A Poignant Memory

Sean sent me an email the other day that said:

I miss my wife.

Pretty to the point. Refreshing to have someone not mince words.

I miss my wife.

Well, I miss my husband damnit.

You swear you won't do it. You won't let romance slip away. You won't let the spark flicker, but sometimes, despite your best efforts, you put the most important thing in your life off to the side. There are so many offshoots of our marriage- our daughter, our house, the business, our community, the list goes on. We both spend a huge amount of time and energy in making sure that we tend to all the new life that has sprung from our union.

How does that saying about the forest and the trees go?
We are caretaking the forest, not the trees. Or the trees and not the forest. Whatever.

I was checking my email yesterday and I had something from Travelocity:


Dear Amanda,
Travelocity FareWatcherSM, your personal airfare tracking service,
has found fare changes in 1 of your markets.

FareWatcherSM
Update Cities
Seattle/Tacoma, WA (SEA)
New Price: $183.00+Old Price: $253.00
You save: $70.00
Rochester, NY (ROC)
Fare was retrieved Tuesday, August 30, 2005, at 2:00 am.

This email awoke a torrent of emotions and memories that hit me like a brick wall.

Suddenly it was as if I was back in the Capitol Theatre basement obsessively checking my email for new messages from liv2row8@hotmail.com.
I felt the exquisitely delicious pain of pining for your crush and seeing reminders of that person in everything, from squares of pavement to passing cars to the return address on an artificial Christmas tree box.
My stomach came to life with little butterfly flutters as I remembered the sensation of dialing Sean's number and waiting to find out if he would answer, or if I would be talking to a machine.

My office, which is now plastered with pictures of Briar-Briar alone, Briar with Sean, Briar with me, more of Briar alone- is a different place than my office in Yakima. Back then I had pictures of Sean, little mementoes of our time together, and the things he would send- creative little cards, like the one he put together using the image of a nasty old cigarette with a huge amount of ash sitting in a crusty old ashtray to congratulate me on my bid to quit smoking (5 years!). I used to just gaze at the picture of Sean and I in Seattle at sunset. It was such a perfectly captured moment in time, it fed my need to be with him.

Looking at the message from Travelocity and remembering what it was like to be so far away was incredible.
It woke me up.
Sean and I will never be where we were 5 years ago, but we will always have those two people inside of us.
Each summer that we spend together, getting to know one another, growing together, we will build upon those first years of butterflies, shaky throats, and all consuming infatuation.

The passion doesn't go away, it grows up.
Instead of an electrifying look across a dance floor,
it may be a proud, look across a conference room.

Instead of trembling hugs at the airport,
it could be affectionate nuzzling at the corner coffee shop.

A night shooting pool at a bar,
may turn into a spin on the dance floor at a benefit.

Being the "it" couple of the summer,
matures into being a power couple in the community.

I know that neither of us is going to let go of our passion for life, our pursuit of achievements, personal and professional. Sean and I are going to continue to find new ways to learn about each other and to love one another. We have never had it easy, not from the days of Yakima and Rochester, to the days of lath and plaster, to the days of new business and new baby.

We don't really do easy.

Sean could have picked girls that were a lot easier than me (oh I love that on so many levels) but he didn't. I could have put my foot down about the timeline of house, business and baby, but I didn't. We are at our best when we are challenged. We like hard work. We like fighting for what we want. (Ok, sometimes it might be nice to just have it handed to us.)

And, when all is said and done, we fit.
And he's cute.
So, even though it is not the same as it was in the early days, I still have a crush on Sean.
I still watch him and feel my breath catch sometimes. I still feel a hunger. But there is more.
We created a person that exists only because we came together. From our love.
We have stayed true to our commitment to demonstrating for Briar
what it is to have parents who are in love with one another.

Instead of just kisses that we share, now we sit with Briar and say,

"Kisses. Kisses for Dad and kisses for Mom."

And then we kiss, and she looks from Sean to me and then back again, and then she cracks up.
A huge, nose crinkling, shoulder shrugging, foot kicking giggle!

"Kisses for Briar. Kisses for our family!" And she leans in and presses her mouth to Sean's. I watch as their twin-like smiles light up the room.

It's a much more satisfying kind of passion.

Make It Stop

Lump in my throat.

Shaky voice.

Palpable yearning.

Fidgety arms needing someone to hold.

Total inability to focus on anything but the ache.

I miss Briar.

I miss Sean.

I just want time with my family.

Seems too much like ships in the night.
I know I preached about squeezing the most out of life and thriving on the frenetic schedule -

ENOUGH ALREADY!

My daughter spends more time at the sitter than with me.

My husband is at the office more than he is at home.

Give me an apron, some pumps and a vacuum cleaner. Let me be the 1950's model homemaker. Let me cook dinner, clean the house and tend to my family. And let me do it all while dressed to the nines.

