Ten on 10

Check out Rebekah's site. The objective of Ten on 10 is to take one picture every hour for ten consecutive hours on the tenth of the month. This is the third official time I've participated and I find myself pushed to look for  and document the beauty in every day life. Her blog is lovely beyond Ten on 10 so do take a look. 

Nine

Spinarette on the front porch. Ada likes to climb up on the couch to look at it spinning. Sun? Check. Wind? Not according to the spinarette. It's shaping up to a beautiful day. 

Ten

Judy brought foam puzzles when she visited. Ada is smitten with them and plays with them non-stop. 

Eleven

This barrette lasted all of 10 minutes - nearly a record for longevity. She won't stand for anything in her baby fine, sweet hair. 

Noon

Nap time. I love these feet. I had no idea that something as simple as my child's feet held the power to drive me to madness for my love of them. 

One

She obsessively peels the paper from all of her crayons and I have the good fortune to find the shavings all over the house. Ada is just stirring from her nap. 

Two

We met two women I worked with at the park today. This playground is at the edge of the Presidio and overlooks the Golden Gate bridge, north bay, and Mt. Tam. It was a sunny day in SF - barely a cloud to be seen and no fog - rare for this time of year on this side of the city. 

Three

Still at the park. Maybe this is why Erika, Christy and I would all get out of work so late when we worked together. We can't stop talking...and I love it! Ada is sifting through Erika's bag looking for a snack. Everyone else's goods are way better than whatever she has. 

Four

These were mine when I was a baby. I want to bronze Ada's first baby shoes too. These are dusty - I want to hire someone to come every couple weeks because I can't keep up anymore. I've been vetoed. 

Five

Yes, we are back to the foam puzzles. 

Six

Sadly, Annalea closed her Etsy shoppe a few weeks back. When she announced it, I was sad but went to have a look. This gem was in the shoppe early on but was bought up quick. I saw one there and knew it was destined to be mine. She has a great explanation of where "Hold Fast" comes from and while I do like the biblical reference I find that seeing these two little words are a great reminder and cheerleader to me. 

Seattle Was Awesome

Tim and I got  home from Seattle yesterday. What a beautiful city. I was there for less than 48 hours and I made the absolute most of every single minute. I leisurely shopped, struck up conversations, drank wine with lunch, ran and then ran some more, took long baths, slept in, read a book, and admired the view from our hotel room.



I did wander down to Pike Place Market where I didn't watch them throw fish. I was too starry-eyed over the flowers. Rows and rows of them wrapped in paper and bowing their heavy heads ever so slightly.

OK, I did stop to stare at the monster shrimp (center). Only for a second though because then I spotted the poppies (lower right). Holy cow!

There were street performers playing the flute and the cello.



And there was humor to be found everywhere.




Tim had benefited all week from the benevolence of radiologists who are gainfully employed. I kept hearing about these amazing meals he was having and I was hoping I would have a chance at it too. I was not let down. We met for drinks at the hotel bar until the dinner club, which included Courtnay, was gathered.

We went to the Pink Door. We descended the stairs into the concrete basement to hear Squirrel Nut Zippers playing while the band set up. I knew it was going to be good. Starting with champagne in the bar while we waited for our table. Dinner included candlelight, crystal chandeliers, handlebar mustaches, beautiful wine, oysters, prosciutto, and laughter - so much laughter. We moved into the lounge again for dessert. We lingered for nearly an hour and a half over hazlenut ice cream with hot chocolate, limoncello, coffee, and a really fun band. If you ever get to see Bakelite78, do check out this macabre mix of jazz and cabaret.





We haven't had a night this relaxed since Ada was born. We've been out and we've had fun it's just that this night there was a freedom we haven't really felt in a while. See, usually, we know that we will be up with her at the crack of the dawn no matter how late we were out or how much we indulged. In the back of my mind is always the tally of how much we owe the sitter and how much the cab ride home will be. There was none of it Tuesday night. Our girl was safe and happy without us and we really didn't have a thing to worry about.

That's not to say that I didn't miss her. Oh, I did. In fact, I find that when I am apart from her for any reason I turn into a crazy baby-stalker lady. I notice them everywhere I go. If I hear a baby cry my body responds physically  - similar to after giving birth when your milk would  let down if you heard any baby cry, it doesn't even have to be your own! I strike up conversations with total strangers about their babies or I gaze at them from across the restaurant with a far-away look in my eyes and my lips curled into a smile as I remember my own baby.

