Love Letters to Little Bear

hamilton

2017-04-14T22:47:00.001-07:00

dear one,

finally, at long last, after months of requests from you, i have started reading your book hamilton: the revolution and am making good progress.

the more i read, and the more complexity that develops between and within characters, i feel like i understand hamilton's unique appeal to you. i know your friends like it, too, but it seems to me that it has exactly what you, in particular, need, in the form best suited to you right now. the fact that it is a musical, of course, but also the yearning, disappointment, and death, cleverly told, deeply humanized, and fully adult — yet not too adult for fourth graders to relate to.

at your age, it is important to begin understanding the larger world independently. to glimpse different life paths, greater and lesser sufferings, the limitations that society puts on people, the limitations we put on ourselves, and our inability, often, to see who we are, what we are doing, and where we are headed.

your dad and i have both found much solace in the arts since childhood and you have that same deep need. as i read your book and connect with you through our shared fascination with hamilton's story (as told by chernow), lin-manuel miranda's invocation of it, and jeremey mccarter's narrative describing miranda's invocation, i feel a sense of you stepping into your growing independence and recognizing the supports that will be out there for you in the world: literature, visual art, music, and perhaps most of all, theater.

thank you for inviting me into hamilton's world. i hope we will always be able to connect through stories.

:)

2017-04-08T22:54:00.001-07:00

fun one,

last night we were lying on your bed goofing around and i made you laugh so hard you got hiccups.

i love laughing with you.

xo

hello again

2017-04-06T01:29:00.003-07:00

little bear,

it's been a long time since i last wrote. you are not so little anymore. you are 10 years old, a long-haired boy, an actor, a drummer, a daydreamer.

i had almost forgotten about these writings. reading them over again brought back floods of good memories, despite how hard things were at times.

i want to come back to you here, but everything will be different. you are different. i am different. the world is different.

or maybe it's not so different after all.

dad was out working tonight and you came into my office shortly after going to bed, saying, "i need you." your old bedtime mantra.

"what's going on?" i asked.

"i'm scared of dying."

"go back to bed and think about something else," i said. "i'll be in in a few minutes."

then i grilled myself, yet again, about whether my pragmatic response, which has become my norm, was more tough love or lack of compassion.

when i arrived bedside a little while later, i couldn't see anything in the dark. i reached out and found your foot. you laughed. i laid down next to you and you said, "i'm thinking about something else now." and you were fine. i kissed you and said all the usual bedtime stuff as i backed out of your room thinking maybe i'm not so heartless after all.

more than

2012-07-10T21:28:00.003-07:00

tonight at bedtime you were tired. a big day of camp under your belt. you were sweet talking me with baby talk. "you more than just my mom. you more. you my love." melt. hug.

our brains

2012-06-06T21:05:00.000-07:00

dear little bear,

today you said something like this to me as we were walking into the house after school: "i'm always thinking of a million ways to do things all at once." and I said: "i know what you mean. my brain works that way, too."

we have signed you up for catholic kindergarten. you seem to want to go there. i have doubts about the wisdom of it, but i like how much it has to offer academically. we shall see. i've been thinking about which school to send you to obsessively for the last nine months, and it's time to roll with our decision now. we can always reconsider in the spring. i love you to the sky and back, and to the sky again and back again, over and over and over forever.

dear one

2012-04-03T21:48:00.004-07:00

dear one,

you are five. sleeping in your big bed. you are a yellow belt now. you are starting kindergarten in the fall, and are worried about it.

i stopped writing because i stopped knowing what to say. perhaps i am just tired. i don't know where it came from before, back when i knew how.

your daddy is doing well. i don't know what to say to him anymore either.

i do know what to say to you in real life. i've enjoyed playing with you and reading you harry potter and taking you to the museum and making mystery boxes for you and tiny books and all the other wonderful things.

love is only everything.

xo

thank you for your service

2010-08-01T23:17:00.001-07:00

dear little big boy,

tonight you broke my heart. when you and i got back from m's poetry reading at l's house, you discovered that daddy wasn't going to be home before bedtime and you started to cry. "i miss my daddy!" you said. "i miss my daddy!" i hugged you and reminded you that you had time with him today and would see him in the morning, but you became more upset and shouted tearfully, "my daddy's the helpfulest daddy and the funniest daddy and the nicest daddy of all the daddies and i miss him!" i was trying to make us some dinner. it was late, approaching bedtime, and we hadn't eaten a proper meal--just snacks (you had 3 twizzlers, a chocolate covered strawberry and some crackers). you had been asking me to snuggle with you on the couch, which i said i would do as soon as the pizza was out of the oven. so while our pizza overbrowned, we called daddy and left a message on his voice mail asking him to call if he could between sets.

