Calboy Adventures

Bubba Love

2009-12-28T09:08:00.000-08:00

Cal turned up the dial on Christmas. This year was even more frantic and dynamic and breathtakingly beautiful.

Cal danced for the first time, helped unwrap his gifts, was mesmerized by the boxes, opened a door by himself, marveled at Christmas trees, made “friends” with a 3-year-old boy, coveted a nutcracker ornament, went on his longest car ride (2 hours + from Grandma Cindy’s), and continued exploring the low range of his voice – growling and grumbling.

For presents, I poured candles in Cal's leftover baby food jars. They were inspired by him since he'll zero in on any lit candle in a room, and direct his pudgy hand toward them, uttering "hot." Well, everyone loved them, loved Cal's leftovers. One of the scents I affectionately named Bubba Love.

He was the pinnacle of the holiday -- walking the halls of people’s houses, pointing out the mundane and the beautiful, giggling with satisfaction, shadowing and snuggling with me. Receiving kisses and kisses so graciously.

He is a marvel. At Cindy’s party, one thoughtful observer commented, “He’s walking and he’s talking.” She said this with sincere wonderment. He’s connecting with the world like never before. He walks and opens doors and feeds himself and falls asleep in his crib and talks and signs. He is not even a year old.

This year has been a small lifetime. I know I’m not supposed to derive so much satisfaction from one little being, but he glows so bright that sometimes I can’t tell who is smiling. I’ve lost a bit of myself in those glowing eyes and elegant laughs. He’ll always have that piece of me, but that’s what I’d meant to happen. The pieces I still have are only stronger and better for it.

That’s not to say this year hasn’t had its dips and turns and difficulties. Mostly sleeping difficulties and carving out moments of silence and solitude. And I am forced to make choices every moment about what self I put forward. The pressure can seem oppressive, if you let it. This is no small matter. I’m helping to spin an important but complicated web of Cal’s first years; I’m planting so many seeds some days, it’s hard to keep track.

Yet I am the supporting actor in his play. He is resilient and perfect, just as whole as the sky is blue. I often say to myself, in the rhythm of the Christmas song: let it go, let it go, let it go. And someday, let him go.

That’s where I’ll leave you, and this blog. I’m starting a new one but these writings are so perfect and strange and of this time, this one year, that I’d like to keep them safe here, a part from everything else. Someday I’ll find them again and laugh at my naïveté and cry at Cal’s enduring beauty. And be humbled once again by the glory of first steps and ephemeral days of babyhood.

kiss, smile, suprise

2009-12-14T16:10:00.000-08:00

Calvin made us laugh hard the other night. He kept pushing his tiny face up against the soft purple chair and then snuggling his mouth into his beastly, behemoth white teddy bear.

“What is he doing?” Shaun said between belly laughs. I shook my head, chuckling.

Meanwhile he kept nuzzling everything soft around him. He’s been doing this off and on and I’ve finally realized that this as the first signs of kissing. Sweet, Cal kisses. Today Nana reported he tried to kiss Mill’s pig-dog Valentino; as small animals, they have a sort of kinship. Naturally, he’d want to smooch him.

Something else that makes us break into huge grins is Cal’s chuckling at the oddest, most un-funny moments. In the car, for instance, he issues short bursts of laughter for no apparent reason. And, I guess, why not laugh at 6:30 on a Monday morning? Life is funny enough without anyone even trying to make it that way.

I read this the other day – parenting is love in action. Yes there is a lot of love. But may I add this: it is also complete surrender in every moment. With each moment, let alone each month, Cal brings us sweet surprises, like those kisses. With each day he grows in unpredictable, beautiful and perplexing ways. Surprises seem to fall on us like rain.

an ode to November

2009-11-30T14:16:00.000-08:00

November has been Cal’s “industrial age.” I term it this because the whole baby paradigm changed in his 10th month on the outside. During November, Cal began pointing, climbing, walking and talking. This fistful of milestones has me joyful but also discombobulated. It’s sort of like the anticipation over something that we love like Christmas – you look forward to it and plan for it, but it comes so quick and you kind of forget how crazy the aftermath can be. It's wonderful, but things are different now.

I can’t wrap my head around this fact: just a handful of months ago Cal learned to sit well. Now he has joined the ranks of the ranting bipeds who tinker endlessly. I think parenthood is the best biological study of human growth that one can undertake.

And now we’re to last week, Thanksgiving. Calvin is a great host, the shining star of any party, the twin t-days were no exception. Our holiday was so full. For me, I can still taste the sweet and bitters of our huge meals, smell the perfume cloud of food at our house and feel the energies of bouncing human emotions. But Calvin was as happy as ever amid the storm of love and food. Even with missed naps and stim overdrive, he sailed on through with hardly a fuss (to tell you the truth, he’s more fussy at home where there’s not a stream of entertaining characters and in their place only me and our boring baby-proofed house).

Shaun and I took our first vacation days in awhile in preparation of fixing our very own Thanksgiving meal on Thursday. We were able to prepare for the holiday with the time needed to pick out and cook a beautiful and fine feast and also hang with our Bubbas. Shaun did most of the cooking (his mushroom stuffing was epic), but I made some oddly delicious bean brownies and helped with salad dressing while Cal was strapped to me. We also made the most of Friday, the buffer day between big meals, to relax and pack for the big Saturday dinner production in Nevada City.

I have to say, Cal is just hilarious at his ripe old age of almost 11 months. Around the 15th of November, Cal uttered his first words: light (mostly says and points to them to remind us to flip switches on) and hot (says in reference to candles, fireplaces and ovens). At first he was just experimenting, but now his delivery has gotten fancy – the “h” in hot is given much attention in the delivery, with Cal exaggerating the beautiful hissing sound and opening his mouth in an oval shape. Then suddenly the tiny “t” noise hits and the word is complete. He is utterly transfixed with all the things he calls hot and wishes in his bones that he could touch each of them, especially since he cannot have even one. This must be a part of their mysterious allure.

So Saturday, Cal showed my mom’s side his “Frankenstein” tottering and his affection for all things that flame. One particular memory I have is dancing to Michael Jackson in the kitchen while my Aunt Denisse moved Cal along with the beat. Cal beamed at us all dancing around him, like fawning fans, and giggled and cocked his head when I busted some of my special moves.

Attending family occasions can be utterly exhausting, but it is a treat that family members swoop in and steal Cal for chunks at a time so I can focus on others. Aunt Beth took Cal on multiple walks along the big evergreens to escape the kitchen buzz.

After Cal fell asleep on Saturday night, the eating commenced. At one point, my mom remembered that last Thanksgiving we’d each written a note to our future selves, with three sincere hopes and dreams for 2009. It was a twist on the traditional “I’m thankful because” and good use of the spirit of hope and family of last Thanksgiving (I think we all had our eyes on Cal’s impending arrival).

So we found the notes hidden up high and we shared them. I was touched by a truly common theme: hopefulness for a happy, healthy baby boy. And that is exactly what we have. What a blessing to feel the love and support that envelops Cal, that surrounds all of us. It's never been a secret, but this year it was louder and clearer than ever. We are blessed, indeed.

all in a week's work

2009-11-16T09:53:00.001-08:00

Cal is officially a toddler at all of 10 months. I was just getting acquainted with the quickness of his crawling when he took his first steps last Monday, on his 10 month birthday. Shaun and I missed it but we saw him take steps over the weekend, totally out of the blue (and of course not when we were ardently coaxing him to do it). The first time Cal was standing across from Shaun clutching the chair in our room, and suddenly took two tiny steps toward Shaun before falling into his signature crouch and crawling the rest of the way. Cal met this huge milestone so seamlessly, no face plants or big falls. Perhaps it’s because he’s been building his balance on furniture and our legs for months.

Wait, there’s more!

On Wednesday, I discovered Cal pointing at lights on the ceiling. Actually, a mom friend saw him pointing with his entire hand and mentioned that it looked like the beginnings of full blown pointing. Sure enough, the rest of the day we went around the house pointing at lights (sometimes his pointer finger would sneak out from the rest of his fingers, sometimes it stayed nestled with them). The gem for me was when we’d giggle together at the fact of his pointing. The pointing stuff is amazing because it means he can explicitly share his inner experience with us. And we can look into his eyes with this recognition.

Friday, Cal seemed to be squeezing his fist to indicate “milk.” He did this first when I was feeding him. And over the weekend, Cal was our tiny echo, mimicking words and sounds. Sunday night at dinner found the three of us making this wonderful smacking noise with our lips, taking turns initiating it! The amazing fact was neither Shaun nor I knew who started it; we were just this great continuum of sound interplay.

Walking, pointing, pitch perfect parroting, all in one week.

our time in tahoe

2009-11-06T14:51:00.001-08:00

Sunday we made it back from our first “real” vacation with Calboy. It was sad to leave Lake Tahoe behind us; I’m still recovering from the lake’s natural beauty, which is almost stinging. Since our cabin was perched high above Tahoe City, its driveway offered the world’s best view.

I thought having Calvin along on the trip would make things more harder, and it did in some ways, but it also allowed us (because we were awake and walking to get coffee to avoid rousing others), to experience two sunrises – one, an orange and pink glow levitating over a mirror lake, and the other, a clean light bursting from the tops of blue mountains. I breathed a lot deeper in Tahoe.

Thankfully, the weather was sunny and nice for Bubba’s first plunge into the Sierras. But of course, the morning brought ice into the air. For our walks down the steep hill into the funky-cool town of Tahoe, we layered Cal up, bundled him in a thick holiday coat with prancing reindeers and burrito-ed his legs and feet in blankets, his apple cheeks and nose bare and bravely facing the nippiness. Cal didn’t seem to flinch when he burst through the front door in the stroller, chug-a-lugging down the quiet condo-lined street, my parents and Shaun giggling at his bird noises. What else would we be doing? Though, we had a heck of a time trying to keep Cal’s warm hat on his head. We all but gave up on the glove notion because of his fiddling hands.

Every morning, we hit up Sid’s Bagelry for warm muffins with pats of butter (Cal had some too!) and coffee in for-here cups. Calvin sat nobly in his wooden high chair, trying to grab for our hot drinks, twirling in his chair and banging cups around. He studied new customers who came close to our table waiting for a moment of shared connection in which he’s smirk at the stranger and proceed to stare holes through him or her. Friday morning, Shaun spotted a burley beaver in its dam of sticks floating on the creek. Cal saw the beaver just in time before it exited under our toes on a roadside bridge. That was his (or her) only appearance.

Going down the hill, it was amazingly steep and hard; the area at the top with the dynamite view Aunt Beth named Lover's Leap. By the time we were plodding back up hill, it’d be Cal’s nap time and he demanded more and better entertainment to keep him fueled, so it was also challenging; and pushing that stroller up and up perhaps sculpted our behinds like no other exercise before. I was sore, but a good sore. It felt good to bust my butt a little.

Back at the cabin, parties were had, good food eaten. The whole weekend was hybrid Halloween and Ryan’s birthday. At one point, we played a game of who could stretch their elastic, neon skeleton the furthest, complements of Ggma. Millie wore neon-nail gloves and her and Matt carved pumpkins.

Nana bought a toddle toy for Cal at the local consignment store and we gave it to Cal and watched him blaze a trail across the living room. He alternated between wanting to play with the front of the toy (it looked like a cartoon slot machine) and steamrolling everything in his path. He’d go back in forth behind his “walker” smiling huge and big and bumping into people and things. Then, we'd turned him around. He giggled so much on the trip it makes my cheeks hurt thinking about it!

And let’s not forget Apples to Apples marathons with the world series streaming in the background. Mostly, I was just watching between walks and getting Cal down for naps (and walks to get Cal down for naps). This particular word game seems to be all about who is judging and how to judge how the judge will judge. Saturday night by the game’s end, some of the elders had crashed on the living couch and floor, even to the sound of pitched laughter.

When it was time to go, we said our good byes and Cal waved good bye at the crowd of departing family members (he's been doing this sporadically, but never for this long). When Shaun had to fix the car seat, Cal kept on waving good bye. We laughed at his resolve to master his beaty pageant wave for the crowd. It kind of melted us a little and it also made saying good bye to the crystal lake a little easier.

evenings are funny

2009-10-29T15:00:00.000-07:00

“Hi Bubbas! We’re home.”

Before I crack the door, he’s already crawling in my direction. I enter the house at 5:15, and I watch Cal speed racing toward me on his hands and knees, leaving our nanny in the dust on the floor behind him. Now that Shaun and I carpool, we arrive together, but Cal, grunting, bypasses his dad and dashes over to my feet where he grabs my pant legs and stands in front of me. It’s his way of greeting me after a long day away. I can’t help but revel in it. I smile and say hello then attempt to wash my hands. After, I pick him up and tote him around.

He likes when I’m holding him while Shaun makes him laugh. Half the time in the evenings now he is laughing; I mean, completely cracking up. It really sets him off when I walk down the poorly lit hallway and Shaun starts in after us making big monster noises and dramatically stomping around. I’d think this would scare him, but Cal thinks this is the cat’s meow. Even when Shaun’s not meaning to stage a monster chase game, Cal laughs when Shaun walks behind us. After playing all kinds of peek-a-boo games, we sit on the floor and I ask him about his day. He’s busy playing with something, but I know he listens because he pipes up in his own format. Later, while Shaun is starting dinner, we go to Cal’s room.

Trying to wrestle a huge cloth diaper and footed PJ’s on a 9 month old is probably my hardest physical task of the day. It takes lots of song and dance to get him unclothed, diapered, then clothed, and when he’s free of my confines, he crawls straight to the window draped in three panels of soft jean. He hides in the jean and falls over the thick curtains, all the while holding on for dear life and giggling. Sometimes this sort of thing would make him cry but not there or then. It’s funny.

I snatch him up and pop in his pacifier and he curls up clutching his blanket beside me on the futon on the floor, which rests beside his crib. We both breathe for the first time that day it seems. He nurses for a few minutes then I choose three books and most of the time he’ll watch me read them, only periodically grabbing at the pages. Lately, he’s interested in the parade of animals in Brown Bear, Brown Bear. Or maybe it’s the animal noises I make.

After reading, we say good night to his nightlights, formally known as Mr. Moon and Mrs. Star (they both kept their last names). Once I flip the switches, it’s dark. I power on the waves on the sound machine and I rock him for several minutes, singing twinkle, twinkle or humming. He knows it’s time so he just rests his head against my chest (he used to resist at first, now he just unwinds.) Once I say goodnight, I lay him in his crib on his side, he rubs his blanket over his hands and keeps his eyes closed. Eventually, he rolls on to his stomach, tucking his feet underneath.

As I slip out of the dark room buoyed by the eventful evening, Cal’s laughs still streaming through my head, it’s just past 6 so I have time to accomplish a few more tasks before putting myself to bed too.

the professor and the athlete

2009-10-23T12:17:00.001-07:00

I don’t want to leap to conclusions, but I think Cal is on the verge of taking his first small steps (one big step for Calvinkind!). Couldn’t resist.

For a while Cal’s been fluid and comfortable on his fat little feet, gliding around the room from chaise lounge to couch, and even using the wall. It’s the cutest darn thing to look down and find him clinging to your jeans, looking up to meet your gaze. He often prefers to cling to pant legs because, I think, it offers an ever-novel vantage point, and also, he prefers to stay close. Sometimes I surmise that it’s his very ingenious way of getting me to stop moving so frantically about and to stay with him while he totters, and it works.

More recently, he shuns our hands, and pulls away to stand alone for several seconds and then, when he starts to wobble, crouches to the floor. Last weekend Cal pulled this standing stunt over and over again (as if seeming to say: Look, no hands!), testing his muscles and balancing more frequently and for longer intervals. On Sunday, 1-year-old Oren, the nephew of friends of ours, came over to “play.” The adults were eager to see how the two adorable and positively different baby slash toddlers would interact, if at all.

Once the gates were released and they were put on the floor, Calvin crawled straight toward Oren to inspect our smaller than usual visitor. He tried to grab his face, but we intervened. Then, over the course of the visit, he kept trying to use Oren’s shoulders and head for a standing launching pad. Oren, who isn’t so much into all this standing and walking nonsense, just looked at a much bigger Cal as if he was an ambassador from another, more athletic, planet.

So it was Oren the kind professor with soft strawberry curls in his hair and Calvin the star sports player with short, aerodynamic fuzz, both spinning their own feats for us to see. While Calvin crawled fast and climbed on everyone's laps and clang to knees and couch arms to stand, Oren pointed at things and showed his sharing “tricks,” by gesturing and offering toys to people close to him. I think Cal can use someone like this in his life; I have a feeling sharing is nowhere near his top concern.

It was interesting to meet Cal's contrast. And it was also funny watching Calvin try to inspect and tower over Oren. But after they left I had a sinking feeling -- what will I do to teach my 90th percentile little guy to use his powers of diplomacy instead of his strength? I’m starting to think I gave birth to a Shaquille O’Neal. Unlike Shaq, I’m hoping, praying, Calboy will learn to play nice.

Letters

2009-10-19T08:11:00.000-07:00

October 16, 2008

Dear baby Cal,

How are you? I am so happy that someday soon I’ll get to meet you. I wonder if you’ll have a fuzzy head of hair and huge blinking blue eyes or a bald head and curious green eyes. Whatever you look like, I know you’ll be perfect. I’ve already fallen in love with you.

Do you know that we already play games? Mainly you kick me and I smile to myself, or you push with your feet and hands and I’ll touch you gently from outside. Often, you hiccup so it feels like a tiny earthquake rumbling inside my tummy (it kind of tickles!). Other times you are a boxer, others, a graceful dancer. You get stronger every week. You are so active these days. When I’m on the bus early in the morning, you’re already busy doing acrobats. You’re favorite time is after dinner when I’m relaxing (and you’re having a great feast!) and dad massages my stomach and we both smile and laugh at the thought and feel of you rolling around in your home. That is my favorite time too.

In fact, many people love putting their hands on my belly to feel you kicking. It is their first connection with you, so it brings so much joy to their faces. I’m so lucky that I get to spend everyday with you.

Sometimes I think of you as an astronaut, weightless and bouncing around in my stomach, restricted only by your umbilical cord. At this point (27 weeks) I already know you can hear my voice and dad’s voice, which is amazing. I also read today that you are sleeping regularly, opening and closing your eyes, and sucking your fingers! You’re also practicing your breathing for when you make the journey outside and take your first breath of air. Although I am so eager to hold you and meet you, I hope and pray you get to relax and grow in my tummy for many more months so you can be big and strong.

I hope you like cereal, peanut butter, salad, plums, apples, burritos, and a little chocolate here and there because these are some of the foods I love to eat. I also drink lots of orange and pomegranate juice, yum! As you grow, my stomach grows too. When I glance in the mirror, it appears I’m hiding a balloon under my shirt, but it’s really you in there. I love providing a warm and safe home for you until you’re ready to see the world.

I still can’t believe the miracle that you are. But I am so glad that we picked each other. When I first found out that I was pregnant, you were the size of a poppy seed and now you’re more than 14 inches long and weigh 2 pounds – like a head of cauliflower. And you’ll only grow bigger!

You are such a wonderful blessing. Keep on bopping and bouncing around and I’ll see you in a couple of months, when I can finally shower you with kisses.

Love always,
mom

October 19, 2009

Dear Cal,

How are you?

