The Whole of the Moon

Oh!! Some people see "it". Like the couple on House Hunters who were living life backwards - surfing in Nicaragua while they were young. Like my beloved waxist who found her niche, and ran with it in a so-naturally-stylish way that you wish you could be like her. My friend who has it all worked out even when he doesn't. Like countless people you meet or run across in some situation or another...

The Waterboys summed it up so beautifully:

I saw the crescent

You saw the whole of the moon

I spoke about wings
you just flew
I wondered, I guessed, and I tried
you just knew

(listen to this song if you never have before - it's #3 on my playlist currently)

Glass half-full, glass half-empty. Hit or miss, they make it seem effortless.
Sometimes it is hard to find the beauty in the world or to retain your faith in humanity. I don't want to be that person who has lost her faith. A conversation came up recently at work: In an animal shelter is is pretty damn easy to find all manner of reasons to lose faith in humanity. And many have...over and over and over again...yet most of us get up and go to work and find the good in humanity and the determination within ourselves to make the world a better place - even if that world is only the world of one abused dog or decrepit cat. Everyone has their way and their contribution. Ultimately, there is so much good to people. We all need reminders of this from time-to-time, don't we? We find them, our heroes. Our role-models. Our mentors. Our reminder or an example of someone who keeps reaching and stretching and striving to see the whole of the moon. The whole of the moon!

I have to say that I feel like I am seeing the whole of the moon lately. I've re-entered a beautiful, cosmic phase where things are just plain working out. So many wonderful things are happening to me and to people around me. And I am so grateful for all of us.



I traded days last week - took off Tuesday and worked on Friday - so that I could get into surgery. This is one thing that is working out. Oh, man did it feel good. I do love surgery and the spark of energy it gave me. That little jolt will carry me until some more substantial changes can take place. Simply fantastic.

The traded days meant that the three solid days I usually get with my girl didn't happen. I missed this concentrated time to connect with her. My time-o-meter is all out-of-whack. If I may say it: it is 100% completely clear to me why people chose to parent as their number one job. There really is something to be said for being able to spend long periods of time with your child. Magic happens out of the most seemingly mundane moments.  I learned last week that this magic can take place in between work too. We had some good fun, my Heart and me.

She can now make marks on the  chalkboard. I know this doesn't seem like much but if you knew the plans in my head to be in a constant state of creation with my girl....it has begun! I am like a kid on Christmas eve!




Look, Auntie Heather and Maria - my first pony!!! I need to find a way to be geographically closer to my horse friends so that my girl can learn early and well to know horses.




Our first ever trip to ToysRUs.Next time, I will get the coffee before I go. She was on fire, that one. you would think we didn't have toys for her at home....








My little musician fell in love with this in the store. She kept going back to it. It wasn't cheap but I rationalized the purchase in the thinking that she can use it for a long time in the future. Again, I go to the primal urge to encourage her to be musical, artistic, expressive - to tap into her own expression. However that blossoms, I am prepared to provide the possible outlets and then support, support, support!!





On Saturday morning we went to Habitot in Berkley. This is only our second time at a "children's museum" - a phrase that was completely foreign to me but a few months ago. I can't see us getting a year membership or anything (nature is too inviting) but these establishments have their place in the world of modern parenting. If nothing else, I came home ripe with ideas of new things to do at home. Ada had fun - two covered-in-paint outfits later, she was fast asleep in the car before we even made it to the Bay Bridge to come home.

The water-play is such a favorite. I realized that I have yards of oil cloth left over from re-covering the chairs - I see it becoming a little apron like the one above for all sorts of fun stuff.

Apparently Ada has an inclination toward ground control for NASA. See the spacesuits in the background?

I love how Tim is hunched over here. He had so much fun showing her stuff, "Ada! Look!! This makes noise and stuff!!"

At the end of the day we all looked like this:




And then there's this proud one. Friday was his last day of IR. We had a carpet picnic and just said "hello" to each other. So nice given the sparse time we have had over the past month. Oh, and his wedding ring was found so we are both proudly adorned once again.






