2010 Greatest Hits

Really?
Is it almost over?
2010 ... I hardly knew yee. Blinked twice and you are just about gone.

My year felt odd -- with lots of starts and stops and long quiet moments and blurry days that zoomed without notice.

I think know parenthood has altered my perception of time and often it gets judged by when a nap is due.

So this year felt Big. So many small and daily changes in my boy have added up into him being a real person. They are great hits indeed -- and yet I feel compelled to cough up a few that are not only about my child.  After all, my own personal year rocked in many ways.

2010 Greatest Hits

• cancer free FJF 
• Lewie giggles and kisses
• fit flops
• audiobooks
• finding my mothering feet
• smaller jeans
• longer patience
• baby friends becoming real friends
• having a work from home husband
• 12 months of Lewis growing from cute baby to lovely small person
• Cail Bruich on Great Western Road
• guideparents
• movies with wine and rhona
• employing a cleaner
• new Bosch washer and dryer
• cat burglar family
• sanity saving Saturdays off

Bring on 2011.  My aspiration list is long and my hopes big.

freeze frame-14 months minus 3 days

My boy is a boy ... no longer a baby. Whew!

Thank god for that. While it doesn't get easier, but different, I am so enjoying him at this moment in time.

• Favourite word still BA! But said in different tones along with pointed pointing to get his point across.
• Also knows Ba Ba (bye bye) -- often said along with a wave long after you are gone from the person you left, but still counts. 
• Eats lots but enjoys baby plum tomatoes, yogurt, peas and peanut butter toast more than anything.
• Made friends with the salad spinner but still wary of the hoover and the hand held blender
• Loves to stand on the window sill (with Mom holding him tight!) and look out at the world
• Almost exclusively walks with the occasional crawl when he wants to get somewhere fast
• Fascinated by wheels. Sigh. Hello gender stereo type.
• Adult used pots/pans/phones/remotes are by far best toys
• JUST started to like cuddly friends, which I LOVE
• Will give kisses - wet and sweet
• Much more hair than he had - wispy and light brown but still pretty much a baldy compared to his pals
• Blue eyes seems to be keepers -- which is a lovely gift from his paternal Gran
• Enjoys a bit of In the Night Garden on mom's lap
• Balls -- kicking/throwing/eating = all good
• Flirts shamelessly for smiles and coos with all people out in the world
• Has zillion dollar smile and gabillion dollar giggle
• Takes up almost all the real estate in his parent's bed and hearts

what I've learned in 12 months

People have been asking me how I feel about having a 1-year old. And to be honest, it never occurred to me to be anything except relieved.  And didn't it go fast? Well, only in retrospect.  The days were often an exercise in Getting Through. Nights sometimes a blur.  I felt like I was often riding the crest of managing it all only to fall into near collapse as soon as the boy had finally fallen asleep for the night.

Honestly, I found this year many things: Surreal. Testing. Surprising. Lovely. Engrossing. Frustrating. Scary. Tender. Enriching. And, well, HARD!

Maybe it is because I never ever babysat or had any experience with babies except for an occasional, quick and fearful hold of a pal's offspring.  I've never been broody.  Babies seemed nice, if foreign beings.

And my own sweet boy really was no exception. I remember going out with him in total fear that he would kick off crying and I Wouldn't. Know. How. To. Make. It. STOP.

And in fact, that did happen on occasion.  I often felt like he was an unpredictable bomb which may go off at any time.  It made me twitchy and jumpy.  Not that he was by any means a particularly fussy or troubled wee babe.  I was just a fussy and troubled mum. 

Slowly, very slowly, I started to trust myself. Started to understand what he wanted, needed and took pride that going into MY arms often made it all better.

And now. Yes, Really only now, 12 months later, do I feel a bit calmer.

More space to relax into motherhood. Relish in the sunny, clear and uncomplicated love. Soak in the loveliness of holding hands. 

And in getting to know my very sweet, smiling, curious, affectionate and heart melting boy, I am growing into the mother I want to be.

But the best thing is hearing my very favourite all time word.

Mama.

time to think

My transition from non parent to parent is still a bit clunky. After almost eleven months of sliding along the scale of Not Really Worrying At All to Complete Obsession and 200% attachment to Getting Things Right, I am feeling a bit fried.

My pal and parenting mentor Hanna told me that parenting really underscores your personal failings and your personal  abilities.  Hooo Haaa. Very right. My failings are really in bold these days.

