m a m a :: m i l i e u

He Knows Clothes.

2012-02-10T17:47:00.000-08:00

Noah has an unwavering affection for fashion...which is ironic, really, considering he is often known to many who know him as more often than not, naked. But, winter in Canada is here and clothes are just more than practical, they're necessary tools for preventing frostbite.

A friend and I chuckled yesterday as we spied him eying a little guy's runners at the library storytime--silently coveting the double blue suede velcro clasps. There's no doubt about it, Noah Finn likes clothes. He changes--up to 10 times a day, everyday. It's gotten to the point that I have had to set some ground rules. For example, he gets up to two mama-helped changes a day after the initial morning dressing (correcting an inside-out shirt, getting his huge melon head through a tight neck hole, etc.). After that, if the mood strikes for new attire he's on his own. Crumpled and only briefly won clothes adorn the house floor from downstairs to up. I never know if they're dirty or clean.

I am not by any stretch of the imagination calling him fashionable. No, he has the typical three year old penchant for mismatched madness. Among his favorite duds most recently are pajamas, sweatshirts that he's long since grown out of and most recently, dress shirts together with rain pants. He rarely selects from more than just a handful of things that have usually been categorized by me as "play clothes". All of the stuff that mama considers worthy of a trip out and about, stay perfectly folded in the back of the dresser drawer until they're outgrown.

Today he wore a pair of sized 18-24 months striped cotton stretch pants to his tumbling class. Thank goodness there were no busted seams during his somersault routine. Risk in the name of fashion is apparently the name of his game.

Busy Hands, Happy Heart.

2012-02-09T20:00:00.000-08:00

Living in Canada has gifted us a few things-- an appreciation for true seasons, an intimate understanding of numb toes, "free" health care and most applicable to this post, a knack for crafting. I don't mean the popsicle stick and construction paper variety either. I am referring to the type that requires various needles, practice and patience--lots of patience.

My very sweet friend (and first crochet and knitting teacher), Asami, told me just before we moved that I'd return to Los Angeles a clever and crafty crow in the arts of knitting, crocheting and sewing. I chuckled then with doubt and chuckle now, again, at my error. I am still a novice, an amateur, a consummate beginner, but I have begun to fill the home with lots of handmade goodies as I putter along the long road to learning. She'd be proud.

Most recently, I finished a crocheted heart garland to don some mantle or window of the house for the month of February and just last night, I put the *finishing touches* on a re-purposed cotton sweater dress for little Fern after being inspired by these super sweet sweater pants (which are also on the "to-do" list--I am quick felting an old sweater of mine in the wash as I type). It took only two (late) nights and, et voila! It's plenty far from perfect--it's super bulky, the fabric lining has drastically limited the natural stretch of the cotton knit and as time passes I have already devised two revisions that I will make in the coming days--but it was fun to make and very fulfilling to complete something so functional with my own two hands.

Be on the look out friends (ahem, Dean)...you may be receiving knitted underwear for the holidays this year.

Homebodies.

2012-02-04T09:43:00.000-08:00

lazy saturdays

first sewing project

measuring fern's caboose...

Love, Squared.

2012-01-31T11:13:00.000-08:00

So much effort is spent on wondering how to juggle more than one. But I find, more times than not, it's double the laughs and twice the love. Add a little bit of sunshine and it's immeasurable beauty.

Happy sunshiny Tuesday, mes amies!

Big City Blues: Toronto, We Love You.

2012-01-28T10:04:00.000-08:00

We ventured to the big city this week--just the kids and I--to meet friends visiting from Los Angeles. I'll admit that it was a risky move. It could have gone horribly awry. But it didn't. It was delightfully enjoyable. And after the kids were tucked snug in their beds on the night we returned home back to London, I was researching Toronto rental properties on kijiji. That's right, I've got it bad--the big city blues.

It's no secret to frequent readers, friends and family, that I love the big city. It pained me to leave Los Angeles after more than a decade's habitation and my adjustment to London has taken more than half-hearted efforts. I finally like living here because of the friends and connections that we have made, but I do not like the city and I don't think that I ever will. So, I shall pledge to make the two hour and change trek to Toronto often so that I can get my urban fix--good food, inspired views, creative pulse, surprisingly incredibly kid-friendly locals and a much-anticipated stop at IKEA on the way home.

In the meantime, I'll hold on tightly to the memories made on this most recent voyage urban-ward until, alas, we trek again.

Streetcar bum.

Snack break at the Royal Ontario Museum.

A very sleepy Fern posing with prehistoric fish bones.

