It was a perfect day

I think there is no better feeling than stepping out of a shower after a long day at the beach. It's why I have suddenly found myself fantasizing about raising you in Laguna Beach, the place I grew up in, the place I swore I would never return to, the place I ran away from. Only in hindsight do I fully appreciate all that Laguna Beach had to offer. The lifestyle was amazing and I was oblivious. It's not that I didn't know it was incredibly beautiful and that I was extremely lucky to go to the beach, beautiful clean beaches, 300 days out of the year, but I didn't know I would ever miss it. I thought I hated it's homogenous demographic and uber conservative bubble of ignorance. But after living in Los Angeles for over 20 years, I miss the lifestyle the most. The smell of salt water. The tingling of my skin from a day full of sun. Los Angeles beaches are not the same. You couldn't pay me to swim in the Ocean up here. I would rather drive over an hour for an OC Beach. I am a total snob and I now know and embrace it. I want you to be a beach snob too. I would love for you to be a little mermaid or a junior lifeguard, Pony. I would. But I hear it has changed. That there is a lot of "new" money and people aren't the same. That they are rude and mean. That Laguna has lost it's charm. That sucks. It was suggested to me that San Clemente was just as charming, less expensive, with nicer people. I don't know if I could "do" San Clemente. I'm not even sure what I mean when I say that. I'm not sure any of this is ever going to be possible. It's just fun to dream and I am surprised that my dreams have started moving South. For a long time now they were facing North, Big Sur, Portland, or Seattle as places I romanticized living in someday. I have been in LA most of my life, longer than anywhere and that was never my intention. Not that I think there is anything "wrong" with LA. It's a fantastic city and we have certainly found a wonderful niche up here in The Mount. I just miss Summers at the beach, swimming in the good ole Pacific, washing sand out of my ass at night. But don't get me wrong, we have it good right now. Life is good. Perfect even, I would say.

Absolutely Perfect.

I love the look of joy on your face here as the wind whips your greasy sun-blocked hair. We were showing your cousin Keegan Balboa Island in Newport. It was a beautiful day. Nay, a perfect day. And you, my love, are perfect.

Absolutely perfect.

Love, Me.

My iPhone Punched Me

So my iPhone punched me in the eye. But it had a little help from you, Pony dear.

I was laying back on the bed, post-nurse, and you were playing with my iPhone when somehow it flew out of your hands and into my eye. Oh man did it hurt. I cried out and you looked like you were about to cry. And although it hurt like the dickens (have never used that expression before and don't intend to ever again) I never expected it to become a purple green and yellow bruise under my eye. Each day it kept migrating upwards and outwards. My favorite part was when I would forget about it and wonder "why such the strange looks today, do I have food on my face?" No, I have short blonde hair, tons of tattoos, punk rock tights on and a black fucking eye. Nobody was gonna mess with me at your first swim class, that was for sure. I look tough. It's kind of fun. The other interesting part has been the silence from other women I know. Like the ones in my teaching class I am taking right now. For almost 20 minutes we all acted like there wasn't this giant purple/green/yellow elephant in the room. Finally I had to yell out, I HAVE A BLACK EYE. IT'S OKAY. I AM NOT AN ABUSED WOMAN. I JUST HAD AN ACCIDENT WITH MY IPHONE. Sure, they all seem to say as they give me knowing nods. Whatever. I am so punk rock right now I'll cut them all!!! Just kidding. That isn't how I roll anymore P. No way.

I am a changed woman because of you and your Dad. Changed in the best possible ways. I am much squishier. Physically and emotionally. I am not so worried about "creating" something of value in the world (meaning: writing an international bestseller- or at least being knows as having written one) because I already created something so creative it blows me away on a daily basis.



You.

You are the most fascinating and interesting person I have ever met. You were making farting sounds on my belly as we shared a bath. It was hilarious. I don't know what made you think to do that, maybe because you farted first, but it was pretty amazing, the sounds you were able to make. Then you suddenly started waving good-bye to your Dad as he left for a movie with your Cousin Keegan, who is visiting from Minnesota this week. Just out of the blue like that. Then you couldn't stop. You were so proud of yourself. You waved me out as I backed out of your room tonight blowing you kisses and waving like a maniac too, saying GOOD NIGHT. I LOVE YOU. GOOD NIGHT.

I don't know why I am writing my dialogue like Own Meany's. Maybe because that book has really stuck with me. That is what good literature is supposed to do, I suppose. Infiltrate your world and stay there. I will never forget that book. I forget all books, but that one, never. I loved everything about it. MADE FOR TELEVISION.

Reading a book like that, or Anne Patchett's "State of Wonder" reminds me of what a mediocre writer I am, and how grateful I am for storytellers like she and John Irving. Without them, I would be lost. I really truly madly deeply hope you fall in love with reading like I have. I want that for you. It has been one of the saving grace's of my life. It has given me so much, a precocious vocabulary at an early age, hours spent living in other worlds, and more imaginary friends than I could ever hope for. Reading saved my life. It saved me from destroying myself completely, I am convinced of this, reading and writing. I kept a journal since I was 12 and traveling through India. I still have the original one. Unfortunately the copious volumes thereafter chronicling the formidable years of high school, college, and beyond were destroyed in a fang shui fit when I was 28. Not one of my brighter moments. I regret it to this day. More on that later. My regrets. I want so much for you. I promise to try and not smother you with my wants.