Whew. Sometimes painting the alternative makes you understand you don't have it so bad.

But seriously, I have a major case of the blues. I would really love to just slow down. We have another late night tonight, though Sean gave me an out and said I could skip the focus group, or bring Briar to it.

The thing of it is, I like the focus groups. I like working with Sean. I love it actually. It's how we met. It's what we do really well. Fixing up an old house, working on creative for a client, talking out difficult scenarios. I just never realized how hard having a baby would make going about with your pre-baby life.

The same things still thrill me, the same desire to challenge myself is there, the same passion and infatuation for/with Sean is there. But now I have those same feelings toward Briar. I want to approach my relationship with her, the way I do my professional life. I wan tot give her every thing I have, I want to push myself to do the best job I can.

The pie stayed the same size. Seems like somehow the universe should have allowed me (and Sean) more time. We shouldn't have to be forced to recut the pie into smaller sizes. It should be a bigger pie, allowing us to have what we had before AND Briar. Or maybe if time just moved a bit slower so that the smaller slices didn't seem quite so small.

You know, I have never really liked pie anyway. Stupid pie hole.

I guess I'll just keep putting one foot in front of the other,
looking at pictures of Briar,
and beeping Sean on the cell,
counting my blessings for what I do have.
And maybe a few trips to the bathroom to have a little cry.

Keeping Up

I don't know how we are supposed to do it.

So many things happen every day.

Night before last, Briar and I were just getting home from the grocery store.
I had her in my arms as I opened up the back of the car.
I took a step back to look up at the sky and I saw a plane.
I pointed to the plane and held Briar so she could see it as I said,

"Look, air plane. That's an airplane. Airplane."

She looked up into the sky, clearly eager to see what I was showing her.
The plane passed through a wall of clouds and burst into a stretch of blue sky.
She kicked her little legs, lifted her arm and pointed toward the plane as she exclaimed,

"Eh poe. Eh poe!"

Last night we were out in the front yard. I was watering plants, Briar was clearing the sidewalk of any stray blades of grass or fallen pieces of bark. It was a perfect shared experience, which I peppered with a bit of mama wackiness- holding the hose and jumping in the air as I lifted my knees as close to my ears as I could and squealing "Briar!"

One of our neighbors saw us and came over to say hi. Briar seems to really rise to the occasion when it comes to impressing the neighborhood. She pops right up to a standing position, gives a dazzling grin and takes a few deliberate steps.

Last night, though, last night she took a walk! She walked 15, 20, 30 steps. Just putting one foot in front of the other, teetering occasionally, but never falling. She was very proud of herself, but played it pretty cool.

So there's that, but there are still the delicious stories from the fair. Maybe delicious is the wrong word, considering the corn chowder.

My point is, if I don't take the time to write something each day, the stories are destined to be eclipsed by the other things that happen. Every moment being better than the last. Sean and I both struggle to fit it all in.

Yesterday he went to work at 6 am and got home at 8:30pm. I went in at 8 and got home at 7, not as bad, but still. We managed to have wonderful time with Briar- a bath, some reading, cuddling, and Sean actually fell asleep "putting her to bed." Quick bite of dinner at 10:30 and then to bed.

We are doing incredible work. Together. At work and at home. And in the community. It feels, pardon my French, really fucking great, to be aware in the moment as you begin to shape significant change in the place you work and live. We are contributing. Giving. Growing. Fighting for the greater good. But there are little fruit flies in the kitchen damnit. And there isn't time to have a cup of coffee together at home.

We have had this situation before, and really come to realize that it is the world we create because we enjoy it. I hope we aren't twisted and the type of people who enjoy crying misery about their lives. No. We aren't like that. We just want the absolute most out of every aspect of our lives and the reality must be that the different aspects take turns thriving.

Rich personal time.
Then a little incredible professional time.
Extraordinary recreational time.
A stellar nap, or sleep-in.

Just not all at once.

I did make a huge step forward the other day. I think everyone has the little fruit flies right now, but everyone knows that it doesn't make it any less annoying when they hover right at eye level wherever you go. Anyway, I looked at the sink which was maybe half full with dishes and then I looked at the dishwasher.

Ugh.

I knew there were clean dishes in it.

The idea of unloading those dishes so that I could load the others?

So not a good feeling. Huge weights. A thundering, "But I don't wanna!" in my head.

Groan. Trudge. Reach.

I did it. Then I scoured the countertops and poured bleach down both drains.

7 minutes later I walked out of the sparkling room I like to call my kitchen.

Oh, yeah. I did the dishes. And it felt so good!

I've been trying to do those little things. Note how I am writing here in the blog. It feels good. And I can make time for these things. Maybe -

(Oh I hate this!)

