give your people smiles.

Today we're celebrating our first Christmas with a baby, only he's 11 months old and baby hardly seems to describe Rowan anymore. He feeds himself food, climbs, flirts, elates in the ladies' smiles, problem solves, kicks and screams during diaper changes, throws himself on the floor in elaborate dramatic schemes, reaches high things on his tippy toes, reminds me of the pristine thrill of childhood joy.

I sound a little soupy, it's true. But you know that feeling when something is so cute you just  want to eat it all up? I do believe that's the sign of a full heart. It's an exciting time right now. I'm pretty sure this excitement will evolve into something a little more mature. And I sure could do without those tantrums. But for now I'm trying to make the most of being so lovestruck and giddy. (Doing so helps me keep perspective through the nighttime parenting journey and sleeping roadblocks.)

This year I decided against buying packaging materials. I taped together magazine pages to make wrapping paper, purged my ribbon scraps to embellish the gifts, and cut the unwritten fronts off of cards given to me in past years to use as gift tags. Wrapping presents took a whole lot longer, but I also enjoyed it a whole lot more than I normally would. We also celebrated Festivus with cheesecake cupcakes, good friends, wine, and lots of cheese food.

A few minutes ago, S said Merry Christmas and we kissed. Oops that we hadn't exchanged Christmas morning greetings yet. He also reminded me that the anniversary of our meeting was about a week ago; we'd both forgotten. We are true romantics.

Rowan is likely toward the end of a super nap, which will help him cope with the rambunctious family gathering we're heading to this afternoon. It helped me finish the last of the gift wrapping, too. We still have laundry to do, wine to buy, and suitcases to pack in their entirety for our early morning plane ride tomorrow. Wish us luck on our first long journey with a baby! Eeps.

Wishing you a beautiful holiday!

spark of rightness.

Do you ever have one of those moments where you breathe a sigh oh so sure that everything's right the way it is? I just had one of those moments. It's fleeting, because then you move on to the next thing and the feeling slowly glides away.

This morning I pulled out the Moby wrap, which we never really used because managing it as a fumbling new parent with a fragile new baby was overwhelming. When Rowan was an infant, he really didn't appreciate it (probably because we were fumbling). We splurged on an Ergo, loved it, and put the Moby away. But we are going on a 6-hour airplane ride pretty soon, and I'm thinking that long spool of stretchy fabric might be helpful on the flight.

I watched a few how-to videos (seriously guys, this baby wrap contraption is long) and put Rowan in it. He smiled up at me like it was a fun new game. He soon fell asleep while I prepared breakfast. We ate, readied our things to go hiking, and I made a gift-wrapping shopping list.

While I was choosing the clothes I'd change into after Rowan woke up, he stirred and switched the position of his head. I looked down and covered his head with the wrap, and bambeholdtheangels! That supermom feeling, or that moment of lightness, call it what you will. Uttered, it sounds like: This feels so right.

I looked into the mirror and realized that a.) I don't say that enough in my life, b.) S should take a picture of me feeling that all is right in our world, and c.) I should be blogging. So he did and so I am.

a time of understanding.

{thompson ave, where every house is lit up}

On October 13 last year, I sat in the American Embassy in Santiago, Chile, watching the miners being rescued on CNN, feeling my baby hiccup and kick, and eavesdropping on the consul interviewing my husband for his visa. We were in between seasons, in between continents, in between imaginings.

Within a month, we said our goodbyes, sold off bits of our lives, and packed the rest into duffle bags. At nearly eight months pregnant, we moved to the northern hemisphere--for another round of winter. I thought moving would be simple. That we're so adaptable that having a baby with no stability would still be a piece of cake.

Well, there was a lot more to this whole having a baby thing than I'd imagined. But somehow we made it work, Somehow every day these days--if even for a breath or two--I arrive to a place where it is as fun as I pictured it all those months ago.

