Our Day In Five Senses

Sound

• The whir of an electric fan
• The thud of a 95 year old door
• The quiet rumble of stroller wheels
  
• A chorus of tree swallows
• The distant putter of a lawn mower
  

Sight

• Golden sunlight filtered through tree tops
  
• An elusive Six-Spotted Tiger Beetle...I didn't think anything in nature could be this color (green metallic), but I guess when your name is Cicindela sexguttata, you deserve to be flashy!
  
• A hopscotch chalking on a bumpy sidewalk
• My bare-bellied boy sitting in the grass
  
• Peonies so voluptuous, they could not keep their heads up
• A caterpillar on a dandelion stem
  

Smell

• Billowy, red poppies in full bloom that just last week, were nothing more than tight, stubbly fists
• Fresh cut grass

Touch

• Bare feet on old oak floors
• Soft skin pressed against mine
• Crisp cotton sheets
  

Taste

• A cold bottle of water dripping with rivulets of condensation
  
• A leftover banana mini cake from Satchel's birthday, that I nibbled while he napped
  

You at One

“Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You.” - Dr. Seuss

• You have 8 teeth
• You don't crawl, but are a superb roller
• You can sign "milk"
  
• You are trying very hard to walk
• You love organic cheeses and yogurt
  
• You have your daddy's legs
• You have your mama's facial expressions
• You are a masterful mimic
• You have an amazing sense of humor
  
• You wave, clap and high five
  
• You do a very cute shimmy
  
• You love being outdoors
• You say, "Ow" when you pull my hair too hard
• You now look at books, not chew them
• You love your stroller and your bike
• You have many gorgeous smiles
• You have the most glorious laugh

Birthday Letters: One

 





















Dear Satchel,
Today you are a year old and I can hardly believe how quickly the time has passed. Yesterday morning as we lay together in bed, you were laughing in your sleep again. I watched you dreaming while reflecting on my joyful, wondrous pregnancy and your powerful birth. I think it's important that we know our stories. I want to write it all down because I never want to forget it. It is your story, posted at the exact time of your birth.

I learned that no matter how many classes you take, no matter how many books you read, no matter how well you prepare - nothing can truly prepare you for the magnitude of birth, the power and beauty of which can drive you to your knees. We wrote a wonderful birth plan that we think you would approve of, but we learned that while having a plan is important, you need to be flexible incase the unexpected happens.

It was near midnight when I felt what I can only describe as a slipping or a clunk in my pelvis that woke me from a deep sleep which was followed by an intense contraction and pressure in my back. I remembered what I read about back labor so I rolled onto my hands and knees to create a "baby hammock" and told your daddy to call our doula and doctor. Our bags were already packed in the living room in anticipation of this moment. Daddy grabbed our bags and headed to the car. I quickly threw on a pair of yoga pants and my "anniversary t-shirt" with the photo of the tulips your daddy gave me on the 1 year anniversary of our first date. Once in the car I realized that I couldn't sit so I kneeled backwards on the front seat holding the headrest. Every time daddy stepped on the brake the contractions became more intense. I must have slept through early labor because I was already in the thick of it when we got to the birth center.

At the door of the birth center we were greeted with a wheel chair, but sitting was out of the question. I wanted to walk. My mind was cloudy having woken from sleep and because I was in the fog of labor. I could hear daddy directing me to the right place..."turn right", "now a left". I had to stop and get on my hands and knees on the floor during another contraction. Chris, our doula, was already there and led me to the birth tub. I removed my pants, but left my anniversary shirt on. The tub was warm and relaxing. The water floated you upward in my belly away from my spine. The massage jets on my feet helped take my mind off the contractions which felt almost electrical as if it were a great rumbling that I could feel coming towards me in the distance and then passed over me with such a force that there was no denying something miraculous was happening. It was as if every cell in my body was vibrating and announcing, "Satchel is coming"! We floated there together, over wave after wave of contractions, laboring in the tub until the sun came up. I gave myself permission to do what felt natural. I moaned and allowed myself to make what ever noise I needed to. I was mindful to relax my jaw and breathe. There were moments of self doubt where I didn't think I could withstand the intensity and asked for medication, but my doula and your daddy helped guide me back to my wish for a natural birth.

