clove's corner

tired, clumsy

2012-02-22T17:20:00.001-07:00

My brain feels like mush. I just want to post a bunch of pics and call it good. I feel tired, clumsy, dull, pale, unshowered. Last month I could hardly contain myself, creativity bursting from every pore. But this week...oh, my. Maybe it's these 4:00am mornings. Today at a play group a woman held her almost-crawling baby and when I asked "How old?" she said, "Four and a half" and I asked, "Months?" Oooh, my. Maybe that's a little better than last play group, when I hopped in my husband's truck and drug a 100 foot yellow extension cord and a horseshoe--um, the horseshoe *used to be* attached to our garage wall--7 miles down the highway. (I was wondering why that UPS truck didn't pass me....) After play group today, a bottle of our salad dressing flew out of my hand, shattering oily glass all over the kitchen floor. Juniper kept saying, "Mommy did an uh-oh! Mommy, you wanna do another uh-oh?" (You know we've made progress in our house when Juniper calls a shattered bottle of oily salad dressing an "uh-oh" and not an "oh shit!" High five, please?)

Creativity is a bit like parenting: all giggly rainbows one day, followed by the dark underbelly of exhaustion, poor decisions and self-doubt the next. But whatever I've been lacking in imagination, my firstborn has not.

Perhaps you thought Santa Claus returned to the North Pole after his Christmas day flurry. You were wrong. Turns out, Santa Claus hunkered down in our quilt rack for a spell, then reemerged in Juniper's care. Santa gets fed, goes for walks, hides in the teepee, gets his (or her--it varies) diaper changed, drinks milk, gets burped and sleeps with Juniper every night. Santa is...a quilt. My great-grandmother's lap quilt, to be specific. (I dug out the hat myself, making it official.)

J bug choose her outfit on this day. Notice the shirt, skirt and tights are all pink? It happened sooner than I anticipated, the pink obsession. More on that in a future post. In the meantime, we made playdough (click here for recipe).

Once she realized what we were making, she ran with it. Her imagination took hold and she went bonkers, all talking to herself and stuff.

She started with the edibles: cookies and muffins, placing them in tins and running them over to her oven.

^Fine tuning the temp.^

When I sat down to nurse Hazel, J bug turned around and informed me that she had made a buffalo, an octotpus and a triceratops. You go, girl.

::Young Hazel Iris, too, has been coming into her own. I keep talking about her irrisistable smile, her soft, mourning-dove coo. But damn, that smile's hard to capture. For every photo you see here, I've probably deleted twenty. Thing is, Hazel's smile is nearly always accompanied by a head shake, flapping wings and kicking feet. The girl gets excited. At night (actually, the wee hours of morning) she lifts both legs high into the air and THWACK! She tail-slaps the bed...over and over and over again. My man has started calling her "Thumper".

Two things I love: milk tongues and baby feet.

And the one newborn body movement that makes me oogle with love and almost (almost) want another kid: The Scrunch. That arched-back, tucked-legs, clenched arms, fists, eyes, mouth--sometimes a single fisted arm juts out like a superhero--I love the scrunch. I could devour the scrunch. Now that Hazel is 3 (three!) months old, her scrunch has nearly vanished--stretching into the open limbed, wide-eyed posture of babyhood. The fourth trimester is over.

:: The first known relaxation drug of humankind:

:: Juniper has been obsessed with "the bears at the grocery store" for well over a month. She won't stop talking about them. We finally returned to the grocery store in question which has only reinforced her belief that the bears say "Ka-booooom!!" and are solely responsible for the lightening, thunder and "rain" in the produce section. She is utterly in awe.

:: We made Valentine's cookies not once, but twice. The first batch was eaten before we had a chance to frost them. And I, ahem, was caught red-handed by my toddler: "Mommy, you eat tooties? Come here. Open your mouf. Let me see."

And speaking of getting caught, the other morning I was nursing Hazel in bed and I...er...tooted (or--as we say in our house--had a frog in my pants) and Juniper saddled up to me and said, "Mommy, you wanna get your pants off and get your biaper changed?"

:: I started this post on Saturday (and here it is, Wednesday?), but my first weekend with just me and the chickadees resulted in some interesting nights and Juniper's first fall off the bed. I wrote about it all in an eloquent essay, which was promptly deleted by the faceless, absurd void of modern technology. Total bummer. I wish I could remember what I wrote.

:: Despite what I said about the lack of creative inspiration, there has been some sewing going on. I can't show you now, but I will soon. In the meantime, we drove just down the road and went sledding. Hazel cried most of the time and my man said, "This isn't exactly what I was imagining." I know, the Mr. has a tendency to fall into Christmas Vacation, Chevy Chase-stlye day-dreams of perfect family outings. The baby wasn't cooperating, but we had fun anyway.

Plus, our porch-side sled hill is growing. It's pretty fun.

:: Lately, Juniper wants out on the upper deck even when clad only in pajamas. I let her out until she says, "It's toooold. I need my boots on."

I know I often show photos of that great, majestic mountain behind our house--whose vigilance I am so thankful to be raising my girls under--but turn 180 degrees and the view is still beautiful, in it's own dilapidated way.

^Yes, that is our very own collapsed animal shelter thingy.^

:: Finally, (finally!) in some up-to-the-minute news, we got a deluge of snow yesterday.

New snow accumulation: 1 1/2 feet. Promptly followed by warm, chinook winds. These chinooks are really the only time it gets windy at our house, and damn, is it windy (and 40 degrees). Everything's melting including our snowmen and those icicles at the beginning of this post. Juniper keeps looking out at the decrepit front porch snowman saying, "The snowman died!!" (We're not sure when she learned about death, but it must have been dear old Osa.)

Heading to Montana very soon. Yee-ha! First road trip with the new, carseat-hating babe. Wish us luck.

{this moment}

2012-02-17T09:15:00.000-07:00

"Out came the sun and dried up all the rain and..."

Pssst. Real post coming soon! Maybe tonight?

A Friday ritual. A single photo capturing a moment from the week to savor and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

~inspired by SouleMama

{this moment}

2012-02-10T11:11:00.000-07:00

A Friday ritual. A single photo capturing a moment from the week to savor and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

~inspired by SouleMama

from the archives

2012-02-05T23:10:00.000-07:00

We have a little *bright orange* point-and-shoot camera that is nearly always lost. We're not sure how this happens as it's bright orange, but anyway. Typically we lose it for several months, find it for a week or so, then lose it again. But finding it is a gift on a frosty February morning. And particularly if I wasn't around when the photos were taken, it's a special glimpse into a world that's not mine.

Juniper's birthday-wish fishing trip with her birthday fishing pole:

Also from the archives:

^Grizzer bear tracks, do you see them?^

^My man's mule deer last autumn. This is one of the lovely creatures feeding my family this winter. I am really proud of my husband when it comes to mule deer hunting. He has spent the last two years reading and researching and truly learning about this animal he loves to hunt. And even though he has been hunting mule deer for...14 years? 15 years?...he is only now beginning to figure them out, becoming something of a rutty mule deer buck himself. They pull him into some steep, nasty country but he loves it. And I love to see him diving into his passion. As I write this, he is probably in bed reading about the biology and animal behavior of what we affectionately call "mulies". Love that man.

{this moment}

2012-02-03T13:47:00.000-07:00

A Friday ritual. A single photo capturing a moment from the week to savor and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

~inspired by SouleMama

making it

2012-02-02T16:32:00.000-07:00

"I draw a buffalo. And a moon. They're dancing together."

I have been enjoying the aesthetic beauty of unabashed toddler creations. Lately we have been making, and making it--this life with two kids. We weave inside and out and I loudly congratulate myself when the out happens without fanfare.

^Hazel under my coat, as per usual.^

Making: cooking.

Getting out:

Making: painting & drawing.

^Contributions from dad on this one.^

Getting out:

Around the time I was over in Idaho pushing a baby out of my body, Juniper's imagination took hold and by the time we returned, she was regularly serving up sandwiches, milkshakes, cupcakes and salsa and carefully laying out elaborate picnics. This was the start of her pretend play. It's super fun (and goes to show how dumbed-down we become as adults). Well, now days, we go fishing. We catch the fish, bake the fish, fry the fish and--most importantly--eat the fish. On this day, Juniper picked up a flake of snow and proclaimed: "I caught a fish!" And thus began our post-lunch walk.

^Carefully carrying the fish to the oven. Not so carefully eating the fish.^

Making: crafting with seemingly useless stuff:
Borrowing the idea from this blog, I saved all the pine needles that had fallen off our Christmas tree for a "rainy day" (re: too damned cold to take a newborn outside) project. We just mixed pine needles and glue together, formed it over a bowl covered in plastic wrap and let it dry. Ta da! We made a nest. Only thing was...I didn't have any non-toxic, kid-friendly glue. So, we made some.

It was ridiculously easy. And edible too!

EDIBLE HOMEMADE GLUE:
1 cup flour
1 1/2 cups water
1/3 cup sugar
1 tsp vinegar
Combine flour and sugar in a saucepan, add half the water and mix until it's clump-free, add second half of water and mix until smooth, add vinegar and cook on medium heat, stirring constantly, until a thick paste forms. Supposedly, you can let it cool, then store in an airtight container in the fridge for several months. But we used the whole thing, warm, with our pine needles.

I probably either should have let the glue cool first or taken our nest off the bowl before it was completely dry, because now we have a cute little pine needle nest with just a touch of mold in the center. But I think I can fix it up with more glue and some sparkly bling. I'll keep you posted.

:: In the meantime, this mama's been in a making kind of mood, sneaking it in when I can: naps, car ride, late nights. My first needle-felting project:

(What? It's an egg. You know, for the nest.)

Also, finished those booties for my preggo friend. I'm kind of on a bootie kick and I know five pregnant women right now. Hmmmm.

Made a knit-felted bowl for Juniper. Right now, she's using it to store her crayon rocks.

Prior to this bowl, rock crayons inevitably ended up in pockets:

Getting out:

^Juniper nearly always removes her mittens and has thus perfected the art of falling without sinking delicate flesh into icy cold.^

Juniper pooped while on one of our walks the other day. This is unusual. She usually doesn't poop while playing outside. We talked about it a lot and began to make our way back home for the diaper change. We passed a pile of dog turds and I *tried*, really I did, to steer J bug away from it because I knew what was about to happen: "POOP!!" Yeah, that's dog poop. "HI DOG POOP!!! Mommy, you wanna wave to the dog poop?" Oh, toddlers are so fun. Yes, my friends, this is how you find yourself waving "hi" to dog shit on a Sunday afternoon.

:: "Where'd Hazel doe, mom?" Maybe you're wondering the same thing. Well, sometimes, at the start of a walk, Hazel looks (and sounds) like this:

But after a few minutes, she snuggles in and sleeps soundly next to my heart.

And while Juniper and I are busy making, Hazel works to strengthen her little neck:

^My step-mom made this playmat/quilt for Hazel. If you think this side is cool, wait 'til I show you the other side.^

We always joke how Hazel "suffers in silence." I might find her--even in my own lap--flailing her arms all around, eyes wide and stricken, face scrunched and mouth wide open as though she's absolutely wailing...except she's perfectly silent. Really, this girl doesn't like to make a fuss unless she has to.

^Junebug loves entertaining her sister.^

And sometimes, when Juniper naps, I get Hazel Iris all to myself.

^That baby bottle is evidence of a (so far) failing mission. Despite almost daily efforts for over a month, it seems our girls are nipple-snobs: they won't settle for less than the real McCoy. We gave up with Juniper early on. But not this time, I'm sticking to it. I want to go to book club and knitting group and have some one-on-one with my firstborn, without worry or fuss. Keeping my fingers crossed.^

:: Random note to my future self; a little tidbit I want to remember because it's happening less and less: For a long time now, Juniper has had her own version of Tourettes syndrome. When she is tired and mad, she'll start spewing out words: "OTAY HERE WE GO NO JUST LEAVE IT ON I SLEEP RIGHT HERE HAPPY BIRTHDAY CUPCAKE." Then she falls to the floor.

:: Goodness. It really is a 2012 goal of mine to keep these damned things shorter. Thanks for hanging in here.

{this moment}

2012-01-27T13:46:00.000-07:00

A Friday ritual. A single photo capturing a moment from the week to savor and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

~inspired by SouleMama

two

2012-01-24T02:11:00.002-07:00

This past weekend marked two things: Hazel turned 2 months old and this here blog turned 2 years old.

Hazel: is cooing and has an irresistible left-wink smile. Since birth, she awakens only twice per night to nurse, like clockwork. My husband says sleeping with Hazel is like sleeping with a bear cub (and, yes, he would know). She snorts, groans, moans, laughs, chirps, squeaks, kicks, wriggles, writhes...but hardly every cries. She's a little particular about her body position--hates the carseat, hates lying on her back (except at night)--but will readily live out her days as a potato sack over a shoulder. We have several different carriers; she prefers the shoulder. She kills my back but I love her anyway.

This blog: well, two years got me to thinking. Not why I do it, I know why I do it, but why I keep it a public website. I've always said, I keep this blog first and foremost for me. Secondly, for my daughters. But you, YOU are the reason I keep it public. Just when I think this blog has run out of steam, or I keep posting the same shit over and over, or who really cares anyway?... I'll receive a letter, or an e-mail, or a facebook message, or a phone call, or an in-person "I love how on your blog..." and I'll realize there really are people out there reading this. Friends, relatives, strangers. How wonderful. And weird. And connected.