Last week I found a letter I wrote to you when you were in my tummy. I wrote it one year ago. I cannot believe how remarkable you are and how both our lives have changed since I wrote that first letter. I’m writing you another letter so that I can marvel next year at the beautiful arch of your growth. I will try to write to you each October. As the leaves change colors and season turns cooler, I’ll think about you and your cycles and changes.

A year ago I wondered about your looks – now I know you do have fuzzy hair and huge blinking blue eyes. Although I guessed that, I didn’t know how expressive those bright blue eyes would be or how funny and captivating you’d act with your smirks and your toothy grins. Or how soft that peach fuzz head would feel.

The shapes of your eyes are similar to mine – little almond lakes protected by your long black lashes. Their blue color takes breaths away. I remember now that your Nana had a dream you’d have eyes like mine. Your mouth reminds me of your Uncle Ryan – especially when your lips are shut and you’re acting noble or serious. I think you have your dad's height and itch to tinker with things ... that's just the tip of the iceberg. You express bits of all of us, yet you are your own beautiful you.

You’re a curious little boy. A lot of people use the word “aware,” meaning they think you’re paying attention and tuning into what’s going on. Many adults lose this ability, so it is a gift to watch you watch the world.

Last year I wrote about the games we played when I poked at your feet as they pushed on my belly. We play so many games now. You like peek-a-boo with blankets and you also chase after us when we peek out from behind things. We roll on the floor together and explore everything down to the zipper on my sweater. Your favorite toys are not really toys, but kitchen objects. You also like buttons and pulling drawers open. Anytime there’s something new, you crawl straight toward it. You are quick. I have to jog after you. You want to play with the phone and remote control, and grab at them every chance although they are off limits. You play drums on oatmeal containers, boxes. You chew on all kinds of spoons and other things and then drop them on the floor and watch us pick them up. Then you drop them again.

Your Nana cares for you most mornings during the week; your Nana and Pops take you on walks every morning. At their house, you like to pet the little doggies, play drums on many surfaces and watch Nana vacuum. Lights make you light up, and you really appreciate Nana's twinkly string lights that dangle over the entranceway.

You are mostly on the move but you are silent and still when you’re in the stroller on walks, watching the world so intently. You seem to like being in the backyard on a blanket in the grass or playing on a swing at the park, which makes you laugh. When you were a younger baby you enjoyed watching the leaves in trees sparkle and sway. Nature seems to calm you, and also music. I've probably sang bingo 100 times by now. You like it, so we keep singing.

You can do so many things now – stand without help (you do this a lot now, because you are mastering this skill), crawl, drink out of a sippy cup, grunt to tell us your needs, fall asleep (you take two naps like clockwork and your bedtime is 6). Lately, you’ve been trying to pull yourself onto things. Yesterday, we had an older baby over at our house and you were intrigued. You crawled right up to him and tried to use his shoulder to stand! You are tall and agile and have a short-hair haircut. You seem like a little boy already.

I told you about the food I liked to eat when I was pregnant; now I know some of what you like. At Tomales, you liked your Uncle Ryan’s tomato/roasted bell pepper soap. Ggma recreated it recently and you ate it all up. You also like sweet potatoes, potato soup, peanut butter, squash and green bananas, nothing too sweet. When you like something, you grunt and lean toward us so you can get in another mouthful faster. When you don’t, you put your fingers in front of your mouth and grunt, and we know you’re “all done.”

Something we really enjoy now is that sometimes you’ll lay your head on us and cuddle. So many people just like being with you, holding you, watching you seek out things, watching you bloom. You seem to enjoy their company too.

People say you will have a lot to say when you learn to talk, kind of like your dad. Whatever you say, I can’t wait to hear it. You teach me to be mindful of the world. And also to take action! I love our Wednesdays, when it's just you and me. You keep me on my toes; I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Can’t wait to tuck you in tonight.

Love you,
mom

bonks and booboos begin

2009-10-06T07:19:00.000-07:00

Blogger.com was down, written Friday Oct. 2

Maybe I’m getting old, but Cal has gotten slap-stick quick. He has mastered his crawling technique in a month’s time and now can burst into overdrive once he sees something electrical or dangerous to eat, or both. They tell you that kids seek out cords, plugs and everything off limits and you shake your head in ignorance until you find out that they do. I’m sure it has to do with novelty and that priceless “I can’t have it so I want it” quality.

My weekly Wednesday with Calvin ended with a sore back and all around fatigue. Don’t get me wrong, we had fun – especially at the park where, sitting directly in front of the bucket swing on the bark-padded ground, I pushed Cal and he swayed back and forth like a pendulum wearing a wide grin. He got quiet when I ducked out of view, then chuckled when I burst back into his frame. I could see his white bottom teeth glistening as giggles poured out.

Now that we’re homebound on Wednesdays (Shaun no longer carpools) we’re discovering the niceties of staying home. Grocery trips are replaced with walks and park trips. Eventually, we’ll venture out on the bus with our compact stroller, but we haven’t yet.

We spent a long stretch of time on a blanket outside, where Cal would pile on top of me or steal my glasses. That’s the other thing – he shuffles toward me with this beautiful grin (queue slow-mo) and just when I think he’ll nestle into my arms and give me a hug: he snatches my glasses and starts to mouth and inspect them, clenching them tightly in his fists while I try hard to wrestle them free. It’s not exactly like taking candy from any baby, he’s very strong. He gets upset when I eventually retrieve them, grunting with acute frustration and bounding after them, even if I put them behind me or under my leg. He knows that things still exist now. He is persistent about the glasses and I can’t help it because I don’t want to egg him on – but it makes me laugh, if under my breath.

The other thing is that his grunts have multiplied lately. My mom and I were talking about this last night at a friend’s fundraiser gala (my first night without Cal and without Shaun!). Calvin has so many desires and ambitions now, waiting to burst out, and they surface as these highly impassioned grunts. Sometimes, we can even extrapolate from the grunting and body language what exactly he wants; frequently, it involves things he can’t have. But the other day, Nana responded to his grunts at the decorative lights threaded over her living-area entranceway, which he’s always marveled at, by plugging them in; he smiled in approval.

Midday Wednesday I turned my head and Cal had pulled the stool over; it landed with a thud beside (thankfully not on) him, but he fell down with it. Emotion coursed through me as I heard his heavy breathing and crescendo crying begin – it made me tremble with grief even as I’d known he’d be alright. The stools were banished to the garage.

Our day together was speckled with grunting and bonked heads and lots of cuddling after my little adventurer’s accidents under the sun and in the breeze of early fall. Calvin is learning cause and effect (by way of hard floors and objects, and exposed outlets if he got his way). I’m learning to stay calm despite the mental anguish of watching him learn, and fall. I guess, welcome to Parenthood 101.

Running after Cal and absorbing so much emotion from his physics experiments runs a mom ragged. Thankfully, there are those two long midday naps – much needed rest for mama, and baby.

play, the original way

2009-09-25T11:02:00.000-07:00

Today I learned about something called original play, named and encouraged by Fred Donaldson, a psychology professor, and it really hit home to me.

My favorite way to play with Calvin now is to sprawl out beside him, on his mat or a blanket on the grass, and allow him to dictate what happens next. He usually crawls on top of me, uses me to practice his standing or finds something interesting on my clothes or body. We invariably end up tangled and moving, and we might start some game or another, like him trying to get my glasses and giggling when I turn my head or me kissing the bottoms of his feet. It’s like the most gentle, laid back kind of wrestling. He never gets upset. And it really connects us.

And apparently this is exactly what original play is – play like the dolphins swirling their bodies together in the oceans, play like the mom and baby lion tumbling easily on the savannah. According to Donaldson, original play uses fluid movement and touch to create a raft of trust between the playing parties, putting fear, aggression, cultural dictates and competitiveness at bay. The only rules, surprisingly, are for the parents: no standing, tickling or grabbing. The kids, therefore, get the lay of the land, but are cued by the parent’s behavior to be free and comfortable but set aside aggression. Of course, there’s real strength in this kind of play, especially as kids get older, just no one-upping or attempts to control the other person’s body.

I’m glad I learned about the positives of this type of gentle lolling and rolling around, of original play, which we already enjoy so much, apparently like a lot of other animals on this big, beloved blue marble.

Cal-dimensional

2009-09-22T14:54:00.000-07:00

Today is the first day of fall: the only season my sweet little son has yet to experience. Less than four short months and Cal will be one year old – crazy. My disbelief has less to do with time’s passage than Cal’s complete transformation from a totally reliant infant into this individual who crawls between my legs, recognizes words, imitates sounds, and perseveres after whatever’s in his sights.

And with Shaun working long, hard hours, I’ve been spending lots of quality time with Calvin. In recent memory, last Sunday’s lazy, hot and wonderfully long hours stand out. Cal’s great grandmother Kathryn was at our house all day and Cal spent probably three hours outside splashing in water, laying in the hammock and sitting in shade under the shade tree with her. During that time, Cal de-leafed a dead mint stem – plucking the leaves one-by-one off their perch and crinkling them to hear their melody. When I brought out a bowl full of water and bottle parts (which he promptly giggled at), he would alternate sucking on the toys, patting the water and methodically ferreting out any errant leaves that had landed in his tiny reservoir. He was sparkling, and in his element.

Last week at a moms club event, one mom led a discussion centering on temperament and behavior modification. Much of the behavior mod discussion wasn’t relevant to babies, but the temperament information made me think about Cal’s disposition, Shaun’s and mine, and how we all play off each other. Right away I deduced that Cal was different than myself (loud and intense) and more like Shaun in his many gregarious and outspoken mannerisms, but as I thought about it, I could see how we have some things in common too: his sensitivity and interest in others, his perseverance and focus, his vocalization of emotions. On an online quiz I took, we both were rated as “spunky” – but I think spunky in different ways. On another Web site, I found the “dimensions” of temperament, and wrote some notes under each:

Activity level. Calvin is generally squirmy and active. Although the natural world can bring out his relaxed side, he still craves new experiences and likes being on the move.

Regularity. Since he was born, Calvin has wanted to eat at regular intervals (2 hours), and, early on, started sleeping regularly without any schedule-setting from us.

Approach/Withdrawal. When Cal sees something new, he brightens up. He's happy to play "pass the baby" at a party! New people bring interest, and even though he has some stranger anxiety emerging, as long as I’m not in the room, he’ll interact happily with other people.

Adaptability. Cal thrives on consistency, but is open to the occasional schedule change, as long as his sleep is accommodated. Hey, he camped at a remote beach on Tomales Bay. I think his adaptability is thanks to his interest in novelty.

Sensory threshold. I would say Cal is more sensitive than not: he likes his bottle room temperature, sleeps only certain ways and with some coaxing (rocking) by us and prefers the feel of soft blankets. He will also wake up in response to racket (usually mine) in the kitchen.

Mood. Cal is quick to giggle, smile and smirk (he has a new, tight-lipped grin he sports nowadays), and lights up when he sees someone or something he likes. When he cries, we know he really does need something — and it’s usually comfort, sleep or a helping hand.

Intensity. Cal definitely seems extroverted – he laughs and cries loud. He also "talks" a lot. If he is unhappy, he makes it known. Generally, he enjoys making noises, like squawks and high-pitched squeals. His new MO is repeating sounds he hears.

Distractibility. Calvin can be highly persistent so it depends on what he’s being distracted from – if it's sleep, he likely won’t be distracted easily. If it's a toy he's passionately moving toward, he also won't be happy. But if it's a worthy distraction, it might work.

Persistence. If the item is new, Cal will play with it for some time. If it is something he wants and it is off limits, he will stop at nothing to get it in his tiny paws!

your Cal fill for today

2009-09-14T12:01:00.000-07:00

I don’t want to forget …

Cal’s windshield wiper feet, when he’s excited they sashay back and forth; the yoga “downward dog” pose he’s suddenly acquired and keeps practicing to great hilarity; how he uses our sprawled out bodies as a way to get up on his feet and stand and how I secretly love it because it’s a way to get some rest; catching his gaze and looking into his eyes as if I’d never looked at anyone before; while rocking him to sleep, resting my chin on his fuzz head and him not minding; loving and resenting my status as the parent with the magic sleep touch; how he cemented his crawl technique on his 8-month birthday; his giggles before bed and frantic splashing in the bath tub; Ggma’s constant stream of $2 bills; how he’s started sleeping like a frog on his belly, legs and feet folded neatly under him; his determination to get anything that lights up and has buttons into his mouth; how Shaun says “I always know how to make him smile,” and how I think he’s right; his ticklish belly and thighs; how his squeals shatter silences; his quiet curiosity; his discovering the crinkly beauty of dead leaves, pinching and rolling them around in his fingers; how he raises his hands and grunts to be picked up, and then becomes quiet and contented in my arms; the moment we reunite after a long day at the office.

Because of course, all this will change tomorrow.

Cal's spell

2009-09-08T14:59:00.000-07:00

Cal brings out the best in people. He unlocks love and softens edges. Just hold his gaze and fall into his sea-blue, sea-deep eyes and you are under his spell. It’s remarkable.

When I’m with Cal, strangers talk with me (or to Cal then me asking about him), people smile wide and long, eyes speak joy, and people no longer care about acting strange and looking funny as long as Cal talks to them or responds to their quirkiness with glee and twirling feet (he does this, it’s brilliant).

On Sunday, we visited my dad’s sister, Julie; it was Cal’s first time meeting her. They were intrigued with each other; Cal kept grabbing at her lips and looking at her intently, and smiling too. He ate a banana at Starbucks and actually liked it. We were out all day (a rarity with naps now) and G-gma Joyce kept saying, “He’s such a good boy, isn’t he,” while beaming. During the almost hour car ride home, Calvin took special interest in the water bottle I had, sucking on the lid and shaking the water inside. At one point he hissed in frustration as I took big gulps. I gave him the bottle. He didn’t want it. I poured him some water in the cap and he lapped that up. He knows what he wants. Then he started this roller coaster fit of giggling that lasted a good 20 minutes. He’d giggle with the bottle fully in his mouth, and stop. Then he’d giggle again. Then he squeel. Then giggle. Nana and I were just watching and laughing. My cheeks were sore from it.

Then back to our house for dinner (Shaun had been at work all day) where my dad said what a gift Cal has been to us, to our lives – absolutely. Part of the joy comes from that unlocking of love of everyone around Cal. He lets his emotions flow unabated and authentic, as he hasn’t fashioned a filter, which invites others to let their love flow without restraint too. While we teach him language and our worldly customs, perhaps we can learn his love-without-borders ways.

Maybe we can all take a queue from Cal and permeate joy for joy's sake.

OK, the other part of course is that he’s unbelievably cute, which, yes, goes a long way to crack shells and melt hearts, including, first and foremost, this mom’s.

it was him

2009-09-03T09:08:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I think it's so plain now that Cal was the one twirling in my tummy when I was pregnant, just eight months ago. I think “It was him the whole time, he was the one kicking and hiccupping, especially in the evenings and after lunch, he was the one bounding about in the womb,” like somehow it is so utterly obvious now, after the great mistery has been unveiled.

I guess that’s because I can’t really remember what my life was like before the addition of this whole new person, this fantastic flower of a human being that just keeps evolving. The puzzle piece of what is Cal has fit so seamlessly into our picture.

His screeching at frustrations and talks with strangers and store clerks; his tapping hands, like bird’s wings, flapping as I breastfeed; his catlike big blues fluttering curiously; his fingers (sticky like any good gypsy or petty thief) snatching everything on the counter’s edge; his legs in a diamond shape and his hands clutching his blanket as he sleeps; his laughter that is almost tangible and fills the rooms of our house; his perfumed body smelling of solids and breast milk and Cal all on the tips of his hair; his bright face and puppy cheeks unapologetically real, greeting me whenever I enter a room; his gaping smile, so very authentic it makes me want to cry.

All this is so captivating and real that it seems I should’ve known it was him all along. It’s amazing how quickly this whole new person who you can't believe didn't always exist, grabs you and changes you.

two week catch-all

2009-08-31T14:09:00.000-07:00

So much to tell. I’ve been sick and busy. An ugly cold greeted me during the day Thursday and I went home early and stayed home Friday. Calvin might have caught it before since he had a runny nose and some trouble sleeping.

Saturday night Calvin pulled himself to a standing position in his crib, fingers cupped over the end of his crib, marshmallow legs holding the whole operation together. It was close to 7 p.m., an hour after his bedtime. Both Shaun and I were tired and wondering what was up with the little mover. After rolling and hoisting his body up and down, he finally just stood up and stayed there long enough for me to cross the house and see his two-toothed smile beaming in the glow of the baby monitor. It was the look of triumph. Then he shifted his foot and lost his balance, landing on his bottom. But of course, he was up again the next day.

The practically crawling and the full-blown standing – all this has seemed to happen in a week. I mean, he’s been on the verge of almost crawling for awhile, but now he’s up on all fours at all hours – yes, at night too.

I feel like Cal is a great audience member for comedy acts of all kinds now. He really gets funny things. Sunday sitting in Cal’s room right before a nap, Shaun wrapped my rose-colored scarf(that I use as my breastfeeding cloak) around his head like a turban, over-emphasizing some cartoonish accent and comical facial expressions, and Cal laughed and laughed. Then Shaun made other hats then some hair, followed by more laughter from us, the peanut crowd.

Shaun regularly hoists Cal upside down, dangling him by his legs and asking comically for his milk money. It’s kind of cute. Although I either close my eyes or issue the warning: be careful now you sillies. Cal smiles a toothy grin and giggles. They play what we call affectionately and plainly “the blanket game” involving any sort of blanket and the basic peek-a-boo premise. Shaun has also taken to walking the house with Cal, holding his hands up while Cal takes steps – left … right … left – in a beautiful and timed fashion, almost like a tiny but incredibly adorable almond-eyed mechanical doll. He’s getting so good at it I can’t even believe it. They started this, what, like a week or so ago???

On Sunday, he showed off his walking at Chevy’s on the River while we celebrated my cousin’s 16th birthday. Calvin wore shoes for the first time – dark brown loafers – and took some aided steps that the crowd lapped up. As usual, Cal was tossed over the huge table, zig-zagging his way up and down, of our party of at least 20, sucking on spoons and eating fresh avocados.

Another thing, Calvin got his first real hair cut two weekends ago. I thought of his hairdo as like an old man’s – the strawberry blond hairs grew lush around the back and sides of his head, and made tiny tents over his ears. There were also long puffs up top. I wanted to keep the sweet wispies, but Shaun insisted we cut it to one uniform length, which was probably a good idea. Shaun drove over Cal’s head with his beard trimmer on the two-notch setting while we sat in the bath. The resulting ’do was a buzz cut fit for the military. It makes him look like a little boy; this is perhaps why I resisted.

Reading "the books" I can’t believe what amazing things are on the horizon: the first shows of empathy, as well as kissing, sharing, signing, and first words, not to mention crawling, walking and running. Oh and also many more falls and rough-and-tumble than a sensitive mommy can effectively handle. That’s where dads come in so handy.

After the Mexican food, we ate cake for my cousin’s birthday on a hillside overlooking the river aglow in afternoon sun. The breeze felt good. A family friend and little girl Sammy came up to me and asked if my repeated attempts to rock Cal to sleep in the carrier, for his much-needed late afternoon nap, were wiping me out. “It's hard work being a mom,” she said. “So why do people do it?” I smiled but was temporarily dumbfounded.