Of Dinosaurs and Armadillos.

2012-01-10T10:02:00.000-08:00

The beginning of a new year brings with it a whole host of promises and possibility all punctuated by the constant fear that another year's end will come without any of them having come to fruition. And then, alas, they become the next's.

2011 brought us change on a grand scale. Though we snuck the move from California to Canada in just under the last nose hair of 2010 (having moved on December 12th), the year was still a transitional paramount. Aside from adjusting to the coldest, longest and snowiest winter that either of us had experienced in a long time--or ever seen, in the case of Noah--Dean and I, adjusted to a whole new host of factors that greatly altered the landscape of our home.

The past 12 months has brought a lot more Dean home than the last eleven years combined--and we lived together all 10+ of them. Hollywood engulfed him whole and left little time to nurture a budding family. Thus, the move to small town Canada where he's home, a lot, and well, that takes some adjusting to. I am used to a lot of independence, and he, the freedom to be totally immersed in his second love, making music. Now we resemble the model of a nuclear suburban family and it's bittersweet--the bitter and sweet taking turns for the more dominant seat. It's predictable, 9-5, and includes dinner being ready on the set table everyday by 6:00, the kids in bed by 8:00 and heavy drowsy eyelids that have us in a slumber around the time that we used to just be getting started. The town is simple, the people are sweet and our lives have taken on a rhythm that can't be denied as familial healthfulness--and that's exactly why we moved. But, I cannot honestly say that I do not miss the brisk, noisy, emphatic pace of the big city--with its museums and cafes and shops and bums and smelly dark alleys and allowances of anonymity, great global cuisine and urban edge.

And then, Fern arrived in May with all her splendor, her peachy sweetness, her dove-y coos, her ability to sleep and smile and happily be a baby content with the world and her place in it. It's baby-ness so different from Noah's early months and it begs to make me wonder if it's not because of where she was born into--warm water, at home, and into the embrace of this new life. If so, then we made a wise choice.

As 2012 kicks off in full gear, I look only forward in anticipation to what this first settled year will bring--as a new family. I still often wonder whether we'll ever make it back to Los Angeles and if so, whether I will look back on our time here in London with as much forlorned heartache as I do the golden west coast now. In the weeks and months following our move here, there were certain songs that I could close my eyes while listening to and smell the ocean, feel its breeze and warmth of the Pacific sun. Their effect has faded as we coast into month 13 and I wonder if that's not such a bad thing.

Here's to looking ahead. Welcome, 2012.

marble ramp

of dinosaurs and armadillos

break, fast

wooly hats and wiggly feet

Early morning monkey-wearing

avocado smiles

Ho, Ho, Hum, Another Year Is Done: Pizza Parties, Poutine And Loads Of Poop.

2012-01-04T07:16:00.000-08:00

Oh the weather outside is frightful and the kids are undelightful, off to the drugstore we go, shovel the snow, shovel the snow, shovel the snow...

Though it's 4 degrees Fahrenheit outside with a -15 degrees windchill, our home is no more desirable a place to be. Fernie is in a fitful, sleepless, teething hell and Noah's as ferocious, unpredictable and temperamental as a wildebeest with a hangnail as he fights off whatever's ailing him.

I am dying to get outdoors--out into the nearly 2 feet of fresh snow recently dumped upon our Canadian homestead. There are snow angels and snowmen waiting to come alive and plowed powder drifts the height of Godzilla to jump our way into. But, alas, the sickies are keeping us cooped up inside with the stale, brittling tree and dusty holiday decor. All that's left to do is reflect upon the month that passed with such flurriful haste and bundle up enough courage to begin the great post-jolly-season-tidy.

Noah's 3rd birthday and preparing a Christmas morning for two, for the first time, kept me bustling a good part of December. Noah had a wee fête mid-month clad with a monkey mask craft, top-your-own homemade mini pizzas, pin the banana on the monkey and story time with "Curious George and the Pizza". It was a simply lovely time. Christmas morning, too, went by with lovely memories to keep and cherish but in our minds, only, as we didn't get the first picture of the grand gift opening affair--video only. What were we thinking? I wanted much of the present exchange with the kids to be homemade and though I didn't finish all of the projects that were on Santa's list, I'm happy with the outcome--consumer-free as it could be.