I'm used to being sleep deprived, and at the same time I'm getting a little more sleep. We're growing a mini patio garden, we nurture (and occasionally murder--sorry!) houseplants. S + I take turns cooking. I turn the heat up too high, S turns it down. Sometimes the TV is on when Rowan is in the room, and I don't freak out. I give baths and nurse baby back to sleep at night. S makes me coffee in the morning (and sometimes in the afternoon). Rowan grabs garland off the Christmas tree and swats at the reachable houseplants. He pries the outlet covers out of the sockets. He explores, looks back to give a foxy smile, then continues to explore something a little further away.

We understand each other, and that understanding is magic. So we move to the rumpumpumpum beginnings of our family's rhythm. We are a family.

That family feeling didn't happen overnight. But it did happen. This is what I'm thinking about when I'm feeling all Christmasy for the first time in years.

What's on your mind?

patagonia in time lapse.

Guys, this is where we used to live. Granted, it's only the pretty side.  But it's all pretty in the end anyway. Sometimes I feel like I'm lost in a time lapse.

Have you ever been to Patagonia?

an anniversary.

It's our one-year anniversary of living back in the States. While I would thoroughly miss my friends and family if we weren't here, I find myself wondering why we are here. Not in an existential crisis sort of way, but in a 'life is really expensive and complicated here' sort of way.

All is right with the world if I'm feeling the usual pull.

• Part of me wishes I was wearing my trekking boots, breaking to patch blisters in howling gales while my fingers turn all icicly. To feel the walk-faster glee of pushing to a peak and, slowly not all at once, seeing what's beyond the lowering horizon. I'd be lugging the extra weight of a book, a journal, and the journey's rocks piling up.
• The other part wants to buys a sewing machine and make Rowan's clothes. Knit all the Christmas presents and adorn the packages with holly berries and redwood sprigs. To be the girl with glue guns and the roots of place. 

{but this could be nice gift :: glitzglitter}

The reality is I can barely motivate myself to leave the house for a 30-minute run. I might say I'm in a rut, but the truth is I'm living on air. I'm teaching Rowan to raise his hands up to the sky whenever I say Hallelujah! When he does it, he does it like Superman. And it's impossible for us not to smile.

autumn life.

sunday laundry :: cranberry bread :: a journey of a thousand miles :: maple leaves

what did you do this weekend?

give yourself a hug.

I thought I'd go against the grain or at least be a little subversive this Thanksgiving. Even though today is a pretty great day, I know we all probably feel like we are swimming on the wrong side of the lighthouse sometimes. The world makes a lot of ruckus and our brains make a lot of blahblahblah. 

{sunrise by kitschy kitschy cool}

Whenever all that noise gets to be too much, I try to unglue myself from it. By taking a moment to remember:

• My worries are optical illusions, and I can forgive myself for being a little gullible. 
• I've survived hard times, but I am not those hard times.  
• I've breathed in freezing sunrises, cozy inside my sleeping with a thermos full of coffee.
• I am love and I am you. 
• So I love you implicitly.
• I love me too, and the me that forgets that isn't really me at all.
• When I walk in the door, my baby crawls toward me in a way that equals running. He puts his hands on my feet and then climbs up my jeans (or pajama bottoms) until I pick him up.
• When he's in my arms, he puts both hands on my face and pulls me toward his open mouth, and that equals a kiss.
• My heart turns to goo every day. 
• I can breathe fine, even when my heart takes the consistency of pureed carrots. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

What are you thankful for today?

stacking.

Today we're staying indoors to avoid the sog. This morning I went a bit crazy pureeing baby food and simmering vegetable soup, cleaning baby slobber off all the mirrors in the house and scrubbing toilets.

Rowan's milestones continue to pour down, and I find it impossible to keep up. He's a great eater, though sweet potatoes are still his fave. He crawls like a racer, pulls himself up against anything, grabs my nose with aplomb, rolls his car toy, throws stuff, unstacks his stacking toy lighthouse, and takes better naps. In fact, he's in the middle of one of his stellar naps right now.

While we watch Another Year. At the beginning the psychologist, Gerri, asks her reluctant patient: What's the happiest memory you have?

I found myself wanting to answer this, never wanting to answer it because it seems finite, and wanting to save it for later.