^First time I've witnessed Juniper drawing with intention.^

Last week opened with the most beautiful, generous letter.

She traced the history of our friendship, the way we have crossed paths in the wildest places. She put into words certain things about us. I read it aloud to my husband. He said, "She makes us sound better than we are." I was thinking exactly the same thing. Sometimes I get caught up in seeing what I'm not...it pushes me, drives me to become better. I'm always looking for the next step. We are who we think we are, but we're also the people in that letter. We're running full-steam in the dark and sometimes we just need someone else to slow us down, light a torch, and point out the stones we've left in our wake. Some are jagged and rough and don't fit, but most are round and smooth and fall perfectly into place. Thanks for lighting that torch.

^Junebug's first go at watercolor.^
:: Juniper falls asleep in her own room, but lately, she'll slip into our bed in the wee morning hours. Sometimes at 3am, sometimes at 7. Secretly, we love it. My husband hardly ever writes anything down (except love notes to yours truly), but this morning he got up and wrote this:

As I lie awake in the growing morning light I can just make out the prominent features of my daughter’s face lying next to me. Her brow, cheeks, jaw line are well defined but the rest of her features are blurry and I start to imagine and think I can see what she will look like as a child, teenager, then woman. And my mind drifts off as I think about all the adventures will have together, the joy we’ll have, the laughs, and of course a few tears.

Then I snap back to the present, lying in bed with our whole family, and realize that I just need to enjoy now, because she’s going to grow up much too soon.

Juniper is napping again. I lay out a camp pad on our bedroom floor and give her the choice between our bed and the floor and we hunker down as a trio. If Hazel is awake, she and I will slip out after Juniper falls asleep. Yesterday, as we nestled in for our nap, Juniper leaned over, kissed Hazel on the head and with a smile on her face said, "I so happy."

Truly, Juniper saves the most genuine love for her little sister. If she happens to do something to make Hazel cry--say, bending her fingers the wrong way or pushing too hard on her belly--Juniper gets stricken and starts to wail. It's as though someone's just told her she's a bad mother. It is both heartbreaking and endearing to watch.

:: You've no doubt either experienced or heard of the big, western dump. We got a shit-ton of snow, then some rain, then more snow. I am super excited to ski again. This was last week (before the big dump):

^Hazel's the green speck under my jacket.^

^My man is towing a sleeping Juniper in the trailer.^

^Skiing over tire tracks!! Not any more, baby.^
(I realized after last friday's post, you probably thought we were doing some gnarly downhill skiing. But no, just mellow, skiing the public land behind our house.)

:: Evidence of what happens in our house when I go away for an evening:

Juniper: Squeal!! "Mommy's home! Dashing home in a one horse open sleigh!" (Yeah, she hasn't forgotten Christmas. The other day I overheard a phone conversation that went, "Hi Santa Twause. Bye Santa Twause. Seeya waiter. I gotta go to wort now.")

:: Lately, Juniper's been calling me "mom". Already? That seems so grown up: "What's this, mom? Where'd it go, mom? I want the purple one, mom." And, whispered, "I remember the bears, mom. What's the bear's name, mom?" And, "I remember the grocery store, mom. Juniper go to the grocery store and Juniper see the bears." And, "What's that, mom? Where's another one, mom? That's pretty funny, mom."

In the meantime, this MOM's been having some strong urges to MAKE...

^Booties for a friend due soon.^

And, oh, I have more but it's ridiculously late and Hazel will wake soon for her first nightly nursing!

:: this moment ::

2012-01-20T09:38:00.000-07:00

(Ooooh, two in a row, am I bad. Real post coming soon....)

~skiing with babes~

A Friday ritual. A single photo capturing a moment from the week to savor and remember.

~inspired by SouleMama

:: this moment ::

2012-01-13T11:22:00.000-07:00

A Friday ritual. A single photo capturing a moment from the week to savor and remember.

~inspired by SouleMama

ushering in 2012

2012-01-11T01:02:00.000-07:00

Oh, man. There are a million things I want to blog about right now and I think about them ALL while lying in a dark room trying to get both my kids to nap. A million things. Life is so full.

Right now, it's 10:36pm. I *just* got Hazel to sleep. Last week, she crossed the divide between being a sleeping-all-the-time newborn (ha ha ha, I was actually a little concerned that she slept too much) and an erratic 7-week-old wrestling with her new digestive tract. She'll struggle all day, shooting green frothy poop and spitting up over my shoulder--happy in no position but my shoulder--and the next day, she'll sleep. She's starting to get predictable. Tomorrow, I have appointments in the big city and Hazel is scheduled to be on a green-frothy-poop-wrestling day. Look out, people.

My own sanity alternates almost as predictably from one day to the next. January 2012 had been looming on my mental horizon for months, and here she is, face-to-face. All our family, gone. My man, back to work. Me, navigating the waters of having two little monkeys all to myself. We're finding our rhythm. Some days, we get good quality playtime, dancing, drawing and cooking--sneak in some laundry and dishes--play outside, go for a walk AND take a nap. Other days, we're lucky to get out of our pajamas and getting outside is an all-day goal that never happens. My sanity rests completely on whether or not I can drop my own agenda. Who cares if we don't make library storytime? Naps are overrated! You wanted to write a blog post? Blog, schmog. Bills to pay? They can wait! Sometimes I can drop the agenda and my face relaxes, my heart sings. Sometimes, I can't. I'm working on that.

The best part is: I have Juniper back. I've really missed her. Since Hazel was, like, 48 hours old, I've really missed Juniper. It had hit me hard: the shock of me being her everything, to my man being her everything. I physically ached for my firstborn. I tried hard to keep things as normal as possible for her, but still, I felt her slipping. On the rare occasion when Juniper gets into our bed in the middle of the night, I secretly love it even though we're wedged in like a family of sardines and only Hazel and Juniper are actually sleeping. Now, Juniper and I have had a solid work-week together and our bond has strengthened. I'm fun again.

If Juniper holds any jealousy for Hazel, she never directs it towards her. She can be running around squealing all crazy-like, or crying and throwing a fit because she wanted the pink cup not the white one, and yet she'll suddenly stop. ...and gently kiss Hazel on the forehead. It's breathtaking, this sibling love.

But here I go writing about this week when I still have last....

:: We used the last bit of 2011 to unleash cousins...

Then harness them into a sleigh ride on the elk refuge (well, wagon ride due to the lack of snow):

^It's possible cousin Owen was more excited about the bus ride.^

^These are the bad boys. We got to see some of nature's funk this time: one earless bull and one antlered cow (not shown).^

^Juniper was too excited for a hat and mittens. "Elk! horsies! Elk! horsies! I wanna black horsie!"^

^Hazel is the lump under my jacket. She loved the wagon ride.^

:: We had some chinook winds roll in and turn our snow to slush. So what was previously unpackable sugar became the perfect sculpting material for a snowman (or woman--Juniper refers to the snowman with feminine pronouns).

Unfortunately, the snowblower doesn't blow slush and we were getting hung up in our driveway. The men folk shoveled the drive by hand, bringing back strong childhood memories. Afterwards, we did some front porch sledding at sunset.

:: On New Year's Eve, good, long-time friends showed up. Two sets of brothers with their wives...and now we all have kids. As I walked past the bathroom to change Hazel's diaper, I heard my friend's voice saying, "Yeah! Now flush the poop down." Ten years ago, nearly all of us were tromping around the backcountry and getting paid to do it. Later I asked her, "Ten years ago, would you ever have imagined this day in our future?" She said, "Hell, no. Well...I guess we were still messing with poop back then, it's just that it was our own." Oh, how times change.

Tried to get a photo of the girls in their adorable matching hats:

Four families, two last names:

:: M&D wanted some naked photos of the boys before leaving so we threw up the black sheet, and this is how we opened 2012:

^Not so sure we can call him "baby" Sam anymore!^

:: One of my favorite J-bug sayings: "I so excited!!" Happy 2012 to you all.

^Isn't he cute?^

:: this moment ::

2012-01-06T10:21:00.000-07:00

A Friday ritual. A single photo capturing a moment from the week to savor and remember.

~inspired by SouleMama

abundance

2012-01-04T23:21:00.000-07:00

The last of our string of family left on the first day of 2012. We are so lucky and blessed and thankful to have such a loving and generous family. We may be far in miles but we are close in heart.

:: After my dad and step-mom left, we had a week on our own, then my mom flew in and we passed the darkest days of the year cooking, eating, celebrating family and new life.

^Hazel often looks astonished to find herself here.^

My mom is a miracle. She spins magic in the kitchen,

Never shies away from toddler time, even crouching down on a newly-replaced knee to join her granddaughter in her new teepee,

and allows herself to melt into the softness of a newborn.

She was patient with Juniper's shake-n-dump style of cookie decorating and seemed to thoroughly enjoy endlessly cooking for our clan. (I KNOW. We are so grateful.) And she manages all this while maintaining her movie-star good looks (apparently that skips a generation).

Other than Christmas day, we had no agenda. We relaxed, went for frigid walks, discussed methods for getting Juniper to nap, had early bedtimes.

^First ski this winter was lulling Juniper to sleep in the back field.^

:: Juniper's third Christmas, but the first where she really got it.

Well, she got the part about Santa Clause and presents under the tree and candy canes, at any rate.

I've found that I may hold certain values within my own head and heart, but with kids, truth is in action. And I hope our actions will soon show her the other side of Christmas.

:: Hazel and I spend a lot of time like this and Christmas was no exception:

:: This year, most of our gifts were wrapped with Juniper's artwork:

:: This kitchen was a birthday/Christmas gift from the Montana side of our clan. I have never seen Juniper so excited about a single object. She'd been setting up elaborate picnics and serving sandwiches, salsa and cupcakes for weeks, but when this kitchen oven arrived she dressed as a monster, butchered her reindeer and baked her horse. My man is pretty proud of her blatant display of carnivory.

:: The day before my mom left, Juniper started acting out. She deliberately picked up a wine glass and threw it on the floor. The next morning she pleaded with my mom, "Grandma want to sleep in the rocking chair?" Which is what she says to my husband every night before bed in an effort to convince him to stay in her room. When I found her in the mudroom hugging my mom's suitcase, I knew what was going on. I'd been telling her that grandma would have to get on an airplane and go back home. Juniper knew we were saying goodbye, and this time she knew what that meant. She is an incredibly articulate girl, and we have been trying to raise her with emotional intelligence, but still, her toddler heart translated strong feelings into strong actions.
The day my mom left, our Montana clan arrived to carry us into the new year (more on that in another post). And when they left Juniper didn't break a wine glass. Instead, she clutched her dad and said, "I'm....I'm saaad."

And now here we are, carried into the new year on the backs of our incredibly generous family. Missing them all, but feeling their abundance of love from afar and a happy glow as we step into these next twelve months.

^Juniper is in the stroller, Hazel is the bulge under my coat.^

HAPPY NEW YEAR from our family to yours.

:: this moment ::

2011-12-30T10:29:00.000-07:00

~cousins~

A Friday ritual. A single photo capturing a moment from the week to savor and remember.

~inspired by SouleMama

random note on Yuletide's eve

2011-12-24T15:56:00.000-07:00

My man and Juniper are out for a drive because that's what we've resorted to lately to get that wild monkey to rest. (I know, I said I'd never do it. For the record, we'd normally do a stroller ride in times of desperation but outside temps have barely broke zero today.) I have stressed about naps lately and am trying to run my pediatricians words in my head when my exasperation boils: "You have to admire her spirit for life." It's true. And really, I should be far more concerned if the girl wanted to sleep all the time.

Right now, I am supposed to be mopping the floor for the second time since moving in, but Hazel was hungry so here we are multitasking at the puter instead.

I had been trying to decide if Juniper fell into the "naughty" or "nice" category when I noticed this morning that she has her first two-year-old-molar. No wonder. Nice to paste a reason onto all the diaper rash and crankiness. I didn't think it totally had to do with having a new sibling and being two.

:: Grandma is in town!! And so is Santa...

J bugs was apprehensive, curious and star-struck all at once. Our girl almost never stops talking, but she didn't say a peep to old St. Nick.

Okay, better mop so Santa doesn't have to step around cornbread crumbs tonight.

Merry Christmas, Happy Festivus, Merry Yuletide!!

:: this moment ::

2011-12-23T10:59:00.001-07:00

-16 this morning: hooray for Solstice!!

A Friday ritual. A single photo capturing a moment from the week to savor and remember.

~inspired by SouleMama

mostly Hazel, mostly photos, a few words

2011-12-21T17:25:00.002-07:00

I've mentioned before that, from the moment of birth, I've felt Hazel has an old soul. Even now, at four weeks, Hazel has a "been there, done that" attitude about babyhood. It seems she's trying to sleep through most of it, waiting until she regains control of her body and can interact with the world again. Seriously, aside from modern technology (she doesn't like the carseat or computer), this girl is chill.

Lately, when I pick her up or lift her off my shoulder, she opens her eyes wide and glances all around, as though she's astonished to find herself here. And then, her eyelids settle and she seems privately humored with this goofy family she's landed into.

We are fully enjoying her mellow presence, balanced with the boisterous spirit of her big sister who has full control of her body and speech--and knows how to use it.