I can spend many many hours paying attention, and playing and encouraging and keeping the boy from ovens, sockets, fireplaces, corners, toilets,  pointy things. I distract while swiftly changing a nappy on a standing, crawling and squirming boy. I even assist on  *some* of the poopy ones. (One of the many reasons I love Mark. ) I can read and cuddle and soothe and tickle. I plan the meals he will eat. And those that his parents may even enjoy too. I marvel over his chewing and drinking and feeding his small self many food items while not losing my shit that so much of it is being thrown overboard the high chair tray or at me. I nurse. I prepare the many items needed for our outings to music class, swimming, a walk in the park or a lunch date. I restock. I launder. I go up and down the stairs. I walk the hills. I monitor mood shift and eye rubbing for the near imperceptible but imperative signs that a nap is needed ... within the next 10 minutes or Never. I coo and stroke and hum and mmmmm and head rub to sleep. Sometimes up to 45 minutes. Three times a day.

It is no great surprise that on the Saturdays that I have declared "mine" I have a hard time relinquishing control of all of the above.  Mark knows how and what to do yet I watch and listen to myself snarkily reminding of naps, what happens "now" and interpreting all situations like he isn't here every day. (um, he is. He knows.)  I cringe when I hear myself. It is like those people who won't call in sick to work when they are sick because they are "too needed". Phooey.  The boy will be more than fine with his pop. He will enjoy the different style of parenting his company.

It is a bit of a racket, this motherhood trap we can get in. I want to be more than a mom/ I AM more than a mom. And yet I find it so easy to gets sucked into the very minutae of the routine of caring for a baby. It literally does my head in.

And it is also no great shakes that here on my day off, I am a bit unsure what to do with myself. Part of me cries to go OUT. On my OWN. See movies! Drink coffee in public quietly and READ!  Window shop! Paint my toes! See Friends!  Exercise! Explore! Get a hobby! SLEEP! All the things I crave when I am in full motherhood mode and my attention and psychic energies are all used up. Yet when the day gets here, I Just. Want. To. Stop. Doing. Ahhhhh. Commence staring into space and emptying head of all attention to anyone anything.

What I am learning is that I need perspective. Over and Over. I need to loosen the white knuckle grip. I need to relax. Much More. I need to practice being a different kind of parent ... the laid back kind. I need to be a mother and so much more.  I need to work on the much more part.  I need to give myself permission to get it wrong sometimes. I need to be less grumpy and more grateful. I need to trust my co-parent. I need to find a new balance between Caring and Attentive Mother and Crazy and Controlling Meanie.

And I need time to think.

pause: 10 months, 2 weeks

• 8 teeth!
• says mama, and I "know" he means me!
• crawls very fast without using knees (all hands and feet)
• stands all the time, but must hold onto something
• refuses to lie down for nappy changing. (see stands all the time)
• points at Every. Thing. And grunts crazily until you give him the object of his pointing
• starting to use a baby fork, even if only to stab blindly and wildly at the highchair and then fling it at a parent
• loves blueberries, cheese, cherries and whole plums (minus the pits, naturally) and natural yogurt
• wants to drink out of Your Cup, no matter what you have
• made friends with the exercise ball
• now scared of the salad spinner
• knows not his physical boundries and climbs atop of other babies when mingling. Not all the babies love this. 
• loves being chased around the house
• can put round peg in round hole but all other shapes make him mad
• pushes upturned laundry basket around the house as his "high tech" walker
• likes to take muslins and "clean"
• naps are a crap shoot and can last 1.5 hours or be refused entirely
• has fallen asleep at the dinner table in his high chair. twice.
• washing machine is the best show in town
• claps at most things
• waves bye bye, but about 3 minutes after you actually leave and are down the road
• Mark claims he has said monkey and woof woof, but one time only and never to be repeated
• facinated with cupboards, doors, lights
• starting to be a b-o-y not a baby!

pause: 8 months and 4 weeks and 1 day

I have been a really crap memory keeper.  I still don't have a wedding album, most of my photos from the last 10 years are boxed and/or stored various places in the world.  And I have not done ANY real record keeping of baby milestones. I was home recently and went through many of my keepsake boxes in my parent's basement.

a) wow, I wrote a LOT of notes in grade school
b) wow, I can't believe how much of my childhood stuff my parents KEPT... and moved ... and moved again.

