To explain the blogging absence I'm going to use the opening paragraph from one my favorite blogs, The Tipsy Baker, because she does it so well,
The pause happened because living/cooking/eating/plotting got so far ahead of posting that
catching up started to feel impossible. Weeks went by. The hole got deeper. The only solution is to
do the most cursory catch up, forget the rest, and move on like I never missed a beat.
To catch up, I'll say that we've become members of Idaho's very small aquarium, eradicated pinworms, missed Thanksgiving thanks to the stomach flu, really matured into the terrible exploring new boundaries two's, realized that getting back in shape is really hard this time around, considered 2013 new year's resolutions, read and analyzed my favorite blogs, started considering my career and where that might be going, brewed kombucha, mastered potato latkes, turned the thermostat up, and generally enjoyed each other's company. December's challenge will be a fun one and get me back into regularly posting. Here's the boy!
The train tracks at the end of our street are finally getting the love they deserve.
His exceptional use of the word "please" got Porter a bonus trip to the neighborhood school playground. How could I say no when he asked so very nicely?
After asking to ride the camel at the zoo he was adamant that he be put "DOWN!" Most everything is a demand lately. Sigh.
When people ask how old Porter is I now say, "He'll be 2 in January." Gone are the days where age is classified in months, but I don't want to short him these last two months of babyhood especially since he's so big and people have assumed that he's 3 already.
He's an active little guy and being outdoors is the best way to wear him out. Although his energy seems boundless. We warm up after playing/working outside with daily tea parties. This involves sitting in the "tunnel" (a sheet draped between the recliner and couch) while we drink herbal tea from our respective tea cups. Our conversation centers on the temperature of the tea, whose tea belongs to who and the fact that we are indeed having a tea party. Tea parties are good for the soul.
His key phrases are, "Where (insert person) go?" "Come on (insert person/pet)" this usually involves pulling you in his direction, and "No! Go away." He's desperately trying to speak in long sentences, but it's mostly gibberish with a few intelligible words thrown in and obvious pointing at whatever is being discussed. I try to pay attention, but it's hard to respond to his questions when I have no idea what he's asked. He'll often repeat for my benefit and I usually end up nodding my head and agreeing.
There's become a slight obsession with trains and tunnels, and he continues to be fascinated by any sort of automotive equipment or machinery. He also likes to blow on the cats fur and watch it move. Porter is delightful, strong, laughs easily and can be quite persistent. We can see his sense of humor and personality developing daily. I can hardly believe that it's been almost two years since he was born. So much has happened and it's crazy to think what another 2 years will bring!
Getting the snow bib out for the first time this season. It was that cold and windy.
You have to click on this picture to see his expression. He's so serious.
At the dog park with Auntie Anna and Uncle Micah.
I didn't realize all of his winter gear is blue until I snapped this photo.
His feet finally touch!! Now he can really ride.
Playing around with the camera in the tunnel.
Pretending to be asleep, complete with fake snoring.
I think he looks like he's going into the office with dad.
I have a secret, but first you should know the back story. When people ask me where I'm from my usual answer is Santa Cruz, California. It's a true answer too. I graduated from high school and college there, and my parents still live there. It's where I go when I go "home". But my secret (which, if you know me, isn't really a secret) is that I'm really from the San Francisco Bay Area. I was born in Palo Alto and moved to Los Altos when I was 4. It wasn't until I was almost 15 that my parents moved me, kicking and screaming, to the small city of Capitola in Santa Cruz County. These days it's incredibly cool to be able to say I'm from Santa Cruz. And as far as I'm concerned, anyone who puts in high school time, in any city, has the right to call themselves local.
After a brief stint in northern California, in the gold rush town of Nevada City where my husband is from, Luke and I moved to Boise, Idaho. That was in 2005. No offense to my Idaho peeps, but those who don't know the glory that is Idaho and are from the west coast states, usually look at me sideways when I tell them we live in Boise. Being from Idaho isn't nearly as cool as being from Santa Cruz. I'm pretty sure it doesn't help that I listen to country music too, but that's from my California days people! I expected to be in and out of Idaho in 5 years. Almost 8 years and having birthed a native Idahoan later, I still told people I was from California.
