things for liking

neon seesaws.

croatian sea organs.

ice cream-filled potholes.

ferris wheel hotel rooms.

frosted cakes in subway trains.

grandmothers in rainbow weavings.

disposable cameras in the hands of the homeless.

found photographs turned fictionalized landscapes.

home invasions involving white balloons.

(things for liking, things that instill wonder)

the jar of magical thinking

this is the jar of magical thinking. aka, the jar that sits on the blue wooden table and holds scraps of paper with ava's and ezra's words scrawled on them. aka, words I want to remember.

I first read about the jar of magical thinking back in 2008 and besides the fact that it was originally inspired by joan didion, here's what I love about it: it's an old spaghetti sauce jar, that's it. and the papers used are whatever is available, whatever is currently within reach-- backs of envelopes, leftover notebook paper, index cards, bits of paper bags, old receipts, anything.

this means I never hesitate to scribble words down, never. I never wonder if the paper is pretty enough or my handwriting is pretty enough. this means the whole thing is so simple it's nearly impossible to screw up. and you know what? six years later and I'm still doing it. I'm still stuffing that little jar full of magic bits. I'll stuff it till I can't stuff it anymore, till there are so many scraps of paper in that old jar it practically hums and hovers from all the magical thinking.

I never finished the baby books, probably never will. and I'm a thousand years behind with all the photo albums, but this. this I can do. and will continue to do until I can't anymore. or until they run out of magical thinkings, which I hope is never.

she is

awesome, that is. and I'm glad she knows it, that she's not afraid to say it. about a month ago, I gave her a plain pair of white keds and a box of fabric markers. well, and that was that. it was quickly decided that these would be the shoes she'd wear on the first day of school. a declaration of confidence, if you will. the shoelaces are from the tiny shoelace factory that lives inside city museum and I'd like to think she looks down at her feet and remembers the terrific day we spent zipping down monster slides and watching the fine people at the little shoelace factory work their magic with the spinning machines and bright-colored thread. I'd like to think she looks down at her feet when she's feeling a little unsure of herself and is instantly reminded just how awesome she really is.

list twenty-three: ten things I love about ava

ava turned ten a couple of days ago. yup, ten. both feet into the next decade and there are a few things I'd like to say:

1. she loves cherry-flavored anything. almost as much as I do.

2. she is able to transform all tiny hidden nooks and corners into magic places.

3. she does not mess around when it comes to fountains and wishes. it's the same every time: she cups the penny with both hands, closes her eyes tight and whispers her wish with an impressive amount of intensity before flinging it into the water. so much hope in her eyes it makes me want to cry.

4. she totally gets why old banana seat bikes are cool.

5. she loses herself in books.

6. she draws pictures that are full of quirky characters and spectacular detail, pictures that tell the kind of stories I wish I could write.

7. she has a super silly side but only lets those closest to her see it.

8. she watches the world with wide open eyes and often sees things I do not.

9. she still lets me read to her at bedtime.

10. she is the girl I always wanted to be. and still do.

(twenty-three down, twenty-nine to go)

list eighteen plus photobooth friday: six things I love about ezra

ezra is six today. six. and I'm sort of in shock, as I always am each year. as if time has ever done anything other than run rampant and wreak havoc on the lives of people everywhere. here's the thing: I love this kid. for at least a thousand different reasons. but I've got a vanilla birthday cake to bake so here are six:

1. he is absolutely hilarious. everyday, he is hilarious.

2. he pronounces the word hamburger hamburgerger. this kills me.

3. the sound of afrika bambaata causes him to drop everything and dance. if these turn out to be his early b-boy years and he goes on to win the world over with back spins, windmills and toprock, I shall surely cry many salty tears of joy.

4. he calls sunlight 'shine'. as in, mama, I need to roll the window down so I can feel the shine. I need the shine.

5. without fail, he is lulled to sleep every single night with my very special bill murray lullaby rendition of the star wars song.

6. he loves freely. totally and completely, no holds barred. tis a thing of beauty, my friends. and to be on the receiving end of such love? no words.

happy 6th birthday, awesome boy of mine. life without you would be a total drag.

(eighteen down, thirty-four to go)

ezra still says valentimes

and I really sort of love it.

happy valentimes day, friends.

xo

like mother like daughter

the best thing about today (and tomorrow and the day after that and probably forever) is ava's homemade polaroid camera.