I was shocked that it was day time when I got out of the tub and walked to the birthing room. The labor became more intense outside of the tub and I wished we could have stayed in it. I stayed on my hands and knees, hugging a bed pillow. 12 hours had passed and it was time to push. I was both exhausted and excited. I couldn't wait to meet you, to see your face. The pushing was a relief and seemed to alleviate the contractions. I pushed for almost two hours when suddenly it didn't feel right. That is the only way I can describe it. Something inside me told me that we were not going to have the natural birth we had hoped for. I said to our doctor, "Something doesn't feel right, I think you need to go get him". I continued to push hoping that you would be able to get through my pelvis. I pushed until I was told to stop pushing and was given an epidural injection. This was the most difficult time...trying to stay still in the throes of intense contractions. I lost my focus and wailed, but our doula once again centered me and I was able to breathe through the contractions.

I was nervous about the surgery and had to tell the doctor a couple of times that I could feel something sharp so they adjusted the medication. Suddenly, I heard your voice...the sweetest little cry and I said, "that is the most beautiful sound I've ever heard". Your daddy brought you to me and I said, "Satchel...I love you...I love you". I heard one of the nurses say, "I think he knows his name" and another said, "he looks like he's smiling". Your daddy replied, "we have pictures of him smiling in utero". Then I either fainted or fell asleep from exhaustion. Your daddy held you the whole time and never left your side.

The next thing I remember was being wheeled into the recovery room. I heard a nurse say, "did you see Wendy's baby, he's so beautiful". I smiled.

Afterwards, when our wonderful doctor came to check me, I had some self doubt about the c-section, I told him that I felt I had given up. He said, "Wendy, I've never seen anyone push as hard as you...you were still pushing while we were trying to prep you". He told me that it was a good decision because your head was positioned crooked in my pelvis and that you were so stuck, he had to have a nurse push while he pulled.

You and I worked very hard together, Satchel. I think that my scoliosis may have thwarted our plans. What matters most, Satch, is that you arrived.....healthy, happy and beautiful!

We stayed together as a family in our own room. I couldn't believe you were finally here...so pink, tiny, soft, and perfect...so peaceful and wise looking. While you were sleeping in my arms, I whispered to you, "I wish you could tell me everything you know before you forget". Someone, I can't remember who, said to me, "he looks as though he as all the wisdom of the universe in his eyes". I couldn't wait to nurse you and when I took you to my breast, I was astonished by how strong you were, how quickly you latched on and went to work. I loved holding you and watching you sleep in my arms.

The next morning I was in extreme pain when I sat up and could barely swallow. I had leaked a lot of spinal fluid during the epidural and had to go back to the O.R. for a "blood patch" (a transfusion of my own blood into my spine). It seemed to do the trick.

The day we brought you home was very emotional. While Daddy went to load the car, I watched you sleep and started crying. A nurse named Cathy asked me if I was alright and I told her, "I'm overwhelmed by happiness".

The following morning, I was in pain again and I had to go back to the O.R. for a second blood patch. Your daddy made me laugh a lot throughout the whole ordeal. I think you have your daddy's sense of humor because the first time I felt you move inside my belly was when I when we were all sitting around laughing at Aunt Laura's house in Kansas City.

And that, dear Satchel, is the story of your birth! Carrying you within was wondrous. Birthing you was powerful and profound. I thank you for chosing me to be your doorway to the world and allowing me to mother you.

Happy Birthday, my love!

Mama

Photos from Satchel's Leap click here.

Lift Yourself High

"But the sky knows the reasons and the patterns behind all clouds, and you will know, too, when you lift yourself high enough to see beyond horizons.”

-Richard Bach








It was a warm, sunny day so we decided to take a drive to Niagra Falls.