:: I wanted to share a few more photos from our make-shift studio:

^My dad's photo. Awesome, eh?^

^Also my dad's.^

^She's mostly chill. But when not chill, she has such a mandrake face.^

^She's learned early, to keep one eye open when big sister is around.^

^Junebug trying to wear Hazel's pants, followed by frustration.^

^Hazel loves nursing, but she knows when she's done (so far).^

:: Loving how cloth diapers fit to the knee.

^Cashmere, merino and silk encapsulating those tootsies, baby!^

:: Remember those little troll dolls that people mounted to their dashboards? As cute as your baby may be, at some point--in the right light--they will resemble that dashboard kitsch.

:: And, as cute your toddler may be, at some point--with the right purple marker--she will resemble Lady Gaga.

:: this moment ::

2011-12-16T14:39:00.001-07:00

I read a few blogs that follow this simple, Friday ritual. I've been wanting to fall into the ritual myself but almost always, the next thing I know, it's Saturday. Fridays are more like Mondays for us, but whatever: I'm giving it a go.

~alphabet soup~

A Friday ritual. A single photo capturing a moment from the week to savor and remember.

~inspired by SouleMama

lying-in, sort of

2011-12-13T17:59:00.003-07:00

Well, we have pretty much been wallowing in our expanded family. And, up until a few days ago, watching my dad and step-mom take over our house and do pretty much everything for us and then some--cooking, baking, playing with Juniper, baby-holding, curtain-hemming, underwear-ironing...seriously, I would need to devote an entire blog post just to list everything they did for us in the 3 plus weeks they were here. I don't think parents can get any better than this. We are so lucky. They were willing to give up an entire month of their fun-filled schedules to stay with us and make our new transition that much easier, squeezing us between Oaxaca and Peru.

^We celebrated 4 birthdays during their stay: some early, some late, and one right on time. The sous chef was more of a taste-tester.^

They tackled toddler tantrums, no-nap days, small town cabin-fever, no microwave, and consistent below freezing temps, all the while sleeping on a blow-up bed.

^Grandma L and J bugs embellishing Hazel's stocking.^

It was the greatest gift we could have asked for. We are still trying to figure out my dad's magic for getting Juniper to nap. We have a freezer full of soup, chili, cupcakes and cookies. We haven't cooked, really, since November 17th.

^My dad's awesome full moon shot.^

:: Sometimes, Juniper will watch me and Hazel very intently, and her wide blue eyes will melt me because I'm thinking that she's thinking that she's been replaced. But then.... Then, she will pick up Baby Sam and imitate what I was doing with Hazel. She'll burp Baby Sam and say, "Come on, honey," cradling him in her arms.

Well, cradling her in her arms. Apparently Baby Sam is not a boy. Neither is my husband nor my dad because Juniper seems to only use feminine pronouns. I love it. She puts a refreshing spin on the world by referring to everyone and everything as a "she."

:: We've done a couple of make-shift photo shoots lately, trying to capture the newborness of Hazel before she morphs into a chunky monkey.

^My dad's photo and one of my favorites.^

I admire people who do this for a living. There is a whole timing thing involved which we mostly missed. Hazel took on a fighting pose and Juniper was squirmy and trying to wear Hazel's pants.

Juniper has also been trying to wear Hazel's coat. I have a feeling this is just the beginning.

:: Oh, Hazel's feet.

How I can't get enough of the feet. All these tiny little perfect body parts. No wonder I was so sick and miserable and gained so much pregnancy weight. I was busy making femurs and eyeballs, fingerbones and brains. No wonder. I look at her feet and I still (still!) can barely reconcile that it was these exact feet that were kicking me under my right rib just 3 weeks ago. It seems so wholly impossible that babies come out with all these perfect parts already perfectly formed. When she was first born, I believed it. I had felt all those bony parts slip from my body. But now...it already seems so far away and so impossible. It was her, inside my belly all along? Holy cow.

:: I haven't read any scientific studies on the matter, but I do believe newborns emanate a strong relaxin hormone.

Even Juniper takes a break from her toddler antics to hold Hazel once a day. Then, it's back to the grind:
:Catching the last swim lessons with dad.

:Passing books to Hazel.

:Helping grandma make Christmas cookies (and eating a lion's share of dough).

:Setting up some serious picnics. This girl has taken cooking to a whole new level. She will endlessly cook, mix and serve up sandwiches, milkshakes, cupcakes, cornbread, coffee, tea, french fries, soup and salsa.

: And doing some aspen re-gen in our nearby forest (re: the cutting of the Christmas tree).

:: :: ::

:: We've had so many e-mails and messages and comments about Hazel's birth and some people asking permission to pass along my story to other VBACers and I have to say, 1) Thank you so much for all your congratulations and well wishes! And, 2) Please, please share! It was essential for me to hear about and read other VBAC stories, particularly when the medical industry seems to think we're irresponsible and crazy for believing we can birth our own children.

:: Is there a better time of year to welcome a new family member?

A Birth Story

2011-12-01T19:44:00.002-07:00

Holy cow. I’m still so pumped up, if it weren’t for my sore bottom end, I’d do the whole thing over again right now. It’s been just over a week and already I have to TRY to remember the pain of labor. What did it feel like again? Oh…that intense, downward pressure. In the dark, on my knees, the truck. That music. Dire Straits' “Walk of Life”. The details are still so immediate, but the pain is so far.

:: ::

The Monday before Thanksgiving, three days before my due date, I had a line-up of appointments and errands across the border in Idaho. Midwife, chiropractor, the home improvement center, grocery store, furniture store. At the birth center, I asked my midwife what I could do to get this baby coming sooner rather than later. She said, “You’re seeing the chiropractor today? Ask her to do some pressure points. If you’re ready and the baby’s ready, it will work.”

At the chiropractor’s office, she greeted me with the same question she’d been asking for weeks: “Have you had the gender dream yet?” (Just the night before I dreamed that my mom told my husband we were having a girl.) The chiropractor adjusted my spine, loosened my round ligaments and hit some pressure points on my feet. Then, she told me to go for a walk. As I was leaving her office she said, “I think this baby will be coming soon. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re having a girl. The first time I met you, I saw you as the mother of two girls.”

I went for a walk. I ran errands at Lowe’s, waddling through the warehouse isles and holding my low-slung belly. I went to the grocery store, walking from isle to isle as my step-mom rattled off a list over the phone. I’d been having low, on-and-off contractions for days, but the grocery store was the first place a contraction would occasionally catch me off guard, and I’d pause for a moment thinking, That was a strong one. It was getting late, and I had the feeling I needed to get home. I decided to skip the furniture store. The whole drive home (about an hour and fifteen) my lower abdomen was contracting almost constantly and I started thinking we might be turning around and driving back to Idaho that night. About 18 miles from home, as I drove along the lake’s edge, I felt light headed. It wasn’t until then—in the dark, on a lonely highway, with no cell phone service—that I realized maybe it was a dumb idea to drive myself to those appointments.

Once home, I rolled out of the car, walked in the house and told everybody about the pressure points and how I’d been having contractions all after noon. My step-mom cheered, “Yeah! Let’s get this baby coming!” I emptied my bladder and the contractions slowed down. I ate dinner, gave my step-mom last-minute instructions on I’m not sure what, then the contractions picked up again. I called my sister-in-law to see if she thought I might be in labor. It was now eight o’clock. She said, “Sounds like labor to me.” And like so many other people, she warned that VBAC labors can be slow to get a pattern established. I called my doula, told her what I was feeling and that I was going to take a bath and then I was hoping to take a Tylenol PM and try to sleep through these early contractions. She told me to time contractions for an hour.

^Last photo of my pregnant belly.^

As I drew my bathwater, I could hear Juniper running around in the living room. I could talk normally between contractions, but everytime I contracted I would get irritable with my husband, wave him away and bark, “Just get her to bed.” We couldn’t find a working watch or clock with a second hand. I took my ipod into the bath with me, thinking I could find a “contraction timing app” but I couldn’t concentrate enough to open the app store. My husband brought me a pen and paper and I timed from beginning of one to beginning of next. 4 3 2 3 3 3 2 3 3 3 3…. We timed for twenty minutes and called my doula back. My husband told her I’d had 8 contractions in 20 minutes. “That’s a lot!” She said, “You need to call your midwife.” In those 20 minutes, my contractions went from barely being able to feel the “start” to wincing and curling up against the peak. My midwife wanted to know how long the contractions were lasting, but we didn’t have a second hand. I told my husband to get my dad’s watch; he always has a second hand. The midwife said to time for 15 minutes, we timed for 8 and called her back. I told her I didn’t like how close together they were…it didn’t seem like I had much of a break. Meanwhile, my husband is getting antsy, he just wants to pack up the truck and go. The midwife said to come on in and she’d check my progress then we could decide whether we should stay at the birth center or check into a hotel and try to sleep.

:: ::

We hang up the phone and my husband leaves to pack the truck. My contractions are really starting to intensify. I can barely get out of the bathtub, I have to get on my hands and knees for each contraction and it briefly crosses my mind to just ask the midwives to come here, but then I remember they can’t legally practice in Wyoming, so I heave myself up and out of the tub. I get dressed, fall to my knees for another contraction, walk out to the living room, fall to my knees for another contraction, walk to the mudroom, fall to my knees, put my shoes on, fall to my knees. My dad takes some pictures, fall to my knees, get back up and say, “You’d better get me to the truck.” I don’t want to have a contraction in the snow.

^Getting ready to drop for another contraction.^

The truck is packed and running. I can’t sit down so I ride facing backwards with my knees on the seat, my hands on the headrest, no seatbelt. It is 10:30 pm. At first, I am quiet through contractions. 20 miles down the road, I am moaning and groaning, rocking and swaying. Then, the section of rough, windy road: “Slow down! No bumps! NO BUMPS!!” I want music, but we can’t reach the birth music cd’s we’d just made, so my man plays whatever is already in the cd player. Dire Straits' “Walk of Life.” And then, a song that is totally WRONG. My man keeps skipping through, trying to find something that won’t annoy me.

With every contraction my lower abdomen makes a vice-grip on my torso, but mostly I feel the intense, downward pressure on my cervix, like a Volkswagon bus is trying to drive its way out. “This sucks,” I tell my husband, “I don’t think I can do this.” Next contraction, “This was a really bad idea. If this is early labor, I’m not going to make it.”

I am making primal, prehistoric animal sounds. My man is driving faster. And then, a feeling like the baby just sucker-punched me in the cervix…POP! Gush….. Oh. My water broke. So that’s what that feels like. We’re at antelope flats. Already? Pass a cop car with someone pulled over. Wondering if I’d actually go to the hospital for an epidural because there is NO WAY I can do this for 15 plus hours. Pulling into the birth center, seeing my midwife and doula with anxious looks on their faces, wondering about the state of the woman who is about to roll out of a big red truck. Husband walks me to the door, I step inside and fall to my hands and knees. I can feel my doula’s small, strong hands squeezing my hips and I instantly know we can do this. I’m pushing. I’ve been pushing with every contraction. I keep saying “I. JUST. WANNA. PUUUUUUSH!!!!!” I’m not sure if I should be pushing, I still think I’m in early labor. I feel like I sound like my two year old: I. WANNA. ANIMAL CRACKER!!!

Pushing is a force unto itself. The whole idea of NOT pushing is like trying to stop a tornado. The tornado is rolling through me and I go with it. I’m amazed by the force, by the impossibility of stopping it. They try to get me to stand, but I fall back down for another contraction. Between contractions, I can’t stand so I crawl. I’m trying to make it to the birthing suite. I have another contraction. Someone takes my shoes off. I briefly wonder how stinky my feet are.

^My shoes on the rug.^

My doula says the midwife has water filling the tub. My husband and doula help me stand and walk me to the blue room. The tub only has about 8 inches of water so far. That sucks. I fall down for another contraction. With each contraction I push when I say “PUUUUSH”: “I’m PUUUUUSHING!” Or, “I’M GONNA PUUUUSH!” Or, “I WANNA PUUUUSH!” My midwife asks if I’m feeling pushy or if it just feels good to push. I don’t know what the hell she means, but I remember this as though we were standing up looking each other in the face and having a civil conversation. My midwife says, “Get her pants off.” Someone hesitates. “Get her pants off,” she says again with the authority of a woman who has raised twelve children. I don’t know who takes my pants off, I think it’s my doula. Someone takes my shirt off, maybe my husband. My doula asks if I want to keep my bra on and I tell her I don’t care, but I’m also thinking I don’t want it to get wet because it’s the only one I brought. They take it off and help me in the tub. Between contractions I can hear my midwife hustling and ordering around the student midwife, telling her to get the oxygen tank and a flashlight and…. I get on my knees with my hands on the edge of the tub. I keep bellowing and pushing with each contraction but I’m still not sure if I should. I have no idea how far along I am. I hear my midwife say she wants to check my dilation so I don’t wear myself out pushing too early. I have to turn around and sit in the tub, that sucks. She checks me:

Midwife: "You’re there, sister."

Me: "What do you mean?"

Midwife: "You’re ten centimeters."

Me: "But how can that be? I just started."

