10/52, 5/52: Sleep

"A portrait of my oldest son once a week, every week in 2014."
10/52

"A portrait of my youngest son once a week, every week in 2014."
5/52

Levi:  He is so two.  Levi is experiencing some major sleep regressions.  He wakes up a puffy eyed curmudgeon and requires either prolonged cuddling or a meal immediately to satiate his out-of-sorts feelings.  I understand completely because I am exactly the same way.  I am not a good napper and feel this same way when I wake up from my naps, be it 15 minutes (advised by well-meaning people) or an hour.   We emerge exhausted from trying to put him down to sleep.  Last night it took two hours and two frustrated parents to get this two year old to sleep.

Wyatt:  This aging newborn sleeps so much.  I have so many photos of him sleeping, but so few of him awake.  When I stagger from a darkened room and a sleeping toddler, I am greeted by a very hungry and sleepy baby.  I am very grateful that he sleeps solidly and soundly in the night, waking only once or twice to feed.  Once in the dark I reached out to feel him.  My finger was met by something warm and soft and it was only after he grasped me I realized it was his hand holding my finger.  A delicious moment in the dark.

9/52, 4/52: Focus

"A portrait of my youngest son once a week, every week in 2014."
4/52

"A portrait of my oldest son once a week, every week in 2014."
9/52

Wyatt:  Quiet boy.  He lies there, still and rapt, inviting me to gaze into his eyes.  The other day Levi made an observation about his brother's eyes.  He said, "The eyes are bright."  So right on.  Wyatt's eyes are the color of zinc.  They mirror everything, reflecting light and whoever he focuses on.

Levi:  This photograph was taken by Douglas, not me.  I have been frustrated lately, unable to document our lives the way I want to.  I cannot get my camera to focus on Levi the way I want to; he moves continuously and quickly so many photos are out of focus.  Then again Levi has been slightly out of focus for me lately--he remains in my peripheral view as I spend time recovering and nursing Wyatt.  I miss Levi.

Pop and Wyatt

Our hat project continues.  As explained in another post, we took Pop-and-Levi photographs, documenting Levi's growth with hats each month during his first year of life.  Now we are doing it on a yearly basis.  And what about Wyatt?  We debated how to set it up--all three of them together, or one each?  For Wyatt's first hat photograph with his Pop, we decided to do it with just the two of them.  For the next 11 months, we aren't sure.  But let me just enjoy this one, for now.

8/52, 3/52: Hands and Profiles

"A portrait of my oldest once a week, every week in 2014."
8/52

"A portrait of my youngest once a week, every week in 2014."
3/52

Levi: Still rosy-cheeked from his nap and clutching his little animals, Levi ventured a look outside.  We attempted to coax him into coming out to build a snowman, but he stood his ground.  He was excited just watching the babysitter add some prunes and a carrot to create a face for the snowman.  The light fell on his face in such a soft way.  "Need a snow girl," he said, still sleepy and completely oblivious to the fact that his mama could not take her eyes off him.

Wyatt: He slumbers most of the time, waking only to feed or to look about for a few wide-eyed minutes, looking absolutely astounded at the world around him.  Wyatt is still a slender newborn, although his legs are gaining strength (oh, those little kicks that sometimes propel him away from my body).  He has outgrown most of his newborn clothes.  I keep dressing him in this wonderful fleece cardigan because it's one of the few new clothes that he can claim as his own, not a hand-me-down.

7/52, 2/52

"A portrait of my oldest once a week, every week in 2014."
7/52

"A portrait of my youngest, once a week, every week in 2014."
2/52

Levi:  The second week of being a family of four has seen some challenges.  Levi misses his mama terribly.  I know that Levi will understand, eventually, that we will rediscover our balance and rhythm as a family.  He is growing more independent each day, simultaneously enjoying and bemoaning his status as a big brother.  Levi told me that I needed to move the book I am reading aloud so Wyatt could see it too.  Yet he needs his mama more than ever and tells me that too, frequently through words and actions.  I have never been more frustrated with Levi yet I love him more fiercely than ever.

Wyatt:  Yesterday my mother pointed out his symmetrical features and his asymmetrical ears.  Each day is a day of discovery--I have learned that Wyatt can be soothed by seeing his brother's face.  He fixates on Levi once Levi moves into his view.  It is so different the second time around--I have a glimpse of grandparents' ease around babies.  I can stop and smell the roses this baby.  I am relishing this lovely new stage of life.  Wyatt smells so good and whoever holds him finds it very hard to let go.

Mama's Stomach Broke: Wyatt Che's Birth Story

Photo Credit: Joanne Scott

The best-laid plans of mice and men oft go astray.  --Robert Burns

I bought a delicate, tissue-thin kaftan (okay, a glorified muumuu) specifically for the day of the birth.  I had an idea of what the birth would look like:

6/52, 1/52

"A portrait of my son, once a week, every week in 2014."
6/52

"A portrait of my son, once a week, every week in 2014."
1/52

 Two children, two boys, two sons, two loves.

Levi woke up an hour before Wyatt was born, so he became witness to the birth.  Ever since then, he asks, "Where baby?" whenever he wakes up.  Levi has stepped into his new role of big brother with grace, with patience and with amazing resilience.  We are so proud of him.

Wyatt is a sleepy and voracious newborn.  We take turns gazing at him, wondering the same thing: who are you?  Each day we learn a little bit more about this brand new human being.  I look forward to witnessing him grow and prosper with his brother.  Douglas said to me, "I feel full."  I nodded.  I, too, feel so full of awe, of love, of family.  It's a lovely feeling.

5/52

"A portrait of my son once a week, every week, in 2014."
5/52

Levi and Pop.  We began this hat photo project when Levi hit the first month mark of his life, and took photos each month (missing a month here and there) with the same hat.  When Levi turned one, we agreed to continue doing this every year around his birthday for as long as possible.  This may be the last photo of just Levi and his Pop, with the new baby coming any day now.