we sat down on the couch and i said, "i'd really like some strawberries. how bout you"? you said, "me too," and so we got our strawberries and overbrowned pizza from the kitchen and went back to the couch to distract ourselves with a disney movie for a few minutes until bedtime. daddy called and you became tearful again. "i didn't know you wouldn't be home until late!" you accused, "and i miss you!"

the disney movie turned out to be "the wild", and the part we saw was about a lion cub that got into some trouble. his dad went after him to save him. we watched just a few minutes and went up to your room to get ready for bed. on the way upstairs you told me, "i feel like my daddy is lost." you said it a couple of times. i asked you when you started to feel that way and you said today. "i don't know why i started to feel like daddy is lost," you said. but you also said the song at the end of kung fu panda made you sad--and you'd watched that movie with daddy in the afternoon.

i was pretty sure i knew what you meant about daddy being lost. i think you were feeling that your daddy is going to die, and that it's not fair because you love him so much. i'm not sure if you were thinking "die", but do i believe you were thinking that you would be separated from him forever. what i told you is that daddy drove over the bridge to san francisco, to a building with a club in it, and there he would play some songs along with some other singer-songwriters. at the end of the night, i said, he would get back into his car and drive back over the bridge to our house and sleep in his own bed. but before going to sleep in his bed, he would come into your room to give you a kiss and tell you that he loves you.

this seemed to make you feel better. i then told you that i do the same thing every night before bed. that i come into your room and kiss you and tell you that i love you. and if your blanket needs straightening i do that, too. i said, "daddy and i both do this every night because we love you so much." and you said, "and i don't even wake up!"

i laid down next to you to help you get to sleep. i thought it might take a while. and as you laid down next to me you threw your arm around me and said, "thank you for your service." i laughed and you laughed, and by the time i left your room you were sleeping quietly in your big bed, ready tomorrow for your first official day of "pre-k".

i want you to know that i am rooting for you and for daddy and for me, my sweet one. i am rooting for us all.

revelations

2010-07-14T21:31:00.000-07:00

you: when i first came to live at your house i thought it would always be daytime.

me: you remember coming home the first time?

you: [nod and smile]

someday a grownup

2010-01-31T22:47:00.001-08:00

dear love boy,

somehow, daddy is still going strong and seems to be very healthy. he finished his latest course of chemo in september--folfiri with avastin--and had one clean scan during chemo and one after. i'm sure he's due for another scan soon, and if i were the praying type i would be praying hard for more good news.

nana, on the other hand, is dying. last year, before our summer visit, she completed chemotherapy for lymphoma. she looked fantastic when we saw her, and you loved visiting with nana and playing in her "little room" in the basement, and you've asked to go back. now it appears that we'll be going back to pay a most-likely-last visit in the very near future.

a couple of months ago nana went for a pre-op appointment for some kind of orthopedic surgery and the doctors found a valve problem in her heart. the operation to fix the valve is risky, and at nana's age there was some disagreement in the family about whether it was a good idea for her to have it. then nana learned that the lymphoma is back, and decided not to take any more treatment for it. auntie m told t that nana has 6 months to 1 year; auntie e told k that she has 1-1.5 years. t told me she believes auntie m, thinking that autie e tends toward over-optimism, so i told daddy last night that we have to go see nana, soon. i want her to be feeling well enough for the two of you to be able to enjoy your visit together. it makes me sad to think that you might not remember her, just as i don't remember papa.

the concept of death won't be new to you. on thanksgiving, we talked about it for the first time. you brought home an art project from school--a turkey--and i said, "hey, why don't we put this in an envelope, put grandma b's address on it, and mail it to her?" to which you replied, "no, grandma s." my grandma, who died before you were born. you seem to have a thing about grandma s., and i don't know why. i haven't talked about her to you much at all--the only thing i can think of is that we have all those pictures of her as a little girl hanging along the staircase. but even when you were very, very little, you asked about her so often that i thought you might be her, reincarnated. once i asked you, "are you grandma s.?" and you said, "no, i'm just l." or course i felt silly, but there was a part of me that felt you had been coached in some way to give that answer...

anyway, i kept trying to steer your focus away from grandma s. and back to grandma b. but you became annoyed and said, "NO. GRANDMA S!" and so i told you that we couldn't write grandma s.' address on it because she doesn't have an address anymore. "why?" "because she died." and then i told you. "when somebody gets very, very old, their body stops working and they die. after that we don't get to see them anymore." "their body stops working?" "yes." "why?" "that's just how it works."