My Dad and sis hoofed the 16+ hour drive up from the Carolinas on the 26th and managed to forage their way up and out of the house only once (aside from a few grocery store ganders) to partake in Noah's first ice skating effort and an uniquely Canadian poutine feast (fries topped with cheese curd, gravy and any other vein clogging topping you can shake a defibrillator paddle at). Only shortly after our dining experience, they both took on differing but equally miserable ailments that rendered them couch bound for the rest of their short visit. New Year's Eve was equally non-eventful. We all managed up a game of scrabble with wine and made it to approximately 11:31 p.m. when Noah awoke crying from his first fever to date. After several trips upstairs to quell his moans and whimpers, I threw in the towel and spent the midnight hour scrunched in the dark in a sweaty toddler bed with not even a clock near to mark the arrival of 2012.

So, there you have it. 2011's laid to rest. 2012's here. What this year will bring remains a mystery and god willing, it's all pleasantries only.

Happy New Year to All!

Noah and his homemade birthday candle

Birthday Sis & Daddy

Storytime--"You naughty little monkey"

Christmas morning--Fernie shows interest in Keith Richard's new biography

Liking the wooden chew worm that Santa brought

Christmas snuggles

First time on the ice: "A" for effort

Victoria Park

Nursing a sick Pop Pop and Auntie Meg

Dueling guitars

Another Wordless Wednesday: December Is . . .

2011-12-14T19:33:00.000-08:00

Maybe this happens in the lives of all bloggers? I have so very much to say but so very very little time to say it all, lately. As such, this blog has been in desperate need of content, real content...the kind of musings and mulling that engined its start over three years ago. Of late, it has become nothing more than a host for pictures lucky to be paired with a brief caption.

Oh well, here's to another Wordless Wednesday while I search under and over for more hours in the day. Enjoy!

December is . . .

Waiting for the tree that Daddy cut to fall

The smell of fresh fir

Breastfeeding by the campfire & toasting marshmallows (tied with forgetting your coat at home)

Runny noses and woolen hats

Making snow angles

Choo choos in the snow

Gingerbread houses

Snuggling indoors

Afternoon sunshine near the Christmas tree

Loving your kitty mask from the Waldorf Winter Fair

Playing peek-a-boo

First bites

Second snowman of the season

Wordless Wednesday: Happiness Is . . .

2011-11-23T18:20:00.001-08:00

learning to button your own sweater

sleeping siblings

bum-sunning in the afternoon


irish brown bread in the morning

babywearing your monkey while talking on your train

new seasons for the nature table

Wordless At Week's End.

2011-11-10T18:47:00.001-08:00

Fern, in Daddy's arm: 5 months.

Noah Finn, breaking bad in the backseat: almost 3.

Boos To Yous!

2011-10-31T18:35:00.000-07:00

Our Halloween weekend was boo-riffic! Most importantly, I have decided that I want a new camera for Christmas. Forget the other things that were on the list.

Dean was working with the talented songstress AND photographer, Valery Gore, who was visiting from Toronto to do some pre-production work for her forthcoming album this weekend. She was our house guest and went along with us to a Halloween event at Fanshawe Pinoeer Village on Saturday. After seeing her pictures this afternoon, I longingly yearned for the wealth of a rockstar (and a new camera)--if only to be able hire a personal photographer as gifted as Valery to shadow my family all day every day capturing moments as beautifully as this.

Thanks so much, Valery, and please, please, visit again and visit soon.

Tonight was a delirious bounty of the likes of processed sugar that Noah has never seen. We went trick-or-treating down the block and back. It was just enough for Noah to fill two buckets with lots of stuff he's never seen before. After dumping it out all over the floor just steps from the front door and closely surveying each individual piece, he simultaneously engulfed handfuls while spinning in circles. After his manic high--which was absolutely hilarious to be witness to--his fall to earth was not as bad as it could have been or as predicted. A rambunctious bed hopping session petered out any dwindling sugar and he passed out sticky and happy after a handful of stories in a large bear tent in his bedroom.

Sweet dreams to my two little spooks--and a very Happy All Hallow's Eve to everyone else!

Dos Hermanos.

2011-10-27T15:03:00.000-07:00

Los hermanos el amor.

Five Months Of Fern.

2011-10-25T19:24:00.000-07:00

Over the last almost three years, this blog has become a sort of memory keeper for me. As crafty as I like to be, I haven't put together the first baby book for either Noah or Fern, so mama:milieu--which I originally began in response to my mother's whining about living so far away from her unborn grandchildren back when I was pregnant with Noah--has become the best go-to I've got for both the big and not so big moments of these most precious early years.

As such, I am going to be sure not to let little Fernie's fifth month pass without a milestone mention. Last week, she turned five months old. And, it was in that same week that she mastered the toe hold and suck, began enthusiastically vocalizing "b" sounds and rolled onto her tummy for the very first time.

