Back to work week

Aaron started back at work today and I'd have to say that Haven and I had a successful day being back on our own. Let's hope there are more of these to come.

Aaron was off for almost a month, but two of those weeks were without any work at all - and it was great. It was so nice to have him around, to spend time together as a family, to get some things (A LOT of things) done around the apartment, to get away for a nice weekend celebrating our upcoming anniversary, and to hang out with some dear friends to top it all off. We got a lot done in terms of prepping for baby #2 and I think I feel sufficiently ready - well, if one can ever be ready. There are some little things to do these days, but I definitely feel like the BIG projects are done. And this actually makes Aaron's return to work feel not so bad - I know our weekends can be spent doing fun things as a family or a couple or whatever, but we don't have big projects looming over our head, threatening to consume our weekends. I feel some ease looking ahead at the next couple months.

With that said, my main task these days is putting in place some support systems for myself. I realized this spring that the film industry schedule is quite taxing on me now that I have a toddler and will soon add a baby to the mix. I reached my limit, oh, about the last week of April, about the time of that awful windy week. Or maybe it's that I learned that I had a limit, I couldn't continually say yes and take everything on myself. So, I'm trying to ask for help. Setting up someone to come watch Haven one or two afternoons a week. Perhaps finding someone who can come one evening a week. Trying to set up some regular weekend date nights for Aaron and I in the next couple months. And, my favorite, soliciting my friends to be my Dinner Buddies - people willing to enter the end of day chaos and help me feed Haven and myself (and them of course) and get Haven bathed and to bed. Some dinner for the buddies, an extra set of hands for me, as well as some companionship and conversation. I think one or two buddies a week would be a great help and people are starting to bite.

The support is coming together in fits and starts, but I actually feel good about admitting that I need help and support and then working to find it. It's not an easy thing to ask for, but I think I realized that the alternative - isolation and desperation - aren't really easy things to live with and aren't good for me or my family.

So that's where I'm at. At least today.

Something in the wind

Last week sucked. For many reasons and for more than I really want to write about.

The week ended with very strong winds and I generally do not like the wind. It is my least favorite weather element, ask anyone (well, anyone who knows my deep love for weather).

But a couple of years ago, Aaron's grandmother passed away in the middle of the night, in the middle of a windy, fire-breathing night. Sleeping in the guest room at Aaron's grandmother's house, I woke in the middle of that night, to a fierce rush of wind. The wind woke me, I would later piece together, at the exact moment that Grandma died. It was too coincidental to think it just the wind, not something more. For the rest of that year, it seemed to be fiercely windy on days of great remembrance of Grandma. And, however odd this will sound, it felt like somehow god was present on those days, in the wind.

And at the end of last week, my friend Sarah told me the wind was reminding her of the night Aaron's grandmother passed away. I hadn't thought of that myself, but it was such a great reminder - and on top of that, it was so sweet that Sarah had remembered that moment herself.

And then, out of the blue, one of my best friends from high school wrote to say she was thinking of me. And then another friend did the same thing. And then an old coworker wrote on my facebook wall to say that he missed me and hoped I was doing well. And then another old coworker wrote to say she was thinking of me and missed me. In the span of about two days, two days at the end of an ugly week, two days of crazy-ass wind, I'd had so many out of the blue "just thinking about you" messages from friends.

It was as if the wind, the powerful whipping wind, had carried pieces of me and my wounded heart to the hearts of my dear friends. Sarah had reminded me that god was present to me once in the wind. Perhaps god has come near again, on the wings of the wind and the internet.

Mother's Day

Today was my Mother's Day. Aaron is working next Sunday, so we thought we'd celebrate today (and by we, I mean I). It was mostly just a regular laid back sort of weekend day, a little quiet, a little sleepy, a little sneezy thanks to these gawd-awful allergies. This afternoon we made a visit to Huntington Gardens, where Haven had miles and miles of lawns and gardens to stretch her little chubby legs. The roses were in full bloom and Haven also enjoyed stopping to smell the flowers, as we've taught her to do on our neighborhood walks. She knows to pull to flower close to her nose and give it a big sniff - I was just glad she didn't pull any flowers off of their stems, which has maybe happened a time or two at her grandmother's house. Huntington also has a children's garden, completely with little fountains in which to splash. And splash she did. It was a great outing and to top it off we stopped for dinner on the way home at Paty's Diner in Toluca Lake, which I like precisely because it just feels like a diner and it feels a little small town, which doesn't often happen in LA. I had a breakfast sandwich and a cinnamon roll, Haven had a grilled cheese, and Aaron had a Reuben and an Arnold Palmer. We took Zoe for a nice evening stroll after dinner, with twilight sun and cool spring air. My evening is now mine - to blog, to write a few emails, and then maybe even read before bed. I'd say a pretty nice Mother's Day and a pretty nice end to the weekend.