I got my answer 20 minutes later when Cal lay burrowed in my shoulder, fast asleep, with slivers of choclate and carrot cakes ready to eat in hand. Although you might have to wait a bit longer to join the party as a mama, the cake tastes a million times better, and life, spoon fulls sweeter.

nighttime nursing as a blessing

2009-08-27T09:46:00.000-07:00

I know I promised no more sleep stuff, but I couldn’t resist sharing what I read a second ago:

A desperate father came to the master for advice. "We cannot go on like this, please give me guidance," said the man on the verge of tears. "We have ten children, and we live in a one-room wooden hut. In the small yard, we have a goat that gives us milk. We are too crowded and the conditions have become impossible." The master responded slowly and confidently, "Bring the goat into the hut," he said. "What?" asked the perplexed man. "Bring the goat in," repeated the master peacefully. The man went home and because of his great trust in the master, and in spite of his wife's protest, brought the goat into their one crowded room. Things went from bad to worse. After one week the man couldn't resist and went back to the master. "Master," he cried out, "The goat in the room is not helping. It is much worse. Please help!" "Take the goat out," said the master. The man leaped with joy as he rushed back home with the great news. The family found that ten children in one room was a blessing. - Mothering Magazine

Similarly Calvin’s two-a-night awakenings, once annoyances, have been uncloaked by trial and error and shown for what they are: blessings, as well. I really could not see this before. Well, I didn't mind them so much but I saw them as something to fix not accept. All I saw was cultural labelings and what experts say about Cal being old enough to go without food for the night. But breastfeeding is an experience in addition to nourishment. It really is a moment in time, a space for us to just be.

So after attempting to get him to go full nights without nursing, I found that those feedings mean a lot to Cal and to myself and that I don’t mind them, especially when juxtaposed against an unhappy and tired baby and mom and dad. Less nighttime feedings also diminished my supply, something the experts don't mention often enough.

I hold close those gentle and quiet moments at dawn with my son and think that we’ll let go of them when we’re ready. Now that we’re back to our usual nursing times, I get up without a negative thought – for I know these are but fleeting moments in our lives and that they’ll soon become apart of that cherished and elaborate quilt in my mind made up of our fondest memories together.

pain and progress

2009-08-21T10:33:00.001-07:00

Restfulness is not underrated. During night two of our new routine, Cal cried a lot less and got himself back to sleep quicker – I could not believe it, around 15 to 20 minutes instead of the 45 minutes or more the first night (I was almost ready to throw in the towel after four of those episodes in night one). I could see him dealing with the problem and casting about for ways to soothe – he sucks on his blanket and pulls its soft edges against his face; he babbles to himself and turns to his side or to his back. After his morning feed today, I left him in his crib to get ready for work and he went right back to sleep, amazing.

I know that big changes can be hard fought and slow to catch on, and that first steps forward many times don’t mean squat, but my psyche revels in the progress of night two. I needed the confirmation that something would give. I take solace in the fact that Cal is not alone in the process, we sit by him, I shhh, talk to him and I trace circles over his soft blankets on his belly. I’m proud of him. And oh it twists my insides to watch him struggle with getting to sleep, but I am also proud of myself for setting limits and guarding our sleep time – mine, Cal’s, Shaun’s.

It feels like one of my first big tests of parenthood in doing something I don’t want to do but that I know is best. It pains me to watch people struggle, especially my small, innocent and bright-eyed wonder boy who depends on me to guard him, and to guide him through most everything right now.

I’d rather struggle than watch; that rings so true because if I was him at least the pit of my stomach wouldn't ache. But sometimes it is not about me. Struggling can be rewarding for the struggler when the obstacle can and is overcome; Cal is capable of this feat. That is one of my great lessons as a parent.

... I'm taking a break from sleep posts; being awake and with Cal tumps really any nighttime development. Next week, I'll tackle Tomales and try to capture Cal a little in words.

getting out of sleep debt

2009-08-17T16:04:00.000-07:00

I … need … sleep. The experts say there’s a sleep banking system; if so, I’m in the red and have accumulated debt little by little, spending a little more energy each day than I can replenish by sleeping. I get enough sleep, but not the kind of stone-cold sleep I got before Calvin joined us on the outside, and that’s OK, because all I’m on the prowl for is something like a five-hour continuous stream of sleep.

I’m not normally this tired. Albeit our struggles with getting our son to sleep, I haven’t lost bulk sleep in any real way. In part, I think, it’s because Cal sleeps tucked up next to me and I can meet his every three-hour squawk with a tummy rub or a feed and lull him back from whence he came. I have enjoyed snuggling at night with the baby boy and I’ve adapted to sleeping with an arched arm that swerves over Cal’s head and acts like his own private entryway to sleepland. But my sleep tricks are increasingly met with resistance and have become less, not more, effective over time. And I dare say a couple of times last week I spent several hours bouncing Cal to bed on our exercise ball – jiggling us both into a stupor of sort, my whole body tired and Cal frustrated because we were getting nowhere fast. The thing is that I’ve given my sweet boy no tools with which to get himself to sleep or back – and that’s gotta change. In addition to that, I’m the only one at my house who wields the magic touch at sleepy time.

So this week, I will ease Cal into his own room and use a routine I read about where we stay with him but slowly introduce opportunities for him to soothe himself to sleep, moving further away. I’ve stalled this tack before because I feared the crying, but I, or Shaun, will be right there with him while he learns his new skill (I keep replaying this part to myself in my head). Right now, we’re in the stage where Cal and I sleep on Cal’s floor to get him used to the idea that his room will now host all sleep activities (which is one reason for my lack of sleep today – futon sleep ramped up on anxieties from the upcoming sleep changes, plus my usual rounds with Cal, left me awake, not asleep). But I’m sticking to the idea that this change will be a good thing, and that we’ll all emerge, in some weeks, with bigger bank accounts – and the puffy eyed blues just a mere memory.

back to blogging

2009-08-13T14:13:00.000-07:00

I’m dodging this blog like a phone call from a longtime friend. I’ll get back to you tomorrow is what I think with the friend and the blog, but tomorrow quickly devolves into at least three days. There’s so much to discuss its daunting. But it always feels good to get the latest news off your chest and into the world, so I’m here. It’s just that with this small hiatus, I’ve found myself stuck and unable to do justice to the beauty of what is unfolding before me, and then I turn into this tragic irony – an idle blogger with mounds of material. I’m trying to break that chain.

To be fair to me, we’ve been really busy – Cal went to his first Tomales, which happened to be a very memorable one. I’m going to dedicate an entire blog to our adventures there. We also picked blackberries along Scout’s creek the weekend before, for Nana’s birthday. And especially in the last few weeks, I’ve felt like a single parent with Shaun’s hard days and late nights at work, leaving me the sole evening and nighttime parent and only resident housekeeper (thank goodness from some outside help from our nanny). I can’t imagine doing it like this forever. I am grateful for our support systems. And finally, work has been busy and I’ve taken on a handful of new writing commitments to quiet that little voice in my head that says: write! So far so good.

Lately I’d say the theme to Cal’s evolution is boy on the move. Cal pounces on his prey, which is usually some form of kitchen utensil, without a speck of hesitation. From a sitting position, he lunges forward and ends up on all fours then grunts and whines with furious frustration at his inability to really get going. If you are sitting beside the little man, he uses you for climbing architecture. Cal becoming mobile will surely be a heralded day, but we are waiting on bated breaths for when he can sail across a room because then we’ll have to get off our butts ourselves.

In addition to his menu of breast milk (he has gone on a permanent strike from formula, which he’s only accepted a handful of times before), our little buggy eats regularly now, mnostly backyard squash and a little farmer’s market avocado. But his newfound food fetish is wonderfully spiced and beautifully tart tomato soup, as discovered by happenstance at Tomales. His Uncle Ry made a tasty soup to pair with our grilled cheese and, on a whim, Nanna Anna gave him a lick. He wanted like 20 more licks. We had to move him to basically prevent him from licking the bowl clean. I made him a soup yesterday from our Romas and Big Beefs that I hope he’ll enjoy one inch as much.

He was seven months old Sunday. This sounds way older to me than six, so I have to gather myself up a little because I’m already mourning Cal’s babyhood, which is far from over. And of course Cal seems like a toddler, tenacious and big for his age as he is. Now that he’s older, he doesn’t always smile when I do, and I have to be much cleverer to get him to laugh. Although, when he’s really tired he’ll laugh when you just stare blankly at him. Cal’s also way more absorbed with the world than my face (OK that was bound to happen) and is only happy with peek-a-boo for a few rounds. On the flipside, his awareness makes him sensitive to sounds and movement (he cries when I drop things or when the little dogs bark) and he still requests to be held most of the time, and knows who’s doing the holding. So although I’m not his whole world, I’m an integral stage hand, which works.

“Dada” is by far Cal’s favorite phrase. He says it as a song, a question, a statement, and a monologue. My favorite is when he whispers it into the breeze and you can barely hear him over the hum of life. You can tell the “dadadadadaaaaa” has different meanings depending on context and tone, but the two letters used is constant. To say the least, the resident dada likes this.

Cal definitely has teeth now. Two kernels on bottom – they look like little nubs of corn. He’ll only show you when he has the hugest most wonderful grin on display, which completely melts my heart like butter.

That’ll have to do for now.

tomales, tomales

2009-08-03T14:28:00.000-07:00

I started writing this last year because I missed our yearly camping trip. I finished it last week. It's more for Cal than about Cal. Cal will go to his first Tomales this Thursday.
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When I was a kid, my brother, sister and I would sing our own version of a song from Annie. “Tomales, Tomales, I love you Tomales, you're only a day away.” We sang it once we reached the hills near the gritty bay and smelled Eucalyptus trees, inserting the time increment for how far away we were from our yearly affair with the bay.

My family clan and some lucky friends gather on a Tomales beach most summers. We’ve returned yearly for more than 40 years.

Our bond to the bay and each other is so unique and compelling in this spiraling, quick moving world. The bay stays on our smelly breaths long after the sun sets on that last Saturday night. Our hairs persist of campfire smoke, a full and nauseating smell, through triple lathers. When we open our camping bags, sand slides and scratches uncomfortably in the vinyl cages. The aftermath of unpacking is so daunting that it almost assuredly gets put off … and put off. But all these annoyances are small beans compared to what Tomales Bay is for us.

To cross the Tomales Bay and lay claim to our sandy cove on the other side, we need a boat – enter the newly restored Tomales Tomato and Capin' Beth and second mate Abe. The bay itself is 12 miles long and a couple miles wide and relatively shallow, occupying the west end of a rift valley created by the San Andreas fault.

During the day, we keep busy chatting as we peel off clothing layers, like super ripe bananas, as the sun peaks then sinks in the sky. By night, we wrap ourselves in blankets and squeeze around the campfire, always on alert like birds of prey for breathe-easy areas and meditating on songs from the past, laughter circling from the fire to the sky, hours dense with honesty, guitar melodies, and sun-recovering faces lit up by smooth flames. We stoke the fire and tend to it like it’s our collective child. If it’s clear, you better believe the stars are out and bright.

There is an elaborate cooking schedule at Tomales, with each of us taking turns threading together beach-wide meals, which are really events in themselves, rotating people and cookware in and out of a camp kitchen that operates like a Rubik’s Cube – the food is gourmet, but camp style, and there’s lots of it. No one goes to bed hungry. There is much preparation before we even go.

Packing for Tomales starts weeks before. We max out our cars with food, clothing, books and games, but we only use about a tenth of it. Yet a collective anesthesia promises we’ll bring the same truckload of crap next year – although we try to consolidate things. To account for the camping largesse, we certainly do our best to help unload boats (or feign sleep) and share leftovers, giving of our food as we give of ourselves.

There are famous Tomales lores – like when cous Esa ate sandwiches with snail-track slime, the adults staged a discovery of shark bone jaws for Ry, and the many myths shrouding Hog Island. There’s also those way-back days when our hippy elders showed us their white behinds through photos (now imprinted like search lights in our minds), partied through the night, and camped on the beach in garbage bags, getting slicked from dewy mornings.

Then there are the carefully etched memories – gray whales caught in the bay at night singing under a bright moon; high tide one year kept us awake as it flirted with the faces of our tents and singed the fire and sent us scurrying like frantic mice on a sinking ship; weddings and love celebrations; Aunt Beth fearlessly swimming to Hogs Island; an eager troop of hikers temporarily lost while taking a “short cut” and young Abe, suffering from stinging nettle’s prickly wrath, asking us to leave him behind; the time I peed in the soap bucket; Shaun asking my family if he could formally join it; Aunt Scout’s discovery of an entire male elk that died close to campsite by a creek; the time when Tomales tomato shut down and left some in the middle of the bay and others freaking out; the artful picnic table we embraced with paint and left at the campsite and used it for years; and my dad flipping and piling on pancakes until lunchtime – in addition to countless other warm memories.

And don’t forgot those hazy but juicy sweet childhood memories – pretending to be black beauty by cantering along the rubbery wet sand; sitting on the warm, lighted night ground against my mom’s legs; Mill’s bucket aquariums; cous Erick covered in slimy bay bottom; collecting starfish and Ry naming the kinds; Captain Kirk as more myth than man; hours spent folded in half at the knees to get close to animals; running in the pack of wild cousins; and getting goose bumps from those huge crab claws making guest appearances from fractures in the rock – we felt brave as we prodded them with sticks until they pinched in response, sending us flying.

Finally, there are the perennial items that we can always look to – black seal pinheads bobbing in and out of the horizon like mirages; barnacles and stranded jelly fish as enemies of our bare feet; Nick’s Cove; bird songs coming and going in the morning; pelican beaks; swaths of seaweed salad; pouty-lipped anenomes; a cool, gray start to the day; games played with passion; politics and emotions; day hikes; the shit hole; the cafeine/coffee vultures; a jovial clan around the fire; music; cuddling with honeys; slick hair and natural smelling bodies; guac gone a second ago; belly laughs; and lots of shared stuff and memories.

I have this funny question: what if our real life is Tomales Bay and the rest of it is how we keep busy? So our livelihood consists of sandy tents, smoke smell that clings to jackets like small hands, the vague uncomfort of salt lips and damp pant legs, no clocks or phones, days of brilliant restlessness, the real work of establishing shelter and making food, hiking through the thick of what nature has including prickly grasses and poison oak just to see an inch of the ocean, and nights where warm, sand free socks bring us a world of comfort. That sounds pretty authentic to me. Our life beside this estuary is something to behold. It is something to bequeath to our children.

All of this is why those first adventurers boated over, and why we still do. If we skip a year, so be it. It’s not a perfect tradition, but it’s ours. No matter how you play it, we hold in our palms this sacred possibility and this silent magnetism that asks us, despite the daunting task of preparing like mad people and only barely dealing with the aftermath, to return.

If not tomorrow, than Tomales, Tomales, someday soon.

bubba love

2009-07-30T14:19:00.000-07:00

Oh I just love having a baby around. Every day I fall in love with the little guy all over again. Yep, mothering is so much more challenging than I ever thought possible and it takes every grain of my being to stay calm and composed about 10 percent of the time. (For instance, when Cal didn’t fall asleep until 9 last night – which wrung me out like a towel and left me energy-less. It was because we had a friend over and he doesn’t sleep with strangers in the house. Yes, he is super aware of these things.)

But, it’s so meditative and life affirming to watch my little boy grow and flourish and I think I would cross oceans just to hang with him even if we weren’t genetically linked. I’m mesmerized by those eyes and how he tinkers to discover the underbelly of things.

Yesterday after Cal’s last nap, we went out in the backyard so I could line dry his diapers. He sat in his little u-shaped pillow until he careened backward and then he stayed lying on his pillow with his head angling upside down for several minutes, just looking at our tree. I wish I could’ve had temporary entrance into his mind to discover what he was thinking – I especially wonder what’s turning in those wheels when he gets fixated stuff.

I can’t really describe it, but how he is just makes me laugh and smile. Like when he says “dadadadada” under his breath to the car window on the way to work, when he wiggles his body in delight upon seeing a friendly face, when he squeezes and flexes his fingers over and over, or when he pinches people’s cheeks and lips when they lean close, leaving them wincing and struggling to talk. Also, I love how he sits up like a regular person until suddenly he falls to the floor, like a felled tree, then blinks and moves on, and when his face completely folds in on itself, puckering and seeming to say: “you just offended me by giving me that, how disgusting,” when we feed him anything besides squash. I also can’t get enough of his squeaks and loud, purring breaths, especially when he’s tired – I guess only a mother would actually think that is cuter than anything on this planet.

beautiful, beautiful, beautiful - beautiful boy

2009-07-27T16:05:00.001-07:00

I have to share these pictures with you, taken by our dear family friend. They are from the garage sale we had this past weekend; it was wonderful time, a group of us spent the morning outside with new and old people. Anyway, with the pictures, I just can’t believe how remarkably these photos capture Cal's moods and his lovely character. And I love the luscious lighting on his face and how his blue eyes just leap off the whole scene. He’s such a gorgeous little man.

boy meets girl

2009-07-27T15:55:00.000-07:00

At a friend’s birthday on Saturday, Cal met nose-to-nose with a sweet 10 month old girl who just two weeks before learned how to walk. Shaun supported Cal as he stood facing his new friend (he was almost exactly her height), and both babies began their detective work, reaching out hands and navigating each others’ faces. After a few seconds, the baby girl gave a Tarzan-size yelp, stretching out her vocals with euphoric glee, operatic style. Cal immediately looked puzzled and then began to cry out of fear and confusion from the sudden and acute outburst. We tried not to laugh but it was hard not to given the mixture of sweet and sad and funny. After that, we called Cal’s new girlfriend a man eater and consoled Cal regarding the turbulent matters of women and love.

Cal's five.9

2009-07-21T16:43:00.000-07:00

Shaun first felt it Saturday – it’s a sharp, stubby pearl coming up in Calvin’s mouth! The tooth is on the left side of his mouth. We thought he’d been teething for awhile – due to nighttime wake ups, but it wasn’t until over the weekend that we discovered it, it was like finding a diamond in the rough or chocolate chip in some vanilla ice cream. What a wonderful discovery!

Anyway, I know you’re feeling a drought regarding Cal’s five, so here’s six for you until I write some more (for real) on Fri.

1. I play this game with the snake puppet, Sylvie. I slither toward Cal from about a foot away and make funny hissing noises. Cal gets this fire in his eyes and a case of giggles. It’s like he knows to laugh right when I start, I think he remembers it being funny from the last time.

2. Last night while Shaun was laying Calvin down in our bed, ever so gently, he said something so plain but so wonderful. “He’s really beautiful you know.” But not matter-of-factly. He said it like his beauty just completely came out of nowhere and hit him over the head. Like it was so bright and blinding he had to say something. Then he smiled then walked away.

3. Cal hung with his G Aunt Beth on Friday morning, and then she called to thank us for making such a wonderful creature, like we had all the ingredients lined up and planned the whole thing. She said he is sweet and sensitive like me and has Shaun’s fun-loving and friendly disposition. The best of both of us. I sure hope so. It’s funny that for all the ridiculous jealous feelings I’ve ever felt toward others, I want my son to blow me out of the water in terms of talent and beauty and characteristics. Anyway, he’s amazing, just like Beth said. And the fact is he’ll always be amazing no matter what he does or how he evolves. We're just here for the show.