Happy fifth month, my little Fern Adele!

Falling Into Fall, The Ontario Version: Party Gnomes & Pumpkin Patches.

2011-10-23T22:26:00.000-07:00

There is no doubt about it. I love fall. Dean thinks I'm a loon--he readily tells me so--when I openly confess every October that pumpkin is one of my favorite words. I love how your lips have to gently pat together twice to muster out the two essential consonants. And, I could rap myself up in all of the cozies that it conjures up in my mind--nutmeg scented candles, steaming mugs of cider and woolen socks warming nippy toes. I must admit that I missed it all so ever sorely in Los Angeles. The month of October still came and went in 31 days, but thick socks and apple cider never quite found their way into our 70 degree weather.

While I am still not London, Ontario's, biggest fan, I am simply swooning over the autumnal bliss recently experienced during short jaunts out into the countryside--it's lovely. Nature is aflutter here as it prepares for imminent hibernation. The trees are shedding their spring and summer bounty creating deeply hued carpets for the squirrels to feverishly hide their winter nibbles beneath. The birds and butterflies are making way slowly down to destinations where the sun will shine a little bit warmer in the months to come. The pear and apple trees, which only a few weeks ago were yielding vibrantly ripened fruit, are browning and thinning as they, too, prepare for winter's slumber.

It has been so long since I have experienced real, true, changing of seasons, such as I have this past year, that I had almost forgotten the comfort that seasonal rhythms bring--carrying you through the course of a year in very orderly and distinctly unique separations. And the four seasons of the year are further punctuated with each of their own set of surprises--bulbs peeking in colors from beneath the late season snow and the tapping of maple trees for sweet amber syrup in the spring, to the asparagus and berries of summer, to the apples, pears and squashes of fall. Each ends as quickly as they began. You blink and the dawn of the next is on the horizon. But, their fleeting availability only sweetens the time you have to spend with each.

As such, we are getting out and soaking in each moment of this season that I can. The rain clouds parted this weekend just in time for us to squeeze in the last bits of dwindling warmth--and fall fun. We attended a woodland-themed birthday party yesterday. There was no shortage of radish toadstools, pixie punch and garden gnomes. Noah and little Fern donned felt gnome hats that I sewed especially for the occasion. I hope that they still fit for months to come because nothing would please me more than to see their chubby little faces tied within its soft and jingly confines while engaged in imaginative play.

Today was spent away on a farm just 30 minutes outside of town. During the summer months it hosts acres of waist-high bushes heavy with plump ripe blueberries. We picked over 20 pounds of them back in July and while we just finished of the last of our frozen stash this past week, we'll have jam to last us throughout the winter months. This time of the year, however, the fields are abound with pumpkins of all shapes and sizes, as well, a zip line, hay bale tower, goats, chickens, pigs, corn cob cannons, pumpkin catapults and a tractor-pulled wagon ride to the farm's outskirts and the coolest corn maze I have ever seen.

To be honest, I am not sure that I am anticipating winter as much as I did fall, but I know that it has just as much to offer. It only may take a little digging beneath the snow to find its surprises.

Holding On.

2011-10-15T09:51:00.000-07:00

Chilly weather, winds and rain have moved in and our little Indian summer is over, it seems, and surprisingly I am at peace with the dissipating warmth. I'm somewhat ready for the next season to carry us through the rest of this year. But as another year slowly creeps towards a close, gone are more moments that will never return. Ever since Dean celebrated his 36th birthday last week, I have been seriously waxing nostalgic. I climbed into bed with my sleeping Noah that night and cried. Having kids, and most notably a second, has unexpectedly turned me into a mushy, gushy, kissy, huggy, sentimental wreck. I can see, literally see, Noah and little Fern growing in their sleep. Every morning they are bigger, taller, more clever than the day before. The minutes and weeks and months and years are passing all too quickly and as I laid crumpled up in his little toddler bed, I saw Dean and myself 5, 10, 20, 30 years from now--grey, old and begging the kids to come home for Thanksgiving. We will have been together for 11 years on the 29th of this month. And the last 11 years have felt like a blink of the eye, a fleeting second buzzing past at lightening speed. How fast will this time ahead of us pass? Looking through our wedding photos tonight in an effort to finally put together an album--nearly 5 years post nuptials--has only compounded the urgency of my anxiety. We are dated. We are not really wiser. But we ARE older.

