While voting yesterday...

...Aria kept asking all the volunteers who they were voting for. They of course weren't saying. They'd say things like "the next president" "the winner" and she kept it up, "But WHO?!!" finally, a woman said, "John McCain" and Aria said, "but he wants the war to keep going. You should vote for Barack Obama. He wants to end the war." That's my girl! And if you know Aria, you know that this is absolutely without coaching.

Aria said...

As we were driving together as a family and laughing, Aria proclaimed, "We've got a noisy car of happiness over here!"

Blood, Fertility, & Magic Show

The Venue:

The Artists:

The "Blood, Fertility & Magic" show that I participated in with Melissa Bond, Sara Caldiero-Ortlei, and Cat Palmer 3 weeks before Azur was born won an Arty Award in City Weekly for "Gutsiest (ahem) Spoken-Word show" http://www.slweekly.com/index.cfm?do=article.details&id=4DD0349D-14D1-13A2-9F31ACF77F3477D5Here are my paintings of the poets, and, their poetry that inspired the paintings:

This first one is by Melissa:

Dear Little Fish,
There are a myriad of names I could call you – Little Papaya and Minor Oblongata being the most current endearments – but of late you’ve felt so very aquatic and I the aquarium, that it seems inevitable that I revert to the watery, the oceanic.Let me introduce myself. We are, of course, well acquainted in the most primal of arrangements, but if I’m to understand your orientation correctly, I am, at present merely the invisible water in which you swim. I am the alpha to your omega, the Escher staircase to your stair. I am the mystic flute that you hear as if echoing through a cavern. You don’t yet know that the flute has a player or that she has a name.So, a formal introduction: Hello, Little Fish. I’m your mother. I am She of the Rubber Room. That’s right, rubber room – the one you’ve been playing tennis against. I am the deep bass wall that resonates with every thwack and swing of your racket. And let me say, you’re quite the player – merciless- you’d have that slick-haired Fedderer weeping into his shoes in that house in Dubai. You’d have the gussied, white-trousered Wimbledon crowd on their feet- roaring- pulling their hair out like flowers and throwing the strands at your feet.

I’d like to mention that while I know my condolences can never assuage the utter confusion and magic of living in this world, I want you to know that I will always be there (in soul if not in body) to stand next to you, heart thundering in the chest like a freight train. Because even if I wanted to save you from the knives of this world, which I do, but I can’t, I know that it’s inevitable that you will split your spleen against it at times. You will fall occasionally to those medieval humours, you will have your Little Fish heart broken and broken again …and much as I will yearn to superglue you and place you in a hermetically sealed room …I know that I can only hand you the needle and thread with which to sew your heart back together. This is the love that I’m to learn, Little Fish. The love of letting you break, the love of grief and praise like a language of blood in the body, the love of letting you run giddy and stumbling into the world without me being there at every moment to protect you.

Because- I don’t know if they told you this at the gate or if you listened, but the Hoo Rah! Superhero’s Guidebook for Living on Earth has been backordered since 1923. Rumor has it that a copy (immistakable with its mossy green cover and shape like a candy bar) was last seen sticking out of Martin Luther King’s pocket on that fateful day in Memphis in 1968. The book, like King, was never recovered and there hasn’t been a copy seen since. Which makes you wonder. We’re to go at it, the whole of us, without a single chapter telling us where to go in case of emergency or how to deal with stomach upset or profound loss or the tsunamis of love that pummel our shoreline.

And just so you know, my greatest strength thus far lies in my interest in the uncertainties of this world. I do not rail against them and I wouldn’t advise you doing so. It only causes indigestion and it makes the world a much less pretty place. I believe that my father, your grandfather, a southern gentleman with dandyish proclivities had it right. It’s best to sit upon the porch of the world with a glass of cold mint tea and watch the pageantry with awe struck eyes. Only then will the world come to you. Only then will it roll over and break open at your feet.We will meet soon, Little Fish.I’ll wait for you on the porch, broken open with a milktruck at my chest.Until then.

This one is by Sara:

Sleeping on your
Placenta pillow

You dream about
Growing a mouth
To speak words from
Ears to hear the beating
Of drums
Your stump of an arm
Can bend and wave
The paddle
That will form a hand.

And here is my third piece, a fertility box:

And finally, the artists now (showing off baby bums in g diapers):

Drafted 9/7/08

laying down with Aria tonight to get her to sleep. We say "thankful for animals". After Aria states what she's thankful for (which was our family), I say to her, "thank you for being my little girl." She says, "thank you for being my mommy friend." "thank you for taking me on dates." 

