Lists are Useless

The big move is three weeks away. Here’s where things stand. 

We still own our condo. Which, if I was independently wealthy and could afford to keep shelling out $2100/month in a mortgage, HOA fees, and property taxes, I’d be fine with. I love our condo and I love it’s location. However, we are not independently wealthy and I don’t think we can just live in a camper van down by the river when we move to Ohio. Too many dogs. So hopefully, sad as it is, the condo in the woods sells soon. 

I haven’t packed or labelled anything. Some stuff is going to my parent’s place. They’re keeping us from being homeless. Some stuff is going to storage. Some stuff is getting mailed. I should probably get the sharpies and post-its out soon. 

I haven’t taken my pre-move inventory of all of our possessions. Apparently they recommned you do this in case something gets lost. Fabulous. Socks, plates, furniture, art, everything. That’ll be a fun task. 

I haven’t truly come to terms with leaving. This is probably the biggest hurdle, as I look out my window at the snow covered Sierra. This career makes you call a lot of places home and I have been home in North Carolina, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, Colorado, Wyoming, Montana, Nevada, New Mexico, and California. I never thought California would be the place I never wanted to leave, but it is. And we’re leaving it. For now.

For Ohio. This is a state that was NEVER on our radar. It has a lot of things on our “reasons we won’t ever go there” list. This list includes things like the following.

1. East of Denver
2. Ticks
3. Fleas
4. Poison Ivy
5. Excessive Mosquitoes
6. Minimal sun
7. Humidity
8. Minimal topography
9. Traffic
10. East of Denver

East of Denver makes the list twice. We grew up in the Midwest, but our hearts are in the West. It’s dry, harsh, burns frequently, is full of violent weather, is often far from most amenities, and is generally inconvenient. But it produces a quality of life hard to find in the East. The kind that when you live somewhere else, you get on a plane for and it fills your heart and soul with joy.

So why are we leaving? It’s time. For a little while. It’s time to be closer to our families. Time moves quickly and opportunities to be close to people you love should not be overlooked. It’s time to move up. I’m not one for upward mobility just for the sake of it, but sooner or later, you’ve got to make a move when the stars align. We’re both at the end of the career road here. And we’re not getting the types of opportunities that are going to move us forward. And it’s time to try something new. And although the Midwest is not new to either of us, it will give us the chance to explore some new places, take advantage of city living for a while, and hopefully give us the opportunity to do some travelling to places we’ve never been. Our travel budget here goes to our condo in the woods. 

And it won’t be forever. It’s the nature of our jobs. The nature of us. The west will call us back again. Our skis will still ski, our hiking boots will remember the dusty mountain trails, and the dogs will undoubtedly remember how to bark at bears. But for now, I should probably start making lists, labelling boxes, and prepping the crew for spring in the Eastern hardwood forest, some quality time with family and old friends, and new adventures under a canopy of deciduous trees or maybe in a museum, or at a baseball stadium. And more importantly, I should probably get rid of my “reasons we won’t ever go there” list. Clearly, those kinds of lists are crap.

And in the mean time, we’re just going to enjoy our last few weeks in the Sierra with good friends and great weather.

One Year

Exactly one year ago today we met our tiny human. It was awesome. Those tiny little fingers and toes, that tiny baby cry, all those tiny baby clothes. To be honest, I loved Owen from the first second I heard him cry, but I did not love “tiny baby” stage. Bouncing on that blue yoga ball for hours on end, gingerly laying him down to sleep in hopes of not inciting more screaming. Putting him to bed was like a super secret operation. The transfer from baby carrier or mom to his pack n’ play was so delicate, so carefully planned and orchestrated. We would time our jogs to sneak them in between feedings/screamings. Sometimes our timing was off. I was very good at breastfeeding in really random places. But Owen was always a good sport, two miles, three miles, four miles. He didn’t care. As long as he was outside, he was good.

There are so many things in life that can change things in an instant. The arrival of your tiny human is the best one. Better than a new house, a new job, and yes, even better than a new puppy. I said it. My parents asked me today to reflect on the last year of being a parent. Well, you can’t do that on the bluetooth in your Honda. So I’ll do it here. It truly is the best. Not every minute, or even every hour, but every day for sure. In the last year, there has not been one bad day. Bad hours? Absolutely. But no bad days. And maybe that’s because our kid is ridiculously fantastic or maybe every parent feels that way because you just love your kid. I don’t know.

And sweet mother, you go through a lot in the first year! Here’s this tiny human who can’t even really see you that well when you meet and one year later, he’s clinging to your leg, crying when you leave the room, running after the dogs, and eating real people food. And the cliche is true. It does go by fast. But I don’t long to do any of it all over again, or to get that time back.