I would very much like to be the kind of parent that has lovely scrapbooks of tickets and locks of hair and cute appropriate first photos -- all labeled and dated and official.  And I am afraid it isn't going to happen.  Not now anyway...

In theory, I am that person, but I somehow can't be arsed as it seems so tedious.  Can I blame not having a basement to store things?

Instead, maybe I can capture moments in time of what it is like for Lew in his life on this day.

8 months and 4 weeks

• loves toast, yogurt, water and cheese. (who is his mother) and vegetables (who is his father). and breastmilk (the kid has good taste)
• 3.5 teeth -- 2 bottoms and 1 front and 1/2 of the other front... fangs imminent
• crawling fast and furiously, pulling up on furniture, learning to fall gracefully on his nice padded bum instead of crashing with his head
• loves people -- smiles at all strangers and loves attention. a serious ham-bone and loves other babies -- and of course his mom and dad
• takes 2 naps a day, usually at 10ish and at 2ish. Bath at 6:30 ish and bed at 7 and sleeps with a few wake ups until about 7
• peek a boo makes him seriously CRACK up
• loves music and watching (hearing?) people sing
• not all that interested in stuffed animals, but likes balls, wheels and things he can shove in his mouth, which is actually pretty big
• First noise (not really a word) was BA - then MA MA (which is CLEARLY a word) and we get the only occasional (sorry Mark) DA.
• Is scared of the vacuum cleaner and my exercise ball
• Has been very squirmy but starting to chill out and sit nicely on a lap
• Goes to sleep listening to lullabies
• Hates hats
• And bibs
• Will not let you feed him
• Has a heart melting smile
• Likes to hold hands and lots of cuddles
• Books are OK as long as they have stuff to feel
• Makes friends everywhere he goes -- each line of each shop ...
• Leaves no corner unexplored, especially where we haven't baby proofed
• Is genuinely good company
• Has blue eyes which if they remain, will be from his paternal grandmother!
• Is currently called Lewberry or Lewbear
• Gets very busy sorting things (in his own categories unbeknownst to anyone else)
• Has very light brown hair and very fine and what looks to be his uncle g's hairline
• Shrieks inexplicably 
• Grabs glasses, pulls hair and bits of flesh
• Drools constantly
• Is adored by his parents
• Emerging to be an exciting, curious, loving, sweet, sociable boy -- just like we ordered!

sweating all the smallest stuff

I recently realized that I do approximately 2-3 loads of laundry EACH day. Now even including the MustWashAllClothesEachTimeHeWearsThem 8 month old, that is a whole more laundry than 3 people warrant.  I am obsessed.

I have made it my cottage industry to never have anything in the laundry bins.  Sheets, towels, kitchen tea towels, baby bibs, bathroom rugs ... all get such a regular rotation that my new shiny Bosch may be getting tired.  Ever since the discovery of the multi-wash setting -- it all gets thrown in as one. Often.

I have decided somewhere in my addled brain that if I KEEP UP I will Remain In Control.
Keep up with laundry. Keep up with supplies in the house.  Keep up with Facebook. And, well, that is all about I can keep up with.

Where did I get this idea?

I have a baby.

So very many things are now out of my control.  He is dictating so many of my day's outputs.
The baby nap has become the central defining core of my days.  Must. Get. Him. To. Sleep. 2 Naps. At All Costs.  I contort  to shush him and play the many many presleep games we have somehow adopted for hours, I walk endlessly in all manner of weather and mood in quiet (dare not a CAR drive by and wake the babe) parts of the park.  I wind down the baby wolverine from warp speed (MUST CLIMB MUST STAND MUST MUST...)  to mmmmmmmm, nursing ... to zzzzzzzzz.

It is freaking hard work.  And I find I get crazy annoyed if all my best efforts, well, fail. (I guess We WON'T BE NAPPING THEN!)

I am a crazy person.

I currently sleep on 2 inches of my bed while my co-sleeping child lies spread eagle and husband gets 3 inches. (Note, our summer project is Reclaim The Bed: a much hyped and no action item to do so far...)

I haven't dried my hair with an actual hair dryer in about (no lie) 5 months.

I am  woefully aware of all the dangers in our flat that we have yet to conquer -- so many edges and corners and finger snapping traps and climbable and pull able things.  I try to be vigilant that he is able to be a free range kid and also a safe one.

This means I am on my hands and knees too.

