Feast After Famine

A year ago, I staked a claim to a tiny sliver of the Internet because I needed a reason to write and a place to do it. 

I wanted to create a community, maybe give hope to infertile couples, and I wanted to mess around with photos too. But mostly I needed to tell stories and get back to daily writing without taking a full-time job (and bankrupting us with childcare costs to do it).

I'd been thinking of it for ages, really, and I wasted a fair amount of time trying to come up with my "hook."  I didn't know much about blogs, admittedly. I thought I needed a gimmick like that woman from "Julie and Julia." Or a talent. Or a cause.  

I hemmed and hawed for months before I realized my procrastination was fueled by fear. 

I misplaced my brain sometime between the birth of my first and fourth child. And I felt like my voice-  the part of me that sings when I tune out the noise and weave words into stories - was buried beneath teetering mounds of unfolded laundry, shitty diapers, crusty dishes and toys. 

I told myself I wouldn't have anything to write about, certainly nothing anyone wants to read.

Then I had an unexpected conversation with a high school classmate I hadn't seen in 20 years and never knew well. Soo Young Lee is a writer herself now, an artist and mother and ultimately, my inspiration to return to words.

In the corner of a dark, rowdy bar, we talked intimately about writing and raising babies and the struggle to do both. It was the first time in a long time that I felt passionate when I spoke. I went home with a love renewed and a voice unearthed. 

This blog launched 27 days later. 

And thank God for that. This humble little spot of the web read by friends and family, friends of friends and lately, a smattering of strangers too, reconnected me with me. 

Weeks after that first post, I realized I was thinking again. Not just about what to make for dinner or how to cross the street with four kids without getting mown down by impatient drivers. I was lingering on language and emotions now, friendships, books and politics. Making connections and considering broad views. I wasn't just solving crises, I was thinking "what if."

I didn't feel like a mom zombie anymore. I felt "engaged." With my own life and the life around me. 

I cannot overstate how transformative this simple spot has been. 

In the last year, I went through menopause and thought I was losing my mind. Writing about the internal tumult anchored me. I watched my oldest, my soulmate in many regards, go off to school and I worked through the loss over a series of essays. 

I recall reading once that people blog for different reasons - some to work their shit out. Oh, man, did I work some shit out. 

I also got a job offer, was asked to collaborate on a book, traveled to New York City, made new friends, discovered kick-ass photographers and found a treasure trove of heart-stopping, hilarious, inspirational writing. 

It's been an exhilarating start of a journey that I hope takes me to new cities, stokes new emotions and kinship, brings unexpected blessings and liberates new voices. 

Thank you so much for reading along with me, for your encouragement and kind words. I hear from you in the comments, on the sidewalk, at the park, in personal e-mails. And I love every single encounter. 

While I consider the blog a special place of my own, I envision it less as a bedroom for one than a farm table for many. I hope that in the coming year, I can foster more of a sense of community in the comments.  So that when you come here, you don't just hear my story but her's and her's and his and their's. 

Before I look ahead, though, I must stop now and say "Happy Birthday, blog" and a gigantic, heartfelt "Thank you" to my high school friend, Soo, without whom there wouldn't be a birthday to toast. Soo, I owe you the moon.  And my mind. 

Tobias turned 2 today and I didn't forget to smother his face with kisses and wish him "Happy Birthday" first thing in the morning. 

So, already the day is off to a good start. 

Last year, I experienced a brutal parenting fail when I let time slip by in complete ignorance of his momentous first birthday. Esme just started kindergarten and we were overwhelmed with the new schedule, the early wake-up, the emotional drama of the transition.

It was nearly an hour before the light went on. DING! Birthday boy!

No such delay today. I rubbed my face, pulled on a pair of pants and found my baby at the head of the dining room table shoving a giant, sloppy spoonful of yogurt in his mouth and down his pajama top. I tickled behind his ears and sang birthday wishes. Esme giggled. 

"How old are you today?" I asked. 

"For," he said, shoving his hand at me, all five fingers raised. 

Not so fast, young man. It's all rolling too quickly as it is. 

Let's celebrate 2 - the year you learn to put on your shoes, pull up your pants, use the potty, string together sentences, sort shapes, sing the ABCs and tell your Mama "I love you." Because, boy, do I love you!

Kent: "I hurt my shoulder today." 

Me: "Did you fall off your bike again?"

Kent: "No, I ran into a fence."

Laughter ensues on my part.

Me: "See, that's why I won't let you drive the car."

Baby T turns 2 tomorrow. He's a big guy with a wide, goofy smile, sparkly eyes, devilish personality and bountiful heart. 

He's a man of infinite hugs but few words. 

These days, he prefers "Osh" to describe the pillow, the wall, the chair, the lamp, his sisters, the plate, the EVERYTHING. His universal word used to be "Ish," something he yelled so often and so insistently that my mother turned it into his nickname. 

I exaggerate, of course, but not much. He can say "Mama," "Papa," "Uma" and more than 30 other words in some form or fashion that the family understands. But even I need a few minutes on occasion to decipher his babbling which usually results in an exasperating conversation that unfolds thusly:

T: "Ba."

Me: "Ball?"

T: "Ba." 

Me: "Block?"

T: "BA!" Points his finger. Shakes his head. Screams with his eyes "You're an idiot, Mama."

Me: "Oh? Boat?!"

T: "Yeah." Smiles. Runs off to bear hug a sibling.

Having watched four children grow from babies to toddlers and beyond, I'm well aware children hit milestones at wildly different times. Desmond recited Beatrix Potter story lines and strung together sentences at 18 months while Josephine's vocabulary consisted of fewer than a dozen words. On the other hand, she could run, climb and use a spoon light years before her twin brother. 

In other words, I recognize Tobias is a late talker but I haven't worked myself into an anxious frenzy. His doctor mentioned at his 18-month check-up that she could send him for hearing tests if his speech delay lingers, and I planned to ask for the referral at his two-year appointment. 

I also thought it was the perfect question to pose to the ParentsAsk experts. I'm especially glad I did because, well, watch for yourself.

First, don't you love the way Tobias says "poop?" 

Second, fantastic tips, no? I've never been one to use baby talk and prefer, instead, to speak to the children like little adults, so the idea of over exaggerating the last sound is new to me. I especially love it when combined with the brilliant idea of reinforcing the sound with a tactile cue. 

I have tried tying rewards to successful imitation but Tobias is a stubborn son of a gun. I got lots of footage of him flat out refusing to imitate my speech. It's too bad for you that it wasn't included because it's a hilarious battle of wills. So, I appreciate the expert's idea that I can try the imitation several times, then abandon the effort if Tobias gets frustrated.  Sound, doable advice that we're already implementing.

Me: "Say 'milk.'"

T: "NO!"

Me: "You can't have your milk until you say 'milk.'"

T: "NO!"

Me: "Milk."

T: Silence.

Me: Give the milk cup to him.

T: Walks away to bear hug a sibling.

Again, apologies for the size constraints on my web page. They constrict the ParentsAsk video and cut off the text box. I'm working on a redesign. Well, in my head anyway.

Family Camp - The Movie from Dana Damico on Vimeo.

The kids want to live there and I definitely didn't want to leave. It's that awesome.