Those Friends

You know those friends who you simply enjoy being around? The ones who you may have barely spoken to for months but the friendship can easily pick up right where it left off. The ones who you look forward to coming to stay at your house. The ones who you can be yourself around and wind up feeling encouraged after spending time with. The ones who are easy to be parents with and around. Those friends. Yes, we are thankful for them.
We spent last weekend in Portland for a wedding and got to spend three days and two nights with the Hsiehs. We hadn't seen them since last March when they were down here for Ben's Spring Break. Ian is now part an adorable part of the family. It was so nice to see Ava (3.5) and Wyatt (2) playing together. They like each other and seem to be a great distance apart in age. Wyatt learned a lot from spiritual and imaginative Ava (praying, fishing for magnets, and slaying dragons) and it was beautiful to see them enjoy each other the way they did.
At the end of the weekend, it actually seemed like we had a longer trip than just three days. Hopefully that was not the case for our kind hosts. We relaxed on the porch swing solving the world's problems, ate the best ever mint chocolate chunk cookies, went to a dance party that reminded me of our post-Wheaton year of finding fun dance spots in Chicago, discovered a new type of horticulture called espalier, watched Thumbelina twice, chased Stormy the cat around the entire house, celebrated our consistently remarkable husbands and the fathers they have become and generally laughed a lot.
We also got to go the gorgeous and meaningful wedding of our friend Suzy. I'm still in awe of her dress (and dying that I did not get a picture of it) and twelve part toast that was much shorter than it sounds. Wyatt only interrupted the toast once with a sweet, "Hi, Suzy." Getting to see Wheaton friends from years ago was also a treat.
Rebekah's offer to have Wyatt and I stay another week was a sign that I wasn't the only one enjoying myself. If only I didn't have to rush back on Sunday night for a minor surgical procedure at Stanford on Monday. All went well and I'm home recovering with the help of narcotics and my parents who have Wyatt for the week.

I Left My Heart

We spent last week in San Francisco in a little garage apartment in the Cow Hollow neighborhood. We stumbled upon the place on vrbo and really lucked out on the location. We had access to the backyard with a sandbox, two basketball hoops and a kid pool. There was a park on the same block and we could walk down to the marina in just about 20 minutes. I could have stayed another couple of months but Garett had house projects on the brain and was ready to get home. He always gets creative when we're in a city and he's looking forward to bringing his sketches and ideas to life.
Here's a rundown of the trip (According to a friend, it's a trip rather than a vacation when we bring Wyatt along.):

- Golden Gate Park(Koret Children's Quarter and California Academy of Sciences) and the Ferry Building twice (A Blue Bottle latte is the gold standard.)
- Cable cars and the bus
- Irish coffee at the Buena Vista Club
- The zoo with my parents and brother
- Finding miraculously amazing parking spots on the same block as our place every single day (I was reminded of living in Chicago and the thrill of backing into a coveted spot perfectly on the first try.)
- Exceptional meals at Slanted Door, Burma Superstar, Pan E Vino, and La Boulange
- Leisurely soaking up art at SFMOMA while Wyatt spent a day with his grandparents
- Walking, walking, walking

Wyatt seemed to really like San Francisco. It might have had something to do with the number of garbage truck sightings or the fact that three different servers brought him free ice cream at the end of his meal. His flexibility still amazes me and I have a lot to learn from him in that way.

Here are a few shots from the week:

Six Stitches

Last weekend Wyatt cracked his forehead on a sharp stone step and wound up with six stitches. It was far more traumatic for Garett and me. The only good thing was that we happened to be in Turlock and were joined by Garett's dad, my folks and my brother in the emergency room.
Unfortunately this is a fuzzy shot but it captures Wyatt's sad face too well to not post. Our nightly regime included band-aid removal, hydrogen peroxide and polysporin application and putting on another band-aid. I'm not sure exactly what Wyatt detested about this process but he made his frustration quite evident. I love the big lower lip.
All is well now and the stitches are removed. He may or may not even have a scar because the doctors said he hit it in a great spot that heals well. Good coordination of injury placement, Wyatt.