I got a (thank you Jesus) massage today and the therapist agreed that I am indeed "broken".

I need some balance. I need to chill out about the naps and the laundry. I need to be OK with more chaos. I need to stop trying to recreate what worked and pay attention to what's happening. My boy is growing and growing fast.  Nearly walking for chissake.

I can see how easy it would be to make my life's work about worrying the smallest  bits to death.  I could do nothing but keep the house tidy, laundry clean  and our 3 square meals a day hot and ready. But man what would I be missing.  And how empty would my life be at the end of it? Things will always get dirty again. Meals are gobbled up and gone.

I want to be a provider of safety and cuddles and giggles. And I want my boy to remember my smile, not my furrowed brow and busy hands.

Do I dare let the laundry pile up? What happens when I kill the control freak within? When I let go will it all crumble?   Or is that when space to sweat and recognize the big stuff comes in?

what a girl wants

I had 5 minutes recently and scribbled a list of Things I Would Like to Do To Stay Normal.

It was surprisingly short. And surprisingly simple.

1. Read books
2. Talk to Lex
3. Write in blog
4. Go out with friends for dinner alone
5. Go out with Mark alone
6. Go to movies on my own
7. Exercise class

Those are the things in my life I am not doing that I want to do.  I note that 6 of the 7 are things On My Own.  I think that is the theme.  As much as I love being a mom, I am craving silence in my head and having my attentions elsewhere.  Now he is crawling and seriously mobile, it will be even more of a challenge to keep my eyes on HIM at all times. 

My eyes need to glaze over sometimes. Or stare at a big movie screen showing an independent film as I eat some smuggled bakery. My eyes need to focus on a juicy novel for 30 or more minutes at a stretch. My eyes need to see nightlife and humanity outside of the home after 6 p.m. 

My ears need to be free of straining to hear a pip or a squeak from the baby monitor. Turning the volume down on all noise in the house. I need to be loud. I need to get out. 

My brain needs to express the big and small revelations of my life. Witness and record some happenings. I have been too lax at letting the days turn to nights over and over without stopping to be grateful or to notice. 

My body needs more than the endless pram walking I do each day.  Up hills. With a heavy load. I need to wear Lycra and sweat. 

Needing time as a couple. Needing time alone. Needing time with friends. 

Is simple.

They say children grow well when their parents grow well.  

I think it is time I do a bit of growing. 

double digits

Tomorrow is the 10th anniversary of meeting my husband (well, within 2 days of) and our 4th year of marriage.

Seriously.

I can't think of many things I have done for 10 years in a row, especially cheerfully and willingly.

(I have mastered waaaaaaaaay more than 10 years of eating too many cheese sandwiches and ditto on many years of not balancing my checkbook)

But 10 years of loving the same man really feels pretty easy after it is all said and done. I think, in fact, it is weirdly getting easier.  

I pay homage to how a midwestern girl and a english boy have melded their lives together and created a new one. And also created a new person too.

I remember saying that I had never met anyone like M before and it still holds true.

He is an original. A mensch. A hard worker. An energy ball. A warm heart. A cool temper. A generous soul. And now proving to be a supreme dad.

I still feel like the cat who got the cream.

ticking my boxes

A dear friend of mine recently commented that I have "ticked the major boxes" in my life... meaning, marriage, house, child.   Tick. Tick. Tick.

Huh ...  so I have.

I had never really expected to really *do* all that.  I met my husband when I was 32 and got married at 38.  I got my name on a mortgage to our flat at 40 and I had my son when I was 42.

I lived many adult years when those dreams felt very far fledged and unattainable. I just wanted to pay off my credit card bill, have some cute shoes, a boy to date and to get out of my studio apartment.  I didn't really dare dream any bigger back then.

Through coaching, luck,  a bit of Chutzpah and nothing to lose, I found and chased my dream of more.

I feel incredibly grateful to have the life that I do ... and it was all worth not only the wait, but the dream.  So often people are afraid to dream about what they want, as if it exposes the greater ache and need for more.  They settle quietly for the things they don't really want, while trying not to notice their souls are slowly evaporating.

What I am learning is that the dream is really really important to the process.  Allowing space and time to muse on what you want is not only delicious but vital to crafting the reality.  (If you build it, they will come theory.)

So, yeah, I have ticked some central and happy boxes.
Yay Me.
Grateful Me.
My life is indeed more than I ever imagined.