 This, is what being a mommy is all about.

Babes for Obama

 It started one day last spring while driving Aria home from school. She and I were talking about the state of Washington and how some of her cousins lived there when she said, "Hey Mom, George Washington was our first president." "That's right" I replied very impressed that my 4-year-old knew such facts. She continued, "..and George Bush is our president now. And, Barack Obama is our next president." Now, I'm reeaallly impressed.

 Fast forward to today. While driving in the car Michelle Obama is being interviewed on NPR about her upcoming introduction of her husband at the convention tonight. Aria and I get to talking about him and his family (she's very excited that he has 2 little girls and is wondering when she can go to their house and play with them) when she asks what does the president do and why does he want to be president. After my brief explanation I tell her that both Barack Obama and John McCain are trying to be our next president then ask her who she would like to win. She answers, "I want Barack Obama, not Bruce Wayne!" (I promise we did NOT let her see The Dark Knight) 

Azur's a big supporter and bought a lot of cookies at the bake sale for Obama!

Tea Anyone?

What do two little girls do with only an hour playdate? They have a tea party of course. If Aria had had her way, it would have been an animal tea party and Sara Jewel would have worn the Tigger costume in the 90+ degree heat. Aria was immune to the heat or just a slave to fashion and held true to her animal theme by wearing a pink poodle one. Sara had her own mind and made it clear that this is not what she wanted to wear and chose the pink and yellow tutu instead.  Mom took 5 minutes to prepare the proper foods with what was on hand while Aria rounded up a blanket for a tablecloth, picked flowers, and set the table. Viola! a tea party set for a queen (or at least a poodle).

Gee, Diapers

as in "g" diapers which are flushable (although I haven't tried that yet), biodegradable, compostable.

Who knew I could get so excited about diapers!

Check it out at gdiapers.com and watch one break down at http://www.gdiapers.com/happy-planet/watch-them-break-down

and, see how cute they are on my kid!

Mommy Daughter Date

I have the most amazing daughter. She never ceases to make me laugh or amaze me. Like today, when John was telling her all about some kind of hornet (I've forgotten the name, I'm sure Aria has not) anyway, mid explanation she said, "Dad, we're not talking about that now. Now, there's a mysterious problem of a spider in my room and it's not a hobo spider."

 On to our date. Yesterday she decided that she wanted to go on a date with mom and this is what we would do and in this order:

 1- get our fingers and toes painted (Hers were to be pink with sparkles and hearts)

    2-have dinner at noodles and company

  3-go to Starbucks

          4-go see WALL-E

Before we left she said, "Mom, you have to wear something more beautiful." (How do you like that, my 4-year-old is already embarrassed by my choice of clothes). She found my shiny brown Audrey Hepburn flats, got my black skirt and brown knit shirt and helped me dress, she chose earrings, necklace, and bracelet, then put make-up on me and brushed my hair, then told me how beautiful I looked. She did the same for herself complete with beads and lipgloss. We had a wonderful evening and made it through the first three events. After Starbucks, she got in the car and said that she'd take a little rest on the way to the movie. Next thing I know, she's snoring and can't hold her head up. Needless to say, I couldn't wake her for the movie. At 1:00 a.m. she came into my room crying, "We didn't get to see WALL-E. Can we go now?"

 Next day, we plan the rest of our date. Again, I'm told I can't wear what I have on and she chooses a dress and shoes. We were in a bit of a hurry so I didn't get the make-up, jewelry, and hair treatment. She did pack a purse for me though. 

 I loved the movie. Just as Eve makes her grand entrance into the story, Aria leans over and whispers, "That's Eve. Isn't she beautiful." As the credits start to roll, we stay true to our family tradition of going to the front and dancing to the music until the theater goes dark and silent. I was informed that the date couldn't end yet and we finished the evening off with games in the arcade, buying a new outfit for school, and of course a milkbox at Starbucks.

Tres Francais Deja Vu

 Maybe it's something about the angle of the light, or the time in the morning but at 7:50 a.m. out of nowhere I'm taken back to 1986 Lacoste France. Every morning Anne and I would meet on the cobbled stone hill outside my abode. The sun would have just come up over Bonnieux and the village was still in that early morning shade broken up by the long lines of light through the trees. We would set off on our trek for the next village, Lumiere, where we stopped for our routine cafe au lait and croissant - pronounced cwa-saunn as the girl in one of the many French bakerys informed me. She wouldn't give it to me until I pronounced it correctly. I am grateful for her persistence because I've never forgotten the proper pronounciation since. 

