Spring is kind of a tease in Seattle.  It will get all warm and wonderful for three days, I eagerly pull out the flip flops & the short-sleeved shirts, sunscreen & sunglasses and we start planning beach days and dreaming about summer camping trips.   And then, poof!  Just like that it’s gone.  More rain, more clouds and more 50-degree-days.  And round and round it goes until May, June, July.  But the days are so gloriously long already and they are only getting longer, the cherry blossoms have bloomed (Seattle’s crowning glory in springtime), and we are on our way.

We’ll take what we can get.

The famous cherry blossoms.  These ones at the Washington Park Arboretum near UW.

We’re all smiling – it’s a springtime miracle.  Half my head is gone but we won’t sweat the details.

Jason pretending to be Sleeping Beauty.

The view from the kitchen. I really like how the setting sun hits those trees beyond the pond.  Such light and color in the evening.

And when it’s clear, we can even sneak a peak of the downtown skyline on the left.

Aaaaand, back indoors on a rainy day.

My folks left town on Monday so we’re back to folding our own laundry and acting like grown ups again.  Jason is heading to Portland for a conference next week so I need to get back on my game before he heads out as well.  For now, I’m off to enjoy the sunshine while we’ve got it. 

Dear Isaiah,

You are 3-years-old today.  Three years ago you left my body for this grand adventure we call Life.  And what an adventure it has already been!  I am so eager to see how you will walk through life in the years to come.  You, my boy who has always seemed so at ease in the world; so content being YOU…  with your adventurous spirit, your uncanny ability to read people’s emotions, your unbelievable negotiation skills, your joy at all things jogging and your easy affection, you are already well on your way, sweet boy.

But this, your birthday week, has been a heavy one. Tragic and terrifying and almost too much to take in.  A bombing at the Boston Marathon.  A massive explosion at a fertilizer plant in Texas.  Two people I know lost family members.   So much death and despair and sadness.

The reality, I know, is that this sort of thing happens all the time.  All over the world.  But when it gets close like this?   When it feels like it might just reach all the way out and actually touch me, it makes me so much more afraid.  And it makes me want to tighten my tenterhooks around you.  To pull you in and never let go.  But it’s your birthday today.  How can I celebrate your birth, your ever-onward-and-upward, with this fear that might suffocate me?  How can I cheer you on as you continue to walk forward in Life when all I want to do is pull you back in?

When I feel afraid like this, my sense of foreboding joy kicks into high gear.  Foreboding joy is another piece of vulnerability armor that Brene Brown writes about in her book, Daring Greatly.  It’s the inability to fully and deeply experience joy without a sense of foreboding attached.    It looks like this…

• You’re driving in your car with your kids, loving the way their voices sound as they sing along to the music, feeling the sun on your skin, looking at the gorgeous views all around you… and then you let your mind wander to what it might happen if you got into a terrible wreck.  Moment ruined.
• You just had a great conversation with your husband, you’re feeling connected and alive and happy about your relationship.  Then you flash forward to his funeral and try to come up with something to say for his eulogy.  Moment ruined.
• You are watching your kids sleep and you are overcome; absolutely flooded with love for them.  Instead of enjoying the moment in it’s fullness, you think about the kid you know who is dying of cancer.  And you start to imagine walking down that road yourself.  Moment ruined. 

You get the idea.  I do this sort of thing all the time, Isaiah.  It’s a piece of “vulnerability armor” because I do it in order to avoid feeling vulnerable.  When I watch you and your brother sleeping or enjoy a meaningful conversation with Papa… those are some of the very best moments in my life.  But they are scary, too.  They are scary because when I am happy, the possibility for profound sadness feels unbearable.   Because there is the possibility of a bomb.  Or an explosion or, or,…  And I mistakenly think that by rehearsing grief or tragedy, I will somehow make it easier on myself should one of those terrible outcomes actually came to pass.  But there is NO way to prepare myself for such grief.  There is nothing in the world that could prepare me for the complete annihilation that would be mine if I lost you.  All I’m doing is ruining the incredible moments that I DO have by allowing a sense of foreboding to enter into my joy.