-maybe if Sean and I just picked up the dog leashes and turned off the tv, or didn't hit snooze and preset the coffee pot, or replaced a complaint about time with a plan for something, we'd make the most of our time.

I mean cleaning the kitchen only took 7 minutes, I know I have dreaded it and played the stack the dirty dishes inside one another so it looks like there aren't so many times and that I have done it for far longer than 7 minutes.

Nothing feels as good as a sparkly kitchen,
a giddy dog,
an Adirondack sunrise,
or a shared plan with your honey.

Or a good blog entry.

Amen.

Introducing soft serve ice ceam

*Disclaimer:
I don't know what has happened to me.
I think I am trying to loosen up before her 1st birthday.
Everyone has a picture of smashing and eating cake on their first birthday.
Briar has barely tasted sugar. I refuse to believe this is some sick spiral
into letting her eat crap all the time. Anyway, this is us feeding her bites
of soft serve ice cream at the fair.

Want to try this?

What was that?

Whew, that was cold!

It's actually pretty tasty..

Fun at the Washington County Fair.

Corn Shack Baby

You know those decisions you make that you ultimately look back on, and not only regret, but really wonder what the hell you were thinking?

Take a look at this photo and tell me:

Would you buy corn chowder from this man?

Later I'll try and describe Sean's experience with $4 and a serious leap of faith.

I still shake with laughter too much to really be able to write about it.

Not Open For Business, Yet

Ever feel like you are being tested?
As if the corn chowder trauma wasn't bad enough,
Sean had an incredible experience with this innocent
looking calzone shack. This too, will be written about,
but, to use a phrase the woman working in the shack uttered,

"Not for some 20 minute" -

which you will find out is far longer than the 20 minute(s)
you or I would imagine.

Until I finish the story...

.. and do the Washington County Fair trip justice,
a few photos of Briar to feed the soul.

Goofing off with mom in the morning

Our little ham.

I Love Biscuits

Briar had a teething biscuit in each hand and just
bounced around in the chair all morning - much
to my picture taking delight.
This picture shows her in the midst of an impromptu
set of squats.

Up high, outside, close to the noise.
People driving by keep referring to me as Dad's supervisor.
Life doesn't get much better than this.

The mail came today.
There was a big box.
Bigger than Ella.
Longer than my stroller.

I stood next to it and flipped it over and over.
Mom said it was mine.
Mine!

I helped Dad open the box.
I really like the box.
You can open and shut it.
Dad took this thing out of it.
It's gonna have to be pretty cool for me to like it as much as my big, cardboard box.

Turns out it's as cool as the box.

Quickie

Briar said, "Bye" this morning.

Granted she was crawling toward the dog dish as she said it, but I was also leaving, so even though it might not have been intentional, I'm giving her credit for saying, "Bye."

Had a kind of rough night. Well, ok, maybe you don't consider waking up to repeated head butts and kicks to the face a rough night, but this gal does. And no, Sean and I weren't having a wrestling match. Briar was having some "issues" and being the brilliant child that she is, she figured if she was up and restless, why shouldn't everyone else be up and restless.

That being said, Sean said I fell asleep first. I never fall asleep first. I fantasize, as I lie awake listening to Sean's even breathing while he sleeps, of falling asleep before him. I dream of Sean asking me questions and giving those deliciously garbled and sleep drugged answers,

"Hmm, wassat, ahm..." rolling over and falling back asleep.

That never happens. I am always on the receiving end of that. It's so lonely.

Apparently, and unfairly, last night that was me, except I wasn't even able to do the sleep mumblings. Not really fair that when I finally fall asleep first I'm not awake enough to enjoy it.

Well, as I said, a quickie. I am off to grab a bite and to feed Briar.

Happy Thursday wish it were Friday to one and all.

-A

The Roles We Play

In my experience, relationships inevitably catapult people into roles.

One person ends up being the passive player, the other the dominant.

One person the worrier, the other the cool as a cucumber, calm one.

You don't necessarily choose your role, it just sort of happens since it is impossible for both people to play the same role...actually it's probably possible, two passive aggressive worriers could be together, but would any of us really know? I think we'd all stay miles away. And the pairings of two dominant, mouthy, doers, again, I think any sane person would keep their distance.

So, we go through our lives, with our many different relationships, playing the roles that we have been given and for the most part accepted.

Way too much dancing around in getting to my point this morning.

In my relationship with Sean I am the worrier. I worry about the finances, I worry about the cleanliness of the floor, keeping the fridge filled with the right stuff, washing Briar's cup, the carpet, etc. I definitely help the Magee family meet the worry quota. Sean does worry, but it's about things like the safety of our wallets when we are in a big city, or that I walk on the side of the sidewalk away from traffic, or maintaining the appropriate air pressure in our tires.