This baby slept just like this for over an hour. So sweet.
I drafted a short letter in my head after I took this incognito picture:
Dear rich, buttery french food,Please don't clog my arteries leading me to an early death. Thank you for your consideration. Sincerely,Monica 

While terminal 2 at SFO makes me think I'll never fly anyone but Virgin, the Sea-Tac airport made me reconsider flying again altogether. Tim and I both opted out of the security x-ray because hell, no I don't trust them to callibrate the machines correctly or give me honest information about exposure. Like I need more radiation in my life! My eggs are on the brink of extinction as it is. So Tim and I both opted for the pat down, which wasn't so bad. It was the passive-aggressive, annoyed behavior of the security staff as they made us wait to be patted down that was a real bummer.



We came home to our girl, hugged and kissed her, and watched her play with her friend Sophia. Life is good.

The Wild Ride

If life is comprised of meandering swivels, erratic zig-zags, and wide oscillations then we're still accelerating out of a long, sharp bend in the road. It's hardly the first time and, to be truthful, I'm getting pretty good at holding on even if it's not always been the most graceful process. In fact, I do better than just "hold on" most of the time. If there is a big lesson to be learned over the past few years then it is this: Recognize which life circumstances can be changed and then learn how to think differently about the ones that you can't change.


The end of Tim's training has been dangling in front of us like a giant, golden carrot. This past weekend we got a little closer when he graduated residency. I am so proud of him. He is brilliant, has an amazing work ethic, and is a great team player. He's also a great Dad to our daughter and a loving husband.






One year of fellowship remains and then we are free agents. The vastness of possibility returns and with goal attained, we can let our roots sink deeply wherever we land. There is nothing I have ever wanted more than stability in my family life. We have waited so long and worked towards this so diligently...I'm sure you've had this feeling. It's like the month before your wedding or the week after thanksgiving: nothing is actively happening yet, but the big day is close enough to start getting really excited.

Tim's Mom came for his graduation and to watch Ada while we are in Seattle for a couple of days. I am once again transported to Grandparent land and it is just as lovely as ever. I can see why people look forward to this phase of their lives. They really do have the chance to do nothing but enjoy their grandchildren in this amazing, magical stage. What parent doesn't crave more cuddling and story time for themselves?




Judy likes to point out things Ada did or said during the days - things that I've seen her do or say before but absorbed and processed differently. It's fun to see my child through the eyes of another person. Maybe it's because I see her every day or maybe it's because I don't have a lot of experience with kids to compare it too but I have a tendency to let her accomplishments be celebrated momentarily and then absorbed quickly into our daily routine. Maybe I should make a bigger deal of things for longer. For example, it's only over the past week or two that Ada is talking up a storm and using full sentences too. She's saying things like, "there's the mommy," and pointing out every time there is an airplane overhead. Her sweetness and cleverness has extended from her by her words now. I love the sound of her voice too - angels singing.

There has been a healthy dose of getting spoiled to death by her grandmother too. The iPad is ruinous. Ada is totally addicted:




While we were getting ready for Tim's graduation she played in Judy's makeup:

A little lipstick and a kiss. 

She ate ice cream:



She learned to shoplift...or something. Ada is playing with these little craft puff balls. Judy made this video with her phone and sent it to me at work:




Thanks, by the way for all the supportive comments and emails on the last post. Deep down, I know I'm a good mother but it really helps to know that I'm not alone in those rare ugly times.

Loving by Instinct

I thrived in the American school system. I enjoy pulling out a heavy textbook, lined notebook paper and my multi-colored pens and sitting down to outline a chapter and then do the questions at the end. I like taking a test to see what I've learned and mark the conclusion of that chapter as a clear success or failure. Didactic learning: it's for me.

If life were set up this didactic way I would feel more confident about ... well, a lot of things. Slowly, as I've grown older and accepted more responsibility I've picked up on the fact that it just isn't that simple. Rarely does a single measure apply and everyone sees it from a different set of experiences and dreams. What would I do to have a singular, clear directive? For example, had there been a textbook entitled "Monica's PhD" I probably would have finished the damn thing faster and with far less frustration. Had I skipped ahead to the chapter where my advisor turned out to be a cheater I might have shelved that book and done something entirely different. I found breastfeeding difficult because I couldn't quantify how much milk she was getting: the scientist in me couldn't handle the inaccuracy of "baby is satisfied" or "baby is hungry". Can I put this on a scale from one-to-ten?



