How did you know?! Simon at 16 months

Hi Simon,

You're 16 months old today.

On Wednesday you started making more intentional, novel marks with your crayons... dots, curves, checks. Up until now you've pretty much made the mark that coincides with waving your arm back and forth. You seemed almost as excited as I felt by your work, and kept at it for long than usual too. We bought an "Aquadoodle" which uses a water marker on some fabric or other for temporary drawings. You enjoyed the heck out of it today.

As we visited Papa on the train today, you learned the words and signs for "Stop" and "Go" and we made a game of you telling me to stop as we walked from the train station. Downtown you pointed out one truck ("Tucka") after another. Later we took a bus, thus completing the Simon PeloJoaquin Travel Triumverate. You're not as insane as some little boys are about vehicles, but you are definitely impressed by how big and loud they are. You do not seem to have any interest yet in construction machinery, and you remain interested in local wildlife, pointing out birds and dogs as we walk, and smelling flowers when we see them (rarely, and indoors). 

You like the game of making animal noises when we read your books or play with toys. You make sounds for horses, dogs, chicks and chickens, ducks (WHAT a quack, you have, my little one. It is impressive.) elephants (although I think sometimes you think that the giraffe makes the elephant sound) Lions (surprising how many lions are in your wardrobe and library!) pigs and cows (a new development). You have two sets of magnetic toys, and have developed a rudimenary understanding of how magnetism works. You are delighted by these toys and work with them every day. Our favorite is when you roll a magnetic ball across the floor and then chase it with the stick, effortlessly connecting.

You are still CRAZY about the mozart music box that your Grandpa gave you for your birthday. You just began to figure out that you can play one instrument, or two, or the whole song and you'll switch it up in the middle as you listen, signing "Music". Today, you discovered that you can sit on the box and it will play. (We joke a lot and enjoyed this one together.) You ask to play guitar everyday. When you ask Papa, he plays for you and you dance or play along. When you ask me you mostly strum while I struggle to make chords (you don't notice my struggle). When we clap together you always clap with the beat. You hardly ever stick the pick into the soundhole. (You say "PickAH!" and "Gui-gui" for Guitar.)

Son, you are insane for baths. We are not one of those "nightly bath" families. There are usually a couple of baths a week. You say "Bah Bah" for Bath, and we've learned that we can not say or spell the word in front of you without you recognizing it. In fact, if we say it at dinner time we can just kiss the rest of the meal goodbye. You will carefully stack your dishes and clean your tray, periodically pointing toward the bathroom and calling out "BAH! BAH!" Today, I wanted to suggest a bath to your Papa, but wasn't sure because it was a little close to your bedtime. I said "I was thinking about..." and jerked my thumb subtly bathward over my shoulder. "Sure." Said your Papa. You started stacking... "BAH! BAH!" How did you know? We know that you are incredibly observant and that we say things that change your whole reality so you pay a lot of attention to us AND that you undertand far more than we think you do. But we are still dumbfounded. Bathtime it was, then.

We thought you should have a bath because you got your haircut today. People ask from time to time. We haven't been avoiding it on purpose (although I do take perverse pleasure when people call you "she" when you are wearing some SUPER butch lion driving a firetruck type hand-me-downs. I always think; "It's not THAT long!" It definitely just passed into the "Get this boy a headband" zone, actually IN your eyes, and Z and I agreed that it was time. I just happened to be walking by our salon, and they had their "Walk-ins Welcome" sign up, so in we went. We got a stylist who doesn't usually do my hair, but she did an admirable job, as did you.

You sat solemnly in my lap, peering into the mirror on the antique vanity in front of the chair. For most of the time you had a comb in each hand. You didn't complain much or show any fear. (A little anxiety, I think at all the noise and smells of the place.) Laura, a mom and the owner of the place shouted occasional coaching as we worked. That last snip of your bangs, Simon, I swear it took about 10 minutes. She'd have the hair all set in her hands and you'd look up to see what she was doing, or grab her comb, or turn around real quick. She was remarkably patient. They handed you a weird transparent purple bunny (?!) and we played the "Which hand is it in?" game a lot. We also played with your Valentine's balloon (We are such suckers for your love for balloons, I know. I think this is the first one since your birthday, though.) In the end, it's not short, just a little bit shorter, but my goodness how it changes the way you look.

The other thing that changes the way you look are the scabs on your face. You were standing behind our new nanny as she was fastening your nanny-buddy (?... We just started sharing a nanny with a baby 9 months younger than you.) into the stroller and when she turned round she knocked your sweet face into the pavement. It's healing quickly, and I was less freaked out than I thought I'd be. You are so happy to have a little friend at the house three days a week. You learned her name right away, and you kiss her and bring her toys.

We kiss you and bring you toys. We are so pleased with you, Simon. You are clever and thoughtful and SO funny and pleasant. You climb up all the stairs to our third floor apartment most days, saying "Puh, puh puh." (You say the word "Up" backward, I have theories about why, but it's stuck.) You are still very self-determined, and we try to support that while keeping you safe and everyone happy. You are a very thorough boundary tester, checking with a different hand, or a different colored spoon, or what have you to determine exactly what we mean when we say "No." which I hope means that you feel you can rely on us to be consistent. As you grown more interesting, it is awesome to watch your father grow into his role. He is so compassionate and intuitive and creative. At night he sets up "provocations" (what Reggio Emilia inspired teachers call collections of materials designed to invite you to think and play and work) for you to discover each morning and his instincts are excellent.

Thank you for today and every day.

-Mama

Ps: Pictures will be added to this later.

To Simon at Fourteen Months

Just look at you!

Simon makes mischief of one kind and another in his Tata-made bear suit.

Our boy is no stranger to dirt. Here he is at the end of a serious puddle-ducking session.

Simon makes a drum out of everything, but this was just BEGGING FOR IT.