We do pretty well for the most part. Every once in a while I make a futile attempt to buck the mantle of "worrier" from my annoyed shoulders. I'll defy Sean to track and pay the Nimo bill each month so that he too will give a darn when there are 6 fans and the AC blowing throughout our house, and the dryer door adjar light illuminating the bathroom. (See, he gets annoyed sometimes when I tip toe behind him turning off appliances as he leaves the room. I don't think we need air circulation when we aren't there to enjoy it. He chooses to disagree.)

The other thing I do is implore him to understand the reasoning behind my seemingly mad behavior -

"Honey please take off your shoes,"

I say as I knee walk across the room to keep my shoes off the floor,

"Don't you see that I am trying to keep Briar from crawling on whatever fecal matter, vagrant bile, and general nastiness we have picked up on the bottoms of our shoes?"

The cruel reality is that I often blur into some crazed housewife caricature. When I try to poke fun at one of Sean's roles I sound like a total harridan- playful jabs morph into nasty rants, or so it begins to feel when he looks at me with a hurt expression. Then when I try to project the same hurt when he teases me about coupons or alerting a checker at the grocery store to an incorrect price it feels like I am being over-sensitive, and was the .55 really worth the 20 minutes at the checkstand? I try to twist it and laugh at myself, but what can I say, sometimes I just don't want to admit that my worrying makes me ridiculous, just like, I might add, Sean doesn't want to admit that some of his stuff makes him seem like a stereotypical burping, slovenly man.

There is more to us than the cartoony aspects of our "roles" damnit.

The other night I got such a treat when Sean made a suggestion that was totally absurd, but made with the best of intentions. See, he was trying to make a wallet friendly suggestion. Oh this is just too delicious! I am totally allowed to laugh at this, because it is the same sort of thing he unabashedly teases and ridicules me for! Hah!

My sister is coming to visit sometime in September. She really wants to spend some time at the lake. This is great, because Sean wants to do the same thing, but hasn't really been able to say that this summer as there has been so much to do at Trampoline and at home. He has taken to planning the outing with great gusto, talking about the different islands that are available, things to do, etc. Last night he was thinking out loud about the trip and said,

"We may not be able to stay overnight, huh?"

And I agreed, thinking it might be too much trying to schlep all the different things and cope with the baby etc.

"What it we camped on shore and then just paddled out to an island to play? We could leave the food and supplies in the car so we wouldn't have to hike around with them. We could set up the tent. Oh. Your sister won't fit in the 2 man tent we have. Hmm."

I thought we were going to arrive back at the plan of not staying overnight, but then the light bulb flashed on for Sean.

"She can sleep in the car!" he exclaimed with a look of incredible achievement and satisfaction.

"What?" I asked.

"Your sister. We can set her up in the car. Fold the seats down. It'll be perfect!"

"What do you mean? She'll sleep in the car?"

"Ya. We'll be in the tent and she can be set up in the car." he explained as if I were slow.

"You're kidding right?" he looked at me totally bewildered, "I went to stay with my sister and her husband this summer. They took me to the lake and we camped. Well they camped, I was back in the parking lot in the car, " that'll be a great story I said. "She can't stay in the car, that's awful."

"Well, I'm just trying to save us from spending $300 on a tent."

I was so touched that he was being sensitive to my need to stay on a budget. This clearly demonstrated to me how ridiculous some of my cost trimming tactics must appear and that he loves me just the same, sometimes even more so. It may seem as if I am all alone in worrying sometimes, but now I know that Sean is with me. He may not cheer on my coupon clipping or my obsessive de-germing, but he trusts me to do it and silently appreciates it (sometimes). No one ever said he loved his roles all the time.


I suspect that my sister's visit is going to ultimately have us buying either a tent or a kayak. Not expenses I had planned on, but in this world of opposing roles and complementary roles, there is the need for balance. For every time one person "wins" there must be another chance for the other person to "win". I think so long as we don't blame one another for the roles we have, we can learn to celebrate each other's victories. I know I'll have fun with a kayak or a tent, just like I know Sean will appreciate not lying on Glen Street scum when he's watching the World Series.

No one said growing up was going to be glamorous, might as well try and make it humorous.

Ah, the love hate relationship with carbonation. 

We discovered that Briar prefers a table by the window. This picture makes me feel like she's already 10 and I am looking back on "the early days." Oh the ache. 

Here she is with Captain Paulie. 

She is simply my life. 

Saturday we took Briar for her first sail.  

Friends

I have often said that I don't really have friends. I think I have viewed "friends" as being the kids you grew up around.
You live across the street, walk to school together, spend the summer competing for the most bruises and the latest curfew.

What was that curfew thing about anyway?