4. On Sunday, we finally marched outside to tend to our garden, which is really a jungle. The tomato plants are so overgrown – the Romas have resigned themselves to growing horizontally. Our beans have climbed higher than the wooden tents, so their tendrils just reach out into the sky. We have about four huge pumpkins, already. Anyway, it was potato-harvesting day. Calvin was set up on a blanket and watched. We dug like terriers into the rich silt soil, and Shaun and I uncovered more than 75 potatoes – ranging in size from a marble to a large man’s fist. Then, Calboy sat on my lap while I cleaned our harvest, at one point almost leaping forward before I caught him by his belly. We were similarly outside on Saturday. I filled a huge bowl of water for Cal and plopped in various bottle parts so that he could splash in the water, and get some good finds to chew on. Like a deep-sea diver, his little hands sank to the bottom of the bowl and recovered all kids of chewable delights. It was hot even at 10 a.m. By the time we were finished, Cal’s legs were sparkly and wet, but he didn’t seem to mind at all.

5. On his play mat Sunday, I collected the rainbow stackable cups (his favorite toy, btw) and set them in front of him. He was sitting up. First he grabbed the yellow. But after spying the red one in the corner of his eye, he chucked the yellow and grabbed the red quick. That was before he saw the purple one, which he quickly snatched up. He kept trading out cups for the color du jour. It was so sweet watching him change his mind and fly after the next one. I was dazzled by his intrigue and gusto.

6. I counted – when Calvin sits, he has four belly rolls. A quartet of rolls! Also, he has two thigh rolls and two ankle rolls, which are very tiny, but so very beautiful.

nanny to the rescue

2009-07-17T10:26:00.000-07:00

In case you’ve been holding your breath since my Monday blog, I want to tell you some information that will let you breathe normal. Things have settled down around our parts – the ocean is quite calm (after the storm) and the skies are bright and indigo blue. We all feel more or less like ourselves again.

Monday afternoon we learned an important piece of the puzzle that’s restored our trust in the good and decent people of this world and made it possible for us to keep our wonderful nanny. We’ve also tinkered with the situation to make it better (I’m still not at home all day, but I’m dealing for now).

The whole ordeal has summoned to the forefront of my mind something that we all know but forget about a lot – sometimes, actually a lot of the times, impossibly challenging situations as well as dramas big and small are bubbling just below the surface of otherwise normal-looking people. You figure everyone is just honky dory and you’re the only one dealing with hard stuff that you can’t shake, but it’s probably the opposite. And it’s hard to remember that.

I recently finished the book Bird by Bird and I can’t stop thinking about life through Anne’s quote’s, so here goes: “I have come to think of almost everyone with whom I come into contact as a patient in the emergency room.” This is what puts her in the mood to give, she says. That’s a good way to orient yourself, I think, because in this world, every Joe and Jane is dealing with some kind of emergency unbeknownst to you, so it’s important to be as delicate and kind as possible, especially when you don’t want to.

Which brings me to the next point. I had a moment this week when I acted completely monkey-like, dumping my frustrations on my dear husband. It was after my most cherished Wednesday, and I just felt awful after putting Calboy through another suite of shots at his six-month appointment. He was cranky for the remainder of the day and I just stayed with him, holding him and neglecting every household chore, even during his naps. My husband was less than cheery to come home to see the house undone, and I snapped at him after he asked me about it. Everything came crashing onto the shore – the emotions of the week, the emotions wrapped up in Cal’s shots, my exhaustion, and that deep-seated nagging of not being or doing enough, awakened by that one comment. But of course my husband had his own emergencies, including a very long and challenging workday and an evening brimming with yet more to-dos.

So we’re all recovering from or overcoming something. With our nanny, she is facing something exponentially more difficult than the dereliction of dirty dishes, so our hearts reach out to her. Even so, I hope she knows that she’s saving us a little by bringing such beauty, love, and consistency to our sweet baby Calvin.

oral stage hello

2009-07-16T15:53:00.000-07:00

What Calboy’s gummy little cave has been chomping, sucking, and mouthing on lately:

*The bottom of drinking glasses and glass bottles – the colder and more beverage condensation the better.
*Whole hard tomatoes from our garden – we watch in case he breaks the skin.
*Chins, shoulders, legs, hands, knuckles.
*The side of the bath tub.
*Blankets at bedtime.
*The backside of pacifiers.
*A magazine – the last for one we’ll be reading together for awhile.
*The hard yet soft corners of board books.
*The lip of the kitchen counter ledge.
*A baseball rattle before I confiscated it for BPA reasons.
*The doctor’s hand.
*A touch tone play phone at UCD Mind Institute (we were lab rats for an hour).
*All parts of the stroller, especially the tray and frame.
*Bottle parts and plastic food containers.
*Hyland’s Teething Tablets
*His cute feet, meaty thumbs, and tiny fingers.
*And of course, his toys.

(But not much food so far! Though he has tried blueberries, potatoes, carrots, avocado, & oatmeal. He makes a funny face and gives a tiny gag, but we'll keep up the effort.)

through the clouds

2009-07-13T09:47:00.000-07:00

My little shining star sits now. And, when he’s lying down, he pulls his head up like he’s doing a miniature sit up. I try to tell him that it’s just easier to keep his head down because he’ll probably have to do those pesky sit ups later on, but he has this drive in his eye and he does them anyway. He’s so darn curious about the world that he won’t just lay there complacent. Nor will he sit pretty on my hip as I hold him. He grabs everything. But sometimes he’s surprisingly gentle when he gets something in his had, and he’ll just barely grace something like a lady’s long hairs or someone’s mouth with his fingers, touching it like his index finger is a feather.

Life is funny. Last night we found out that we may have to get rid of our nanny. She didn’t do anything egregious, she just overstepped the line by a small bit – but the outcome is the same no matter how far you cross the line. You might think that this is the worst thing that could happen. And it was for a second. But sometimes something better comes into sight through the clouds. Maybe my sister will watch him or maybe someone else who will work out better over the long run. The answer is out there some where.

Just a second ago I was sitting in the pumping room and balling my eyes out, reading Anne Lamott and wishing that I could just stay at home. I’ve done everything I can from this perch at work – I pump and spend every minute with Cal when I’m at home. But there are some things you just can’t do when you’re not there. You can’t touch and see and hear and be with him when you are away. You try but you just can’t.

Things seemed just fine on Sunday, before there was this crack in our armor. Once the crack happened, the egg busted up and there it was – the yoke. It seems plain as day now that something needs to give. I pray that we’ll find the best situation for us, somehow discover that good spot for our family. In my wishing to stay home, I know even that wouldn’t solve everything. Even if paying the bills wasn’t an obstacle, staying home wouldn’t be perfect. But it would be not perfect with Cal.

mr. six months

2009-07-09T14:57:00.000-07:00

Everyone was right, it all goes by much too fast. Cal is growing so fast that I feel somehow I’m missing it and it’s falling through the cracks of my fingers, like sand. Tuesday night when he was sleeping it hit me like a pitcher of cement – Cal won’t be my little bug forever. I was so relieved that the next day was Wednesday and I’d get to contemplate his pudgy feet and thigh rolls, memorize the sprouts on his head, and see him first thing after naps when he’s still so cuddly and full of coy smiles. I think in the past week he’s turned into something else, something more boy that baby.

I see myself kissing him nonstop – maybe I’m holding tight to this era when I get a free pass to smooch on him all day long. He’s agile, and so in control of his body now. Feet and hands are tools on his increasingly effective tool belt. He can roll so well that he stops mid roll to look up and smile. He can also spin like a pinwheel and inch forward.

He sucks his drool before it slides out of his mouth so his shirts are drier now. His thighs are so pudgy I need two hands to make a band around them. He can almost sit perfectly – well it’s always been perfect for me – what I mean is with less sudden falls. But many times, he’ll fall forward on purpose so he can suck on whatever’s in front of him – the floor, your shirt, the table. He also does this in my arms; he’ll reach out and grab the counter, lunging his weight forward as if he’s taking off from a runway. I hold on tight.

Over the weekend, he happily gnawed on the bottom of my ice cold water glass at Tazzina’s. He also really liked the plastic food container I gave him yesterday, clutching it for the longest time and chewing on its bottom. In the bath, he doesn’t care that he can’t swim, he leaps off my lap, flying after his stackable cups. Once he gets one, he wants the other one, and the cycle continues.
We actually visited a friend’s preschool class yesterday and it really felt like it’d be realistic if someday he went to school too. We watched circle time. Cal was intrigued with the other kids, them with him. They introduced themselves and shook his hand. One girl made him laugh repeatedly with her funny faces.

He surprises me everyday and makes me smile at least 10 times more than I did without him. I just keep telling myself to embrace the amazing life force that is Calvin and let go of my need to hang on. I'm just glad I don't have to let go tomorrow.

red, white, blue and water bottles too

2009-07-06T08:19:00.000-07:00

I will return with some lengthy Cal observations this coming Friday. Until then, here's what we were up to over the weekend:

Saturday was packed with patriotic fun – BBQ party, swimming, margaritas, and a glimpse of a firework finale. Lunchtime was spent at a friend’s bright orange house in the heart of east Sacramento. Flags hung from trees and whole streets were blocked off for festive block parties. Calvin wore a red striped shirt with star sleeves and became quite enamored with a half-full water bottle that he wrestled into his palms and put in his mouth, gnawing on its white cap for almost a full 10 minutes. He galvanized lots of ogling attention as the only baby in attendance. Swimming at Ggma’s house followed. It was Calvin’s first rendezvous with icy blue, cool, chlorinated water so he scrunched his face when his thighs were first dunked in. But he got used to the temperature and soon was back to laughing and smiling. His very favorite wet entertainment was Shaun coming up and smiling after hiding underwater – it never failed to get him giggling, which would make the rest of us laugh in a cascading giggle fest. Cal also liked to lead with his hands and head and wiggle his feet and tows as a rudder in the water, but a few unattended licks and gulps of water and I decided to keep him upright. After about a half hour, I dried our boy off and he, Ggma, and I sat in the shade and watched Shaun, Uncle Ry, and friends Morgan and Christine splash the afternoon away. On a bed of towels, Cal practiced his happy baby yoga move (as Morgan pointed out, it's when he's on his back with his hands holding his raised feet) and he also sat on my lap and talked. At this point, Cal was wearing his first pair of boxer briefs and probably feeling extremely comfy without a diaper. After a yummy BBQ dinner that included our garden's first corn cobs, the Hugheses and Ry returned to mom’s and dad’s house for margaritas and an attempt to put Cal to sleep. Cal resisted a little so he got wheeled out on the porch in his magic highchair. We all marvelled at his tiny toes that had curved themselves so sweetly around the chair's stopper. We left just after the sun set and Cal succumbed to sleep on the ride home in our new car. After tucking Cal in, Shaun and I caught the caboose of the beautiful Woodland High fireworks show from the perch of our own backyard. They crested perfectly between our trees in their sparkling glory. We had one warm, wet, wild, crackling, very American, and very wonderful 4th of July.

a new magic chair emerges

2009-07-02T15:58:00.000-07:00

I broke down and bought the Chicco plastic highchair last weekend while Cal and I went shopping with mom and Mill. I had resisted buying such a chair (a replica of the one my mom has) because I wanted the old fashioned wood one that seems easier to clean and good enough to save for future generations. But, alas, the one that I purchased is pure magic because it can recline and has wheels and can get Cal to dreamland in about 5 minutes (we wheel it back and forth in the kitchen then move him to his bedroom when he’s in deep sleep).

Plus, it lets me have my hands when he’s asleep, which is a whole new concept for me. Last night I was walking in circles in the kitchen because I could not figure out what to do with my person with all this time and both thumbs. And Shaun, who previously could not help with the bedtime routine, is now enthusiastically pushing the chair so I can clean and do other wild things.

While I sing the praises of this lovely highchair, I am still reluctant to blindly follow its magic powers into the night because we’ve bound ourselves to baby gear before – the bouncy. So I’m trying to keep to at first rocking Cal gently to sleep and then moving to him to the high chair once drowsy, and later to his bed. That sounds like an elaborate night routine, but it is much abbreviated from the time spent before rocking Cal to sleep then trying to set him down two or three times then sometimes resigning myself to just holding my sweet boy for the rest of the night – while the house continues to look like it has been abandoned. I love holding snuggly bubbas, but I also like to discover my kitchen counter without dish clutter once in awhile.

cal's five.8

2009-06-26T14:13:00.000-07:00

Calboy’s weekly five:

1. Cal takes a bath in the big person tub now, with me. I think he has found out about splashing, because his last couple baths, water flew like fireworks. Also, he first started doing this during his baths: while he’s sitting on my lap he’ll stop all action and look up to find me, smile, and then happily return to his activity. I can just see those sweet smiley eyes that say: “just wanted to check in, ma”; it grabs my heart every time.

2. For father’s day our little fam plus extended fams settled at Discovery Park and enjoyed BBQ grub and salads under trees and in between games of baseball. Calvin was mesmerized by a big bowl of cherries, but decided to gnaw on its metal container instead. Late in the afternoon I found Cal lying on his back impressing his G Aunts with his vocal dexterity, squawking, chirping, grunting, and, of course, smiling. Beth, Lisa, and Vicki sat at Cal’s feet in a horse-shoe half circle, interacting with him and giggling at his antics. The trees had parted a small bit and there was sunlight streaming through on Cal, like a spotlight on a comedian. I almost interrupted the whole event to move the show into full shade, but I let the perfect moment be.

3. So last week, the sleeping situation improved. Then this week it has improved less so. I guess back sliding is a natural part of any change. Anything worthwhile takes time is what I tell myself. And what is worth doing? Not using any version of cry it out and sticking with rocking Cal to sleep (but slowly weaning him off the rocking, you see). Anyway, the synopsis is that I think Cal is getting into the groove of our routine, but is still adapting to his early wakeup time of 6 a.m. Because we’re up with the roosters, there’s this awkward time in the evening where Cal wants to go to sleep (5 or 5:30) and it’s too late for a nap and a tad too early for bed time. So we either let him sleep (and he’ll wake up) or rush through dinner and get him down by 6, 6:30 (and he brings out the crank). It’s a work in progress.

4. Now that I spend so much time watching Calvin sleep (I can’t set him down until he’s in a deep sleep), I have this remarkable urge to make a photo documentary of all his snoozing positions (except that I’m usually holding him and don’t have any hands, or its dark). Like last night, he kept putting his right arm straight out like he was in a fencing competition. Often, he’ll sleep with both hands raised over his head, or he’ll just lay his hand directly over his face. I guess it’s his hands that are the radicals! As he’s falling asleep, many times he’ll clutch the railing of my shirt and attach himself there until I pull his tiny fingers off one by one when he’s fast asleep.

5. Cal can now move forward in his walker (whereas before he would only move backwards)! On Wednesday he showed off his new talents in the kitchen and kept cornering me while I was trying to cook. He’s also sitting with more strength and resolve than ever; I predict a sitting unassisted milestone around the corner ... my love button is growing up.

cal's birth days

2009-06-23T11:41:00.000-07:00

The Hallmark card wins, I’m going to write about my birth. Cindy, our doula, typed her notes on a 4x5 baby blue greeting card, covered with soft glittery white flowers. I’ve been carrying that card in my purse for months knowing very well from its daily greetings that I have to cement my memories before time colors them. But I’ve been putting off the torrent of emotion and feelings – both euphoric and painful – that will surely come out as soon as I open the gates.

I had a long labor. From first contraction to baby it was about 50 hours long. But please remember I lived it by the moment, with friends and family at hand, literally, not even knowing I was up against more than two days of laboring before meeting Cal. No anticipation made so much difference.

I had planned to take leave from work that Friday. Naturally, my desk was left untidy, as though I’d be back the next day, not in more than 60. It wasn’t until that evening when an uneasy stomach left me feeling that labor was pending. “I think I’m going to go into labor tonight,” I told Shaun.

You worry that you won’t know when you’re in labor, but of course you know. I woke up a little after midnight on the wee hours of January 7, a Wednesday. Having the incredible refrain of not waking Shaun up immediately (his last good night’s rest for the next two days), I went out the living room, heart palpitating. Puffy-eyed, I did dishes and perused the net. I got one to two more hours before sunrise. When Shaun and I both awoke, we decided he would go to work because my labor wasn’t active yet – I could still talk between contractions. It was sort of an uneasy excitement that overtook me. Like I had won an award but was required to give a speech that day. I could feel it in my throat.

“Go ahead with your day as usual,” Cindy kept advising. How one does that with an impending new addition to one’s family is beyond me. We tried. I went to the grocery store that morning, was on time for our car seat inspection appointment at 10 a.m. (all the while no one could outwardly tell I was in labor), and ate a hearty veggie burger lunch, which would be my last nourishment for some time.

I remember seeing my “plug” (no specifics needed) and my hands shaking because I knew it was all in motion now, like a wheel rolling down a hill, and that I would meet Cal soon. It was no normal day. Shaun came home at noon and we cleaned and readied ourselves and the house; although, my bags had been packed since week 34. I remember Shaun and I watched a movie on our computer in the office because the TV was out of commission. Cindy was unreachable at some point in the evening, except for emergency, until 9 p.m. During the movie, things got a little uncomfortable. I stopped watching and started bouncing on my ball. Shaun sat with me. With my family hanging around near the hospital and things getting more intense, we decided to make the 40-minute trip to Kaiser South. My brother, driving from Oakland, met us at our house to ride share. I remember seeing him through the fog of contractions and feeling like I was really in labor.

We met Cindy and family there at 10 p.m. I was checked at 10:45 p.m. and my cervix was declared 2 to 3 centimeters dilated, not enough to stay. Ironically, Shannon, the midwife who checked me, would deliver Cal … on her next shift. The waiting room was already filling up with my family. So they kept me for another hour just to make sure. After little action, I was sent home with some drugs and a prescription to “get some sleep,” a laughable proposal in hindsight. The ride home and the remainder of the night were tough. With Shaun resting, I was alone in the living room. My contractions were starring me down. At some point, I stopped fighting them, and things got a little better. But the main trouble was that they kept me from sleeping. Luckily, I knew it would end with my sweet angel Calvin. With Thursday’s daybreak, I regained hope and was confident that we’d better head back in. I woke Shaun up at 4:30 a.m.

We arrived at the hospital at 5:30 a.m. and soon after, Shannon declared me 5 centimeters dilated and 100 percent effaced and I was admitted. I can still feel that sigh of relief. I settled in my room, No. 8. We made it ours right away – lights low, mellow guitar music. As we went about unpacking, my first nurse Edie hooked me up to the heartbeat monitor and told me what to expect. Cal’s heart would get recorded every hour for five minutes. That’s when we watched the peaks and valleys writing themselves on long white strips of paper, representing something that we’d come to understand as a tough little heart – one that would withstand lots of time and obstacles to get outside. That was really the only hospitally part of my stay during the early half of labor. When I wasn’t tied up, I walked or rested or showered. I was also coached and held and hugged and prayed for. I just needed a hand and I could get through anything, including those cantankerous contractions.

But the incredible thing about labor is that most of the time you are not in any pain. It hurts for a bit but in the interim, you are cured. So you can rest. Or, even, if you are me, happily suck on a sour raspberry preggie pop or two. It helped having a sugary distraction.