What's the happiest memory you have?

our life lately.

big sur :: warm november days

cold nights :: central heat

sleep sharing :: and getting sleep

baby sign language :: not touching banana slugs

wine with friends :: movies with my husband

big leaf maple leaves underfoot :: monarch butterflies aflutter

it's a good life

how about you?

adding a little space to my step.

I feel thankful for.

love songs :: Right before my husband left the house to play soccer, he turned on Pandora and found an alternative indie love songs to play for me. You know, so we miss him more. Rowan's theme song for cruising around the coffee table and chewing the foamy corner safety edges is Friday I'm in Love.

autumn :: It's gray and moody outside. We went for a run along the beach trail, and the sea is so calm that the kite and wind surfing shack was closed. Even though the shoreline along Alameda isn't what you imagine when you imagine the beach, it still feels great to live so close to the ocean again.

{ultima esperanza fjord, puerto natales :: by serkan yalin}

past :: The only time I've lived within walking distance to the water was in Puerto Natales. Also not the picture you conjure when you think about going to the beach. But it's damn beautiful. Even in subzero temps. It's not that cold here, but last night I dreamed about the hooded puffy jacket I sold before we left Patagonia. I must have kicked off the covers and caught a chill.

forward :: This morning's run was my 10th comeback run (meaning 10 starts and 0 follow through) since I was pregnant. Gettin' there. Scenery and space are a big deal. 

present :: Rowan is asleep. I'm trying to spread out a little and take deep breaths. I am an open cocoon. 

Wishing you a weekend fully of scenery and space!

eating, singing, cherishing.

{summer meadow by cottage light studio}

tasting :: butternut squash soup with a dollop of parsley + sunflower seed pesto.
reading :: that's not my dragon
deciding :: on a big girl book to read
singing :: hush little baby + too-ra loo-ra loo-ra + splish splash and rub a dub
cherishing :: rowan at nine months old, giggles, kisses, crawling + crumbling block towers
blogging :: a quickie, because that soup was yummy
thinking :: that picture up there would look good on my office wall / nursery closet
thanking :: my lucky stars

what are you doing?

so much love.

This morning I start working around 5 a.m. By 9 a.m., I cry tiny tear rivers after reading Mona Simpson's eulogy for Steve Jobs. His final words and realization: Oh wow oh wow oh wow. What did he see?

At noon, my aunt comes over with her grandchildren. We stroll to the beach, picnic, the girls make sandcastles in the sand in weather so much sunnier than summer. When we walk by the hospital where my uncle died, my aunt mentions not liking that hospital. It's Halloween. The eldest grandchild asks in a spooky voice if it's a scary hospital. "Oh, well, it is to me," my aunt replies. To me all hospitals are scary, I think.

Early evening rolls around and S and I are deciding on the overly cozy pea-in-the-pod costume or the thinner Dracula costume. It's hot outside (and Rowan's a little milk vampire), so we go with the latter. We meet up with friends and walk around downtown where one of my best friends is accused of wearing a pregnant lady costume. Of course, it's a real belly with a real baby inside, who will soon join this world; 7 billion something in the big scheme of the world population.

{dracula by elena grover}

And what a complicated 7 billion we are, with as many legacies. Imagine if we could all hire eloquent biographers to distill our lives into hardcover books. Someone so interested in our lives that they interview our friends and family to get to know us on multiple levels. This is what I wanted to do for my mom when I was much younger. Of course it wasn't for her, it was for me. I knew that then as I know it now. Still, nothing has ever come of that desire because of bashfulness, laziness, fear. 

Once our overly tired vampire is sleeping, S and I eat dinner. I tear up again, describing Mona's eulogy and Steve's' last words. I recall the last words of my mom as heard by my aunt: I see nana and Sharon (her sister who died only months before she did), and so much love.

It's Halloween. The day the invisible wall between our world and the spirit world thins. Today I feel like I'm peeking through to the other side. I see light. I see a mirror reflecting this life--in its various stages--back at me.

What do you see?

a moveable feast

{view from land's end}

Indian summer is in full swing here, so we dipped Rowan's feet in the Pacific for the first time. He was a little worried.

