Single Digit Weather / Single Digit Family

"When you fly too close to the sun..."

"...sometimes that's what you get."

Hay mucho mas que ver

Dear Mariana,

No one deserves to hurt. Sometimes the most simple lessons are the hardest to learn, but I'm learning them for you babygirl. Someday you'll be able to look at me and be proud because I'll be proud of myself too. Knowing that I would never want these circumstances for you I won't allow them for myself.

You're the strongest person I know and you're only 15 months old. Just yesterday you fell off your bike and got a bloody nose. You took it like a champ, you know that I'll be here to pick you up when you fall down as long as you need. The greater goal of course is that you'll be so strong you'll learn how to take care of yourself all on your own, though we all need help sometimes.

I watch your independence blossom as you stand on your own two feet and chase your changing curiosities. You dance shamelessly screaming and squealing, your laughter is the siren cry of a muse. The joy you breed is contagious, and being around you has taught me that no one deserves to hurt.

There is no time to invest in the destructive nature of others when there is so much time, strength, and hope to invest in you. I will not squander my better intentions. We both deserve better, you and I, my dear. After all it's awfully embarrassing being the Emperor with no Clothes, expecting great things investing faith in great things and walking around with nothing to show for it.

My lovely little bean sprout of the heart, we are entitled to not hurt. We are entitled to our happiness, we are entitled to love and support always. You can expect great things out of me Mariana, I won't let you down.

Home is where the Bean is

Shes' right here next to me, wearing the same onesie with the rocket ships and moons that she has been wearing for the past two days, under the hoodie I brought home for her from the University. She's sort of just doing her thing, swinging her legs and looking around, jamming to the music that's playing from the tinny-sounding speakers under the computer.

She slept in today. She woke up without tears and crawled out of bed all on her own. From the doorway she stared at us, wide-eyed and alert, her voice hoarsely asking: Da-da? Da-da?

I ran my hands through her hair, telling her that she should do something with such a beautiful head of hair but she only snatches her head back and frowns at me: "No." Shakes her head and furrows her brows: "No."

I'm leaving soon.

It's a difficult fact to come to erms with sometimes. Knowing that she'll be here and I'll be away and that's soet of the way things are. I will definitely look forward to the summer but who knows if Mariana and mama-bear might just come over for a visit. Who knows.

I just wonder which teeth sahe'll be working on or which words she'll have added to her growing voacbulary. I wonder if I'll have grown closer to being that adult I speak so little of and make vague promises about.

Cross yourself he's coming. Be humble, Henry.

She's on the tippiest of tippy toes exploring cabinets and drawers throughout the house. I need to go enjoy these final hours because they'll have to last me what seems like a lifetime before I can refresh them.

good mornings slow to wake

Sorry for the overexposure of pictorial detail, I'm learning how to add them in and find I can't resist sharing so much of you, in all your glory of twiddling through the mundane day you seem sparkle and shine and incite cooing on my part. I never knew it would happen so easily, the habits of mothering.

We wiggle our way through books. We change the dirty diapers and you learn new signs and words, your brain is curious and in a constant growth spurt or acquiring new knowledge and scratching at new ideas. Your hair always sticks up in the morning, you resemble a baby Einstein. You'll help brush the front but you'll scream as I comb through the back rat tails. We work through them and layer on clothes for a morning walk.

From morning walks

When you smile big for the camera we can peek in to see your four proud teeth. There's another one poking through on the top side, nothing but a slit in your gums, someday you'll have a brilliant smile that will explode spontaneously at the smallest of things. Such is the amazement of seeing things through a child's eyes.

We walk the few blocks to the coffee shop where they roast the beans and drop the four quarters to fill our mug. We pet the beautiful puppy dogs and you yelp at them in excitement, doing signs, saying words, making noise. The dogs circle and sniff at you, wag their tails in approval.

On your chariot of the day, a stroller, we pile feathers, leaves, flowers, fabric scraps, mirrors, and whistles... magic for you to play with from here to there. But you uncover magic in the colors and sounds and feelings all around you.

From morning walks

From morning walks

Once at home we decide to adopt the abandoned bicycle that's been sitting on the corner of the yard and fix it up. Where it once lacked a seat there's now a plush pillow. You mastered straddling it so quickly, the whole of your family is excited for the day you can come along on bike rides by the ambition of your own two pedaling feet, not cozied behind in your mama's trailer.

From videos

Than we move into the backyard where you help dig holes to plant the broccoli sproutlings. You love making a mess of it and waiting for the excitement of watering.

From videos

And now the mornings meditations of this and that and the beautiful slow process of waking up unwinds into a long list of things to be gotten done. The boring details on the side of taking care of you: rent, childcare applications, errand running, grocery shopping, food making, gift making, school projects, phone calling, worker hasseling things.

Mama's school is close to over for the semester and winter holidays are fast encroaching. Eight days your father will be home, maybe you'll learn to say "daddy," as you've taken to calling all your caretakers "mama," with the exception of your your Nona, you learned her name quickly as you always look forward to her visits.

And what do you think of all these fusses we make over you and all the speculations and enchantments? You could care less, its time for a snack.

From morning walks

Bird Beak

It's Thanksgiving soon Mammas!

Baw-KAwwwww!

Bean Sprouts

"Mariana was practicing walking with her nona she started taking four steps at a time all on her own, she amazed everyone we all applauded"

from Brooke 11:01pm via SMS

The sound of one more pair of hands clapping is not heard, but they definitely applauded for our little Mariana bean.

This phone of mines has a couple of stuck buttons and plenty of scratches on its exterior, so I wouldn't say I am quite attached to it. Still, I am somewhat protective of it, watching for it to make a noise, to tell me to check it because I have a message like this or a phone call.

My window into Mariana's life opens and closes. Welcome breezes drift in, and Mariana is refreshed in my imagination. Not every aspect of her growth and development can be included in such a small, pixelated video or dark picture, but the attempt is so valuable to me.

I forget that Mariana has only pictures of me and so I connected my webcam and opened the window for Mariana from my end.

Mostly I heard her say "Mama? .... Mama?"

Brooke said she would smile.

I could only hear her and see my own face, grey in a small box in the corner of my screen, imagining what she must be thinking. Though Brooke is holding her, neither of us can yet imagine what she thinks.

Though I'm told that Mariana is developing modes of communication, so perhaps soon her mother and I will hear what's on our bean's mind.

This is a show for her. I make faces and I hear her respond as I imagine her pointing to the screen.

I can only hear her. I cannot see her.

Bittersweet is the knowledge that she is growing without me around. I can settle for a myriad of truths about it: she is healthy and growing, she is brilliant and curious....

Perhaps among the most difficult truths is that she is able to grow without me.

Another, that I am far away and finishing school.

While Mariana points and asks "Mama?" there are still others in her life who question the path I have chosen, so far away from Mariana.

Admittedly, it doesn't make much sense to be far away from such a wonderful little girl, especially when she is so curious to know why her father is talking to her from the computer screen instead of playing with her everyday.

Time with Mariana is for me a luxury. Time for me at University slows and quickens without me noticing these changes. 'How do we make parenting work from so far away?' is a question Brooke and I have asked ourselves perhaps more than other, more discouraging inquirers would. Time, again becomes the answer to the very questions posed because of it.

Q: What do I make of the time I spend away from my daughter?

A: In time I will know. In time... in time....

While you ask, I am formulating my answer, one day at a time.

One tallied day at a time, I attempt to make the best of this distance.

07-portishead-deep_water.mp3