My Sister and The Hungry Dog

Borrowed from Cristin Carole via Facebook.
I'm 13, Cristin is 21.  She often took me to bars for photo booth snapshots.

I have three sisters that span two families and two generations.  My oldest sister could easily be the mother of my youngest sister.  In fact I could also be the mother of my youngest sister.  My oldest sister is not related in any way to my two younger sisters; people may call my sisters half-sisters.  But that makes no sense to me at all.  They are my sisters, through and through, wholly.

4/52

"A portrait of my son once a week, every week in 2014."
4/52

It is one of those things Levi just has to do.  Balancing precariously on the table with one foot tipping the chair back, a very dangerous endeavor for someone still somewhat unsteady on the ground.  I remind him of the possible consequences every single time.  He squints his eyes and says, "Sit down better.  Don't want to fall, hit head and cry."  Sometimes he sits down, but he always springs right back up and does the same thing again.  And once he did fall.  Levi knows.  This toddler just cannot help it--curiosity and thrill trumps all.

3/52

"A portrait of my child once a week, every week in 2014."
3/52

Levi tells me what I need to buy.  "You need buy orange balloon."  "You need buy new bus."  This time he told me I needed to buy some chocolate.  I happened to have a box of brownie mix in the pantry so I didn't have to buy him chocolate.   After being confined to my bed and being a less fun mama I wanted to spoil him, my little budding consumer.  Just a little bit.  So we made brownies and he was much more interested in the batter once again.  This photograph makes me realize how much time we spend in the kitchen, be it making brownies, making homemade play-doh, watering the plants or watching the snow fall.  

My Gollum

Credit: Douglas Ridloff

Paris was the pinnacle of 2013 in many ways.

2/52

"A portrait of my child, once a week, every week, in 2014."
2/52

Levi is unlike me.  He hankers for sweet things, asking for cookies and cake.  I found a recipe off Weelicious, choosing it for its simplicity and relatively healthy recipe.  Levi kept on eating pieces of batter, saying "What happened?" each time I caught him.

1/52

"A portrait of my child, once a week, every week, in 2014."
1/52

Levi sits on a little chair while he discovers the joy of water play.  A polar bear, a measuring cup, a bottle and a Hot Wheels car are the toys in the water bin.  He stays there for a long period of time, alternating from pouring water into containers and watching his toys sink.

I discovered the 52 project via practisingsimplicity.com.  Jodi, the blogger, began taking photographs of her children every week for three years.  The results are absolutely breathtaking--not only in its beauty but in its accurate recordkeeping.

While I photo Levi daily, I want to choose a photo once a week as a way to bring meaningful organization to the hot mess of photographs I have now.

Loosey Goosey

38 weeks

I stood in the kitchen stirring turkey chili ignoring a succession of Braxton Hicks until I felt a severe burning sensation in my hips.  I put down the wooden spoon and went to lie down with Levi in the living room hoping that playing with him would diffuse the pain.  It didn't.  After half an hour of squirming uncomfortably I texted my midwife.

The Zen of Knitting

There is irony in knitting.

Slipping one smooth needle into a knot, looping the yarn around the needle and then pushing the new loop off the needle only to start all over again becomes one seamless movement.  Again and again.  One tiny movement leads to a new knot, another completed row.

I find that repetition satisfying--my head bobs with the knitting, shaking my thoughts free.  It is during this activity I come up with ideas (like baby names), answers, and remember forgotten details.  I love the squishiness of the natural wool.  The colors make me think of the past; the project makes me think of the future.

The irony comes with the aggravation stemming from the slowness of the project.  One stitch at a time.  One tiny knot excruciatingly adds up to one row, then two rows, then a ridge and so on.   I clutch tightly onto the needles and yarn out of fear that I'll drop a stitch.  I knit at a snail's pace. I knit like a left-handed person because I first watched a left-handed person knitting.  I do not knit prettily.

When I stop and examine my progress, I cannot help but feel disappointed--that's all I did?  I even google up tips on how to knit faster and come up with nothing particularly helpful.  I look at some knit porn that spurs me on.  I knit on with determined doggedness, and there is nothing zenlike about that.

Knitting is calming and aggravating.  I love it.  I get nothing done; I get so much done.  

It was while knitting my baby's blanket that I came up with this blog post idea.

Life became busier last fall, when I began teaching two college courses without all the curriculum materials in place.  Commitments seemed to accumulate at an astounding rate.  Levi's grandfather was severely ill all fall; Douglas spent time at the hospital visiting his father on Saturdays and on Sundays went to rehearsal for Xavier Cha's performance piece.  We began preparing for my mother's move in, rearranging the guest bedroom.    One of our tenants got a job promotion and had to end his lease earlier than expected.  Levi and I ended our nursing time together and he began transitioning to his toddler bed.

During this trying time, I felt tired and cloudy all the time.  I dropped a few stitches, including this blog.  

My semester of teaching has ended.  Levi's grandfather returned home a few weeks ago, and came to visit us for the first time last week.  Douglas performed at the New Museum and I sat in the front so incredibly proud of him.  My mother moved in with us.  We signed on new tenants.  Levi's tantrums have subsided and we're tentatively calling him "an easy kid."  He loves his new bed and occasionally tells me that my milk is "all out, but soon have milk again for baby."

Now that the due date is just three weeks away and all those loose unraveled ends are knitting themselves up, I feel ready to face this blog again.  Yet I'm overwhelmed.  Where do I start?  Should I post photographs from the past months gone, or do I just start from now on?

I'm taking my baby blanket's lead.  Just pick up the dropped stitch and keep going on.