Happy Anniversary

Tonight we celebrated eight years with a $4.89 meal at Costco. If we weren't spending next week in San Francisco I might be a little on the disappointed side. I tried explaining to Wyatt what an anniversary is but he kept saying, "Happy birthday, Mommy. Mommy eight!" I think he was just hoping for a piece of cake with ice cream.
I can't believe it was eight years ago when I walked down the aisle (or runway, as Garett prefers to call it) to my groom standing on the metal platform welded with love. I love Garett more today than I did eight years ago. His depth, courage, kindness, generosity and humor are a few of the things that I especially value. And I also don't mind his amazing skills in the kitchen and the garden and the way he lets me sleep in on Saturday mornings while he makes Wyatt pancakes. It's an honor to be his partner and I'm looking forward to eight more years of adventure.

Trust and Costumes

Yesterday was a really good day. Wyatt loves playing "barefeet" in the backyard and I can't bring myself to force him to wear shoes. But yesterday several splinters wiggled their way into his feet and it was a problem. We got the tweezers and started talking with him about what we needed to do to get them out. He was understandably not thrilled about this process but nonetheless sat still for us to pull and dig them out. As he sat there with huge crocodile tears streaming down his face, I was struck by the immensity of his trust. Yes, he was uncomfortable and not pleased, but he stayed still and believed what we said about benefits of getting the splinters out now instead of later. I couldn't help but think about how I want to trust God through pain, knowing that all is not outside His purview and that He's holding me, comforting me and caring for me in and through it. And that tears somehow allow a greater depth of comfort and relationship to prevail.
We also had a Lost Finale Party last night. The food theme was seafood and everyone wore a costume. We had crazy Claire, Locke, Rousseau, Charlie, and the front and tail sections of Oceanic Flight #815. Garett and I were Sawyer and Juliet circa 1974 during their Dharma days. We ate clams casino, ceviche, cioppino, and fresh made bread with herb butter, and drank lava flows. And this group does not disappoint in the food department. Each item was prepared with the best ingredients with keen attention to detail. For example, we had three kinds of rum in each Lava Flow and each drink had at least 10 ingredients (and probably more) including fresh strawberries, pineapple and banana. Yum!
It was a late night but definitely worth staying up for. I am still on the fence about my feelings on the finale but watching it with friends while sipping a Lava Flow out of a hurricane glass was so right. The costume fun reminded me of Garett and my dating days when we nailed a punk rock look one Halloween. I'm grateful for friends who value having fun as much as we do.

And some pictures...

We have a little lookout near us called Terrace Hill. We've been enjoying walking up it lately and Wyatt is now able to walk up and down by himself. Hopefully the shot below will the last time we bring the Bob with us.
The zoo. We loved the gorillas.
And we took a tram up to the polar bears on this lovely San Diego day.

Round Two: Tears are Good

We spent another weekend in San Diego. Celebrating Mother's Day with an intense session of grieving may sound odd but it was a really good way to spend the morning. The remainder of the weekend was uneventful in an ideal way. The zoo was huge and a little overwhelming (for me, not Wyatt) but the gorillas, polar bears and elephants were fascinating. When I ask Wyatt about his favorite part of the zoo, without fail he answers, "Macaws too loud." I had a perfect bowl of Pho at a Yelp-recommended Vietnamese restaurant near our hotel and Wyatt discovered a love of egg rolls.
To prepare for Sunday, I read Crabb's Shattered Dreams, mediated on Psalm 62 and 63, and thought back to age 15 and wrote a list of everything that I was angry about and what I lost. I think the meditating meant the most, as God is helping me learn how to be more honest. In what can only be described as mystery, Sheryl opened up our time together with Psalm 63, though she had no idea that was the passage that God led me to during our six weeks apart. God led her to the same passage that morning. I struggle to acknowledge these moments in life as divine and would usually rather chalk them up to coincidence but it was a surprising confirmation that God is in the middle of this grieving process.
We spent a considerable amount of time talking about things I've lost. I hate even typing "things I've lost" because it feels so final and depressing. If I hate typing it, you can imagine how I feel about sitting with these things for any length of time. I desperately want to push fast forward and get on with it. Yet I'm clinging to what I remember about my life before I got sick.
Grieving is messy and that's probably the hardest part of the process. I'm messy and unpredictable...which is code for not in control. As God opens these deep crevasses in my soul, I am flooded with a new range of feelings on nearly every subject. There is a rawness to me right now that is uncomfortable.
As messy as it is and as many tears as I'm crying, I'm thankful that God is meeting and loving me. My hope is that His presence and love will be what my heart craves. For now, I'm still wrestling with my natural-but-too-important desire for good health and a quick, easy path, and I'm learning to be patient in the waiting.