  I loved those morning walks. We were two young girls trying to find our place in the world as well as the meaning of art and life. I was there after an eye opening divorce (yes, I have been married before...when I was what now seems very young) and my first year of college in a study abroad at the Lacoste School of the Arts. My world and fantasy of how my life should be had just been shaken up to say the least. Anne and Chris (who was at the time attending school in

 the neighboring town of Aix-en-Provence) were in the beginnings of what would become a very long, long distance relationship which I'm happy to say finally ended (or should I say began) in marriage 5 years ago after 18 years of dating. Anne and I discussed relationships, food addictions, dreams, hopes, struggles and art as we walked every weekday morning. It was my favorite part (along with the U2 concert in Marsailles-another story altogether) of the six week studies I did in this little village below the chateau de Marquis de Sade.  How wonderful it is to wake up in Salt Lake City and for a brief moment be back on the road to Lumiere...

 

Trapped in a 7-11

So I'm out taking my walk at Liberty Park this morning and decide that I'd love an iced coffee. I can either pay $4.00 at Beans & Brew's or $1.27 at 7-11. Being on a budget, I opt for the later. As I enter, I find Mr. T paying for his gas. Seriously, this guy's tattooed biceps are bigger than my thigh which being 2 months postpartum is reeeeaaaalllly big. I proceed in to the coffee counter pushing Azur in his little stroller and feeling really misplaced as I glance around. Various seedy characters come and go around me and believe me, I'm not one to pass judgement. I've befriended those from ever walk of life being the vagabonding artist that I have been. So, I go up to pay standing in line behind a couple of guys whose pants are about to slide right off those boxers their exposing. They pay for 3 monstrous beers with a $100.00 bill that the clerk spends 15 minutes (okay, maybe 15 is an exaggeration) trying to see the watermarks, finally the other clerk points them out to her. So I whip out my debit card for my $1.27 coffee (sorry, didn't have cash) and am ready to bolt out the door as fast as my huge postpartum thighs will carry me when the Eastern Indian clerk behind the counter says in a low, gruff voice, "Lemmme see your baby". Well, I like to show off my perfect kid and happily open the cover of the stroller and at the same time just really want to get out of there and back to the open safety of the park. "How you get baby?" she asks. In my mind I'm thinking, "Well, there's this thing called sex and..." but before I answer, she continues to tell me that she has an 8 year old daughter and wants a son, she got pregnant last year but had an accident and miscarried and she wants to get pregnant again, and "how old you are?" Her eyes get big when I tell her and she says "well I should be able to get baby too." I'm thinking she's at least 50 but come to find out that she's 30! She keeps asking questions and talking which was all very nice except for the continuous stream of more seedy characters that I just know will eventually pull out a gun that I and my perfect 2 month old baby will become casualties of. All the while, she's cleaning out her ears with a bobby pin. Sticking it in, twisting it around, and pulling it out to flick the contents on the floor, then sticking it in the other ear. Finally, I write down the words "Ovulation Predictor Kit" on a piece of paper for her and tell her to get one at a drug store and read the directions. She gives blessings to me and my "baby boy" and asks me to pray that she gets one. I wish her luck, and sincerely mean it, as I finally bolt out the door that the next grimy guy holds open for me. This one I'm sure must be a pedophile. I can't get across the street fast enough. Once safe in the park, I realize that I just experienced a very, strange 15 minutes of  life...could be a great movie scene.

 Oh and then, just as I'm about back to my car, a news film crew stops me to ask if they can ask a few questions. I politely decline as Azur has his 2 month doctor appointment today (happy birthday Azur!). I'm glad I had an excuse because with my sleep deprived mommy brain, I just know that I would have been one of those folks you see on Jay Leno who is asked something really simple like "What's the capital of Utah?" and they say, "ummmmmm...Los Angeles?" when they are being interviewed in Salt Lake City. I just couldn't bear to humiliate myself in that way. 