You wanted to be able to stay out later than your friend, but then once your friend's mom made that last call to come in that carried a serious, "You better or else" tone to it, you were bored. That big pile of dirt you'd been hiding behind as the sun went down and you milked those last few minutes of play time, suddenly seemed like nothing more than a big pile of dirt. The sounds of summer became just a little bit scary as you sat in the shadows of the dirt pile...

Was that a branch breaking under the weight of a stranger's step?

What was that hiss?

Did something crack?

Sometimes you were lucky because your mom would call for you and you'd save face.

I'm just going in 'cause my mom is calling. I could stay out here if I really wanted to.


The friend I had with the early curfew?

Lost. We drifted apart when I moved in middle school.
She's gone to the same place all my other middle school friends have gone.
I can remember that time so clearly. Struggling between tomboy and boy-crazy.
Perhaps the memories are even sweeter for not having been blurred with the angst of high school.

My high school friends?

They were lost before high school ended. My first three years of high school were the all american storybook- sports, school newspaper & yearbook, more sports and general rule following (for the most part) and innocuous sleepovers. I think some people remain friends through high school, on to college, and some beyond. I went through a shift the summer after my junior year. By graduation my "best friend" was pointedly inviting anyone within a 6" (yes six inches, it was quite comical) radius of me to her house for a party. I was not invited. After school specials have always been so cheesey because unless you are actually living in that high school moment, the things that occur are so totally preposterous they cannot possibly be accepted as real.

College?

Yes, but no lasting friendships.

So, it has been easy to say, "Ah, I don't really have a lot of friends."

I have learned in the last few weeks that I have been very wrong.

I have friends.

I, in fact, have a lot of friends.

And you know what else?

They are really cool people.

I have a friend in London. She doesn't live there.
Nope. She has accepted a job, after a sobering experience of being wooed and pursued, then hired and then fired all in the matter of a couple of weeks.

So, there she is, being told,
"Ya know what? On second thought, you, ah, you just don't have the right vibe. Ya, we just aren't feeling it. No hard feelings though. Here's two weeks pay, don't let the door smack you in the ass on your way out."

And now? She's in London. She's working, playing and just generally coming to realize that the universe will lift you up, drop you down, lift you up again and then show you that it all happened for a reason. I am lucky enough to have her writing to me, to share her stories. Some letters are breathless and optimistic, others are sad. She has a lot going on and it is such an honor to be included in this incredible time of endings and new beginnings. Such an honor to be her friend.

I have another friend. She is in Brooklyn. We met at WTF. When I left theatre in 2002, she was just beginning to really make things happen for herself in the city. She has been working tirelessly ever since and is now on the cusp of achieving a toe hold at the top of her field.

BOOM!

Cupid.

When Harry Met Sally

Childhood next door neighbor all grown up.

Toss in a little Sleepless in Seattle - He's in NM, she is in NYC.

Fast forward - she's talking grad school outside of NYC.

"I want the relationship. I want kids. I want a baby laughing in the background."

So from this friend I hear about love happening, priorities shifting. About getting to the top and realizing that she did a damn good job getting there and that it is ok to go after what she wants. She wants the happy ending. She is the person who so eloquently described at our wedding the moment when she knew Sean and I were heading for a happy ending. She'll have hers, and as her friend, I'll get to be there to weep tears of joy for her.

Then there are my couple friends. New parents. New babies. Carter and Sebastien.
Pregnancies, parenting fears, pride, joy, awe.

My friends from work. Cheering me on at the office and at special events. Teasing me with, "Oh young one".
Lifting me up on days when I feel my heart will break from leaving Briar.

Business friends. Sean's partner, Derek, his wife Paula. It's not always easy, but the bond of "being in the trenches together" - we have worked hard and said kind and biting things to one another. Travelled from strangers, to co-workers, to partners and friends.

My Yakima people. My family, my friends, my memories. My sister. My mom. My grandfather. My Steve. My techies and my Foudnation pals.

And of course there is Sean. My friend. My cheerleader. My critic and my defender. My coach. My guide. My husband and my daughter's dad. My lover and my dearest friend.

I don't know quite when my life became so rich with friends. We build these lives for ourselves, picking up ittle bits that will come with us as we move from town to town and job to job. A co-worker here, a friend there. Before you know it you have people coming from out of town, emails from Sout Africa, invites to the Berkshires, get togethers on holidays.

You realize - no,

I realize that my friends are people that are with me every day in the stories I tell, the words that I use and the music that I listen to. They are with me as I sit on my front porch remembering times we have shared. I will never have friends that I spend every 2nd Tuesday with and who will be able to talk about the crotchety swiss neighbor on Onyx Street, but I will have friends who are no less significant for having come in to my life at whatever time the universe decided to "drop them" in my lap.

I am so grateful as I sit here tonight and reflect on the many people who are a part of my life.

A special; "Hello" and "I love you" to Anna and Tet.