Your Papa and I are two of the happiest grown-ups you'll ever meet. We're also tired and exhausted much of the time. We knew we'd be busy your first year, but then Papa's work really picked up, and we're all so busy trying to take care of one another. You would be very busy no matter what; signing, speaking, laughing, making friends, playing and listening to music, knocking things over, celebrating your mealtimes. But these days, Zak and I are very busy too. And happy.... and tired.

You are transported when you see them.
It finally happened. You noticed that there are trucks and trains in the world and that they are the most fascinating things around. They are like dinosaurs that have not yet gone extinct. (You haven't yet learned about dinosaurs, but that's fine. One at a time.) When we were playing in the rain and puddles the other evening before dinner, you watched a train go by, as we have many times. We play at a playground and often walk on a path that are very close to the tracks. But for the first time, you watched the train go and then frantically signed "More! More!" the way you do when we play "Trot, trot to Boston" or feed you blueberries. You have joined the league of toddlers in earnest now, Simon. We are very proud.

...and by cats I mean seals.

Your aunt Jordanna tells a story about a woman who called the UW biology department to tell a story of microwaving a bee and bringing it back to life. (I know, I know... ask her to tell it, it's much funnier.) The woman started off by saying something like "I was feeding my cats, and by my cats, I mean my chickens..." This joke will never stop being funny to your Papa and me.

Today you and I were visiting with the harbor seals at the aquarium when you signed "Cat" over and over the same way you do when you see a cat. Later, when we visited the fur seals, you signed "cat" for the females and "dog" for the (ENORMOUS) males. This was a sign of great affection, because you love cats and dogs, but also this wonderful insight into how you categorize and sort things in your mind. For instance, you also ask us to "work" the guitar rather than "play" it. I also love that ways that similar (to you) signs become the same. You use virtually the same sign for banana, bread, and egg. We've discussed that you used to use the same sign for dog, bird, water and full diaper, but things have changed. You have different signs now for dog (patting your chest, which is similar to patting your thigh, which is part of the "real" sign) and water (one finger to your lips, which is close to three fingers to your lips). You still sign bird that way (it's really close) and you now say "Poop-uh" when you think you might have a full diaper.

You've moved on from the duh-duh-duh's to the buh-buh-buh's. You love talking about bubbles, balls, books and baths (which to someone else would sound like the same baby talk but to us are clear words). You call both your Papa and me "Baba" at this point, although the P's are sometimes reappearing in Papa's name. You say things like "kitchen" "blueberry" ("boob") "balloon" ("BOON!") and mimic much of what we say.

Morning Madness

We are morning people. If it were up to you (and on mornings like this one, when I felt a little under the weather and wanted a cup of tea and breakfast right away it kind of is) you'd be playing and talking before you even got out of your sleep sack and pj's as soon as you were done with our first nurse of the day. Today, you grinned at me, then toddled over to the music box your Grandpa bought you and turned it on. After a little dancing, you were ready to play with magnets for 10 minutes or so. When you were tiny, our friends visited an we thought 4 year old Cayden would enjoy some Magneatos, a toy I bought used for you because they were available, and I love them and knew you'd enjoy them in your later toddlerhood. Ever since we got them out for Cayden, though, you've been playing with them and by now you have a pretty good intuitive sense of magnetism...which makes you a genius.

In the morning we laugh, talk about our belly buttons, have more hugs and kisses than any other time of day, talk about Papa before he wakes up, read books, look out the window, dance and prepare breakfast. You are learning to really use a fork and spoon, by the way. We're all really impressed.

I should probably stop there.
Thanks for 14 months. I'll love you forever.

Trust

Recently I hired a stranger to watch my son. She was from a cool website that we had to pay, and she sounded great (the site calls references and interviews them and records the interview so that you can hear them). We were traveling to visit some friends, and wanted to go out, mostly after he'd gone to bed, so we hired this sitter to come over to our friends' house. It was kind of amazing to reflect on all the stranger's children I've watched, started watching when I was a very young teenager. Z and I thought hard about it and did our due diligence and then...

I was trusting the stranger with my only child.

My friends were trusting me to find someone who was safe to leave in their house.

Simon trusts all of the above... completely, about everything.

It all worked out. Simon really enjoyed his time with the sitter. (She came a couple of times and he got excited to see her each time.) We're home again, and he is learning (still/even more) to trust himself and his strong body. He can climb up the stairs to our third floor apartment. He can climb all over the place at the park. I like to think that he's making our trust of him and his baby judgement, his baby body part of himself.

These days he trusts us to read a book, turn on music, play a game, lift him up, put him down, give him food, hugs, kisses when he asks us to (through an amalgam of sign language, sounds, "words" and enthusiastic empathy). He trusts that when we do something he doesn't like, we'll eventually stop and we'll usually warn him first. It feels really good.

I'm constantly realizing how much faith I have in the world. I don't think I've got more than before (less, actually, because the stakes feel higher) but I'm more aware... when Simon was playing on a hanging bridge at the playground I didn't worry (after testing it) that it would fall. When he approaches another child, I imagine they probably won't damage one another (although some slight damage might occur). I don't worry he'll get disease by chewing wood chips, or tasting the handrail. I'm rewarded... Simon catches himself when he falls, mostly. He's had good luck playing with other people's dogs. It's been a safe, healthy fun year.

I worried that, well, that I would worry a lot more as a parent. In fact I resent it when people occasionally assume or imply that I make the choices I make out of fear, or worry or concern. I wondered why it mattered, but I guess I'm kind of happy to discover how much faith I've got in the world I'm raising my son within.

another beginning...

This year has been full of Zak and I saying to one another "Here we go... it all changes now... look out!"

Tonight was another of those moments. 

We have been signing to Simon since he was 3 months old or so. Starting with "Milk"and "diaper". Zak liked to use big strings of signs together and we often wondered what, if anything, he might pick up. (Experts recommend families starting with one and adding them slowly. This appears to be about helping the adults to be consistent and learn the signs. We had no problems with signing consistently, and knew quite a few signs already from my work with a child whose hearing was impaired, so we just had at it.

