Miles took his first step last week, a couple yesterday and his first series of steps this morning. Charlie started walking away from him with a toy Miles wanted and Miles apparently didn’t want to take the time to get down on the floor and crawl.

This will be a short and sweet post to mark this Milestone (I simultaneously love and hate that that’s a pun) as we’re still quite busy moving into our new rental. We have been living in it for nearly six weeks but we’ve begun painting the interior and tonight is all about rolling, rolling, rolling.

Since beginning the moving process we’ve had a really lovely season of visitors, starting with friends from Holland, my brother, Harry’s mom and my brother again! We have loved their company, so much so that the moving in process has been quite delayed (though Harry’s mom helped us tremendously by weeding like mad and thoroughly enjoying the boys in play). Plus, this house was nasty…and continues to be rather gross. So, we’re cleaning it up, moving in bit by bit, and enjoying a lovely back yard with plenty of space for a walking toddler and a running, jumping, curious four year old.

One year old! For twelve months you have made us smile and been someone very, very precious to love in the household. You are still so young and barely talking, yet we already know much about you. You are vibrant.

The way your face lights up when you see a ball would make even Scrooge smile. Your love of all things round has been with you from the beginning, I think. I remember very early smiles upon seeing the polka dot quilt behind my back while I nursed or rocked you. And all of our round ceiling lights still please you, but when you were just a few months old, you would coo at them endlessly.

I wonder if you’re going to be quite good at accessorizing. If people are wearing hats, glasses, scarves, helmets, they often get a smile from you. I love that you kiss the biker donning fluorescent green sunglasses and a pink helmet in “Good Night Seattle” and are usually ready to leave the book behind after her page is turned. And you think I’m really silly if I wear bunny ears. I know, it is pretty funny. Especially if I’m vacuuming with them on while you’re in the Ergo. Sometimes I just hope for someone to knock on the door.

You have been seeking out books and music lately. Sometimes you will chase us down, crawling several feet with a desired book in hand, and throw it at us. I have a few book bruises on my legs to prove it. The current downstairs favorites include Barnyard Dance (probably because we sing it and add a nice foursquare twang to our tune), and Charlie’s Thomas book with buttons that make music. I love that you’re bopping your head and torso to the tunes. I can’t wait for you to shake your cloth diapered booty while you’re standing, too.

You are resilient. You can hit your head, get your toes stepped on, or be pushed aside and protest with a little more than a grunt. Therefore, when you do cry in pain, it completely breaks my heart and I search you all over for some horribly serious injury. Last week you dove into our radio nob and cut your ear. That was awful, but we all survived. I’m really hoping you’re not the kid that dives off of trees to fly like Superman. But I have a feeling we’re headed that way.

And oh, Miles. You are so silly and playful. No matter how many times we’ve gone through your nap and bedtime routines, you still try to play instead of sleep. You will do almost whatever you can to make me laugh and play with you, which now includes making silly noises, grabbing my face, clapping your hands and playing with your lips. It is incredibly cute, extremely tempting, and sometimes you win…but only for a little bit.

You’re also turning into a car driving machine. You have the “voom” noise down and are getting closer and closer to being able to beat Charlie in a race. For now, you’ll have to settle for your mom helping you get back the cars he’s always stealing from you. Granted, you often steal them first.

So, Mr. Miles William Love, today we celebrate your birth. We can’t imagine our family without you. You are dearly loved.

I walked to Macrina with Miles on me in the Ergo in the wind and pouring rain tonight. I had made chunky lentil soup and craved some hearty bread to go with it. So, I grabbed our enormous maroon and white umbrella, strapped Miles on, and made the (two block) trek. Makes us sound real adventurous, doesn’t it? Not that he has a choice in these matters. Because of the gloomy weather, it was magical. Miles was taken with the umbrella and probably the sound of the rain, and held or pat the handle most of the way there and back. On a normally busy promenade, we passed only one other person on foot and very few cars splashed puddles our way. The ground is completely saturated from all the rain we’ve had the past month or two…or decades…so, puddles were enormous and not confined to the streets. All sidewalk cracks and indentations were filling up, too, making our walk a bit of a dance.

Avoiding these small hazards due to uneven, old sidewalks brought Japan to mind and my heart grew heavy. Reading the front-page briefings, seeing NY Times pictures, and watching a few videos online is about all I can handle. I’m not sure when media started posting pictures of the deceased, but it seems recent to me. Either way, I’m not desensitized to it and still find that moments like that, particularly families with loved ones bodies, completely take my breath away and send me sobbing. I have worked in a long-term acute care hospital with a very high mortality rate, so I am accustomed to death more than most. When patients there were taken off life support with family around, it was so sacred that all of staff knew how to properly handle themselves and support the loved ones. It was devastating but beautiful because they all knew it was for the best. These unexpected tragedies are not for the best. I’m not sure that sharing those moments publicly is either. All I know is that I walked a bit slower for awhile and soaked in Miles’ sweet face staring at the umbrella.

