rainier sunny

is that an oxy moron?

Obviously since it was sunny, I took a million and a half more photos on this day to Mt. Rainier. Oh, it was gorgeous. I'll just post a few here, but if you click on them you'll find even more in my flickr.

This was the view as we arrived and headed down onto a new trail.

The meadows were in full bloom and were absolutely beautiful.

And of course again Bella insisted on hiking herself, and had us hopping around trying to keep her from wandering off a cliff.

Once she fell asleep, I was able to crouch down and get a few close ups of the flowers.

Then the mountain came out in all its cloudy splendor on our hike back up. The clouds were just gorgeous in the sunlight, and totally brought out the icy sides of the mountain.

When we hiked out, we were really surprised to find clouds had overtaken the lodge. It was downright misty.

As we drove out, Dave snapped a few more shots. I liked the warm feeling of this one, so I processed it a bit to bring it out. Please ignore the fingerprints on the lens. I had no idea until I got home, but I should have guessed since Bella likes to play with lens caps.

This brings out exactly how I felt driving out in the sunset. And you can see how low the river is. We've only had a few days' rain this summer, and this was after two days that it rained. It's almost twice as full as it had been 6 days earlier.

As usual, we had a great time, took too many photos, and can't wait to go back!

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the catch up letter

Dear Bella,

So I skipped a month. I skipped a month because, wow, things have been busy, and you've been a trooper. I have asked so much of you over the past month, and you've been right with me, hanging in there, taking it like a champ. Last month I was supposed to attend our friend MJ's birth. Help her out and take photos. She finally had her boy 15 days after he was due, and you spent the weekend with Daddy. The whole weekend. It kind of messed up our night weaning, and you certainly showed me how much you missed me when I got back, but your willingness to try a weekend without me, and Daddy's big help let MJ's baby come into the world in a peaceful, healthy way. I can't thank you enough.

And then what did we do the day after Thomas was born? We flew across the country. Guess it was a good thing you got so much Daddy time. We flew, then drove, then drove some more, then a bit more, and holy cow, just a bit more for the fun of it, and then we flew back home. You're used to visiting people. In fact, if we don't go out every day so you can flirt with someone else, you get quite grumpy.

I would never have put you through a trip like this if I didn't think you'd enjoy meeting with 20 or 30 new people every day. Twenty people who know you, but who(m) you have never met. People who say hi and want to hold you and already love you, and you will never know how much you brighten their lives. You do. And you beam and let them love you and soak it up and learn to wave bye-bye which you've never done before, and then let me throw you back in the car. Some cheerios, the Itsy Bitsy Spider, a few songs playing on our roadtrip soundtrack, and we're off. You are amazing, child.

And while we were in Massachusetts getting you baptized, you got that last bottom tooth. Then I took you home and it was over 100 degrees all week, and you decided this would be a great time to get your molars. We've been home for two weeks and you now have all four molars. Just in time for another heat wave to hit. Please keep the rest of your teeth underground a little longer, thanks.

I feel bad writing this, like I probably forgot something. You're growing so fast and two months is everything and a blink. You're in love with your stuffed animals and you're realizing with squeals that everyone has toes. You point to your butt when you need to poo, you use the sign "more" to say you're hungry, then snub your nose at food, say nyo... and turn on your heel and go. Because you can. There's so much you can do. You have so many wonderful quirks right now. And I can't think of any to tell you about. I'll write them down as they come. That'll be for another day, I'll make up for missing a month, I promise.

Love, mama

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Visit to the mountain(s)

Welllll, I have a whole bunch of posts ready, but since I can't access all my photos, they're sorta... in limbo. What's a story without a photo?

But a few weeks back we went up to Mt. Rainier, and had a blast on a foggy, cool day. I could not get over how tiny Bella seemed on that giant mountain.

Bella had so much fun climbing up the mountain, which however, made for a very slow climb for the rest of us. She fell asleep on my back half way up, and conveniently woke up long enough to warm up and play with the stuffed animals in the lodge. I'm very used to squatting down into strange positions to take photos while carrying her, but I think people are still surprised. I had to get shots of my favorite high mountain wild flowers (the paintbrush). It's been a while since I've seen them, and they don't grow very close to the path.