We figured Satch would nap on the way as driving so often induces napping. Satch, as always, threw us a curve ball. He stayed awake during the drive and fell asleep during the walk from the lot to the falls.

Mama Tribe

I want to thank all the kindred mamas who visit my blog. Thank you for your comments, your cards, your letters, your emails. I am grateful for your presence in the world and appreciate your voice on my blog. Below is an email that I received from an amazing mama in Oregon! (posted with permission)

To:	wendy@
Subject:	Your blog...
Date:	May 25, 2006 9:50 PM

Hiya Wendy,

I just wanted to say bravo to you. I came across your blog while browsing other blogs about scrapbooking, art, parenting....Ali Edwards (one I visit often), Keri Smith, then one named Pixie, then yours...

I just had to tell you how much I admire you. For doing as you believe, for standing up for your son, for being who you are! I have 3 children, aged 15, 9 and 7. I so remember those days of seeing other Mamas spank, hit their babies, refuse to nurse because it was "gross", laugh about circumcising their sons because, after all, he caused them pain during birth, so hey, it's a pay-back.....blech, blech, blech....

I hear the wee-bit of self doubt though, I think, in your posts....is it indeed ok to not leave your son on the sheet when he cries for you, or is that what causes them to be insecure and cry for you more....

I can tell you! (o; My kids are older, were never left to cry (though some days and nights we cried together....lol), and were never left to toughen up. My kids are secure, trusting and confident people. My kids are what my pediatrician calls the result of *giving* in to their wants and needs as babies, not leaving them alone, not believing that I was spoiling them or creating monsters....because in his belief, AP parenting creates the opposite. He claims in his practice he can tell which babies are AP'd and which are not. Which are more full of life, trust and confidence....the AP ones.

It's not always easy. Our kids are not always happy, or secure. They sometimes still need me. But I would not have it any other way. Parenting is hard no matter how you do it or look at it....but parenting from the heart just feels better, and you see your hard work and selflessness creating strong, secure and confident beings.

You are doing an awesome job!!!!

Love,

Another Mama....in Oregon.....

Pure Joy!

"Well I've never met anyone
With your courage
And the way you enjoy life
Puts me to shame."
- Joan Armatrading



Satch got a tricycle for his birthday from his "great aunt, Cackie" and "great grandpa, Gully". It seems he likes a good set of wheels just as much as his mom and dad. I look forward to telling him stories about riding all over Manhattan on my Stingray, and how it got stolen...so my friend Fawn gave me her son Dylan's swell mountain bike which (unlike my vintage shockless stingray) made a mockery of cobblestone, and SoHo curbs.

What a thrill flying down 5th Ave and running into David Byrne with his big silver helmet, looking mighty cosmic like one of those peruvian scrawls that can only be seen from the air and chatting him up in rush hour traffic....and stories of his daddy's morning rides along the Hudson River to the GWB, returning sweaty and invigorated. No battery powered vehicles for us...we love our pedals!

Dare I mention that Satch slept well last night and had 2 naps today!?!? Thank you all for your encouraging words and wishes. I'm grateful for the Pixies, Charmed Spirits and Jewels.

No Hitter

I sat in a circle of women and we shared stories from our childhood. We talked about being hit as children, how it affected us and the way we choose to parent. Most of us in the circle were disciplined by spanking. Most, if not all of us felt it was abusive. I felt that being "spanked" as a child destroyed my sense of trust and also affected my adult life. For instance, I have found that as a young adult I often put up with more crap from people than I really should have, avoided confrontation and was afraid to speak my mind. Some years and a stack of self-help books later, I realized the source of my fears, was able to set boundaries and speak my mind.


A wonderful mama-to-be (due this summer) shared her story, and her's touched me so deeply that I asked permission to write about it. She too was disciplined by hitting and here's the rest of her story:

She said, "You know how you have a childhood memory that you can never forget?...Well when I was 9 years old, my father apologized. He told me that back in Vietnam that is how they disciplined and that was all he knew, but since we moved to the U.S. he learned to do things a different way and he was sorry for hitting me. Now as adults, we're like buddies".