Brown says that in order to lower our vulnerability armor, we need to walk toward the joy we feel rather than run from it.  We need to feel it in all it’s fullness, acknowledge that we are scared, and leave it at that.   Easier said than done.  I’m good at rehearsing eulogies and all sorts of grief and sadness.  And it has always felt safer to do it that way.  But now I know it’s not.  I’m no safer and I’m only missing out.  So for you, my wild and wonderful 3-year-old boy, and for me, I want to jump all the way in.  I want to to lean toward the joy instead of pulling back with the false pretense of protection.   And I hope that as you grow you will learn to jump in with me without fear.

This week, amidst all this sadness swirling about us, I feel SO happy when I gaze upon your sweet face.  I love you immensely.  I am so happy that you are alive.  I can’t believe that we belong to each other.  I’m also scared. The grief and fear is palpable and always will be, I suppose.  But you are and always will be one of the greatest joys of my life.   I can’t wait to jump into more and more joy with you as the years unfold.  Happy Birthday, Bup.

Love, Mama

In your new “jogging” outfit.

Birthday breakfast

Three!

This morning at church I noticed Gryffin looking up at me during the singing time.  I leaned over and asked, “do you want me to hold you?”  He nodded and said quietly into my ear “yeah, but I don’t have to stay long if it hurts your back.”    Forget my back.  Up he came and up he stayed for 2 whole songs.  In the world of a 4.5 year-old, that’s a long time, and today I LOVED singing time for the space and time it allowed me to hold my big boy.

I feel like time is running out when it comes to holding him that way.  The gig is almost up. With kids you never know when you’re going to do or see something for the last time.   You only know it in hindsight, in retrospect, when you suddenly realize that your kid isn’t, say, sucking his fingers anymore and you only just now noticed.  Or that your baby is pronouncing “three” as clear as day instead of “flea!”   When did that start, you wonder.   Or maybe that your kids have stopped singing to the dessert fairy and just ask for a brownie now like… well, like a regular person.

It’s not always sad.  I don’t think I’ll be bumming too hard when Isaiah misses his aim and pees all over the floor for the last time.  Or when Gryff stops wiping his nose on my shirt (every.single.day).   No big loss there.   But some things are harder to let go.   And holding my  boys with their heads resting on my shoulder ranks up there at the very top.

Me and Gryff, 2008

Isaiah’s yearly appointment with the allergist is coming up next month.  Here’s a timeline of the last 3 years…

• Immediately after birth (within an hour), he had eczema all over his body
• The eczema ebbed and flowed the whole first year.  He constantly scratched behind his ears and we would find him scratching his arms/legs/belly in his sleep.
• He also coughed constantly.   At every well child check, we’d ask the ped to check his lungs.  They were always clear.  But he coughed and coughed and coughed.
• A few weeks before his first birthday, we let him have some scrambled eggs at a restaurant.  He swelled a little around his lips and cheeks and I kept thinking he was choking on something, checking his mouth, and he seemed agitated.   Within an hour, he threw up, and then seemed perfectly fine.
• Given the history with the eczema and the reaction to the eggs, our ped sent us to an allergist.
• The allergist (April 2011) tested him for the most common food/indoor/outdoor allergies.  He was diagnosed with egg, peanut and tree nut allergies.  She also suspected he had some form of asthma.  We were given inhalers, ointment for the eczema, and schooled in the proper use of an epi-pen.
• Jason and I assumed that because we knew about these specific food allergies, that the eczema and the coughing would subside once we had entirely removed the peanuts/tree nuts/eggs from his diet.  Not so much.  The scratching and the itching continued.
• At his follow up with the allergist one year later (May 2012), we retested and he did not test positive for a tree nut allergy.  Score!  One down!  Still allergic to eggs and peanuts, though.  She gave me new ideas for treating his eczema and the chronic coughing; new ointments, new inhalers.
• September 2012 – I found him banging his head on the wall in his sleep.  Hard.  I’d heard him doing it for weeks but assumed he was kicking the wall with his foot.   He had goose-egg lumps on the back of his head, indicating that he’d likely been banging his head the whole time, not his feet.  This sent me on a crazy search to find the cause, as this was new behavior and my research led me to believe it was likely food-related.  We tracked it down (we THINK) to annatto.  Never heard of it?  We hadn’t either.  It’s a natural food coloring, derived from the seeds of the achiote tree, to make food yellow or orange.  It’s considered organic because it comes from a tree.  It’s in the cheddar cheese that Isaiah had recently started eating from Trader Joes and it’s in goldfish crackers (among many other things) which they serve at his preschool.  We took it out of his diet, the head banging stopped almost immediately and he hasn’t done it since.  His eczema also seemed to improve for a short time.