you didn't say anything else about dying that day, but the next day you said a few things were dead--just testing, or for shock value--and you asked if one of your school friends who stopped going to your school was dead. "because you don't see him anymore?" "yes." "no, he's just staying home with his daddy instead."

then yesterday, out of the blue, grandma b. had just called and you asked if it was grandma s. "no, it's grandma b." "grandma s. died?" "yes." "why?" "because when people get very, very old, their body stops working and they die." "are you going to die?" "yes, someday." "am i going to die?" "yes, but not for a long, long, long time. you have your whole life to live." "is daddy going to die?" "yes." "even m. and j.?" (your school friends.) you looked a little bit worried, so i tried to reassure you. "when you are very, very old, you will have had a full life and you will be tired. you will be ready, then." and i hoped that everything i said would turn out to be true. i hope you will live a long time and feel satisfied when it comes time to say goodbye.

i wish i could give you a sibling. i think you'd like a sister. daddy and i argued about it recently. i would jump over any obstacle i can think of if he were in it together with me, but he is not. you overheard us, and later you gave me your doll and said, "here, mommy, you can have this new baby."

tonight at bedtime, you told me that your bed is too small. "i wish it was as comfortable as your bed. i wish my bed had two places. then i'd have room for a girl." this was, of course, just after storytime. we'd read mrs. picasso's polliwog, and i read the note to you inscribed by my friend george, the author. he wrote that he hoped one day i'd be able to read the book to a little girl or boy of my own. you said, "but we don't have a girl." "no," i said,"but we do have a wonderful little boy to read it to." "maybe someday i'll read it to my little girl," you answered. "because someday i'm going to be a grownup." "yes." "and i'll be able to use the oven." "yes." "when i'm grown up we can all use the oven together." "that sounds like fun." "and one day the little girl will grow up and she'll be able to use the oven, too." "yes, she will."

i want this for you, my sweet thing. i hope you get your little girl. and i hope she grows all the way up for you and that the two of you cook things together in your oven--that you will still be living in that nice, sweet, storybook world.

conversations

2009-08-14T23:44:00.000-07:00

dear lovey bear,

a few days ago you told me you wanted to put me in the trash. it was in the morning before school and work. you said it with a smile on your face, but you were a little upset with me about putting you to bed without a story the night before and this was your way of letting me know.

a conversation we had tonight...
you: i want to go to the moon.
me: what will you do when you get there?
you: turn on my lights and engines.
you meant in your spaceship.

hello oedipus!

2009-08-06T22:50:00.000-07:00

dear love boy,

tonight i heard this conversation from the computer room:

you: that's his girlfriend.
dad: do you have a girlfriend?
you: yeah.
dad: really? who's your girlfriend?
you: mommy.
dad: uh-uh. mommy is MY girlfriend.
you: oh.

just so you know, i love being your girlfriend. and i love being daddy's, too.

no dogs

2009-08-01T22:18:00.000-07:00

dear sweet boy,

a few nights ago we read harry the dirty dog before bedtime. on the page with the picture of people eating in a cafe, you asked me what the sign on the window said. "no dogs," i read.

tonight we read the book again. on the page with the cafe picture, you pointed to the sign and said, "that says, 'dogs cannot come in here.'"

"right, it says, 'no dogs,'" i said.

"but he can go in there," you said, pointing to harry. it was one of those statements that is more like a question.

"no. they won't let him go in because he is a dog."

you frowned. "but he's hungry."

the book had, indeed, just told us that.

"yes."

you frowned some more.

"dogs cannot go in there," you said.

i felt you coming up against the world around you, pressing your face against the glass and not approving.

this is so clear to you: when someone is hungry, shouldn't we let him come and eat, even if he is a dog?

surprises and sweetness

2008-11-19T21:01:00.000-08:00

dear bumble boo,

tonight in your bath you asked me to put some shampoo on your hand. nothing unusual about that, we do it all the time. shampoo on your hand and then you help wash yourself. except tonight instead of washing yourself you popped the glob of shampoo right into you mouth. of course, i went right after it with my finger to get as much out as possible before you swallowed, and you screamed, as much from the terror of my quick reflex as the unexpected bad taste of the shampoo. i was (and still am) so surprised, because you very rarely do things like that, and i now have to reassess some of the assumptions i've made about what type of supervision you need both in the bath and out.

you, my dear, are very funny. the other day you were talking to our cat. and then in a short, brief monologue, as if you were a talk show host introducing a guest to your studio audience you rattled off theatrically, "he likes milk, he likes salmon, he likes yogurt..."