So how do you reflect on an experience that changes you as a person in such a profound way… something that flips your universe upside down. That challenges you in ways so different and so fulfilling. I don’t know, really. I guess the emotion that sticks with me is gratitude. I am so grateful for our healthy, smart (sure, I’ll say it… so what if he hits himself in the head with his developmental toys…), giggly little man and this adventure that we’re all on together. So grateful to have experienced it with such a great partner in crime and such a fun baby. And that I took a TON of photos and videos.

One year ago today, I looked into those alert, ready for the world, blue eyes, and it was awesome. Today, I look at those big blue eyes and think about all the adventures yet to come and it is awesome. We survived the first year. And it turns out, we love almost every minute of it. Almost.

First Birthday Hike, Convict Lake 2/21/2015

Wake-up Call

Tangled leashes, three medium-sized black and white dogs pulling and sniffing and peeing on everything in sight, Owen riding in his carrier. I was trying to stop ignoring our dogs. We walked for forty minutes. Every block is a win. Every block that we don’t run into an off leash dog, every block one of them doesn’t get loose, every block they don’t eat something inappropriate off the side of the road — win. I’m probably being a little melodramatic, but you’ve read it in this blog before. How unruly our animals are. I love them, but seriously. Every time I take all three of them out at the same time, always with Owen in tow, it’s an adventure. But some days, there are just no other options. Anyway, towards the end of our loop, we stopped at the bus stop to say hi to Jon who was about half way through his 12 hour day of driving buses. Totally worth the 30 seconds he was able to spend petting the dogs and saying hi to Owen. After our 30 seconds with Jon, we started to head home through the Village. We ran into an adorable little kid, likely two years old or so, who got a huge thrill out of petting the dogs. Fortunately, they are good with kiddos. I just had to put them all into a sit-stay and keep Tiksha from jumping up and licking the poor kid’s face. When the petting barrage was over, the mom looks at me and says, “But is that your only human?” gesturing to Owen. I politely said yes. She then said something about how much harder it is with more. This way very much unsolicited. Is it? Harder? Well, probably, but I’m not so sure if that’s what you say to someone who is literally dog-wrangling with a 10-month old attached to them. Perhaps timing was just off. Either way, I laughed politely and yanked the dogs forward.  We continued wrangling for the next ten minutes until we got home.

A view worth the work.

After a grueling uphill ski.

Owen cruising in the snow.

The cutest little face ever.

I then immediately wiped the dirty paws of all three dogs and transferred Owen from the carrier to the car seat to try to make my doctor’s appointment in time. Today was one of those days. You get a ton of stuff done, but you feel like you got nothing done. I don’t know. For the first time since Owen was born, I felt truly overcommitted this week. I just took a detail at work, which takes me from a super cush three-eight hour days per week to a much more busy four-ten hour days per week. Jon is working two jobs for the next two weeks, so that’s seven days a week for him, and theoretically, I was going to do some work for Disabled Sports. Something has to go. And it’s temporarily going to have to be Disabled Sports. I’m really bad at saying no to people, but at some point, things start to suffer and right now, I can’t afford for that to be work or anything with our kid. Fortunately, those are easy decisions to make.

I think this was just one of those wake-up moments you have as a parent. You can’t do it all. And your kid (and your means to put a roof over the kid’s head) comes first. Damn this adulthood. You can’t just ski whenever you want, do whatever you want, work whenever you want. Everything is carefully choreographed with a kid. Who’s dropping off? Who’s picking up? When are you picking up? Did anyone feed the dogs? When’s the last time they peed? And I do only have one kid. And maybe that is exponentially easier. But man, that sure seems like plenty. Because I still need to exercise, the dogs still need to pee, and sweet mother, the dog hair has got to get vacuumed out of the corners. But I will always make time for skiing and running and playing outside. And Owen will just come along for the ride. So this is the week of letting go. After I do all the stuff I’ve already committed to.

Skiing with the Little Man. Check!

Napping baby. Whew! And holy holiday blogging melt down, Batman! Apparently we were busy. I don’t know. What were we doing? Learning new things! Running season is never truly behind us, but we’re all working on our skiing now that winter has laid down a nice blanket of white stuff. I’ve started a masters clinic for classic and skate skiing on Saturday mornings. It’s a beating. Nordic skiing is hard. And skating is ridiculous. Muscles I didn’t even know I had are sore. But it’s sweet to learn something knew. I’ve been classic skiing for a while, but apparently, I’m horrible at it. That’s what you learn in a ski clinic. That everything you thought you were doing right is actually wrong. Brilliant! My weight is too far back, my poles are too far forward, blah, de blah, de blah. It’s an eight week program, so hopefully by the end of it, I’ll suck less.

So, with my new found skate skiing skills, Jon and I took Owen out for family ski day this past Sunday. It was sweet. First, let me sing the praises,

Cruising in his new boots.