I wish all parents would have the guts to apologize to their children for mistakes that they made. Denying or pretending that it didn't happen by not discussing it doesn't make the memory, the hurt or resentment go away. I feel parents should validate their child's experience just as this father did as it demonstrated respect, compassion and love. He showed that he was human, imperfect, but with a willingness to grow.

At a baby shower last weekend I met a woman with a babe 3 months younger than Satch. I noticed that he was gently touching his mama's hair. I remarked, "That's so sweet...he's so gentle. Satchel still tugs quite hard". The woman replied, "Well he used to do that too, but I kept smacking his hand and eventually he stopped".

I felt as if I caved in on myself. I could never do that. I believe that hitting is abuse. I would never want my son to distrust me, to resent me, to fear me or to feel any of the confusing emotions that consume you when someone who "loves" you physically hurts you.

(I asked my husband about his childhood. Though he doesn't remember much of his childhood, he said that was disciplined by "spanking" until the age of six. His parents became Dr. Spock-ers.)

Over the years I've read many books in an attempt to mend old wounds and for personal growth. I believe the information has enabled me to be a better parent.

Here are some gems for dealing with your childhood "baggage":

• Healing the Child Within by Charles Whitfield, M.D.
• Mothering Ourselves by Evelyn Bassoff, PhD
• Toxic Parents by Dr. Susan Forward

And some wonderful books on discipline:

• The Discipline Book by Dr. Sears
• How to Talk So Kids Will Listen by Adele Faber
  

Some inspiring words from Mama Says Om!

The Edge

Satchel has had several rough days and nights. His sleep has been fitfull and he woke frequently, often in tears. Exhausted and frustrated, I feel more like a living binky than a human being. He's not much better during the day...refusing to eat, or play...he doesn't seem to know what he wants and I just don't know how to help him. Motherhood has redefined my concept of "tired", yet it has also redefined my concept of "joy".

At 7:30 this morning, after several outbursts of tears, I took him for a walk hoping that the stillness of the morn would help calm him. The grass glistened with dew in the early light and we were surrounded by a chorus of birds.









Through the tangle of melodies, I was able to follow the song of a male cardinal and found him perched on the peak of a nearby roof. He sounded as if he were whistling at a pretty girl then broke into a staccato. The cool, moist air was heavy with the scent of wet bark, dark earth and green grass.















Though I could see steam rising from the wet roof of a small barn, the sun had not dried the flowers enough to lift a scent and the perfume remained inside the sleepy buds.















I walked him for 2 hours and he fell asleep during the stroll.


















He awoke just as miserable as he had been the past few days. While I felt a little more rejuvenated from the fresh air, I also felt myself sinking along with Satchel's mood. Once home I tried different activities to amuse him, all of which lasted mere minutes before another bout of fussing and crying. Finally I put him in the sling and though he continued to fuss, he fell asleep sitting up. Just as I felt my body relax, he jerked himself awake and began crying again, but I was able to take him bed and nurse him back to sleep. Now napping, I dare not make myself lunch for fear of waking him.














Satchel will be celebrating his first birthday next Saturday. I hope I can make it through the song with out any tears. I can hardly believe it's been a year. Satchel waves at my belly cast as if saluting his first home and in the evening when I lie beside him nursing him to sleep, I often reflect on his birth...so powerful, so profound. I plan to make him a tiny wholesome banana cake with cream cheese frosting. The recipe is from Magnolia Bakery where his Dada and Mama went on their first date. His candle will be held by a tiny silver elephant that my friend Susan sent him. I chose an elephant for his first candle in honor of Kedar, the baby elephant who lost his life at the Syracuse Zoo. He was born 8 days before Satch and would have celebrated his first birthday on May 14th. I think when Satchel is older, he will approve of my choice for first candle. Kedar means "powerful" or "mighty one" in Hindi.












Satch is now awake and crying. I'm sure I'll be crying too before the day ends. I can only hope that this is a phase. I hope it passes quickly as it is very difficult to bear.