I don’t remember hours, except that they were marked by the monitoring. At first, I looked forward to the monitoring because it meant rocking chair time (later, the monitoring would hurt because Cal would press against it or kick it! He was very active late in labor, which is not that common). I would not have guessed, but this was my favorite position – closing my eyes, consciously breathing, holding a hand, and rocking the contraction away. I didn’t want to be rubbed down or held (I can empathize with my husband who just wanted to hold me; unfortunately, I needed to sit with myself). I just wanted some spare fingers to hold mine. Throughout the day, I lived my life by position – kneeling, leaning, rocking, standing, and bouncing. Truthfully, I wouldn’t have left the rocking chair but Cindy, thankfully, mandated such an action. Transitioning from each position was the hardest part. Just like Cindy said, the pain intensified the first contraction at a new position. I also remember dancing with Shaun in the middle of the room with all kinds of people around – like our first dance at our wedding, but a little less glamorous. My least favorite of the positions was the crawl position or leaning over the the bed. I didn’t like the gravitational pressure on my belly, which intensified the pain from the contractions. Too bad, because that’s what I needed to do more of to facilitate Cal’s turning.

People came and went. By mid afternoon (I was on my second nurse, Jagdeep), I had welcomed something like 14 cheerleaders. There was laughter, side bets, and lots of love in that room. But thankfully (and miraculously), people were respectfully silent through my contractions. Plus I could escape to the shower and be alone or with Shaun under the soothing, warm stream. And it was dark in there. I remember at least four showers, maybe five.

I was examined at 11 a.m. and was 7 to 8 centimeters dilated. By 4 p.m., I had dilated almost one more centimeter. At 5:35 p.m. I was 9+. It was slow, but hard-earned progress. Yet, I didn’t feel I had entered the “transition” phase (a short high-intensity phase before pushing). And Calvin was still high up. My positive outlook was waning.

But things picked up pace after the midwife broke my waters at around 7:30 p.m. I decided to do so, reluctantly, because I was ready to get to the pushing part before I was too exhausted. After my waters broke (worst part was holding still and lying down for the procedure through a contraction), I reacquainted myself with my stomach’s contents. Throwing up is just a part of it. I remember feeling like I looked worse than I felt. I was concerned my sister and girlfriend would rethink child birth because what they’d seen. They told me they wouldn’t.

I also remember at a few points snapping at Shaun. There weren’t coarse words, but there was a, “You’re eating ... again?!” The smell and thought of food made me uneasy. The food was quickly escorted out.

At about 8:30 p.m., I felt the need to push. Actually, it was an order. The first push was chronicled at 8:35 p.m. I was also feeling sick and so hazy I can’t recollect much of what or who was around anymore. I did ask most people to leave before the pushing, which helped me focus. And I do remember the nurses hurrying around, prepping the area for a whole new person to arrive, rolling in the warmed baby station and emergency accoutrements.

Then the midwife came in and put the lid on the whole project. She said that Calvin was in the posterior position, meaning his face angled toward my front (the opposite is preferred). I guess this sometimes happens but the hope is that the baby rotates during labor, corkscrew fashion (interestingly, our ancestors gave birth to posterior babies, but our increasingly big heads made it almost impossible to do so, that’s when babies started turning). So, needless to say, it is hard to vaginally deliver a baby in this position. But Calvin hadn’t rotated and I was ready to deliver!

I was asked to stop pushing and lay on each side for 30 minutes to see if Cal would turn. He’d probably need to turn for me to deliver naturally. I was given some pain meds (that did not work at all) and after the torturous lying down, turning like a pancake, Cal was deemed unchanged (11:10 p.m.).

In the chaos of the moment, I told Shaun I was done, to roll me into the operating room and get that baby out. But I needed to say it more than I needed to do it. I was just clawing at the parameter of my situation, looking for the possible ways out.

That’s when talk of an epidural entered to the foray. I was actually still coping OK with contractions (although they got tougher after my water broke) but the need to push was so desperately uncomfortable (I basically could not stop from pushing even though Cal was stuck) and I wanted something to numb that sensation so I could collect what little energy crumbs I had for the actual pushing.

The anesthesiologist didn’t seem to think the epidural would help in my case, but we all decided that it was worth a try. Shaun was the only one in the room at this point. He clutched my hand and tried to comfort me. His eyes were hallowed, stressed from the grief of watching a loved one in pain for so long. He was also soldiering on under the strain of little sleep. He needed a beer, bad.

I was scared of a needle entering my spine, but I could hardly feel it when it entered. Again, the hardest part was lying still. The relief from the pushing was almost immediate. The numbing sensation (like Novocain for the body) crept through, relieving me unevenly. And although I could still feel the tightening of my contractions (since the medicine was given so late in labor), my body finally relaxed.

I think that was the trick, because although Cal did not turn, he descended. When Shannon came in to check me before a possible vacuum delivery with the doctor, she found that the situation had improved and she said that I could try to push again. I was excited to be able to give birth unassisted.

My Aunts Vicki and Beth and my mom (my birth angels) filtered back into the room thankfully and were with me as pushing began (again) at 12:30 a.m. (now Friday). We got Cindy back in the room at 1:05 a.m.

I remember that it was quiet again, no more harried hospital procedures. We were going to witness the sacred entrance of Cal into the world. I rested deeply in between pushes because I was bleary-eyed and exhausted, but determined beyond belief. I pushed in the traditional pushing position with my mom holding one leg and Cindy the other.

Pushing lasted a long time and every push was like moving a mountain. It was three pushes (at two I was at my edge) every contraction and contractions weren't letting up. In fact, in the middle of pushing I hit another wall, but I overcame it because I had to, and because the end was near. As pushing wore on, I closed my eyes and imagined Cal in my arms. Those pushes seemed the strongest.

During the pushing phase, Shannon said that she thought she felt Calvin turn, but when he was born, she said that she was mistaken, he was still sunny side up!

Everyone in the room purred at the sight of his first head hairs! A blondey, they said. My mom later told me that Shannon played with Cal’s wispy top hairs while waiting for the next pushes to start (he was crowning for awhile!). At that point, I did not want to see a mirror; I wanted to see him when he was out! When I thought it would never happen, Cal was born. Shannon moved Shaun into position (to catch Calvin) and Shaun held Calvin in his hands at 2:08 a.m.

I tried to reach for Calvin, but Shannon said not to because he was still attached by his cord. Once Shaun cut the cord Cal was given to me, he was so soft. He nursed immediately. Shaun came over to take a look, tears in his eyes. We kissed. I felt pure joy and pure relief from the long hours of work. Immediately, I knew it was all worth it and that I’d do it again.

Calvin was not bloody at all and so utterly beautiful even with his major cone head (that dissipated in a matter of minutes). His coloring was pure pink, and he was glowing and just gorgeous. His blue eyes were wide open and he would not cry, even when the nurses later tried to get him to do so (to test his lungs). My mom said he had my eyes, which made me cry and smile all at once. Others said he looked long and had big feet and hands.

I can’t remember delivering the placenta but I did. I do remember Shannon looking at it, playing with it in her hands, and discussing the wonders of this life-nourishing organ.

After some time, the nurses took Calvin to get weighed and cleaned next to me. Shannon did some stitching (and thankfully, I could not feel a darn thing). My loves who were with me stayed with Cal, touching him and talking to him. I was relieved to move the spotlight and catch my breath. I was deliriously happy and so tired because I’d gone through my second and third winds and was now floating on clouds. Nurse Amy attended to me, ordering a tray of vegetarian food. I ate everything, plus drank at least three juice boxes and ate all the tapioca pudding, which I don’t even think I like. I was ravenous, I hadn’t even realized it.

Champagne was popped and poured. We all giggled like school children and could not believe how angelic and perfect Cal was. I was pretty much unable to walk, but Amy helped me into a wheel chair. I waited there and watched my family touching and kissing our sweet boy.

After about an hour, we collected our stuff and Amy led us to our cozy postpartum quarters, Cal snug in my arms, Shaun at my side. My mom and her sisters, also deliriously happy and tired, slept on chairs in the waiting room.

Cal was born on January 9, 2009. He weighed Seven and a half pounds and was 20.5 inches long. We thought he’d be born two days before, but he had a different plan that gave us the gift of a journey.

I have to say, no one is the same after something like that. Birth is life changing. Shaun says it was traumatizing (always so honest), but he says that with a smile and acknowledgment that he’s thankful he was there. I can’t pin one word to it, but I will say it was the closest I’ve ever come to whatever binds us all together, to the purest ingredients of love.

daddy shaun

2009-06-22T08:22:00.000-07:00

This is what Shaun does:

Blows on Cal’s tummy

Hugs me when I’m holding Cal

Hangs Cal upside with the upmost care

Loves me tenderly and shows Cal every day how to love a lady

Is the literary master and reads Cal books all the time (Beebo!)

Shaves especially close just so he can give Cal scratchless kisses

Knows a handful of books and songs by heart and sings and chants them

Finds new ways to make Cal smile – blankets over his head, then woosh! pulls them off

Talks to Cal like he’s a member of our family, not just some baby

Spends almost all his leisure hours with Cal and I

Brings me anything I need when I’m with Cal

Handles spit up and diapers better than expected

Overflows our cups with love and passion

Thanks me every day for my patience

Happy belated father’s day love! You light up our little world.

cal's five.7

2009-06-22T07:24:00.000-07:00

I missed my deadline completely but here's last week's five:

1. Shaun and I celebrated our second secret anniversary Wednesday while Cal stayed with Nana and Grandpa. When we came to scoop him up, he was fast asleep in the magic high chair. My mom said he looked like a toddler, with his long body and large feet and hands. I still can’t believe he’s grown so much. Someone spiked my milk with miracle grow.

2. Cal and Shaun were social butterflies last weekend, hopping around to graduation parties, while I attended to myself and the house. Saturday I was home to catch my breath from the nanny hiring process rigmarole. I let my mind focus on cleaning and played the music on loud. It helped me get centered for the week ahead. Anyway, when the boys got back, Shaun had stories of Aunt Beth giving Cal sloppy kisses and of Cal ’s jovial mood, even as he was passed between hands. I’m so thankful that Cal is game for so many of our family’s adventures.

3. Yesterday my bus was 25 minutes late and I couldn’t get through to Shaun. My mom helpfully gave me a ride hope from the bus stop, but when we pulled up, Rosario ’s car was gone. My heart sank. Oh, Shaun had arrived home early! I raced into the house and found no one and again I could feel my stomach sting. Oh, they went to get the mail! Still, I couldn’t find them when I peered down the street. Finally, I found the Shaun and Cal in the backyard admiring our tomatoes on the brink of ripening. Although I guessed that they were fine, wherever they were, I could feel color returning to my face. I can’t help but let fear creep in a little when I can't find them; my boys are my world.

4. At our final Davis mommy group event ( Cal was an elder at 5 months, which is the max), Cal watched the babies in awe. He seemed to take particular interest in Kennedy, who’s just a few weeks behind him, and is a sweet little soul who loves her soothie. Well, Kennedy was fussing off and on, and Cal just stared at her. It’s funny, and definitely cute, how he’s kinda nosey now. He’s a curious boy. Then Cal fell asleep in my arms as I swayed back and forth. It took only four minutes, in the hubbub of activity – babies crying, lights on high, and moms chattering. Go figure.

5. Cal went to the gym the first time this week without me (apparently I was MIA the whole week) but with Nana. According to the feedback, he reacted very well to the new situation and even liked the entertainment the other kids provided. He surprises me everyday regarding how easily he adapts to new situations. Although I don't want to introduce him to too much, he really enjoys novelty and new people.

not so easy peasy

2009-06-17T16:50:00.001-07:00

Monday found me home with Cal for the first time in awhile. The last time I spent the day caring for him, just me and him, was during my maternity leave, three months ago. Then, he would weave in and out of sleep and all he wanted were the basics and some smiles. Yes, during the first month of postpartum, I was exhausted, recovering from the birth, facing and overcoming breastfeeding issues, and acclimating to my new role as the guardian and caretaker of an entire person. I remember one night in particular, watching a documentary in our bed on the laptop and thinking I couldn’t physically get through the night ahead, which included a menagerie of wake ups and feedings, because I was so dang sore and tired. But the fog gave way to clear skies as I pushed passed the six-week mark. I felt better physically and the caretaking task was actually getting easier.

But Cal has changed. He has grown, taken on a dazzling awareness, and become better attuned at voicing his needs and harder to trick into any funny business like leaving the room. He prefers to be rocked certain ways at certain times during certain moods and has a roller coaster romance with sleep – flirting with it then waking up, sleeping only if the circumstances permit. He’s picky about it, but so are most people. And his budding personality continues to sparkle through his likes and dislikes and quirky sense of humor – blowing bubbles, laughing fits, successive chirps, and wild-eyed smiles.

Back to Monday. So Monday was fun but it wasn’t easy. Shaun, former Mr. Mom, welcomed my report Monday night as I recounted the rotation of activities and challenge of keeping Cal entertained. I told him that we sat outside on blankets; swayed in the hammock; played on the floor, in his walker, on the couch, and in the bedroom; read books; danced to music; took several naps; and ate somewhere in between, among other things. What it comes down to is that some major wheels are turning behind those keen eyes, yet Cal still needs an adult to guide him through his day. But independence is creeping in here and there. He definitely holds his own with toys now, fancying the colorful crunchy toys and manipulating and chewing on everything from stackable cups to wooden rings.

After all the craziness of the day, I introduced our new nanny to our wonderful, whirling lives and left Cal for a trial period while I took a respite at the gym. It was hard to leave him, but I was thankful for the break. I also couldn’t wait to return.

5 months and growing

2009-06-11T11:44:00.000-07:00

at the 5k last weekend

all tuckered

Cal was five months old yesterday. It has both been an eye blink and an epoche since he was born. Cal has grown on scales both physical and mental that boggle the mind.

Physically, Cal has gone above and beyond. Cal is almost too big for his changing table. I fantasize that he’ll outgrow the diapers when his legs clear the table's edge, but that is a small stretch of imagination. He wears onesies and jumpers for 12- or 18-month olds. We are on the biggest snaps on his Bumgenius diapers. The other day, Cal wore a 2T shirt like it was a regular event. Out of the house, we manage all sorts of comments like, “He’s big for his age, yeah?” “How much did he weigh at birth?” “He’s almost as big as you!”

But especially when he sleeps, right next to me, so serene, he looks like the tiniest, sweetest angel. His hands often cup each other, like little magnets, like the bestest of friends. In these moments I’m reminded that he still has a long way to grow.

Calvin's features seem more like a little boy’s now. He still has that button nose, but his face isn’t so squished. His whole head has grown tremendously along with his brain. I have to say I’m glad it wasn’t that size at birth. But it is beautiful in its globular shape, his hairs are still so soft on top. His eyes are more round than squinty. Meaty cheeks anchor his charmingly squared face. He’s coming into the heyday of babyhood as once handsome dude.

Cal ’s eyes speak to his growing intelligence. When we talk, I feel like there’s some subatomic understanding. Our eyes meet regularly in conversation. His eyes are watering holes, and of a Tahoe-lake blue hue now. Like the real lake, you can tell that they’re deeper than what you could imagine – they dart and delight and take on emotions from serious to playful.

Calvin is curious about a whole room’s happenings, not just what’s in the fore. He’ll zero in on things far and near and twist his head toward action. He likes to grasp and mouth pretty much everything. It’s hard to eat dinner with him on your lap anymore. Once an object touches one hand, the other hand meets it on the way toward his mouth, which opens for their landing. He likes to suck on hands: his, mine, and yours. If grasping objects was a sport, he’d probably medal. Sometimes he’ll cling onto things like the sheet on his crib and he’ll pull it clear off before I can pry the soft cotton fibers away.

Cal cries for other things besides food, comfort, and sleep. He likes you to be comedic, to entertain him. One fine day, I can't quite pinpoint when, songs stopped being background noise and started being tools to soothe and entertain him.

Trees still captivate his attention. I think Cal digs the whole package – movement, sound, color. He smiles at the leaves, like he coos and smiles at faces. I think he knows they’re not toys, that they’re alive. He admires the big and small of life and helps me remember just how beautiful the sun-dappled trees are and that my hands can transform into elegant spiders in a ballet. Cal likes itsy bitsy spider.

One more thing. Cal has found his feet, just like he discovered his hands about two months ago. When we change his diaper, he grabs his feet for us and investigates his toes pulling them toward his drooling cave, helping the whole diapering process along. Shaun laughs at this new development. But it seems logical to me – we’ve been munching on his feet since day one, why wouldn’t he want to too?

Happy belated birthday Mr. Bubbas.

back to work

2009-06-09T11:11:00.000-07:00

I’ve come to think of it as the 3 o’clock ache. Instead of getting hungry and tired in the afternoon at work I now just miss Cal instead. What is he doing? What noises is he making? What is he looking at? How much drool is snaking down his shirt? I want to brush my hand over his fuzzy head. Smell his sweetness. Stare at him so he doesn't seem to grow. I miss him right now.

A lot of the times it feels wrong to be a mom of a baby and have to leave him every gosh darn day (but Wednesday, which is my savior). People told me, but the pull of a mother to her baby is like the steely grip of an ocean undercurrent. It's strength is not apparent until you're in it. That book, Our Babies, Ourselves made me think of how silly our culture is regarding infant care. Most western mothers must work, and yet infants were designed biologically to be close to, and most of the times touching, their mothers. Mothers and babies form a sacred dyad – one that is so entwined that their hearts and breaths mimic each other. If we must be working hard for our money, why not have free or affordable day care in every workplace? Paid and long maternity leave has my vote.

I find myself jealous of the last hunter gatherers in Africa and South America. They do not have much technology. But mothers in those tribes spend almost all their time, at work and in leisure, with their babies. Colic is unheard of and crying bouts last seconds. It's kind of ironic that those babies are the happiest on all of Earth. I wonder what the captains of industry would say about that.

Alas, I better make peace with what is; especially in the dire straights of this economy in this country where we prize independence and possessions, and push our mothers off to work. I should say that there are clearly benefits to freedoms founds here, but unfortunately, I’m running straight into the cons.

Yesterday Shaun got a job. Last night he was pumping his fists and calling for the champagne. I’m happy for his mental well-being. This is what we’ve both been hoping for; it is necessary for us to stay afloat in the long term. And no matter how much I fantasize about living like nomads, I’d like to keep our house. But I will still mourn the day when Cal gets dropped off in another’s arms, so far away from our own. I just have to let the current wash over me and be thankful I get to see my love by 5:25.

cal's five.6

2009-06-05T14:35:00.000-07:00

Cal cutie’s five:

1. “You’ve created a monster,” I told Shaun yesterday. A tongue-blowing, tongue-wiggling, tongue-tinkering monster, that is, but an awful cute one. He has the most acrobatic, lively little tongue, keen for imprinting new tricks. So Shaun has apparently taken to use his “teaching moments” to train Cal new tongue-noise techniques, like the one that makes a farting sound. It’s already starting, I know it, the love of bodily function noises. But it’s rather sweet to watch. Shaun makes the noise. Cal makes the noise. Cal makes the noise. Shaun makes the noise. Each feed off each other’s superb noise-making functions. Cal will even perform a solo act now, wildly pleasing himself with his new abilties. All I can do is watch and laugh. I try to do this tango with Cal too, but I’m just not as good. Personally, I prefer the smiling two-step. Leave the fart sounds to the boys.

2. Shaun held a sleeping Cal last night like he never wanted to let him go. “He never sleeps like this,” he whispered. Meaning as sound as a log. After I few minutes, Shaun set him down next to me and all three Hugheses went to bed.