Getting ready to head out with Owen and the Chariot

once again, of my Chariot. Only now, it has skis attached to it. It’s so great. Seriously. RELATIVELY easy to pull, easy to skate with, and keeps Owen snuggly. He loves it as much as he loves jogging in it. And it takes about 5 minutes to set it all up. What a genius idea. My heart goes out to everyone lugging around those pulkas. A little glide wax on the baby skis and we’re cruising!  The skiing was pretty good. Again, skating is a beating, but it’s super fun. The uphills do make me feel a little dyspneic, but that’s how you know you’re doing something awesome, right? You can’t breathe? Right. Anyway, Jon and I are both learning, and that is not without its frustrations, but Owen doesn’t care and seems to really enjoy the ride.

And with all good experiences, comes an outpouring of cash… Owen, thanks to another product about which I will rave shortly, likes to cruise around in the snow. So, we had to get the kid a snowsuit. Clearly. Bye, bye, Christmas gift card to REI. Hello baby snowsuit! It’ll be here next week. But the find of the winter for Owen, asid from the ski kit for the Chariot, are his winter boots. Owen is an early walker. That means its really tough to find boots that fit him, but don’t weigh down his tiny little legs. Enter the Stonz baby boots. They’re perfect for little cruisers. Super lightweight, warm and snuggly, and adorable. And Owen figured out how to walk in them in about 3 seconds. Best Christmas present ever!

Fortunately, although I was eyeballing the little baby nordic skis, the kid just learned to walk, so that purchase can wait until next winter!

Ready for Winter

We put the skis on the Chariot today. We didn’t ski anywhere, but the skis are ready. I took Owen nordic skiing last week. I wore him on my back, which is a much more interactive experience, I think. I can talk to him, he scream sings at me. You know, all of the relaxation of a good ski without the quiet. But your balance is off and if you eat it. So does your kid. So I’m pumped to try the Chariot. She’s been a solid running partner, so I’m optimistic about the skiing.

And in a move that made me a little sad and a little excited, I pulled the infant sling from the Chariot. Owen is officially in the big kid seat. He is tiny! He just barely fits. But he was getting too big for the sling. He kept kicking the stroller cover. So, big kid seat it is. Man, time flies. Like just yesterday I had him in the infant sling with the extra head support for his wobbly little neck and the two of us were getting used to being an unstoppable pavement pounding team. Each run was a gift. You never knew when he was going to break down.

Now, we are pros. We do 5-6 miles at a stretch. He just sings and naps and play with his toys. It’s awesome. I’m sure I’ll look back on these days fondly when he’s asking to borrow my car! Anyway, I’m hoping that his love of jogging translates to the skiing. He doesn’t mind the cold and loves being outside. Again, optimism. Hoping to try it out this weekend. I’ll report out.

Otherwise, not much new. The kiddo refuses to sleep through the night, which is still annoying. But he’s full on walking, opening cabinets, and exploring the universe. Every day is something new. Jon has been off work a bunch this week, so there’s been some quality daddy and Owen time. I’m not sure what they do all day. Probably man stuff. We’re talking about putting latches on drawers and cabinets. We’re the worst baby proofers! We’ll get to it. In the mean time, Owen is well supervised and all toxic substances are in a cabinet I can’t even open, so I think we’re okay.

Ah, there he is now. Supposed to be sleeping. Crying instead. That’s my cue to wrap it up!

An Ode to Our Dogs

Three dogs. That’s at least one too many by most standards. Most of the time, I love our dogs. The two Karelian Bear Dogs happily curled on the dog beds on the deck in the blowing snow, the Australian Shepherd sleeping dutifully at my feet as I watch Monday Night Football. We have good dogs. Until… We go for a walk. It is at that moment that I look longingly at the woman with her perfectly behaved golden retriever, perfectly heeled at her hip, perfectly obedient, perfectly groomed, perfectly not barking at my dogs. But mine are barking. Furiously. Why? No idea. Tiksha’s hackles are up, Karhu, very well behaved on his own, is just joining in because it seems like the thing to do, and Sam, well, he’s just losing it, pulling to the end of his leash, harness choking him to the point of wheezing. These are our dogs.

The walk continued. Me, Owen, and three dogs. Through the neighborhood, Sam begins barking uncontrollably, again. At what? I don’t know. I couldn’t see anything. Oh wait, no, there it is. A man walking what I can only assume was a Maltese crossed with a rat. Ratese? Designer dog idea? Our dogs all weigh over 45 pounds. Why on earth would they need to bark at a dog the size of a sewer rat? I start pulling the dogs in the opposite direction of the Ratese.