I’m not sure what happened after that because another contraction rolls me back to my knees and I hear my doula’s soft voice in my ear, “You’re there. All you have to do now is push your baby out.” I quit talking about pushing and I just bellow and push. The whole time, I can feel my husband’s hands squeezing my hips. I’m making a lot of noise and I know this. I probably sound like I up and decided to try benchpressing four hundred pounds of free weight. My midwife tells me to try staying quiet and to focus my sounds downward to push my baby out. I try it for one contraction and I’m a little quieter. But it seemed like a three-step instruction she gave me and I can’t remember. Between contractions I say, “I forgot everything you just told me.” But I remember the part about focusing my air downward. I can feel the baby’s head like a giant, hard, round nut and my legs are the nutcrackers. I’m trying hard to keep my legs wide enough that I don’t crack the nut. I start to feel like I’m pushing out a bowling ball. Without thinking I reach down and touch the baby’s head. It’s odd to feel something down there that I can’t feel back, that isn’t mine. I keep pushing with each contraction and everybody starts telling me to, “Reach down and feel the baby’s head!” Everybody tells me this and I’m annoyed because I already did. Finally I bellow, “I ALREADY TOUCHED THE HEAD! I. JUST. WANNA. GETIT. OUT!!!!!!” I continue to push with each contraction. Then I feel a sharp stinging sensation that feels like my skin is going to split up to my bellybutton. I keep saying, “it stings” and my midwife says, “that’s because the baby’s head is crowning.”

And then, everything slows down. My contractions slow down and we just sort of hang out like that. My doula has my forehead in her hands. I just wait for another contraction because the idea of pushing without one is like trying to flex a muscle you don’t own. I can hear my midwife giving my husband instructions on how to catch the baby, but I don’t hear what she says. Then my midwife says, “Okay Gretchen, you don’t want to wait too long.” And then I understand that for my baby’s sake, I have to flex that muscle. I own it after all. I grunt and heave and puuuush and I can feel the baby dive into the water, I can feel the tangle of bony limbs unfold behind it and the baby slips out smooth and fast, held back only by the rope that still binds us. In my mind’s eye, I have a perfectly clear image of this: my baby slipping smoothly, quietly, from my body into the water. It’s 12:10 am.

A second later, I hear a cry. And then I hear a little bit of a struggle behind me and people talking about a short cord. There is some passing back and forth of the baby and I have to lift my leg over the umbilical cord to get in a sitting position. And then, the baby is brought to my chest, but low because the cord is short. And I look down at a swollen, squished, squinty-eyed, vernix-covered little face trying to open its eyes to this candle-lit world and we meet eye-to-eye for the first time.

Dumbly, I say “Hi. Hello. Oh my gosh. I can’t believe it.” And I think I repeat those words over and over. Finally I say, “I don’t even know what it is. Do you?” My husband says no, he hasn’t looked yet. My midwife says we’d better look. We hold the baby up and both say, “A girl! Oh my gosh! I can’t believe it. Another girl!” My midwife wants me to try pushing out the placenta, but my contractions are so small, it seems impossible. But I heave once more and feel a jellyfish slip from my body.

We alternate between oogling over our new baby girl and trying to get her to latch-on. Everyone comments on how round her head is; amazingly, she has no conehead. She is perfect. Wow. Sisters.

We can’t get her to latch-on right away so we drain the tub and wash up and move to the bed. My husband says, “You did it. You had a VBAC.” I hadn’t even thought about that. The baby is still too sleepy to latch-on and we start to worry because this happened with Juniper, who didn’t learn to nurse until she was six days old and we thought she was going to whither up and die. The midwife says, “You have to be forceful. Don’t take no for an answer.” Our doula says, “Just keep talking to her, she knows your voices.” We start to sing her Happy Birthday because she’s probably heard it five million times in utero while we were getting Juniper to sleep. Just like that, she is calm, but alert, and she starts to nurse.

The student midwife inspects my placenta and says, "Well Gretchen. You grow a mighty fine placenta." She shows us all the parts: organ, amniotic sac, umbilical cord. We are so impressed to see our daughter's home for the last nine months. Then she arranges the placenta and cord into the Tree of Life, and it really does look like a tree. Incredible.

^I tried to edit this photo enough that it wouldn't just look like a bloody organ. I hope you're not getting squeemish.^

After we are on our way to nursing success, she is inspected, measured and weighed. 8 pounds. 20 1/4 inches. Everything works. She's perfect.

:: ::

Between the time I called my sister-in-law to see if she thought I was in labor, to the time I held a baby girl on my chest, 4 hours had passed. Between the time we stumbled into the birth center and the time my husband caught his baby girl, 40 minutes had passed. This was my first labor and I had fully been expecting a 36 hour marathon…at least the average 15. I never would have anticipated things to be so fast, and so intense. I told our midwives I couldn’t believe the hospital would have made me have a repeat cesarean. What a crock. I said, “I can birth a baby faster than they can get the OR prepared.”

We stayed that night at the birth center. My man fell into a deep sleep and I alternated between nursing and listening to little squeaks and chirps and that heavy, irregular, newborn breath. I kept going over the events of the day in my head. The midwives had figured I was in early labor at the grocery store.

^Photo taken the next morning. On the phone with my mom.^

The next day, my throat was raw and sore and my forehead felt like someone had hit me with a baseball bat—I must have been grinding my head into the tub’s edge until my doula saved me from myself.

Worst part: those bittersweet and STRONG afterpains that lasted for days and days. Most surprising part (besides rapid labor): for the first four days afterward, I felt like I gave birth through my rectum. Nobody ever talks about that. (My midwife said, “I know. We should include that in our birth class so it’s not such a shock.”)

We have an 8 pound baby girl. Not a huge baby, but not tiny either. And yet, for the first week I just couldn’t believe how small she is. I just don’t remember babies being so small. Now, I can’t believe something so big and perfect was just inside my body, like, last week. And I pushed her out. I pushed her out in the same way women have been pushing out babies all over the world, in every culture, since the beginning of humanity. How awesome, and impossible, and perfectly normal.

We stayed in a hotel the second night and the morning of the next day, we named her. Hazel Iris. Hazel is a name we’ve had picked out for a daughter since before we were married. Iris suits her, and ties her to the place where we will bury her placenta come spring. She has darkish hair, deep gray-blue eyes, my tiny mouth, my husband’s widow’s peak and my long-toed possum feet. She sleeps a lot, hardly ever cries, makes a lot of scrunchy faces and smells like a flower-scented breeze. Almost instantly, I could tell she has an old soul. This girl has seen the world before.

:: Homecoming: it took her several long minutes to grasp the idea, but when she did, Juniper loved on her new baby sister.

thankful

2011-11-25T23:29:00.000-07:00

Hey y'all. I wrote this last Sunday but didn't get a chance to finish and post it. Many of you know why. I promise to post what you really want to know soon, soon, soon...but in the meantime....

*************************************************************************
Sunday, November 20, 2011

Hi. Still pregnant.
We are officially accepting name suggestions, especially boy's names. Have at it, please. We tend to prefer names like, for example, Juniper. If you can come up with a boy's name that's earthy and simple, has only one spelling and won't land him a black eye in middle school, you are a genius and we will forever be indebted. We'll also take girl's name suggestions, but we're doing much better in that camp. Boys names are just hard.

:: A couple weeks ago, I had a sudden, irrepressible urge...

^I couldn't find a pattern I liked (they all required some weird origami sewing...and why oh why would you sew booties when you can knit them in the round? Duh...) and so I went freestyle. I even wrote down what I did (amazing).^

With Juniper, I filled out every detail of "My Pregnancy Journal"; I glued in photos and wrote in the margins. This time, I never cracked the spine. I feel pretty bad about that. As a second child myself, I really didn't want to fall into the second-child-neglectful-mother pattern, but I did.
Then all of a sudden I felt like this baby needed some attention. And so instead of doing the million other tasks on my list while Juniper napped, I sat on the couch and knitted, resting my hands on the big, hard, pumpkin that takes up my midsection. With every stitch I thought about the little human that is, incredibly, living in my belly. I tried to visualize what he or she will look like; what his cry will sound like; wondered if she will be mellow or high-strung; pictured these tiny booties on tiny feet.

I never allowed myself to knit baby clothes while pregnant with Juniper. (Why take the time to knit something they're going to spit up on, poop on and will only fit for 3 months? That said, I did sew a small load of diapers.)
I've often regretted that decision. We only get to be 8 pounds once in our lifetime. There is only one time that we will be so small and helpless that we don't need leather-bottomed slippers. When a good friend of mine had her first baby I told her to let the dishes go and revel in her newborn. I am not a religious person per say, but I told her holding a newborn is like holding God.
And so, this time my baby will have cashmere, merino and silk engulfing those divine feet...poop stains and all.

Oh. And I didn't stop with the booties.

My friend made this hat for our second-born, remembering that I had always wanted one for our October girl:

^Modeled here by one of my step-dad's gorgeous sculptures.^

:: Ever since we brought home the I'm a Big Sister books and started talking about the baby in mama's belly, Juniper has been into it. Right now, we're thinking the biggest issue with Juniper and the new baby will be her wanting to feed the baby peanuts and cover its head with a blanket during naps.

At our 36 week ultrasound to check placental location and get the all-clear for a VBAC.

:: Lately, Juniper has been digging into my bellybutton which is now pretty much an outie and a wee bit sensitive.

:: In other news, we planted garlic just in time...

...because the next day brought us this...

:: My dad and step-mom arrived a few days ago, so now we really have the all-clear to go ahead and meet this little bean in my belly. In the meantime, we've been celebrating belated birthdays.

And helping grandma cook...

And preparing for the change that will rock our house.

I am getting antsy but my man has been a superhero, diligently working on the Honey-Do list while taking care of both me and bugs. His coworkers keep asking how he stays so svelte..."Try working on a house with a pregnant wife," he says. But we have both been breathing lightly since my parents arrived. Anything that seemed urgent before has been set aside. We're as ready as we're going to be.
*************************************************************************

That's as far as I got.

Then Monday came and we went for a wild ride.

And we are thankful. Birth story to follow....

monster love

2011-11-09T23:52:00.002-07:00

I sure love my little monster.

I'm not getting as Oh my god, you're not going to be our only child anymore as I thought I would. Juniper loves people and babies so much that I'm swelling (literally) with pride that we'll be adding one more human to our little clan. Sure, I'm expecting some pouting, some hurt, confused looks and some ramped-up clinginess, but still.... In the end, I think she'll be over the moon about having a sibling. Mostly, any anxiety I have is being funneled into an overwhelming need to record The Essence of Juniper. So sorry if I start getting bogged down in mundane details. It's just where I am right now.

:: Halloween. Juniper really got it this year. She had a hand-me-down monster costume, but I didn't think she knew what a monster was, so we checked out some books the week before Halloween. It worked. She was totally into her costume and has since worn it nearly everyday.

:: We finally carved the big pumptin that had been sitting on our kitchen floor for a month. Juniper especially loved pulling out the slimy pumpkin seeds.

:: The friday before Halloween our local library hosted a party complete with treats, crafts and costume contests. Juniper was a bit overwhelmed being surrounded by so many small, painted, unrecognizable humans. But a craft table cleared and she joined her story time buddy for some candy-bag decorating (the chocolate cookie also helped release her inhibitions).

The party was a good warm-up for the crazy, town-square trick-or-treating we did Halloween evening. The boardwalk was sardine-like, packed with costumed kids and parents trying to keep track of them. If my man took Juniper to a store for candy, she'd ask, Where'd mommy doe? And if I took her she'd ask, Where'd daddy doe? She really didn't want to lose us amongst all the freaky short people.

:: J bug didn't know what was being dropped into her pumpkin until this moment, then oh, look out. We were eating most of her candy, but had to be sneaky about it after she tasted a Whopper.

Bugs went trick-or-treating with her friends the owl and the puppy (not shown), to the degree that we could keep track of each other.

:: On the home front: we're still working on the house (shocking, I know) and I'm 38 weeks pregnant. I have what my man calls a "Honey Do List" and he's been taking time off work, methodically checking off each item as I focus on retaining my sanity in the face of super hyped-up, mega-nesting, get-shit-done-NOW late-pregnancy instincts. So far it's working out. But also, I'm THIRTY EIGHT WEEKS PREGNANT. Dude, that's out of 40 for those who aren't in the know.

Here I am staining trim with linseed oil. Thankfully, it is now almost all nailed to our walls. Bathrooms should be done by tomorrow.

:: J bug is helping us cook more and more. We have to be careful, because it can backfire. Here she is helping with the cornbread, but she didn't help with the stew. She loves to eat where her investment lies, which meant all cornbread and no stew. Noted.

:: I love outdoor chores, but I especially love outdoor chores with my kid. She wants to help, loves to help, and eats snow along the way, feeding some to me saying, Brrrr. It's told.

:: I've mentioned before that our grass is much taller than Juniper and she's not really excited about that. Well, my man rented a weed-wacker, knocked out a little yard for us (and for me to plant garlic), then made Juniper a maze through the field. She loves it.

:: Here's what 37.5 weeks preggo looks like:

:: And our lovey, happy, three-headed monster:

:: At least once a day, Juniper says, I doe trick-or-treating. And, Where'd pumptin patch doe? She refers to both the real pumpkin and the plastic bucket as pumptin patch. And yes, they're still around, but asking, Where'd _______ doe? happens to be her question of the week. Also, I still get coerced into singing Happy Birthday Juniper at both nap and night time. My man thinks bugs will be wearing the monster costume at Christmas. I love that. Really, kids are so much fun. I had no idea my "terrible two" year old would be such a joy. I try to enjoy every stage for what it is and not get too nostalgic over a past stage, or too anxious for a future stage. But I can tell already that I'll really miss early toddlerhood with all its freedom and lack of self-consciousness.

all about a junebug

2011-10-31T01:53:00.003-06:00

Or rather, an Octoberbug.