3. We tested to see if Cal knew his name on Wednesday, because we thought he might think his actual name is Bubbas Hughes. We call him Bubbas often – although we’re trying to curb the habit. It's just too hard to quite cold turkey. Cal was lying on the lounge, I was sitting in front of him and Shaun was sitting on the couch to Cal ’s right. “Calvin” he called over. Cal swiveled his tiny head to face his dad. “He knows his name!” I said. Then Cal looked at me. “Bubbas” Shaun rang out. Cal looked again at Shaun. “Shoot” I said. Then Shaun called Calvin something like “Wednesdays are wonderful.” And of course he looked. So we didn't take into account that he'll turn his head toward any ol' noise. We are not that scientific.

4. I took Cal shopping on Wednesday for brown sugar and library books. The front carrier is a must these days because it takes an extra hand to keep him from grabbing anything within his range. Well, I brought the carrier, but I spied some Cal mustard on it, so I walked into the store basically minus three hands. Well, we finally managed to grab the sugar and get in line. The check out lady helped me set the sugar down. It took me a second to get my debit card out, lots of juggling, and Cal was grabbing at my rubber key chain holder. Finally, we completed the transaction. Phew. The kind fellow behind me piped in: “Only a mother could do that.” I’m just learning on the job, I thought.

5. This is a sad one, but Cal is such a rolly polly these days he rolled (quickly!) clear off his play gym and bonked his head (just a tiny bonk) on the wood floor. I cried a little too. Seriously, I've learned my lesson, all rolling now gets doen a large floor mat.

biology makes it so

2009-06-04T09:17:00.000-07:00

There’s reason biology hardwired us to love our babies more than life itself – sometimes they drive us up-the-wall bonkers. But instead of throwing up our hands and walking clear out the door, we walk away for five minutes and come back and try again. And again. It is knitted in our very souls to do so.

Recently, Shaun and I have come up against this very going bonkers. We’ve had some success with Cal at sleep time, but it’s been mixed with some set backs. Bless his sweet soul; Cal would much prefer sleeping, eating, and playing in our arms much of the live long day. And just like I told Shaun last night in a tired, squeaky whisper: We can’t blame him. Just as biology ordered us to never give up on him, it ordered him to want to stay close to us. No other mammal is more dependent on its mother than a human baby. Our babies start out with the brain capacity of other primates (they are little love monkeys for goodness sake) and endure tremendous and brilliant growth to end their first year where other babies start out. Basically, they’re still in gestation for the first 12 months of life. That’s why they need us. According to biology, Cal is definitely one of the fittest. (For that and more insightful goodness, read Our Babies, Ourselves.)

So we’ve tried to hold him much of the time. And who wouldn’t want to hold the little guy for hours? But sometimes our stomachs growl or the sink overflows and we have to set him down real quick to complete household tasks. And at night, we’d like it, if we could, to set our sleeping bundle of joy down for bed and spend an hour with each other or with whatever demands our attention. That’s been the goal, anyway.

But Calvin is what they call in the sleep world a one-cycle sleeper. So even when we create a whole sensory experience (rocking, singing, sucking), get him to the limb-limp stage of sleep, set him in crib, and then slink away, he awakens wide eyed and bushy tailed 30-45 minutes after that and quickly works himself up, finding that he's not where he fell asleep, or where he'd prefer to be. (It has occured to me that this conflicts with my last entry. To clarify, this is a recent phenomenon that happens sporatically, but seems to be occuring more lately.) And at that point, it takes even more sensory experiences to get him back to sleep. Not only does this throw the breaks on adult time, it means he's not getting all the wonderful sleep cycles that he needs.

There is lots of good news though. First, we have a plan. He and I have a bedtime routine we’ve recently committed to which helps the going to sleep part. I'm trying to wean him slowing off some of his sleep attachments, while creating new ones. And I’ve taken to going on walks with him right before bed – which makes him very sleepy. Also, Shaun and I have been thoroughly blessed with a little guy who wakes only briefly to feed (when he’s in bed with us) then goes right back to sleep. Yes that calls for a hallelujah. Last, I know a lot more about sleep now that I’ve looked into it and I’ll be camping out next to his crib for a few times to try some “cycle blending,” which means rocking him back to sleep before he fully awakens (my source material: No-Cry Nap Solution).

Still, yesterday I felt like I had been running to catch a train all week. Running toward sleep, away from all this restless cat napping. I crashed into my own slumber in an hour-long midday nap. It felt good because I needed it. I only wish Cal could crash into his own sleep when he also needed it. It must be frusterating to flirt with sleep.

I never forget that someday Cal won’t need us to hold him or rock him to sleep. Shaun asks when. I can’t say exactly, but I think we won’t even notice it until that one fateful day when we'll desperately miss it.

Now, onto something else.

I realize I’ve missed a few days with this blog, which totally frustrates me. But I’m trying to allow myself a small bit of slack these days. I mean, for so many mothers before me, the main call during motherhood was to mother. Now mothers pursue careers, garnish their lives with hobbies, bank time with charities, still look chipper in the morning, clean the house, and blog about it all. That perceived pressure is something I alone have to set down and walk away from. There is only so much time in a day. And sometimes that time is best spent lying on a towel looking at trees for 30 minutes, like I do with Cal almost every evening. Also, work has picked up. Which means a little less blogging some weeks, but I'll be back in no time.

This blog has been a place of pride for me. I feel good that despite my complete lack of scrapbooking, I’m scribbling down our memories, sharing our joys, ruminating about speed bumps along the way, and exploring my own thoughts, which helps clear my head.

I think biology has also hardwired me to think about what I'm imparting to the next generation and try my darndest to be a good parent, like all other parents before me.

cal's five.5

2009-05-29T17:03:00.000-07:00

Cal bear

zoo crew

Let’s all jive to Cal’s weekly five:

1. We visited Calvin’s G Aunt Vicki Wednesday at the Folsom Zoo. Although many of the animals had fled to their “behind the scenes” lairs to escape the midday heat, Cal got to see the tiger, several pairs of monkeys, a wolf, a sleeping bear, Arial the Owl, and lots of birdies. But his favorite by far was the ferret in Vicki’s office. Cal went nose to nose with the long, white rodent, which somewhat resembled Cal’s other animal admirer, my sister’s Chihuahua, Valentino. Funny animal glasses pictures capped off our enjoyable zoo safari. (As a shout out to my aunt – the zoo will miss you much; you’ve given your heart, hard work, and love to those animals and the education of them, and they are way better for it).

2. It is sublimely blissful to wake up with a baby in your bed. The sun is shining, the baby is smiling, and opportunity is everywhere. I just bask in the glow of these times.

3. Last night, Cal went to sleep cradled in my arms. This is big big. He usually prefers belly to belly, but because it’s been so hot I found myself encouraging the cradling. If he’s tired, he’ll let me lay him in my arms. It’s a precious view from my perch – soft, downy head hairs, elegant eye lashes touching his cheeks, and his mouth fluttering around binky. He is at peace and so am I.

4. I’m not going to lie, Cal stayed up until 9:30 p.m. Wednesday night. This is quite a bit later than his usual 7:30 p.m. bedtime. Although we had a guest over, I did not depart from the bedtime routine. Still, Cal persistently avoided night-night time throughout my rocking and hammock swinging and singing. After more than two hours of this, I was clearly tired and just laid us both down on the big bed. I stared into his round shiny blue eyes and started laughing out of sheer exhaustion. He laughed right back at me. We laughed in tandem for several minutes. That felt good. He fell asleep 10 minutes later.

5. Having a baby is like simultaneously injecting joy and difficulty into your life. Autonomy is stripped away. But love is infused in it. I am thankful that, in the last weeks, I've reclaimed a small slice of me time – I get to watch my boy sleep in his crib in the evening and then have a hot bath and a good read. He naturally wakes up around 9:30 p.m. for a snack and the whole Hughes clan crawls into bed. As we round the bend to month five, I feel like we're really settling into parenthood. But I won't get too comfortable on my haunches, I know new adventures are on the horizon.

Stay tuned for Cal's birth, I'm almost done writing it! Yes, you can think it: finally!

camping out back

2009-05-26T16:12:00.000-07:00

the very magic, magic wand

roving library

good morning, Nana Anna

tiny trunks, cold creek water

love at first sight

bubbles!

Memorial Day we conquered Cal’s first camping adventure along with family on my aunt’s property. The place is shaded from the sun by majestic oaks and bordered by a creek that’s refreshing to wade in. All the while, civilization is just up the hill but still out of view and mind – allowing us to be enough removed to relax into nature but have the niceties of home in reach (shower, blankets, forgotten items, refrigerator of food). Therefore, it was the perfect camping scenario for us and baby.

Over our three-day, two-night stay, Calboy collected some new experiences including wading up to his small nubby knees in creek water, sleeping in our giant palace tent, waking up to rooster crows and legions of chirping birds, falling asleep to buzzing bugs and frog calls, meeting his first teal-feathered peacock, being a human canvass for natural bug spray (some said he smelled yummy from the lemon grass oil), and getting his second lifetime lick of avocado; of course, he seemed to like it. We gave him a wee bit mashed up on a spoon after his eyes pled involvement in the grownup meal that included nacho cheese (a recurring theme) breakfast burritos.

Cal drank in the baby gazing and doting which was in high supply. He had several laughing fits, and almost no crying ones. He got read to (his new faves are the Boynton books) and danced with. Saturday alone, three separate people rocked him to sleep at different intervals. But upon discovering that the sway of the hammock put Calvin to sleep like the snap of two fingers (the holy grail for baby devices), we used its restful powers for his remaining naps and even took it home on loan until we get our own. The magic hammock provoked ideas of manufacturing a pint-sized version of our own. We had fun brainstorming subsequent marketing schemes.

Cal chirped/screeched so loud Sunday evening it felt like he was calling after someone across the canyon. Then he’d admire his vocal prowess with smiles and more squealing. Saturday evening Cal was mesmerized by a sparkly “wand” with light up qualities and Saturday morning a bubble machine that produced thousands of rainbow orbs, enveloping him in their rise to the sky (yes we even had electricity at our camp site).

We used citronella candles in place of a fire. That, along with the natural oil helped Cal dodge skeeter bites. His cuter-than-a-button Hawaiian flower camping hat did its job protecting that perfect round face from harmful sunbeams.

So we forgot some stuff like mittens for cold hands at night that refuse to stay undercover, a warm hat, a much more extensive diaper stash, more blankets than we think we'll ever need, and the front carrier. But that’s what is so wonderful and relaxing about “test” camping trips – you can always run up the hill to the house you forgot was there, or make a quick trip in town to the store.

cal's five.4

2009-05-22T08:54:00.000-07:00

Thanks for tolerating a little change of pace with the last post. Hey, I got a free book and a good prompt to chew on. Now back to our usual programming. This week's five:

1. Cal’s tongue. It is so utterly reflective of his emotions. I never pay attention to adult tongues because they just aren’t as cool (or a little creepy in the case of kiss), but Cal’s tongue dodges and dances. It’s the equivalent of a cat’s tale – it has a mind of its own. When he smiles BIG, it does a curly ballet.

2. We have “conversations” and I almost feel like I can understand Cal. Yesterday on the way home from work (Shaun and Cal always pick me up from the bus stop) we talked about the day’s happenings – why he was wearing a new outfit (blowout), whether he went outside for a walk (yes), how much he ate (a lot) etc. I got the most in-depth responses – long monologues of sound and expression ranging from furrowed brows (cute, cute, cute) and confused looks to smiles that broke over his face like ocean waves.

3. When I sing “If you’re happy and you know it and then you’re face will surely show it …” I point to his mouth, and he smiles on cue. It’s cute.

4. Cal went to sleep the last two nights without his goodnight wailings. He has a new bedtime: 7:30 p.m., a new routine, and a new plan: sleeping in his bouncy in his crib, moving toward actual cribbing sleeping. Aren't I brilliant?

5. I fielded the question: “Does he always smile like this?” at our Wed. morning parents’ group. Not a bad question to have to deal with. Not to sound like scratched CD, but Cal’s smiles can just do no wrong. His face is an orchestra when he smiles, with each feature doing its own part to convey happiness.

I miss that fuzzy head already, workdays are just too long ...

change for calvin

2009-05-21T11:46:00.000-07:00

Almost every day of my adult life I’ve been hankered to change something about me. My husband says to swap attitudes if I ungraciously unload my workday grief upon him. As a teenager, my parents reminded me to behave and act maturely. My professors in college asked my classes to change study habits and pleaded us to show up. Advertisements everywhere ask me to second guess my looks. Parenting books unload their expert criticisms and advice. And the Internet tells me its stance on myriad topics. I receive daily e-mails showing me how to green my existence. Change a light bulb, change your life.

I’ve responded inch by inch. Sometimes things hit me hard in the stomach and I’ve taken quantifiable steps. Other times I’ve committed to changing and then stumbled and stumbled some more. Or later succeeded. Composting and remembering reusable grocery bags when shopping I’ll count among some of my delayed successes. Images of sea turtles muddling through my muck have helped in these cases.

But thinking about big changes in my life I can see how most have come along without big preparation or fanfare. A night of too much drinking in high school led me to look at and alter my relationship with alcohol. A class on the philosophy of religion goaded me to see creation and the Creator in a new light. A handful of books and Web sites have led me to awareness, to watching my imprint on the planet. I decided my college major on the suggestion of a hairdresser, changing my career trajectory. An article in a magazine prompted me to volunteer for a year as a mentor. A preschool job fermented my decision to have kids young.

And with each of these outside events, there are hundreds more that could have changed my views and changed my life. Yet there has to be something on the inside to spark it.

I also find that random things snag my shirt and stop me in my mindless motion and prompt action. Yesterday, while skimming a magazine, I met Hercules who, while living in a Chinese orphanage, weighed a meager six pounds at nine months. Tears welled in my eyes imagining the lifelong struggles of this beautiful, innocent soul who was born to this world just as eager and full of love as my own son but was sadly not met with doting parents or health care. The organization Love Without Boundaries provided him with necessary surgery and he was later put into loving hands through adoption. Later that day, I signed up to help in ways that I can.

And yet I certainly don’t act for every heart wrenching story I hear or do something for every 10-steps-for-a-better-life or 5-ways-to-save-the-planet guide I read. Laziness, forgetfulness, a feeling of being overwhelmed, or the notion of not having enough resources or time in one day afflict my desire to change.

But one thing that has made me more fertile ground for change is parenthood. My sweet son Cal, now 4 ½ months, has opened my heart in ways unimaginable. Not only is my love for him bottomless, but my love for the world has been magnified. I want for the environment to rebound and I pray for hope to reign so that he and his compatriots can be and live better. That won't happen while I'm sitting on the sidelines, so I've done some more on my end. It’s a simple request that pours from his blue eyes like a river every day: please leave the world better than how you found it, or at least don’t spoil it for me and my friends.

Today I found this quote inspirational: “One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice,” Mary Oliver said.

Sometimes we surprise ourselves and act differently the very next minute. We begin anew. Many more times we mean well and forget. And although we begin each day with our own varied reasons to change and to not, we often run up against our nature: that annoying fine print that reminds us we are, indeed, creatures of habit. However, that does not excuse us from the important work at hand. Change is necessary for our hope and happiness and the survival of our planet. The good news is that change begets change.

So please do not cease the hankering. We need our loved ones to remind us to act well. We need our books to plant that seed. And all those campaigns for change should not abort their efforts to get people to do so just because they operate against the odds; I, like many others, have tinkered with my behavior and intend to do so in the future. Tinkering matters, especially if everyone’s doing it.

The real challenge for me is to not beat up on myself when I've failed to make those changes I really meant to. Can you relate? Because it’s in that moment when we feel weighted and unworthy by our own inaction that some new opportunity for change, no matter how small, comes knocking and we’re too busy to answer. And we wouldn't want to miss it, especially for our kids and for Cal.
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This entry is meant to be a part of the series titled The Inconvenience of Change. During May, the blog Life Without Pants has partnered with Cool People Care to provoke the blogosphere to contemplate change, what it means, and what makes it so difficult in the hopes of prompting conversation and challenging people to stop trying and start doing. If you have a blog, please partake in this experiment and also receive a copy of the New Day Revolution, penned by Sam Davidson, the founder of Cool People Care.

battling bedtime, lessons in patience

2009-05-19T09:05:00.000-07:00

I’m putting way too much thought into how Cal sleeps. True, our culture is obsessed with baby sleep (why?). *How well does he sleep?* – This is the question I field most often, not *How is your son doing?* As I mentioned a month back, Cal sleeps in our bed at night. I love this. But that’s after he’s been moved from the original place of rest, the bouncy chair. Also, he can’t fall asleep in the bed without nursing.

Our sleep situation doesn’t really need fixing. We get at least eight hours of sleep a night and I barely wake up to nurse when I’m called upon the three or so odd times. We all seem well rested.

And yet I’m still fumbling with the notion that Cal needs us or our bag of tricks to find sleep. Not that I really think he should have mastered it at this point, four months into his life on earth. But much to my dismay, three to six months is the typical window for “sleep training,” – a horrible sounding turn of events. Our doctor says, when we’re ready, to put him down in his bed and check on him every so often until he gets quiet. Dr. Cohen, in my latest library book find, advises parents to put babies to bed and come back at 7 a.m. They learn to self soothe after a few nights, he says. I’d be so guilt-ridden after one night that I’d catch his sleep aversion. I think we need another, gentler baby sleep book, which I’m working on.

Not only does Cal prefer his bouncy over all other bed surfaces (and don’t try to trick him, he knows what you’re up to), the run up to bed time gets him peeved. Cal is the sweetest bug until sleep comes knocking. Sometimes we can head this off if we start the whole rocking/soothing dance early enough. Other times, nothing seems to help. That was surely the case Saturday morning. I was at the end of my rope after trying to get him to nap after more than an hour, heaving out giant helpings of rocking, bouncing, cooing, and singing. Eventually, I just stuck him in the carrier and he dozed off that way.

Fortunately, that doesn’t happen often. Most of the time, Cal grumbles for five to ten minutes then slowly lets his lids drop like curtains over his almond eyes. But he still needs a little rocking to help him on his way – preferably bouncing on the exercise ball, his belly facing mine, and then some rocking in the bouncy.

My mom says that he’s just like me when I was a baby – a motion enthusiast. I now very much empathize with my dad who worked the trenches, walking the halls to soothe me. Cal got the same gene.

But where just a month ago I clung to the bouncy for dear life, I now see it as a crutch, especially because Cal has clearly outgrown it, as his feet remind me everyday by dangling over the side or bumping the control panel. So I have secret fears of needing a giant, custom-made bouncy for my big boy. 1-800-BIG-BOUNCY. I’m not alone here. I find solace in forums like this – it appears many babies have trouble descending into sleep alone in cribs or cosleepers. It’s actually a milestone that comes, like all milestones do, at its own pace.

Ggma says to assess my motives. What do I want and why do I want it? I want Cal to go to sleep without a fight. Why? Because it’d be a heck of a lot quieter and less stressful for me in the evening. And it makes me feel like a less-than-groovy mom – I know what Cal wants but I can’t give it to him, which is the hardest part of parenting so far. That’s also the selfish part of it. But I also just want Cal to always be happy. That’s the unrealistic part. Perhaps she’s right. Why do I want him to “sleep like a baby”? For me? For society? Or for him?

Sunday night we were all at his Nana’s and Grandpa’s house celebrating a birthday. Ladies were inside and men were on the patio. Cal had finally fallen to sleep first in my arms and then in his high chair on wheels where he likes to snooze as we roll him across bumpy tiles. Ggma had taken over rolling him and sat down. He woke quickly, feeling the change somehow between standing pushes and sitting down pushes. We all laughed at his sensitivity to movement.