{baby toes meet the ocean}

But even though the days have been warm, the nights are chilly and crisp fall convinced me to wear a scarf and hat yesterday evening. I'm craving butternut squash soup and drinking lots of jasmine pearl tea.

S bought a TV. I'm not thrilled about that, but he's been on a movie strike. Meaning he refused to watch movies on the computer screen for months. The other night we hunkered together to watch the magic that is Midnight in Paris. Have you seen it? That movie makes me happy. And while I'm not a huge fan of the huge screen in our living room--which will now be a permanent fixture--I admit I want to watch Hemingway pick fights and call the sexy girls moveable feasts on the big screen.

Rowan turns nine months old on Thursday. He'll be almost as old as the time he grew and lived in my body. It simultaneously feels impossibly long and like he's lived with us for much longer than that. He is living proof that time is a useless accordion. I wonder how I could turn that into a Halloween costume.

What are your cravings lately? 

What will you be for Halloween?

and so we adapt.

Dear Rowan,

Lately we look at this every day.

Puerto Natales, Chile, where you were almost born.

I like to see this 10x20 print unscrolled in the kitchen, waiting to be framed. Of course it looks cold and romantic, quiet, a little bit sleepy.

There's this emotive sky at dusk when the streetlights light up dimly. And you really feel like you're at the end of the world. See me? Wearing my favorite San Francisco boots, jeans, a patchwork skirt, a couple layers of shirt beneath a puffy jacket, scarf, hat. Walking fast cuz it's cold and confident cuz I don't belong there, feeling like I can do anything because I am there.

Even though it seems pretty dark, looking at that picture makes me want to go back. Life is visually lighter here in the Indian summer of California, but a bit cluttered and clumsy too. I continue to struggle with whether we belong here. (Apparently, I still have some reckoning to do with this matter of belonging.)

For the moment I'm happy to remember that exhilarating feeling of living at the bottom of the world.
And to share it with you, whether we're looking at the photo or in the mirror every morning together. All the mirrors in the house are covered with your slobbery handprints. Yep, I'm a mom. I still turn the idea over in my hand, smooth as a river stone by now. I'm a home, and I'll be your home for a while yet. Wherever we are, that's where we belong.

I promise to do my best to help you feel like you belong, wherever you are. But don't ever move that far away from me. I might just follow you!

mirrors are the way to go.

Not much going on in these parts. I've been working on a couple of mini essays for the blog, but nothing that I can seem to finish in the amount of time I have between working, caregiving, and nesting. After being on the computer all day for work and often not leaving the house at all, it's hard to sit at the computer even more.

I already feel like I'm neglecting things as it is. After baby is asleep, it's time for S + I to spend a pocket of time together. To remember what it was like to be a couple, just like in those pictures we put up on the photo wall over the weekend. 

{mantel by my sister's suitcase}

Meanwhile a million little things tug at my eyeballs: a sea of correspondences, Rowan's baby book to assemble, books to read, nails to be trimmed, floors to be cleaned, fabric to iron, a mantel to decorate. Not to mention the deeper endeavors of meditation, yoga, love letters. Our baby still wakes up a whole lot, though it's been getting better. Last night he gave us three hours of uninterrupted adult time. But tonight he's woken up twice already and it's not even 9.30. We take baby steps. How do all you mamas do it? I used to be organized.

{mantel by perfectly imperfect}

But let's talk about mantels. We have a fireplace! A super 1970s fireplace, complete with oozing mortar between the brickwork and dark faux wood paneling above the mantel. I'm not complaining, because I love the fact that we even have a fireplace. But somehow I would love that space to be lighter and whiter. Sure it's an apartment, but unless we change countries again, we'll be staying here for a while. So... I've been seeking mantel inspiration. And I'm seriously considering wallpaper.

Do you have a mantel? What's going on up there?

today i spy...

