I am an admirer

of people who make things.

They show up on my doorstep in cursive letters

and even knock without notice sometimes.

They put aside routine

to satisfy an urge and

I hear it in eagerness downstairs

drumming as my sweet daughter sleeps beside me somehow.

It is a gift of butterflies

fluttering alive in me,

flying about until I decide to open my middle

and make the art that pulses in me.

This person and her sleeping, it is changing. It is slowly becoming something solid and almost predictable until, it's not and that lasts for weeks and then one night shows up that was like those solid nights of six hour sleep stretches and you realize there is progress in this little one's sleep learning and all the while she is growing immensely and perfectly and growing such big white, beautiful teeth and unfurling even more than she already had.

Bea, you are such a bounty of life. I am in awe at your every single little thing.

Oh the sweet days.

It is magical, this watching a human develop. Bea changes constantly and not just in a slew of pictures that show her crawling and then walking or chubby and then svelte but from morning to bed time. "Did you hear her try and say "cracker" so perfectly? All of a sudden she kind of runs and plays. She plays with toys and uses her imagination! I mean, I see her walking the little fisher price people around the kitchen and her baby, she takes her walking too, to see the puddle rock, to see Anna's forget-me-nots. Oh you are a delight, sweet baby girl.

Meow.

For a sweet friend:

Meow.

Boy, I love our neighborhood. I've lived in a few different neighborhoods since moving here eight years ago and loved each one because shoot, it's Portland, city of over grown lawns and vegetables trellised over sidewalks. There are beautiful wooden boxes on stands built to share books with little doors and all. There are planned cherry blossom streets and not so planned calendula yards. I really love it all. Bananas? Pomegranate? Kiwi? People here grow everything, just about. We usually bump into chickens at least twice on any given walk. There was a block in southeast Portland that was the goat block. Portland you are my dream city.

Lately, I've been admiring the spring blossoms. There have been wind chimes, misty mornings, and usually a wagon in tow but this day I'm about to share with you, Bea asked to ride in the backpack so I grabbed the camera realizing I had free hands and a bit of a relaxed eye instead of the now busy eyes ready to catch Bea before she runs for the road or dead heads the perfect yellow mote of daffodils protecting our neighbor's brick house. It is probably so perfectly tempting to her like the millions of rocks in our backyard (sometimes I watch her mouth water).

Azaleas, camellia petals, a turtle, a sick baby, lady crocks, and more. What is your favorite spring flower?

Outside all of the time

Bea wants very little to do with the inside these days. How can we argue with that?

Feeling better

I love the occasional epiphany.

I love it even if it is fleeting to the point of not remembering it because there is a feeling of understanding within you. Of what, you may never know but wow, you were close.

I like the epiphany one gets when drinking coffee. The world is bright, you are caffeinated, and yes, this all makes sense until a few hours pass and you realize that maybe you need more than a day to finish a dress for your girl because you don't really know how to sew.

Finally, I'm really into the epiphany that comes about something related to parenting. I've sat with this one for a while so I know it's not fleeting or a result of my coffee drinking. It's simple, get to know your unique kid, your new dynamic as a family and go with it, in every department. Don't listen too closely to your friend's ways or advice from a book, even if you really love your friend or the book. Sure, take what you want, try some things out, keep pieces in your pocket for later, but don't for heavens sake, beat yourself or your partner up about it while rocking your one year old to sleep at 3 am because she can't get herself back there again. Don't beat yourself up about it when you're at work after a night of letting her cry (you had to try it to see) for hours that seemed like days. It doesn't matter, you will beat yourself up, you will search and search because it's apart of the process, the parenting growing process. It hurts and you cry but the days move on and still you feel you are pushing palms and arms and stomach and thighs and feet all together against a brick wall as night approaches all because you can't get her to sleep more than a couple of hours at a time. Something is wrong here. This months long struggle to get her to sleep for long stretches at a time isn't right.

She's not ready and here is why: there is a shit ton of teeth growing going on in her mouth for months at a time and because that is what we decided, she's not ready. Still the book I love says that she could be sleeping without milk through the night and many of my friends say their kids are or were but she's not and she's our unique baby and responsibility. We take care of her day and night. So, I decided to cut out the pressure I feel. I cut it out with a clean and sharp, shiny knife. We'll wait a few more months (truthfully it seems like forever) before trying to night wean her of the milk, mama's comforting, delicious milk.

Still, it is so hard to not sleep much of most nights. When it gets really hard, I have to somehow reach within and remember that this is a tiny part of it all, of our lives together and of our lives in this big world. There is much, much more like,

her wobbly new walking legs
the adorable pouncing in the grass
first thing kisses loud enough to wake everyone
those little, dirty, sticky, living hands
purposeful movements, wow, she's deciding
how she runs to the window to see daddy ride to work
how did she know where the clouds were
questions without words and sometimes we know
sign language
all of the food eating
her elation for airplanes and helicopters
new words, every single day
the rocks in the backyard
Gina
taking those baby deep breaths

There is much more amazing than struggle here. We are lucky and I know it.

Thanks for reading. I feel better.