bug is now dig

Yep. I am merging my blogs. For a variety of reasons but mostly it just makes sense in my brain. I wonder if most of you read dig anyway? Oh, sniff, bye bug blog. I really do feel strange abandoning this url...but, it'll be good, I promise.

You can now read about chronicles of Margot Bea and upcoming little bean at dig this chick.

xo,
dig

oh my the vacation

Oh boy I seriously cannot put words to our trip. It was grand and full of all the stuff I hope vacations will be full of: family and friends, good food and drink, sunshine, art, go time, down time. This here post took me weeks to put together...combing through nearly a thousand photos and trying to condense it into a reasonably long post.


the drive to Portland was windy

Paige and Arann's wedding week was beautiful and thoughtful. Some of my favorite elements: They installed an art show titled Advice and asked the guests to submit a work of art; On the day of the wedding, the women hiked seven miles on one trail and then men on another and we met in this green meadow where Arann had arranged a serenade as Paige descended, her girls trailing. We were all in wedding attire; Paige set up a photo booth and all guests clamored to snap shots behind the dark red curtain; Arann played music in Valley Ford and the tiny, sun streaked bar was filled with their people (and one asshole who urged me to consult my pediatrician because I was most likely damaging Margot's ears with the acoustic guitar and mellow vocals. ahem.); Paige and Arann didn't actually wed because they are waiting until they are in a state that endorses marriage between any two people, regardless of sexual orientation. They are so cool.

Mostly I loved time with my two oldest best friends.



rehearsal dinner on Arann's mom's farm. yes, it is that amazingly beautiful and perfect :: bug crashed when we got home and slept until 9 the next morning.


the ladies pre-hike


the boys and girls hiking


arranging the flowers


bug loved watching Arann play :: Kaki and Mia played piano with Margot in the gallery


Paige is just so beautiful :: hanging lights and getting ready the day before


walking to the reception :: we stayed at a sweet schoolhouse just a few blocks from downtown Point Reyes


oh the dancing :: Margot got a blister


xo


so so sweet :: LOVE you


photos by Paige Green

My favorite was the day after when we hung in a sunny park and drank champagne from the bottle. And, then, back to their house for beer and pizza and present opening.



I love the men Lindsay and Paige chose. And they love Andy. That's the best part. There's none of that yo, why did she pick that guy. It's all just love.


most photos above by Paige and with my camera. Um, she is magic.



We then ventured to Portland to hang with bug's aunt and uncle. Geez, again, I feel so fortunate that I love my in-laws so so much. In fact, we'd be great pals even if Andy and I weren't together. At Neysa and Joe's wedding my toast was all about in-laws; my cousins, aunts and uncles were a giant part of my childhood, lessons and vacations and holidays. My memories. And, at their wedding, I realized I looked forward a lifetime of memories to share with them. And while I don't see my brother as much as I'd like I can't wait for the same thing with him and whatever lucky lady he finds.


Joan treated us to epic pizza :: science museum


little mona :: neighborhood walk


Andy feeling kicks :: Neys making muffins



Margot got her first diaper rash that I attribute to her first disposable diaper wearing. So, she aired out one day on a walk and found great great joy in just peeing.



Mount Taber park


Margot loves her aunt


lazy mornings :: again, the pee :: a full day going to galleries and museums :: dinner with best friends (wish I had better pictures of a lovely dinner)


I scored that stripedy purple dress at a thrift store in Portland and want her to wear it all the time

Neither Neys nor I were sure if we wanted to have kids and then we had bug and now they will have a babe in July. I can't wait to meet this chicken. And, for our chickens to play in sand boxes, dine at the kid's table and learn to ski together. Yay.

I was completely impressed with Margot on this trip. She most often napped on our back in a crowd. Sometimes she didn't go to bed until 10:30. She rallied and had so much fun. I love how much our friends and family love her. Oh it is the greatest.


Joe was trying to serenade Margot into taking a nap :: Joe is now one of her words

The drive home was long and sad because it just isn't fair that we live so far away from our people. And, on the drive home, at a gas station, I stood to exit the vehicle and felt a familiar and unique ligament pain that I have only felt once before. Exactly two years ago when I was pregnant with Margot. Took a test before we even unpacked the car and the blue plus sign practically flashed and lept of that stick. Margot was with me and I handed her the test and instructed her to bring it to her papa which she faithfully did and he said wow.


and while I am just barely pregnant, I am quite pregnant to look at.