you are so enamored of the cats, especially the little one who will sit with you at breakfast and dinner (because he knows you will feed him treats), and who lets you rest your head on him while he sleeps. you used to offer them your books to read, but now you prefer to share your meals, and show them the consideration that others show to you, such as breaking a bagel into little bites before you offer them. "here, kitty, little pieces!"

your guitar playing is really coming along, as are your rock star moves. you seem to be rehearsing for a future on stage, possibly fronting a band. from what i can tell, you will be very good at it and extremely entertaining. keep working on that strumming--i've seen a lot of improvement lately with your ability to sustain your strumming while singing a song (such as five little monkeys).

there is so much sweetness in you right now. i don't know if it's your age or just who you are. tonight when i buckled you into your car seat after our trip to Lucky and Longs, you grabbed me around the neck and pulled me in for the most delightful kisses and giggles. delicate, butterfly kisses, buoyantly delivered.

a quick catchup

2008-08-18T22:19:00.001-07:00

dear sweet thing,

about 3 weeks ago you played your first song on guitar. strumming and singing teddy bear teddy bear.

about 10 days ago, you tattled for the first time. i asked who bit you. you said jack. then you said your teacher's name, and "i'm sorry." at school the next day, your teachers confirmed that the biter was indeed jack.

on saturday, you me and daddy were lying on the bed in our chicago hotel room. you started singing the alphabet. you sang us the whole thing (except xyz, because you love w so much you like to just say that one again and again). we were surprised. knew you knew a lot of it, but not the whole song!

today--you are repeating everything. sentences.

yesterday at the aquarium you pointed out a helicopter to ellie and told her helicopter. she couldn't believe you knew that word.

mostly, though. you are the sweetest boy. i love your kisses. your little pucker and kiss is the best.

2008-07-05T13:44:00.000-07:00

dear charlie brown,

you are growing up to be a little boy with a mind of your own. this is no surprise. you have many opinions, and want to do things yourself, or at least dictate how they should be done. here are some of the latest things about you...

you love swings. whenever we leave the house, you immediately head in the direction of the park. you like to try every swing available, switching back and forth between them at least once, and often more.
you can climb up the play structure at the park and go down the slide by yourself with just a little supervision.
books, books, books. you are crazy in love with them.
this past week you have started to hug me alot. you just come up and press against me and hug my knees. you have also started kissing my cheek, not just blowing kisses anymore.
it's pretty much impossible for you to eat without getting so dirty that we have to change your clothes. even with a bib, and even with a towel on your lap.
a month ago you were obsessed with elmo. you have gotten over elmo and are now obsessed with ernie. and sometimes with cookie monster.
you love apple juice and cookies (we only give you fruit juice sweetened fig bars, and even those are reserved as treats)
last week at school you told your teachers, "i want to go outside". they were a bit shocked to hear you make such a clear and complete declaration.
you want very much to be able to put on your own shoes and socks. you try often, but it's just too soon.
the cats now participate in our bedtime ritual. you like having them in the room during storytime, and then when it's time to sleep you like them to leave.
when the cats meow outside your door in the morning, you imitate them. i hear you through the baby monitor--you are not saying "meow" like you do when we read books, but instead you are trying to make the exact sound the cat is making, just as you do with the crows when we see them. you imitate and you say, "kitty cat".
your favorite song is old macdonald. we have it on cd, by ella fitzgerald. you want to hear it every time we get in the car, often more than once. at night, you ask me to sing it to you as a lullaby. i remember when you were very little and i sang to you, that was the first song i could tell you really liked.

balloon

2008-05-31T21:01:00.000-07:00

dear bunky,

this morning we went shopping at trader joe's, first thing. one of the employees gave a balloon to the little girl next to us, but not to you--so i went to the customer service desk after we checked out and asked for yours.

"what color?"

"yellow"

i had to tell you to look--you didn't know to watch the man inflate it for you. when you saw the balloon expanding with helium, your eyes and mouth opened wide. a full body smile. you accepted your first helium balloon with joyous awe, as if you could not believe you were receiving something so wonderful.

after seeing many pictures of balloons in books, seeing them at the supermarket, at Walgreen's, after pointing them out to me always, here was a balloon for you, at last.

all day you have played with your balloon. running around the house yelling "a-loo! a-loo!", balloon in tow, pulling the balloon down toward you, letting it go, batting it with your hand, teasing the cat with it, panicking when it drifted out of sight...

when i brought daddy home from the hospital in the afternoon (he'd been there for 4 days recovering from a minor operation, his ostomy takedown, which was a cakewalk for him after everything he's been through), you were quick to show him your wonderful treasure.

you had missed him, that daddy of yours, missed him with all your might. you were brave and persevered in his absence, and when he came home, you held out your very best offering. "a-loo!"

