Fall, fabulous fall.

I’ve expressed my love for this tween season before. The summer heat is gone, but the winter blahs have yet to sink their teeth in. And can you get any more beautiful colors out there? I was taking a little ramble today to clear out the afternoon cobwebs and it dawned on that it’s the language of fall that I love in particular. Here is some of my favorite fallesque verbage:

Hazy
Toasted
Rich
Autumnal
Comfy
Warm
Snuggle
Tucked-in
Warmies (as in Get your warmies on!)
Pumpkin
Burnt
Nip in the air

On the sense side:

Sight – multi colored trees framed against a blue fall sky; Colin in flannel footy jamjams.
Sound – crunchy leaves underfoot, the way words carry in the slightly hollow air.
Smell – Roasting pumpkin seeds, faint whiff of woodsmoke in the air, a cold fall morning.
Taste – casseroles, hot lattes, comfort food.
Touch – Colin’s warm feet on my cold hands, kissing Rob’s chilly cheek after a walk outside.

Happy Birthday Colin!

Dear Colin,

Our sweet little bumble of joy, you are now two years old. Every day, month and year that comes and goes makes me realize that time does indeed fly.

You are now more boy than baby, but there are still enough squeezable chubs and drooley giggles to keep the growing up wolves at bay.

If I had to use one word to describe your nature, I would say joyful. You are a happy, wide-eyed, smiling and charming little man. Even in your solemn exploration of new things, a smile is lurking just below the surface, ready to break free at the ah-ha moment of discovery.

You are a cuddly wonder, giving out hugs to one and all, whether they asked for one or not. I am so happy to see this (and always thrilled to be a recipient), because one of my fears is that my own early-days fear of holding you “too much” as a newborn would make you withdraw from contact. You seem to have a special eye for little old ladies who are in need of a touch o’ bumble to brighten their day.

You make Daddy and I laugh at your sometimes-serious approach to play. You look like Opa the professor, and Grandpa the engineer as you study and figure and process with a furrowed brow and pursed mouth.

I am never more present in my life than when I’m with you.

When you come running towards us shouting maaaamaaaa! or daaaaddddyyyy! As if you haven’t seen us for days, rather than minutes, it’s so delightful that it’s a little heartbreaking.
Your temper is quick to ignite, but easy to defuse. I think you like to push the boundaries, just to see what’s on the other side. We try to stand back to let you fall to learn, but are quick to offer hugs and assurances.

I will always cherish the site of you in footy pajamas.

The unadulterated love you have for Soss is precious, and your non-prompted attempts to be gentle with him are a sure sign that you don’t really mean to try to squeeze the life out of him.

We can’t wait to see what kind of person you will be, but are enjoying this time in your life more than any other.

Happy birthday sweet boy.

Love Mommy and Daddy

It’s all fun and zen until someone says no

I need to find something that will get my motor running, in the exercise sense. In my brain I get all amped up to get moving, eat better, lose weight, blah blah blah. Then the low-fuel light comes on and I find myself parked on the couch yet again, with no motivation to actually move. If good intentions caused weight loss, I'd be a freaking size 2!

I have been wanting to try Yoga for a while. Always been interested in it, and the pilates I’ve done have intrigued me enough to at least make me turn my head when I drive past the yoga place next to where I get my nails done.

So I decided to stop in and see if they offered beginner classes. They were happy as can be to sign me up for a private introductory class where they assess your breathing, flexability and cetra for a zen-strodinary low price of twenty-five bucks.

I came in with an open mind, and was led through an hour-long session with my own personal yogi – a nice zenkid named Chad who didn’t smell like I had feared and was touchy in a non-creepy kind of way.

So at the end of my enlightening session (yoga does make you sweat by the way, or at least it does to my sorry out of shape ass), Chad just happened to have a book of options for signing my life away opening the door to personal zen.

The pricing seemed a bit steep, and the packages were in the plural month ranges, and seemed to require some $50 “uniform” and a registration fee. Not really something I wanted to get sucked into, considering my last attempt at a gym membership cost me $75 a month for a year, for a grand total of two visits (that is $450 a visit my friend).

My frugal chakra flashed bright red at the options (which didn’t include a la cart) and I started my not so subtle attempt to say no.

Little did I realize that Chad had a healthy dose of salesman in his non-threatening hemp yoga outfitted frame. I said I had to check with my husband on the expense and that I would get back to them. I hid a smile at his blandly delivered reply - "Do you check with your husband on every expense?"

So I did actually bring it up to Rob, who thought the price was steep but also thought it would be good if I felt I could commit to it. Then a little research brought up a few articles that accused this chain of being a front for a cult. Okaaaay.

I called the place to say I was going to pass, and had to endure a very not-zen session of excuse and counter-excuse and being put through their sales paces. In the end, they were obviously annoyed that neither I or my wallet was not going to be enlightened by their locale, and I hung up the phone to flee the bad energy coming through the lines.

