goodnight, goobye

tunnel of love

happiness is...

...water, or "wawa," per X. "Wawa, wawa, wawa" was all I heard the entire time we were in Maui. Oh, there were a few "mamas" and "papas" thrown in there for good measure, but the word "wawa" got the most mileage by a long shot. Running water (the foot wash) or still water (the pool) were his favorites, crashing water like that of the ocean rated slightly lower only because he found it somewhat terrifying. He was clearly wary of the way it crept up on him unawares & smashed on the beach with such a deafening roar. And I was glad for his healthy fear as it kept me from having to chase him into the waves.

missing out

"You missed an awesome chance to hang out with some real Hawaiians!" declared my brother. He was obviously annoyed.

My jaw dropped. We had been tooling around Hana all day, hitting beaches, visiting his friends, and the night had fallen quickly. X was tired, starving & I was feeling a little sorry for him for being jerked around for days on end so that we could enjoy our nice Maui vacation. It was going on 7pm & we hadn't had dinner, X was starting to act crazy & pissed off & I knew it was past time to pack it in. His friends weren't all that hospitable to begin with & their home was shockingly unsanitary. There was no way I was going to try to put X to bed there, even if they had offered a place to settle him (which they hadn't).

"You are way too worried about that kid, you know. You are so far up his ass! -you should have just let him run off & play with my friend's kids, you know, then we coulda partied late & had a real good time!"

Whoa. This is all so far beyond what any mother can expect in terms of criticism, especially when that criticism comes from a 40-something single man with no children of his own. I should have known things could get uncomfortable when on the phone some months ago he told me that if I "ever need advice about raising kids I can always ask him." Apparently, having a few friends with kids entitles one to lay claim to expert child-rearing status. During that same conversation he advised me that I should have "detached early, let 'em get used to being on their own as soon as possible." Um, sure. Okay. Obviously we were not on the same page.

I felt defensive, clearly. I tried to argue with him, despite knowing in the background that it was futile & I would be better served by beating my head against a wall:

"X is only 14 months & can scarcely walk on his own! -he doesn't 'run off & play' with anyone! -do you know what would have happened if I had let him 'run off & play?' -he would have fallen almost immediately, or got into something he shouldn't be into, he would probably hurt himself, hopefully not horribly, but in any case he'd come crying to me pronto! -And boy, that sure sounds like fun, doesn't it? -who do you think could possibly have 'fun' while her kid is crying, tired & hungry?"

"He doesn't play with other kids??? -they speak the same language! -you really need to ease up! -what was gonna happen? -you just missed a great chance to hang out & party with real Hawaiians!"

What I didn't say, & have regretted ever since this moment, was this: "Look: I am missing out on a lot of things, brother. This is what happens when you have kids. You miss out on shit."

And another thing I didn't say: "You're the one who missed out: you missed out on a chance to be kind & hospitable to your sister who you see once every decade or so!"

What I did say, after flailing madly to argue with someone who couldn't possibly understand where I was coming from ("pearls before swine" is an impolitic way of putting it): I know my child one hundred million zillion times better than you do or ever will know him. I know when he is signaling to me that he is hungry. I know when he is tired & wants to go to bed. I make the decisions about how best to meet his needs, not you. If you have advice to offer because you genuinely fear for X's well-being, by all means offer it. But you can see that he is a well-adjusted, sweet, easy-going, even-tempered child, and you've said so yourself. The absolute truth is that I have no interest in hearing your opinion because it is uninformed & it comes from a place of inexperience. So in the future I will respect you to keep it to yourself. I do not care what you think of my parenting.

And that shut him up! Truly! Not another word!

big waves, small human

We visited some quite serious surfing beaches with my half-brother in Hana (pictured above). He's only lived in Hana for the last several years, but has called Hawaii home for the better part of the past three decades. He skipped out on us at 15 (a day I remember well, although I was only 5), moved to Arizona for a brief spell, caught a flight to Hawaii & found himself sleeping on beaches in Honolulu soon enough. He worked his way up in kitchens in the big town, gaining the skills necessary to flaunt the sous-chef title (sous-chef, never chef or a chef-like salary, living sans credentials). Cooking, surfing, getting high & playing guitar is pretty much it for him, & has been since the early years. He's pushing 46, twice divorced, no kids & he lives a lifestyle not unlike something I might have sported with indifferent pride in my late teens or early twenties. For a middle-aged man to live in this way is almost humorous, bordering sometimes on tragic.