Fleur Du Jour

"The earth laughs in flowers" - Ralph Waldo Emerson

The sun came out so Satch and I seized the moment and went out for one of our discovery walks. Branches, no longer bare, provided a canopy of green. The quilt of lawns beneath were dappled with sunlight. There was one Gingko tree in the neighborhood...and my mind drifted to the Gingko trees that line Leroy Street in Greenwich Village and how they look very much like a pointillist painting. I always thought it should be called Seurat Street instead of Leroy.


We discovered Lilacs in bloom. I picked a small branch and tickled his nose with it so that he could inhale the scent.















I spotted some very small blooms growing beneath a hedge. Waxy and pastel, they looked more suited for a cake than the earth.















We returned for lunch and a nap. Satch napped for 10 minutes and awoke crying. We played in the living room for a bit before trying another nap. Just when I thought he was settling in to some sort of routine he spices things up a bit. My kindred mama, Pixie, reminded me in a recent email, not to have any expectations. I think this is brilliant! If I don't expect Satchel to nap, it will be a nice surprise when he does...and if he doesn't, I won't be disappointed.

As Oscar Wilde once said, "Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative".

Thanks, Satch, for keeping me guessing.

Lineage

(Left) Satchel's Dada and Grandmother, Sheila
(Right) Satchel's Mama and Grammy, Joyce

"I believe that these circles of women around us weave invisible nets of love that carry us when we're weak and sing with us when we're strong" - SARK from Succulent Wild Woman

Happy Mother's Day to my circle of Mamas!!!
Thank you, Satchel, for this day.

Obbity Bobbity

"The best way to make children good is to make them happy." - Oscar Wilde

My friend Phoebe has an expression that she would say when ever something felt weird. "Obbity Bobbity", she would sigh. That is how I felt this afternoon when I learned that the veggie burgers were eaten by the carnivores and the only BBQ left was a platter of cow patties...except I didn't sigh "Obbity Bobbity", I sighed, "f_ _ king unbelievable". I didn't mean for it to come out of my mouth, but it did. It wasn't so much the disappointment of having my lunch eaten as it was the comment I overheard as I walked toward the kitchen.

You see, I had intended to leave Satch on the sheet with B so I could grab some food, but he didn't want to stay with her so I took him with me. As I walked away I heard someone say, "that's why he does that because she lets him". (Does What? Reaches for his Mama?!?!) It should be noted that the person who made this comment doesn't know me very well nor my son and I have a pretty good idea that we don't share the same parenting philosophy, i.e. Attachment Parenting. It should also be noted that just a mere 5 minutes prior, someone asked me, "Is Satch always this happy"?

Yes...he is a happy child.

I held my breath and remembered what my friend Larry ( a holistic pediatrician ) told me...."Hey Wendsters, hang in there. You're doing the right thing and your son will be better for it. People will always have something to say.....ALWAYS. Quietly, in your own way, either aloud or under your breath, say, thank you very much, even though you're telling them to _(*_(&^*&% off!!! " (Thank you, Lobster, your presence give me hope for the world)

That is what I tried to do, but when I got to the kitchen door I said "f_ _king unbelievable".

I believe that Satchel is entitled to his opinions, his wants, his needs, his likes, his dislikes. At this early stage in his development I feel it's my duty to respect his wishes. At this time in his life, "No's" are saved for things that can harm him. There will be plenty of time for behavior modification as he gains a better concept of the world around him. At this early age, his needs (both physical and emotional) are satisfied and his requests are acknowledged not ignored. I think Satch is such a happy child because he knows he is understood, that he is heard and respected.

Another person that gives me hope for the world is Jan Hunt who wrote the wonderful book,
"The Natural Child - Parenting from the Heart".....and of course, our beloved Mr. Geisel.