Simon first signed "milk"while he was nursing (which is when I would sign it to him). For a long while, he wouldn't sign "milk" when he wanted it, but if I guessed and signed it to him, when he was hungry he would smile, grab my signing hand and stuff it in his mouth. So, basically, he improvised his own sign for "HELL YES!" After awhile, he got tired of that, and has been "signing" milk, by tugging at my shirt and unsnapping my bra for the last few months. 

He learned "water"and signed it by opening and shutting his hand in front of his mouth, often while making a gurgly sound. We were ecstatic. Occasionally he has signed "Papa"and "Mama", although he can  now say those words. Very soon, the sign for water also meant bird, and full diaper. (We can show you the three signs and you can see how his sign is very close to water, bird and dirty.) then he generalized  from "bird"to "bird or dog". So, occasionally throughout the day, he'll sign this sign and we'll look around for context clues to tell us if he needs his diaper changed, is thirsty, or is thinking about a bird or a dog. 

He's really excited about dogs. He's been seeing them around our neighborhood and is big enough to walk over to them and pet them if the owner is cool with it. He always signs "bird" and then we sign "dog" back. For the most part, we've used ASL signs, but I have occasionally wished we'd used the "baby sign" for dog. ASL is to snap your fingers and slap your leg as if calling a dog, and baby sign is to stick out your tongue and pant. Since it'll be awhile before Simon can snap, I had been thinking this was a mistake.

Tonight we went out to dinner and saw a dog on the way home. After it was gone, Simon kept trying to look over my shoulder (I was carrying him on my front facing me.) to see the dog. (Yesterday a dog walked behind us for a few blocks and this method helped him to see it the whole way.) He frantically signed "bird/dog". Zak signed "dog"to him every time and said "dog"too. "duh" is a common sound for Simon to make and a big part of his daily, conversational babble so it was no surprise when he responded to Zak with "duh"and his "bird/dog"sign. Zak emphasized "Daw-GUH" a few times. There was no dog present and the two just kept signing and talking to each other

Simon: Dah! ("bird/dog")

Zak: Daw-GUG ("Dog")

over and over 100 times until... Simon said "Dog-guh". We all got excited. We walked down the street all chanting "Daw-guh" sign language forgotten. I hoped that we'd run into another dog, and we did. Our neighbors had their two puppies out playing and they ran over to Simon and he said to them "Dog-uh". And that was it. The beginning of a child who can definitely think with others about things that are not present, the beginning of a hunger for language, an enthusiasm for naming and describing. Language is hugely important to Zak and me and it was so exciting to walk through the dark  talking together with our little one.

The latest in a long line

 Simon is not the first child to "help" his parents unload the dish washer.










Today he curiously surveyed the dishwasher and then removed this pot.
















He hollered and laughed.
















He likes participating in daily life. After months of a helpless infant who lived only according to his needs, only on his own schedule, it's really marvelous to see him finding his way into our rhythm.







He seems to like it too.

Dear Simon, This month has been such an exciting one, really. You have blossomed into an eater and a mover. I finally feel really like a mother, instead of a fraud, or like I'm playing house, or... I'm not sure how I felt before. The other day, though, when you started crying when I left you with JB and I knew it was because I'm your mama and you didn't want me to go? THEN I felt like your mama in a whole new way. Here are some pictures of your moving, visiting your buddies Dalton and Cayden, and eating.

Dear Simon at 5 months

Dear Simon at 5 months,

I meant to do this earlier. I sat there, on November 13th, while you slept on your little cosleeper in the middle of our big bed, staring at the screen, thinking about a future version of yourself reading the blog I was about to write. (No pressure, though!) An electronic record seemed too cheap, I couldn't imagine that I could type anything that would approximate how I was feeling about you and about your father, that could describe how fascinating I found your every sigh and hiccup. I gave up after about 3 sentences (when you awoke). This blog has always been about me and a way for me to think about things and share them with the people I love, so it seems a little strange to record your life here. I couldn't begin, on November 13th, or on December, or January 13th, to talk intelligently about how it felt to become a mother, to watch Z become a father, to watch as you showed us little glimpses of who you are.

This month, as you nap away. I feel totally ready. You are this incredible person, and you now have anecdotes. (A newborn's anecdotes, let's face it, are pretty dull.) I know more about who you are. You are intensely interested in everything around you, especially living things. (Luckily, people find you intensely interesting too. I have to add an extra 10 minutes to my grocery store trips to account for strangers who want to talk to you and admire you.)

You are becoming more physically capable every day. You can roll over from front to back and back to front, and you can finally hold onto your feet these days (though you can't get them to your mouth). You can wiggle and lurch your way in a circle, and get two or three feet from where we put you (although you don't have a lot of directional control at this point). Every day your father or I sees the potential for crawling. You are socially aware; helping us to change your clothes and watching us when we talk to you. You spend time on your own with your toys on the floor, and enjoy "helping" me cook from the comfort of your ergo. You recently became interested in reading board books, and you watch your father and I when we sign to you. (Who am I kidding? You are interested in EVERYTHING.

Here is the story I really want to tell that sums up your life right now:

Last Saturday, I made a fart noise at you and you laughed. I was so delighted. (The first time I heard you really laugh (you frequently chuckle one or two syllables at a time) I tickled your belly with my nose (this still works)about a month ago. But on Saturday, I made a noise (and a face) and you cracked up! I called your papa in to see. He believes fart noises are universally funny, and was unsurprised (bullshit) but I wondered what about this sound was funny for you. The next day, it no longer worked. (You smiled for the sound, but didn't laugh.) by the end of the day, you would spit and I would reflexively make a fart noise for you. I soon realized that I had accidentally reinforced spitting and brought this up with Z. I thought I should stop, but he said "What's the harm, really?" compared to the powerful experience of you being able to order up a fart noise when ever you want one. (COMMUNICATION!)

