Archives for September 2011


It has been well over a year since either of you were bottle-fed, let alone breast-fed. This morning, we were all playing together when you, Lucas, got this look in your eye, unepectedly lunged forward at my breast, screamed MILK! and sunk your chompers right into my nipple. Oh did I scream!!! You little bugger you! That HURT!

Starting Daycare

Today was supposed to be Mom’s first day of work. Instead, it has been postponed another two days. Since we already made arrangements to take you to daycare, Mom and I both took you in this time. Normally, Mom takes you there only on Fridays. This week, you’ll be there today, Tuesday, then you’ll be home again tomorrow, then in for Thursday and Friday. We figure this will help ease you into going more often.

But since today was my first day dropping you off, you were both fine as we brought you in and placed you with the other kids. Mom gave me the orientation to how things work, and as we were getting ready to leave, out of nowhere the two of you came running into my leg, grabbed hold, and started crying that you did not want me to go. Oh, I had heard about this with other parents, and on some level, I even knew to expect it. But when the two of you were there, it simply broke my heart. Mom and I went out to the car and I was literally in tears. Even now, as I write to you, my eyes well up again.

My dearest children, you are both loved beyond measure. My hope is that as you get older, you begin to know and appreciate the degree to which that is so.

Train Museum

Oh, my dear children, you have grown so much since last I’ve written.
Anna, you are already saying the alphabet and counting to 10. More often than not, you even get it right. Lucas, you figured out how to climb over the baby-gates nearly a month ago, and both of you can climb in and out of your cribs already. Fortunately, you have yet to do so in the mornings, as you still prefer to be picked up by one of us when you wake.

Sithe and Jhudi are here this weekend, and we are all playing together. Today, we went to the train museum in Snoqualme, and saw the falls at Snoqualame too. We have Grandma and Grandpa’s mini-van this weekend so that we can all travel together rather than taking two cars, and I know it’s only a matter of time before we have to break down and get a minivan of our own. It’s a silly thing, really, but I just don’t see myself as a minivan type of person and I find myself resisting a vehicle that make imminent practical sense for us as a family at this point.

You are both such incredible and well adjusted children, and I fully credit your Mom for that, as she has been staying home with you since you were born over two years ago so far. Starting this week, however, Mom starts a new job. She’s been looking for work this entire time, and finally something came up. It’s a contract job, and only for three months (for now), but it will take her out of the house and mean that your now once-weekly daycare will become a daily occurrence during the week.

Mom is nervous about starting the new job, with all of the regular fears and anxieties that most people face when starting something new. I am nervous too, knowing that it is going to be a shift for the two of you, and also that our daily routines — OK, my daily routine — is going to shift as well. We have to figure out which one of us is going to take you into daycare in the morning, who will pick you up, how to deal with time constraints that we must pick you up by a certain time, knowing full well that the “demands” of work can change, as well as the idiosyncrasies of city traffic. Also, on days when you go to daycare right now, you seldom get a good nap in the afternoon, and you are usually a bit cranky when we get you home. Plus, with both Mom and I working now, neither one of us will already be here to get a head-start on getting dinner ready, so all four of us are going to be walking in the door at the same time, hungry and tired.

While mom has found it somewhat frustrating to have been out of work for so long, I have to admit that I have been incredibly thankful for the care she has been able to provide to the two of you, my dear children. Further, we have the blessed good fortune of not actually NEEDING for both of us us to work in order to support the family. Yet, while it is easy for me to say that, having been the primary financial provider, I also recognize that returning to work, using the skills Mom already acquired, and further developing her skills and career is also important to her. I find myself only somewhat torn between supporting her, and a belief in what will best support you, my dears.

The point, my loves, is that things will be changing for all of us in the near future and none of us as of yet know how those changes are going to play out in terms of logistics, personal adjustments, emotional impact, or behavioral changes in you two. I can only hope that the foundation already laid down carries forward.

And on that foundation, there are some things we see in each of you which are so incredibly heartwarming. You two are just over two years old, and as siblings, of course you bicker now and then. But you also show such amazing care and concern for each other as well. For example, when separated, each of you will ask where the other one is (Where Lucas? Where Anna?). Or when we give something to one of you while preparing more for the second, often you will share all on your own. One time, Lucas, I don’t recall whether you had fallen down, or if you were having a meltdown over something, but Anna came up to you, put her hand on you and said “It’s OK, Lucas,” while stroking your back. There are just so many little things like that which are signs of tenderness, caring, and love between you, that I can only attribute it to the two of you reflecting back what you see in your own lives. And for that, I am not only immensely moved by love for you, but also for your Mom, and for the family that we have created here together.

On the car ride back from the museum this afternoon, the two of you were absolutely beat. I think you both fell asleep in the car within minutes of when we hit the road, and I turned around and looked at your lovely faces. I looked upon you with love, amazement, admiration, and awe for the amount of love that you have added to our family. Then I turned to look at Mom, who was driving, and felt such pride, love, and joy for the anchor that she is for me, for you, and for our family.

On the Futility of Worry

Often, my beloved, one of you will find yourself intensely upset or frustrated over something “trivial” in my mind, such as being out of olives, or having to take your vitamins in the morning, or the need to go potty. I say “trivial” in quotes, of course, because to you, it is anything but. To you, it is immensely significant, disturbing, and worthy of a complete and utter breakdown. To you, these things represent something that simply “should not be” – and that is far in excess of your current coping skills. As the loving parent and adult, I see this as obvious, and do my best to walk the line between consoling you, and holding boundaries for the benefit of your own personal development.

So now I step back a few thousand feet and look at the things that that are upsetting or frustrating for me. If I retain the perspective of love that I feel for you, my children, it is not that great a leap to assume that somewhere still higher than me there is someone looking at me lovingly, seeing all that simply “should not be” as merely circumstances that are in excess of my coping skills. And when I am particularly enlightened, I can see my frustration as a lack of immediate commitment to bring about the change I so desire through the power of my thought to create the things and circumstances in my life that I desire.

So what is it that is missing, in this moment? Simultaneously “absolutely nothing,” and that I have yet to create a bigger set of desires to bring into fruition through my own thought.