Presence

In the midst of an unrelenting series of diapers and decisions, feedings and fussiness, it is easy to overthink motherhood. My mind is a steady hum and zing of new plans, fears, regrets, problems and strategies. Returning to the present with Archer is my most difficult challenge, but when I am fully aware and present with him, we experience such joy. Writing some of these moments down is a reminder to me that to love my son is to just be with him here and now...

Reading

Wobbly and drooling
He’s perched on my lap
Reaching toward the ebb of pages
I rock and sway and read
Turning slowly
With sturdy breath
As the story tumbles toward truth.
My husband rolls onto his side
Looks up at us from the floor
And in the twilight-musked nursery
Weeping swells in our chests
Like yeast in soft rising dough


Sleep Deprivation

Feeling tomorrow’s tears
Upon me now
Lying prostrate and rigid, I listen.
The baby inhales in a pulsing rhythm
Content enough
To sleep for another ten minutes.
I blink and shift in ropey sheets
When, like toast popping, a tiny fist
Jolts him awake
Grunting, stretching, reddening –
Crying for milk and pleasant dreams.


Feeding

Milk-white fingertips graze my chin
Sprouted from a cupped hand
Atop a dancing, floating arm
Hinged on a dimpled shoulder
Curving to a tickle-pink neck
Holding the head tucked into my arm’s pillow
Glossing the lips pursed and sucking
The bulged nipple fading into freckles and veins
Crawling softly over breasts that hide
My easy heart
As I do nothing
But watch you feed


Someday

You’ll strain the steaming fettuccine noodles
Giving the handles a firm shake
And wait for the last few drops of boiled water
To fall.
Or you’ll rinse the grapes you clipped
From your fruiting concord vine
Set them on a towel
In the middle of your old, scarred table
For some important guests.
But right now
The colander is a drum
A wooden spoon your drumstick
Your wet whistle tongue, babbling
As you beat your belly's best tune
And grin at the boom-bam-boom.

Baby's First Family Vacation

Is it depressing that our first family vacation was in Hanford, Washington?
Perhaps.
Could our motel room be described as "sex worker friendly" or "crack house chic?"
Sure.
Did we have an outstanding time playing ultimate frisbee and yukking it up with great friends anyway?
Yes indeed.

Whatcha Doin' There, Arch?

Hop On Pop

Their very own version of Suessian antics...

The Naming

The first grandchild certainly begets a frenzy of excitement in many facets of family life, not the least of which involves names. And not just the obvious naming of the new child, but the question of what each family member will be called in relation to that child. I was very specific about the pronunciation of my name as a brand new aunt -- "it is AWNtie Jill," I'd explain, "like with a Boston accent." This was my pretentious attempt to claim some of my mom's background for my own. I remember my mom taking weeks, nay months, to decide upon her name as a grandmother, probably loosing many hours of sleep muttering, "Grams...no...GiGi...nope...Granny...oh no..." My dad was the only one who had it easy -- Trenton named him Big Papa as a differentiation from his other grandfather, Papa.

Now the Burns clan has embarked on the same self-naming exercise, and so far we've got some real winners in my opinion: Auntie Bomb (notice double meaning), Auntie Ridgey (rolls off the tongue), and Auntie Molly (as a differentiation from her own Aunt Molly). For a while it looked like Becky and Jim were going for the classic "Grandma and Grandpa," but are now considering spicier options. When the dust settles, Archer might just go ahead and name them himself -- you never know.

Call us crazy, but I think Phil and I are going with Mom and Dad.

Autumn Beauty

Fall initially depressed me, as I stared out the window at the relentless sheeting rain and ever-expanding brown puddles. Our apartment suddenly shrank before my very eyes. Archer bleated with discontent at the monotonous sight of the same blue-gray strip of carpet that he had occupied every day for the past week. What could I do with a pre-walking baby through the wet months of autumn in Bellingham? I immediately went online and ordered a rain shield for our backpack carrier. Then I coerced Archer's squirming limbs into his fleece bunting and homemade yellow rainsuit, setting out on a walk through campus. The wind swirled a sunset of leaves across the green lawns and swooshed a raucous song in our ears. We blew raspberries into the whipped air. When our cheeks turned rosy and the boy's fingers were tiny slivers of ice, we returned home for some warm oatmeal and a bath. Setting him down on that same strip of carpet, I placed some freshly harvested squash from our CSA veggie box in front of him. He immediately flapped his arms and stretched his mouth into a sunny grin. Not so bad after all. Bring on the winter.