So here we are, gearing up for his yearly check up with the allergist.  He has recently (once at preschool this past February and once while we were in Santa Barbara) had some minor episodes, probably due to exposure to peanuts.  Both times he was with someone else so we can’t be sure.  But he ate something that might have had traces of peanuts and both times he broke out in hives on his belly and back, cried inconsolably and then threw up.  Then he was fine.  Kind of like that first exposure to eggs.  So who knows?  Maybe he’s got something new going on?  Maybe he was just exposed to peanuts?

I go back and forth.  Sometimes I worry a lot and frantically research online, trying to find new ideas to relieve all his itching, soothe his cough, and trouble-shoot all things allergy.  Then there are days when I think eh, he’s going to fine.  There are days when he refuses food and will only drink almond milk all day and the occasional piece of fruit.  But there are worse things in the world, right?

One thing that has improved lately is his cough.  At some point (I’m fuzzy on the date), we learned that he has reactive airways, which is a form of asthma.  He doesn’t wheeze when he’s exercising but when he gets sick, especially with something respiratory, his reactive airways act up BIG TIME.  He got a terrible flu this past January and ended up coughing so hard that he threw up several times and burst some blood vessels in his eyes.  Poor guy.  But that illness and all the calls to the doctor led us to carefully using a cough suppressant (not expectorant) at night and eliminating milk from his diet.  It has made ALL the difference.  It has been such a relief.  The cough suppressant, which you are typically told NOT to use for kids under 6, has been a total game changer for him.  We’re all sleeping better now that he isn’t coughing all the live long night and it’s been a big relief all around, to have something that actually works for once.

So I’m eager to see what happens at this year’s appointment.  I’m going to ask our doc if she suggests blood work.  Would it give us more detailed information?  Maybe there are other allergies that we don’t know about?   Can she test for annatto?   What does she think of the two recent episodes of throwing up and hives?  There seems to be so much guess work involved with allergies, so much that is unknown.

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Do you know anything about bloodwork versus histamine-response testing?  Ever heard of Nambudripad’s Allergy Elimination Technique?   There is even evidence out there that hookworms can rid you of allergies (did you hear that NPR story?)!   Who knew?
I’m aware that our allergy issues are relatively minor and we’ve been so fortunate to avoid ER visits and we’ve never even come close to using our epi-pen.   But I sure love this guy and I’d like him to feel his best.

It’s official, folks!  We made it to and from Santa Barbara without illness and without broken bones.  Third time really was a charm.

This trip was officially booked because of a wedding.  My college roommate and wonderful friend, Kristy, was tying the knot so we tacked on a few extra days to make it a “work trip” for Jason and a vacay for me and the boys.   Here’s a look back over the week in pictures…

Outside our hotel lobby, waving Jason off to work for the day.  That’s me thinking Oh man, what am I going to do all day with a 4-year-old and an almost 3-year-old?  No worries, I got this.

The view from the porch of our hotel room.  Not too shabby.

Here’s what I did with the boys all day, btw.  Hit the beach.  Hard.  After picking up some coffee.

And met up with old friends, Stacy and Sarah, and their kids, throughout the week.

Stacy and her oldest, Jane, who reminded me on SEVERAL occasions that she is almost four.

Sarah and her oldest, Charlie.

Sarah’s youngest, Max.  This is one mellow fellow.  I don’t think I heard him make a single peep the entire week.

Gryffin, Isaiah and Charlie playing outside our hotel room.



Gryff having a jump on Charlie’s trampoline.  He was REALLY excited about it.  I was really excited about that netting.

Isaiah… not so much into the bouncing yet.

Waiting for our breakfast Saturday morning.