During our picnic outside, we had a some sweet company, though I think we were the only ones to notice.

One of Bella's favorite activities is walking back and forth on gravel, so she was in seventh heaven in the parking lot. My camera was acting up, missing shots here and there, so I had Dave keep asking Bella to say "Skyyy!!" (which is what she does when she wants us to lift her up to the sky) so I have lots of cute shots of her goofing around to make up for the one I missed.

On our way back down the hill, I made Dave hop out of the car and take photos at every opportunity. Not too shabby, if I do say so myself!

Stay tuned for part two when we go back the following week - and the mountain makes an appearance!

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Another nursing adventure

By now we really have nursed everywhere. I'm not too concerned about where I nurse, but I do wonder about the thoughts of the people around me. I find it's less awkward to not ask for permission or warn company, since a negative response won't keep us from nursing. Most of the company I keep already knows that we're liable to nurse at any moment, and it usually goes unnoticed.

On our last day in New England, we stopped in New Hampshire to see my cousin and his two kids, a 6 year old daughter and 4 year old son. After an afternoon swim, we all came inside to wind down with some marshmallows, which Bella wanted to wash down with milk. I had already nursed her once without comment and figured this time it would go the same.

And then. And then Eric asked if she was sleeping, so I said, No, she's eating. Of course, then his little girl wants to know what's she's eating, so I correct myself and say, She's drinking milk.

But what's under your shirt?

Nothing, it's just me, she's drinking.

No, but WHAT is under your shirt? (At this point she's trying to look at Bella's mouth to see what in the world she could be drinking and even if it hadn't been five years since I last saw Eric, I still wouldn't know how much anatomy his kids know. Can I possibly put the poor dad in a more awkward position?)

All the adults are giggling away like middle schoolers in a sex-ed class and, oh the poor child, she's getting frustrated, wondering what she's missing out on. I look at my mom, and then Eric, who sighs, takes a deep breath, and puts on his Super Dad cape. I wish I could remember exactly how he explained it, but it was great. He told her that nursing was the reason women have breasts. He explained how some babies drink from bottles, and some drink from boobs. Her mommy had a hard time at the beginning and decided to use a bottle instead.

It was a fantastic explanation and I was proud Eric handled it so well, not to mention it was a great example for me to follow when this comes up again. I don't think I can do the moment justice. It was too funny, and probably even worse from his perspective. I figured angels might start singing and the furry forest animals would start to dance, but instead, his words were followed by, EEEEWWW! I don't want to do that!!

Well, we tried. Luckily, she's got a few years to think on it.

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homecoming

It's a terrible thing always living somewhere beautiful and wishing I were somewhere else. It should be called chronic nostalgia. It's a condition manageable with a wonderful family and frequent vacationing. When I was seven, my family up and moved from hot sunny Arizona to a (then) quaint(ish) town Massachusetts. It was nice and suburban, and we lived on the most rural outskirt of it. It was the kind of town where it's hard not to know your neighbors, and while our schools were not small, many of our teachers had also grown up in the very classrooms where they now teach.

I had a blast growing up there, though I always missed Arizona. It wasn't until I was fourteen and we moved to Pennsylvania that I truly realized how much I identified with my home in Massachusetts. That will always be my favorite house, a screened in porch on the second story, overlooking a bog alive with the chorus of peeper frogs, our very own pool, and lots of land for tree climbing and adventures. Not to mention, we were a short walk away from a truly beautiful cranberry bog, and just a mile down the road was a state park for biking, hiking, and ice cream eating.

Bringing Bella "home" with me was a dream come true. It was absolutely wonderful to have her meet all of my friends and family back in the North East. It was also a little melancholy, since I found myself visiting all my favorite memory spots, saying, "well, twenty years ago this was just a little ice cream stand." Way to date yourself, Shawna.

