Saturday, March 21, 2015

dear james

Dear James,
you're away. on business. the first trip that you have had to go on in months. before, you were traveling often around this time of the year, and you kept telling me it won't always be like this. i remember you leaving for a week when finn was a month old. everything still felt so new with finn, i was shaking when you pulled out of the driveway. leaving the two of us standing by the front door of our new little house, i was so nervous watching you go.
now you go away and finn and i fall into our routine. we've been keeping ourselves busy. especially with the opening of the studio, finn has been such a trooper. getting dropped off with your parents, then picked up and dropped off again with my parents. he has such a good spirit, going along with flow, and usually crying each time he has to leave somewhere. he's just like me, terrible with saying good bye. i looked at him in the rearview mirror this morning and could tell he was thinking about something, he makes the same face you do when you're deep in thought. your eyes narrow and your get a little crease between your eyebrows. "mama" he said softly, "dada will come back to you. he will come back to you."
finn has been doing something new the past few days. he's been very concerned about how i am feeling. driving in the car a slow song came on and he asked, "does this song make you sad, mama?" or last night after we got off the phone with you he came up to me and said "you can't kiss dada. are you sad?" it's a new thing with him, asking about how i am feeling. i kind of love it, too. you know how i always like to describe my feelings. you said i'm the only person you know who thinks about the way they are feeling as much as i do. i can't help it.
i've noticed something else with him the past few days. he's turning more into a little boy and less like a toddler. last night i kissed him good, i really pressed my lips hard into his smooth little cheek, and squeezed him. he pulled away and i watched him wipe the kiss off. and you know about him wanting to do everything on his own. this morning, while rushing to get out of the house, he had to walk down each step on his own. every time i held my hand out for him to grab it he pushed it away. in the midst of trying to run out of the house, he made me slow down and watch him, foot by foot, make his way down those twelve steps. he doesn't want to hold my hand more often now. it's kind of a shock.
but then there are times when he still seems like our baby. like early this morning, when he came into our bed at four, and moved in close to me and whispered, "snuggle me, mama" and i wrapped my arms around him and pulled him even closer. he fell asleep and when i looked at his face i pictured him when he was just a couple months old. his little belly rising and falling slowly.
it's hard to believe he'll be three years old in a few months.
i hear him waking up from his nap now. any second he'll start to yell for me. over and over until he hears me close to his door. i haven't told you, but each time he wakes up, unsure of what day it is, he's asked if you are home. "is dada back home now?" he says, his eyes wide and serious. "not yet, but soon" I tell him. we can't wait.

Thursday, March 12, 2015

crib talk

lying with finn, inside his crib, has now become a mandatory part of his sleep routine. we snuggle together on the little mattress and i repeat myself telling him to be quiet and close his eyes until he falls asleep and i somehow climb out of the position i was forcing myself in and sneak out of his room, tip-toeing around the creaky floorboards that i have mentally marked.

and he does the same thing at bedtime now. he says loudly, "ok, i have to make my choice" meaning he has to decide if it is going to be me or his dad who is going to lay with him that night. he usually picks me, but some nights he picks his dad and i give them both a kiss goodnight because i know that james will without a doubt fall asleep in his crib and I'll have to sneak in and wake him up the try not to laugh loud while he pulls himself out of the tiniest bed he's mastered sleeping in. i don't know how he fits. but when i see them on the monitor, james wrapped around finn, the blanket over the top of them, finn's head pressing against j's cheek, it almost looks like that bed was made for the two of them to share. they actually look comfortable.

this afternoon inside the crib, finn turned over and looked at me, his eyes big and a darker shade of blue, and quietly asked, "mama, can we talk about stuff?" he then went on a ten minute ramble;
"where did this bed come from actually? who made this? it sure is hard... i don't want my snowman to melt...  if a dog jumps on me, will you protect me? will dada protect me? will all my peoples protect me? what does protect mean? oh yes, yes, yes, yes, right. remember fishing?" and then he turned over, closed his eyes while hugging his little stuffed dog, boo, and fell asleep.

Monday, March 9, 2015


Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front
by Wendell Berry

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.
So, friends, every day do something
that won’t compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.
Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered he has not destroyed.
Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.
Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.
Listen to carrion — put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?
Go with your love to the fields.
Lie easy in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn’t go. Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.