And an 11:11 kiss to my Sean.

And Then She Kissed Me

The memories of this first year:

The first squeeze, our first nap cuddled together, her first smile as she lay on the changing table, the sound of her first laughter on Christmas Eve, celebrating her accomplishment of rolling over, watching with our dear friends as Sean cradled her in his arms and she said, "Da da",
sitting in the car hearing "mama" come from the back seat, huge, wet, open mouth kisses, bear hugs followed by giggles, bedtime stories,
graduating to big girl food, pointing to things, taking her first steps...

It's been just amazing. Beyond anything either of us ever imagined.

And then she kissed us.

Last night we were saying goodnight. I was going to take Briar up for a story, a bit of nursing and then bed. As we usually do, Briar and I went over to Sean to say goodnight.

Sean said, "Night-night Briar." She leaned into him and pressed her lips against his.

I squeezed her and smiled as Sean and I share done of those delicious
"We're her parents, she's our baby, isn't she brilliant?!" looks.

Then she leaned in and gave him another kiss. This transition from super wide open mouth to closed mouth kiss came out of nowhere. I have loved the other kisses too. It's am incredible feeling to have Briar demonstrate affection like that. But when she leaned over to me last night and kissed me -

Oh my god!

It was like every good feeling I have ever had before wrapped into one huge good feeling, multiplied by 10 and then experienced in a ray of golden sunshine.

I know I'm laying it on thick, but do you understand that my daughter kissed me last night?

Unprompted she leaned over and pressed her forehead against mine, touched her lips to mine, smiled, pulled back and looked at me with those brilliant blue Briar eyes.

In that moment I experienced the sensation of falling in love.

This little person inhabits every part of my soul.

Thank you God for Briar.

I remember having to prop her up with pillows and blankets to take her picture.
She's so strong and mobile now, I just have to hope she's in the mood to sit for me.

Who am I kidding?

Briar loves the camera and, as is evident in her pictures, the camera loves her.

Abbie, the vegan aunt, seems to bring out the herbivore in Briar.

A rose in Yakima.
A sunflower in California.

Briar is looking forward to a visit from Abbie this fall...

Maple leaf anyone?

Briar is seriously happy to be holding a large,
unedited by my protective fingers, piece of food
and feeding herself. She likes to share too!

I Take It Back

I take back every time I ever dissed someone for baby-talking.

I take back every time I rolled my eyes at someone saying breathlessly, "My child blah blah..."

I take back any thought I ever had about "just being a mom".

Having a child and being a mom changes you.

You become breathless with devotion.
You forget rules (and establish new ones).
You will modulate your voice any which way to see another smile travel across your child's face. You find that there is no face too silly to make, no accomplishment too small to shout from the rooftop.

Witnessing Briar learn to stand on her own and take steps -first one and a half shaky steps, then three, and now, every once in a while six or seven in a row, has rivaled anything NASA has ever done. The Olympics, the Boston Marathon, the Red Sox vs Yankees World Series don't hold a candle to the wonder of Briar's first year.

She'll be sitting on the floor and then begin to push herself up. Her sturdy little legs shake as she pushes her way up, her feet spread shoulder width apart, her torso stretching out in front of her, looking for all the world as if she'll pitch forward, and then with a quick snap, her torso is again above her legs, which are now straightened and still. She stretches her arms out and cranes her neck, surveying the view from this new height. I realize that I've held my breath until she's up.

I am so proud of myself for letting her do things.
Sometimes that means letting her bump her head, or smack down on her diaper padded backside.
Sometimes it means letting her splash in the dog water dish until she tips it over completely soaking the floor and leaving a puddle that spans the entire kitchen.
Through this freedom she has learned that she needs to move out from under the coffee table. She knows she needs to plant her bottom first to absorb the fall.

And yes, she knows that, well, spilling the dog's water is FUN.

BIG FUN!

So fun we'll do it every chance we get!

Gotta say, I am also proud of being able to keep a sense of humor. The truth of the matter is that you do get tired. You do get cranky. You do get frustrated. But that doesn't make you bad. It makes you human. And as much as I'd like to be perfect, I think Briar'll be a lot better off having a "real" mom.

So, at 11 o'clock at night, when I am desperate for sleep,
when the air conditioner doesn't seem to be touching the oppressive heat,
when I know it's going to be trouble getting my contacts to stay in my burning, red eyes,
when Briar sits between us in bed, grinning, and pinching her Dad's body saying,
"Bu-zibzy, bu-zibzy!" I laugh.

A Few of My Favorite Things

I love it when my grandfather turns me on to an author or a song.

We'll be in the middle of an ordinary conversation about very ordinary things and he will quote some little snippet from a poem or song.
That's Robert Louis Stevenson, I think.

Do you know Oscar Hammerstein? Great lyrics.