The husband of a mommy acquaintance of mine back in Los Angeles died a week ago this past weekend of a brain tumor. They have a 3 year old son and a 1 month old baby girl. When I learned of his passing, I was cooking dinner. Simultaneously I felt sick to my stomach and suddenly the task of preparing food for my family somehow seemed irrelevant. Time is so fleeting, so fragile, so frail, so frank. It is not nostalgic. It just passes without hesitation. It is an efficient and unsympathetic employee of life.

I have five grandparents, so the weight of the inevitable is growing heavy. Now that I have reached my 30's and have begun looking outside of those self-possessed 20's to notice those around me aging, I can't stop from looking ahead to all of the pending heartbreaks. I know that growing, aging, change and even death can sometimes be beautiful--at least in the sense that it is a natural progression of time's passing--organic--unstoppable--unavoidable. But now that I have arrived to a place of visceral awareness, I don't like it one bit. I want to fire time, or at least teach it some manners--encourage it to go about things a little bit slower, kinder, gentler--like a Southerner sipping sweet tea on a sweaty front porch. In the least, I am hoping that this sob way of viewing forthcoming birthdays and the arrival of 2012 is as fleeting as the time that I curse, or otherwise I need get better at living in the moment regardless of what the future holds because if I screw up the now, the then will really suck!

Apples, Pumpkins & Turkeys, Oh My: Part II--Happy Canadian Thanksgiving.

2011-10-11T18:30:00.000-07:00

Our first Canadian Thanksgiving proved to be a fabulous feast. We dined with our dear sweet friends and neighbors on turkey and all the fixins'. I contributed cranberry orange relish, an apple & rosemary rustic tart (with apples picked fresh from the orchard last week), roasted asparagus with brown butter and pecorino and rosemary garlic buttermilk biscuits to the scrumptious spread. Following an amazingly educational and enjoyable day at the Pioneer Village (see Part I), yesterday was restful as we lollied in the park most of the afternoon soaking up any and all of the rest of this fabulous Indian summer.

Apples, Pumpkins & Turkeys, Oh My: Part I.

2011-10-08T22:29:00.000-07:00

As the Canadian Thanksgiving weekend kicks into full swing, we are bracing ourselves for overloads of free range stuffed bird and all the fixins'. A three-day holiday is part of the festivities and this 70+ degree weather has resulted in outdoor fever. Bouts of backyard leaf hopping were plentiful and visits to all of the local outdoor markets we could muster to gobble up the last few weeks of farm fresh Ontario produce. We also ventured apple and pumpkin picking this past week and to Fall on the Farm at Fanshawe Conservancy's Pioneer Village today. Both were delightfully sunny and beautiful days spent soaking in the season's last rays of warmth.

The outskirts of the city is ablaze with crimsons, golds and ambers--the maples and oaks are especially breath taking--one just must tread lightly beneath the walnut trees as they drop their hard and heavy ammo without warning.

This Ontario fall just might just be lovely enough to make the forthcoming Ontario winter bearable.

All In A Good Day's Play: Scenes From The Day.

2011-10-07T07:13:00.000-07:00

The joys never end when twenty little fingers and twenty little toes reside under one little roof. Some days are more productive than others--those that aren't, are all-day in your pajamas kind of days and those that are, are get out of bed and seize the day kind of days. Today was a pleasant hybrid of both--little peaks of productivity followed by silly, giggly valleys of lolly and gagging.

Several clothes changes and spinning tops later, we made it to sunset where rest and another day awaits us.

She & Him.

2011-10-05T06:02:00.000-07:00

Little, Fern Adele, 4 months old.

Noah Finn, 2 3/4 years old.

How fast the days go, how quickly these two little people grow.

All For Fall.

2011-10-03T21:19:00.000-07:00

Pumpkins before roasting, fallen maple leaves, freshly jarred homemade roasted pepper salsa.

Pinecone & sunflower butter bird-feeder that Noey and I made one afternoon.

Lentil soup with chicken and kale, wholewheat sunflower buns and homemade apple butter.

Powwow & Harvest Fest at the Ontario Museum of Archeology.

Fall is upon us. Real fall. The kind of fall that nibbles the tip of your nose with the quick flitting breeze that rustles leaves from their branch perch and sends squirrels into a nut hiding frenzy. It's been overcast, cool and rainy--the kind of autumn that I haven't felt for over a decade. I must be honest, it's nice--fall always was my favorite time of year. It never did feel quite right putting mums on the stoop in Los Angeles' 70 degree temperatures.