Then, your nanny, JB was here on Monday and saw you spit this way. He apologized to Z and took responsibility. He explained that when you are sad, he beatboxes for you! So, you were laughing at me (perhaps) because I don't usually beatbox, JB does! And you were ordering up more! So, now YOU have basically trained your caregivers to beatbox to you. It clearly gives you joy to make this spitting sound (which started as aspirated drool on Sunday, and is already a vibrating lip "motor boat" action) and get the people you love to beatbox for you. (I'm not Rahzel, or anything, but I do my best.)

So, that's where we are 5 months into this adventure, my little darling.

Until next month!
-Mama

Things I love about not being pregnant

This list has been running through my head for awhile now. I loved being pregnant, and not being pregnant has opened me up to enjoying things I never thought much about before.

Taking the stairs not the escalator

rediscovering the waist belt on my backpack

walking between tables in a crowded restaurant

tackling small children/picking them up/general rough-housing

eating spicy food and then lying down right away without heartburn. In fact, tomorrow I think I'll eat some spicy food WHILE lying down.

standing on a crowded train without hating every able-bodied looking person sitting in one of those seats that are supposedly reserved for the disabled, aged... and pregnant.

Smelling fumes/Standing near a microwave/feeling angry without a feeling of dread that I'm ruining my offspring

Demim

Hugging people without having to reach over myself to get at them

Sleeping/Reading on my stomach

Not talking to strangers about my condition (although, admittedly, I missed this for the first few weeks)

Tying my shoes with nary a care in the world (although my pregnant shoe-tying skills are very helpful when I'm carrying Simon in the Moby)

Not having to ask Zak for help with really silly things

Urdva Danurasana (Although with my rotator cuff issues, that was a short-lived love affair... but that's another post entirely.)

Riding my bicycle FAST and without being a spectacle.

Mama said knock you out

I don't know why I stopped blogging, and I'm not sure why I might start again...
I intend to only spend a moment on this topic, but a couple of things stand out to me as I read this blog.
1. I've waited so long to change the banner pic at the top that it's relevant again.
2. I "promised" to reflect on being pregnant, and never did.

I think that when one is pregnant (like when one is an adolescent or when one is in love) one's life becomes a big cliche. It's a cliche because certain things are universal, and so they sound cliche when we talk about them. So, it was weird to write about being pregnant in the same way that it was weird to write about how important my thoughts and feelings were when I was 16. Also, I had a really pleasant pregnancy. Yes, I had hormonal ups and downs, yes, I had heartburn, but really, I had a great time. It can be hard to talk about things that are going well,especially if you have reason to be supersticious and fear "jinxing it". So, I didn't write much about how awesome it was to think about a new person inside my body, how connected to Zak I felt as we moved into this new stage blah de blah de blah. Now that my son has arrived and he is his own person, we are still firmly in the land of cliche ("Every day is an adventure." "He's so tiny and perfect." "I see a whole new side of my husband when I watch him with the baby." etc. etc. etc. BUT it is SO interesting to me that I'll risk it.

Finally, I've just gotten back into the habit of writing and reflecting on a more regular basis in part because I bought Nikki Mclure's First 1000 Days
. (she's a fantastic artist from the old PNW.) I really wanted to write to S about what his infancy is like, and what our transition to parenthood has been like, but I had no time in those first weeks to sit down and think, and it was a little overwhelming to decide which completely new and different details to include and which to leave out. I couldn't prioritize. This journal (which is beautiful in every way) is small, and has two pages for each month. There are other pages later in the book to record things like "songs we sing" or "how you express yourself, words you use" etc. but basically, I have to write succinctly and at the end of the month I have a few small paragraphs that more or less tell the story of that four weeks. This is a relief and an excellent reminder to myself. (I totally recommend Mclure's book as a new baby gift to any family who likes to write or remember. I am loving it.)

Resolution Shmesolution
I was inspired by my friend Jessie a few years ago to choose an intention for the whole year. Last year my intention was "follow through". This is kind of funny, since I didn't blog very much, but hey, I didn't say I'd follow through on my blog, just... in general. Today I spent an hour filing and recycling papers from my "crapalanche" on my desk. This is one kind of the follow-through I was talking about. I do have a few projects I could have finished from this year, but more or less I think I lived up to this intention. I definitely thought a lot about what I was taking on and whether I could finish it up. The sheer effort of doing things while pregnant and meant I had to set more limits than usual and maybe say no (realistically) where I might have said yes (optimistically) in the past. This was an unintended consequence of my commitment to follow through.

2012's intention grows out of this idea of limiting my efforts. This year is all about simplification. Watching a new baby human, and tending to his every need makes it really clear that we really don't need much. We're also getting ready to move (upstairs) and that always brings on some reordering and sloughing off. My work on my desk is also part of simplifying. I'm thinking a lot, too, about my wardrobe. For the last 6 or 8 months, I've pretty much worn 20 items from a bag I got from a friend. (I've worn more clothes in the last three months or so, but really I mostly wear maternity shirts still for nursing ease.) We'll see how I'll do with FOLLOWING THROUGH on this intention this year.

Funny things.

I swear a million funny, poignant things are happening to me every day, and I can't hold onto them long enough to type them here. (Sleep deprivation has done a number on my already shitty short term memory.) Suffice it to say that I'm back to blogging (I think.) and I'll have many deep and witty things to share... wicked soon. But not tonight.

I am enjoying the fact that I am now eligible to be the butt of silly "Your mom" jokes. I guess whichever way I can begin to integrate this new identity is helpful, right?

Baby update

He slept from 11:30 until 5:30 last night. When Zak brought him to me (they slept in the guest room so that I could get some solid rest) I was so confused by the clock that I just stared at them, unsure of what was going on, of what planet I was on even. He's continued to sleep almost all day, waking only twice briefly to play and eat. I believe that he will wake up fully an inch longer tomorrow after a day like this.

Also, I was going to title this post "Don't Call it a Comeback" until I Google Imaged that phrase and found that the top clips were actually from bloggers who were coming back to their blog after some time off. So I didn't do that. However, whenever S gets out of the bath and looks out at us from under his droopy hooded towel neither Z or I can keep ourselves from singing it to him. At some point that will get old, but at this moment everything is so new and so fun.