It’s been a really beautiful season of life in our household lately and my awareness of all the ridiculously hard parts of life facing some friends and family (sick children, strokes, divorce, deceit, chronic illness, death) has heightened my love for and appreciate of these times. It is wonderful having Harry work from home. Our family is so much more connected and less stressed because of it. Also, we are having daily giggling episodes that I want to bottle up, like when Miles laid on our couch with me crouched above him. He grabbed my hat off my head and laughed like crazy when it landed on his face. We did it over and over again with Miles not tiring of the joke. He’s also found stomach nuzzles particularly funny. And sniffing, especially if I smell his feet and say, “Pee-ew!” afterwards. Charlie’s a huge fan of this game, too.

Much to my relief and surprise, Charlie’s really enjoying Miles’ mobility. He delights in getting Miles interested in him or a toy so that Miles will chase him. Their combined laughter during this game is my absolute favorite sound right now. (I have a playground moment to thank for this- a woman warned me that crawling was the worst adjustment after getting used to a new baby’s arrival, so we started playing differently and problem solving these situations months before Miles could crawl. Now it’s not a surprise and Charlie’s prepared. He still has moments he hates it and at his best suggests that Miles takes a nap or goes to bed and at his worst hits him away, but I’m certain it’s easier than it would’ve been without that planning.)

These experiences, along with thumb-sucking snuggles, are sometimes enough to make me weepy. Harry & I often look at each other to exchange the knowing glance that we are experiencing pure beauty. Learning to seize the day by soaking up laughter and love, being more vulnerable and giving more freely to others is my biggest hope and prayer right now. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. We do not know our days. May I not squander them by focusing my attention on “productivity.” May I be willing to risk that a walk in the rain, slow and wet, might be the highlight of my day. And even if it’s not, at least I have a greek olive loaf to compensate for my soggy pants.

I’m about 99% certain Miles’ first word was light, weeks ago. Now I’m also hearing these on a semi-regular basis:
Mama
Mmmmmmm (for food)
Ah-buh (for almond butter-he absolutely loves almond butter)
Cha-ie (yes, you guessed it)
Ja / jaja (Harry’s current label for some weird reason)

The separation anxiety switch was just flipped and now Miles only wants me if he’s tired or upset or hungry. The minute he’s in my arms, he calms and he sucks his thumb. It’s beautiful and sweet and I love it. With Charlie it bothered me sometimes because I wanted him to be content with Harry but now I know how quickly it will pass and that I need to soak up the snuggles.

To my darling son, on his fourth birthday.

How did you get so old?  You’re going to hear me say those words at least once a year for the rest of your life!  At least for now I’m spared the, “oh, mom!” even though I imagine I’ll like that a bit.  I really can’t believe that you are four, though.  Just a few glances at pictures from years past and I am transported right back to the days of you stringing sentences together with your mouth closed, shoveling snow in our Colorado driveway with your Charlie-sized shovel, learning to ride your balance bike, laughing like crazy at our silly talking stuffed animals.

You have learned so much this year and I am so proud of you and thrilled for you.  You’ve learned to use the potty, draw detailed pictures, ride a bike, negotiate many aspects of play with other kids, climb, jump, tell stories, build elaborate train tracks and tall towers and so much more.  You’ve adjusted to a new city away from many you hold dear and you’ve become a big brother- a truly amazing one.  Your kindness towards Miles astonishes me sometimes.  I am always moved by how you care for him, delight in him, laugh with him, and even are willing to put up with him (at times!).   You have learned how to let Miles be cared for first sometimes, even though it can be really hard to wait.  And you’ve endured so much crying.  You hate it so much and it used to always make you wail, but now you know to run to your room and give yourself some space or wait patiently.  You are learning how to take care of your own needs.  This astonishes me.  So, I ask again, when did you get so old?!

Right now you are a continuous song.  I’m pretty certain you’d win a four year old beat box contest.  Almost everything you do, you do with rhythm coming out of your mouth.  You delight in making up songs of all forms, whether it be with words, isle of tune, our piano or beats.  And they are silly.  “Maisy was trapped in the maze” was played on the piano yesterday.  Oh, and your dances!  You now regularly tell us “I want to get my boogie down” at which point we play the Al Jarreau song and dance together.  You’ve got the moves, kid.

I also want to celebrate your dear, sweet heart.  You are so kind.  One of your preschool classmates actually told her mom that you’re “too nice” because you even share with kids who don’t ask nicely.  I think you have a heart of gold, Charlie.  I am so thankful that I get to journey through another year with you as my son, this time as a four year old.  May there be ice cream for breakfast and belly-aching laughter just like today.

I love you, Charlie.

Mama