It seems we've been celebrating Juniper's two-year birthday since early September as relatives bearing gifts trickled through our home.

^Juniper has learned the art of exhausting relatives by insisting on "more airplane". ^

But the real shebang was a few days after her birthday when we hosted her first small, but true party. Between the balloons and the older girls and younger boys, Juniper was nearly beside herself with glee. I made chocolate pumpkin cupcakes with orange pumpkin frosting and my famous squash soup. For the first time, we noticed the difference between boys and girls. The girls curled up in Juniper's bed, read books to each other and ate lunch together. The boys honed-in their radars for wheels, found the ridable toys, hopped on and didn't get off, not even to eat. And...aside from the 49 seconds of video while singing Happy Birthday, I didn't get a single photo. Not one. Sometimes it's nice to walk around without a camera smooshed to my face. But this time, afterwards, I felt like an asshole for failing to capture J bug's first party. Doh!

The whole party whooptie-do in her honor really made an impression. She name requests the song, Happy Birt-day Ju-per at least eleven times a day and it took a week for her to stop insisting on cupcakes (or rather, tuptakes, since she can't say "k" sounds yet) for snack. And anytime I reach for the top of the pantry she asks, Presents? Oh my.

:: But Juniper's growth in the last six months, and especially the last two, is what really *blows* our minds. Not just her hair and her long, thinning, legs...but her mind. And especially, her language. She throws out multiple new sentences on a daily basis (today, off the top of my head: I get cheese grater. And, Let's go get him!), she holds us to our promises, and boy is she getting finicky about how she thinks the world should be arranged. I love watching her little independent personality blossom.

:: She chooses her own clothes.

Often vacillating between wanting to wear three shirts and two pants, or putting up a fight to get a single shirt on.

:: She hates having her hair brushed or washed or dried (resulting in the extremely short bob seen in some of these photos).

:: She is especially particular with her mothering skills. Everyone gets a diaper and clothes and laid down for sleepytime.

They get fed milk and water and leftover oatmeal. They get swaddled and burped.

^Under that green shirt is her "hiking suit" which I have learned to hide, otherwise, she'd never wear anything else.^

They go outside.

They splash in the mud. (When I tried to keep the doll inside she whined, Baby Sam outside tooooooo.)

:: She insists on reading her favorite books to herself saying, I read it.

:: And sometimes, requests that we take her picture: Sorry, sorry. Excuse me Ju-per. Picture?

^Here she hams it up for the camera, but drops nothing in the toilet. (So far, she has peed once on the potty, entirely on her own while no one was in the room or even paying attention.)^

:: She loves to be helpful.

^Moving.^

Doing finishing work on the tile.

Helping unpack the chocolate sprinkles.

And the refrigerator baking soda.

She supervises her dad with the interior trim.

And her mom with packaging meat.

:: She likes our new house, but isn't crazy about the taller-than-she-is grass. (Establishing a YARD is our top springtime priority.)

:: She gets crazy over autumn leaves, confirming our choice for her middle name.

:: She is still goofy and giggly and loves to play peepaboo.

:: She prefers variety in her meals. And whether it's hot sauce or beer, if she sees us eating something she doesn't have it's, Try some too? Ju-per try some too?

Still, she especially loves spaghetti, fish, tomatoes, blueberries and beets (because they stain her hands red).

:: And oh how she lives for singing and dancing. Favorite singing songs are: Ring around the rosie, Skip to ma woo ma dar-yen, London bridges, Happy Birtday Ju-per and John Denver's "Country Roads".

:: Favorite dancing songs are: "Thank God I'm a Country Boy" (which she requests with a rare, entirely unrecognizable name) and "The Safety Dance". We are head-over-heels with her hillbilly stomp, which is actually extremely difficult to mimic. It involves a little foot-stomping shuffle and your butt stuck out to one side. We do try.

:: Her favorite phrases change by the week. Last week it was, I did it! Yeah! This week it's been, Where'd car go? Ah! I find it. Or, Where'd dog go? There he is! And while my man was gone hunting it was, Where'd daa-y go? in a sad, lost voice.

:: Her low, bullfrog voice (she got that from her father) is getting sweeter and higher pitched, but for some things, she still busts out the bullfrog. If she's really excited about something (say, you pull a tangerine from the fridge and she hasn't had one for a few days) she says in a very deep voice, Oh, ho ho ho! Whoah!

:: She is an accomplished parrot. We learned the hard way to control our own swearing. We've learned to say things like "shoot-dangit" after several weeks of Juniper dropping Baby Sam in the grocery store followed by an, Uh-oh. SHIT!

:: After an entire summer of training her to hold my hand, she now does it willingly. Thank god. Just in time for the new baby. Maybe I won't lose my toddler in the grocery store parking lot after all.

:: And yet, for all her independent spirit, we have been working for over a month on getting her out of our bed, with mixed results. But that's another story.

:: (And seriously, I'm *trying* to post more frequently so we can avoid these War & Peace photo posts. Thanks for making it to the end!)

into the valley

2011-10-12T23:56:00.001-06:00

When I asked Juniper what she wanted to do for her birthday, she looked up from her lunch plate and said, "Fishing."

It's a little strange to have Juniper's 2nd birthday right around the corner. Last year I was so reminiscent and nostalgic over Juniper's birth one year earlier. It's a big day, for a woman to become a mother. But this year is so different. I am all forward-looking, trying to prioritize tasks by the order in which they will unfold...Juniper's birthday, house-guests, baby. I will be full-term in just a couple of weeks. That's *crazy*. My To-Do list looks something like this:
*Finish installing trim, stain interior doors, bake a cake, call doulas, hang pictures, finish unpacking, make 36 week ultrasound appointment, clean garage, get crap out of guest quarters, plant garlic, find dresser for new baby, buy microwave....

Those tasks are all interspersed with periods on the floor, my feet propped on the couch, trying to get the swelling down in my left ankle. This baby sits super low in my belly. The little chicken has been head-down for as long as Juniper was head-up. My kickboxer has become more of a yoga artist, stretching and pushing, wedging little heels up into my ribs. Juniper will lift my shirt and say loudly to my bellybutton, "HALLO??" as though she's answering the phone. She'll rub her hands over my belly, telling herself, "Soft." Then poke my almost-outy bellybutton and demand, "Come OUT!" Then she'll poke at her own bellybutton and say, "Come out." I keep trying to explain that only mama has a baby in her belly and that it needs more time to grow.

:: A couple of weeks ago, just as we were trying to move and settle in to our new house, we went camping. And oh man, did we need it. My father-in-law was visiting, which made it even better. We were hungry for something that wasn't house-moving-packing-unpacking related. We took four days and headed to our old stomping grounds, the same valley where we met and later married.

:: I noticed two things on this trip: our first camping trip without Osa, and my first time in a tent without a nursing-down Juniper. But Osa was with us in spirit, plodding down the trail. And nights were so damned cold I was grateful to keep my abdomen warmly covered.

Mornings and evenings were cold. Bedtime stories were short.

But when the sun crested the mountains, everything changed.

:: We hiked.

:: Played on a sandy beach shore.

Yeah, yeah, I know I've bragged about using cloth diapers even on camping trips, but we were way too disorganized this time, leaving a hamper full of dirties at home.

:: Fished.

:: And I had a pronghorn antelope tag for the area. We had brought our rifles just in case and me and my 7-month pregnant ass managed to "make meat", as my father-in-law would say. I have to admit, even though this was totally NOT the kind of hunting I would normally engage in (I was 30 feet from a road; I'm normally miles from a road), after two years of no big-game hunting, it was still exhilarating, still primal. I still had that moment where the world narrowed to just me and the antelope buck in my sights; where the weight of taking another life for the sake of me and my family hung in the air between us.

He is tender and delicious; the best tasting antelope I've ever had. This valley has always been good to us.

:: We had campfires and late dinners of trout and antelope loin.

:: And parted ways.

:: On our way home, we stopped at a private place special to my family. The extra organ I grew both to nourish and protect Juniper when she was in my belly...has been in our freezer for almost 2 years. We thought we should get one placenta out before another comes in. But really, the timing is appropriate. The physical bond between mother and baby has moved on. Our connection, our physical touch, is purely motivated by emotion now.

We found the spot.

Dug the hole.

And said "bye-bye" to our placenta.

The only thing we didn't do was scatter some of Osa's ashes...since they're still packed.

Family Fiber Fest

2011-09-30T23:55:00.002-06:00

The hot roar of summer has slowed to a slow, warm, autumn trickle. Days are still shorts-and-sandals, but nights are fleece jackets and knit hats. Mountainside maples burn cardinal-red by day, forest fires settle to smoke-laden valleys by night. I love it.

We went camping last weekend, a much-needed break from working on the house and moving and all-around stress. I feel refreshed, rejuvenated, and laughed when we came home to discover our storage unit had been left open all weekend. I knew nothing would be missing, but still...don't think I would have cared. One less thing to move.

I still have bits of summer to post...since Juniper and I came home from the Pacific it's been one-thing-after-another, but...you know.

Right back to it:

:: So...after a week at my mom's we drove on up to my family's 15th annual Family Fiber Fest, better known as FFF. This is where my step-mom and my aunts (and a token "adopted" sister) on my dad's side all get together to knit, weave, sew, make jewelry, cards and exchange ideas. This is not a bunch of grandma's getting together to gossip and crochet acrylic toilet paper covers. They are serious, and what they make is nothing short of art. Us cousins join the Fest when time and pocketbooks allow. This year, there were two of us, plus my mom. The first day consists of show-and-tell (showing off all things handmade in the last year), the exchange of handmade gifts, and a wee bit of champagne.

And then, it's down to business:

That's me, the super chubs preggo on the right ^. You don't need to see my belly to know I'm pregnant because this time, my whole body is pregnant. Oy. I was all distraught about this for a while, but then realized that A) I am growing a whole new human being, and B) I only have two more months to be super chubs pregnant and the rest of my life to be something else. (When I mentioned this to my husband, he said, Yeah, you can be super chubs and not pregnant. Ha. We've always been straight-up with each other.)

:: Meals are shared and with that many women, there is never a shortage of food.

Check it out:

That's my rya knot lap weaving project. Juniper sometimes napped and other times fell into the hands of grandpa or grandma or one of many aunts and I actually got to work on some projects!

Romping with grandma L.

J bug completely distracting Aunt J from her own lap weaving project.

Before we even arrived, my dad had gone and found a huge appliance box and made Juniper her own little house, complete with a window and sill. Young June Bug is very lucky to have such a spunky, creative grandpa. Plus, he was the only one nimble enough to climb in the box with her.

Other times, Juniper would demand, More amimals. Meaning, she wanted grandpops to show his photos of African mammals. She loved that.

Grandma L had borrowed this playpen thingy complete with phone, music, mirrors and such. Juniper would open the door, demand to the nearest adult, In? And then, Dancing!

(When we got home, she would construct her own corral with books, toys and other floor debris, and demand the same thing. In? Dancing!)

Before we left on this trip, bugs was saying short, demanding sentences like, Open the curtain or, Shut the door. But on this trip, two things happened: Juniper became completely obsessed with airplanes and started belting out some full, long sentences. We'd flown on a plane to get to my mom's, we'd read a book about planes for a week straight (over and over and over...Juniper asking, More? More?), and my dad practically lives within spitting distance of a small, puddle-jumper airport. I thought she'd get all gooey about boats in the water, but no, it was airplanes. Airplane! Up in the sky. Over and over and over. A month later, the obsession has not waned. She sees and hears airplanes faster than a dog can smell bacon. Helicopters too, which she calls hachitopters. After we flew back home, she started into the more sinister sentence: Airplanes on the ground, boom boom. We're still not sure what that means, exactly.

:: Juniper and I often snuck in some afternoon excursions into the woods.

Bugs was probably more into picking her grandpa's well-tended flowers, but I found the short, soft woodland trails refreshing after an entire summer of not-enough-hiking.

Playing beepaboo with Grandma L.

People find this hard to believe, but Juniper is camera shy. Seriously. I work hard to get good, candid photos of my little bean. Aside from the occasional Toddler Day, she is a super happy, laughing, smiling, talking, singing, dancing fun little chickadee. But...break out the camera and the smile fades, the laugh stops and all she wants is to play with the buttons and look at the LCD screen on the back. I love these photos ^ because she was having so much fun with a new, borrowed, toy and my dad and I both had cameras and she couldn't escape us!

Random note: The wooden fruit and bread set was borrowed from my dad's massage therapist whose daughter has a daughter close to Juniper's age. And that's the crazy thing about the blogging world. I follow the therapist's daughter's blog and she follows mine and we've never met, but now our kids have exchanged germs via a borrowed toy. Totally crazy. And wonderful.

:: How many families out there have an annual Fiber Fest? Not many, I'm guessing. I'm so lucky that my grandma's creativity has rolled through the generations. I hope my cousins and I continue the tradition and our daughters after us. Would that be a miracle, in this day and age?

milk and honey

2011-09-01T00:08:00.001-06:00

Mid-August, Juniper and I embarked on plans we'd made months earlier because 1) I didn't think I'd be able to help work on our new house, and 2) I thought we'd be moving in by the time I left anyway. Neither of those things turned out to be true, but plane tickets and a sizable collection of outstretched family arms awaited us. And, despite the flight, I was really, really looking forward to it.