Today we had our first rain in a while. The dwarf orange tree we bought a week ago is blooming its delicious scent, and we all love it. I know Rowan wants to devour the flowers, because his grabbing hands open and close like butterflies and he circles his wrists, reaching for the green leaves. But when I fly him over the tree and put his sniffer in the flowers, his eyes widen and narrow at the same time and he opens his mouth in a way that helps him breathe in the sweetness better. Tonight those flowers are waving wildly in the wind. I hope they're not yelling for help.

Today I realized that we pretty much feed everything to Rowan somehow masked with the essence of sweet potato. He was eating other things before, but apparently he really loves his sweet potatoes. Tonight S and I ate a sweet potato each for dinner. I put salt, yogurt, and sumac on mine, and he put cinnamon in his--which opposite to our normal flavor palates. He's been feeding Rowan a lot lately, while I work in my perfect cubbyoffice inside the nursery closet. I guess S has been getting a little jealous of Rowan's meals. I'm just happy S loves sweet potato as much as Rowan does.

{a view of the tatra mountains :: by all that is interesting}

Today started with a vow to not think negative thoughts. Which would be rephrased to: think positive thoughts. And then edited to: Think positive. And then fanned back out into a thought bubble: Well... "think positive" is not exactly the same as "don't think negative thoughts." There's something more complex about the latter. But then maybe I'm just complicating things. My ego brain revels in making mountains out of mole hills. Really, it's time to stop thinking at all. And talking. You know what they say about not having anything nice to say. Ick. Who wants to be that person? (See? How I just did it?) That sort of negativity has a way of creeping up on us collectively!

So let's try to make this a complaint-free day. Let's observe our thoughts.

What do you eavesdrop? 

I know that's really personal, you don't have to answer that.

eight months in photos.

We spent a good part of Sunday morning and early afternoon on the couch piecing together a photo history of Rowan's short life. We've been pretty haphazard about taking a monthly photo, but it seems that we've managed to capture his monthly birthday on film. Here he is, month by month, if you're into that stuff.

{you still sleep like this}

{one month}

{two months}

{three months}

{four months}

{five months}

{six months}

{seven months}

{eight monfs. yep, those are milk teef}

Today Rowan turned eight months old. We bought a dwarf orange tree and some succulents to celebrate this crazy fact.

settling in.

{world map collage by artandphilanthropy}

A Friday thankfulness post, just like the good ole days.

for having moved :: Now that we have more space, we're working on making our home more comfortable. This means an imminent couch purchase, a nursery for mama to slowly decorate, and, oh we have to do something about that kitchen table. It's bar height, and we only have two chairs. When we have guests, we enjoy picnic-style dinners on the floor, which isn't all that comfortable for the pregnant ladies ('cuz I'm at that stage in life where I have a lot of pregnant friends). Plus it's a little worrisome to eat with toddlers and red wine that close to the carpet. Though, I've always been a floor sitter, and I'd be happy with a living room full of pillows and bean bags on a plush area rug. And the high table was perfect when S was away and I was on simultaneous baby and work duty. I'd wear Rowan and work at the high table for a couple hours a day.

my own office :: It's in Rowan's closet, so you can see that we have ample space to put stuff away if we're using an entire deep wide closet for mama's office. I didn't even use my desk (which has a special place in my heart because it was my grandpa's desk) before, because it was placed in such an odd-energy spot in our angular one-bedroom apartment. I used to work in the rocking chair. In fact I did everything in that rocking chair: breastfed, ate breakfast, blogged, rocked the baby. I still do all these things in this rocking chair. But now I have a cubbyhole oasis where I can escape to work without paying for expensive coffee in a cafe with Internet, which is what I used to do when S was home.

my love is home :: One of these days I will write a post about how I survived taking care of a baby while working from home. I was lucky enough to have S home for 2-4 of my work days every week, but the days he wasn't there were pretty stressful. I'm a perfectionist, and I often felt like I wasn't doing anything well. Now that he's here, my days are more regular. The time I spend with Rowan is focused quality time, and at the end of the day I can do something besides work.

