Bird Nest

Sliding Into Summer

After a dreamy trip to Seattle we are back and sliding into the Summer season.  Today we joined our neighbors and friends for Sunday Parkways - a six mile loop of closed streets for biking (and walking in our case.)  It was so sweet to hit the streets and watch as crowds of bikers and walkers took over the roads.  The loop passed through multiple parks with events and music.  Most sweet was watching old and young out on bikes, and of course all of the super awesome family bike setups.  I've been so inspired by these and can't wait for our sparrow to be a bit older for me to feel safe strapping him aboard.

Sparrow and I awoke from a nap to find Rooster and Jbird setting up for dinner on the patio.  I am so thrilled to get back into the swing of patio dining.  We felt a bit rusty figuring out the chairs, the set up, but it was so worth it to eat outside and enjoy the fresh air.  I'd love to have it all be a quicker set up, perhaps something Jbird could handle on his own - so we would be more likely to eat out there every meal.  I recall so many fond meals when I lived in Belgium on foreign exchange as a teenager, my host family always setting up the summer meals outside, even breakfast.  So many things I'd like to "move closer to."  I hope it's the summer we fall into new patterns, new rhythms, new rituals.

 

For Trees So Tall

Oh Dear, yet again, days have passed by.   Another moment passes and I barely to manage to celebrate it to the fullest extent, let alone capture it here on the blog.  Perhaps I'd be in worse shape without this blog biting at my heels.

Today we brought another chair and the baby seat for Sparrow to officially join us at the table.  It was so nice to look over at him and see his smiles and giggles (instead of watching him scoot around on the living room carpet while we eat.)  As a first meal, we offered avocado.  Hard to tell if he liked it or not, but he was fairly fond of the spoon at least.  I'm sure if I handed him the bowl he would have taken to that as well.



We don't yet fall into the solid meal time rhythm that I aspire to.  Sometimes it's a bit haphazard.  Often I am nursing Sparrow, or Rooster is still in kitchen, we all graze, or Jbird might be running back and forth to the table, creating some sense of boundless joy.  But I promise myself that someday we will have the discipline to follow through for all meals - having our "bottoms" on the seat, candle lit, blessing sung, hands held.  For now, we do that sometimes, and other times we just do parts.  It's a journey.  And the intention is there.

Tonight Jbird picked the following meal blessing, and we actually held hands across the table;
" For trees so tall, And sky so blue, For friends, family and food, We Thank You."

Indeed.

Exploding

 
These tulips landed on our dining room table for Mother's Day.  Every morning we sit at the table and watch how they explode and open further.  I keep thinking they are past their tipping point and yet the next morning they are reaching out even further, the colors even more determined to amaze us.

And this is in many ways reflective of how I feel about the family we have birthed here.  Our lives. Our little family.  My heart looks like these flowers when I take a moment to look around and see where I stand.

I feel so incredibly lucky.  Not in the sense that this life, these blessings have been handed to Rooster and I on a platter, but that we have found this path, this existence and somehow we have just floated through these smooth waters into the perfect spot.  I mean, we work hard and it's an effort to make things work.  It's certainly an effort to make things fit into the outline we've drawn out and dreamed of.  Some of our choices have not made things easy, a bit of swimming upstream to say the least.  But mostly, I'm amazed at how beautiful this thing is - this thing about being partners in this journey, about raising these children and creating our own little family.  Mostly, despite the grumbles and the cries and the heavy lifting, mostly our life looks just like these exploding and hopeful tulips.  It fills me with joy.  And I'm so thankful.

Sweet Mary

My Aunt Mary died this week.  She was fighting Leukemia and had been told that the treatments were not working.  There were very few days between that bad news and her death.  I hope that she found some sense of comfort, some peace in these days before her death.

Mary chose not to let anyone in at the end.  She would not let anyone see her or speak on the phone.  I think I understand her decision, her choice to close the doors.  And yet, I still feel so sad about it.  I readily admit that this is the kind of people we are.  We have the isolation gene in that side of my family.  I have this in my blood as well.  We are rocks.  We are islands.  We do not reach out and rarely let other in.  And yet, I can only hope that in small ways I am overcoming this "thing".  This thing that allows this to happen.  I understand it and have compassion for those that suffer this "thing". 