Our itinerary included two flights with an almost-2-year-old in my six-month-pregnant lap, one week at Grandma's, an 8 hour drive up to Grandpa's, one week there, and two return flights home. No problemo. Ahem. I actually broke down and bought a portable DVD player because how else could I entertain a toddler on my lap for 3 hours? Gone are the days when I could nurse her during take off, have her fall asleep for the duration of the flight, and I might even sneak in a few pages of a coveted novel. (Full disclosure: Juniper can truly be a rock star at self-entertainment and we only used the DVD player for an hour and never could get the headphones to work right. On the return flight, she hadn't napped and was super-cranky-tired, screamed her head off for a few minutes then endearingly fell asleep curled up in my arms. No pages of a coveted novel read, but I did get some Kegels in.)

:: Grandma's: the land of milk and honey, the pot of gold at the end of the Oregon Trail rainbow.

I knew our time was short and I had a list. First up: haircut for me by a paid professional. Second: the Scandinavian Festival; I remember going as a kid: good food, endless dancing. J bug was so excited about the dancing she didn't even try--at least not very hard--to run off when I took her out of the stroller. (Have I mentioned that before? My kid isn't afraid of anything or anybody and she bolts.)

Grandma and June bug watching the dancers...possibly one of my favorite pics of these two together.

The Scandi festival is thoroughly enjoyed by young and old alike.

:: Next stop, my hometown staple: The Saturday Market. An enviable farmer's market combined with crafts that haven't changed much in the last 30 years. There's so much color in my hometown...people, politics, clothing.... Being home makes me realize how most other towns are rather beige in comparison.

We're not sure where our kid came from. I was a hide-behind-my-mother's-legs child and my man...well, he can be rather chatty but I think he was more reserved as a kid. Seriously, Juniper runs up to almost everyone, demands, "HI!" and joins their group. Here she is plopped down next to...?????

Chewing on her monkey's tail.

:: At grandma's house, J bug and Bailey got along famously.

Juniper was thrilled to have a canine playmate again.

But she wasn't accustomed to a young, feisty dog and didn't quite understand the tug-of-war concept.

:: Outdoor dining every night at Grandma's is divine: no mosquitoes, no wind...just warm, twinkling, blooming, bliss.

Top that off with some fresh, local, sweet corn and, as Juniper would say, "Nummy!"

And new bedtime stories with Uncle D:

That's my brother. Juniper can say his name, but she nearly always referred to him as "Blueberries". Their special time was to go out in the garden and pick blueberries. He would pick, line up blueberries on the fence rail (head-height to J bug), and she would count the berries one through ten (onnnnne, twwwwo, reeeee, four. five. six. seven-eight-nine-ten) and eat them. They had a good thing going, it's no wonder she changed his name.

:: I had been looking forward to taking bugs to this playground near my mom's house. But Juniper is still kind of eh about most playgrounds. She'll humor us, but really she'd rather explore the woods and old irrigation ditch on the outskirts.

:: My aunt hosted a good old fashion backyard bar-b-que (true to my aunt's style, it was all gourmet food) filled with brothers, sisters-in-law, cousins, nieces, nephews, friends--not all of whom are pictured here because I was too busy eating and drinking and soaking up conversation while my adorable niece glued herself to Juniper. It was possibly the most relaxing evening I'd had all summer. If her parents were willing, I would adopt my niece.

Juniper was enthralled with my aunt, her dog, and her recliner.

:: The one goal that topped my list and didn't make it until the end was a trip to the beach. We were trying to plan for a day with good weather (coastal weather in the northwest can be a little touch-and-go), but ended up walking a wind-blown beach anyway. Juniper and I had been reading about oceans and seas, pelicans, crabs, starfish, boats and whales and I knew she would get it if she saw the ocean, in the flesh.

She'd been to the Pacific before, of course, but that was before her mind was thoroughly sponging up the world around her.

When I told her, See that water, that's the ocean. It's where whales and crabs and starfish and all the creatures of the sea live. That's their home. Her eyes were wide and unblinking and I knew she was taking it all in, like ALL of it. Like, more than our adult brains could ever hope to register in one sitting. I love it when she's wide-eyed. It's like a window to human potential.

See those tiny streaks ^, that's how hard the wind was blowing sand, stinging the backs of our legs. Still wonderful. Still, as Juniper would say, "Awesome."

:: Next stop: Grandpa's house. Coming soon.

16 things

2011-08-15T17:56:00.001-06:00

I am loving about this summer:
Oy. Still catching up here.

1) Juniper wanting to wear a swimsuit first thing in the morning.

2) The fact that I can open a zip-lock bag makes me a magician.

3) June bugs hungry for new books (thankfully, we'll soon be moving to a town with a library!).

4) The simple satisfaction of diapers on the line.

5) Juniper's hillbilly stomp.

6) Swimming lessons with my little crocodile.

7) June bug's favorite sing-song chant: One, two, buckle my shoe. Except it comes out as: One, two, bump-a-shoe, and she'll sing it half-asleep in the middle of the night.

8) Words, words, words!! Juniper now finishes the sentences from her favorite books and songs. (The Sleepy Little Mouse, I'm A Big Sister and John Denver's "Country Roads".)

9) J bug's obsession with her new monkey, which is actually a child harness I used last Wednesday at the airport.

10) Summer.

11) Finger painting.

12) That everyone gets a diaper.

13) The fact that our last-minute, why-the-hell-not veggie garden is doing pretty well.

14) Summer vegetables. (No. We didn't grow this one. The corn, I mean. Somehow, we did grow those crystal blue eyes.)

15) The tiny kicking babe in my belly.

16) French Toast.

summer so far...

2011-08-14T15:57:00.000-06:00

A synopsis in photos and words from the last month or two : )

Oh, goodness. Time flies when it's summertime. But for you, a recap:

:: Father's Day: my aunt and uncle paid us a visit. In Yellowstone they had seen nearly every animal there is to see , but not a moose. Lucky for us, on a post-Father's Day Dinner drive we spotted a bull by the road. There was a quiet bouquet of tourists standing around snapping photos. At first, the moose was behind some willows and Juniper didn't see him. But oh, man, when she finally realized what we were looking at she yelled, "WOW!!!" Everyone burst out laughing and one man said, "That's what I thought but I wasn't going to say it!" We are still laughing over that one.

Don't laugh at my man. You'd look like that too if you were trying to wrangle a moose-excited toddler.

:: Day with Dad:

Our little mushroom hunter learned to spot the well-camoflauged morel.

Side bar to the present moment: note her right hand...that month of dandelion-picking is not winning Juniper any brownie points with grandma's pansies.

:: July 4th we headed north to visit the cousins,

Baby Sam. Juniper has been way, crazy, into baby dolls...all of whom are named "Baby Sam".

As well as some old friends (and their new one).

Turns out, Livingston, Montana has a really kick-ass Fourth of July parade. Floats from all over the state, old women twirling batons and really old men dressed as clowns. Juniper (once she woke up) was enthralled. Owen was trying his damndest to beat the older kids to candy.

Juniper applauding.

My brilliant idea (and there was no talking me out of it), was a visit to the hot springs. But oh my, 90 degree hot springs on a 90 degree day = hot, sweating preggo mama and two lethargic, dehydrated toddlers. (But I think Sam enjoyed it.)

Juniper and Owen counting roses.

Multiflora roses, Juniper, Owen, Baby Sam and Aunt D.

:: Back home we've been working on the house (tile in kitchen, dining area and now master bathroom is DONE!! Oh...except for grouting.

View from our upper-deck; sounds fancy...it's not, but it does have a killer view. We've spotted elk, mule deer and mountain goats so far. Note to potential house-guests: this deck is off the designated guest sleeping quarters. Sorry, no bed yet. We'll work on that after we move in.

Mudroom is still a work-in-progress.

:: Aside from home remodeling and swim lessons and play-dates, I've had to learn something new this summer: how to be a backyard mama.

Last summer, we camped, backpacked, day-hiked and day-hiked. This summer, that kid-pack waist strap ain't going around this belly. That rules out mom and daughter day hikes. And any day my man has off, we're working on the house. But Juniper has adjusted well to the lack of far-flung adventure, opting instead for Osa's old pool in the backyard.

:: My man is optimizing what little time he has at home...

My husband has always done the night-night routine with J bug. Here he is showing the three books he deems, "The Knock-Out Special".

:: Also, after a day of pounding nails into hickory, we brought Juniper and celebrated 8 years of marriage, 11 years together. (Wow. Has it really been that long?)

Despite our busy summer, my man never fails to deliver wildflowers to yours truly.

:: I am writing this from The Land-of-Plenty. Juniper and I flew in to Grandma's house early, early Wednesday. More on our visit here...soon I hope! I have high hopes of reigning in some of my blog slack while visiting relatives. No phone calls to make, not so many clothes to fold...you know.

Lord of the Flies

2011-07-17T17:23:00.000-06:00

In order to help my man work on our house, we've decided to enroll Juniper in daycare one day a week. Today, I checked the place out. I'm not sure what I was expecting...maybe a fairytale-like place with storytelling and finger painting and lots of toys. What I wasn't expecting was a hard dose of culture shock. It seemed so...dirty, institutional. Lots of small, snotty-nosed kids running wild and a handful of older kids glued to the computers. One boy yelled to another, "No! That's MINE!" And then there was the small flock of kids that reminded me of dogs at the pound. All of them barking and wagging their tails and trying to show you how awesome they are so you will take them home. One boy with a t-shirt soaked in drool followed me everywhere wanting to show me his plastic multi-tool. Another girl wanted to show me her new shoes and brag about how she got to go swimming with her parents. I felt like I was about to leave my kid at a day-time orphanage. I was trying not to cry in front of the director; she was clearly very proud of her facility.

Any doubt I have ever had about our decision to arrange our lives so I could stay home with the youngin's instantly vanished. Poof. Any doubt I have ever had about what kind of role model I will be for my daughter as a piddly, stay-at-home mom (the world's most under-appreciated job), in lieu of a high-powered somethingorother...poof. Any doubt I ever had about Juniper not getting enough socialization...poof.

I know this is probably not the best facility. We live in a very small town and this is the only official day-care. The neighboring resort town has an array of options to fit anything from a normal budget to deep, Rockefeller pockets. But I'm guessing the normal-budget day-care even there is comparable to ours. I suppose I was just expecting something better than what we have here at home.

Our visit to the daycare left me thinking about everything Juniper has that we take for granted. I often have the grass is greener on the other side approach, thinking a real career and daycare are the best options...to be able to say I am a _____ (fill in the blank...caterer, nurse, professor, teacher...). But. At home, she plays in grass, dirt, water and wildflowers...versus a gravel yard with plastic play structures. When she talks, there is an adult who listens and understands. When she wakes from a nap she is greeted with hugs and kisses. These seem like small things, but after our visit today, they seem huge.

J bug is really into counting. It started with flowers and moved on to everything else. Her sequence generally goes..."One...two...ree...six."

I found myself not asking certain questions because frankly, I didn't want to know. We are planning to leave her there once a week until we are finished with our house. Period. The care-takers seemed kind and level-headed and really, that's all that matters. And I know Juniper will love the place.

Actually, I was expecting her to jump right in and think it was the greatest place ever and protest when it was time to go. But she surprised me. She is not at all shy, but she did seem a bit overwhelmed. If I could have read her thoughts, they would have gone something like this: Wow! Look at all these kids! Where ARE we? Hey Mom, check out this plastic helicopter! Who ARE these people? Where are the parents? Look! A plastic egg carton. Wow. Why is this girl following me everywhere? Help mom, she's got me cornered. What the HELL are we doing here anyway? And then she gave me the same look of uncertainty that Osa gave me the first time I left her at a kennel. Needless to say, she didn't protest when we left. Still, I am convinced that she'll love it, because ALL kids love daycare. Right?

I try not to judge anyone based on their child care decisions. Everyone has a different situation. For many families, there is little choice involved. I have friends who grudgingly send their kids to daycare everyday and hate it. I have other friends who know stay-at-home parenting isn't for them and probably include thanking God for daycare in their bedtime prayers. I know of others who are stay-home moms but probably shouldn't be. I have yet to meet a family with the *perfect* situation. And for us, right now, our best situation includes daycare.

***********************
:: I wrote that ^ on Monday. Wednesday we left Juniper at the daycare center and didn't pick her up until they were nearly closed. You would be proud: I didn't even check on her at lunch (I thought checking would make it worse)...but I did have my cell phone glued to my leg with strict instructions that "if she seems overwhelmed, just give us a call; we're only a few minutes away."

Six years ago we installed a hardwood floor with a hand-nailer. This time, we borrowed an air-nailer and, Holy shit! We'll be selling the hand-nailer on e-bay.

Meanwhile, my husband and I had our first all-day alone together for the first time in 21 months and Oh. My. God. It felt wonderful to be working on a project together, just like old times (except at every break I would verbally wonder what Juniper was doing at that very moment: Juniper's probably eating lunch right now, I wonder what she thinks about eating alongside a bunch of kids? They're probably trying to get Juniper to nap, I wonder if she will, etc. I could sit down and watch a nine hour video of Juniper at daycare and never get bored. Truly. I wish I could have seen what she did all day.) But there we were, at our new house, gettin' shit done. My man gets to do this all the time, but for me, doing something constructive with my hands was a glorious change.