Until our recent trip to Spain. When people asked where I was from I found myself answering that my parents are from California, but we're from Idaho, "one of the states in the middle." Then today, at the Farmer's Market, I ran into multiple people who I've known for years here in Boise. I had lovely conversations with all of them. It made my day to rekindle a friendship with a friend and former co-teacher of mine from Challenger. As a side note, I should mention that most of my really solid relationships here in Boise are with friends and family who have also moved out from California. This also makes the "local" line somewhat difficult for me to draw. I digress. What I'm getting at is that today I felt like a local here in Boise, despite my distaste for the absolutely frigid weather. The Farmer's Market is where I got many staples for my weekly menu, I met up with lovely people and then came home to my husband and native Idaho toddler and kitties.
When this thought initially crossed my mind I posted this on FB:
At what point is a person considered "local" to a place they weren't born?
So far these are the responses I've gotten:
psh i'm still waiting to be a santa cruz local and i've been here for 2.5 years
Completely not meant to be condescending, but I always felt that it was precisely when you don't see any reason to wonder about that question.
Did you buy a gun???
As I delve deeper into the person I am and am evolving to be, I wonder. Am I from Idaho? It's the place where I've found myself as an adult, established a career, got married, became a parent and maintain an incredibly strong social network. So much so that I call them my Idaho family. In some ways I feel so at home here, but there are other things that make Idaho feel so foreign to me. I'm not a Christian, when someone says 'bronco' I think horse not football, I'm really socially liberal, I feel a little like a misfit at times and I certainly haven't bought a gun.
Carry Bradshaw, the fictitious main character in the show Sex and the City says that after living in New York City for 8 years you can call yourself local, and by that measure I'm just about there. I also have this ardent desire to move back to the central coast and to be near family. When really pressed, however, I can't say that moving back would be an easy choice to make. For the future, I'll probably tell new people I meet that I'm from Idaho, but I'm not sure I'm a local yet.
Now for some incredibly cute pictures of my little spud.
Helping rake the leaves with his broom.
Who knew roses could be so resistant to the cold?
I ran one errand too many.
Puppet masters.
There was a bake sale at the school where I voted. On school propositions no less. Genius.
My neighborhood finally got a little lending library!
He finally got up enough courage to run all the way through the zoo tunnel alone. Then he kept running while I had to sprint around the exhibit with a stroller in tow.
Zoo Boise jeep. Most favorite attraction of all time.
We're back from Spain and an entire week into November, which means I better get this post written before it's too late. Thankfully, jet lag and the time change fall right in line with November's challenge. In January I made it my goal to be in bed by 11pm and I'm still struggling with sleep. It's amazing how much does and doesn't change in 11 months.
I'm still chasing the elusive consistent sleepy time that seems to baffle parents of young children. When I have gotten some consistency I found that, like many toddlers, Porter's day starts between 6-7am. I know that many adults also start their days at this time, I was one of them when I had a "regular job". Since I don't go into work however, I expect to sleep at least until the sun comes up or 8am, whichever comes later. Ha ha ha! Silly mama.
Something in my schedule had to change, so I tried to get to bed earlier (again). This lead to many nights of laying in bed with my eyes closed and checking my clock every 2-7 minutes. Even though I was in bed with the lights out, my mind and body wouldn't shut down until past 11:30pm. Old habits die hard. Then I read a story from Nancy, a sleep specialist, about how she had a medical condition which got her off her own sleep routine. I think she mentioned Downton Abby in there too, which has kept me up many a night as well. To recover, she enforced a strict bedtime routine and within a few weeks she was sleeping like a baby regularly.
And that, friends, brings me to my November challenge: establish a sleep routine and make it to bed by 10-10:30pm. This will hopefully get me 7.5+ hours a night and alleviate the desire for naps. That is, if Porter resumes sleeping through the night after our international excursion. Don't feel too bad for me though, it was totally worth it. Here's the kicker, I've been so exhausted upon our return that I crawl into bed before 10 and promptly fall asleep. Hopefully by the end of this week we'll be back on track and will get Porter back to sleeping through the night. Oh joy, sleep training for all. Stay tuned!