And so I have a custard in the fridge  waiting to become ice cream. I have half-finished blankets waiting to warm babies and half-sewn birdies waiting to be clutched by teeny-tiny hands. I have a final gift from my Mom in the kitchen waiting to do it's work in our lives. Work is good. My daughter is healthy and breathing and beautiful. I enjoy a loving marriage. I have been blessed enough to know some of the most amazing people on this planet. I get to enjoy a surprise trip. Oh, life is good.  I am a blessed girl.

Wack-a-doodle-doo

The past 48 hours have been just like I like 'em: sweet and full of wholesome goodness. Tonight I zipped Ada up in her sleepsack to get her to bed and I caught a glance of her - just a flash - as a little girl. The metamorphosis is jaw-dropping: 2 years ago I wasn't even pregnant, then she was a newborn, then an infant, now a toddler, and soon she'll be a little girl. I'm stopping there because I'm just not prepared yet to go beyond.

In the meantime, I'm savoring each moment, including the ones like Friday night. On this particular night my daughter was acting like a crazed lunatic! She was clingy and wiggly - not like her. We danced to the Budos Band and she belly-laughed. Hard to be frustrated with that.
Tim was so late at work - maybe the latest night of his residency that I recall. Rough day - flushed his pager down the toilet and lost his wedding ring. Bummer. He was telling me the story as he was walking home at 10:00 at night. As he was leading up to it with phrases like "double gloved" I was sure he was going to tell me much worse news. In fact, that's the way to break it! I wasn't mad at all, I was grateful that it wasn't a needle stick. That would be bad for obvious reasons but it would also really slow down a little brother or sister for Ada. 

While Tim was looking through biohazard waste for the complete titanium circle that represents our vows to each other, I was sewing. Lots of babies = lots of handmade blankets. I have gotten pretty damn good at this, if I do say so myself.



Tim decided that it would be funny to see if we could still swaddle Ada. Tim was a master swaddler in his day and that baby responded like a fish on a hook - a Daddy's girl was born right then and there. Well, it's not quite like the day we brought her home but it was hysterical nonetheless.






Earlier that day, Ada and I went over to visit Erika and her family. I love Erika - she's smart, hysterical, and just a good human being all around. Besides all of this, she gives me a new perspective - she says things like, "Oh, yeah. It's like mayhem around here all the time. Total chaos. Did I tell you about the time Ike flushed a truck down the toilet?" She's a good Mom - the kind of Mom I hope to be one day. Bonus - she lives literally around the corner (well, three corners if you want to get all technical about it) but you have to go down, and then up, this brutal hill. Who needs Buns of Steel when you have the nauseating pitch of Duboce...



a couple pics. Sweet Frankie, only 18 days older than Ada, was stark naked most of the visit. While I do have cute pictures I don't want to get arrested. Ike was having a good time being a big brother to the babies...so sweet. I can't wait to see Ada as a big sister. I just can't see that love doing anything but multiplying exponentially.




Saturday morning we did what we often do - a long, lazy, late breakfast. Ada and I walked down to the corner store to get all the stuff for breakfast. This is one thing I love about the city. We have a corner store. And the people who own that store? They know us. We even have an account there. Ada and I chatted with one of the owners - he has a 6 week old baby girl at home. He let Ada take the Twix bar that she insisted on carrying around the store with her. This mama had her sights on something far more intriguing. Who is the genius who came up with this?




Of course, I didn't feed this to my child. In fact, I wouldn't have shared with anyone if I didn't have to. Instead, I made her eat cantaloupe for breakfast:




While that sweet one slept with a belly full of melon, I was off to the fabric store. What a treat to go by myself. Last time we were there she didn't know what to get into first. I spent the whole trip chasing after her and putting things back on the shelves...I love her curiosity but it wipes me out. A loner visit was a good change of pace. It also gave me time to look at the $1.00 aisle, which, incidentally, was actually the $0.69 aisle today. When I brought these home Tim looked at me and said, "What in the hell are those for?" So I said, "I'm planning ahead. Next year she'll be 2 years old and she might want to color these." It made perfect sense to me. Her and her little friends can color some funky little Halloween things. Fun, right?