young love is contagious :: Yesterday we saw two people speedwalking hand-in-hand while we were driving. I smiled, and S said they look like a new couple. He said exactly what I was thinking before I had finished cooking the words. I thought it was simultaneously sweet that he could jinx my thoughts and sad that we would both see the happiness of another couple and see love in its infancy. I mean, who doesn't want to feel that "we can conquer anything together" intimacy of aimless speedwalking off into the sunset with the one you love? So I said, We could be like that too. We still are kinda, right? And then I started fishing.

it is still an adventure :: Considering all the adventures we've navigated together, having a baby was a huge transition. It feels good to remember that this is our grandest journey yet. And we can make it as grueling or exciting as we want to. The most important thing in parenthood as with travel is flexibility. And honestly, I wouldn't trade those huge, open-mouth slobberkisses (and that quiet babble sigh that says I love you mommy) for the world.

What are you thankful for right now?

secretly glad.

Our new apartment is less of a disaster every day after moving here last Tuesday, and that's about all I have to say for myself. We're on our way to finding our new rhythm. S will be here on the weekends now, and summer has finally arrived. So even though we're eating sweet potato with pumpkin ice cream and the leaves on the trees lining our street are threatening to fall, I feel like a sliver of summer is still mine to enjoy.

I'm torn between exploring and helping Rowan get used to his new home--which means being home, decorating, giving it our energy, and following the bedtime routine that we've gotten used to. So while part of me really wants to go camping, I'm secretly glad I can blame Rowan and just nest.

{though i wouldn't mind going here :: photo by tunio_div4oto}

What are you secretly glad for?

reconnecting my dots.

Preface: In true mommy blog form that this is, I started writing this almost a week ago and haven't had a free minute since. A Patagonian friend is visiting us, and we are in the process of moving. Like we have to have everything done seven days from now.

So, I had a little more time at the computer this weekend than I normally do, so I was catching up on blogs--which is what I normally do when I have a little extra computer time. (Though obviously I didn't have enough time to finish this post.) Let's just say, the other day I saw another friend with a baby bump and I realized, My yes, I have been away a long time. I'm effusively writing congratulations, when Rowan commences to fuss. I hurry to hit send, and then I go pick him up (priorities, ya know?). I pick him up and he gleams, staring up at the fan. I lift him higher onto my hip, his happy mouth wide open as he cranes to get a better look at the fan. His eyes are deep lakes of wonder.

{renee + jeremy :: it's a big world!}

I dive into Rowan's eyes, reminiscing about how difficult these last several months have been for me. And how life affirming. It's impossible to splash in such deep lakes of wonder without experiencing wonder too.

Still, having a baby is a huge transition. That new person changes life indelibly. (Yeah, like I need to write that.) There are other changes that--thank goodness--don't last forever. Like those hormonal shifts and that feeling of instability. I recently found myself reconnecting my dots, and it feels really good. Like I'm coming to a deeper understanding of me--outside of me and where I don't even exist. (Try to explain that to physics.) I'm enjoying everything more. I'm cooking again, starting to exercise a little, and laughing more. Whew. It's all starting to feel a little bit normal.

I can't blame motherhood for all this thinking. It's just one of those events in life that urges you to examine matters of being more than you might have before. Leading an examined life tends to be cyclical (unless you're Buddha and totally committed), and it certainly doesn't require the membership of parenthood. Being a mom is just one of those things that's put me more in tune with my higher self. (Though, I was definitely better able to stay in tune with that part right after meditating in silence for 10 days. Not sure how I'll get that calm back. Well, sometimes, during breastfeeding. Maybe I used to get it from running too.)

{hummingbird hues by design seeds}

We've been getting lots of visits from hummingbirds, who come to suck the nectar out of the basil's flowering tips. I wonder how how often I fail to notice this?

What's been visiting you lately?

time to be thankful.

Time for a dose of thankful. I haven't done one of these posts in a while, even though I've really needed them in my life. Right now I'm thankful for...

That monkey :: I love how Rowan welcomes the first toy we bought for him in Chile (and that I slept with for months) into his hug and into his mouth full of joy.

{I think rowan was about a month old here}

Fat juicy open mouth kisses :: It took me a while to understand what you were doing, but now I know that when you lunge at my face with your mouth open wide, you are coming in for a kiss. (Of course this is written to Rowan; otherwise that would be weird.)