recent conversations

2008-05-21T22:49:00.000-07:00

last week

me: how about some breakfast?
you: not today.

sunday

me: i like your cute tummy.
you: thank you.

a period of rest

2008-05-09T22:53:00.000-07:00

dear monkey puzzle,

i have a picture of you on my cell phone. you are wearing your red baseball hat and green jacket and you look awfully grown up. i look at that picture of you throughout the day when we're apart and i feel connected to you.

daddy finished with his chemo last week. at least, we are pretty sure he is done--when his oncologist comes back from vacation we'll know for sure. daddy has another ct scan scheduled for monday, so next week will tell us a lot about what we might expect over the next few months: more treatment or a period of rest? based on daddy's last scan, we are both expecting another clean scan and a few months off, a period of semi-normalcy. you will be happy when daddy feels well enough every morning to get out of bed early and play with you while i brush my teeth and get dressed for work.

you continue to learn many new words each day. i was keeping a list until it became too difficult to keep up. at last count you had over 75 words. by now you have well over 100, i would guess.

you have also started combining words. you did this once a couple of months ago when i left you at daycare. "bye mommy" you said, and surprised your teachers. but you hadn't done it again until recently, when one morning when daddy did not get up to see you you said, "daddy tired." then you saw the cat sleeping and you said "kitty tired". you've had a number of other combinations since then, with "yellow turtle" being my favorite. you are also repeating multisyllabic words and multi word phrases like crazy. and you seem to understand just about everything i say.

you've also started to have some tantrums, and they're really no fun at all. you're usually so much fun and so easy to be around (active and exhausting, yes, but not difficult) that it's a shock when we're suddenly on opposite sides. most of the tantrums seem to happen when you are tired and you want to do something for yourself that i can't let you do (play with the latch on the safety gate on the stairs, for example). as you seek more independence, we will probably see more of these unwelcome flare-ups. one thing about you is that you are dramatic and expressive, and have been since the day you took your first breath.

i had hoped with these letters to write more often and to paint a clearer picture of your early life. but as daddy gets better, i am getting more and more burned out and i don't have the energy to think very well anymore. i use up my mental energy at work, and at home i do my long list of chores at night and finally collapse into bed.

i do give you lot of love when we're together. and you are very attached to me, so i must be doing a few things right. if i am unable to tell you your story in the detail i had intended, i hope you will understand.

i lu lu

2008-04-15T21:36:00.000-07:00

dear monkey,

it's been a long time...

you have become very confident on your feet, and you are taking on new challenges such as climbing the stairs and climbing onto and off of chairs. you have happy to go up and down the front porch steps over and over again. working on mastery. now you are interested in the big staircase, and you also want to open and close and lock the safety gate at the bottom of the stairs all by yourself.

we are having some struggles with these wants of yours. your fascination with the safety gate is dangerous, but when i try to divert your attention and scoop you up the stairs you squirm and howl over the injustice of it. i know how you see it. you are growing up and you can do lots of the same things that we can. you have been watching us and you know how things work. now you want to try it for yourself. you are ready to get going. but you don't have the balance yet, the coordination, the judgment to know when you are headed for trouble. so now we are sometimes adversaries. very often, actually, and although it is typical and expected, it still makes me sad.

that said, have you ever loved me more? you want me all the time. you do not go as easily to your daycare teachers anymore. instead you keep coming back to me, knowing that any minute i will say goodbye and disappear out the door. when daddy holds you, you often reach out for me to take you instead.

you are a talker. i mean, a serious talker. here are some of the words you can say:

mama
dada
kitty cat
banana
apple
ball
yellow
flower
book
bird
shoes
jacket
blanket
stairs
star
moon
blue
poo poo
purple
yum
cracker
cheese
pizza
water
bottle
bubble
popper
bear
tiger
elephant
outside
backyard
hi
moo
baa
neigh
baby
quack
gobble
night night
bye
name
rock
light
yogurt
eye
elmo
door
turtle

you can also say the cats' names and the names of some of your classmates at school. and i'm pretty sure you also say "i love you," but it comes out more like "i lu lu" and sometimes the context makes it hard to tell.

last month i had a parent conference at your school. the director told me that you are doing well across the board, but that you are exceptional in your social skills--good at staying out of struggles and disagreements with your peers, and very willing to share with others. she said that your teachers just smile when they hear your name, because you are so good natured. she also said that you are very compassionate in the way you relate to the other children. she said she has never seen anyone your age act so compassionately in all her years of working with children, and that it brings tears to her eyes.

you bring a smile to my face too, monkey moo. i lu lu.