So, in light of the season, we pulled out our fuzzy sweaters and rain boots and dove right in. Decorative gourds fill a basket on the coffee table, leaves are raked into big puffy nests for jumping fests, pumpkins continually roast in the oven while loaves of hearty, seedy bread rise under warm towels on the kitchen counter. We've crafted pine cone bird feeders and leaf rubbings and stewed and jarred homemade apple butter, peach chutney, ketchup and roasted pepper salsa for the winter--all fresh from either the farmer's market or a neighbor's garden.

Yes, both the joys and bounties of fall are plenty. With Dean's birthday mid-week and Canadian Thanksgiving just around the bend, I am sure that there will only be more of them to follow.

Happy October and Happy Fall to All!

WWW.DaddyDean.

2011-09-18T12:21:00.000-07:00

So, Dean's finally jiggy with the new millennium. Late, but better late than never (i.e. his Canadian schedule has afforded him time that his Cali one never did). He's got himself a website, a blog, as such. For work, of course. Pass it on: http://deanalannelson.blogspot.com/

O'Canada: Lamentations On Life In London.

2011-09-18T12:06:00.000-07:00

Don't be blue little Canuck, it'll get better, eh?

Even if 8 months of winter are upon us.

Okay.

I have made a deal with myself to find the beauty in our everyday, here, in London, Ontario.

The truth is--and any local who reads this may be more than a little upset at my admission of this--I don't like London. I haven't written much to this fact on this blog. I wanted to give spring and summer a chance before I aired my dirty laundry about the place. But the real truth of the matter is, I'm not a fan and I am not sure that I will ever be. What can I say, eight months of winter just doesn't tickle my fancy.

Honestly, any place following in the wake of a decade's living in Southern California and Malibu to boot, truly has tough competition--let's be fair. It's hard to move an inch without oozing with inspiration over everything in eye shot--turquoise seafoam, surf urchin, glistening sea rock, desert-flowered cliffs, sea lions and dolphins dancing with bronzed surfers, golden pacific sunsets, trannies on unicycles--eye candy is plentiful. It wasn't hard to find something unarguably beautiful everyday.

Aside from the aesthetics, London just hasn't opened up for me in the ways that L.A. and its closest shores had for me as a new arrival. And as every season passes too drastically here (summer too hot, spring too rainy, and fall too short) on to the one that lasts the longest--winter--more than half of the year long--I yearn for the hum drum melancholy of Southern California's perpetual spring--where the sun shines everyday and flowers are always in bloom. Not everyone may be a fan--I get that. But I was smitten with the place and it's memory in my fond heart only goldens as the distance and time between us widens. Will we go back? We are definitely planning on it. But in the meantime, to make the most of this Californian hiatus, I must stop longing for what was and embrace what is.

Therefore, going forward, I'll try as I might to make London not just a place of residence, but a place that I enjoy living. I must. For we will be homesteading here yet another few years, I fear. So, I vow at this moment to make a conscience, concerted effort to look only ahead--never back--and find the beauty in our everyday, even here, in London, Ontario. It will just take a little work and a sharp eye. But I am finally willing to put in the time. Let's see what I can find.

The Summer That Was: Babies, Roadtrips & Poutine.

2011-09-16T13:08:00.000-07:00

Home Sweet Home.

One nervous meltdown, four toll booths, one rain-drenched car interior (don't ask), and 2,000+ miles of roadway later, w e a r e h o m e and I am woefully late blogging about it. We've been home for several weeks now, but getting back into the swing of things has taken longer than I anticipated.

For starters, we had our dear friend, Gabe (of the band, bikos--check them out here and here!), out for a visit from Los Angeles. Every time friends visit us from the sunny southwest, I ache for it's golden shores even more--I m i s s home. His visit passed with a blur (time flies when you're having fun!) and ended with heaps of potine--a Canadian, or should I say, a Montreal-ian delicacy, that Dean and I had been putting off trying until that perfect moment--and so, with Gabe, on a rainy and chilly Sunday evening it was to be tried for the first time. I hate to say it, but it was sinfully delicious. Who could resist fries topped with cheese curd, gravy and any other heart clogging topping one could dream of?

Gabe & Noah--boys, being boys.

But now that summer has halted abruptly into 50 and 60 degree temperatures this week, I must reflect back on the summer that was . . .

Summer 2011 brought with it sweltering heat, drenching humidity, a new baby girl and a three-week road trip from Canada to North Carolina and back. Are we crazy? Perhaps. Nuts even? I am sure of it. If not before this trip, than certainly after. Traveling with a nearly 3-year old toddler and a nearly 3-month old baby was harrowing, confusing, exhausting, hilarious and downright completely insane.