And now the job is to dream of bigger boxes to tick.

and here we are emerging on a sunny day

begin again

I know it is hugely cliche and completely overstated... but spring is feeling like a miracle this year.  Maybe because the last 12 months have been a whirl of wake ups and walks and feeding and naps and soft voices and all very very inward gazing. The rest of the world ceased to really exist.  

Spending the last 3 days out in the air and sun and sky feels like a new experience.  And watching baby take in the leaves and grass and the view from a picnic blanket, well, IS a new experience. Seeing him reminds me of what's new to discover. What's crazily beautiful as a stick or a toe or a spoon.  We are both emerging -- him for the first time and me again.

And it is perfect that this week I start back not only running the workshops again for Life Clubs, but also coaching.  I do feel oddly, and inexplicably ready.  Which also feels like a miracle.  Maybe because the last 12 months have been so baby and getting ready for the new world order and new scary and very very other.  I doubted my sense of self, my brain, and my attention span would be able to coach.  Or coach effectively.

I am happy that the early reports are that it feels GOOD to work a little.  It does complete the fuller picture of who I am.  Feels right to begin again -- but now with a deeper, richer and really centered launch pad.

Who I am as a mom and who I am becoming is adding to me as a person and as a coach.  I think my heart has grown a new chamber that Lewis lives in and yet, I still have room for more.

This is good news.

I feel so grateful that I get to participate in serving others to get happy. And so I begin again with fresh eyes, delighted by the miracles of my life.

why doesn't Andy comment anymore?

Where are you Andy?  Don't you love us anymore?

no wonder he doesn't respond to "Lewis"

I am sure all parents have ridiculous names they call their babies... (right???)

For some reason I can't really call him by his actual name.

Am I scarring him by this litany of handles?

And why are so many of them food items?

And just HOW mad at me is he going to be when he is called sausage in his teen years?

• monkey
• noodle
• lou bear
• sunshine
• sausage
• saucy
• sausage patty
• peanut
• lewie loo
• loo loo
• loo loo bell (Father really disapproves of this one)
• little fella
• small fry
• baby dumpling
• sweet potato
• lamb chop

fast forward

Since the invention of DVR on TV I can't stand to watch commercials anymore. Now that you can fast forward through them, it is painful to watch Live TV and have to endure them.

I'd like you all to think of my blogging absence as skipping the commercials.

In the life of an infant, 1.5 months is very very long. Many giant leaps can happen. Motor skills develop. New sounds emerge. Clothes are outgrown.

So many things have happened in the life of Lewis that I can barely keep up.

Let me catch you up, fast forward now that he is 5 months and 3 weeks old!

• we have rolling over 
• wearing 6-9 month clothes
• getting very *handsy* with hair, glasses, straps on one's bra, other babies
• bbbbbbbb, fffffffff and high pitched terradactyl singing
• infectious giggles and smiles and silliness
• FOOD! We are starting baby led weaning a little earlier than the recommended 6 months as Lew ticks all the boxes, can sit in highchair, interested in food (ours!), can put things purposefully in his mouth.

So we bought the BIG BIBS (OK smocks) and have been letting Lew experiment at meal time. So far he has tried, avocado, banana, pear (too slippery), roasted potato, and toast! Loves it.

I am filled with odd pride when I see him tucking into toast like a proper person. It is as if suddenly, it dawns on me that he is a tiny human, not just a baby.

He was to start in nursery 2 days a week and we bailed. Too chicken and too attached and too not necessary. Revisit in September when he is a big boy of 11 months

What else has shifted is us as parents. We are starting to *get* him a bit more and we are (to borrow a phrase from my pal Rhona) both in love with the same little person. It is like the perfect complete shared and engrossing hobby that you are both crazy about.

And that's nothing to fast forward. I really want to just pause.

What Mothers Do, Especially When it Looks Like Nothing:

I started reading this book when the title grabbed me on amazon.

And from the get go, it named so many of my bleary, unformed thoughts. The first book I have come across that doesn't give tips or advice but instead gives quiet affirmation to the millions of tiny things mothers of infants do...

... like being constantly interruptable, or giving the deep comfort a newborn craves, the extreme seriousness of having a giant new responsibility and no training or having zero patience for your partner.

It also speaks to the confusion, anxiety and exhaustion new moms endure.

It gives us new mothers a more realistic perspective calmed me right on down.