It's time for bed. I have babbled enough.

I love your feet, your legs, your belly, your hands, your head and your heart. I love all of you, Little Monkey.

Love, Big Monkey.

Father's Day

It was an almost perfect day. We began it in bed with Dada. We gave him a certificate for a gluten free vegan cooking class. He's been saying he's wanted to take one forever. Well, now he can. And it's the kind of gift that keeps on giving...back to you and me, little Pony P.


Then we headed down to Crystal Cove state beach. It is spitting distance from the elementary school I went to. Damn, was I a lucky kid. My school was on a bluff overlooking the majestic Pacific. I breathed in fresh ocean air while running on fields of fresh grass every day. Me in my little dirty white Keds. I want that for you Pony. Although the elementary school up the street from us has excellent ratings and beautiful views from the Mount, it has no grass, and that kind of breaks my heart. Not to mention the fact that the beaches in Los Angeles COUNTY suck ass. I have never found one that rivals Laguna's beaches. Never. Not once. Ever. And I've been to a lot of them.

Today was your first day at the beach. One of many millions, I hope.



Next weekend is your first swim class. I hope someday you can be a Little Mermaid like I was. A precursor to Junior Lifeguards. But I guess that can only happen if we move back to Laguna. A dream we are percolating currently. It used to be Northern California, then it migrated to Portland, or Seattle, but has meandered back to my roots. Why? Because they are damn good roots. Nothing beats growing up by the ocean like that. Nothing. It was dreamy. I kick myself when I think of how much I wanted to leave it then. I protested too much, doth say. Swearing I would never return. And now, I covet. Amazing what having a child will do to you? You have changed everything, my love. Everything. And in the best possible way.

I love your butt. Especially in those ruffles.

Stop being so whiney, please? And eat something substantial, for once. This throwing food thing? Not so cute. I actually have to stop and take deep breaths sometimes. It gets pretty frustrating when you get so excited to eat Kasper's food that Marie makes for him but when we are alone and I make the SAME EXACT THING you refuse it passionately! Oy vey, child. The drama!

You are beautiful and smart, but I don't want to tell you that too much. Because I want you to try harder all the time and to never give up. To not be afraid to ask for help. And to rely on much much more than just your looks.

And the way your face lights up when you see your Dad? It's unbounded joy. You scream with delight the second you see his face. I love it.

You are Daddy's Girl and I wanted that for you so much.

I don't think it's possible to love you any more.

No, it's not.

Mom

Red Head

You took 4 steps in a row the other night! It was incredible, but the best part was the look on your face afterwards, you were so proud and excited that you crawled in a circle screaming at the top of your lungs. Complete and utter joy. So unbounded. So inspiring.

I am fascinated with who you are becoming. You are by far the most interesting person I think I have ever met, besides your Dad, of course. I am so impressed with how perceptive you are. Nothing gets by you. I hid some egg maracas for you in a little green bucket by your toys and you found it immediately. I couldn't believe it. And if I am wearing anything you haven't seen before it intrigues you to no end. My hair, since it is in constant flux, warrants ogles every morning. Yesterday we were hanging out on the bed after your second nap, one of my favorite times of the day with you, and you were making me laugh so hard I almost peed my pants. You were laying with my nipple in your mouth and you would stop suckling for a second to mumble stuff to me with my nipple still hanging in your mouth, then go back to suckling, on and off for almost 10 minutes. Just the sound of your voice alone was magical, like little fairy bells tinkling. Then suddenly you bolted upright and came at me open mouthed all tongue. It was my nose you were after and it was my nose you assaulted. Afterwards you went back to the nipple, and with your big eyes looking mischievously right at me you proceeded to slowly "pretend" bite me- just to see what I would do, I am sure. I tried so hard not to laugh and to seriously tell you "NO biting" but I couldn't help my self. You were so nefarious and adorable. Oh man. I am in trouble.

Now about food- HUGE discovery yesterday that had me in tears. At the park with Kasper and Marie, she was feeding him this delicious looking polenta and veggies concoction that looked absolutely mouthwatering, on a whim she offered you some. I expected the usual refusal of anything on a spoon but lo and behold you gobbled that stuff up! And you wanted more and more and more. I felt bad eating her food but I was so excited to see you excited about something nutritious and delicious. Marie said she realized Kasper needed spices and flavor in his food, that the purees were too boring and solid finger food too difficult. This was a perfect blend of flavors and consistency. So last night I sautéed up some zucchini, broccoli, and tomatoes in olive oil and soy sauce which I pureed till chunky and added some couscous to. You loved it. I wanted to cry. It felt so SATISFYING to feed you without struggling. I felt competent and complete. It was amazing. Then this morning, when I offered you a special smoothie I labored over you promptly refuse. Then I wanted to cry out of frustration again. Oh well. Baby steps...



Look at this photo from the park, I am such a dork, honey. I apologize in advance for embarrassing you with my enthusiasm. That is a burrito in my hand. You both were assaulting me. It was a perfect day.

And by the way- when did you become a red head?

Who are you?

Mom