Cal’s so full of life. He l-o-v-e-s sitting and standing and seeing. He dislikes being relegated to a boring bed that does not move. I can't really blame him here. I guess I should embrace his love of all things action and make amends with my silly side that sees sleep as forever just one step ahead of us. Cal always goes to sleep, even though it is an eventually and not a right now.

I do still want to impart the necessary tools of self soothing to my boy so he can be a happy sleeper someday. So back to the drawing table and finding a nighttime routine that’ll be kind to everyone (I'll let you know what works and what does not). Until we get there, I’ve found a little humor and some necessary quiet time for me goes a long way.

cal's five.3

2009-05-15T13:48:00.000-07:00

And this week on the Cal channel …

1. At what age do babies stop making noises when they smile? I love *hearing* Cal smile from across the room, or when I’m in another room. It’s not a grunt or a laugh or a squeal. It is all of those and more. It reverberates in my brain throughout the day.

2. Cal continues to be a one-man chorus in the mornings. Squeals of delight cascade from his bouncy chair as he watches us eat breakfast. We do nothing and it gives him bountiful glee. I admire him so in these moments.

3. Cal + standing = true happiness. When you prop him up on his feet, Cal comes to life. He opens his mouth wide and his curious eyes peer about seeming to say, “I like this view much better.” I love standing him up and then letting him lean forward so I can plant one on his nose, or share some slobbery butterfly kisses.

4. On Wednesday, Cal was grabbing at both the Frogletooth and Fran and pulling them at the same time despite their attachment to the play gym apparatus. Yes, grabbing and pulling. He now handles his soft rattles all on his own. And sometimes he sits, albeit like the leaning tower of Pisa, at the table in his booster chair.

5. Before Cal got his shots part 2 on Wednesday, Cal gave the administering nurse the widest grin, which made my puckering heart ache that much more. Poor little thigh muscles that are as big as my hands.

5.1 Cal has grown almost six inches since the day he was born. Maybe he’s trying to keep pace with the cornstalks out back. Tonight I’m planning a stakeout to watch him grow ... anyone want to join?

mamadada

2009-05-12T15:59:00.000-07:00

mama: lifts your legs like they’re cycling, makes reassurances, is roughly gentle with you, holds you close, has mastered sleepy time, is a natural at nurturing, gladly wears your projectiles, is humbled by your greatness, believes you are sacred, calls you sweet angel, cannot stop kissing your head, watches you sleep, sings often and off-key, aches for you, is the milk machine, likes when you hold her fingers tight, dislikes being away, follows your baby blues, wants to graze on your sweet and long back-head hairs, barely handles when you cry, sleeps curled around you.

dada: lifts you up high with the birds, makes mommy worry, is gently rough with you, pushes you forward, makes you smile wide and often, is a natural at silliness, melts in your eyes, is humbled by your greatness, believes you can already stand, calls you bubbas, snorts on your belly, cannot stop pinching your button nose, sings always, can speak in cry, is the entertainment machine, changes diapers without pause, follows your laugh, wants to munch on your puppy-dog strawberry-red cheeks, barely handles when you spit up, sleeps with you in his arms.

all filled up on mother's day

2009-05-11T09:07:00.000-07:00

Over the weekend I couldn’t help thinking where I was this time last year .... The day before mother’s day I found out I was pregnant – a raspberry cluster of cells was accumulating in my body – and eight months hence my life would never be the same. For the duration of my pregnancy I couldn’t fathom giving birth to a baby … a human … a seriously complex life form. Even during labor I was skeptical. Although I was assured many times that you can’t stay pregnant forever. Good news 50 hours in. Still, I can’t believe what a miracle life is. Forget our minds, our bodies are truly divine.

Back to my original point, mother’s day was pretty cool. Shaun summed it up when I asked him if he had fun. “It was relaxing,” he said. We sprawled out under trees and enjoyed the whole wheatness of the whole earth festival. Cal was passed around as usual, and stared at. Staring at Cal is like indulging in chocolate chip cookies. You can't stop. It's helpful that he seems happiest with all the human entertainment and the large cast of fresh faces that smile at and sing to him. I hope so much socialization will cultivate someone who enjoys the company of people.

One of the truly fascinating things about babies is that they bloom right before you. It's like they grow up not just in days but while you turn your head. Sometime in the last week or two Cal found his thumb. Now he sucks on it like he always knew it was there, thumb couched in his left cheek, fingers dangling outside. For weeks we talked about him finding it and loving it, and he has. Onto the next thing.

On Tuesday he rolled for the first time (see video below, just seconds after that first roll). I was lying next to the boy (thankfully on the froggy play gym), goofing around when I saw swift movement to my left. Craning my neck, I discovered that Cal had done a 180 and was wriggling around, belly down. I flopped him back, like right siding a flailing beetle, to see if this first roll was a fluke. Sure enough, back to front, and, this time, front to back. Oh glory! I yelped for Shaun and we witnessed a few more rolls. He starts the rolls by bending his knees and using his legs for momentum to get to his side and then his stomach.

Cal can also stretch his neck out pretty far while on his belly, propped up on his elbows. He takes on a turtle-like quality when he does this, as Ggma pointed out. It's amazing that his tiny neck can support his adorable noggin with its bright blue eyes and amazing smiles.

For the remaining Tuesday and all day Wednesday we watched Cal roll. My early gift for Mother’s Day was a midweek Calboy vacation. I took both Tuesday and Wednesday off last week to nurse what I thought was a bad cold but turned out to be a wisdom tooth infection. Anyway, I got that sucker knocked out Friday, so I’m back to good form today.

To end this entirely unfocused entry I’d like to say that being a mother, I have a complete new appreciation for them. I mean, I’m so full of gratitude for my own mother (and father) who nourished me through babyhood and beyond. I was dependent on them for everything and they were there for me. Through wakeful nights they rocked and loved and fed me. Thank you mom. Thank you dad.

But mothering comes in lots of forms and I'm going to celebrate my nurturing, mothering self everyday, not just mother’s day, for it’s an act that not only calls on me to be a better more patient version of myself but brings a bounty of the kind of joy I've never known. It's what fills me to the brim.

rolly boy

2009-05-10T10:58:00.000-07:00

simple, small, and spectacular

2009-05-04T16:46:00.000-07:00

Our weekends are made up of simple routines punctuated with the joys of company and the discovery of being a new parent.

Saturday mornings I go to spin. Then it’s off to the farmers’ market with Cal in the carrier, where he falls asleep. Back at the house, we alternate Cal duty and cleaning or completing one of Shaun’s newest projects. Cal tags along on our chores or we come to his turf – lying beside him under dangling animals. We do diapers and change bibs like it’s second nature. We call to each other when Cal is doing something particularly funny or fascinating. There’s also usually some kind of get together or outing to mix things up.

It’s a fairly straightforward existence. But what I like is that Cal really gets to shine against the backdrop of our weekends, or really, our lives. Just like the simple piece of aluminum foil made wonderful by dangling it in the light (which Cal loves), our lives have been illuminated by Calboy.

Parenthood has only magnified my yearning for the simple life. Enjoying food and people are two of my biggest priorities. I probably sound way too old and boring for my 25 years, but marriage and children have changed me. And for the better. In a way, having a baby has brought me back to square one. Back to experiencing what a wonderful adventure it is to be human and be alive on this funny planet, if only for a short time.

My dad was right in saying that being in a baby’s presence gives us a glimpse into where we’ve all come from and where we’ll all return to. It’s pretty special.

By now, our routine feels as comfortable as an old shoe (I couldn't have imagined that 3.5 months ago). I can’t believe Cal's been here a mere 4 months. But eventually, Shaun’s new job, the challenges of parenting, and a bigger family will most likely present new changes and challenges make it harder to live so simply. But I’m hoping I can carry a small piece of these precious times – when weekends were filled with simple stuff, like gawking at cute little Cal – and return to it when life gets crazy.

cal’s five.2

2009-05-01T15:50:00.000-07:00

This week’s picks:

1. Rise and shine. Where were you at 6:25 this morning? Shaun and I were staring at Cal climb out of sleep land. First he moves his head and makes noises, and then he stretches – pulling his arms over his head, squishing his face, straitening his legs, and elevating his tummy. Finally he opens his eyes, which meet our own. Sometimes his lids close once more. But when they’re open for good, Cal’s full of smiles. And every morning, like many times throughout the day, all we can say, because we are dazzled by his Calness, is: “he’s so cute.”

2. Rocking in the glider con Cal. Weeks upon weeks ago, my aunt called my mom to tell her about a free glider. My dad picked it up and brought it to our house. Shaun painted it a dark blue. It was outside for at least a week “airing out.” Then outside again after repainting a part. Finally, it is in our house, padded with pillows and a cushion. It gets lots of use. Cal frequently falls asleep for the night to the sway of the chair, either nestled in my or Shaun’s lap. The soothing motion even brings me to the brink of bedtime.

3. Reading On the Day You Were Born with Cal and thinking about the day he was born, which was the stuff of magic (I'll be posting my birth soon).

4. Cal resting in my lap and me moving his hands around to the beat of the kiddy songs performed at the local opera house. Cal smiled and watched keenly as I attempted to sing along.

5. Errands with Cal on Wednesday; such a mundane activity, but it sticks out in my brain because this was one of my first attempts to travel extensively with just him and I. He did not cry in the car and fell asleep in the carrier. What a relief that we can venture out into the world together.

the singing house

2009-04-30T14:53:00.000-07:00

I think our household has turned into a full-fledged singing house – like Audrey Wood’s The Napping House, but substitute snoozing for belting tunes.

Before baby I did sing freely at home and in the car, but never did I pick up tunes randomly and frequently, whenever they flew into my head. Now I do. And now I even purposefully scan my brain pulling out those long-ago tossed out camp songs that seem to spring from nowhere and everywhere at once. It’s funny, once I remember the first few words, I’m golden … with the chorus.

If you walk into my house during an average day after I’m home from work, you’d probably see me bouncing on my exercise ball with Cal singing parts of Mary Had a Little Lamb, trailing off, then picking up with another favorite, B-I-N-G-O, which was his name-O!

One day recently I noticed that Shaun had printed out the words to Hush Little Baby. I thought this was adorable and hilarious, but I didn’t want to crush his humble efforts at song singing with my sarcasm, so I kept mum. A few days later I noticed him singing the song effortlessly and flawlessly. Whenever I try to sing it, I can never remember what comes after “And if that diamond ring don’t shine, momma’s gonna buy you a …” so I stop to think about it and resume with something that does not rhyme, or make sense, thereby ruining the song. After making fun of him in my head, I now think Shaun had it right all along – learn a few songs, sing them well, and you will look like a professional parent and not a scatterbrain like me. Too bad I haven’t really applied that lesson.

A song that I love to sing (albeit poorly) is Happy Together by the Turtles. Which in practice sounds like “The only one for me is you and you is me … and me and you and you and me” a bunch of times then to show I know the song, I add: “So happy togetheeeeeeer, how is the weatheeeeer!!!” I think of it as our anthem – Cal and I and I and Cal. Our version of that song anyway.

Although singing introduces babies to language and also rhyming and repetition, I think it’s really more medicine for us. I mean, I sing to get me into the playful mindset and to connect with Cal through language. But I also sing because it’s just plain enjoyable and it truly eases my busy bee mind. Plus, I forgot how much fun little kid songs are! And there are so many new ones …

This was highlighted yesterday at a performance at the local opera house. Through a mommy group, Cal and I got to see a one man performer who led us through a bevy of kid songs. I listened closely and even picked up (parts of) a few new songs. One of my new faves is the Beaver Song.

I’m not sure when we turned into a singing house. Besides our pitchy performances, I like the fact that we sing so much. In fact, I’m itching to sing right now.

cal's five.1

2009-04-27T10:37:00.000-07:00

I was supposed to publish this Friday, but you know how Fridays go …

Five notable Cal happenings of the week:

1. My hickey. I was holding Cal as usual (with his head resting on my right shoulder) and he started gently knawing on me. I didn’t realize the force of his sucking, but when he stopped, there it was: the funniest horizontal red mark. I secretly cherished the tiny spot for days, until it faded.

2. This is a regular occurrence now, but I can’t get over how cute it is. Cal purposefully looks for us now. Like yesterday when I was putting away clothes and he was lying on his back on the bed, he moved his little head around, angling it so that he could find me in the vast space known as our room. When we met eyes, he smiled. I always knew he knew me, but now I really can see it in his bright eyes and wide smiles.

3. Yesterday Cal and I were bouncing on the exercise ball and Shaun daddy was sitting in front of us. Shaun started to bob his head to the rhythm of the bounce and Cal began cracking up (the second time I’ve heard him laugh). Then, get this, he contracted a case of the hiccups as he was laughing! So here’s Shaun making funny noises, laughing, and bopping his head around; me cracking up, water pouring out of eyes; and Calboy laughing and hiccupping and drooling at the same time. I’ll never forget it, I hope.

4. Cal had a blowout when we went to the farm-fresh-to-you farm on Saturday to pick strawberries. We were on the farm tour at the time (a fairly long walk), with Cal in his front pack, and I began feeling a wet sensation on my pants, but readily dismissed it. When Shaun advised me to look down, I found myself streaked with Cal’s buttered-popcorn-mustard poo. So I wasn't thrilled, but it wasn’t that bad – mom’s looked at me like “Don’t worry, hun, I’ve been there” and Cal had the dandiest time resting and smiling (and leaf gazing) on our picnic blanket in his diap – of which I got cutest photos, above. And all learned the valuable lesson of packing back ups.

5. Cal’s smiles. They, seriously, never cease to amaze and delight me. But I love it when others also get to bask in their glow. Saturday evening we had family friends over including 8-year-old sweetie Samantha. Despite a little bit of grumpiness and sleepiness, Cal kept flashing his mile-wide gummy grin at Sam, and Sam was so pleased to attract the smiles! It was this delicious, delightful cycle of joy feeding joy.

mommies and babies on earth day

2009-04-23T15:59:00.000-07:00

“He’s such a flirt,” said moderator of the new parents’ group as Cal smiled his big gummy grin and squeaked in her direction. It’s hard to have a serious conversation about sleep habits when the most beautiful baby on Earth is smiling at you – that’s why we would stop every few minutes and acknowledge Cal’s clear eminence in the categories of looks and charms (slightly biased). “Oh, he’s such a charmer,” she kept saying.

Yesterday Shaun, Cal, and I went to a new parents’ group, which ended up being a new mommies’ group. The mommies were nice and Shaun did well in a sea of women (not that it’s really a shock, but it’s nice he can hold his own among women discussing blowouts and breast milk.) I was happy to finally find some mommies who live in our town – yes, they exist!

The clear highlight, though, was gawking at the littlest members of the group and noticing how, even at 6 –10 – 12 weeks of age, each baby is his or her own tiny person. For instance, our neighbor in the circle was a very cute red-headed Scottish baby, there was another girl with the sweetest Mohawk, and a tiny one-week old who slept cuddled in the nook of her mom’s arm the entire time.

Seeing all the other babies also served as a way to realize just how *big* our little guy is (he was the biggest there, and the oldest, but just barely) and what a long way he has come from being a crying-pooping-grunting guy to a happy baby who interacts with the world and holds us all in the palm of his edible and dimpled hand.

Out of some 10 or so odd babies, quite a few slept, but some were active, eating and making noises. Cal was clearly in the latter group. He got lots of attention from the other moms. He was even called a Gerber baby – if Cal had an ego, I’m sure it’d be fat and happy by now. But nope, he's just as sweet and innocent as ever.

All in all, it was just quite lovely to be around people who understand our day-to-day triumphs and challenges (which are indeed miles and ages from our previous lives and the lives most of the population who aren’t caring for newborns). At one point, we had a little regurgitation-of-milk situation, but it was laughed off and taken in stride as another baby had just hit her mom’s shoes with her resurgent lunch.

After we left, I had wanted to do something heroicly earthy for Earth Day, but we ended up slicing and dicing our frontyard bushes with an eclectic saw as Cal watched curiously from a nearby adult lap. OK, not that earth-y, but at least we connected with some fellow moms and babies and tended to our to-do list. Oh, I also managed to hang dry our new cloth diapers, there's something.

funny stuff

2009-04-22T20:24:00.000-07:00

the lineup

2009-04-21T14:28:00.000-07:00

It has come to my attention that I need some sort of way to organize my blog so readers (and, really, me) have an idea of what’s going to be posted. Here’s my weekly agenda, effective tomorrow:

Mondays: Weekend Adventures
Tuesdays: Parenting Reflection
Thursdays: Free Form (including different types of writing like letters and poems)
Fridays: Top Five Cal-isms of the Week
Weekends: Video postings

I hope you enjoy, Cal groupies!

goodnight moon and cal

2009-04-21T14:06:00.000-07:00

One of the greatest pleasures in being a new mom is rocking my son to sleep. Last night particularly Cal was battling sleep like it was the enemy. Now more than ever before, he cries when he’s tired – which is both trying as a parent, but reassuring to know what he’s after.

When he’s tired, Cal knows what he wants but he’s stuck – he doesn’t have the ability anymore to drift in and out of consciousness seamlessly like when he was teeny tiny and he can’t seem to ease into sleep on his own yet. So last night I held Cal’s tiny head under my chin, with his stomach facing mine, and rocked him to sleep in front of the fan. A few times he protested being put down on the bed, so I just snatched him again and kept rocking. It has been unseasonably warm this week, so Cal was clad in just a diaper, and I got to touch his velvety skin and listen to his breathing as it calmed and deepened. Although my own sleep is second to Cal’s, calming the little guy has proven a good way to comfort myself and put my own thoughts away before I lay my head down. There is nothing in the world more splendid than cradling a baby as he drifts to dreamland in your arms.

thank you, bad economy

2009-04-17T11:58:00.000-07:00

Everyday I’m thankful that when I must leave Cal, I leave him with his nana and his daddy who share the duties of child care; they are consistent, they are loving, and I trust him in their hands.

Although I would much prefer to be home, I am content with the situation as it stands. So content, that I secretly pray Shaun won’t find work soon – in six months would be better, I tell myself. That silent hope is one part scary and one part liberating. It is like the strange dichotomous feeling I have about the country's state in the economy's shaky hands. I am both fearful of the recession’s gloom-and-doom hold on our lives and grateful for the opportunity it has given us: to give Cal the stay-at-home parent he deserves and the one he’d otherwise get jipped of if this country hadn’t greedily dug itself into a hole.

So, in a weird twist, I am left wondering how I would cope if Shaun hadn’t got laid off. Believe me, I am just as perplexed at that sentence, but my fingers did type it.

You see, up to a year of unemployment insurance is affording us the sort of paternity leave luxury only seen in European countries. In Sweden, for instance, both parents are allowed 18 months of paid leave, receive an additional monthly allowance, and can use state-subsidized child care. Lucky them.

Wikipedia says the United States is shockingly one of just five countries in the world (Australia, the United States, Liberia, Swaziland, and Papua New Guinea) that does not offer some form of paid parental leave. Where in the blazes are our priorities?

The damper on our bittersweet situation is that Shaun does not have a job waiting for him after his pseudo paternity leave expires. So I’m left wishing he’ll get a job later, rather than tomorrow, but also before his unemployment runs out – a very complicated and far-fetched wish in this economy, where, in California, the unemployment rate is eyeing 11 percent.