I frequently wonder if moving out to the Pacific Northwest was the right decision. Particularly in the fall, I miss New England dearly. And it doesn't snow here. And we don't get thunderstorms. I think I've managed to move to the one place in America where it rains without lightning. I've lived in Arizona (hello, monsoon season!), Massachusetts (summer storms!), Pennsylvania (storms at 3pm every day on the dot), and several places in the DC area (the most amazing cloud to cloud lightning I've ever seen). I'm a storm junkie and a snow junkie and autumn also happens to be my favorite season.

The truth is that I can't have it all. As we were making our way across the east coast, I got distinct impressions of why I wanted to leave. I miss my family, but I don't miss the people as a whole. In fact, I had a moment of clarity when I realized that even if we went back, Bella would not get the childhood I adored so much. It's only perfect in my memories.

It's hard for me to imagine Bella growing up without everything I loved as a child. While we were in Pennsylvania, she got to see her first thunderstorm. We stood at the door and counted claps of thunder while rain sprayed through the screen door. I took pictures, because I can't wrap my head around the fact that at fifteen months old, this was her first storm, and the last for who knows how long. I guess storms for her will have to be a special occasion, while mountains and blackberries will tell her story. And if we're forced to take lots of vacations, I have a feeling everything will be all right.

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Almost an hour has passed since we were nursing in the living room rocking chair. We're recovering from traveling and a 100 degree heat wave that sucks away the desire to nurse during the day. This girl stocks up before bed, makes up for an entire day of learning and exploration. Now we're in bed and she's still awake, and to my great surprise, she hasn't asked me for more. She's content simply to lie next to me and chat to my teddy bear. I find myself drifting off as she partakes in her wind-down ritual in which she sits up, smiles, and with a giant FWOMP! flops over sideways as close to me as possible. This tiny little child (though she sometimes seems so gigantic) has the ability to inch me right out of bed with this adorable full-contact cuddling sport. Sometime later I wake up to find that she has fallen asleep in my armpit as usual, head on my shoulder, back to my side, leg across my belly. (We're contortionist sleepers.) For the first time ever, she has fallen sleep next to me, but not nursing. We're entering a new realm.

Before we went on vacation, I started working my way towards night weaning Bella. Or at least getting us down to one nursing between bed time and waking up. Previously she had still nursed every few hours all night, and let me say, you don't realize how much sleep you're not getting until one fluke night you sleep 6 hours straight and remember how that feels.

Of course, vacation threw that all out the window and I was afraid of what would happen when we came home. Thanks to the 100 degree heat wave and lack of air conditioning, we're back on track faster than I thought possible. Sometimes I wake up at night and poke Bella, thinking, Well, she's got to wake up hungry some time, doesn't she? But no, she doesn't. She's totally capable of cuddling herself back to sleep these days.

Despite all this, I can't imagine myself weaning Bella. Neither of us is ready and I don't want to even think of the future. I never had a goal for us, I just knew we'd nurse as long as we wanted. I still have a hard time hearing friends say We made it two months, I'm so proud of us, but now it's time for formula. I know it's not nice to judge. And I know we've had it easy. But I can't imagine my life had we stopped nursing just a few weeks in. It defines our entire life, our whole relationship. I really don't know where we would be without it.

We're now into that age when nursing is not just "oh how nice you get to nurse so long" but instead it's peculiar. Bella has nice short hair and a baby face, so we get off without any odd stares, but people are usually still surprised.

They can't imagine someone nursing so long. I can't imagine what will fill that space when we're done.

It's nice to have options and a bit of separation. It's nice to know I can go out for six hours without my boobs bursting at the seams. It's nice to have given my pump away and to not miss it for a moment. It's nice to have sleep fill the nurseless nights and hot lethargy fill the missed day time sessions. And I can only hope that as the day sessions drift away (please, just a few for now), the transition will be gentle on us so that I will still have the magical means to grab up my chatty, rambunctious toddler and sit in a moment of peace to just enjoy her. That, after all, is what nursing is all about.

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