Bye!

Haven has been cracking me up this week. There have a been a few times where I've wanted her to do something - or to stop doing something - and she has wanted to continue on with her pursuit. And so she looks at me and says "Bye!" and gives a little wave. Aaron calls it the Talk to the Hand. It's a little like that - she's brushing me off, hoping I'll leave her alone so she can just do what it is she wants to do.

The worst part is that it usually makes me laugh. Not sure that is the best response, but it's really funny!

Bye!

Spinning wheels

I am sitting in the living room, at the desk, rose-colored pictures of friends on the wall in front of me. It is twilight, the last of the light mixing with the ink of night. Cars zip and hum out on Camarillo. A cricket creaks in the corner; he is here for spring and presumably summer. I have set one song on repeat for the past hour, finding the mellow tune comforting. It reminds me of college, of watching the sun set over the lake, books piled around me, my life deep and intense, or so it seemed. Perhaps I'm nostalgic tonight.

Aaron is still in Santa Fe. He has been away the past few weeks, working on a movie, and has just a bit more to go. I miss him - we miss him, though I'm glad to report that Haven recognizes his picture - and I'm anxious for him to come home. The past month has passed remarkably well with my parents visiting for the past few weeks and helping to keep Haven and I entertained. But the past month or so has been a little melancholy too, I guess.

I have felt rather stuck, or like I'm spinning my wheels, on the verge of moving forward, expending a lot of energy to go nowhere. There are a number of reasons for this. We've had a car situation that is taking seemingly forever to remedy and all the while sucking the money out of our bank account (short story: bought old vehicle out of state and to comply with CA emission standards are having to do A LOT of work to pass emissions and therefore title the car). We readily admit this was a mistake, albeit a mistake that we could not foresee. Mistake admitted, I would like to move on but it seems like there are perpetually five more steps before it is completed. And with Aaron's absence this past month, we've just in general put our life on hold. I spent most of my time with my parents, who were actually staying out in Palm Springs (2 hours from LA, in the desert, where it was sunny and 85 degrees nearly every day, pure heaven for my father). While the sun and warmth and the grandparents were delightful, it was essentially three or four weeks away from our everyday life. I'm anxious to get back in the groove, to connect with our friends again, to catch up on our mundane everyday life again. To sleep in my cold dark cave of a room (ah!). And with this too, our lives on hold, the car stuff, the out of town stints, there has been little room for, well, nesting. Even before Aaron left, the car situation consumed much of our time and energy, especially on weekends, and left little room for much else. We have another baby on the way and I think the nesting instinct is beginning to kick in again - and, again, I feel like it's been hard to move forward on this, on the thinking and dreaming and planning of how to fit a new little life in with our already full life (and apartment). We've had little time to think creatively about our space (can we reconfigure this closet? what should we get rid of? what do we need to get for the new baby?) and I feel that time will run out sooner than we think. I sure wish weekends were three days long.

The last blog entry was about Haven on the verge of walking. I feel a little like I'm on that verge too, or at least I'm hoping so. I'm hoping that movement, walking running soaring, are right out in front of me, that soon my wheels will be unstuck and I will lurch forward (I'd even take lurching right now).

It's been awhile since I last blogged - six months or more? - but I wasn't quite sure I wanted to blog or wasn't quite sure what I wanted to blog about or what direction to take this blog. I didn't really want it to just be pictures of Haven and our happy cheery at home life, because, well, that just isn't me. I also didn't really have a theme or direction - you know, like in the movie "Julie & Julia"? - and I've decided that I just don't have a theme or direction, folks. But I think the writing is helpful to me, I think that the space to sort through, reflect, and report on my life is important for me.