Evidence

We had a few friends over today for a mini birthday celebration. It was a lovely morning to play outside and we even had a few conversations that lasted longer than two minutes. A friend took these pictures (Thanks, Amanda!). Josh, I thought you'd especially appreciate Wyatt's cool shirt. And I'm glad to now have a photo of Wyatt with dirt on his mouth. When he's older and I tell him that he used to love to eat dirt, it will be nice to have actual evidence of this stellar phase.

More Pictures - Garden and Good Times

Some Pictures

We spent Easter with some new friends and Wyatt got to experience his first Easter egg hunt.
We've spent the last couple of weekends working in the yard and planting our first garden. Garett built a few raised beds and we found two feeding troughs at the local farm supply store. The highlight was the large amount of dirt dropped off in our driveway. Wyatt's never been as dirty or happy. He liked to climb up to the top of the pile and slide down on his belly. It's too bad that I don't have a picture of Garett using the wheelbarrow to bring all this dirt from the driveway to the backyard because it was pretty impressive. All I really contributed was some measly shoveling and keeping an eye on Wyatt while he tried to eat globs of dirt. Yes, I still do a lot of finger sweeping.

Anger and San Diego

I wrote this a few weeks back but forgot to post it. Here it goes again...

I'm beginning a journey with a Spiritual Director and she lives and practices in San Diego. Instead of going by myself, we decided to attempt to make a fun family weekend of it. We drove down Friday night and spent a dreadful night in a hotel room with Wyatt. On more than one occasion Garett and I found ourselves huddling together in the pitch dark bathroom as we tried to trick Wyatt into staying in bed. He discovered the ability to hurl himself out of his travel bed and only (thankfully) stopped after a minor injury. (I'm feeling bad about not putting the "thankfully" after minor.)

After a rough night, Saturday was a breeze. We spent the morning at a boating and fishing show in Del Mar. Garett was in heaven and Wyatt liked the jumping dogs and large fish tanks. After a two hour nap, we swam in the hotel pool and Wyatt pretended to jump into the pool like the dogs we'd seen earlier. We found a small brewery called Pizza Port in Solano Beach and enjoyed some tasty brews.

All in all, it wasn't that thrilling of a day but it did such good for my soul to have a bit of adventure. I'm the sort of person who likes to wake up in the morning and then decide what sounds good. I crave spontaneity and am energized by the unknown in most every situation. The simple act of being in a new town without a plan gave me a taste of a "the-world-is-my-oyster" feeling and I love that feeling. I tend to move toward risk and get bored with repetition.

Sometimes I think I fear boredom in less than healthy ways. I can tell by the fact that I mix up my shower routine almost daily just to make sure I'm not in a rut. Admitting that makes me feel a little crazy.

I spent Sunday morning at my appointment and Garett took Wyatt the San Diego Zoo. My heart was full and that allowed me to enter into the spiritual direction process from a better place. I'm learning new spiritual practices (for me, these are becoming refreshing opportunities to connect with God other than my standard reading the Bible, praying for things, and worshiping at church on Sunday morning) and how to grieve.

I've written about this before but it is worth repeating. I struggle with facing up to reality, especially in terms of painful things that are very different than what I was hoping for in life. In my commitment to be a person who deals with things well and is not a burden/downer, I have not even been honest with God about how angry I am. And I am angry. So, I'm learning the simple act of being honest with God and myself. After a particularly intense time of basically shouting to God all of my feelings (mostly anger and sadness) surrounding my health, I realized just how much of this I've been carrying, probably since about age 15. That's too long. And what's really sad is that I have not believed that God is the kind of God who wants to hear from me about this and meet me in the pain. Getting to know God in new ways is bringing light and life to my heart in addition to renewed hope in the goodness of God.

Who's Smarter Than a Two Year Old?