There was also an awesome package of clothes from Grandma Judy and Great-Grandma Alice. It's so fun to watch Ada go through these things. It's even more fun to see the combinations the nanny comes up with






We walked down to Cole Valley and then down into the Haight. It's fun to do this - we live in a place where people come to visit for a vacation. Crazy. And I sometimes forget what a cool place we live in. It really is cool too. In fact, I remember whenever Tim and I first moved here. We sat one night at Magnolia just beaming at each other across the table and saying, "We live in San Francisco. We're locals now." So we went back to Magnolia today. As with most things, it wasn't quite like old times - in fact that last time we were in there I was super pregnant. Now, Daddy helped our former-fetus to drink from a glass and Mommy taught her that the arugala that comes with the Devils on Horseback (figs stuffed with chevre and wrapped in bacon) is really good.






On the way home Ada insisted on walking home on her own. It's an 18% grade up this road. She's a beast.  I love how tall Tim is compared to her.



She was sure to crawl up the really steep parts (of a driveway):



Then she got tired and hitched a ride:




If you are so inclined, please say a little prayer that this week is better than last. I'll do the same.

How to Create a New Reality

"for a long time it seemed to me that life was about to begin - real life. but there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid. at last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life. this perspective has helped me to see there is no way to happiness. happiness is the way. so treasure every moment you have and remember that time waits for no one." - souza


 This post has been re-written three times now.

It started off as a vent after a couple of particularly grueling days at work. She was asleep by the time I got home on Wednesday night at nearly 9:00. I was so sad and frustrated that I sat down and actually counted the days ....Until what?

Well, you'd think I'd learn given that I've been here before. Apparently, I'm a slow study when it comes to life because here it is again. Quite frankly, I'm frustrated with myself. Even with all of the stuff that simply is gross, unfair, or ridiculously irritating, at the end of the day it really is a beautiful time of my life and I want to remember the good things for forever.

In reality, most of the goodness in life doesn't stem from some grand event. These moments are priceless to be sure - your wedding, giving birth, graduation, a great vacation - but few and far between. That is part of why I write here - the therapeutic part of it is taking all these tiny moments whose accumulation amounts to so much more and turning them into the memories I want to keep. I am emphasizing certain aspects in the writing my own story. It forces me to look for these little moments, the things to be thankful for and in doing so it changes me - slowly, but changes me for sure. In turn, my future reality becomes richer.


So, without further adieu, the stories I want to relive in my mind over and over...

Last night Ada and I took a bath together. I love doing this: soaping up her little toes, washing her curly fine baby hair, being so close with her as she is so happy and playing. I grabbed a handful of bubbles and blew into them making a little crater. I did it again. Then she did it - this little high-pitched, elongated "ffff". She was so proud! We stayed in the bath until our fingers were white and pruney - when Daddy came home Ada showed him her new trick and giggled. Really, so cute. 

Fingerpainting:






Playing in a box from my new favorite website:




The newest sport: climbing to bother a cat. Heaven help us now.




On Labor Day it was warm and sunny here so we scurried outside to soak it up. I even made sun tea and planted some flowers out front. Tim decided to build me a raised planter bed. So fun to see him get all mathematical and dirty! Since lettuce is about the only thing that is doing well in my foggy, windy yard that's about all we're planning to grow back there for now. Seriously, check out my tiny snow pea and my tiny green bean.

The face of love & happiness:




Interactions with the newest creepy baby:

It's been one year...

since the phone rang in my hotel room in Naples, FL at 5:30 am on a Friday morning. My Aunt Barb was on the other end.

"Honey, your Mom died."
"OK. OK. OK. I'm coming right now. I'm coming."

I threw on something, got in the rental car .... and pulled into the parking lot of the hospice. I don't know how I got there. Maybe God's hand was on the steering wheel for me. Her room was quiet. She was on the bed with her hands folded on her belly, her eyes were closed. I stood a couple of feet away from her bed and said, "Bye, Mom." I didn't cry. I just looked on, curious. I felt like I was looking at a picture of a holocaust victim - she was thin and hollow in that way a person can only be if the  essence of their body had died long before their formal death. I touched her. She was was cool and firm. I left the room and went to the porch with my aunt. We made phone calls - to whom, I don't recall.