I am ridiculously proud.

around the corner

let me tell you, I'd like to peel off my sockpants and hurl my big brown boots across the room. I'd like to run free. I think my skin would thank me and perhaps throw a wild party in my honor. sockpants= what ezra calls tights. and that's just what they are. very tight pants made from hot, sweaty socks.

ah, spring. to shed said sockpants. to wear something floaty, to smell like lemons and sugar.

also, I hear good things about the flowers. word on the street is that spring is good for flowers. I'm hoping that's true.

highly recommended

thursday's suggestion: draw with your eyes closed. bonus if you're waiting for pizza to arrive and all you have is a paper napkin. ava swears by it.

p.s. the above experiment can be conducted both literally and figuratively.

I miss the shiny

there were two rainies and one shiny today, mama. that's what ezra said to me last week. meaning it rained twice and the sun came out once. it's true, the rain is here. we are currently experiencing our first long stretch of rain here in the great city of portland. and I'm okay. I think. actually, I cried like a baby the first few days and then ward said I was absolutely not allowed to break down this soon into it. the rains have only just begun. so I made a decision: I am meeting it halfway. I'm making a concerted effort. I'm taking the advice so many portlanders have given me in the past and I am getting out in it. the other day, I rode my bike in the rain. which was a mess. my feet kept slipping off the pedals and it was freezing and I couldn't see half the time (what with all that rain in my eyes) but I'll tell you, it felt pretty good. I rode for as long as I could take it, something like a very pathetic seven minutes (if that) but next time I'll go for longer. and I'll remember to wear my fingerless gloves plus maybe a raincoat. but first, I will have to buy a raincoat.

I'm not going to pretend like I don't miss the shiny. the sun comes out every once in a while and I stop everything (and I mean everything) to acknowledge it. I call out the arrival of the sun like a lunatic, like we've not seen it in a hundred years. SUN! SUN! and everyone in the house freezes, unsure of what their next move should be. what should we do? go outside? lay down in it? sing a song about it? and before we can decide, it's gone. just like that.

nothing to do but get on that bike and ride.

it's the second day of happiness

which is what ava said to me last week when we had two days of sunshine in a row. something like a tiny sliver of sugar-covered yellow dangled in front of us, good enough to eat. nothing but rain and cold now. rain and cold, rain and cold. I am so desperate for summer that I would almost be okay to skip right over spring.

oh okay

a couple months ago, ava brought home an 'all about me' poster from school. she spent the entire afternoon filling in blanks, answering questions, drawing a self-portrait. an hour into it, I peeked over her shoulder. in the space designated 'what I want to be when I grow up', she'd written 'plain servant'. oh wow, I thought. plain servant. what a heartbreakingly humble aspiration. what a thing of greatness. she wants to serve others. and she doesn't want to be fancy about it. this is Christ-like, I thought. this is special, this is deep. this is what I want to be too. naturally, I had to know more. which is when I found out she meant plane servant. as in airplane. I want to help people on airplanes, she said. oh, you mean like a flight attendant? yes, she said. that's what I want to be when I grow up.

which is totally okay too. totally.

mad skills

somewhere along the way, ezra got it in his head to make penguin robots. but with foil and little paper umbrellas.

really, I just want a mind that works like that.

photobooth friday

a couple of days ago, ava asked me why people have to work. why does daddy have to go to work? we've already had this conversation but that did not stop me from launching into a loooong explanation about the basics of life and how these basics cost money and how, in most cases, you have to work to earn money. things like houses, food, electricity, heat, health care, clothing-- these things are not free. almost everybody has to work to make money. and then we talked about about how sometimes just the dad works, sometimes just the mom works, sometimes both the mom and dad work. sometimes there is just a mom and she has to work. sometimes there is just a dad and he has to work. and then I was knee deep in a whole thing about how even though I stay at home and don't bring in an actual paycheck, I still work too. many, many words later and I was still explaining what it is I actually do. I even threw in something about how I occasionally teach to make a little extra money.

then she asks about the paycheck and how does that actually work? do you get real live dollars or what? this should have been a short, sweet little answer comparing the similarities between a weekly allowance (which we've just starting giving her) and a paycheck but then, I don't know, somehow I managed to turn even that into a big long overblown blahbiddyblah about how checks and debit cards work and how the bank works and what happens when people bounce checks and how important it is to keep track of how much money you have and how important it is to save money, to set aside some for a rainy day. even though I am certainly in no position to be telling anybody anything about the act of saving money.