fever, mr. clean, and 12 other things

2008-03-08T22:18:00.000-08:00

dear rumplehead,

you are asleep in your crib, finally at rest after battling all afternoon with fever. you roasted and parched with heat and when the tylenol didn't work i consoled you as best i could until it was time to try again--with motrin.

about life. other people seem to make progress, but for the past couple of years i have only been moving in reverse, so i took this last week off from work to catch up. (my sudden vacation was triggered by me almost burning the house down a couple of weeks ago while you slept in your crib. it was nearly midnight and i was multitasking so i could get some sleep. i put something on the stove and left the kitchen for minute, completely forgot about the stove stuff and 40 minutes later, "what's that burning?" i ran to the kitchen to find 2 foot flames licking out of the pan, managed to get the fire out while wondering why the smoke alarms--batteries still good--did not alert me. still haven't figured this part out. scared the bubblegum out of me and i realized i HAD to find a way to get some control of things.) anyway, my to-do list for my week off was much too long and i knew i would not get to everything, but i did my best.

things i accomplished:

-removing everything from the shed and installing shelving
-putting most everything back in the shed, in a more organized fashion
-cleaning a bunch of unused junk out of the kitchen cupboards
-organizing the two kitchen "junk drawers" (w/bamboo organizing inserts from bed, bath, and beyond) and learning they are not full of junk after all
-cleaning off the top of the desk (look at all those crumbs and dust bunnies!)
-cleaning out the desk drawers (more bamboo organizers) and finding the title to the purple car that i've been wanting to sell for more than a year
-taking out the trash and recycling
-grocery shopping
-getting some non-toxic nuby sippy cups for you
-taking daddy lunch at the hospital on chemo day
-taking 6 months of mail and other personally identifying whatnot to the paper shredding place where you drive in and they shred it while you watch

still on my list:

-sleep (since it's almost 11:00 on sunday night, i'm running out of time on this most important of tasks)
-get rid of all the shed stuff that didn't go back in and is just sitting around our yard for our neighbors' viewing pleasure from their upstairs windows
-get the cleaning people in for a thorough cleaning (especially the 4x vomited-on floors)
-call scott about carpeting the stairs to lessen the chance that if you accidentally fall down them you will die or be seriously injured
-call blue cross to see if the outstanding claims for $10,000 from the hospital have been resolved
-call the hospital to be sure they are providing blue cross with the needed information (blue cross said they had asked and asked but not received)
-find that other bill for $2000 from ?? and figure out why we have to pay that much
-find that several month old bill for $250 that i paid (even though i didn't think i should) and triple check with blue cross
-double check that your dad qualifies for social security disability and figure out how to apply
-fax in the medical and dependent care account claims so we don't lose that money
-find 5 or so slow cooker recipes to make during the week so we can eat well and at a reasonable hour, enabling me to go to bed earlier and not be so sleep deprived
-make a shopping list from those recipes
-make a chart of the dates my monthly bills are due so i won't continue to forget one or more bills a month
-call at&t and be sure they got my payment sent wednesday and won't disconnect my service like they threatened to in that mailing they sent me, and in the automated phone call they sicked on me on friday
-find out from the credit union why my at&t bill stopped coming through my bill pay account three months ago
-take the car in to get the window fixed, finally, so it will close
-make an appointment for a mammogram
-clean all the clothes out of my dresser that i don't wear or that look awful on me
-get a few new things to wear that don't have to be ironed all the time
-find an appropriate place for a downstairs smoke alarm and get it installed
-weed the yard before the mammoth interlopers squeeze the life out of every other living thing
-tell you about everything you are doing: walking very well; talking the ear off of anyone who'll listen; saying "no" or shaking your head no; reading and reading and reading (can't get enough of the books!); taking the same book first to one parent and then to the other to get a different interpretation; rolling/bouncing/throwing various balls (your favorite); pointing out balls in books, in other people's yards, etc.; napping well and sleeping well at night (when you're not sick); trying to feed the cat little pieces of whatever you're eating; telling me about the bird you hear outside; imitating me when i say "caw, caw"; trying to imitate me when i say "cock-a-doodle-doo"...
-and about 12 other things i can't think of right now

but here's some good news: daddy had a ct scan this week and it's clear. no evidence of growth. this is 5 months out from his surgery, and halfway through his chemo. something seems to be working. we are not celebratory. there's too much uncertainty for that. but truly truly truly, we are grateful.

rivers and tides

2008-01-21T21:05:00.000-08:00

dear pumpky,

where do i even begin? how about with practical matters:

1) you've had a birthday! you're one!
2) you got very sick on your birthday. you were miserable for days and we had to cancel your party. when monday rolled around and the doctor was finally open, i learned that you had bronchiolitis and an ear infection. you had a 10-minute mist treatment with albuterol in the doctor's office (for wheezing, which i couldn't hear with my bare ears, but the np heard with her stethoscope), and got a prescription for an inhaler and antibiotics.
3) you are feeling just fine now and i'm really, really glad.
4) although you've been cruising around holding onto the furniture for months, and taking a step or two on your own for a few weeks, as of yesterday you are officially walking
5) you've been talking up a storm. some of your more recent words: bird, dirty, diaper, uh-oh, star, night-night, piggy, gobble, book, yeah
6) you've gotten to be pretty good at getting food in your own mouth with a spoon, and you have fun with it if you're not in a big hurry.
7) i love you.

and now on to philosophical matters:

daddy and i watched a documentary last night called rivers and tides, about the scottish artist andy goldsworthy. i ordered it from netflix, and when daddy heard what it was he teased me about ordering a "physics lecture." he said i would fall asleep in the first five minutes of watching it. so i wish you could have heard all of the "wow"s out of dad's mouth as we watched the movie.

i have seen pictures of goldsworthy's work before and i always liked it. but it is completely different to see it alive, in motion. a chain of leaves snaking through a stream, a stack of rocks drowned by high tide and then re-emerging as the tide recedes, a line of sheep's wool capping a long rock wall, the wool, in sunlight, a brilliant illuminated line curving up and down and around the line of stones at the top of the wall.

today i keep thinking about this artist's pieces, and the look on his face as he worked, and how sometimes when he was almost done with a piece the whole thing would come apart and he'd have to start over. that happened a few times, and it became clear that that is just part of the nature of his work.

i hope you will watch this documentary one day and listen to this man talk. then you will know something about what it is to be wise. i don't know if he is wise about other things besides the art he makes, but when he talks about art and about making things, he is deeply invested in what he is saying, consumed with undersanding how the elements of his work affect and are affected by their surroundings--wind, water, light, etc.--and time. listening to him talk, i learned something about what it means to look, to pay attention, to understand, to be.

walking and talking

2007-12-28T22:47:00.000-08:00

dear little sprout,

i am having so much fun with you this week. besides all of the fun outings we've had--to the grocery store, the bank, the park, the beach, luma's house (once for his birthday party and once for a playdate)--just being home with you has been great, too.

you have been very sweet to choose this week to get really interested in walking. we've been walking all over the house together, and i think you just need a little bit of confidence to do it all on your own. sometimes you can walk halfway across the room very steadily, just holding one of my hands. i keep thinking that maybe tomorrow will be your big day, but you are taking your time. and that's just fine.

you're in the middle of a little language explosion. a few nights ago you said "night night" when i was putting you down to sleep. then next morning you fell down and said "uh-oh." later that day when i was changing your diaper you said "star". i didn't see which star you were talking about, so i said, "little bear, did you say star?" you said "yeah." then i noticed that the toy you were holding in your hand was a star.

so you are really communicating with me now. i like it.

luma's 1st birthday

2007-12-22T21:26:00.000-08:00

dear baby bear,

today we went to luma's 1st birthday party. you brought him a dinosaur puzzle and he really liked it. i think it was his favorite toy.

everyone at the party thought you were very cute. and m. also said you are loud, which is true. you are loud. always hollering and banging, but with the best of intentions.

you were the most mobile of the four babies there, and just generally the most active. one of the babies your age stayed on his parents' laps for most of the party without complaining. like you would ever do that for more than 10 minutes. ha!

the more i get to know other babies, the more i realize how engaged you are with the world around you. eager to figure things out and get going. the worst thing i can possibly do is to help you when you are trying to do something for yourself. i am learning to intervene only when i think it's a safety issue, like when you put that huge piece of bread in your mouth today and i pulled it out to tear it in half because the crust was so hard i thought you might choke. you got mad, mad, mad--you pushed and pushed on me trying to get away, rejecting every offer i made to give you the bread back. until i distracted you by turning you around to watch the gift opening. then i slipped you some more bread and let you take your chances.

it's nice to see daddy feeling so much better. this week he went to his studio almost every day to do some recording. i admit i sometimes wish he were doing more to lift the burden off of me rather than holing up in his studio, but i know how much this recording means to him. and it's important to me, too. so i keep my trap shut and plod along and remind myself every day how lucky i am.

the momentum of love

2007-12-12T22:11:00.000-08:00

dear snuggles,

i want you to know that i write you letters in my head all the time. while i'm cooking, cleaning the kitchen, filling your bottles and packing your food for daycare, brushing my teeth. but it's hard to find the time to sit at the computer long enough to get it down for you to read one day.