The Play Mat

I have to say, this play space set up is genius. Archie plays here with reckless abandon; banging toys together, rolling and scooting from corner to corner, yelping with a vexing combination of delight and frustration, and, of course, flirting with the handsome boy in the mirror. His room has been stripped down to the barest essentials: play mat, toy bin, rocking chair. And then there's the decorations: a funky wind sculpture from Orcas Island, a tropical fish mobile from Mexico, and a few wall hangings, including my sweet Wonder Woman (a la Linda Carter early 1980's) poster. We've also just finished up the last of the baby-proofing, including tennis balls on the points of the rocking chair, electrical cords duct taped to the wall, and a guard covering the baseboard heater. Archie's room has now officially become his space for unfettered exploration.

He Feeds Himself (Sort Of)

It is a bit unnerving to watch him gnawing on big chunks of cracker or banana. He has this urgent little scream he emits when he gags, and I tend to obsessively perform periodic sweeps of his mouth, only to find that he has already spat out the offending chunk onto his lap or the floor. But when he clutches a tiny chunk of soggy food, jams it into his maw, gums it thoughtfully, and swallows it triumphantly -- well it just makes a mama so proud. What a talented masticator.

We Have Tooth.

After months of drooling, toy-chewing, and oh-look-he-must-be-teething comments, we FINALLY have a tooth erupting from the bottom of Archer's gumline. It's a sharp little sucker, too. I audibly yelped when he chomped down on my thumb yesterday.

The Montessori Way

When it became clear that Archer was becoming too big and too active for his cradle, I began to think seriously about how we should move forward with his room, play space, and sleeping arrangement. Rather than shift to a crib, we decided Archer would transition straight to a floor bed, which is essentially the full size futon that he has been using as his play mat for the past few months. This is just one of the "counter-culture" moves that we've decided to go with for the boy, and it has not come without some resistance and skepticism from family, friends, as well as ourselves.

A bit of background: our good friend Karin is a Montessori teacher for infants and toddlers in Santa Cruz, and the last time she was in Bellingham I was about 6 months pregnant. We (Phil, Karin, Jill, Archer) spent some time together, waxing philosophical about child development over mojitos and club sodas at the Callaloo Caribbean Bar. She explained some of the basic tenants of Maria Montessori's theory and pointed me in the direction of some good resources for further research. We stayed on into the night as Karin and Phil chattered excitedly about integral psychology and developmental stages. I decided to follow the general ideas associated with the Montessori model, as they seemed to be in line with the things that Phil and I value as people and as budding parents.

So, at this point in Archer's development, I see the following concepts being particularly important. After reading a bunch of information about Montessori philosophy, I've paraphrased and grouped in and way that makes sense to me:

Healthy learning environments: play with toys made from natural materials, limit number of toys at one time, model a sense of order, don't forget to be outdoors.

Freedom for exploration: establish and monitor safety, foster independence, encourage uninhibited movement, imagine the child saying, "help me to do it myself," wear clothing built for movement.

The baby's "work": defined as "an activity that involves both the mind and the body and has some purpose which fulfills the individual." These might include self feeding, drinking water from cup, practicing standing with a pull up bar, observing parents "work," or any other activity that allows baby to go about the "work" of developing in a healthy way.

As I read the items above, I suddenly realize that at first glance it may all seem dogmatically anti-fun. On the contrary, I think that these practices emphasize the joyful experience of learning and playing as the most important thing that a baby does. It has been a real delight to watch Archer test out his new abilities (and challenges) each day - his confidence keeps growing steadily. Of course Montessori is not "the one true way." And there is a decent chance that he will grow up just exactly the same no matter what "philosophy" we adopted. But if he does develop and internalize some of values emphasized in this particular way of being in the world, well, then, that is just super.

What's With Our Love For "Food on Face" Shots?

My sisters-in-law know that I am staunchly anti-foodsmearedalloverbaby'sface photos. What is cute about greasy globules dripping from a tiny double chin or crusty particles lining the nostrils or slimy cheeks? Okay, okay - I'll tell you what's cute about it - the Cheshire Cat grin.

This photo is courtesy of my mom - another sucker for the foodsmearedalloverbaby'sface photo.