so I was sort of proud of how thoroughly I'd broken it all down for her and I wanted to tell her that conversations like this, they're a big part of my job too. but of course, I didn't say that. I just asked her if she had any more questions about work or money. or anything else. she told me no, not really. because it's too much, it takes too long. well, some questions have longer answers than others, I said. sometimes there's a lot to tell you about something and it's my job to make sure that I answer your questions in the best way I know how. sometimes it takes a little longer to explain things. which is when she told me that actually, it's a lot of times, mom. A LOT OF TIMES.

okay, well. I am going to try very hard not take that personally. and probably I am going to keep my mouth shut next time a big question like that pops up because I am no fool. brevity is key. though apparently, I stink at that.

lookit:

leSophie
matt!?
acumamakiki
a.stray
lovegreendog
portnatalia
jennifer clare
revivify
unasu
arianaC
story of my life
thatbeegirl

monday: water

I wait for the waves to come swirling around my feet and when they do, I gasp. the northwestern pacific ocean waters are cold cold cold. gorgeous, but so icy cold. enough to send me running for the blanket, which I immediately sprawl out on. I stretch my arms and legs out until I am a giant letter X. I look towards the sun for warmth and I miss the gulf. I miss the balmy air, the quiet turquoise waters, the way the unrelenting heat forces bodies into the ocean. I am remembering how it felt to wade out into the water-- how my body took on the soft undulations, how the uneven slap of waves felt against my skin, how I let my arms float just above the surface. have you ever tried to stand still in the ocean? it's nearly impossible. I love that. then there's that spectacular feeling of forever. same brilliant feeling of infinity here on the west coast, though I can't help but miss the ocean that I know. I don't know this ocean. I can't imagine loving an ocean with waters so cold.

ava refuses to let the cold interrupt her happiness. instead, she embraces the temperature of the water with an enviable enthusiasm. I shiver just watching her and she pleads with me to join in. too cold, I yell out. she insists that it's not cold, that it feels good. you just have to get used to it, she says. and that is what I am trying to do. I am trying to get used it. I am trying to get used to everything. I am trying so hard.

I hear her laugh and watch her skip towards the water, watch small white waves cover her feet. she opens her arms wide and throws her head back. she is dancing now, oblivious to the cold.

(for lovely shari's week of natural elements: monday/water, tuesday/earth, wednesday/air, thursday/fire, friday/metal)

we found the butter

inside a huge silver stock pot and way up high, in the back of one of the kitchen cabinets. I don't even want to know how he got up there. how did he get up there? how did he get his hands on a pot that I have to use a step stool to get to? I swear, I haven't had that big pot out in ages. I laughed out loud when I saw it and felt like taking a victory lap around the house. look buddy! I yelled. it's the butter! we found the butter! how in the world did you get up there? huh? HOW? he smiled that little closed mouth half-moon smile. I sorry mommy, he said. I din mean to, I SORREEEE! still with that half moon smile and me standing there, holding that tub of liquidy yellow goo, completely puzzled.

(if you're confused, read this and/or this)

ava thursday

I've hijacked ava thursday again. she made these for me recently-- taped them over my workspace with a roll of scotch tape she found somewhere.

and I whole-heartedly agree, I do. I like colors that rhyme. I like bubbles.

pree coo

that's what he's been saying these days. you know, if he thinks something is pretty cool. pree coo, he says. das pree coo!

I am a mother rendered numb by infinite cuteness.

photobooth friday

(ava, city museum, december 31, 2005)


"courage... courrr-aaage... what does that mean?"

"um, it's kind of like bravery, what it means to be brave. do you know what that means?"

"sort of."

"okay, well... you would be considered brave if you did something that needed to be done, even if you were really REALLY scared to do it. get it?"

"kind of... not really."

"when was the last time you were scared?"

"today in school, when I had to go up to the teacher's desk to get a kleenex to blow my nose."

"you know what? when I was in 4th and 5th grade, I HATED walking up to the front of the class room to sharpen my pencil... I hated it so much that I'd wait until my pencil was worn down to the nub, until I couldn't write with it anymore. then I would take a deep breath and make the long walk to the pencil sharpener."

"but why were you so scared?"