My Aunt Barb and I walked down the hall, coffee in hand, to sit on the porch and watch the sun rise. It was peaceful. The sun rose in a flurry of bright orange and pink....a flock of birds took off from the pussy willows at the edge of the pond.
"She would have loved this," we mused. You wouldn't know that 6 hours earlier we were shaking and wailing at my Mom's bedside with my mother-in-law Judy.



Judy, one of the kindest, most generous and forgiving souls I know, picked me up at the Tampa airport early Thursday morning and we drove through the pouring rain of a stormy Florida afternoon to a hospital in Naples. I had decided only the night before to go to Florida. We had just interviewed our now-nanny and Tim and I had a date planned for that night. Instead, Tim booked me a red-eye flight while I packed. I nursed 11-week-old Ada, straddled over her car seat, on the way to the airport.
Once I got off the plane and got in Judy's car we didn't stop driving until we got to Naples. When we got to the hospital and found my Mom's room I walked in. I saw her - what it must have looked like for every person who was there with her over the previous five months. Every person who wasn't me. She looked tiny in the bed, wide-eyed. What happened then was one of the most beautiful and soul-moving experiences of my life: I ran to her like I did when I was just a tiny kid. All of the tension that had tormented our relationship for the previous 10 years vanished.


Everyone else left the room. I played a song for her, "You and Me Against the World" by Helen Reddy. It was our song. I can't even put it on my own playlist now because I cry at the sound of the first note. I told her that I didn't forget and that this song played when I gave birth. She said, "Did it really?" and she gave a little chuckle. I told her she was a good Mom and she said, "Sometimes I wondered." I died a little bit inside. I told her I loved her. I wanted to tell her that I wished she would live long enough for me to understand her position as my mother. That I wished she would live long enough for us to let time fix us. But the nurse came in to move her to hospice. I went to the bathroom to pump for the first opportunity in 18 hours. With my pump precariously perched on the edge of the sink, woosh whish whoosh whish whoosh whish, I stood and cried.

The ride to hospice was wet and bumpy. She was blessedly, heavily drugged but I held her hand anyways. Judy and I got her settled in and then went to shower and get food. We came back in the late afternoon/early evening. Everyone else left and it was just my Mom, me, Judy, and my Aunt Barb as the sun set. My Mom was uncomfortable - I kept asking the nurse for more pain meds, "Please, give her as much as you legally can." In and out of consciousness, moaning, grimacing...the last thing she said was, "I'm so scared." Shit.

Judy used to work for hospice so she'd been here before. She started to do some guided imagery,  "You are walking on a beach. Do you feel the sand between your toes? And the warm sun on your skin. Monica is with you and so is Ada. They are waving at you and you are walking ahead now...." Her breathing softened, she let the tension fall from her face. She was peaceful. This talking went on for easily two or three hours and while Judy guided my Mom to a more peaceful state I sat there at the head of my Mom's bed on her left side and I cried. That was the hardest and longest I think I've ever cried in my life. Her illness had badly frayed the fabric of my heart but these last hours ripped a hole so big that no patch could ever fix it.  It was so painful.

As midnight approached Judy was tired and it was time for us to go. I had heard that people will wait to die until their loved ones had left the room. I didn't want her waiting for me. Somewhere in there, I felt some kind of resignation - I wouldn't exactly call it peace. Aunt Barb went outside to smoke a cigarette and Judy went to the bathroom. I stood at my Mom's bed, my voice suddenly steady and clear, and told her, "It's OK to go now, Mom. You did a really good job of teaching me to take care of myself. And I have good people around me. I'll be OK. But you'll always be with me because I am a part of you and Ada is too. That's just the way it is. I love you, Mom."

She died 4 and a half hours later.