Jason and the fellas found an old swiss army knife in the fountain, which we brought home, of course.  The boys call it their “magical treasure from Santa Barbara.”

The wedding was incredible and full of so many personal touches.  From the song that played while Kristy and her dad walked down the aisle, to the children’s book excerpt included in the ceremony, to Biff the dog walking down the aisle… we were so happy that we were there to celebrate with Kristy and Carlos.

A mariachi band led all of us down the street to the reception following the ceremony.

Kristy’s dad had EVERYBODY crying during the reception.

More beach time on Sunday morning.  

Followed by lunch downtown with some of my college girlfriends in town for the wedding (and Jesse… we let him crash our lunch).

And… yet more beach time on Monday.   This time I took along Greg & Kim‘s girls, who were so much fun.  And, I must admit, made my job considerably easier, since Macy & Phoebe (9 & 10) did things like fetching water and sand monster games in my stead while I looked on from my beach chair and chatted with my friends.
And we’ll close the post out with a shot of G and Z sawing logs on the fold-out couch in our hotel room.  ”Naps” got the air quotes on this trip and bed time was stretched on more than one occasion so this was a welcome sight indeed.  

Overall, a great trip.  I might even venture to call it “a raging success.”  Hooray!

Third time’s a charm, right?  RIGHT?  I sure hope so.  We’re back in Santa Barbara for our third visit in three years and I’ve got every finger crossed (not my toes, though… y’all remember how things go with my toes?) that this trip is…. what?  I was going to say “a raging success.”  But I think I’ll settle for “not too shabby.”  I was actually struck with some anxiety yesterday afternoon as I was packing our things, feeling like I was just waiting for the other shoe to fall.  Broken bones the first trip, nasty flu (well, for the boys and me) the second… why on earth did we decide to tempt the fates and come again?  But when I voiced my fear to Jason, he just scoffed (of course) and said “what, you think there is, like, some kind of hex over you?  Some weird voodoo thing with you and Santa Barbara?”  To which I answered, “ummmm, yeah!”  But it helped.   I went to book club (to discuss The Brothers K, btw — now one of my all-time favorite books– but more on that some other time) and by the time I got back I was feeling calm again.  Not confident.  But calm.  Come what may.  Santa Barbara, Schmanta Barbara.

This morning the boys were excited, everyone was healthy, my toes unbroken.  And I’m happy to report that ALL of those things are still true, we are safely tucked in to our hotel room, and Jason and I are sipping tea while the boys saw some serious logs on the fold-out bed.

Getting here was not all fun and games, I’ll admit.  Jason forgot his license and let me tell ya, TSA was not amused.  We were still allowed through but not without the full-body-pat-down, bag searching, and copious checking of Jason’s wallet for his various other forms of identification.  It was a slog.  But we made it to our gate just in time to walk onto the plane (which, I’ll admit, is how we usually roll at the airport anyhow) and we breathed a big sigh of relief.

The flight… well, we’ll give the boys a C, C+ tops.   All of that quality time with our friends at TSA meant we didn’t have time take the boys to the bathroom before boarding. And so we had quite the desperate moment during take-off (read: when you can’t get out of your seat) when Isaiah was crying and carrying on, kicking the seat in front of him, because he had to pee.  Jason and I do not handle moments like this well.   We both panicked.  We almost had him pee into his own bottle before I remembered a spare diaper at the bottom of my backpack, which had been sitting there since Isaiah potty trained back in December.  Jason literally just shoved it down his pants and told Isaiah to “drop it in,” which he dutifully did.  Hallelujah it was only pee.  Sigh.  It didn’t start the flight well.  Gryffin rocked it, coloring and watching “Backyardigans” but Zeebo was difficult from start to finish.

I then managed to get into a big fight small dispute with the guy at the rental car agency and was still fuming over the final cost as we stepped outside.  But as soon as we felt that brilliant Santa Barbara-breezy-and-72-degrees weather, we both just shrugged as if to say “eh, what’s done is done.”    Since then, the boys have gone swimming twice here at the hotel (once with me, once with J after he finished working), we drove around our old neighborhood and got some amazing Mexican food from one of our old haunts.   Not too shabby for night one.  We’ll take it!

La Super Rica on Milpas

It’s good to be back!