Some of my favorite pictures of us ever. We were at a restaurant and she was just so giggly that the entire, cozy establishment was taken with her. My love. Eight more months of just you and then someone else for you to giggle with.

let's start with an egg hunt

So so much has happened in the last few weeks. It began with a week of love, local food and laughs in the electric green of northern California.



Best friends and lots to do to get ready for an amazing wedding and, thankfully, it all required us being together. So fun. So full. So thankful for my friends.

It ended in what I fairly certain is my favorite city, Portland.



Strolling, art-gazing, shared meals and more love with my sister and brother-in-law (although I always feel funny calling them that because that is what people who dislike their in-laws also call them. And we all really love each other a lot). No agenda and tons to catch up on. So relaxing. So rich. So thankful for my family.

And because I am editing 982 photos and trying to sort out all of the important shit I want to write about, I am starting with the last-minute find of a Saturday easter egg hunt on Sauvie Island in Portland.



The plan was a group adventure in Forest Park. A few bikers, a few runners, a few hikers. This was all diverted in my brain when I learned of a egg hunt on a nearby farm. I was fixed on seeing Margot hunt for colorful objects in grass. We aren't church-going folk and, to me, easter is about smarties-colored, hard-boiled eggs, kicking my brother's ass at the scavenger hunts my mom concocted when I was a kid, sugar, bunnies. Some sort of something needed to happen before a hike in the woods.

The bikers took off and Margot, Neysa, Joe, Charlotte and I landed on this sweet sweet farm on an island in Oregon and got our exercise later. There were hundreds of kids lined up and an overwhelmed farmer on a megaphone trying to decide how to start his first-ever hunt. A tall man was screaming at some kids who started picking up candy around the perimeter, YOU'RE CHEATING! STOP! and a short woman with an out-of-control german shepherd was sternly and flatly told by another short woman You take that dog away. Seriously.



The drama and chaos were high. This was gonna be a dang good easter egg hunt. Margot looked like this.


We had woken her up from her nap, grabbed whatever combination of warm clothes we had in the car and plopped her down in a grassy field of squealing children with our car trash bag in her hand for an egg-catching device. She was wasn't so sure. But the excitement of our group caught on fast. She had a stellar egg-support crew (I just love those three. Loved them for years but love them even more for loving to go to an easter egg hunt with bug).



I led her at first and picked up a few shiny, chocolate eggs and placed them in her pouch. It was all quite confusing but then she became quite smitten with the idea of picking up balls and putting them a pouch. Ball she kept saying (oh and her words! Joe, Jack, shoe, car, bird, juice...vocab on fire). We collected five as the farmer hadn't anticipated so many chickens eager for candy on that day. Candy supply was gone in three minutes flat.



But five was enough because she just kept dumping them out and putting them back in. So, really, she picked up at least a hundred eggs.



It is little stuff like this that makes me swoon over my girl. Not helping her too much, letting her sort it out. Watching the joy and satisfaction she experiences when she gets it right. Oh, she's so cool.



Coming soonish: lots of stories and photos of those I love. It was a fab trip and I am happy to be home. Or, as my mom would have said, I am hoppy to be home.

everywhere all at once but not omnipresent

So I have so much to say. And record. Shit, the fact that I still haven't posted photos and stories about Thanksgiving and Christmas sits in my brain like a turd in a punch bowl.

The thing is there are experiences I want to record for Margot like our Utah ski getaway with 16 friends or the backcountry ski trip last weekend where our home base was a hut on a mountainside down the Bitterroot. Play dates with her little pals and dinner parties with her big pals.

And then there is the everyday stuff. Our life. How we roll. Baths, playing with Alice, stomping feet, drawing on the chalkboard, jumping on beds.



And then there is the development stuff that is *blowing* my mind. Like her words. And her teeth and her climbing and ability to understand things I say like Margot, go get your dog book and Do you want to go to the museum?

Oh boy. So I sit here, typing, in my heels and suit jacket that are uncomfortable, inhaling cold pad thai from the hut trip while nests of garlic paper, cat hair and bug socks lay on my kitchen floor because she is asleep and I can't even waste a moment of this opportunity to write about the rapidly moving, super stimulating and pretty dang happy life I am living.

There's a chance it could come out more like vomit than poetry.

First, the everyday.



Today is Monday and my day off but I had an important meeting with a donor this morning. So, after skiing out of the hut yesterday, I raced home for a prep meeting. And, this morning, I got up early to get my materials and pitch together, scooped bug into the car and, in my suit coat and conservative pants, headed to the museum. My toner ran out so I had to shake the pehjesus out of it in between the thirty documents I was trying to print. Margot raced from one office to the next, hi hi whoa wow. Then, four minutes after I was supposed to leave, giant poop explosion and then, as I was frantically changing her diaper on the floor of my office, thinking about how I really should look in the mirror before this meeting, she rolled into the shitty diaper and smeared poo all over her pant leg and shoe. Eventually I was off to my meeting and left bug with her museum family. The ask went well. I felt all awe snap when I strolled into the rainy parking lot. I did a good job.