"because I didn't like the idea of everyone looking at me. it made me nervous."

"oh."

(long pause)

(and then her face lights up)

"hey! that sounds just like me! that's just like what I felt like too!"

"I KNOW! we're so totally the same. so did you get the kleenex anyway, even though you were scared?"

"yup. I didn't want to but I HAD to."

"see, that took courage. you were afraid to do something but you knew you had to do it and you did it. you were brave! understand now?"

(she nods)

"courage. I like that word."

"yeah. it's a good word".


and then we finished the chapter of the book we were reading (matilda), said our prayers and exchanged hugs and kisses. nightlights were turned on and sheets and blankets were adjusted to accomodate hot little feet.

night after night of this same sort of thing and I have grown to love it exponentially. not just the nightly bedtime rituals, but more so the reading. to have that short-lived time with her-- re-reading the books that I grew up loving, explaining what certain words and ideas mean (which almost always leads to a good story or two), witnessing the light of recognition in her eyes. surely she will be reading chapter books on her own soon. she reads picture books just fine now but I know it won't be long before I find her hunched over a book with a flashlight, way past bedtime. at least, that's what I'm hoping. that's where my love of books was born-- impossible stacks checked out from the library each week and then me under the blankets, unable to sleep for all the reading. I could not stop reading. in this way, worlds cracked wide open for me.

I am wishing that for ava. but I am also wishing that this time I spend reading to her never ever ends.


more photobooth friday reads:

jesC
the whole self
acumamakiki
matt!?
jek-a-go-go
shameless self promoters

amateur hour

so we were on our way home saturday night when we heard it.

we'd spent the better part of saturday rushing around like crazy people, a day that culminated in a dreaded (but necessary) trip to The Mall. we were there to do one thing: purchase ezra's big christmas present. a buzz lightyear doll. I should also preface this by saying the ez has been a little out of sorts lately. nothing major, just the usual toddler stuff-- super wiggly, extra grouchy with a whine that makes you to want to pull eyelashes out one by one. by saturday night, we were all on the verge of something big and ugly but somehow, we made it. we made it through the day without any major meltdowns, the dignity of the family fairly intact. most importantly, buzz lightyear made it to the car with ezra none the wiser. this might not seem like a major thing but not too much gets by the kid and ward and I were basking in it. we were feeling pretty cocky, ready to celebrate. and-- the wiggling and the crying and the whining had finally stopped. when I caught sight of ezra's heavy-lidded eyes, I felt the sort of relief that only comes at the end of this kind of day. the car was silent. dear readers, it was a thing of beauty.

and then we heard it. loud and clear and from the trunk:

"BUZZ LIGHTYEAR TO THE RESCUE!"
"TO INFINITY AND BEYOOOOOOND!"

ward and I looked at each other in horror. we looked back at ezra and his eyes immediately popped open. he was wild with excitement, as if the rescue he'd been waiting so long for had finally come, as if he'd always known it would happen this way. his mouth made the tiniest little 'o' and his eyes were wide as silver dollars. he could barely speak. ward abruptly stopped the car. we looked at each other, waited for a divine intervention of sorts. silence. and then ezra began to scream for buzz, pointing upwards and backwards, laughing, struggling to turn around in his car seat.

in an instant, it was clear what we must do. we must play dumb. we must pretend we had not heard the Voice From The Back. we turned the radio on, spoke to him soothingly, pleaded with him to go back to sleep but the child, he knew. HE KNEW WHAT HE HAD HEARD. and he was not about to abandon hope. he screamed, MY BUZZ MY BUZZ MY BUZZ and if he'd had the words he would have said, I KNOW I'M NOT CRAZY, I KNOW WHAT I HEARD. friends, there was nothing to do but to keep on driving. and hope against all hopes he'd fall back asleep. and forget. and he did. fall back asleep, that is, but he did not forget. at three in the morning, he remembered. at six in the morning, he remembered. at eight, he put a set of car keys into the hands of his very groggy father, pulled him towards the front door. BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ in back, he'd say. b a c k. slowly and with great emphasis, in case there might be any confusion as to the exact location of his beloved buzz. still, we continued to feign ignorance.

and it broke my heart just a little, but it had to be done. come christmas morning, the pay-off will be monumental. cameras will be charged and ready to go.

well, unless we pull another rookie stunt and mess that up too.