Taking a Leap

A few weeks ago we went to good ol' Burley Idaho for John's cousins reunion. While there, we visited a huge slippery slide

 made of a long piece of rubber on a hill with water spraying on it. Everyone would get a tube and slide down it. I spent most of our time there 

watching, filming, and taking pictures because I had recently knocked a knife off the counter into my toenail and was told by the podiatrist not to soak it in order to avoid infections (this was much better than what they had told me when I called which was that I would most likely have to have the whole toenail removed..Aghh!). Anyway, what was really interesting was to watch Aria. She so desperately wanted to do it by herself and was so scared. She'd get to the top with her little tube, sit down to go, then start crying as she got back up again and ran away. She did this over and over and cried harder and harder with each attempt. It was a cry of being afraid and a cry of being upset that she wanted to do it so much and just couldn't get herself to take that leap. She knew she'd be okay, she'd gone with Daddy multiple times, she watched everyone else do it, and yet she just couldn't let herself go, and she was so mad/sad at herself for it. After going with cousin Adria one more time she got up the nerve to do it alone but only if someone would catch her. Big mistake. Poor cousin Riley and Aria smacked into each other with a pretty good force. Everyone survived but Aria was now mad that he tried to stop her, mad enough that she went right back up to go down on her own, which was the beginning of many, many trips down that slide. How wonderful it was to watch her overcome her fear and take that leap. And, how much it reminded myself of me, her very cautious mama who was happy to have an excuse to sit on the side until finally, inspired by her daughter went down as well holding her toe in the air away from the water. Forget about getting me on the zipline though.

... maybe next year.

Expanding Love

  Here's a sneak preview of my upcoming August story. Obviously, it was mostly written 4 weeks ago as Azur will be 7 weeks old tomorrow. Seven weeks already. Seven weeks without a full night sleep (well actually it's been months since I've had a full night since being pregnant the last trimester means no sleeping). Seven weeks of newborn bliss, watching little legs turn into chubby pinch-able marshmellows. As Kelli says, "Seven weeks of my life that I'll never get back again" although in this case, unlike the case of a really bad movie,  I really wish I could just to revisit that sacred newness any time I wanted. I guess it's more sentimental knowing that it's the last time I'll go down this road....

 Anyway, here's the next story and to read past "Babying the Buddha"s, go to the catalyst  link below and search articles by moi:

catalystmagazine.net

In the past three weeks my world has changed dramatically. On May 29th a new love came into my life. Although I had a hard time imagining ever loving another child as much as I love my daughter, it happened. This new little black haired, eight-pound boy increased the capacity of my heart.
I’ve returned to a distant yet familiar place of interrupted sleep; if not by a hungry baby, by a paranoid need to make sure he’s still breathing. This is a place where days and nights blend together and become about breastfeeding every 2-3 hours. During these times I’m forced to be still. Not such a bad thing to be forced to do. In these moments I get lost in the beauty of my new baby, staring at the tiny nails on his fingers and toes, and the perfection of his little features. I sit healing from being torn open (literally and figuratively) empowered by my part in the miracle of life.
A new aspect of being a mother to a newborn is to also be a mother of a four year old at the same time. There have been times where I feel as if I exist simply to fulfill the needs of others. And yet, I recognize how short and magical this exhausting time is and how important it is for each of my children to feel loved and cared for. So between feeding, comforting, and changing diapers, I try to make a conscious point of bonding with Aria. Sometimes it’s simply watching her dance and listening to her latest song or story. I miss my “dates” with her, just the two of us on our own. As time goes on, we’ll be able to schedule that time together again.
Also new to me was the beauty and love between a big sister and her newborn baby brother. To listen to her tell him all the things that she will teach him to do; talk, walk, drink from a cup, and her plans of the adventures they will take together, brings not only a smile to my face but tears to my eyes.
There’s a simple peacefulness about this time, a going inward in bliss and joy while walking through a dazed fogginess. There is a certain disconnectedness as the aspects of my former life have no congruency or completion. Every time they are started, they are interrupted and laundry sits in the dryer for days and the mail remains half opened in a pile.
As I give every ounce of energy, I still gain. I learn to surrender to what’s before me and not to expect so much from myself. I’ve been presented with an opportunity to practice patience and compassion with my family and myself on a myriad of different levels. These two beautiful children teach me (and test me) daily. I’m in constant appreciation for the truly miraculous opportunity my husband and I have been given by having them come into our lives. Most of all, I’ve been reminded that love begets love, the more you love, the more you have to give.

Too tired to type

It's 12:17 am on what is now a Monday morning. Azur's sleeping next to me and I know the old "sleep when your baby sleeps" would really apply to the midnight hour. Yet, I'm sitting here trying to put together my very own blog...something John has been encouraging/nagging me to to for months. So here it is, well the start of it because at this moment, I'm really too tired to type.. but, it's a start.