Motherhood has so many of the same elements. Yes, there are parenting books out there. Too bad I don't have a USB port in the back of my head to obtain the information within those books. These days, if I sit down with paper and pens I find myself drawing Elmo, a horsey, and a balloon on demand. It's not a bad problem to have, I'm just saying that I haven't actually finished a book since Ada was born. Not to worry, there is no shortage of feedback and unsolicited advice for parents.

Tim and I were grinding our teeth and heaving heavy sighs recently at Ada's penchant for the high-pitched scream. She's been at it since she went from a newborn to an infant. I may miss Cheerios on the floor and the constant demand for cuddling once she is grown but I won't miss the screaming. My Heart can clear a room with that ear drum-busting, headache-inducing scream of hers. When in public I find myself muttering "sorry" with my head hung down, gaze to the floor to avoid eye contact with a glaring strangers who make rude assumptions about my kid. I feel like I'm abandoning her while I cave to this social pressure to, above all else, keep my kid quiet lest she invade someone else's cool urban experience.

We've been counseled to ignore it. We've been told to say 'no'. Recently we were advised to yell at her. At the time I pointed out how counterintuitive that seemed and the conversation moved forward. Later that night it was just eating at me. Why did this suggestion bother me so much? I ran through a few self-queries before I landed on this one: yes, it will shut her up but it also steals a chunk of her spirit. The last thing I want to do as a parent is crush my child like you would break a horse. In fact, that's precisely the opposite of the mother I want to be.



Confession time.
We all have a parenting moment that we aren't proud of. Here's mine: Two weekends ago about 48 hours after I had a "non-viable" embryo sucked out of my uterus my hormones were taking a nose-dive. Tim was studying non-stop and the stress was like a thick, impenetrable fog. Things were not good. Ada and I had to leave the playground and she was carrying on because she had to leave a toy stroller behind. I buckled into her car seat all screaming and arching her back with tears sliding down her round cheeks. She kept it at full blast over my right shoulder as I drove the car. I didn't know she had this kind of stamina!

I could feel it rising in my body, how angry and frustrated I was feeling and I knew I was close to my boiling point. What I should have done was pull the car over and just get out. Just take a break. Instead, I did something that I still regret terribly: I yelled at her. I mean, I really yelled with a hard edge to my voice and I was loud to out-scream her enormous volume. I yelled something horrible like, "Ada! Shut up! Stop crying! It was a fucking stroller!" She quieted and whimpered with her tiny chest heaving and her lower lip quivering in a way that I hadn't seen before. She balled up her fists and twisted them over her eyes, turning her head tersely to the right to shut out what had just happened; to shut ME out.

I could tell that I had crushed her - I really, really hurt my child's feelings because I couldn't keep myself together. I felt like total shit, just ashamed of myself. I couldn't take it back - I couldn't undo what I had just done and I wished so feverishly that I could. The flurry of panicked questions flooded me: What mother behaves that way? Had God take my second child because I don't deserve one? I pulled the car over and sobbed with regret. I vowed it would NEVER again act out of anger and frustration. I promised her out loud I wouldn't.

Strategically spoken words carry as much sting and all the destruction of the back of a hand on a cheek. She will never have a reason to think she has lost my love even for a moment. For as long as I possibly can I will do everything in my power to preserve her purity, wonder, innocence...




her cooperative, kind, giving heart...



her goofiness, exploration, curiosity...



Compassionate parenting feels natural and right. I think I should trust my instincts on this one even though this isn't how I typically prefer to operate. I love my daughter - she is the very best of my own heart. I want to provide boundaries because it feels safe to know where those are. I'm pretty sure I can do this without being violent in my thoughts, words or actions.
I've heard it said that when you want to strangle your kids is when they need a hug the very most. Yes, she screams when she doesn't get her way. I can ignore a temper tantrum most of the time. The rest of the time, she really just wants attention. She needs it and I'm not always great at giving it to her. As if a kitchen sink empty of dishes is really more important than laying on the wool-ball and cheerio covered carpet doing puzzles with my daughter? Again, the point drives home and I wonder how many times do I need to learn this lesson? Will I "get it" before her childhood has fled?

Love your kid. Actively show love to her by actively paying her attention.

Nothing is more important than filling her tiny, blossoming soul with a bottomless well of love. 

I'll bet if it were in a textbook somewhere and I could outline it on lined notebook paper with multicolored pens that I would get it. I want an A+ on that exam.

Linking up with Shell at Pour Your Heart Out. So funny, I went to grab her button and read her post from last week. I guess I'm not alone after all. Everyone has a journey. I would love to hear all about it if you can relate to the most recent leg of mine.