Merry Christmas!

Slow down

I'm feeling pretty hectic and rushed, which is kind of a blessing, people to see and things to do, but my body and I are just aching to slow down, read, sit by a fire, enjoy a glass of wine, rock my baby, gaze at twinkling lights, and take it very slow. Maybe pat some dogs. Watch birds from a window. Play guitar. The shopping is done, the wrapping is done. Just four more hours of work and a rushed packing session, and I will be ready for a winter break.

Neil is half a year old today! Imagine!

VH

I'm just imagining a happier time, May 17th, when spring was coming into full effect and you were born with a partner in crime, and your mother was ecstatic. I'm imagining it was sunny and warm and lambs were bouncing, or maybe it was cool and rainy. Or maybe it was the dark of night...but it wouldn't matter, you and your sister were here to light up the world. Even though you left early, I'm glad you came. Even though I miss you so much, I'm glad for the times we shared. I love you friend.

Bonfire series

Bananas

When I fold laundry...

The perfect tree

I have a memory from when I was young that involves trees, tailgates, saws and schnapps. We would come together with our neighbors and head out to the local tree farm up the hill from our woodsy homes. We would park our truck and the adults would have a nip of blackberry schnapps while us kids impatiently ran through rows of trees, each of us looking for our own version of dendro-perfection. Some wanted a normal, simple shape and others just couldn't help themselves when it came to size, and still others wanted a fat, round bush. We always found what we were looking for.

This year we attempted a similar event. A few friends met at our house for mimosas and snacks before driving up to a remote tree farm in the Adirondacks. The weather was warm and as the city faded away the landscape did too, into a blanket of mist.

When we got to our destination we let the four dogs get their yayas out and trudged around in mud and thickets formulating a plan. Another group cut down a huge tree nearby, scaring us after issuing a feeble "Timber". Eventually, we headed uphill and into thick brush to find what we were looking for. We'd leave the easy trees for someone else.

Our friends found their tree pretty quickly, tall enough for their vaulted ceilings and wild looking. We found ours soon after, slim, compact and just right for our tiny, century old house. After dragging our quarry back to the trucks, we celebrated with beers and ran the dogs and watched the fog roll down the mountains. We paid our $12 the kids playing Worldcraft in a white mini van and scooted out of the park for burgers at the Adirondack pub and grill.

As we drove home, bellies full and drowsy from a day outdoors, we gazed out at the Christmas lights glowing in the fog. There were quaint white lights, huge displays, trees in bay windows and mechanical reindeer. Multi colored lights, red lights, and my grandfather's favorite, all blue lights. My heart warmed at the thought that while each person was celebrating the same season, their ways of expressing that celebration were perfectly unique and tailored to their lives. Just like our trees.

Happiness Survives

A year ago today my friend Vic got in his car and he never came back home.  The last week of 2011 was spent praying for him, getting in touch with old friends, sharing pictures, tears, kindness, support, hugs, devastation, disbelief and the rest of the emotions that accompany an untimely death. 

I’m still, as I’m sure many are…in some sort of shock.  The funeral is over, Vic is gone, but my gut still turns at the thought.  How horrible it is when bad things happen to good people. 

I didn’t want to write this post.  I’ve put it off for a year now, even though in the end I knew it would offer some sort of closure.  Losing a friend so suddenly is surreal.  I can only think of Vic’s death as his realization.  As if he figured out life before the rest of us and he instantly ascended to the next level.  That’s truly the only way I can stomach someone so young and kind leaving this world so early. Vic could have done that.  It’s entirely possible that he figured life out at the ripe old age of 32.  He had more energy than all of us combined.  He was always smiling.  His red hair glowed.  If anyone could have figured it out, it would have been him. 

Before and after the wake and the funeral, we visited New York City and attended Phish shows with the rest of our old college friends.  The energy was strange, but all three nights Vic was in some way around us.  A balloon with his nickname “Partytime” landed on my toes in the middle of the first show.  We all hugged a little harder and wore our emotions on our sleeves along with our Army bands.  As a group we endured the loss of our friend and still kept on in the true Harris spirit.  I was constantly reminded of the intense importance of friendship, both local and long distance.

It was harder to say goodbye to these friends when the year drew to a close.  We don’t see each other very often anymore.  We’re spread throughout the time zones “like leaves of an old maple” as the song goes. But I like to think we all left a little stronger, with a sense of comfort in the bond of old kinship.

Today, there are still a number of images and sensations burned into my mind from last December. Vic is buried under two young red maple trees.  I remember wondering if anyone knew that come autumn they would blaze just as crimson as his hair in the sunlight.  I wondered if anyone else felt the odd warmth on their back at the tail end of December.  Or noticed the V in the sky as they drove away from the cemetery. 