Still inspired, I found another local Yoga center that seems more explorer friendly and I will go to a beginner class tomorrow to check it out. No uniform required. Per-class pricing if needed. How zen.

The Patient

We’ve survived our first surgery. The little man has had a weird cyst on his eyebrow for a while, and they said it would be better to remove it now rather than risk it getting bigger, and thus having a bigger scar. It seemed huge to us, but most people said they hardly noticed it. But then again I notice when Colin’s snuck his finger back into his nose for the thousandth time and I’m sure no one is aware of that, since he’s sly as a fox. A fox I tell ya.

Anyway, surgery day began at the butt crack of early on Wednesday morning. Had to be at the outpatient clinic by 6:30 for an 8am start time. We woke up the bop (breaking every parenting ethic against waking a sleeping child) and hustled him into the car, jammies and all. We hurried to check in and wait. They called us back to the little curtained room with the horribly institutional iron bar crib cart. Colin was by this time very interested in his surroundings as in, “hell no am I going to sit here when there are all kinds of things to explore!”

He let the nurses do their thing, charming as always. About a half hour before go time the nurses brought in a little cherry smelling gas mask and I felt the knots begin to tighten in my stomach. The anesthesiologist came in to give us the run down (uh, a little ignorance is bliss in this circumstance, thank you very much) and told us that Colin would be getting a little pre-surgery cocktail to loosen him up and help him forget the whole thing.

Cocktail is right! A few minutes after gulping down the koolaid (so to speak) our little boy was drunk! We got a glimpse of what no parent should see – their child bombed out of their head, complete with stoner eyelids and a heh heh heh laugh. It would not surprise me if the kid was seeing tracers. It was funny and a little heartbreaking all the same to see him in this state. However, it did make it easier to send him off with the nurse since he was giggling and chattering away.

After a quick forty minutes the doctor came out with thumbs up. He woke up a little rough, not surprising, but still hard to not be able to console him. But a cherry otter pop took his sleepy mind off the IV in his arm and gas/ox thing attached to his toes. A second otter pot helped us get him through the removal of said attachments and he was cleared to go home.

As we checked out, we had to pause and acknowledge that with all the drama swirling about the healthcare industry, we are lucky we are to have great insurance when we paid our $10 co-pay and walked out the door.

The ride home was tearful, with Colin wanting Daddy, and Daddy having to go to work. We hunkered down at home and made it through the day. Colin was happy to take a long nap and then a good night’s sleep.

Glad it’s over with, and our now not so lumpy boy doesn’t seem to remember a thing.

The Astronomy of Mom

My mother is my touchstone. The comforting and constant center of gravity upon which my life has always revolved.



At times my orbit is distant and somewhat cold, a Plutonian rotation set off by some ill-founded slight against my too thin for this family skin. Other times it’s as close and intense as mercury is to the sun. Over involved and full of fire, free with opinions on issues that don’t affect my daily life, but that I’m bound to weigh in on. Normally it’s akin to earth’s familiar progress – close enough to bask in the warm glow of rays, yet far enough to maintain an independent keel.

I’m the one that moved away. Given the freedom to go by the one who would never hold us back, yet always wants to keep us safe. I have never regretted the choice I’ve made to live life just a bit apart. But I do often wish the miles were fewer, the journey shorter, the homecoming more routine.

My mom has lung cancer. And my orbit has gone awry.

Not yet knowing the full picture, I founder in my habitual but familiar process of mixing optimism and (il)logic. I find myself trying to hold on dearly to my childhood certainty that my parents will always be there, no matter how far I venture or how many years I add to my own life. I avoid statistics. I cry at the hallmark store. I try to offer encouraging words, holding back my own fears and selfish needs. I listen to stories of recovery, offered as a comfort by friends. I pray in my own fashion, calling on angels and energy to heal and protect.

I hope.

Desert dreamin

We traveled to Palm Desert for a long weekend of rest and relaxation. The trip started off great, we got to thea;lsdkhf;aonewoayiuy,,… Hand over the keyboard mommy, I’m going to give the real story about this trip!

Colin boy here, ready to give a report on our first family vacation! It’s about time, guys. I’m almost two after all! You keep trotting off without me, well, this time, I wanted to go and see what all the fuss was about. Good thing Mommy got a good deal on this resort preview. She and daddy did a good job avoiding the sales pitch since we got a special rate to “preview” the timeshare. And Mommy said we better take one more flight where I get to fly free. Cause I'll be a two-year old soon and that's when the freebies stop.

We had a super early flight, cause Mommy thinks it’s better to get the travel over with early and still have a day to play. Daddy did all the packing and planning this time, cause he thinks Mommy gets too uptight when we travel. She said, okay mister, you do it all then. He did, but I don't think he realized what he was in for but he did a great job in the planning seat. So well that mommy might let him take over the travel hat.