This happened a few weeks ago and I've been meaning to write about it since. Garett and I woke up on a Saturday morning to Wyatt screaming, "Mommy, Daddy, come!" A few minutes later he started frantically yelling, "Poop on hands!" We popped out of bed and immediately went into his room. He was not lying. He also would have not been lying if he had said, "Poop on pajamas. Poop on bed. Poop on floor surrounding bed. Poop on blankets. Poop on sheets. Poop on stuffed animals."
The next day he did the exact same thing. And we did the exact same amount of laundry and sterilization.
By Monday, I was conditioned better than Pavlov's dog. As soon as I heard Wyatt shout, "Poop on hands!" I ran into his room. I found Wyatt standing in his bed holding his clean hands in the air. As soon as I entered he said with a smile, "No." I hate it when I'm outsmarted by a two year old.

Guilt, Pica or Both?

Wyatt's started hiding his eyes with his hands when he's done something he knows he shouldn't. He does it in the moment and then again when I come in to talk with him after a time out. It's interesting. I've been asking him why he covers his eyes and today he said, "Wyatt don't like what Wyatt do." Yes, my boy, I understand. Now, if only I can get past my frustration and disgust after finding him lying in the stagnant, muddy water in the front yard licking up the wet dirt and, instead, see the beauty in Wyatt's developing conscience.

A Revealing Moment

Today we had breakfast/lunch at Big Sky. It's currently my favorite restaurant so it was a nice treat. They are consistently great with kids and that makes it a whole lot easier to enjoy a meal out. Midway through our meal, a woman a few tables away pulled her son away from the table and marched him over next to ours to talk with him "privately". She was very close to us so there was no way to avoid eavesdropping. As she finished, my heart swelled with emotion and my eyes filled with tears. Garett and I were then able to have a good talk as we continue on this new, rocky road of becoming parents.
What she said to her four year old son is inconsequential but I will say that the words, "You are really embarrassing me," were part of it, as well as an intense tone that sounded mean from my vantage point. The words, tone and look on the little boy's face rushed over me like a gust of wind on a blustery day - a gust of wind holding up a full-length mirror into which I could hear, see and feel myself. I hope I'm not a mom who looks down my nose at other parents. Rather, I can deeply relate and appreciate the perspective sometimes found when I'm on the outside rather than in the heat of my own parenting moment.
Garett and I talked about how we hope to be parents with Wyatt. We can both feel ourselves getting impatient when he does something (i.e. lick up mouthfuls of sand from the outdoor sand table) for the umpteenth time and we're trying to figure out how to send the right message to him about what is and isn't good for him. We're struggling at finding a consequence that fits the behavior and helps him learn something from his choices. We both agree that making him fearful and obedient out of fear is easy (or easier) and effective in the short run but not really the point in the big picture. But it's a challenge to not use fear as a manipulation tactic to generate behavior that is less embarrassing and more controlled. This is especially tempting with my sensitive boy.
I'm not saying that good behavior doesn't matter, we just hope it's not our main goal. Nurturing Wyatt's heart and loving him in a way that helps him develop his character and, hopefully and eventually, learn to love God and people is the main goal. It's easy for me to get off track with this and allow my own shortcomings of pleasing people or finding significance through achievement dominate my parenting style.
Garett and I recommitted ourselves to be a team as we approach this nurturing process. We have different styles and Wyatt needs them both. We also agreed to continue seeking out ways to demonstrate and generate love not fear (Wyatt's or our own). Part of that entails honestly dealing with areas of our lives where anger is brewing. Another part is noticing when fear is leading us to a certain path and that love might lead us to a different one. It's messy and definitely not a cut and dried formula to guarantee a perfect kid (Is there one of those?) but we are trusting that God is going to give us what we need in each and every moment and that I John 4:18 is true.

A good rest

When Wyatt's done with a nap, I usually go into his room and ask him, "Did you have a good rest?" He's come to expect that question and now leads off with, "Wyatt good rest, Mommy." Not feeling well the past few weeks, I've often been napping while he naps and I tell him when I lay him down that I'm going to be sleeping while he's sleeping. Last week, as I entered his room after a nap he asked me, "Good rest, Mommy?" It was sweet and caring and I love seeing his heart expanding.