Excellent bedtime reading to help sanity with a nice dose of empathy.

a few for the non facebook crowd

You know who you are ... here is gorgeous boy at 3 months-ish

10 things I never thought I'd do but sadly already am

1. stop carrying a purse... wearing only coats with big (stuffed) pockets
2. taking ownership of eye gunk, stray boogies and the general picking at baby's face
3. rely on soothers ( pacifiers, binkies, dummys - whateveryouwanttocallem) to, um, soothe my baby
4. insure I have extra soother in the big pockets at all times
5. gage my walking distance by if I need the nappy bag
6. turn down invitations to a night time art opening because it conflicts with (my) the baby's bedtime
7. walk the baby in his pram endlessly so he gets a good nap, even if I am bedraggled and it is raining
8. let baby watch Baby TV (yes this exists)
9. question my choices and want to run away -- for at least 10 minutes
10. imagine baby will be a pianist/genius/president/artist/ etc. because of some perceived acute awareness of hands/light/faces/colour, etc.

intentions

First of all, can I just say how much I miss having time to write in my blog?

Sometimes, as I lie in bed for the 20 minutes I am trying to fall asleep IMMEDIATELY after Lewis does to take full advantage of maximum sleep hours, I think of things I am dealing with, enjoying, noticing about me, the world, etc ...

All very blog worthy and yet I find about 12 minutes a day when I am not feeding, (which to be fair sometimes gives me a one handed computer access which I waste on Facebook), burping, soothing, changing, or otherwise futzing with the boy.

I really admire the Moms who write. Moms with little ones. How do they do it? Check out the blogs I follow and you'll find really funny, clever and well written stuff by busy people.

So I have these thoughts and then they go ... away ... as the days tick off and the calendar turns.

But here is one notion that stuck and I was determined to use part of my 12 minutes to capture it.

In Leadership we often started the day with one word intentions .. something we would hang our hats on for the day. It was how we wanted to be, show up or create.

And I have come up with the intention that captures this period of time for me.

Surrender.

I can't blog like I used to. Or read. Or watch TV. Or talk to friends. Or stay out past 7. Or drink. Or do so many things. And when I try, I end up frustrated. Things are interrupted. Baby cries. Needs attention. Constantly.

Yet, when I surrender to this new way of life and redirect my attentions and energies and tune into my newborn baby, it flows. We laugh and smile and coo. And cry and sleep. I match his energy rather than force my own on him and it works much much better. I give up trying to do all the things I did before. But I am getting something new.

He will only ever be this age once. I will only ever be a first time mother of a newborn once. His head will only smell this sweet for a limited time. Surrendering to the moment and savouring a bit brings me really really present to this weird altered and mostly very very lovely time.

And I am rewarded with the occasional 12 minutes of time to reflect. Or brush my teeth. Or make a sandwich. Or maybe even write.

So if I am not blogging, know it is because I have stopped. I have surrendered.

And I am probably on Facebook. With one hand.

But I'll be smelling the delicious baby while I am at it.

a good glasgow day

After 1 and a half years, somewhere along the line, Glasgow has suddenly become home.

I was mighty resistant after living in picturesque Edinburgh with our homey/handy neighbourhood, wine shop 20 feet from our front door, good friends 5 minutes down Broughton Street, bus lines aplenty, award winning butcher, John Lewis and a movie theater top of the street, friendly and fantastic hairdresser 2 doors down.

Glasgow was big. Grittier. Less convenient. I couldn't (still can't) figure out the buses. We had to walk further to get supplies. And we knew bugger all people. Felt isolating in our big beautiful 2nd floor flat.

Slowly, I found my way. I found my stockists. Where to buy the best bread, who made the best coffees and cakes, who sold local organic eggs. I became a regular. I am on friendly "how are you/nice to see you" terms with many of my local shopkeepers ... even know some by name!

We love our doctors and health visitors. Our pharmacist is a gentle lovely guy. Our NHS dentist 5 minutes away and friendly. I love my yoga and acupuncture place. We are frequent visitors to the cafes and the park. We take pleasure in knowing what's new in the hood.

We walk. EVERYWHERE.

Maybe it is because we have a son now. People on the street smile and coo. (how could you not?) We found kindred friends with babies. We are suddenly part of the community.

It snuck up on me when I wasn't looking. The odd bits of life have collected and glued together.

I feel at home. And it feels remarkable.