With the miter saw on the ground, I got to practice my "birthing squat" several hundred times a day. My thighs are sore, but I think I've got it down.

:: When I picked Juniper up she looked hot and exhausted, but barely registered my appearance. She looked at me and asked for milk. (Oh my...it's been so long since I've posted! Juniper drinks cow's milk now with just a nip of mama's milk before bed.) Then she went back to pushing two baby dolls in a swing. She DID NOT want to leave. I finally had to pick her up and she kicked and screamed and clawed my face. I think the care-takers were a little surprised to see such behavior come from the "absolute peach" they'd been watching all day. When I got her in the car she was thirsty and famished. I handed back every last piece of food I could dig from my bag with her asking, More? More? all the way home. But...they got her down for a nap! And she played so well with the other kids! And she was such a joy! And she talks so much! And she was an absolute peach!

She did so well, and we made so much progress on our house, we decided to leave her two days a week. But I have to say, when we bring her home from the Lord of the Flies free-for-all, she is a tad crazy. Wednesday night she talked and sang non-stop during dinner, then pulled my hair and clawed my face when I tried to get her to sleep that night. Thursday night she was cranky and cried a lot. So apparently, she's a daycare peach and saves all the other emotions to unload on us.

*******************
:: But anyway. Other than the ginormous emotional switch to daycare, Juniper has been so funny and wonderful and growing and changing faster than we can keep track of. We have had so much fun over the last month (and I have so many photos!) that I'll need to write some catch-up posts. (Along with that turkey camp post, right?)

Nothing beats naked bike rides with dad.

June so far

2011-06-14T19:50:00.000-06:00

Yesterday, my mom reprimanded me for neglecting the blog. Believe me, I'm trying. The thing is, I think I sleep more than Osa did. (Does that mean our new baby will be a good sleeper? Wink, wink.)

Juniper soaking up the morning sun, talking on her "phone."

::We've had a good June so far. We miss our old girl, especially the spit-shine job she did on our kitchen floor, but everything around us has been so blooming with life.... As they say, Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened.

My sincerest thank you to everyone who sent us your thoughts over our loss of Osa.

This week has been off-and-on oozing and drizzly. Bright green leaves dripping, birds the hot colors of fire flitting around our house--orange, black, red, neon yellow. Some days I feel like we live in a tropical rain forest. But other days we have hot sun and give ourselves chores outside so we can stay out well past naptime.

Scrounging up "mulch" for our last-minute potato patch.

Sunning diapers.

Helping in the garden.

:: The other weekend, we had an awesome time in the hot sun with old friends. Celebrated a 4th birthday at a good friend's house that is like a built-in carnival complete with 3 kids, 2 cousins, jungle gym, sand box and trampoline, topped off with some pig-chasing and horse rides.

Juniper was all smiles her first time atop an ungulate.

The birthday girl (and her little brother).

:: We spend drizzly days trying to decide on paint colors. Check out the future home of our new kitchen and dining area:

The contractor's almost done--then it's our turn, yikes!

:: In the bag of maternity hand-me-downs was a package of disposable premie diapers. We pulled out a couple just for fun and, turns out, put-the-diaper-on-the-Kenya-doll is Juniper's favorite indoor activity. She can do the sticky tabs herself, but if left entirely to her own devices, the diaper often ends up on the wrong body part. She loves diapering her dolls and animals and begs for us to help pleading, Open? Open? More? More? She also loves cleaning them and blowing their noses. And--just lately--her bear and dog have been going poo-poo and pee-pee on the potty. (This could be our big break-through as Juniper has been on a potty boycott.)

:: We've colored before, but she wasn't really into it. Now, she asks, Crans?

That said, we're still working on the ONLY ON THE PAPER bit.

:: Juniper now chooses at least one piece of her own clothing for the day and nearly always checks herself out in the mirror. She is always pleased with her own reflection. Can't say we disagree.

:: It's nice having a garden for an outdoor chore even if our harvest is a moot point because we'll (hopefully) be moved.

Besides, sometimes you run into cool things like your first salamader:

This is Juniper trying to say "salamander."

Verbally, Juniper is basically a parrot. She has several hundred words and will try almost anything on for size, occasionally stringing two together. Our personal favorites are her own name, Ju-per and, WOW!! Today, she was climbing into a canoe (on the ground, not in the water) and told herself, Careful.

:: Yesterday it rained nearly all day, and then this:

Our hillsides are bursting with balsamroot, but down here on the cottonwood floor it's mostly grass--with one exception. There is one large, lone clump of balsamroot squarely at the base of a cottonwood. I've noticed it from the highway. It's so perfect, it almost looks as though it were planted. So bugs and I headed out to find it.

Juniper: Flowers! Wow! Pretty.

'Night everyone.

Also, I haven't forgotten the long-lost turkey camp post : )

sea without salt

2011-05-29T17:30:00.003-06:00

Every morning Juniper wakes up and says, Daddy! And then, Osa?

I miss her terribly. I miss her the way the sea would miss salt, the way mountains would miss snow, the way spring would miss rain.

Her absence is visceral, like I have a hole in my belly.

It breaks my heart to know that in a month or two we'll be moving into a house that has never known Osa. No scratch marks on the door, no pee-stains on the carpet, no black hairs tucked under the furniture, no elk legs and rawhides strewn about the yard. How will we remember?

I bury my face in her bed. I open the lid to her dog food container just to take a whiff. I keep her water bowl full. During our night-night routine with Juniper we still end with, Goodnight Osa.

Loosing a dog is like loosing your left arm. The always-thereness, the always-needing--food, water, pills, walks, outside, inside, pets, kisses---and then not. I've spent more time with Osa than I have with my own husband.

Juniper is being so helpful. When I start dry-heaving in the mornings, she hands me my puke bowl and starts imitating my sounds. When I get weepy over Osa, she holds a handkerchief to my nose and tries to wipe away the tears.

There are things I regret, there is guilt. I wish I could have her last full-day back. I wish I had known it was the last. We knew she probably wouldn't make it through the summer but every time she was knocked down, she got back up. We couldn't predict when she wouldn't rise again.

Last night we watched Marley & Me. There is a scene towards the end where Owen Wilson's character and Marley are taking a slow walk through an autumn field. They stop, sit down, and he says, "You're going to let me know, right? You know, when it's time? I don't want to make that decision on my own. You let me know when you're ready, okay?"

That's what Osa did for us. That was her last gift to us. We never thought she would; we thought we'd have to do the math, counting tail-wags and calculating good days versus bad.

That morning my husband awoke early, came to me and said, Osa can't get up. He'd found her collapsed in a puddle of pee by the front door. He got her outside, where she hobbled and fell down. He carried her back inside, laid her on her bed. From early morning until her heart stopped beating that afternoon, Osa stayed in the same position--not even twitching a leg--as though she were paralyzed from the neck down. She was exhausted. She wouldn't eat or drink until noon when Juniper was able to feed Osa her last meal, kibble by kibble. Then, she ate happily, her ears flopping like a puppy, her gray muzzle searching out the next piece.

We made an appointment with the vet. I brushed her, rubbed the inside of her ears, told her she'd get to see Nick and Rosie, play tug-of-war with Lepricon, that Jim would pour bacon drippings on an endless bowl of dog food. I thanked her for everything she gave me, everything she taught me, for all of our years together. I told her I was sorry for every time I got mad or frustrated with her. I remembered her body before it was bony and bloated; the way I would fawn over her slick black coat, the tuft of gray on her butt, her perfect paws....the same way we fawn over Juniper now. I kissed her and smoothed the bridge of her muzzle. I told her she was the best, best dog.

My husband carried her, bed and all, into the vet's office. A young woman read books to Juniper in the lobby. We sat on the floor in a quiet back room. I held Osa's head in my hands. We told her it was okay, that she gets to go on one more trip. The vet said she would just slip away. I don't know when exactly her heart stopped, but I felt her head relax and become heavy in my hands. She died in her bed, with four balsamroot flowers on her ribs, one for each of her family members.

We wanted her cremated. That was the hardest part: leaving her alone on the floor of the vet's office, getting back in the car without her.

One reader of my blog commented that it's hard loosing *that* dog. The dog that has seen you through a coming-of-age, through dating and wedding your spouse, through several moves, through the birth of your first child. Loosing her is like having to close the book on the first chapter of my adult life.

But. I am grateful.

Osa, you get to go

2011-05-27T01:12:00.001-06:00

You've probably been expecting a post about our turkey hunting trip for weeks now. I apologize, it's coming. I have *still* been tired and--though less nauseas--vomiting more frequently. This is not what I was intending to post tonight. But sometimes, life chooses for us and we go with it.

:: I rescued Osa from the pound in 2000. We had one night home and by the second night we were tent partners. She rode shotgun and slept in my sleeping bag. Osa became badly epileptic at 2 and has since been a high-maintenance pain-in-the-ass. And yet always, thoroughly, undeniably, loved. She has been the best dog.

Osa started her life with me as a backpacker and when I look back through the photos of our life together, I realize that she has been more places and seen more things than your average American, let alone your average dog. The words she's always perked her ears for: "Osa, you get to go!"

Except a handful of trips overseas, Osa and I have gone everywhere together.

Yet despite all our rugged outdoor adventures, Osa has always been soft, goofy, clumsy and a touch lazy. It's the part of her that's kept us laughing.

And she's hung in there through our greatest adventure of all:

:: Today, Osa took her last trip. We laid a bouquet of balsamroot flowers on her chest and whispered in her ear, It's okay. You get to go. You get to go.

I think we gave her a good life. And I know we loved the hell out of her.

See you on the other side, old girl.

lion in my belly

2011-05-01T08:45:00.001-06:00

Did you miss us? Oh, we missed coming here but it just wasn't happening. For the last month I have been so exhausted. When Juniper naps, I nap. When Juniper goes to bed, I go to bed. There is no extra hour. To top it off, I've been all vomity and nauseas, making regular yet spontaneous visits to the porcelain queen (or whatever is closest--usually the kitchen sink, much to my husband's chagrin). Turns out, I've got a little lion in my belly.

Okay, so maybe it looks more like a peanut with limb buds. Still, it feels like a lion. Despite the extra ten pounds I'm already carrying, it makes me feel small and weak to know something the size of an inchworm can completely overtake a full grown woman's body. Holy shit. It's tough work, making a new human.

When I peed on the little pink stick at the end of March, my first thought was: No way! That was fast. Then Juniper tottered into the bathroom and my second thought was: Oh my god! Juniper! I am so, so sorry. You only have eight more months of being our one and only, then you have to share. I am so sorry. I truly felt like a horrible, irresponsible parent and to this day I am still having to convince myself with reason that Juniper will have way more fun with a sibling than without. Right now, I still can't imagine that there is enough room in my heart for two--Juniper seems to fill it beyond capacity already.

Rolling around and getting tickled in Osa's bed is a favorite pastime lately.

:: So anyway, that's what we've been up to this last month. I spend most of the day in pursuit of food, puking, eating more and trying really hard not to puke again. The first few times I threw up, Juniper cried (my husband says I sound like a prehistoric animal giving birth), but now she doesn't bat an eye and just asks for more blueberries.

Today we are leaving for our annual turkey hunting trip and upon our return I hope to have clove's corner back up to her normal programming. In the meantime, here are some tidbits from the last month:

:: Back when we still had a ton of snow on the ground, we headed to the other side of the mountains to bask in the warm, desert rainshadow.

And hang with Juniper's geographically closest surrogate grandparents (my husband's brother's wife's parents). Really, they treat Juniper like their very own granddaughter. We are truly blessed to have them so close!

Look, no stocking cap! Juniper was a happy bee, walking all around without getting hung up in several feet of snow.

:: Back home, we closed on our house(!) and Juniper learned to identify elk poop. She'd pick it up and walk around saying, Boop boop boop boop.

:: My man left for 2 weeks at the height of my vomiting spells for work-related training. Somehow, we managed despite several phone calls to my parents with me trying to remember the last time I was ever this miserable. Don't get me wrong, I'm very excited to be pregnant, but I'm also very excited for the nausea and vomiting to vanish! I am counting down the weeks until the second trimester.

So while I was home sounding like a prehistoric animal giving birth and Juniper was walking around our house rattling off her new favorite words ("dirty" and "garbage"), my man had one day off back in Georgia and he didn't waste it:

He caught 4 sharks that day. I am not jealous; at least one of us was having fun. I asked him, "How do you get the hook out to release a shark?" "Very carefully." That one there ^ is a little baby hammerhead. (He didn't get a photo of the biggest shark due to the de-hooking factor.)

:: Juniper turned a year and a half. I remember this time last year, when turning six months old was such a huge step. 18 months still feels huge but in a different way. We no longer have a baby, we have a really smart little kid. When I told the doctor she has well over a hundred words and her favorite activity is to walk around and name things he said, "Wow. You are very blessed. Enjoy her." That said, Juniper still shuns eating utensils and prefers to shovel in food like a little cave-girl.

Also, she likes to hold as much stuff as possible in one hand. Here she has two diapers, pants and a sweater.

Juniper was my bright ray of sunshine during our two weeks of home-alone nausea. (I know I keep complaining...but imagine having the stomach flu all day, every day...how would you feel?) She is so fun, funny, smiley and happy. I was this sick carrying her too (funny how we forget these things) and she reminds me it's a small, short-lived sacrifice to make for something amazing and wonderful.

Believe it baby, our snow melted! And once it started, it went fast.