Swinging :: Just like the old days. When Rowan used to nap in the swing. Peace. Swish swash swish swash swish swash swish swash swish swash. He's loved that thing since the moment our friends let us "borrow" it. Without going into all the details, they basically bought another of the same swing recently, after they had their second baby. We were a little embarrassed to find that out, because we'd intended to give it back. Rowan is getting a bit big for the swing, and he doesn't hardly sleep in it anymore. But what am I saying? He still totally digs it. Sometimes he just likes to chill there and watch the world. You know, after he's tired of all that unsupported sitting and interacting with textures, toys, board books, and parents. It's a nice passive stimulation (don't get me wrong, Rowan is still a pretty much in-arms baby. We all just seem to need a little bit of both.) Sometimes he bounces the seat and squeals. Sometimes he moves his head in an upcurl toward the direction of the upswing, like he's trying to make it go faster. Then there are those rare moments when he's been napping in the swing for a good while, I didn't have to do anything to get him there, and I can sit and watch him, drink my coffee while it's still warm, and blog. Well, that, my friends, is just a little bitty slice of heaven pie. So, no matter what our protests say, we really do like the swing; thank you.

Two sharp incisors :: Yes, those bottom teeth that caused us so much heartache are now a part of those giant kisses too.

{sweet potatoes with a big boy spoon}

My husband :: I might have mentioned something about Rowan's eating mushy solids here. But that would be too predictable. It's been quite the journey to get here, physically and spiritually. Our baby is 31 weeks old. We've been through a lot together since kissing in back of the bus on the way to Punta Arenas talking about our future children--after only knowing each other a month or so. Now it's hard to imagine that there was a time when we didn't know each other.

What are you thankful for?

Life is getting back to normal. You know how sometimes it can feel like you're to busy to play? Well, play is an important part of my inner life, and I've been forgetting that lately. Rowan is a good reminder. But I need to get back in touch with my kidness even when I'm not with his royal chubbiness.

We spent the past few days having fun. We invited some good friends over for dinner on our anniversary. On Friday we celebrated our marriage by drinking cocktails and going out to dinner and serendipitous live music--with Rowan. After some initial fawning over the lights and pretty girls, Rowan was ready to be quiet. I basically hid him under the breastfeeding cover the whole time, and we all enjoyed a wonderful dinner. Mommy and daddy even requested to be serenaded by Al Green's "Let's Stay Together." Now we have another "that's our song" to add to our arsenal, which includes "Home" by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes and "She's All I Got" by Johnny Paycheck, cuz we are sappy like that.

Today we left the house early to pick up a jogging stroller in a place we've never been, because Serkan is home. After we bought the stroller, we headed to Peet's for coffee. We drank it in the half shade on a bench beneath a tree in the plaza while watching the older kids kick up sand in the playground. Classical music on a loudspeaker on the other end of the square completed the scene. Then we headed to check out a couple more apartment possibilities back by the bay, finally deciding on which apartment we would apply for! This is no small feat; we've been looking for a couple of weeks already. We ate a yummy breakfast at a local cafe in our (maybe) new hood. Then we headed to play tourist in sunny San Francisco.

Mission fun: accomplished.

What's your happy spot today?

happy anniversary!

{next year i'm getting you this :: from jcjewelrydesign}

Dear Dreamboat,

Happy anniversary! Thank you for the flowers. They are delicious. Thank you for responding to my wish to have gotten you something by saying: don't worry; we'll have lots of these.

I hope you know that I know how lucky I am to share my life with you.

Grrrrrr...

end of summer sweat.

{by katie quinn davies via creature comforts}

I hope you are all enjoying your end of summer or the beginning of your spring. The evening air here is a different kind of crisp already. Nights are typically sweater weather, but autumn's wind has a different bite to it. Still, it's warm enough to enjoy drinks with ice in sweaty mason jars. And I intend to listen to the baritone clinks of ice in my glass of blueberry juice while ice still feels like a good idea.

happy transitions to you!