Here was our harrowing road trip route: Niagara Falls, Baltimore, Shenandoah Valley in Virginia, Raleigh, Greenville, Emerald Isle and Fayetteville in North Carolina, D.C., West Virginia, Pennsylvania, upstate New York--and a few more little stops in between. We went to pools, beaches, mountains, museums, a baseball game (which we sadly do not have any pictures of) and visited more family in more places than you can shake a stick at (pictures of the roadtrip warriors here).

All-in-all it was a fantastic trip--a vacation, not so much. But that kind of goes without saying when traveling with kids. The drive from Carolina to Canada was actually somewhat pleasurable. We had finally mastered the stop and go rhythm needed for naps, playtime and drive times to coincide happily. Therefore, you may have noticed that there are many more picture collages on the back side of the vacation travels for just that reason. On the front side there are very few--and the reason is simple--it was worth forgetting.

Since we've been back, I've been one crafting mama. Thanks to the incredible Lotta Jansdotter simple sewing book for babies and toddlers given as a gift from my sweet friend Cyndy, I've been one bib, drool kerchief and giraffe rattle making lady! And, so much so that I have been derelict on my task of getting to work on Halloween costumes.

Fernie Drool Kercheifs.

With our Parent & Child Program at Waldorf resuming and Dean returning to a teaching schedule this week, I hope to also gain a bit of normalcy in my routine with the kids. Since Dean has had only a partial schedule since the birth of Fern in May, this will be my first stint entirely on my own with the two maniacs. How I will fare is yet to be seen. Especially with winter just around the bend. Winter, in London, Ontario, uugghh, uugghh, uugghh.

In the meantime, we'll harvest our pole beans and frolic outdoors as long as Father Fall permits!

Summer Roadtrip 2011: From Canada To The Carolinas, A Pictorial Tour.

2011-08-26T06:59:00.001-07:00

Niagara Falls, Canadian side & Baltimore, Maryland with the Neilson's

Afton, Virgina in the Shenandoah Valley with The Nelson's

Raleigh, North Carolina with Omie and Poppop

Kidscape Kid's Museum in Raleigh, North Carolina

Fernie x 3

Fayetteville, North Carolina with Grand Omie and Grand Papa Jim

Blue Fins

Fayetteville, North Carolina with Granny and Great Grandpa Surette

Museum of Natural History in Raleigh, North Carolina

Crowder Park, Apex, North Carolina with cousins

Emerald Isle, North Carolina with Grandma and Grandpa Nelson & cousins

Beachy Fern

Washington, D.C.--Smithsonian Museum & Washington Monument

Washington, D.C.--Smithsonian Museum & The Capital Building

Bedford, Pennsylvania

Allegany, New York

On the road

Canadian Cuties.

2011-07-26T14:17:00.000-07:00

Love Squared.

Fern (9 weeks).

Play.

Summertime Splendor.

Sweet Like Sunshine.

House On (Two) Kids: Before And After.

2011-07-13T10:04:00.001-07:00

Before

After--note the sleeping baby on far left of couch with an unfolded shirt as a blanket

Though I have never seen one, I am guessing that a brain on crack must look an awful lot like a house on kids.

Nearly 8 weeks into parenting two spells disaster for our homestead. Our cloth diaper pail overflow'eth with delightful poos near the basement door, unfolded laundry creates soft crinkled mountains on all available surfaces that aren't the floor, the dining room table sits littered with the remnants of past meals (inhaled, mind you, not eaten)--I could continue room-by-room in this fashion--spelling out the chaos that has been created and housework that has been neglected over the last two months--but I won't. And I will certainly spare you both details and a pictorial tour of the bathrooms.

I'll simply admit that a maid, or a re-visit from Omie, would be much appreciated right about now. Mom, if you're reading this (and not running in the opposite direction) . . . hint, hint, hint.

There Was An Old Lady . . .

2011-07-07T20:32:00.001-07:00

. . . who lived in a (Canadian) shoe.

She had so many children she didn't know what to do (okay, only two, but do two incredibly needy cats count?).
The pictures look cheery, but I feel oh-so-weary.
Oh, mothering two, both the hours and sanity are few.
My brain is mashed potatoes and the house is upside down so now I am deliriously bed-ward bound.

Seasons Of Change.

2011-06-23T12:31:00.000-07:00

Peonies from the garden

Adjusting to the seasons here in Canada is not unlike adjusting to the birth of our new baby--sometimes it's simply pleasant, others it's darn right difficult. Coming from a place that had only one meteorological state of being--70 degrees and sunny--means that any season experienced here is more than we are used to. Throw in a super long, white and frigid winter, a delayed, humid and rainy spring and a super late summer (that of which from what I understand does not begin until July) and you throw us into a virtual seasonal tailspin.