Free Minds, Free People

This blog post is mostly a place for me to process my thoughts and preserve some resources for later. Feel free to skip it. I promise I'll write more about the joys of pregnancy soon.

I just got back from the Free Minds, Free People conference.
(To be honest, there are a lot of hard core educators for liberation there today, organizing and making plans, but I am exhausted after three long days and need a real break before I go back to work tomorrow, so I've written myself a preggo note and will be staying home and going to the beach,and napping today). And processing.

The conference was beautiful, AND I had a strange feeling of it being almost perfect, but not quite. (Which just means I'll have to get more involved next year.)

I'm basically blogging here to preserve some of the cool resources and organizations I encountered at the conference.

http://www.beyondmedia.org/index.html Beyond Media Education are a group of youth who make videos teaching other youth about really important issues. I didn't get to see any, but would like to.

The Learning Community. This is a charter school working to give charters a good name in Central Falls. I'd heard about them from my friends at Blackstone Academy, and was blown away by the statistics about how they support the larger school system, work with ELL's and children with special rights, and partner with families. I attended a panel all about charters, and the director of the Learning Community was... Sarah Friedman, a woman I worked at Coffee Exchange with. (Ah, Rhode Island!). I definitely want to go visit them in the fall, and see what they're doing.

Institute for Humane Education. Not sure how I feel about these folks. They might be cool... or not. They had a horrifying game about Darfur to build compassion in young people. Yuck.

http://getoutma.org/ This is a fledgling organization designed to get as many middle and high school students out onto farms for short visits. Their goal is quantity, and to allow as many children and youth to have the life-changing experience of digging in dirt and seeing food on the vine.

I was really impressed with the FMFP "Guidelines for Healthy Dialogues". One of the women in my reflective group at the end still felt like she found white people taking up too much space, which is a problem. But I would like to hang on to the guidelines because they addressed a lot of things. I really liked "WAIT" (Why Am I Talking).

I made some connections, but mostly that benefited other people. :( I met a cool theater teacher from NY who was excited about Reggio Emilia because he is Italian and always looking for Italian thinkers to inform his pedagogy. I met a young teacher who may apply for the atelierista position at our school (she sounds a little raw, and is unfamiliar with Reggio, but she has an art degree and worked with infants and toddlers). I met a cool early childhood teacher who lives in JP and is interested in visiting our school. The people who seemed further along in their journeys were a little harder for me to access, caught up in their existing circles. I remembered a Hilltop conference where we all stuck together and then tried to consciously make space for everyone else. I also remembered our first Day of Learning when people really weren't able to mix together.

I have to say I didn't learn a lot that was new. I learned a little more about the term "Neo-liberalism" (I need to learn more). I really enjoyed hearing from the teachers who were featured in the plan book for social justice teachers, both on the first day as a panel, and the second day at lunch. I'm incredibly inspired by the teachers who are continuing to teach Chicano studies even though AZ recently passed an unjust law making the class illegal (for building ethnic solidarity and encouraging overthrow of the government). I was impressed at how Sam Coleman, a union rep in NYC, and Kathy Young and Stephanie Schneider, two protesting teachers from WI cast a critical eye at their unions, while working for change outside of them.

I had a conversation with Dr. Vincent Harding (although I only knew him as Vincent, at that moment). In telling him and the people at my table what I do, I mentioned anti-bias curriculum. He said "Whenever I hear someone say that they're anti-something, I ask them 'What is it that you are for?'". I gave this a lot of thought. I love the phrase "education for liberation" but I feel as thought it's important for a community of mostly-white mostly-middle class teachers to think hard about bias, and our encounters with it. I feel as though it is at the very least a first step to look squarely at bias and talk about it. After the last year of working with staff to think about questions of difference and bias, I feel like if we had posed our work more positively we would not have awakened staff to the truth of our culture. In fact, I wish that we had spent more time looking at systemic and institutionalized racism. Even though I feel very comfortable with "Education for liberation", I don't know that it would be the right thing to start with. I guess I worry that people who have been protected from the ugliness of racism and other bias need to be faced with it, including "anti-" type language. At the same time, I was very grateful to Vincent for raising this issue, and I'll have to think more about it.

Chemicals

"Besides, I like chemicals!"

My landlady's boyfriend ("Harold") said this as I walked away from him down the street.

A local grocery chain sold out to Whole Foods this month and it's been a really big deal in our neighborhood because the chain store has a HUGE section of Latin American and Caribbean foods that you really can't find anywhere else. Also, of course because of WF's symbolism in the process of gentrification. There was a flyer in our mailboxes this morning that said "Whose Foods?" that Harold was commenting upon.

He was talking about how expensive WF could be, and I'd said noncommittally, "Oh, you know they carry a lot of expensive items, but you can shop there inexpensively too." When he countered with "Besides, I like chemicals. No really... Chemicals are way better for you than biology. That's something environmentalists always forget; biology can kill you. Microbes cause more deaths than chemicals 100 to 1!"

It's interesting to me... the more I think about things the more they tend to become closer together; lines get fuzzier and I see lots of connections. I love the idea of this guy and the clarity of his delineations; of a camp supporting the biological and the chemical, especially in light of this very difficult neighborhood dispute all about the inter-connected issues of empowerment, identity, community and access. Go Biology! Go!

First Eco Sabbath

Colin Beavan is kind of annoying, actually.

He's also known as "No Impact Man"; a guy who tried to live with as little impact on the planet as possible for one year. I read his blog regularly, but have to admit that sometimes I don't because he's so completely bent on his objective. (Actually, of course, I really admire someone who lived without electricity for a year in New York City. I just get embarrassed sometimes when people get really sincere about something... like They Might Be Giants used to make me feel embarrassed this way.)

Anyhow, whether you like his message, or like one friend of mine you think "he's so arrognant about it that it makes me want to go irresponsibly consume like a mofo" he and his family made themselves an example in a lot of important ways for those of us who are preparing for a post-petroleum world.