 

 

On days like this, days when I miss Vic and I’m sad about losing him, one image in particular helps lift my spirits.  After everything was said and done and everyone had parted ways once more, we received a picture message from my friend Kristen.  She had been cleaning up after her establishment’s  New Year’s festivities when a handwritten note floated down from somewhere above her and landed on the bar.  She immediately passed the message on to our group of friends.  I like to believe that Vic had something to do with it.

 

 

 

We miss you friend.  Thank you for all of the smiles, hugs, outrageous times and special moments.

 

Newtown

As a new mother I find myself incredibly sensitive to tragic news involving children. My mind cannot wrap itself around violence right now...my imagination runs wild and is inexplicably vivid. This shooting in Connecticut, I cannot begin to fathom the agony and horror surrounding it. I cannot even wish survivors well, for I know they won't be for a long time. I'm so sad that something like this could occur. The thought of someone hurting children claws at my insides. Newtown, I'm just so sorry.

Early sunsets these days...

Play

I was thinking about Doug on our daily walk today...and how we rarely play anymore. We walk a ton, but we don't goof off. I mean, he really isn't into fetch AT ALL...but there must be some game he still likes. Besides "chase me while I steal things"... It's hard to find time for everything. In other news Neil rolled over twice today...

Comfort

I was feeling pretty frazzled at the end of this day. I had been to two daycares, asked too many questions, stared at multiple calendars, used calculator apps, googled blogs about mommy guilt and reassurance. Money and convenience, proximity and instinct all words in my head. Neil and I were playing where's the baby with a red hand knit scarf when Colin swooped in, changed into sweats, grabbed the guitar and started playing Loser. Neil was propped on a blanket holding the chords and reaching for the capo. And everything just felt so much better with everyone in the same room exchanging glances, smirks, music and love. It doesn't take much to regenerate that feeling of comfort that you need so hard at the end of a trying day. Just a few familiar faces, a moment of understanding, a tune or two, a warm meal. I think we almost have a plan.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wHDeelwew1M&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Calendar

Let me just put it out to the universe and the one person that reads my blog that my schedule is completely jacked up right now, and when someone asks me what my schedule is like for the next couple at weeks I want to run. I have no idea. I sat in front of the calendar just now and looked at the days ahead, at work and Christmas and New Year's and Phish and things that are still up in the air and I kind of want to throw up. I like routine. I like adventure, but I also like routine. And there's no way that's happening before the beginning of 2013. I am so exhausted and I can't even really blame it on Neil...that much. But things change so rapidly around here, I'm sure I'll have a new complaint soon. I like the words "fall into place". Slowly but surely I am hoping to own those words.

Big Day

- we checked out a Waldorf-inspired day care

- Neil ate his first bites of banana (and reeeaaaaly liked it)

- I put N down in his swing completely awake and he fell asleep within 15 minutes

What next?

I just want to watch my kid grow up...

Fuck Me, Right?

At the vet

Chipmunk Update and Humidity Now

Neil seems to be doing better this morning, after a kinda rough night. He isn't coughing as much, and he seems more energetic. The Dr.'s office told me to forego an appointment as long as he continued to improve. I'm still hoping to buy a small humidifier for his bedroom (which is attached to ours)...but in the meantime I found some great free alternatives to boost your home's humidity:

- put a few drops of essential oil in a crockpot, fill with water and set on low
- set a pot of water on low on the stove
- buy some Betta fish or set up an aquarium
- add some house plants
- wet a sponge, place in a ziploc bag and poke a few holes in the bag
- place a bowl of water in the room
- brewing adds a TON of humidity to the house of course!

Since Neil's room is also attached to the bathroom, I opened his door and let Dad's shower steam escape into it this morning. I felt brilliant and duh-like when I thought to do this. Oh the advantages of a tiny house!

Tonight Doug takes a trip to the vet. She wears high heels and has a lot of cleavage...I'm not really looking forward to the whole ordeal. Maybe I should wear heels and cleavage too...

Lights

Sicky Poo Saturday

We enjoyed a lovely two day visit with the Corb grandparents, during which we ate dinner at Olde Bryan, attended the Victorian Streetwalk and drove out to Gardenworks in Salem. Neil met Santa and developed a big cough seemingly overnight. He's kind of miserable, as miserable as an insanely content baby can be. He spent most of today sleeping on Colin. His cough wakes him up when he's first going to sleep...and every hour during the night. As a first timer I'm obviously scrambling a little bit to find ways to soothe this poor guy and ensure we all get a few hours of sleep.

Colin has helped in a tremendous way, letting Neil nap on his chest all afternoon. But I figured it didn't hurt to ask the veterans. I am a member of the Facebook Group entitled Spa City Parents, and I'm probably the most frequent poster there. But I don't care. In the day and age where your mother is 300 miles away and your best friend lives on the other coast, it is sometimes difficult to find a tribe of mommas to give you advice about these types of things. I'm thankful for technology.

Anyway. Humidifiers. Vapor Baths. Aspirators, Tylenol, Massage and Hydration. All of these things have been suggested and are being contemplated this Saturday night. These and a marijuana documentary and a glass of wine.