Kaylie and Sam Dancing the Night Away

Sam and I went to Seattle for Chauntelle and Eric's wedding. We had so much fun. Unfortunately I don't have a lot of pictures of the event because I was busy having fun, but I did take a short video of Fred and Ginger, I mean Sam and Kaylie. OK...I should admit because you'll see for yourself, Kaylie has the moves and Sam dances like the white boy that he is. Not to worry, he's taking dance class with Ava so he'll be ready to impress the ladies very soon.

Sam in Seattle Revisited

Eight years ago this month, I moved to Buffalo by way of my Aunt Julie offering me a plane ticket and then I didn’t use the return portion. It was a move by impulse or maybe it was the first link in a chain.

The decision not to return led to my brother moving to Buffalo, which led to buying the Golf Club, which led to me working there, which led to meeting Dave, which led to Sam. One missed return trip and I got the life I always wanted.

I’ve wondered if destiny looks like impulse but is truly part of a greater plan (this would mean of course that all those Snickers bars have divine purpose); or alternatively if a bunch of random choices are put into play at once, the motion forward just looks like destiny.

But in the background of destiny or coincidence unfolding, I’ve harbored a secret resentment against Seattle. I never wanted to move away but the last few years I lived there, I felt pushed out by the expense and traffic and the worst of it—no matter how hard I tried I could not realize my dreams. When you live in the midst of Microsoft Millionaires realizing their dreams every other Tuesday and 2x on Friday…I became peevish.

But seeing Seattle with Sam--well, the boy has a powerful effect on his Mama’s perception. This trip I focused on Sam. Mostly we did stuff that I never did when I lived there or if I did do, it could not be more different with a toddler in tow. Instead of catering out at the Aquarium, Sam and I watched jellyfish swim and parachute around a tube. We stayed with my brother in Sammamish and attended Eric and Chauntelle’s wedding in Maple Valley—places I barely heard of. We made new friends—Lucas and his moms rather than seeing a lot of my old pals (next time). I did get to enjoy a couple nights in Seattle old style—Phyllis treated us to a night at the Wild Ginger/Triple Door. Nothing like Curried Catfish and Coconut Martinis to remind a girl what she loved about Seattle. Sam stayed with a certified Nanny at the Kryzell house. It was a high end evening for us both.

After this trip, I’m thinking that maybe my life isn’t unfolding by destiny or coincidence but rather biology or what passes for biology in my brain. For years my father has tried to teach me how ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny: In the embryo, supposedly the fetus develops through evolutionary history. Here is the magical realism version of it: Maybe when I was an embryo I stalled in the salmon stage of evolution. It wasn’t coincidence or destiny that brought me to Buffalo, I just needed to swim up my home river to spawn. And because this is magical realism biology, maybe someday the shrimp and his kipper (and his mom) will get to go back out to sea together. I do so miss my fellow fish.

Sam's Peops: Summer and Autumn

We’ve had a busy summer and autumn. Summer was spent fixing the never ending remodel of our home so that this autumn I could paint trim and Dave could start nursing school. On Dave’s first night of school, he packed his bag full of books: Beginning Anatomy, Beginning Psychology and Goodnight Gorilla. Sam insisted. And the next night Sam packed Elmo Loves You into his dad’s book bag. You never know when I Want to Be Your Personal Penguin will be a necessary reference.

Just Sam 08

I don’t get the whole “terrible 2” phenomenon. If anything it should be the terrible 22 months (hitting, yelling, toppling, it’s a tough age). I know every mother says every ages is the best (except for 15), but 2 has been a blast and I only have a few more months of it. He’s so spunky and chatty and full of his own self. He says things like, “How ‘bout you? Wanna play?” and “No Way, Mama” and "That's not nice". He breaks up time into "today" which is when all good things happen and "tomorrow" which is when he wants to brush his teeth. On his walks he picks for me a bouquet of leaves and he requests hugs and kisses. He pretends to be a tiger and roars and chases who ever will be chased. He threatens to “Eat You Up” like Max from Where the Wild Things Are. He and Dave make robots out of legos and they play “GaGa and Grampa come for a visit.” Our friend Mary says that Sam is a “happy go lucky kid”. He totally is.

The Peops (and a Flower) Photoshopped

I usually take an Adobe class at CEPA Gallery to keep my brain from turning into Mommy Glue. And then my brother gave me a subscription to Photoshop User. I've obviously been using the online/magazine tutorials and all the fun stuff I've learned in my classes in Sam's blog. This time around, I'm taking Abraham's Children: Primal Narratives of Islam, Judaism and Christianity at Trinity. Cam Miller the rector at Trinity is teaching it and he's smart and interesting but I don't think this class will play out as well in the blog. Maybe later on in the quarter, Sam and I will burn a bush and post it.

Exponential Petticoat Junction

Summer has begun and the windows in our neighborhood are open. Sam awakes in the morning to the random giggles and cries of the girls next door. He climbs out of his crib, runs to the window and in his best Marlon Brando circa Street Car Named Desire yells, “E-l-l-l-l-l-l-l--a.” He screams for her as if this is the very acme of his adventure and in order to get the girl (who actually is the “girl next door”), he must divulge the depths of his love and despair. And then he repeats this performance after his nap.

We live next door to three of the prettiest little girls—Cassidy, Ella and Sophia. Next door to them live three more girls.

Not to dismiss the girls' merits, but as a Once-Upon-a-Time-English-Major I can’t help but notice that we are living in the classic fairy tale plot of the three sisters. They are challenged by beasts, enchanted forests, and their other sisters to meet their true love. I just didn't think this sort of fairy tale behavior would start so early.

The other day, I caught him trying to climb the fence.

Dave insists that the girls are encouraging him. He says he saw Ella swing open their side door, look up to our 2nd story window and in a hushed voice repeat, “Sam” until he ran to greet her. But who wouldn’t want a boy yelling your name over the rooftops?

And Ella, What a gal! She’s three and sassy and full of her own self--a regular heroine in the making.

This morning (7/31) I woke up to Sam talking out his bedroom window to Ella. She was in her bathroom. They happily chatted through the screens. I joined them. Ella preceded to show and tell the contents of her purse, piece by piece and mostly to me. In response, Sam reached up to my face, put his hand on my cheek and said ever so gently, "Mom, Go away."

There are four new posts so keep on scrollin'

Activities

There are certain things you tell yourself before you become a parent that you absolutely won’t do when you become a parent but all of which you will inevitably do. You promise that you won’t discuss the frequency, color, and texture of your baby’s excrement with the same erudition as you might say about Abstract Expressionism. You promise yourself that you will ask about other people’s lives before you unleash the minutia of Life with Baby. You promise yourself that in ear shot of innocent ears that you will at least spell rather than say expletives. Then you hear your toddler say, “Shit Shit Shit” for no apparent reason other than you just said it and didn’t realize it. If you had spelled it and then he had spelled, you could claim he was a genius.

One of my many promises to my pre-parent-self was to keep my job title as Mommy from becoming Chauffer. I don’t like being in the car or driving cars and part of me has been secretly awaiting the grand finale of our oil obsessed nation. Added to my aversion to internal combustion engine is the necessity of strapping children down as if it were a moon launch. You don’t get to BE anywhere, because you are always GOING everywhere.

Well, all I can say, is “Shit Shit Shit” one more promise out the freakin’ car window. The pictures speak for themselves.