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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Bella's first flight

As you may have noticed, we've been a bit absent. We're on our East Coast 2009 Meet the Bella Tour. I'll have tons of photos to share soon. A birth and babies and friends and family and tons of great stories I can't wait to share! But I felt bad neglecting my blog for two whole weeks, so I thought I'd mention our journey that renewed my hope for humanity.

We got to the airport with a fair amount of time to spare, and I'm no stranger to flying, and I had no intention of checking a bag so I packed very efficiently for the security lines and that went well. We were playing, so we missed the first call for the family boarding, which was just as well since another half hour on the plane was the last thing we needed.

I didn't know what I was going to do about breastfeeding a squirmy toddler in a middle seat. The poor young woman smushed into the window seat had Bella and me next to her, and a little 4 month old in front of her. She pretty much kept to herself the entire time. She was quite sweet though, and during the middle of the flight when I was catching a cat nap and Bella was wide awake, she played with her. She never once complained about Bella invading her space or kicking or dropping cheerios all over her luggage (whoops!).

The high school kid next to me was about eleven feet tall and spilling out the aisles and we were one big cozy tangle. Bella was tired and started to fuss when we took off and so I popped her on right as the boy looked over at me. He didn't even flinch. Could I have asked for better traveling companions? He just kept right on chatting and didn't mind for a moment that Bella was half on him while nursing. While Bella napped we shared cameras and photography and I told him what was outside the window (we flew right over my town, I would have liked to have just parachuted down to save some time) and it was one of the best flights I've had in a while.

We walked up and down the aisles, caused a few traffic jams as people cooed over her shoes and she tried to adopt every grandma on the plane. Unfortunately, we were the second to last seat in the plane and had a very short connection. By the time we got off, we had 20 minutes til our next plane took off on the farthest opposite corner of the airport.

With Bella and bag on my back and my luggage in tow, I literally ran through the airport. What a sight we must have been, harried mother running around with a baby giggling hysterically on her back. We took a wrong turn at some point and ended up outside of security, so we had to go back through the checkpoint.

I can't even say how many snafus we caused and dodged all at the same time. Apparently in Pennsylvania they want the baby in arms to have a boarding pass. What? They let us go with a few sighs but no ticket. We started waiting in a very long check line and I was pretty much in tears asking the first security guard if he could tell my plane I was on the way. He assured me in a most unsympathetic manner that he had no means to do so and I could only skip in line if the people in line let me.

I'm sorry, I'm all for democracy but how much more pathetic did I need to look begging to gyp in line? A sweet (female) guard offered to open up another x-ray machine for me and as it was warming up I heard last call for my plane. I'd never been this close to missing a flight before (though I have completely missed flights before), and I did not want to sit around an airport with a baby.

As we finished the security check (and did I mention no one asked me to take Bella off so they could scan my mei tai?) the nice guard told me to run and catch a car. When I thought my lungs would pop, I found one going the other direction. He asked his passenger if he minded turning back around, and to my immense relief he didn't mind. (hmm, should have thanked him. oops.)

When we got to my gate the doors were closed. I waited for the announcer at the next gate to finish boarding calls (while the rest of those passengers stared at me huffing and puffing...) and asked him if he could contact my plane. Luckily it was a small plane without a boarding tunnel, so he just whistled and hollered and sent me out onto the tarmac. Woot!! It was surreal, as I got closer and shouted, "is this the plane to Harrisburg?" Hah. Watch me get on the wrong plane. Indeed I was in the right place. The plane wasn't even full and the flight attendant ushered me on and moved some passengers to get me my own row. (They balked until they saw I had Bella on my back. People are so much more accommodating when you have a baby, haha.)

I laid my head back to catch my breath. We made it! (Thanks to 10 million awesome people.) Bella watched the world grow smaller out the window, and then I started nursing her to sleep. I was starting to relax and scowled at the ding donging in the cabin speakers. "Flight attendants prepare for landing." Wtf? Oh, right, it was only a fifteen minute flight. Well, at least we didn't miss it!

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Another ordinary night

Scene: 9:30pm Tuesday evening. The family has just finished a farmer's market dinner of fresh radishes, raspberries, and peanut butter fudge.

Adults are at their respective computers chatting over the day while Bella plays with toys on the floor.

Sirens and helicopters sound outside, yet another attempt to put out an untimely fire taking over a neighborhood just blocks away.

Shawna (knitting, at last, and cursing her computer for restarting itself randomly yet again): Dave, my dearest, most wonderful husband who has worked so hard and actually made money today, I know this is a lot to ask, but would you bring me the potty? I just sat down and crashed and all this knitting and tweeting about the fire is so tiring that I can't move five feet to get to Bella's potty, but it's time for her to go.

Dave heaves a loving sigh of resignation as he considers getting up.

Bella (whose favorite game recently has been walking back and forth handing Mommy bits and pieces of things from the floor) hands Shawna what we assume is an old piece of bread. Here!

Shawna (subconsciously sniffing the air and considering Dave's slow response time) looks down at her hands. Poo!! Dave, omigawddave!, Bella just handed me POOOOOO!!! Omigawd where did it come from?? Omigawd it's on the floor! Omigawd it's on her feet!

Omigawd initiate disaster protocols! Lift her off the floor! Strip her clothes! Throw her in the tub! Quick!

And ten minutes later, we're all back to normal. Helicopters notwithstanding.

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savoring: you had to be there

Happy Fourth of July. It fell on a weekend, thus I worked. And because it was so warm this weekend, I didn't bring my camera with me. What in the world? Guess I didn't want to lug it around.

I had intended to go home after work and sit at the computer (hence I'd have time for my 365 shot), but I was in such a horrible mood (re: useless customerless day at work that ended in me unclogging a toilet that I had cleaned just minutes before). When I called Dave to tell him I was off work, only to find out I hadn't even missed the barbeque, I hightailed it to the other side of town for a pick-me-up. Of course, sans camera.

So what follows is a savoring post without photography. Next year I'll have fun shooting the fireworks. This year I did my best (really, I tried) to enjoy them the way I used to.

Gardening in the dusk to ground shaking blasts and staccato flashes of color.

An entire town whizzing, popping, and banging from every direction.

Night time at the dock, happy faces glowing in the smokey campfires.

Bits of purple fire melting into their reflections.

Chirruping frogs filling in the silence between each firework.

A full and smokey moon rising up over the invisible mountain.

Little voices shouting out the colors in the sky as loudly as possible.

Echoing thunder as the sounds bounce back and forth between the mountains.

Bella reaching out to touch the sky, cheering on the sparkling show.

A satellite gently drifting through the explosions like a lost ember.

Bella clapping all the way home, shouting yaaay!

A sleep drunk baby to excited to sit still, running around tipsily til the very moment we strapped her in the car seat and she went out like a light. A high strung, fidgety, did I hear another boom, I can't miss another one! light.

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