A few weeks back we were talking and I was sharing a story about having something remind me of his visit after Briar's birth. Feeling him in the house all over again.

"These foolish things, " he said.

"Huh?" I mouthed. Did I sound silly?

"These foolish things. Oh, how the ghost of you clings. It's a song. Very good. D you know it?"

I didn't. But I knew I would seek it out. What I wouldn't give to have my grandfather's gift for language! Luckily I have him. I am posting the song lyrics, then I'll write some of my favorite things, though I am no Hammerstein.


A cigarette that bears a lipstick's traces,
An airline ticket to romantic places,
And still my heart has wings...
These foolish things remind me of you.

A tinkling piano in the next apartment,
Those stumbling words that told you what my heart meant,
A fairground's painted swings...
These foolish things remind me of you.

You came, you saw,
You conquered me.
When you did that to me,
I knew somehow this had to be.

The winds of march that made my heart a dancer,
A telephone that rings,
And who's to answer?
Oh, how the ghost of you clings...
These foolish things remind me of you.

The first daffodil and long excited cables,
And candle lights on little corner tables,
And still my heart has wings...
These foolish things remind me of you.

The park at evening when the bell has sounded,
The 'ile-de-france' with all the gulls around it,
The beauty that is spring's...
These foolish things remind me of you.

How strange, how sweet
To find you still,
These things are dear to me,
They seem to bring you near to me.

The sigh of midnight trains in empty stations,
Silk stockings tossed aside, dance invitations.
Oh, how the ghost of you clings!
These foolish things remind me of you...

These foolish things remind me of you.

Just a few of my favorite things-

The face my daughter makes when I swab her ears after a bath -
she becomes totally still, places one hand over mine,
opens her mouth ever so much, stares straight ahead as a smile flirts with her face.

The feeling of Briar's hand tracing circles on my skin as she nurses.

Briar's breath.

Fresh sheets.

Cuddling in bed after I have already gotten up, showered and dressed.

Coffee I didn't make.

Briar's laugh.

The smell of the skin on Sean's forehead.

An unexpected email from Sean.

Milk and cookies before bed.

That first moment at the airport.

Holding hands downtown.

Watching Briar kiss Sean.

Splashes and laughter echoing in the tub.

A whiff of dryer sheets on a walk.

Stopping Briar's cries by holding her.

The smack of a softball hitting the inside of a mitt.

Making Sean laugh.

Cracking wise.

A crisp white top.

Quilts.

Family time.

Running till it hurts.

Laughing till it hurts.

Writing in my blog.

Trading compliments with my grandpa.

So many things.

Must explore another language, because the two I know cannot begin to describe the feelings I have for this exquisite being. 

More later

Briar took her first steps on Thursday!

Who Would Play Me?

There are moments in a relationship when one can know with absolute certainty that life has inexplicably shifted.

There is a realization that, well, something is just a bit off.

You have the presence of mind to think:

"Ah, excuse me world, when did I step onto stage 23?

I know I didn't wake up in a sitcom or romantic comedy this morning.
Yet, at this very moment, I know that I must be exisiting in lines born from the mind of screenwriter.
People don't really have these conversations, we just laugh at them in theatres. Right?"

This happened to me the other night. It was strange because Sean and I don't generally play these sort of "what if" games.

Whoops, I can hear Sean begging to argue that point.

Ok, so I may, on occasion, pose a question to Sean that is pretty out there. It's a way of sort of entertaining on a budget. Imagining if you will.

But, we don't talk about celebrities that we are attracted to, or I don't know, we just don't do what we did.

I don't remember how it started, but isn't that the way it goes when you enter the Twilight Zone?
No one thinks, hey, wait a minute, I'm entering the Twilight Zone. They just turn down a street or close the refrigerator door and POOF -

You in the Twilight Zone now, fool!

So, there we were, doing whatever we were doing and Sean says:

"You know in college we used to cast actors to play us in a movie."

He proceeded to share with me the various actors that they had "cast" as the parts of his close group of rowing buddies.

Knowing the friends I was able to sort of nod my head on a few of the casting selections, others I thought were maybe not so right on and I shared as much.

Then he said:

"You know who they thought should play me?"

Now, you, as the objective reader of this scenario are probably talking to the screen:

No! Amanda, don't go there! You are heading into the-

Too late, I bit.

"No, who?" I asked.

"Matthew Perry."

"Hmmm, I don't think that fits."

Then we talked a bit about how he's changed since college. Maybe he was a bit cockier, carried himself differently back then.

Maybe, I agreed.

"Ok, then. Who do you think could play me?"

If you haven't figured it out, let me tell you, I have discovered that while most men do not ask if something makes them look fat, it should be explicitly understood that the "who would you cast as me in a movie" question is the male equivalent of the fat question.