But back to my other job. I picked up bug and her toys and cups that were spread all about the office. My co-workers had given her a tour of the new exhibit, watched Beyonce and played on the xylophone. Seriously, love those people.

And then we came home to a house spattered with ski gear and four days worth of newspapers that bug "read" last night. Life is busy. And while I sometimes feel like I take on too much, really, it is all just a part of the beautiful and messy web of my happiness. I need it all. Like, skiing and girlfriends, film screenings and coffee. Sewing and running, cooking and really full glasses of wine. Gardening, taking photos and writing. Having a career that is demanding outside of business hours. I choose to get a bit less sleep, have a bit messier house and lots of unfolded laundry. It's all a choice. I choose a saturated schedule, strategically packed with the things that make me full.

Margot and Moana:



And, skiing.

The Utah trip was to meet up with Andy's childhood pals and their partners (who are amazing women I adore). It is our third year March Nasa Holiday in Utah. There is one other kid, Alex, and he is 12. Sixteen of us shared a house, skied, ate, soaked, sipped. Everyone loved on bug.




Last weekend we hiked into a yurt down the Bitterroot with two couples, one of whom has a two year-old. I loved hauling the kids along. I completely disagree that, after having a kid, life changes so much. At least in the way most people mean it....like, now you don't get to do anything you did before. Of course life changes but I am here to proclaim, yes I fucking can do what I did before. And, it is more fun.




The lodge was amazing--an old restaurant with a commercial kitchen, giant fire place, pool table, hot tub, piano. And a view of the entire Bitterroot valley.




Without a proper alpine touring set-up, I snowshoed with all my gear on my back to the top of the mountain. I post-holed like every other step. It was hard. The entire experience was a microcosmic metaphor for my life: moments of Look where I live and the amazing people I am friends with and my incredibly hot husband. I am so lucky to have access to this place and the health to carry me up this mountain garnished with a few moments of This sucks. I am tired and slow and only half-way. I can't do it all.



My chicken at the lodge several thousand feet below with Freddy and her pal, Cooper, my blood pulsing through my body, calves burning, I listened to the present rhythm of my breathing and I kept on. And I finished and it was beautiful.


I was nervous--the avalanche danger was listed as "considerable" the day before. But my man knows snow and after all the appropriate pit-digging and stomping, we skied down to a cold beer and warm embrace.



And, on to her development. She is a kid. Like poof. She colored for the first time but it became immediately clear that she is more of a conceptual sculptor than a two-dimensional drawer.



She now says, with regularity and purpose:

Alice :: pronounced A-isss
Sam :: pronounced Sa
bye :: usually in the form of a question, ba ba?
up :: pronounced ah
hi :: said with the magic of a great hostess. She makes eye contact and says hi!
down :: pronounced da
yay :: everything is yay
wow :: quite dramatic, wwwwwwwwoooooooooooowwwwwww
yes :: either pronounced ya or yyaaaeessshhh
no :: straight up
no way :: pronounced like no why. At first I thought there was no way she was saying that because I never say it. But I just said it in that sentence, so aha.
whoa :: so cute, when she stumbles, she says whoa like Joey Lawrence
uh oh :: she looks to us for affirmation after she says it, like was that in the right context?
sit :: happens to sound exactly like shit
mama :: not consistent at all but when she says it, it melts me
papa :: her favorite human on the planet. She most frequently whispers it but she also shouts it when she see him followed by a gutteral, gremlin-like giggle. Sometimes she sounds british like puhpah with inflection at the end.



baby :: she calls herself baby in the mirror. Pronounced like bebe. Little frenchie.
two and three in sequence :: Andy started this with her. Two is her best word. We say oooonnne and she says two, teeeeeeeeee! yyaaaaay!

Dang, I could sit and watch her figure the world out for hours.



Women have many roles. And, for the most part, I think we balance them pretty well.

We wear suits to meetings.



We hike 3000 vertical feet and ski.



We support our partners in their passions.



We lay with and hug our kids when they fall off the bed.



And all of it together makes me. And each role is essential for the others to evolve and thrive. Ah, love.

ps I wrote a little something for Today's Mama about women who inspire me. Click here to read my 150 words.