As a result of all the layoffs, there's now more mommies like me bringing home the bulk of the bacon.

“Increasing numbers of working class women now – in a downturn where 82 percent of the job losses have been among men – have become their family’s sole wage-earners, it’s true.”

Here Judith Warner goes onto explain that the husbands of those women are actually holding their own at home – up to 20 percent of them now take on the bulk of house work and child care.

The recession is not only bringing dads and moms home, but greening our industries and making people better aware of their expensive and useless habits. Just this morning I read that increasingly people are going to libraries and saving their money, toxic businesses are closing, and college students are bypassing the job market for grad school.

All this makes me think that I’m not alone in liking how the recession has changed my life and that of my precious son's. If nothing else, it has given us something far better than we could have, or would have, chosen for ourselves – at least for right now. Meanwhile, I'll have to keep my hopes and dreams in check and just be happy that today Cal gets to spend the day with his daddy.

cal stacking and beyond

2009-04-16T11:56:00.000-07:00

I’ve actually been working on another post, but it’ll have to wait. Cal slept on a bed last night. And by that I mean not on my chest.

This is a monumental change for me because it means I can sleep on my side now, which I’ve missed (happiness flooded my being when, following Cal’s birth, I could start sleeping on my back again; but now, after three months of nothing else, I’m ready to go back to the simple pleasure of alternating, upon wish, side and back).

At the beginning, Cal started to sleep stacked on top of me because Shaun and I were grasping for anything we could do (within means) to get a quarter night’s rest. This is not a foreign notion to new parents of any stripe. What I didn’t think of that first night was that our solution would become the status quo for the next three months – Cal with his back to my chest (I thought of us as night soldiers at attention), and his arms dropped to both sides like little wings.

This sleeping arrangement takes the family bed notion to the extreme. That’s why I alternated between loving our cuddly night routine (heck, we both slept like logs) and being scared I was somehow putting Cal at risk for SIDS (I took a little solace in the fact that its other name has the word crib in it) or for wanting to sleep that way until he would one day squash me like a bug. Every night I took precautions, bundling us together like a packaged deal – which meant wrapping a blanket snugly over his stomach and under my back so that he couldn’t move. You’d think my chest would make a poor substitute for soft bedding, but Cal didn’t seem to complain.

Many times, I tried moving Cal to his adorable and ingenious little cosleeper we had set up for him at the side of the bed, but after slipping him in fast asleep, he’d awaken almost instantly and start wailing. Needless to say, it was hard for me to even go pee at night.

The Cal stacking practice has been met with mixed reactions. On the rare occasion I’ve shared our routine, people either think its sweet (until, for some reason, they find out Cal sleeps on his back) or think the routine will create a family-bed monster who may never sleep on his own. Bed sharing seems natural to me, as long as it’s safe and OK with everyone involved. I’ve always liked sleeping next to someone or at least in the same room – so probably dido for a small person, who is much more vulnerable than I.

Anyway, after coming to terms with with bed sharing (at least for now), I started thinking of ways to try to get Cal to sleep right next to, and not on top of, me. As it turns out, he is quite alright with this proposition.

After a pilot on a futon on the ground, I decided to deploy the tack on our super large bed last night. I created an impenetrable bed railing with his cosleeper, which attaches to our bed, and cleared the pillows and blankets, and he slept right next to me all night long – probably six inches from my face, just close enough to kiss his head whenever I needed. And deep in my brain I know I won’t steamroll Cal just as I know I won’t somehow roll over the side of the bed, which is good. Plus, I’m a boring and stationary sleeper.

Anyway, it was a breeze to visit the bathroom and nice reprieve to be able to sleep on my side. And our sleep habits are no longer extreme. But I know someday Cal will transition to his own bed. For now, at least, we sleep like neighbors and not glued together like legos. Just give me a few weeks I'll be missing those simple and innocent days of Cal stacking.

i spy leaves

2009-04-13T15:03:00.001-07:00

Easter was a complete whirlwind, but fun. Our Sunday had little to do with religion or Easter (except for a basket of peeps). Still, it felt sacred hanging out among family, flowers, and babe.

Considering weekend and the days leading up to it, we went to five separate events – from West Sac and the Sacto suburbs, all the way to Stockton, down south. Our life is full of family – we are more than blessed.

Plus, Cal went to his first baseball game on Thursday to see the River Cats. Being April, the game got rained out. But we trooped on, and enjoyed 2 ½ innings of unadulterated cuddle time, complete with some eye gazing. “Calvin Michael Hughes welcome to your first baseball game” beamed the billboard as we left.

My head is practically spinning from all of our adventures. Stimulus gets me tired. Dido for Cal, but he handles it with aplomb. At the pinnacle event on Sunday, at my great aunt’s, Cal was so pleasant that folks were commenting on his complete lack of fussiness. I can’t really take ownership for his being a “good baby” (I don’t like that moniker, although I use it too) but I definitely enjoy the ease of taking him out and showing him off. As long as he’s jiggled and loved, he’s game for experiencing new things.

A great memory I have of the weekend is watching Cal lounge wistfully and happily on two giant towels on the grass, gazing at the sparkling tree leaves; they danced in the breeze. Cal is an outdoorsman – I think he can actually commune with nature. Even cooped up in my cubicle, I can still see the leaves aglow in his eyes. When us big people look at leaves we try to categorize and label and make judgments – like whether the leaves are pretty or important or what kind of tree they belong to. But when Cal sees the dance of nature, he is just in awe. He observes. He takes it all in. He moves his arms and legs and wiggles in joy. He is the yin to the leaves’ yang. And then he cries when he’s ready to move on. It’s as simple as that.

I have all kinds of plans for my small naturalist as the weather warms – floating at the lake, hiking trails, camping, visiting the arboretum. The funny thing is that he’d be just as happy exploring the green expanse at the park down the street, or watching the greenery sway in our backyard. He’s pleased as punch as long as we’re outside. And I’m equally as happy watching him, wherever it is we find ourselves.

mobile of memories

2009-04-06T14:41:00.000-07:00

The mind is a crazy place at 12, 2, and 4 a.m. Those are roughly the times I’m now awake since Calvin has come into the world. Early Monday morning I found myself reflecting on the weekend’s events, and started examining each happening like a piece in a beautiful and logical puzzle. The pieces were swirling in my brain like a mobile … Cal’s head peeking over Shaun’s shoulder, his eyes peering at me and the world, happy as a clam on his newfound perch … mowing the lawn for the first time with Cal in the baby carrier, the wind offering the smell of grass clippings, Cal silent and alert, watching the mower zigzag on its course … Cal’s pursed lips, unsure about the temperature of the bath water and the prospect of being wet in his Euro tub, which made us laugh … Cal smiling at the puppet snake with a funny overbite in the car on the way to breakfast … bub nestled in my arms at church, sound asleep as we sang … churchgoers ogling over him “ooooh that’s a peeeerfect baby” … Shaun helping Cal stand and his little grunts to support himself, trying so hard … Cal's round head, which my world now revolves around, and his tiny, lively features, rosy cheeks, and twirling tongue … and, looking down, Cal’s long body in my lap as he eats, his feet dangling over my thighs now and his hands bopping up and down, even as his eyes are closed … I’ll forever have that swirling mobile of memories of the first weekend in April tucked away for safe keeping.

smiley calboy

2009-04-05T18:59:00.000-07:00

massageme

2009-04-02T15:50:00.000-07:00

It’s really not that surprising, but for some reason I think it’s so cool. Cal likes massages. In my mind, massage is an activity that only some lucky adults indulge in, but it makes sense that babies like to be touched in the same way.

OK, so I was slow in starting the nightly massage because massaging requires Cal to lie relatively still, without being rocked or stimulated, following his least favorite activity of disrobing. I was skeptical, and of course, wrong. Cal has taken right to it.

We’re gradually establishing our massage time. Cal lies on the bed, clad in a diaper, while I lather him up with baby oil, and our Mozart CD hums in the background. Right now, we use the time as bridge to bedtime – it’s a part of my grand scheme to create the illusion of routine.

I start with his legs and feet. That’s his favorite. I wring each thigh like a towel. Then I move my hand over his knee to massage his calves. I pull his little piggy toes and stroke the bottoms of his “feetsies.” Sometimes we just stop there. Or sometimes he likes his arms done (but this can trigger his Moro reflex, and his arms pop right out like a karate chop, as Shaun says). If we’re up for more, I make circles on his belly and over his shoulder, or even drape him over my legs to tackle his back (tiny backs are so cute!), or his head. His hair continues to grow almost exclusively in the back, and I twist his long hairs around my fingers as I go along.

One of the great perks of massage is spying Cal’s curves. He’s got lots of little hills and valleys on his long, green bean body. But my favorite thing is his amazingly soft pot belly. His tummy has a sweet roundness. Last night, Shaun remarked on the growth of his girth (once, Cal had a tiny (er, tinier) frame; in his announcements, you can see the silhouette of his ribs). Now, he’s robust, relatively speaking. Anyway, Cal really calms down when we start. It seems like he’s focusing on the sensations, that’s what I like to think anyway. Perhaps we just both know how special this time is so we sit still and soak it in.

long weekend in perspective

2009-03-31T09:17:00.000-07:00

I had three days off. Most people can conquer the world in three days. Here’s what I did: half of the laundry, the dishes (once), thought I was cleaning but really just made stacks around the house, watched Shaun plant the garden, grocery shopped and visited with family. Oh, and I enjoyed some prized adult time with my hubby while Cal was with gma and gpa.

What’s not included in that list is the unquantifiable hours spent playing and cuddling with my boy and countless cycles of feeding, changing, bathing, and rocking to sleep. I think you are allowed to laugh at to do lists and chuckle at the thought of weekend excursions when you have a newborn. When you have a newborn, it's simply self defeating to look at your weekend and think of the time in terms of accomplishment (yes, it’s something to learn, and I’m still on the learning curve).

While it doesn’t seem like it right now, making Frogletooth (the playgym frog) talk with Cal for 45 minutes while he wildly bats his hands in excitement and tosses a few grins our way (which we promptly eat up), is far more than I’ve ever accomplished before I was a parent. At least that’s what I have to keep reminding myself when I get into a late afternoon funk on my third day off with little to nothing checked off that silly list in my head. Now that I think of it, I did manage to work out twice and also shower afterward — and that is an accomplishment with a newborn. I can't imagine how single parents, or other parents with far bigger challenges than I, get by. They deserve gold medals.

giggle account

2009-03-31T09:12:00.000-07:00

News bulletin: Cal laughed for the first time Sunday night. Let me asterisk that by saying I wasn’t exactly present to confirm, but several at the scene reported hearing Cal “giggle” at Mr. Miller playing with a toy monkey. So now I’m on giggle watch … I’ll keep you posted.

shots, round one

2009-03-27T13:27:00.000-07:00

Big needles. Tiny thighs. A throat-throttling cry. I could hardly take it. I tried to be the pillar of hope and love amid the stormy aftermath, but I cracked a bit too, hearing that cry. At the very least, it’s not something that I’d like to relive, and yet, in two months we’ll be going back for another round.

On Wednesday, Cal got poked, prodded, and vaccinated. For all the controversy, the truth is that inflicting pain on a newborn, no matter how valiant the intention, is just plain heart wrenching. On top of it, the vaccines are loaded with strange ingredients (monkey’s blood, remnants of mercury, aluminum) and parents are expected to welcome them without qualm. After a lengthy discussion with the doctor, Cal got the vital ones and we pushed off two, less pertinent vaccines in an effort to minimize the trauma. But I doubt our thoughtful, rational efforts mattered.

The nurse talked me into lying Cal on the patient bed for the procedure, with the option of swooping him up afterward. I was reluctant to give in, but I did. I wish I’d held him the whole time. I do forgive the nurse because she promptly declared Cal one very cute baby – "Oh he's reeaally cute" she said. Yes, we know. And at least I was able to stand by his side, holding his tiny fists.

In addition to the vaccinations, we discovered Cal’s current growth stats. He’s a little over 2.5 months old and now weighs 13 pounds, 8 ounces, and is a littler taller than two feet. Weight-wise he’s in the 75th percentile, height-wise he’s in the 90th. So the news is that he’s growing well and fast, like a weed (the beautiful, noninvasive kind of course). His other vitals checked out – and the doctor pronounced him healthy as a horse even though at home he has been coughing here and there (we can’t tell if it’s a super sensitive gag reflex or miniature cold).

After the twin shots, Cal slept for what remained of the day. I guess that’s a pretty normal reaction – his little body just shut down so the antibodies could control the onslaught of outside invaders. He also fussed a little (you could tell it was pain related) and put up a small fight at bedtime. Baby Tylenol seemed to help some.

By the next day, Cal’s big smile eclipsed the only remaining signs of distress: two round Band-Aids, one dotting each thigh.

in da hood

2009-03-23T08:59:00.000-07:00

A lot of people like to ask how I feel about my new “hood.” Motherhood, that is. It’s one of those simple questions that is pretty much unanswerable. But I’ll attempt it here in under 200 words.

Motherhood is life magnified by a million. It is tremendously joyful watching and taking part in the growth of a new human being. It is also tremendously scary being responsible for this exquisite, budding life.

Holding Cal and making him smile brings a serenity I’ve never experienced, nor one that I can really explain. But hearing him cry makes my insides sting.

I guess the challenge in parenthood is to balance the emotional highs and lows – to try and take my crazy feelings out of the equation and to be the stable, loving, consistent parent Cal needs to thrive, even on his own someday.

My other challenge is to meet any parental guilt with an understanding that I’m doing the very best I can. Here’s a Maya Angelou quote that has given me strength in this respect: “I did what I knew to do, and when I knew better, I did better.”

So, at its essence, motherhood is a new challenge to balance and grow and learn without looking back – all the while enjoying the highs, lows and inbetweens.

cal cam

2009-03-19T15:56:00.001-07:00

CHECK IT OUT! It's our Web cam for me to peek at Cal while at work!!!! (keep refreshing it to see new images)

cal-isms

2009-03-19T11:56:00.000-07:00

On the way to work this morning, I was thinking about all of Cal’s interesting quirks. Some of them can be chalked up to being a baby, but Cal has definitely made them all his own.

One thing Shaun and I have noticed is when he conks out, Cal’s perfectly round head tilts to the right side. Interesting … does this mean he’s right-handed?

Another Cal-ism is the funny noises. I’m sure most small humans make similar sounds, but the rate of Cal’s sighing, chirping, squeaking, and grunting is probably unequaled. He has been making a range of sounds, and entertaining us continuously, since day one.

Cal also has a charming way of exploding into smiles that hang before you, like a picture on a wall. For an instant, the world is perfect.

Another thing of note is how time of day can dictate his moods. He routinely gets out of bed on the right side, I mean this kid is watching and smiling at everything in the morning. You can see new synapses tunneling in his brain in this hyper alert state; I wish I could achieve this Buddha-like blend of happiness and awareness. Babies have so much to teach us!

As a mother, I had no idea how much I would feel like a scientist around my own child. I love observing him and am fascinated by his every quirk and development. Even though babies are mini humans, their innocence and rate of learning makes them so interesting and unique.

I hope you’re so lucky to witness some of these Cal-isms for yourself!

life w cal

2009-03-17T08:20:00.000-07:00

Posts previously written from early March ...

Life is truly influx. Change is everywhere; it’s just more noticeable with a newborn.

One week no smiles and the next week, bam: smiles day and night. Literally, Cal smiles in the dark at night after he eats... I can barely see the corners of his upturned mouth in the firefly-din of the nightlight, yet it’s there no matter. I think Cal first started smiling for real at 6-7 weeks (so for weeks now!). It's so mesmerizing, you can't look away. It’s a huge gaping grin, most often soundless so no dilly dallying: you have to pay attention. I can tonsil watch, it's such a huge gape. Somewhere I read that looking at a smiling baby is like getting high on cocaine, brain-chemistry wise. That’s why I don’t feel so guilty about my addiction … because it’s real.

Here are some other new developments: Cal drools like crazy (and bubbles at the mouth), likes being carried in the front so he can see the world (Cal The Curious), can be found increasingly in his baby bjorn, either HATES or LOVES being changed, is enjoying my touch-and-go efforts at baby massage, is super alert at bath time, and has a swimmingly good time staring at the ever-smiling and fancy checkered frog, turtle, and fish trio dangling over his play mat.

______________________________

My next action item besides putting together a smashing baby book complete with a detailed account of Cal’s birth (which includes organizing and gluing pics and recording important milestones achieved), is videotaping a sequence of Cal smiles and capturing on film the flight of his hands.

Oh my, those hands. They are so beautiful and alive that I doubt I’ll ever capture their soaring magnificence. They are little beings in their own right. They are so active, whirling and twirling; either fully extended or cupped in tightly wound fists. Little birdies with five wings. Like his face, they serve as ambassadors for his feelings. They bounce in jubilation, dart and jerk in frustration, or rest like a stack of pancakes in relaxation. They are plump and dimpled and perfectly edible dunked in maple syrup … but I refrain.

Regarding Cal ’s fists, Shaun says he’s boxing. I think he’s the sensitive type … that he’d never hurt a fly. Maybe he’ll be both at different points in his life or even at the same time. Or perhaps he’s just getting a head start on rock-paper-scissors. Whatever unfolds, they are magic hands. I’d stand in a line for a ticket to see them dance any day of the week.

______________________________

Today is the first day I thought (for a second) that I’d been replaced by Cal ’s new caretaker: daddy Shaun. Shaun had discovered something akin to a precious stone – a reliable method of making Cal smile.

This is how it works: grab a (clean) pacifier, bring pacifier waaay above Cal’s head, start making plane noises while steering the pacifier down, down, down toward Cal’s mouth, watch a huge grin creep in, “crash” the pacifier (gently) in Cal’s mouth, repeat and bask in the simple but unparallel glory of making a baby smile.

OK so I’m not threatened by the male bonding that’s happening. I just wish Cal didn’t stare at me for a whole 20 minutes during dinner with his big blue eyes that say “remind me again, who is this funny lady who comes and goes as she pleases?” So that’s probably not why he’s eyeing me. I’ll just have to come to grips with my own guilt. I’m working on it, I am.

Here’s my positive spin: every evening we basically get to know each other all over again. By 6, he remembers I’m the lady with the milk, by 7, he’s let me into his inner circle once more and by 9, he definitely knows I’m the momma and we cuddle in bed together with heavy lids and hopeful hearts.

_______________________________

I sometimes suspect that milestones are actually counter productive. They can be fun and insightful, but they can also subtract from what is truly important: the now. For instance, I keep catching myself looking forward to the time when Cal will coo in direct reply to conversation or when I can mush up bright avocados and veggies from the garden (hopefully ours will actually yield a crop) and watch Cal chuck the mash across the room, or even when he’ll accomplish full head support. Fortunately, there will be plenty of time to watch those things happen and also to marvel at first words and worry at 16.

But right now he’s still working on neck control. He also smiles like mad, drools happily, sucks on his fist (adorable beyond belief), and gazes curiously at the world from his drop-dead gorgeous blue eyes, round like two of Saturn’s moons.

That’s why when people mourn the growth of their children as in: “Enjoy this time because they grow up too fast.” I have a couple thoughts: 1. they’re still alive, 2. they’re still growing, and 3. pay attention or you’ll keep missing it! Still, I understand the draw of planning for the future and dreaming about the past. I just hope I can think of those three thoughts when I turn around one day and look into the eyes of Cal the man.