I wish that I could have said goodbye to Mary.  Or that my father could have said goodbye to his sister.  Or that we could have at least played around that awfulness and just made vague conversation, something to connect in the end.  Instead we are left with nothing.  And no memorial or way to mark this passing.  Just icebergs bumping in dark and cold waters. 

When my father called to give the news, I cried a bit, and asked jbird to have tea with me to create some pause in the day.  We had tea in her memory, "for Mary".  And yet, nothing feels done.

I know from experience that death rarely feels "done".  I feel silly to even look for that closure.

And yet recently, I have been thinking about death and birth and how we travel those journeys.  After our homebirth experience with Sparrow, I have been obsessed with birth and how our culture processes that experience.  And also death - the other sacred event.  And then there was that link a few weeks back, the photos pre and post death.  All of this has been floating and bumping around in my head for a long time.  I don't have answers.  I just know that it is so sad, on a deep level, how we face these two most important moments in our lives.  Or how we don't face them, how we run away, hide, or otherwise sterilize and de-humanize them.

And here we are.  Another death, pushed under the rug, as we are asked to walk past, turn our heads forward, look ahead.  Knowing there should be another way , a better way, doesn't make it clear that there is one.

Dog Tired

OK, I'm dreading each day that passes and I realize how behind I am in posting.  I have so many unfinished postings, photos not uploaded, etc.  And that stack still remains.  But I know it also doesn't matter in the end.  And frankly, I'm too tired to be that haunted by it.

My family has been sick and it seems I'm the last one to take the hit.  We have been eagerly planning some house renovations, getting the garden boxes ready for spring planting season.  Jbird has begun attending 2 half days at our local waldorf school.  Oh and also celebrating our 9th anniversary! (with an yummy dinner out, since Grandma Gail/MIL is in town visiting and could watch the sleeping kids...)

More soon, I promise.

Treading Water

So here I am, sitting here online, about to get sucked up in my email, blog reading, message board reading, knitting, and next to me sits a pile of "stuff".  Perpetual stuff that I need to deal with.  And each night I look at it, organize it, carefully re-stack it, and then put it back until the next night.  I feel like I'm barely keeping up.  Not a panic state.  Not unhappy.  Not freaking out.  Just that I feel like I am treading behind.  And that's not the kind of thing that generally sits well with me.

I am thankful everyday that I can be home to raise my children, to be a SAHM.  And yet, I'm daydreaming of going back to work, just for a week long "vacation".  Just to get a chance to go the gym (!) and wade through my big piles of to-do lists and "stuff".  I guess I had a pretty cushy corporate job and absolutely there were busy days of meetings and big projects, but I always had time to get my personal things done.  Now, between Jbird and baby Sparrow and the dishes and meals and nursing and all of the daily movements - I feel lucky if I get around to just a few things before I realize how very late it is, and kick myself over still being up. 

Ah.  So back to organizing that pile.  And putting it right back in it's special spot.  It will be there for me tomorrow night when I've put the babes to sleep.  And I'll probably just look at it, and re-stack the papers.

Things We Say

The Wall.  I know I've hit it when it's the last night of solo-parenting (rooster is out of town) and the dinner/pre-bed routine is falling to bitter pieces and I find myself yelling the following out of sheer mama-exasperation:
"Stop Doing That!!! Stop!  I don't want to eat dinner with the smoke fairies.  I want to eat dinner with the fire fairies!...."
(as jbird blows out the candle just after I've lit it for dinner...)

Do you ever just listen to the words that fall out of your mouth and wonder what in the world you are doing? 

A Big Bag of Little Fish

I cried today when I saw that little Sparrow is already erupting a tooth.  I remember how mournful I was at this stage with Jbird as well (yes, early teethers I have.)  While it is a true joy to watch a child grow before your very eyes, at the same time, it's hard not to mourn each stage as it passes, knowing it's so fleeting and delicate and easily sifted from the mind.  