One thing that he suggests is to take an Eco-Sabbath. His suggestion is: "For one day or afternoon or even hour a week, don't buy anything, don't use any machines, don't switch on anything electric, don't cook, don't answer your phone, and, in general, don't use any resources. In other words, for this regular period, give yourself and the planet a break. Keep your regular eco-sabbath for a month. You'll find that the enforced downtime represents an improvement to your life."

The funny thing is, though I planned in advance to do my eco-sabbath, I didn't write down his example, or even look at it the day before. I knew I didn't want to use my computer, so I didn't look it up, which means I didn't quite hit his mark. I did spend the day quietly, and without my computer which had a tremendous impact. The way that our house is organized, our computers are in the central room of the house. Since Zak is often at his machine when I come home, my computer has become my resting place. This is a very new development and I'd like to undo it. So, no email or Facebook yesterday, which was very nice, and gave me a lot of extra time.

I had a lot of time for yoga in the morning, and I didn't set an alarm which was very relaxing. I did use machines and spend money, because I went to the laundromat, but that had been put off for days and HAD to happen. (I wore sweat pants and some stripey Christmas socks with holes in them to the laundromat... we were pretty far gone.) Next time, I'll make sure not to procrastinate my laundry onto eco sabbath.

I also baked, mostly because I didn't read the description. I was headed to a potluck later in the day, and made enough risotto cakes for the potluck and for Z and me to have for the next day.

Conveniently, the potluck I was headed to was all about Transition Towns. Those of us who gathered for a workshop in November were getting together to see about what's next. The potluck was at JP Greenhouse, which is an awesome demonstration house. They're rehab-ing an old building into a Passive House, and they're very close to their goal. I brought my risotto cakes into a warm ("65 degrees and no heat outside of the sun, our appliances the light bulbs and you people!" the homeowners pointed out.) bright room, had some incredible food and then got a tour of the house.

Finally we sat down to talk about Transition. It's interesting to me that the people in the room who have really given their lives to making change in the world, who have been activists for as long as I've been alive are the people who really have the hardest time with Transition. “Who are the leaders?” “How can this work in an urban setting?” “There are already people doing things!” Our training was very interesting to me, and it was easy for me to see the value in having principles and protocols for how to come together about things as mind-boggling huge and overwhelming as climate-change and peak oil, while respecting and encouraging everyone's different work and learning from one another. Another woman who was there is a perma-culture teacher and she also had no problem with the “haziness” or ambiguity of the Transition handbook. I spoke up a couple of times in the meeting, once to suggest that we have an Open Space conversation next. The facilitator said she preferred another meeting “like this” in order to see where people were. I pushed back and then she smiled and said “Do you want to plan the next meeting?”

So, that's where my big mouth has gotten me: planning the next meeting for a movement of people who aren't even sure they understand or believe that the movement is what it says it is.

Whhhheeeeeeee!

I biked home and spent the evening reading until it was time for bed. I haven't spent that much time reading for pleasure in a long time. I think this eco-sabbath thing might stick.

This year goes to 11.

Happy New Year!

Perfect way to start my day: steaming cup of tea, just finished breakfast, cuddly cat in my lap, and Brother Ali on the stereo.


Transition
I just finished perusing Up trees a misspelled, awkward blog with some pretty pictures about a guy who's interviewing people in trees, one every day. I like his enthusiasm, his creativity and I bet the project is really fun. I got there from a blog I read about Transition.. I got *there* from a Transition Towns Training I attended in the fall. If you don't know what Transition is, it's my favorite approach to "environmentalism" I've seen yet. Everyone is invited and welcomed to a free-formed group of people interested in a vision of what their local community will look like in 20 years. The main issues are those of climate change and peak oil, but without any blame or doom-saying... the emphasis is on getting moving and doing the things you love and teaching those things to the people around you. So far so good. I'm meeting with the folks from the JP Transition Town Training next weekend, and I'm really excited!

2011 Intention
It's funny... I was about to say that I have a tradition of choosing an intention for the coming year. I checked back to look at January blog posts past only to find that this isn't true. I know I did once, way back in 2005, maybe?

This is hilarious, because the intention I chose for myself this year, is to follow-through! So, next year, you'll find a 2012 intention here and know that I succeeded. In my work, my school work, my relationships and my personal life, I want to make good on some of the big ideas I have.


Our House is Empty Again.

On December 20th our friend Lexi came to visit, and this started the great visit of 2010... with one day (the 22nd) excepted, we had guests until January 2nd! We are always delighted to see her, and it was even more delightful because she came with Boston's first snow of the year. We walked out to the new restaurant Canary Square in the snow. I was choked by sharp snow crystals, but couldn't help laughing despite the danger. It was a lovely evening together.

The next day, my sister arrived (12 hours late!) and headed out the next day for a round of visiting. Ivo, her husband arrived on the 23rd and then we all headed to my mom's place in East Providence. The 26th brought a huge blizzard and the Sprayberries! We spent the 27th watching Chelsea LOSE to Arsenal (1-3) and the rest of the time playing board games. Jessy and Ivo decided to skip New York because of the weather, so we had them with us when we headed to Westport for a quiet New Year's evening with Susanna and some friends. It was amazing; calm, cozy, and nourishing. If we spend all year doing what we do on New Years eve, then we're looking at a year full of great conversations, good food, and yes, more games. Jessy and Ivo left on the 2nd, and now we're back to work, back to real life. (Almost... my classes don't start until the 14th, so I am taking it a little easier than usual.)

Not every childcare worker...

Gets to attend professional development at the Harvard Faculty Club. I know it would be much cooler of me not to notice the high-quality paper towels and hand lotion available in the bathroom, the sterling coffee service, and the general gorgeousnes of the surroundings. I know that just saying it loud makes me sound like a bumpkin in a disrespected field who is used to Howard Johnson's conference rooms (and I'm not... I've been on work retreats that rivaled yoga retreats!) But, I really appreciated our surroundings for this conference.