"People are people no matter how Small" - Theodore Seuss Geisel

In My Arms

"All I ever wanted
All I ever needed
Is here in my arms"
- Depeche Mode







Sunday I was hired to paint a mural in a nursery. On the way there, I spotted some toys by the curb and I made Robert turn the car around. I jumped out and asked if they were being discarded. "Take 'em all!", the fellow replied and I tossed them in the trunk for Satch. The toys were in minty condition. I grabbed a teeter-totter, two chunky trucks and some swell sand toys.

Gathering up these little treasures for my boy put me in a really great mood for painting. I worked all day painting sea creatures, stopping only to pump breast milk. When Robert and Satch came to pick me up, we joined the BBQ taking place outside and ate a juicy grilled Portobello.

Yesterday - I transplanted Day Lillies and Dahlias from one bed to another and watered the seedlings in the western bed. I noticed that our apple tree was in bloom and the smell was heavenly. We could hear the drone of the bees in the tree top. In the late afternoon, Satch and I sat in the grass, ate some Cheerios, dodged a few bees, and had a few laughs before my camera strap became a chew toy.

Daddy bought Satch this adorable red bucket hat. What I like about it is that you can shape it...it can look like a fedora one minute and a cowboy hat the next. It sort of fits his persona: The Groovy Satch Master Flash. He acquired his DJ name when he began mixing beats in his Intellitainer.

Lunch

“It is more fun to talk with someone who doesn't use long, difficult words
but rather short, easy words like 'What about lunch?'”

- Winnie the Pooh


Satch went on another food strike, refusing food that he normally loves. The only thing he will eat these days is yogurt so I save that for dinner. It seems having a full belly induces a good evening nurse and a restful sleep. (restful meaning: 3-4 nurses at night as opposed to 10) Since he really enjoys feeding himself, I decided to try some Horizon Organic Monterey Jack cheese for lunch, sliced paper thin and cut into tiny bits. Satch picked up a piece and thoroughly investigated it before putting it in his mouth. He then nodded is head and chanted "Mah, Mah, Mah" which in Satchel-ese means "More". He is very cautious about the food that I put on his tray, yet he will stick a piece of lint in his mouth without even a moment of hesitation when he sees me coming to take it from him.

I love to watch him eat...the way his little fingers pinch bits of food and the serious expression on his face as he examines a new flavor. I especially love when he gets a piece of food caught on his lip and then uses the back of his chubby fist to push it back into his mouth.

I try to etch these images in my mind...I photograph, I write, I record his voice.

I was thinking a lot about what Christina Rosalie wrote today regarding journaling, "There must be some secret in this: that memory only holds so much. Perhaps we would not move with agility into the future of each moment, if we could fully contain the memory of each passing day. But days like today beg for more. More noticing, more attention".

This too, is why I keep coming to the page in both print and pixels to remember moments of wonder and beauty.

Perspective

Last night I had a hypnopompic dream in which I found some little plastic sea animals washed up on a beach. I thought Satch would really like the toys so I picked up a whale and put in my pocket when suddenly I noticed my ArtBin float by. I grabbed it and saw more of my supplies being carried out by the tide. I found a crate and quickly began tossing my belongings into it, but saw more wonderful toys and soon it became a struggle over salvaging my art supplies or gathering toys for my baby.

I think my subconscious mind is acknowledging the struggle to find balance between mother and artist. I find that I have to limit my creativity to small simple projects as motherhood leaves me with little free time for more complex productions.

I welcome any sages out there to send their thoughts a/o suggestions. Lately I prefer the wisdom of the bear to that of Yoda.

Impromptu Picnic

You're like a butterfly
A gospel choir
A sun kissed sky
You're like sensual velvet
The rhythm of your heart
is like a sonnet
Pure and sweet....
- Joan Armatrading

On our way home from a late afternoon stroll in search of wonders and beauty, we saw our neighbor, Paul, sitting in the middle of his sprawling front lawn. We decided to join him and a threw down a sheet beside him. (I keep one in the car and one in the stroller for impromptu picnics). The grass was cool and stippled with daisies and violets. Satchel kept touching the grass and giggling. If you've met Satch than you are already aware of his contagious laugh.

















Below: some images from our stroll