Maybe it's all the photo projects of last month, maybe it's all the new sun that is finally streaming into our lives, but I keep running into reflections.  Little flickers that are so hard to document.  Just as the sweet moments, little voices, and awe-filled exchanges with little children.  All throughout the day, my boy says things that just make me smile.  I wish I did a better job documenting these conversations and reflections, instead, it passes, with little celebration outside of a smile or a laugh between Rooster and I. Like last night, Jbird asking to add to the grocery list - "A big bag of little fish" and a "glass of cold water".  Or this ongoing plot that Jbird seems to be working through about "when we die".

Jbird is very stuck on this storyline he has been working through this past week.  I can't for the life of me figure out where he is sourcing some of these ideas:

"When are we going to die?"
I don't know is my usual response...and then he launches into this possibility...

"When we die, we'll send our car to Kelly's (our friend) so she can put wings on it.  So it will fly.  And we'll drive it up into the sky.  And it will make squeaking noises."
"When we are ready to die, we will drive our car up there.  We will have Jane (our dog) and we will still have our eyes open.  For a lot of days.  We will go to New Seasons (our grocery store) on the way up there to get ingredients for cookies and gingerbread."...

So, this "when we die" story goes on and on.  And it's the strangest and most imaginative plot line I have heard yet from him.  Seriously, I can't think of anything that we have read or spoken of that would generate these ideas - specifically heaven or what happens when we die.  He does often speak of our old dog Lucy - and he always says that when she is better she will come back to us on an airplane. But beyond this, it's all new to me.  And I'm mostly just drawn in as he weaves this story.

Puddles

So, the old camera finally died, after months of sucking up battery juice like there was no tomorrow.  I'd like to say it was Jbird's fault, but really, it might just have been the slow life span of electronics.  There is no argument of needing a new and better camera.  Now it's just the annoyance of how to fill the multiple needs and not end up with 3 new cameras.  I'm still lusting for the nikon SLR, but for now we'll just replace/upgrade the simple one we had before and wait longer.  I have to have something that I can throw in my bag and not freak out if Jbird touches.  Of course, one solution is to find a camera just for him (but don't they always want the one that is in our hands?) I mean, I can't have a fancy SLR and spend all day ordering him not to touch it, not unless I have a better plan up my sleeve.  Do those "other moms" just have kids that don't try to handle/take things that are so appealing?

Ah, how to surrender to life with children.  This surrender is part of the daily growth and transformation I see in myself as I stumble through these tough days of parenting.  Learning to let go, and not freak out, and mostly to stop trying to control EVERY SINGLE SECOND AND DETAIL of my our life.  So what if something breaks, or is wasted, or is ruined.  In the end, I'm trying to keep (or maybe get) perspective.  The hardest thing is becoming aware of the unfortunate daggers that shoot from my eyes when I'm deep in a reactive state.  How did I get so hard?  How do I soften to be a better person, better parent and yet stay true to myself?

So, no fun photos of our walk today, when we had a 15 minute sun break through this endless Portland rain.  No photos of the beautiful sky and trees reflecting in the puddles that Jbird splashed in.  No photos of the adorable stitching that Jbird did on the stuffed felt hearts we made this morning while Sparrow napped.  You'll just have to imagine for now.

Light and Kindness

Forgive the slow posting.  A new baby is a great excuse.  But really, Sparrow is such a quiet and easy little bird.  It's the Jbird who is killing me.

I knew eventually the other shoe had to drop - and perhaps this shoe was dropping even prior to introducing the new baby into his life.  Jbird is a strong willed 3.5 year old.  STRONG WILLED, I tell ya.  Perhaps stronger than me, certainly stronger than I expected.  So much hitting and screaming and throwing from this little boy - and this I promise I can't blame on the ever present form of imitation. Meanwhile we are killing him with kindness.  I am treating every outburst as an expression of a need that isn't being met.  Rooster and I are tripping over ourselves to prevent these explosions, and to smother them with love when they happen.  I can only hope that somehow these feelings and hurts are draining from his little body and that soon he will feel some sense of relief. 

Okay, well, enough about that.  Despite the daily battles, we also have some fun.  Crafting, taking photos, building tent/forts.  Watching for the light in these dark spells, and knowing that things change every minute and soon these young children will be no longer so young.