He is astonishing like our father, despite spending so little time in his company over the years. Something about losing out on love early on must have damaged them in the same places inside & in the same way (my father's mother died when he was 5, my brother's father left his mom when he was a toddler). Like my dad, he doesn't listen to anything anyone says ever. And I mean that. He is strikingly incurious about the lives of others. I don't believe he asked us at any time how we were doing, what our lives in Portland look like, or what we think about or care about. Rather, he blathered on & on about his own business & talked over anyone who tried to interject anything or respond or open something resembling a dialogue rather than the bland, nonstop monologue, which was clearly his preference. It was odd, but not unfamiliar to me & I expected something of the sort based on our phone conversations over the years.

I wish I had something more positive to report about my experience in his company. And I always wish the same about time spent with my dad. Unfortunately, this is almost all there is.

beach baby

That's right, you guessed it: this isn't the Oregon coast. We were lucky enough to spend a week in beautiful Maui with my parents who were celebrating their 40th wedding anniversary (& who graciously picked up the lodging tab, thereby making such exotic travel more affordable for us).

climbing

paradise

future blogger

accidental cio

It was a rare sunny evening in Portland. The promise of summer was palpable & nothing seemed better than to loiter long over beer on the front porch as the cool crept over the city & night fell. I settled X, plugged in the monitor & hustled out to join M in the fading light. I asked him if he'd tested the monitor, as it had been known to be spotty -especially out of doors. He affirmed that it was in fine working order & I nestled into an Adirondack with a crisp Sierra Nevada. We chatted about this & that, revisited the highlights of our day, mourned the oil spill in the Gulf (it's a daily habit now) & did our best to enjoy the precious few moments we have to share just the two of us.

About a half hour passed & it occurred to me that X was uncharacteristically chill (yes, you read that right -I said a half hour. Don't judge me). Mistrusting the monitor, I creaked open the front door & was met by a solid wall of heart-rending wailing. X was sobbing wretchedly in bed & I had no idea how long he'd been doing so. Two minutes? -Twenty? It was intolerable to me to imagine him crying thus for ages, waiting, wondering where I was & when I was going to finally attend to him.

I rushed into the room, wiped his tears, and offered him my breast. I was a chanting mess of apologies, "so sorry, I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to..." He failed to calm. He was clearly wrecked with anxiety. I sobbed alongside him & begged his forgiveness.

It took a long while to get him settled again. And I am not talking about just that night. Every day & night after that for at least a week he was a stressed out ball of fear. Every time I tried to leave him, even just to go to the bathroom, he grew anxious & clingy & strange. He refused to tolerate his father's attentions, screaming in a new & hideous way until I held him. He clutched at my body desperately with a great, gripping, claw-like grasp, as though he were afraid should he loosen his hold I might slip away forever.

I worried that 14 months of unflagging devotion had been ruined by one calamitous night of folly, that the months of dependable, doting care was all for naught. The trust was now broken & from this day forward my child was going to look at me a little sidelong, a little warily, wondering if I were truly someone he could count on for the long haul.

Thankful this seems not to be the case. The days & nights between then & now were seemingly interminable, but the anxiety has waned & trust has been restored & he does not scratch & claw at me in the same pathetic way any longer, thank goodness. As my friend B reminds me, "you showed up. You didn't just let him cry. Sure, it took a while, but you came eventually." It's true, but is some cold comfort -I wish he had never had to cry. The stress of those days is with me still & I swear to myself I will never let anything like that happen again.

Of course, we bought a new monitor & tossed the old one on the trash heap. And I have a hard time trusting the new one even still as I creep in from time to time to listen, quietly, to the sound of my baby's tranquil, trusting breathing in the dark.

tiny house starts small

The custom-built trailer arrived today & M spent the afternoon inventorying his materials & getting ready for the big workshop in early June. The plan is spend a Saturday working with other tiny house enthusiasts to build the foundation & raise one wall. The rest is up to us to figure out on our own...

sea life

low tide

release

...there is nothing quite so nice as sharing a few brews at the end of a sunny day at the Oregon coast.

abandoned

We took a long weekend & spent it in Newport at the coast with our dear friend K & V (now upgraded to Auntie & Uncle status, lacking any other family close at hand). The sun shone, but weather was blustery & a bit chill, but X didn't mind so thrilled was he to fill his hand with sand & watch it run out.

generations