 
 
 

Kurt Vonnegut didn't have to write all those stories, he could just name off the big idea and say Kilgore Trout wrote it.

Here are the things I thought about writing about today:

The forbidden joy of playing a board game with a friend in the middle of a work day. I was going to work later which only made it feel more decadent and forbidden.

The thrill and challenge of driving through rush hour down town on my bike afterdark, followed by the comfort of the smooth open bike path with one or two little blinking red lights up ahead for company and competition.

The (unusual for me) feeling of giving someone a perfect gift.

The wonder and freedom of a new journal.

The smug eye contact I enjoy sharing with my fellow November in New England cyclist commuters.

How powerfully my time with one true, exhilaratingly fun, thoughtful and delightful friend makes me think about all the others.

But now I’m going to wash the dishes because I’ve been spending a lot of time with friends and family instead of taking care of business lately.

Through to Sunrise

I can type without looking at the keys, which means that right now, as I type,I'm actually looking out the window. I'm in a forward facing seat on the Commuter Rail to Providence, and the sun is coming up. It's bright. When we hit a treeless piece of track, I turn to face it for as long as I can stand. Maybe it's the time I spent in Seattle, but in the winter it seems like I can feel something good coming into my eyes when I look at the sun.

I didn't sleep much last night,but I feel very awake.
I travel this way pretty often, but it's so rare that I watch the miles go by.

Last night when Z got home from soccer he told me he ran into two cyclists who asked directions to Inman square. Because telling directions on the bike path is pretty tricky (There are few signs, and the path is interrupted a few times by streets)he suggested they take the train. "We rode from Providence!" they said "and by now its a point of pride. We're riding all the way." Z couldn't argue with that, as he recently fit a huge box of DISHES on his bike and pedaled a few miles for the same reason. He gave the travelers simple directions on main streets.

Needless to say we were both impressed. We'd looked at the possibility of that ride before, and it's really long. As I look at all these miles passing by, I'm a little surprised. When I really consider it, I realize that I think of Boston and Providence as separated by time, but not really by distance. I often say "here" in a way that encompasses Boston, Providence, South County with no difference. Sitting on the train, reading, writing, snoozing or hanging out with Z is just part of the penance I have to pay, but I don't consider the miles, just the minutes.

The exception to this is occasionally when I have to explore the stops between my two destinations. Occasionally if there's some rush and someone could meet me in a car, I'll look at the map and figure out where exactly a place like Mansfield or Sharon is. One time, I thought I had cash and jumped aboard the train planning to pay en route. (If I'm honest, I'll tell you, I thought I could pay with a card on the train. If the waitstaff at WagaMama can have handheld credit card machines, why can't the MBTA? Boy did the conductor think I was an idiot for thinking that! Another holdover of my Seattle personality.)

Anyway, she turned me out at the next available stop... Route 128! I felt stranded in an unknown wilderness. I called my pal Mrs. Gray, and asked her to pick me up because it would be hours before I could catch another train and we'd planned to spend the day together. I could give her no directions, so she followed her GPS to get there. I walked, blinking and bewildered out of the station, found a busy enough intersection with a parking lot where I could wait and told her where I was.

I feel a little like that now, seeing the quaint steeples, gritty mills, tract housing, lines of oak trees going by; confronted with the reality of the distance. When we were 19 my friend Julie and I took a train to Oakland, CA from Providence. We met hundreds of people on the way. This morning, looking out the window at the pink sky and the golden light on the trees over the hunched leather jacket of my seatmate, I remembered an agreement we made early on in the trip. We had perhaps stayed up late with a new friend who had taught us to play Euchre in the club car, or maybe had just been awakened by a stop at daybreak, but we sat in our seats and watched the sunrise over... upstate New York perhaps? It was so beautiful, and we were starting to understand what we had in store for the next week. We agreed like 8 year old blood brothers that anytime there was something incredible like a sunset or a sunrise, we each had the permission to awaken the other. Sleep was nothing compared to seeing the entire country out the window of the Amtrack train.

I feel a little like that now in a lot of ways. Now I'll try to get to know the scenery on this train ride the way I know my walk to the library or my bike ride to work. Our return to New England has felt so much like a glimpse into all the meanings a place can hold for us.

Of course, days later, after spending the night chatting with some other young people in the viewing and smoking cars, I returned to my seat during the most beautiful sunrise over Minnesota. I hesitated and then awakened Julie. She peeked out the window and said "Yeah. Thanks Kendra. Maybe we won't do that anymore. I'll see you tomorrow."

I was supposed to be reading...

I've been trying to dry our laundry without a dryer lately. This is both easier and harder as a laundromat patron. It's easier because it saves me a LOT of quarters and time sitting at the cafe next to the laundromat. It's harder because it feels strange to cart wet laundry through the streets and up the stairs to my apartment.

This means that I only have 30 minutes or so to wait while my laundry washes. Unfortunately, my new laundromat (the one I recently started visiting, the one that has a hand lettered sign in the window that says "New Owner and He's CUTE!") plays daytime television very loudly. I actually have a hard time not getting mad in there just because of the fear/shame-based shows, so I started going next door, to the Robinwood cafe. Once, I got a spinach pie there and it was really delicious. I'd looked through their entire four page menu without finding much vegetarian, and not much that I was excited to eat (they have breakfast all day, but I try not to eat factory farmed eggs) when I spied (under desserts!) a spinach pie. Turns out the owners are Greek and the Spinach pie is fantastic!

Today, I started my wash (I added Cocacola to one of the washers to deal with some olive oil stains. My sister told me it would work. The clothes are still on the porch, so it remains to be seen.) then headed to the cafe. Since I'm broke, and I'd bought the coke there, I sat at a table with the half-full coke and asked for water to drink while I read.

I heard the young, enthusiastic waiter plugging a show he was playing tonight at Spontaneous Celebrations, a community center near my house. Then, I heard him talking with an older Greek woman who runs the show at the cafe, possibly an owner.

