One year later

A year ago, Chad and I planted two apple trees in our front yard and I snapped a photo of Tate standing next to the taller of the two. It was just a twig, and so was he. If he looks a little sullen in the photo, it's because about an hour later he began retching...and didn't stop for nearly three days. (More disgusting details could follow here, but won't.)

I can't get over how teeny he is here. 

A year later, here they are again. The tree looks like a teenager -- spindly and gawky, but it has its first wee apple buds starting to grow, which thrills me to no end. And Tate is still holding on tightly to his toddler belly but is getting longer and leaner everyday. 

Who knows how long we'll stay in Portland and how long I'll be able to document my son's growth versus the growth of a certain Pacific Rose apple tree. I have visions of him coming home from college or even high school -- this strapping lad that rests his arm on the sturdy girth of our blossoming apple tree -- we snap a picture, post it on our blog, and all go inside to eat homemade apple pie. Because of course, in dreams like this where boys come home from college to see mom, apple harvest is in springtime.

Flora, Fauna, Taters

In the two years of Tate's little life, I have made it a priority to get him out in nature as much as possible, to teach him to appreciate all of the different flowers and critters and trees of the great Pacific Northwest. Ever since we moved to Portland, we have gone on weekly hikes in the spectacular Forest Park and the whole time I prattle on about flora and fauna, greeting all that we see. "Hello, moss. How are you, slug? Hi there, yellow finch." For the first year, he bounced along silently in my trusty (and indispensable) Ergo, seemingly more interested in pulling my braid than anything else. But lately, he is looking outwards more. And apparently, he has been listening. Here is his current list of correctly identified living things that he himself can point out in the wild. Domesticated and zoo animals have not been included but for the record, he is bananas about otters. 

Finches, blue-jays, crows, chickadees, seagulls, and twice now, bald eagles. Spiders, bumblebees, ladybugs, slugs, squirrels, moss, ferns, tulips, daffodils, crocuses, dandelions, and his favorite -- lavender. He will spot lavender from a mile away and run towards it, full tilt. Okay, a block. He loves the stuff. My mom used to take me on walks as a child and point out the names of flowers (as her father did) and I have always appreciated that.

He can only learn as much as I can teach him and sadly, I am reaching my limit. My list is sort of similar to the one above....I know my flowers, a handful of birds, some plants, and hardly any trees. It's kind of embarrassing. Oak tree, maple tree, cypress tree......uh, big tree, little tree. I'll have to get a guidebook of sorts to help me keep learning as this kid is gaining on me fast. I love it, though. I hope to teach him to hear a bird song and know what it is, to take a hike through the woods and to truly appreciate the company of the trees he is among, and to learn all of the sweet lessons that non-humans have to teach. 

Motherhood: The Great Humbler

Ah, it's Mother's Day. I never considered Mother's Day to be a day for me until one day it happened, and there was Tate, gripping a little box in his three month old hands as a hand over from his papa. It sort of floored me - that I was suddenly a member of this group of women that I had always honored. Since then, it's been one of my favorite days of the year -- maybe after Thanksgiving and the Christmas-Tree-Cut-Down-Day. 

I have pondering Mother's Day all month this year. Reflecting on all of the women in my life who have shaped me and who continue to be enormous, inspirational influences in my life. Today as I was running in a park and wished another woman a Happy Mother's Day, I realized that somewhere along this journey of female-hood, all competition between me and other women melted away and they truly became sisters, teachers to me. I am pretty sure that it was the same time that I became a mother myself, although some of the women in my life that are my teachers are not necessarily mothers themselves. Perhaps this is because motherhood is the great equalizer, the great humbler, and I opened myself up to their lessons. 

It's a time in life when you are so sleep deprived that you are sure it should be illegal for you to share the road and when you find yourself sleeping on a carpet next to a crib, straining to recall the last refrains of Michael Row the Boat Ashore because your toddler is mumbling "more, more." Women go through the weird wonders of pregnancy and the barriers begin to break down as you laugh about how you can't sneeze without peeing your pants and how this-weird-thing-happened-today-and-is-that-okay.  And then when the baby is born, you find yourselves leaning over cups of steaming tea with wide eyes, whispering about chaffed nipples or the time that you lost your patience with your toddler or how terrified you were when your child had a febrile seizure or the horror you faced when you had a miscarriage or the time that you were so overwhelmed with the love of your child that when he took your face in his sweaty little hands and said, "Hi, angel", your heart burst into a million pieces. 

There was a time in my life when I cared if Girl A made a 98 on an English paper when I made a 93. I actually used my elbows against girls when running the 1600 back in high school, and yes -- they were pointy. When you are a child, none of that competition exists -- if they are on the playground and so are you, well then it's a good match. It creeps up when you are in high school, college, and then a bit after. But then when the gravity of things so much bigger than yourself creep onto your lap, you find yourself looking across the table and asking each other for help, for understanding, and for grace. This has been one of the biggest gifts of motherhood to me: genuine sisterhood with other women. 

My mom has taught me that she has such an abundance of love to give me when I open up to her. 

My sister has taught me that when I am in trouble, she is the first person to have my back. And she will call incessantly until I am better. 

My sister-in-law, Erin, has taught me about the strength of being gentle.

My dear Molly has reminded me to stay true to myself, to the Leslie that hung upside down with her on the monkey bars in my backyard for most of my childhood.

My lifelong friend and mentor Lynne has shown me an incredible example of happy individuality, happy motherhood, and a happy marriage. She has been both a rock and a soft place to land on when I'm exhausted. 

My grandmother has shown me strength in her ability to be more vulnerable, more seen, even as she gets older.

My friend Bekah has shown me what courage there is in admitting that you need help when you do, and what freedom and joy comes as a result of that.

My friend Erin has taught me about the joy of providing a wholesome, warm, peaceful environment.

These are just a few that I wanted to share. Tonight, in addition to the wonderful blessing I have in my sweet Tate, I am thankful for these women that have taught me so much about being a woman, about being a mother.