Fifteen minutes later, all three lunge forward and dive into a bush. Owen and I lunge with them. A small rodent scurries under the brush and towards the golf course. The dogs are oblivious to this detail. They are still sniffing and pawing the sage brush as if it were coated in beef liver gravy. Again, I am dragging the three dogs back onto the path. Owen starts singing. Bah, bah, bah, bah. Bah, bah. Bah, bah. Super loud. In my ear.

I look ahead. We’re hosed. Two dogs off a leash. Owner nowhere to be found. Sigh. Did I mention that Tiksha likes to eat off leash dogs? I duck onto the golf course in hopes of avoiding the motley duo of ownerless dogs. Owen is still scream singing in my ear. Sam sees the two dogs. He begins barking relentlessly, pulling and lunging towards the dogs. I dig frantically in my pocket for treats. All three dogs immediately focus on my pockets. The two rogue canines are disinterested in us. Maybe they were feral. We were out of the woods so to say.

Is this walk over? Seriously. On the home stretch. We’re headed down the last little bit and “GUH!” All three dogs lunge after a rabbit. Argh. My hand was nearly separated from the arm. Stupid rabbit.

I walked in the front door and unhooked all the dogs. They all sat obediently waiting for their post-walk treat. What?!? Yeah, okay. Fine. Here’s the damn treat. We walked upstairs. Sam laid back down on the floor and the bear dogs took their places on the porch. Like nothing had happened.

Sam is curled up on the foot of our bed. The bear dogs are on their beds near the closet. They are all sleeping peacefully. Tomorrow they will get up and be awesome with Owen, wrestle with each other on the deck, and nap in the sun. And bark incessantly on our walks, chase everything that moves, and occasionally puke up God knows what on the carpet. Yes, in a house of mostly hard surfaces, they will find the carpet. I suppose you just take the good with the bad. They’re part of the family. Actually, they’re half the family. Those numbers have to count for something! And mostly, we wouldn’t have it any other way. Except the puking, that is.

Back on Two Sticks

This gallery contains 4 photos.

Today’s adventure did not involve my kiddo. I saw this little munchkin toddling around on the snow and felt a little pang of guilt. Why? I don’t know… I took the day off work, not to spend with my child, … Continue reading →

This, too, shall pass

This gallery contains 3 photos.

This too shall pass. I say this 100 times a day at work. Well, two or three times anyway. I was out for a jog today thinking about our recent vacation, Owen’s apparent all out boycott of sleep or anything … Continue reading →

The Sleep Saga

Sleep is a common topic in mommy blog land. It is apparently an inevitability that you won’t do it. Ever again. Okay, I guess some parents sleep. Just not these two. Seriously, though, some of these women write into these online forums and post things like “My LO is only 12 weeks and is sleeping through the night!” The title of the post was “Nine month old still not sleeping”. I wanted to punch her through the computer. Find a post titled, “Braggy moms wanted to tell lies about their babies”. That’s your post, lady. We, on the other hand, are in the category of those with babies who still wake up like three times a night. Sigh. So I read up on it. I tried to go to semi-reputable sites… you know, sites that referenced articles and books written by physicians and midwives and other reputable baby people. Not just anecdotes from braggy or overwhelmed moms. Those help no one. Turns out, I’m DOING EVERYTHING WRONG! Seriously. Everything. I’m feeding him too late, I’m coddling him to sleep, I’m letting him stay awake too long. Geez! So, today begins the desperate move of “Cry it Out”.

For some reason, I was fairly certain that my child was different. I read up on all this sleep stuff prior to his arrival. And ignored it. Owen was a great little kid. He’d learn to put himself to sleep. Uh, no. No he did not. Apparently, like using a spoon and not braining themselves on the brick wall, they have to be taught these things. Now, I’m sure there are at least a few folks in the Dr. Sears camp, but I’ve tried sleeping in that camp. We don’t sleep. And at nearly 8.5 months old, Owen needs to sleep. And so do we. So what did I do for nap time today? Put him in his crib at 10:45 and unapologetically went upstairs to give one of the dogs a bath. Owen was screaming bloody murder, but fortunately dog washing is a noisy process during which you can hear nothing. Brilliant. Following bath time, I went downstairs to check on him and he was sound asleep. An hour later, he’s still asleep. Genius. So I just need more noisy activities to do while he’s learning to self soothe.

Like everything else pertaining to parenting, there is some guilt in just letting your kid scream in his crib. But if there’s one thing the internet is good for, it’s teaching you that you’re doing it wrong. No matter what “it” is. So you may as well do something that gets your kid to sleep, right?

The One About Gratitude

So, it turns out, gratitude is an overwhelming emotion sometimes. I mean sometimes you’re thankful that your husband remembered to take something out for dinner, but sometimes you’re thankful for your husband. And nothing brings out gratefulness like a baby. … Continue reading →