So I think I'm back to where I was two years ago, where the blog felt a little like a letter to my friends, or even to me. There will probably be pictures of Haven, and there will probably be reflections on this job I have right now of being a mom, and I hope that's okay. Because that's where I'm at - and I'm grateful to have you along for the journey. Truly.

On the verge

For the last few weeks, Haven has been THIS CLOSE to walking. She's been doing an extraordinary amount of running around the table (video coming soon, Eric) and standing all on her own. Gradually, she's begun to push up to a standing position rather than pulling herself up to stand, which requires more balance and more leg muscles. And then, every once in awhile when she was just standing around, she'd take a step or two. Usually, she was distracted, chewing on a toy or some such thing, not realizing she was walking at the same time, and usually she would plop down once she realized what was going on.

We've been waiting for Haven to walk for the past couple months it seems, feeling like she is just on the verge of walking, that she is just THIS CLOSE. And for the past few months, I'd been feeling this great sense of - well, I'm not sure what, but this sense that we - all of us - were on the verge of something big, something momentous. This walking thing seemed different than all of the other milestones we'd hit in the past year, and there have been A LOT of them, seemingly everyday. Rolling over, sitting up, crawling, standing. But the idea that Haven would be walking soon felt like our lives were going to change, that somehow we were crossing a threshold for which there was no going back. It sounds dramatic, and I don't mean it to be dramatic, but I think there's some truth to this, that Haven is moving forward, moving out of babyhood and into toddlerhood, that we are leaving things behind as well as facing new and exciting frontiers.

A couple weeks ago we had a routine NICU follow-up appointment for Haven (the hospital checks in with their NICU babies every few months for the first two years, to catch any physical or developmental delays or issues). In our time with the therapist who does the developmental screening, she made an interesting comment regarding Haven's readiness to walk - she seemed to indicate that Haven might be physically ready (balance, strength, coordination - or whatever it is that goes into walking) but that she might not yet be emotionally ready. I asked about that, because in all of the reading I've done this past year, I'd heard no mention of an emotional readiness for milestones, or for this one in particular. The therapist said that walking is the first big milestone that moves towards independence and that sometimes some babies are maybe a little more grumpy or clingy for a few days when they make this transition. She said, too, that there are some theories that this is repeated at other milestones that continue this move toward independence (first day of school, moving away to college, etc). She said some kids breeze right through it, hardly bat an eye, and others maybe have this little hiccup for a day or two.

I found this really interesting. It helped me see this walking thing as not just a new skill for Haven to master within a certain timeline, because heaven forbid we don't keep up with the Jones's. No, it helped me see this as a developmental step for Haven as a person, as a whole person, that this has just as much to do with gaining balance in her legs and hips as it does with gaining balance in her relationship with me and Aaron. She is learning where her center of gravity is and how to propel it forward as much as she is learning that when she walks away from us we will still be here when she turns around or when she stumbles and bangs her head, she won't be left comfortless. And I think we are learning that delicate balance between when to hold one hand of her hands or two, or when to let go altogether. Perhaps this is a developmental step for all of us, not just Haven, and maybe that's why I've been feeling the drama, the gravity of her first steps so keenly the past few weeks.

Whatever the case, I'm pleased to announce that, all on her own and seemingly overnight, Haven is now walking (I swear, video coming soon). We have crossed that threshold, all of us. She seems pleased to be marching around like a little Frankenstein, arms stretched out in front of her as her legs, all wobbly and gangly beneath, her take choppy steps down the hallway. And I am pleased too, taking it in stride, this little person developing right in front of me.

Talent of the week: Supervising

Supervising the gardener

Supervising her grandfather while he power-washes the deck
"Grandpa, I think you missed a spot!"

Haven developed a talent this summer for supervising work being performed in and around our places of dwelling (our apartment, my parent's house in MN). A keen observer, she has spent many a Monday morning watching the gardeners blow leaves, whack weeds, and trim the grass. Thanks to her careful eyes, they do excellent work. She also used these skills as supervisor to guide my dad through the process of power-washing the deck (in preparation for re-sealing it). She was smart enough to keep vigil from inside the house, letting my dad work up a sweat in the heat and humidity, but she also held my dad to a high standard of excellence in deck washing, quick to point out areas he had missed or could improve. She sets the bar high but only because she wants to see us do our best in life, be it mowing or washing.