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.

Sometimes I don't have words and that is okay.

A blanket

A whole year ago I set out to make Bea a blanket with this vintage flannel floral and that cream colored soft stuff. Sarah, thank you for the gifts of cloth. I am so happy I finally got around to making this thing real for Bea, just in time for a few weeks after her birthday. I ran down to Bolt one day and was ready to grab any ol' batting for the middle but, stop right there, they sell 100% beautiful, lofty, warm, water repellent wool. It's even double layered for extra winter coziness for our winter born. That's what her birthday banner says, by the way. I love that picture Kenny took. 

Wait, okay, one of my favorite things about this blanket was that I learned something new while doing it. Just a few days prior to construction, a customer at the yarn shop came in looking for yarn to tie their quilt together with. "Melissa, what does that mean?" I asked. You see, after you piece your quilt together or sew your front and back pieces together, you have to somehow stop the batting from moving around. You sew yarn or embroidery thread through all three layers. It might be visible in one of the photos above. Instead of researching it online, I turned to my trusty old friend:

There you have it. Thanks for reading, ya'll.   

Camellia

Happy birthday beautiful girl.

I am loving this, this getting to know you. I love this, this watching you do everything for the first time, over and over again. I love sitting back, behind the scenes, still near you almost every day as you remember how to put the cap on the bottle perfectly and recognize that hardy rosemary and freak out by yelping because you can tell we're almost at the park where you swing and slide and bounce on the plastic bunny and scream at the dogs, I mean scream.

Today, on our way to the park, we saw a most beautiful camellia.

In honor of you, they are now my favorite anticipated blossom.

Your daddy named you. Did you know that?

I love you, sweet Bea.