hat: Gap

Who are you?

Without the goals you are working towards
Without the title behind your name
Without the laptop hiding your face
Who are you?

Who are you
without the people that you love
without the routine in your day
without the strength in your muscles?

Who remains?

When I first became a hospice nurse we did an exercise in orientation where we wrote down the top 5 characteristics that meant the most for us on 5 separate pieces of paper. We could have written anything, so long as it was important to us. Then slowly the instructor meandered through the room and took a couple of those things away. He took away my sense of humor. He took away my determination. He asked that we then pick the ONE thing that meant the most to us. I picked my health. Then he took it away. And even though it was a game, it made me very uncomfortable, even a little angry.

This is what it is like for someone who is dying. Everything they have built to define themselves slowly becomes stripped away: their usefulness, their ability to engage in meaningful conversation, their ability to take care of themselves. Death is not pretty, no. And though it's introduction can be presented in a myriad of ways, it is a fate that not a single one of us can escape.

And so when we are all at our last moment,

who are we?

What remains when the arduously constructed box of "this is me" starts to fade away.

Someone is still there. Who?





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lately

One of my favorite parts about spring is how all of the neighbors head OUT. Suddenly there is a world of activity just sitting on the front porch. We live in, what I believe is, an extra awesome neighborhood with all sorts of great people as neighbors. And now all of the these fun neighbors have new children. Last week the neighbor twins stopped by to play with Ellie, followed by the boy across the street, followed by the new baby at the end of the block, all tagged along by parents. I sat there on my stoop and thought my GOD how do we KNOW so many children! My parentless self would have been crawling in her seat. My how life changes. 

It is April 2011. This is what's up.

• Chalk. Chalk on the sidewalk. Chalk on the house. Chalk on the planters. Chalk on the patio chairs.
• Words. [This is a frequent conversation] "Mommy poops?" ("Yes, mommy poops, Ellie). "Daddy poops?" (Yes, Daddy poops). "Gabby poops?" (Yes, Gabby poops). "Lala poops?" "Nannie poops?" And on and on and on...
• Exploring. And writing with more chalk. 
• Lots of outdoor fitness and fun.
• Excitement. Every day I wake up and get excited to open the windows. Each morning there are new trees that have burst open. The birds are singing. The weather is warm! Life, again, seems to be teeming with possibilities. 

Spring is so cool like that.

This is Daddy's drawing. And for the record, I wear a size 9 shoe. THAT'S NOT THAT BIG!!!

That smile simply melts my heart.

beautiful

Step away from the wall and put the chalk where I can see it.

Hiking in Boulder. 

Ellie and her posse.

SPRING!!

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Moving forward and looking back.

Sometimes I miss things. I miss certain people. I miss beautiful moments. Last night I dreamt about someone from my past, a very involved dream that was so darn real, and I woke up sad with the feeling of missing.

Missing is such a strange thing. Even if you were reconnected with the one that is missed you would be changed, the relationship would be different. We are in a constant state of evolution. We can never go back and recreate events that happened in the past, yet is seems to be the human condition to long for them. I suffer from this from time to time even though I hold a greater knowing of the bigger picture. Sometimes I think I find a strange comfort in missing, as if the act of missing breathes life into that which is no longer there. 

This world moves forward, always forward. Today I am reminding myself to appreciate all of the blessings that are around me right now. My home, my daughter, my husband, the job that I do, the blossoms on the trees, the warm air, the mountains in my horizon. These are my blessings and I am grateful. As for the feeling of missing, I will let myself miss. I will take a glorious moment to remember someone that I miss. I will take that feeling of melancholy and let myself feel it. Tears, a sad song, a quiet moment of reflection. Then I will smile, thankful for the experience. Thankful for that beautiful person.

The world is not always bright and rosy and maybe that's why we miss people: to let us touch upon a sadness, reminding us that there is so much to feel.

Fashion Friday

My sweet little cowboy girl. 

Shirt: Children's Place, spring '11 collection
Jeans: Old Navy
Shoes: Run Kai Run
Hat: $1 bin at Gymboree
Sock Monkey: made by aunt "Day" (Kay)

Be there.

Sometimes there are things that happen in your life that mark a shift in who you are.
When I was 28 years old my father died. It was a terrible time in my life. I was living in California when he passed, knowing he was sick, putting off getting back home. I always thought there'd be time. Time to say everything I wanted to say. Time to watch him gracefully lose his battle with cancer. Time to hold hands. But I didn't get the timing right. My father passed away in Maine. I received the phone call in California. I rushed home, sobbing in the airport, was at his house by nightfall. I remember crawling into his bed, the bed he slept in the night before. Overwhelmed. I had never felt that deep, cavernous grief before. My heart was just so overcome with sadness. Sadness and guilt. Why was I not there? Why was I not physically there to show my dear, sweet father how much I loved him?

Through the years I've healed much, but it has taken time and I'm changed because of it. I'm okay now. I've integrated that grief into my life. It has morphed into gratitude for the great dad he was, and sometimes it is a very sad moment of reflection. But always there has been guilt. The wish to go back in time and BE THERE. 

So when my aunt (father's sister) emailed me that my Grandma was sick, very sick, it was with every piece of my being that I knew I had to see her. I am not very close to my dad's mother. She lives in Montana and we just don't talk much; we never have. But I learned a lesson from my father in the importance of seizing a moment. I wanted her to meet my daughter, my daughter that never got to meet my dad. I knew that staring at the face of the woman that gave birth to my dad would bring up some ghosts, and it did. I missed those ghosts. I missed the uncanny maneurisms and facial structures shared by both my father and grandma. It made me remember him. 

I was impressed with how well the last minute trip to Bozeman, Montana worked out. I received the email around midnight and by the next day at noon me, Mike and Ellie were driving the Subaru north, excused from work to go take care of what needed to be done. The smooth transition only supported my notions that we were doing the right thing by making the emergency trip. 

My Grandma is doing (surprisingly) better. She is quite sick but a recent course of antibiotics has helped her rally. She started on hospice and I was able to meet with her hospice nurse. I was able to spend some quality time with my Grandma and my aunt. I was able to relate to these two important people as not only the daughter of John, but as an adult who has worked her own way in the world. It filled me up to watch my Grandma's fascination with Ellie. With my aunt it was like reconnecting with an old sister. We have so much in common from our very unique hair types to the things that we love to do and that fill us up. We watched old videos. We shared stories. We laughed. We fought back tears as my aunt and I remembered stories about my dad. Our families connected. For me I felt like I was plugged back into the life of my father. 

I can't go back and change the events of the past. But I can hold hands with the lessons that I've learned. Life is short and unexpected. You can't count on tomorrow so don't wait for it. BE THERE. These past few days I feel like I got part of my family back. And I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that it would have made my father immensely happy.