"I don't know."

"I know who would play you." And he said this as if I had failed by not having thought this through before - you know, he remembered my birthday, complimented my hair cut, and oh yeah, he took the time to figure out who he'd cast in the life story of Amanda.

"Jennifer Garner" he said triumphantly and with more than a little smugness.

"Hah! You said she was manly and unattractive. Are you saying I am manly and unattractive?"

"No way. I only said that because you looked like you were going to make a snide comment about how she and her chest were costars in the movie. She's definitely attractive. And you guys both have the strong, defiant chin."

I was quiet. He was right. About the chin and the chest.

Sometimes in movies you really do have to sort of endure long stretches of film devoted to something that, let's be honest, doesn't have a whole hell of a lot to do with the plot. And, frankly, as you are sitting in a dirt and baby food stained tank top, with your hair in a messy topknot, you don't want to watch with your husband. Or watch your husband watch. Even the most secure people can be brought to squirms in their seat by this stuff regardless of the level of interest in it by their partner.

He watched me. Literally, over the next hour as we watched tv and ate dinner he looked over periodically, his eyes boring into me as if he could penetrate my thoughts and figure out who I would cast.

"I really don't know." I said. He looked at me in a forlorn way and I wracked my brain.

"Ok, this may seem odd, but here's someone who I think is attractive, appealing and very like you. He has a very affable way, great comedic timing and all american good looks. Jason Bateman."

"Jason Bateman?!"

"Ya. Jason Bateman." I was pretty proud of myself. It was a good casting choice!

"Jason Bateman, he's like what, some 80's tv dork. Claim to fame, brother of Justine? What show was he even on?"

"I don't know, but he has a great show on the air now, he's handsome and funny." I honestly thought is was a compliment. I like Jason Batemen.

"Sheesh, I don't even rate an a-lister."

"Sean, he is a-list. His show is great, they have the series on dvd."

"He doesn't do movies."

"So?"

"So I'm a mini-series? I'm not a movie. I am just some tv actor?"

"No! You are my wonderful husband who is too complex and too incredible to be played by one hollywood person. Beside, Matthew Perry is a tv actor too!"

"I cast a movie star for you."

"No you didn't. Jennifer Garner is most definitely a tv actress. Daredevil and Electra weren't exactly blockbusters."

"Ya, but she got great reviews in 13 Going on 30." he said with an amazingly straight face and sincere look.

"13 Going on 30? Are you serious? Do you hear yourself? We haven't even seen that movie. I think we flew on a plane that showed that and you didn't even take the complimentary earphones."

After that, even Sean had to laugh. The subject dropped. But much like the one time a man says, "As a matter of fact those pants do make your ass look fat" it came back to haunt me.

A few hours later we were in bed reading. Briar was asleep and we were side by side in bed sharing the same schedule for the first night in many weeks. It was nice. His arm was beside mine, every so often I would shift my body and just enjoy the sensation of being together, the little chills as the hairs on his arm tickled me.

"You just couldn't think of a single famous person to play me!"

"Honey, Jason Bateman is famous."

"You couldn't have picked John Cusak? Or Zach Braff?"

"Sean, John Cusack is like 40 something, he's way too old to play you! And Zach Braff? He's too quirky. And not nearly attractive enough!"

"Well?"

"Sean, there aren't any men the right age to play you."

Silence.

"C'mon, name some. Name two. Give me two actors the right age to play you."

Silence, but with a grin.

"Ok Sean. Ed Burns."

"The Brothers McMullen guy? Ok. I like that. I could see that one."

"Actually, babe he's too old." I thought some more.

He went back to his book and his words about not rating an a-list actor hung in the air. And then, inspiration struck.

"Aha! Ok, I got one."

His book dropped to his side and he looked at me, daring me to come at him with another lame candidate.

"Jake Gylenhall. He's handsome in a very real way. Gentle, intelligent, appealing demeanor. Playful. Nice build. Yup, Jake Gylenhall."

"All Right! Now you're talking."

And with that, we closed the door to Magee Central Casting.

Phew.

Retreat...

More like un-treat.

Sorry, had an all day retreat. Bored to tears.

As I type I am nervous, seems like every day there is another story about some promising, young professional in the city that lost everything when the blog that they kept was found out by the higher-ups and the poor soul had written the unspeakable about work. I'm not saying I hate my co-workers or boss, far from it. But eight hours in the "education room" of a bank that was built in the late 60's? Discussing "what drives the economic engine"?

Ay yai yai.

Anyway, between the retreat and the carpentry work around our house there has not been a spare minute to write.

So, it will wait for another day, the things that have happened in the past few days, from the ridiculous to the sublime, may never make it to screen. We'll see how I feel. For now, bed, my husband, a book, a snoozing Briar, and the ac. And only just 9 o'clock.