Our plane was really really small, and I had to sit on daddy’s lap the whole flight. I didn’t really like that. Why would I want to sit still for three hours? But mommy and daddy had a good bag of tricks and I was a pretty good boy for the flight.

Our hotel was out in the middle of a bunch of sand and golf courses. Our room was really big! It had a bedroom, a kitchen and a family room (that’s where I slept), and lots of windows and glass that I put my paws all over. The best part was a balcony where I could throw bread to a family of ducks who lived in the pond right below us. They said quack quack a lot and I thought it was funny.

The desert sure has a lot of old people in it! But they all think I’m cute so they are okay with me. I gave out lots of hugs and pats for free and made lots of people smile. Mommy and daddy said that this place wasn’t really kid-friendly, but I sure made myself at home wherever we went so I don’t know what they are talking about.

We played in the pool a lot. I love to go swimming! I can float and blow bubbles, but mostly I forget and suck in the water instead. Yuck!

We went to see great-grandma MaryAnn this weekend. She is 97 years old! That’s like, a lot more old than I am! She said I was very tall and we played peek a boo. She laughed with me and smiled a lot. I gave her lots of hugs. I’m so happy we got to visit her.

We also went on a tram. It went up, up, up into a mountain. Mommy didn’t like looking down out the window, so she just looked up. I liked trying to get everyone’s attention! I was a little stinker in the restaurant and made Daddy all red in the face when I screamed a lot.

Getting home took a whole long long day. The stupid Horizon airline sent us through Boise to Portland, which daddy said makes no sense, especially when they have little guys like me on the plane and when I get crabby, everyone gets crabby! But I was a good boy and napped on the first flight. Then the dumb flight attendants put their noisy drink cart right in front of me and woke me up too soon.

Then the flight from Boise to home was delayed until 9pm. Mommy and Daddy were annoyed, but I sure had fun going up and down the escalator, the elevator and all around the terminal over and over again. Even though I was really tired, I didn’t want to sleep on the plane, so I just whined and cried so that everyone would know how tired I was. Mommy said that when I’m really mad and say/scream no! to everything, I sound like an agitated muppet. It makes her laugh, which makes me even more mad mad mad.

Boy, I was soo happy to be home and get into my own snuggy bed. I even slept in a bit. I have to keep mommy and daddy guessing!

That’s all for now peeps! This is Colin and I’m signing out. Peas.

I got hacked!

How cool is this. I submitted a toddler feeding idea to Parent Hacks (a cool tipster kind of blog) and they posted it. It's the one about asian spoons.

http://www.parenthacks.com/

So am I now considered published?

Trippin into Fall.

Fall is here, with a bang. Overnight our weather turned from Indian Summer splendor to Red, gold and get a coat. I seem to be in the minority in that I love the fall and the return of colder weather and dramatic skies. Especially since it brings out the fashionistas of the town, you know, those women who wear tights with their Keen sandals without a hint of irony.

I like to celebrate the return of cold feet on hot hubby cuddle weather with cooking favorite cold-weather recipes. This includes one of our all-time favorite recipes – hot chicken casserole. This casserole (sourced from the culinary masterpiece “What’s cookin’? the Thomas Jefferson Elementary PTA cookbook circa 1979) contains all the essentials of comfort food with none of those pesky nutritional considerations. How can you not love a casserole that celebrates the use of cream of chicken soup and mayo? Add a crunchy cheesy topping and you have manna.

I do concede that I use lite versions of the soup and mayo, and I use Special K instead of potato chips. But it’s still damn tasty! Colin enjoyed his portion and I hope he’s going to be a good eater this fall as I pull out my cold weather bag of kitchen tricks. This week I’ve been going gangbusters in the kitchen and I cranked out some healthy pumpkin muffins and also tried making applesauce for the first time. In no way does it compare to the saucy goodness that is my mutter-in-law’s recipe, but Rob declared it waffle-topping worthy (high marks my friend).

We harvested our pumpkins today. A bumper crop of two orange beauties! I am kind of tickled that Colin gets his own home-grown jack-o-lantern this year. I was happy to have my garden back this year, and this harvest was a nice culmination of our growing season.

In this corner...

I’m feeling defeated today. Beat down into the corner by a spunky little man who has big attitude and energy to spare. At daycare our little attention hound pushes, hits and/or pinches kids if he’s not the spotlight. At home, he pushes, hits and/or pinches if he has too much attention. He knows we’re not going to play that game, and yet that game is played. Constantly and always bracketed by rounds of hugs and luv luvs.

He fights us when we try to get him dressed. He fights us if we try to get him undressed.

He whines because he wants food. He whines because he doesn’t want to food we give him.

He whines because he can, and therefore he will. About anything.

He wants to pet the cat. He wants to squeeeeeze the cat. He wants to kiss the cat. The cat does not want him.

He cries when daddy leaves. He laughs when mommy takes him to daycare.

He…is two. And he's winning this round.