walking and talking

dear little sprout,

i am having so much fun with you this week. besides all of the fun outings we've had--to the grocery store, the bank, the park, the beach, luma's house (once for his birthday party and once for a playdate)--just being home with you has been great, too.

you have been very sweet to choose this week to get really interested in walking. we've been walking all over the house together, and i think you just need a little bit of confidence to do it all on your own. sometimes you can walk halfway across the room very steadily, just holding one of my hands. i keep thinking that maybe tomorrow will be your big day, but you are taking your time. and that's just fine.

you're in the middle of a little language explosion. a few nights ago you said "night night" when i was putting you down to sleep. then next morning you fell down and said "uh-oh." later that day when i was changing your diaper you said "star". i didn't see which star you were talking about, so i said, "little bear, did you say star?" you said "yeah." then i noticed that the toy you were holding in your hand was a star.

so you are really communicating with me now. i like it.

luma's 1st birthday

dear baby bear,

today we went to luma's 1st birthday party. you brought him a dinosaur puzzle and he really liked it. i think it was his favorite toy.

everyone at the party thought you were very cute. and m. also said you are loud, which is true. you are loud. always hollering and banging, but with the best of intentions.

you were the most mobile of the four babies there, and just generally the most active. one of the babies your age stayed on his parents' laps for most of the party without complaining. like you would ever do that for more than 10 minutes. ha!

the more i get to know other babies, the more i realize how engaged you are with the world around you. eager to figure things out and get going. the worst thing i can possibly do is to help you when you are trying to do something for yourself. i am learning to intervene only when i think it's a safety issue, like when you put that huge piece of bread in your mouth today and i pulled it out to tear it in half because the crust was so hard i thought you might choke. you got mad, mad, mad--you pushed and pushed on me trying to get away, rejecting every offer i made to give you the bread back. until i distracted you by turning you around to watch the gift opening. then i slipped you some more bread and let you take your chances.

it's nice to see daddy feeling so much better. this week he went to his studio almost every day to do some recording. i admit i sometimes wish he were doing more to lift the burden off of me rather than holing up in his studio, but i know how much this recording means to him. and it's important to me, too. so i keep my trap shut and plod along and remind myself every day how lucky i am.

the momentum of love

dear snuggles,

i want you to know that i write you letters in my head all the time. while i'm cooking, cleaning the kitchen, filling your bottles and packing your food for daycare, brushing my teeth. but it's hard to find the time to sit at the computer long enough to get it down for you to read one day.

daddy started chemo yesterday. i went with him, just for the first time to see how it will be for him. we were at the hospital for seven hours in a small, drab room with no windows and an overly chatty woman in the 2nd chemo chair nosing into our business. daddy is doing okay so far with the folfiri. he only had a half dose of the irinotecan this time--the oncologist is starting cautiously and will increase it each time until he finds the limit of daddy's tolerance for the drug.

you are happy as ever. your favorite foods right now are hard boiled egg yolk, sweet potato (chunks of home cooked), banana chunks, and plain yogurt. you love feeding yourself, and now that you have mastered putting food in your mouth, you have started to put other things in your mouth, too. last week you found a small mystery object on the living room floor and popped it in before i could intervene. i stuck my finger in your mouth to get it out, but came out with nothing. you didn't choke, so the identity of the particle you ate will remain one of life's mysteries. today i had to fish two things out of your mouth: soggy paper from a magazine ad (you tore out the page while playing) and some orange peel (daddy gave it to you to hold, but you decided to eat it). so we're at that stage now. i hope we both live through it.

i have been thinking a lot about what kind of mom i want to be for you. what thoughts and behaviors do i want to model for you as you're growing up? what ways of seeing the world could i help you adopt that would be beneficial to you in your life? how can i help you see yourself as a strong person, a helper, a contributor, a speaker of truth, an upstanding human being?

i don't have a word for my religious beliefs. other people might call me an atheist, but that doesn't feel right and i don't use it as a label for myself. agnostic is wrong, too. i can tell you that i don't believe in "personal" god that thinks like we do and plays us like puppets. what i do believe is that the laws of nature are the ultimate truth. physics, biology, chemistry, mathematics, compassion, empathy, love. i am telling you this because it occurred to me this week as i was standing at the stove that the idea of god that so many people have, a god that listens to and answers the prayers of human beings, though farfetched in my opinion, is no more farfetched than the idea of you being born from nothing but will, biology, and luck. no more farfetched than the experiential arc of a single human life, the bewilderment of existence, the purposelessness of it, the joy of it, the suffering that sits on the sidelines for some and for others dominates the game from the very beginning.

i still don't believe in a personal god.

i do believe in getting up every day and doing the best i can.

i believe in the thrill of small beauty.

in the growth potential of hardship.

and most of all, in the momentum of love.

friendly faces

dear little muffin,

yesterday morning when i dropped you at daycare, you saw a little girl getting out of another car and you waved at her and very brightly said "hi!". that's something i really like about you: you have always been a friendly guy.

today, i stopped at the grocery store on my way to pick you up and felt myself surrounded by friendly faces. everywhere i looked i saw people who looked like potential friends--kind, fun, and funny souls. i don't feel like that very often, but when i do it's a great feeling, like the world is an open, safe place, rich and welcoming. i hope you will see the world that way as you get older. good things just waiting to happen.