daddy started chemo yesterday. i went with him, just for the first time to see how it will be for him. we were at the hospital for seven hours in a small, drab room with no windows and an overly chatty woman in the 2nd chemo chair nosing into our business. daddy is doing okay so far with the folfiri. he only had a half dose of the irinotecan this time--the oncologist is starting cautiously and will increase it each time until he finds the limit of daddy's tolerance for the drug.

you are happy as ever. your favorite foods right now are hard boiled egg yolk, sweet potato (chunks of home cooked), banana chunks, and plain yogurt. you love feeding yourself, and now that you have mastered putting food in your mouth, you have started to put other things in your mouth, too. last week you found a small mystery object on the living room floor and popped it in before i could intervene. i stuck my finger in your mouth to get it out, but came out with nothing. you didn't choke, so the identity of the particle you ate will remain one of life's mysteries. today i had to fish two things out of your mouth: soggy paper from a magazine ad (you tore out the page while playing) and some orange peel (daddy gave it to you to hold, but you decided to eat it). so we're at that stage now. i hope we both live through it.

i have been thinking a lot about what kind of mom i want to be for you. what thoughts and behaviors do i want to model for you as you're growing up? what ways of seeing the world could i help you adopt that would be beneficial to you in your life? how can i help you see yourself as a strong person, a helper, a contributor, a speaker of truth, an upstanding human being?

i don't have a word for my religious beliefs. other people might call me an atheist, but that doesn't feel right and i don't use it as a label for myself. agnostic is wrong, too. i can tell you that i don't believe in "personal" god that thinks like we do and plays us like puppets. what i do believe is that the laws of nature are the ultimate truth. physics, biology, chemistry, mathematics, compassion, empathy, love. i am telling you this because it occurred to me this week as i was standing at the stove that the idea of god that so many people have, a god that listens to and answers the prayers of human beings, though farfetched in my opinion, is no more farfetched than the idea of you being born from nothing but will, biology, and luck. no more farfetched than the experiential arc of a single human life, the bewilderment of existence, the purposelessness of it, the joy of it, the suffering that sits on the sidelines for some and for others dominates the game from the very beginning.

i still don't believe in a personal god.

i do believe in getting up every day and doing the best i can.

i believe in the thrill of small beauty.

in the growth potential of hardship.

and most of all, in the momentum of love.

friendly faces

2007-11-30T22:21:00.000-08:00

dear little muffin,

yesterday morning when i dropped you at daycare, you saw a little girl getting out of another car and you waved at her and very brightly said "hi!". that's something i really like about you: you have always been a friendly guy.

today, i stopped at the grocery store on my way to pick you up and felt myself surrounded by friendly faces. everywhere i looked i saw people who looked like potential friends--kind, fun, and funny souls. i don't feel like that very often, but when i do it's a great feeling, like the world is an open, safe place, rich and welcoming. i hope you will see the world that way as you get older. good things just waiting to happen.

you are changing constantly, transforming right before my eyes.

you now have the beginnings of two teeth. one is about half arrived, and it's neighbor has shown up fashionably late and is just sticking it's foot through the door.

you can stand by yourself now, entirely unsupported, for a surprising number of seconds before you teeter and drop onto your cushiony bottom. but only when you feel like it; never on demand.

you are very chatty. you have mastered mama, dada, nana, baba, and are now working on your g's. gaga and goo goo, etc. you can say ball ("ba"), you try to say diaper ("di"), and one day even tried to repeat after me when i said tylenol ("ty-o"). you say kitty ("ditty"). you say hi. you say yeah. and i'm pretty sure you've started shaking your head no and nodding yes, and that those motions in response to questions are not just coincidence.

you continue to be a wet and sloppy kisser, and when you kiss (sweetly suck/slobber on) my chin (always giggling) you seem to enjoy exercising your new teeth.

so much has happened since i last wrote. it's too much to begin to tell.

yesterday daddy had a liter of fluid drained from around his right lung. he seems to feel better now that he has more breathing room. he said the fluid looked like iced tea, and i'm glad i no longer drink iced tea or i'd probably just have had that pleasure permanently spoiled. we are waiting for the lab report now to find out if the fluid shows signs of infection or cancer.

it has been a long and difficult month for daddy and me. daddy rests when he's tired, but i've discovered a new kind of fatigue, a kind of tiredness that sees no end in sight. the words "no rest for the weary" often come to mind as i go about my days.

even still, i feel a remarkable amount of friendliness in the world much of the time. it leaves me hopeful. and i hope that hopefulness is something i can impart to you. or better, i hope your hopefulness comes from within, like a bubbling spring, requiring no effort from you, for all of your days.