Woman: What will you wear?
Waiter: Jeans and a Tshirt. Normal stuff.
Woman: Do you play songs? Nice Songs? _______________

(Now,in that blank spot, I thought she said "like, musical?" But the kid (who knows her better and was actually in the conversation seemed to think she said "like disco". I'll never know which it was, but it works both ways.)

Waiter: Like disco? I tell you every time. It's hard core punk. It's fast and loud.

I returned to my reading about how school systems can build schools to teach higher order thinking skills for a moment until...

Waiter: When it's recorded, people say I sound Japanese. (guy is white)
Woman: Japanese?
Waiter: yeah.
Woman: What do you say? What are the words? Are there lyrics?

The waiter then very sincerely explained what the songs were about. But that was so sweet that I didn't write it down. He also explained that they had made their own posters, t shirts, cassettes (?) and cds and then given most of them away. The woman was not very impressed with this business plan and told him so.

The whole time, I must point out, "Your song" by Elton John was playing in the background.

Running Hot and Cold

I woke up in Providence today. I spent the night at friends' house (they live in a trick or treating-er neighborhood than we do. When I arrived yesterday afternoon, I was wearing a t-shirt. (Z and I take our bikes to the train, then ride the train to PVD, then ride another 15 or 20 minutes to our friends' place in Cranston.) I couldn't believe how warm it was "kids won't have to hide their costumes under coats tonight!" I thought.

Then, by the time we went trick or treating (there were two kids there for us to accompany, because it's kind of creepy to wander around as just adults) I needed my Mork and Mindy vest. (I also had gloves... I dressed as a cyclist who didn't wear a helmet, cursed to wear one and a lock around my neck for all eternity in a very gory, morbid morality tale of a costume.) The children we were with were dressed as a princess strawberry and a slice of pizza. The elder (about 6) was chased down the sidewalk by a man in coveralls and a mask wielding a chainsaw. The kid was wicked scared, but blessedly he was scared shitless in that wonderfully Halloween fun way. It's a fine line to walk and it's heartbreaking when we accidentally fall over that line into trauma, but we managed it as a group.

Today, cycling to the train station, I was so cold I had a headache that started at my ears, went into my eustatian tubes and froze my brain. I wore every stitch of clothing I had plus Z's jacket, and I was still cold.

Once we returned to Boston (and I put on some smartwool) I was cozy again. My ride to work was mild and pleasant. I stayed a little too long though. Even though it was only 5:30 when I left I needed my lights. Though the temprature had dropped, with my winter riding gloves and my vest I was warm enough.

Sitting here today, though, in a house that smells of roasting pumpkin, I am really warm!

Ups and downs. I guess I shouldn't complain.... soon it'll be almost all cool all the time.

(In case you cant' tell by my general lack of content for this post, I'm going to try to blog every day this month along with a lot of other cool bloggers. I wonder what it will be like!)

(I'm also taking an email class this month from a Buddhist teacher and author I've learned a lot from, Cheri Huber. I wonder a lot about that too!)

Welcome back, October!

This was the status of a friend who is a Libra like me.

As I wrote the date in my journal this morning, I felt a familiar pang of "October already?" In other years, I've made banal comments to strangers and coworkers about how quickly time goes, how hard it is to believe, how wistful I am about the whole thing. Working with very young children really exacerbates this sensation. Sometimes I'll look at a photo I took just a month or two ago, and be stunned by how much the child has stretched out, her face taken more shape, her vocabulary and physical strength increased in that short time. Children are never disappointed that time moves on.

Today, when I wrote the date, instead of feeling time hustling me forward, I cheered it on a little. "Yes!" I thought. "Go to bed, 2010. It's nearly time for you to be done." This has been a rich, full year (and it's not even over yet!) but it's also held a lot of pain for my family, friends and I. So I'm not clinging to it today, or bemoaning it's passage, I'm embracing the natural process of falling away. I think about the darkness in the evening, the chill in the wind (not today... not this week, actually, but I swear I got to wear wool socks once in September) the apples and squashes piled on my table and I am happy. I'm like a bear going sleepily into hibernation, a rose dying back, just ready for the wind and snow and darkness to come. Then in a little while, I'll be ready for the sun again, and for a new year to begin.

Yeah, awesome, go...

My commute to work is about 4.5 miles and a good chunk of that is on two bike paths. There are a few exciting parts where I have to pass through busy intersections, but mostly it's cake. There are excitements of another kind, however, now that I commute at odd hours. I used to be heading out around 7, or 7:30 or 10 when lots of people were going to work. Now it's later, around the middle of the day when everyone is pretty mellow.

The first episode today was when I was heading very fast down a big hill. I saw an ambulance parked by the side of the road and an odd tableau came into view. Two EMT's stood, looking down with their arms folded at a man on the ground. The man on the ground was wearing only spandex shorts and running shoes. He looked like he was lounging because he was leaning back on one elbow, gesticulating high in the air with his other hand. Lastly, there was a cyclist, helmet on but unbuckled, bike against a nearby tree, also looking down at the man but more exasperated than the EMT's. I didn't have time to make up much of a story because I went by them as quickly as I could. My guess: a crash of some kind between runner and cyclist, but everyone but the shirtless man thinks that he's ok. The shirtless man feels that there's been an injustice.

Later that afternoon, as I was biking home, there was a guy walking his mountain bike up the short hill to the BU bridge. He kept wandering from side to side so I couldn't quite make it around him. I "ding-ed" my cheerful little bell to let him know I was coming around the outside of him. He growled at me "uh... Yeah! Awesome, go!" as I passed.

I passed the place where I always look for a deer by the road (I've seen her there twice) and was barreling through some trees that border a soccer field on one side when I saw a 13 year old girl in soccer clothes, standing around looking vague by the side of the bike path. Then, right as I came even with her another girl in a matching kit stood up and pulled her shorts up in one movement communicating "I just finished peeing outdoors" then saw me and said "Oh!" and I laughed out loud HARD.

Thank goodness Fredrick Olmstead worked so hard to keep these lands available to the public!