you are changing constantly, transforming right before my eyes.

you now have the beginnings of two teeth. one is about half arrived, and it's neighbor has shown up fashionably late and is just sticking it's foot through the door.

you can stand by yourself now, entirely unsupported, for a surprising number of seconds before you teeter and drop onto your cushiony bottom. but only when you feel like it; never on demand.

you are very chatty. you have mastered mama, dada, nana, baba, and are now working on your g's. gaga and goo goo, etc. you can say ball ("ba"), you try to say diaper ("di"), and one day even tried to repeat after me when i said tylenol ("ty-o"). you say kitty ("ditty"). you say hi. you say yeah. and i'm pretty sure you've started shaking your head no and nodding yes, and that those motions in response to questions are not just coincidence.

you continue to be a wet and sloppy kisser, and when you kiss (sweetly suck/slobber on) my chin (always giggling) you seem to enjoy exercising your new teeth.

so much has happened since i last wrote. it's too much to begin to tell.

yesterday daddy had a liter of fluid drained from around his right lung. he seems to feel better now that he has more breathing room. he said the fluid looked like iced tea, and i'm glad i no longer drink iced tea or i'd probably just have had that pleasure permanently spoiled. we are waiting for the lab report now to find out if the fluid shows signs of infection or cancer.

it has been a long and difficult month for daddy and me. daddy rests when he's tired, but i've discovered a new kind of fatigue, a kind of tiredness that sees no end in sight. the words "no rest for the weary" often come to mind as i go about my days.

even still, i feel a remarkable amount of friendliness in the world much of the time. it leaves me hopeful. and i hope that hopefulness is something i can impart to you. or better, i hope your hopefulness comes from within, like a bubbling spring, requiring no effort from you, for all of your days.

10 months old

dear baby bear,

tomorrow you will be 10 months old.

you don't seems like a baby so much anymore. you're more like a very small boy now.

when i spend a lot of time with you i forget how small you are. then i see you from a distance and i'm surprised.

your first tooth has finally arrived. by arrived i mean that if i rub my finger over your bottom gum, i feel a sharp edge. i still can't see the tooth, but i think it's because you won't open your mouth for me to have a look. all in good time.

i am having more fun with you than ever. i love to play with you on the living room floor. we have all kinds of games: snuggle games and peekaboo games and kissing games and pattycake games and clapping games. you get the picture.

you also really like it when i gallop around the house with you in my arms, whinnying like a horse. the best part, you seem to think, is when i make horse snorting noises and stomp my hooves. you laugh out loud for my snorting and stomping antics.

you're a fast crawler now. when i leave you in the living room for a minute and walk to the kitchen, i can hear the thunk-thunk of your racing crawl on the hardwood floors behind me. you love to pull yourself up to standing by holding on the chair and couch. then you make your way as far as you can before you run out of support. you pull up on the piano bench to play your version of chopsticks (you can just reach the piano keys). you usually play piano in the morning, early, before daddy and the neighbors are up. ;)

you've been saying da da da a lot. i think you miss spending mornings with daddy before going to daycare. you had a lot of fun playing with daddy this morning, though, and i know he can't wait to hold you and play with you more as he starts to feel better and better.

what a rose tells my nose

dear little pumpkin,

happy first halloween. you went to daycare today in a little pumpkin suit with a leafy green hat. your teachers loved your costume.

daddy got home on friday and is doing well. he's been very tired and resting a lot, but every day he feels a little bit better. he has been going for walks every day and is now able to walk for a good distance--i would guess about half a mile or maybe a little bit more.

your auntie elta is gone and uncle jogr is here now. he has been doing lots of cooking for daddy, very nutritious and tasty meals.

i took you for our usual afternoon walk today. on the way home, tired, i stopped to smell a yellow rose. it revived me.

what a rose tells my nose: this moment, right now, is okay.

worn out, tired, dragged down. but elta's here.

dear booey,

daddy had a fever on saturday night. we had to go to the emergency room. i got you out of bed around 12:30 am. kast met us at the hospital, took you home, and put you back to bed.

i stayed up all night with daddy at the hospital. he had a ct scan that showed a large abscess near his liver and another one near his pancreas. he was admitted to the hospital and today he had the abscesses drained. it was a very painful procedure, but he is on the mend.

i have been unbearably tired after staying up all night in the emergency room and then coming home to you just when you woke up. after feeding you and getting your cousin teja to come over and stay with you, i went right back to the hospital.

last night i was hoping for solid sleep, but you woke up crying three times. it was hard for you to be woken up in the middle of the night and go home with kast. all night long you called for mama in your sleep. then when i left the next morning again you took it hard. so you needed some extra mommy time. when you woke up crying last night i was too tired to think or even look at the clock, so i just nursed you each time whether you needed it or night. it only occurred to me afterward that i could have just calmed you and gone back to bed.

you are in the middle of a big growth spurt. pulling yourself up, eating a ton, and sleeping hard. you have started taking some formula each day, which is a good insurance policy amidst all this chaos. now i can stop worrying about making enough milk for you. especially if i can't pump enough some days.

your auntie elta is visiting for the week. she is helpful in every way. she makes you smile and laugh. and she vacuums, too.