The birth of my daughter happened only 11 weeks to the day before the death of my mother. And the stages of these two processes were so similar - birth and death. One ended so beautifully - my daughter: my very own Heart personified and real. The other, while touched with moments that were frighteningly spiritual, ended so tragically. I read books about near-death experiences because I want to believe that after she said, "I'm so scared." that my Grandpa was there. Where was this comforting presence of Jesus that I read so much about? I am still pissed that God would let her feel fearful as she was dying.

I also read about people feeling the presence of their loved one or even being visited by them. The first night after she died, I was afraid to go to sleep. 3 glasses of wine and I still couldn't stop my nerves from buzzing. I was afraid she would come to me and I was afraid that she wouldn't. I searched and searched for some message from her - something, anything - to tell me one more time that she loved me and forgave me for the times when I was jerk. But there was nothing. There is nothing.

One year has passed. I have found some resolve, yes, and there are still things that I still just feel sick about. I think this is going to take a very long time. The walk to and from the beach yesterday gave me lots of time to think (there has been so much of that lately). It was a tough period (the lost weeks, my Mom, adjusting to life as a Mom myself) and once the dust settled I needed a little time to readjust my focus, get back on my feet, and dust myself off. I can feel my spirit starting to open up again - just waiting to welcome in all the good that is surely to come. And it is coming. Oh, there is so much good to come.

Baby Nancy - "My firstborn," my Marge called her.

 A little toddler. I see Ada's face in her face.

My Mom's high school portrait. Wasn't she beautiful?

Her and me against the world.

Goofball.

Judy and my Mom clowning around a couple days before our wedding.

My baby shower in FL. I was 36 weeks pregnant. Less than 1 week after this picture was taken, my Mom was diagnosed with lymphoma.

Today was obscenely good.

First of all, get a load of the socks.




Killing me.
Really, just kills me.
When did she get so damn funny?

I have to wonder if one day God is going to part the clouds with His very own hand and come on down to earth to tell me in a very deep voice, "Monica, there's been a mistake. I reviewed your life plan and I'm sorry to tell you that I never intended for you to be this happy." I'm half-kidding. In my deepest, truest soul I know that I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be and so is Tim and so is Ada. I was meant to be her Mom. Cosmic and nearly unfathomable.


She carried on with being cute. She's angling to get near Puppet. She loves this cat. I mean, I don't know anyone who doesn't love this cat cause he's 100% tabby fur-coated awesomeness, but still. Look, she just wanted to lay down with him.







Today? Oh, it got soooooo good. I looked at the to-do list and I said, "Buzz off. I know for a fact that you'll be there tomorrow." As soon as Ada woke up from her morning nap we folded the quilt and stuffed it under the stroller along with an avocado and some spoons from the kitchen and headed out for a walk through Golden Gate Park all the way down to the mighty and moody Pacific ocean. I had a hunch that the fear of sand, which, along with bubbles, comprise her "mortal enemies" according to Uncle Colin, might be be gone.
Oh, my girl. My very own Heart. God help me, I thought I might explode today - if you doubt that you have ever witnessed happiness then please let this set you right.








At one point I walked her down to the water and the whole way she squealed, smiled, giggled, kicked her feet, and flapped her hands. I've never seen her so excited about anything. Every time the tide came in she went, "WOOOOOO!!!"

When I put her tiny toes in the water?  
"AAAAHHHAAHH!!"
I swear. Nothing more hysterical has ever happened to her in her whole life. Geez. My girl is in love with the ocean. Her Daddy will be so proud! I can can only imagine the plotting to get her underwater with double nitrox tanks ASAP. Hey, the man loves what he loves.




A thing I love (other than my Heart and my man)? My park. I do love Golden Gate Park. Every path, every nook that doesn't already house a homeless person, every gentle grade is special to me.It's in bloom from about April 'til October and it is, in a word, spectacular.

Enjoying some simple things

Today I am doing only this: enjoying some simple things.
Things like:

peaches waiting in a genuine jadeite bowl to join blackberries to make a pie:




and my little helper:




one kitty enjoying a darkened breezeway while another naps in a sun beam:




the mornings with my Heart:







my husband saying, "I'm on my way home. I can't wait to see you."

our open windows

a long weekend

progress