I'm glad I captured that ^ face on film. That's her super-concentrated, I'm-on-a-mission face. (Note the elk trail to the left: they've moved out and up to higher ground.)

:: Things are greening up around here. Though slow as a turtle this year, spring is here and summer is around the corner. The changes are most notable in the weekly variety of birdsong outside our window. Robins, juncos, canada geese, sandhill cranes, redwing blackbirds. Ahhh, I'm so excited to spend the next ten days outside.

still winter

2011-03-30T00:10:00.002-06:00

Just stopping in to say hi. I have nothing brilliant, funny or wise to share tonight. I'm just. plain. tired. I've been falling asleep with Juniper at night and it's like I've been hit over the head with a baseball bat. I just can't get myself back up for a date with my late-night hobbies. I've been doing all the leg-work on our house which would normally get me all fired up to have a big project, but right now I'm in a funk. Maybe it's because spring seems to be one-step-forward and two-steps-back. Snow melts, then we get another eight inches. I love snow. But right now, I'd really love some mud. In the meantime, I spent what could arguably be part of Juniper's college fund to get myself a contraption I'd been wishing I had for the last 3 months:

Can you say, "Heaven?" Heaven.

I have two rules about winter: 1) If you're going to live where the temps get below freezing, you better have some friggin' snow. 2) If you have friggin' snow, you better enjoy it.

:: Last week we put on our tourist hats and took Juniper for a "sleigh" ride on the refuge.

Turns out, we were two days too late for the sleigh and got the bumpy wagon instead. Still, awesome.

Juniper kept trying to climb out of the wagon all the while saying, Ott, ott, ott... (Ott = elk, obviously.)

There was a pretty nippy wind that made her eyes water, but she hardly noticed.

:: Juniper's nanna braved her first-ever airplane flight to help with the new baby up in Montana, then came down to see us for several days. It was *wonderful*.

We did a little wildlife watching and between here and Montana, I think my mother-in-law saw damn near every large mammal we have in this region (except for hibernating grizzly and black bears, of course). Around the corner (so to speak) from our soon-to-be-home, there is a little herd of mountain goats who winter on the rocky slope above the highway.

I can never get photos of these guys because I don't have a telephoto lens. Used my mil's camera for this one.

Also, checked out a herd of big horn sheep.

Again, mil's camera.

:: We celebrated a birthday in our house. I love when this day comes because my man has to stop teasing that I am the old geezer of our relationship and we spend the next eight months in the same age category. By his request, I made my step-mom's lemon poppyseed cake.

Juniper was enamored with blowing-out-the-candles. She was too young to appreciate that ritual on her own birthday, but by the end of this night she was blowing out candles herself. Also, she officially ate sugar for the second time. But this time, she was bigger and smarter and learned to ask for more cake (or rather, point excitedly and say, Mooore?) and for the next several days we had to sneak cake while J bug was in the other room--or else share.

:: First pig-tails. (She pulled out the hairbands and tried to feed them to Osa shortly after this photo was taken.)

:: Evidence of what my family does when I leave them alone for half a day.

:: The growing collection on our windowsill.

'Night.

rocks & pistols

2011-03-16T00:20:00.003-06:00

In the years preceding my temporary split with Wyoming, I was a pretty outspoken little cus about the rampant oil and gas development in our wild, pristine part of the country. My public letters and commentary cost me more than a couple of job opportunities. I was loud enough to land myself in the professional world's equivalent of The Principal's Office on charges of insubordination. (But as my commiserating coworker's said, You're not doing your job if you don't have a letter of reprimand in your file.)

There are certain truths that I hold to be self-evident and in the twenty-first century one of those truths is: What's left of our wild lands should remain wild. I would go to the conservation group's meetings to help gather local steam and in the beginning I noticed two things: A) I was the youngest person there, and B) nearly everyone else was retired or had some other form of independent income. I found this both frustrating and depressing. Didn't anybody care? What the hell, Generation X, where are you? I heard people complaining in private, but they were all tight-lipped in public. Come on, people.

These are photos from the last week and actually have little to do with this story. Sorry.

This winter, one of the issues I've been following for almost 6 years came to a head with the publication of a draft environmental impact statement for oil and "natural" gas drilling in a mostly roadless area of the Bridger-Teton National Forest. (This is not your average Not In My Backyard, we *already* have it in our backyard--in the high desert just south of our forest the oil and gas development in the last ten years has been monumental.)

We are huge supporters of sustainable heating fuels.

Turns out, my fellow Wyomingites had one eye open all this time. They were waiting for a line to be crossed and when a Texas oil company came along and stuck one foot over the edge, holy hell, watch out. Hunters, anglers, ranchers, outfitters, hikers, bikers, bird-watchers, tourists, business-owners, high school kids, former and current employees of the Federal land management agencies, and oil field workers themselves came out loud and strong. "Not Your Average Treehuggers" their slogan reads. They stepped up to the plate with their spurs on and pistols strapped to their belts. Look out.

I am beaming with pride. Last week, the Forest Service expected to receive 10,000 comments on this proposal. They received 30,000. As a birkenstock-wearing, everyday, average treehugger, I feel like I only count for three-fifths of a vote in the wake of these shit-kicking, well-armed men and women. Between our three-year absence and a toddler, I am not as involved as I should be. Yet last week reminded me that those truths I hold to be self-evident are strong as ever and are now serving the new purpose as the foundation on which to grow my family. I want to show Juniper we can stand strong on top of our ethics and push the envelop for what is right. Get your spurs on and your pistols out, here she comes.

Armed with a handful of rocks and a giant heart...even better.

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:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

:: In other, unrelated, news maybe you noticed the spring-like dress in the above photo? The mittenless hands? We may have started the week like this,

But then we got some of this,

Which led to this,

And inevitably to this,

Then, ta da!, asphalt, mud, rocks and leaves.

Getting outside is becoming less of a dress rehearsal.

:: New words: knee, toe, nose, toy, pato, wallet, mouse, moose, chicken, wood, rocks, and--just today--Owen.

Favorite words: eyes, uh-oh, ow-ee, no.

Favorite new pastime:

And, three new molars.

:: One last thing. We're under contract on a house! And if it weren't for daily conversations with our banker, I could hardly believe it myself. Juniper and I have been busy drawing plans, sketching out a very necessary kitchen/dining expansion and daydreaming of where we'll set up her art table. I am sure you will hear more details in the coming weeks and months.

Thanks to everyone who weighed in on our small house/ big house dilemma. We went with your advice (and our own gut) and opted for the small house, awesome area. Cheers.

:: A final, random note: our Christmas tree continues to grace our livingroom window.

And, wow, did you really make it to the end of this War & Peace post?

a brand new soul

2011-03-06T00:58:00.003-07:00

Week before last, we headed to Montana.

We had been waiting two weeks to meet this new soul.

The ugly-beautiful drive was totally worth it. And when we walked in the door and they handed him off to us, I grabbed him by the armpits, supported his bobbly head and anticipated the weighty mass of the rest of his body. But, I'd forgotten. I wish I could cast the body-memory of a newborn in plaster like we do our nine-month bellies. It is so easily and quickly forgotten as our biceps grow right along with them, that babies are so...small. And the most shocking thing of all: young Samuel Fisher is a big baby. He landed into this world at 9 pounds 2 ounces and was probably already 11-something by the time we saw him.

I remembered how it is with a newborn: they seem so impossibly small and yet--when you think he was just inside his mother's belly--so impossibly huge. When Juniper was born I couldn't get over the small-bigness of her body. I couldn't believe that a perfect little human was right there all along inside my belly, and then was out. Impossible. It's really an amazing thing, this choice we have to procreate.

Look how comfortable we are. This is in stark contrast to the photos of me holding Sam's older brother Owen as a newborn.

Juniper was enamored with Sam. She would sidle up to us with her head cocked to the side and say in her sweetest voice, Bay-bee?

Sam doesn't like to be laid down; an arrangement that worked out pretty swell while we were there.

Owen turned 2 the day we arrived and I had knitted the brothers matching monkey hats. (Well, Sam's was originally Owen's...you know how these things work.) I didn't have a pattern and pretty much had to wing it, but I think they turned out awesome. I had to learn a new skill: intarsia (that's the face knitted flat into the hat) and intarsia-in-the-round...and then, er, re-learn it again two years later. Ahem.

:: Like last year around Owen's birthday, we hit the hotsprings:

Juniper could touch bottom and walk, which she thought was the bomb.

Sam was in hog heaven. I'm pretty sure he's already decided there is a God.

But our poolside Mama Bear, who undoubtedly needed the soaking most of all, was still a couple of weeks from midwife-approval.

:: I hope we were helpful during our stay. We cooked, we did laundry, we held Sam (twist our arms), we pointed out deer and elk and horses to Owen and Juniper (yes, all from the livingroom window), we mediated toddler spats, we hung out, we drank beer.

I never did feed the chickens. I'm not sure who fed the chickens, but it wasn't me. I should have. I'll need the practice.

Welcome to the world little-big Sam!

Gizmo & gremlins

2011-02-28T23:57:00.002-07:00

Today was one of those days when I called my husband at 3:30pm and without preamble asked, "When you gonna be home?"

I had spent two hours lying down with Juniper trying to get her to nap, and after she bit my elbow, scratched my face and then laughed when I said, "NO! That's NOT NICE." I got up. And because of that, Osa thought it was her dinner time and started her own routine of pacing, begging, leaning, and pushing Juniper out of her way to get to me. Oh, my mammals.

All of this wouldn't have been so aggravating if Juniper had slept more than a few hours last night. Last night, we put Gizmo to bed and awoke just after midnight with a gremlin. Like, a flopping around the bed, crawling over us, periodically crying but mostly jabbering (ball? bird! dad? door!) ALL. NIGHT. LONG. She crashed hard about an hour before the alarm went off.

The general consensus from my man's co-workers was: teething. But if June bug is under the influence of teething pains, she's what us adults would call a happy drunk. Really, I can't complain too much about a happy drunk.

So I hung up with my husband, blasted some Bob Marley (a tonic for the nerves), swung and danced my little gremlin around and topped it off with a pan of brownies (for me--Juniper got a tangerine).

Side note on the brownies: I added a half cup of pureed beets. It's true. (Dad, if you're reading this, I know you're gagging. It's okay.) Since feeding a toddler I'm in this Every Bite Counts mentality and I figure if you're going to eat something, why not get a little value out of the calories? Plus, I have a whole pantry full of canned beets and turnips from my 08 garden for which I am trying to find creative outlets. (I know. Who cans turnips? Me, apparently.) I have to admit, the batter smelled like ass--but the baked brownies turned out great! They had a velvety richness, as though I'd added a fair dollop of port wine. I'd give you the recipe here, but the actual brownie part was a little lacking in chocolatey gooeyness for my taste (I was also trying to use up some old cocoa powder). So, take your favorite brownie recipe, add a half cup of pureed beets and tell me what you think.

:: And this was absolutely NOT what I intended to write about tonight. Last week we were in Montana. And here is a sneak preview of my next post:

Introducing.....

Sam. Welcome to the world little man!

in search of home

2011-02-19T01:45:00.003-07:00

Tonight, a full moon dances silver light through rooftop icicles. Juniper is asleep in her crib. I am awake at the computer. My man has been away all week and Osa is somewhere farting. Thus begins our night.

Yes, we *still* have our tree up. The thing won't die, and we rather enjoy the warm, wintry glow.

We didn't get our *perfect* house. They didn't even counter. Now we are back at it: The Search. As of now, we are torn between two houses. One is big--enough space for a guest bedroom and then some--but in what we deem a dodgy area. The other is small--guests might get a hide-a-bed in the living room--but in what we deem an awesome area. I want the awesome, but fear the too-small.

Right now, we're in a really tight rental. Yesterday, I was overcome with a desire to take a sledge-hammer to the walls: an urge I have experienced on more than one occasion this winter. Is that normal? I kept chucking poor Osa outside, telling her, We just don't have room in here for a pacing, farting old dog--you have to go outside and chew on an elk leg. Sorry.

Juniper doesn't mind the lack of space. She just worms herself into little crevices and flirts with her own reflection.

My husband thinks we can make the awesome-area small-house work and I have to remind myself that it has a dishwasher and a garage. Two things we have never EVER had that can add a certain splash of easy living.

June bug has her two favorite things in the world in her hands: a ball and a bird. Really, shouldn't we all be happy with just a ball and a bird?

Even if we could afford the bigger house in the awesome area, there is a part of me that wants to fit snuggly, simply, into a small house.

On the return home from swim lessons or playgroup, J bug nearly always falls asleep in the car. And since she is non-transferable, I often end up sitting in the car with her. Needless to say, I've been knitting a bit.

And then, when our real estate agent shows us the whoppers, there is the part of me that envisions a small library, a room of my own, a kitchen where all the cooking tools and food fit in the cabinets, an out-of-the-way nook to start onion seeds in February, and an endless stream of guests sleeping comfortably in their own room.

But, we chose to procreate. And embedded within that choice is a conscientious resolve to make the next generation better, brighter. And I can't help but believe that a small house in an awesome area is more likely to take Juniper down the better, brighter path. One where she can maybe, maybe learn to eschew the gross accumulation of disposable crap that so permeates our lives. One where play is simple and families are tight.

I know we are only searching for a house, but sometimes it feels like we're laying the cornerstone for the future. Maybe we just need to relax, take a deep breath, and check out our bellybuttons.