We survived the heaps of snow, but I am not promising that we'll make it through the blooms of spring. Dean and I slather our peeling and chaffed noses in moisturizing cream nightly--seasonal allergies are driving us battier than our two and a half year old throwing himself on the ground in a fit of simultaneous devastation and rage for the fiftieth time of the hour. Trust me, I am talking real batty.

The question is, we survived winter with one child . . . will we survive the remainder of spring with two? While both spring and a new baby bring with them sweet and delicate little treats for the senses to indulge, it's the uncontrollable variables--like the pollen count and a toddler named big brother--that lead me to doubt my, our, ability to cope sanely.

What will the flowers of spring look like come summertime? Probably a lot like Dean and I will--withered, frail and a wee crispy around the edges. But, only time will tell. Only time will tell.

Happy Daddy Day--2011.

2011-06-20T11:26:00.001-07:00

Our Father's Day weekend in pictures. Last year's Daddiness Day was spent in Malibu with only one wee tot. This year's in London, Ontario, with a real big boy and a real wee tot. Oh, how things can change in a single year.

Hope that yours was equally lovely. And a happy blog-belated Father's Day to my Dad, the most wonderful dad and Poppop anyone could ask for.

All In A Good Day's Play: Summertime Fun, Summertime Fern.

2011-06-15T10:35:00.000-07:00

Summertime Fun.

Summertime Fern.

Welcome To The World, Fern Adele!

2011-06-10T12:33:00.001-07:00

It's been almost a month since I last posted--but for good reason-- we've had the baby! Welcome to the world, Fern Adele!

So better late than never...here's the official post: Weighing in at 7 pounds, 7 ounces and 19 inches long, our beautiful baby girl, Fern, was born at 12:49 p.m. on May 19th at our home and in the water under the loving care of an amazing team of midwives, doula and husband. My mom and Fern's big brother, Noah, were also present for the amazing occasion.

In short, the birth story is as follows . . .

I awoke to the "popping" sensation of my water breaking at 6:30 a.m. I showered and made blueberry banana walnut pancakes for the family. After we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, the morning passed quickly as mom and Dean filled the birthing pool while I walked around the house breathing through light contractions and helping to prepare our home for the birth. My doula and midwife arrived at noon just as the contractions were beginning to grow uncomfortable. Active labor quickly began and after only a short time of working through increasingly strong contractions on my hands and knees, I felt Fern bearing down. Following a quick exam that determined I was 10 cm dilated, I entered the birthing pool. 20 minutes or so later, Fern was gently born in the water on her own terms without so much as a push! It was an amazingly peaceful and beautiful experience.

I have so many pictures to share but just no time to comb through them right now. All in good time, all in good time.

Wordless Wednesday.

2011-04-27T05:09:00.000-07:00

All In A Good Day's Play: The Star In The Making Even Though We Left Hollywood For Canada Edition.

2011-04-25T12:06:00.000-07:00

Chillin' like a shaded and mouse-eared guitar playin' villan.

An Egg-tastically Homemade Holiday--And Other Easter Fun!

2011-04-23T11:36:00.000-07:00

Half a dozen homemade crocheted eggs and hand-sewn mommy and baby felt bunnies for Noey's Easter basket. For the quick and easy egg pattern, visit this cute crafty site: "Easy Makes Me Happy".

Easter Friday at Thames Park.

Easter Saturday after the Children's Museum egg hunt.

Easter Papa at the bunny ear craft table.

This month has been a trying month no doubt. Turning 32 took a deep backseat to a quick stomach flu bout followed by the month-long influenza that I had been battling...which all proceeded two popped ribs. The pain of that, my fellow readers, rivaled that of natural, pain-med free, childbirth--no joke. It seems that a deadly combination of pregnancy (when women's bodies produce the hormone, relaxin, which naturally loosens the joints) and strenuous and rigorous bouts of yard work, yoga and nighttime coughing is what did the dirty work. Dean took the week off work to allow me rest and several chiropractor visits--my ribs are thankfully, thankfully on the mend.

But with with only a month or so now before our little bambinette arrives, there is little time to rest. I have so many crafting projects in the hopper before her arrival that the list extends to several pages of my notebook. Of these, I have at least finished a few of the Easter ones that I had in mind--sans the crocheted Easter basket for Noey, which will just have to wait until next year!

So far this holiday weekend has turned out to be lovely. We had been enduring continued wintry and blustery days of rain mixed with hail and flurries this week. But, tomorrow, Easter Sunday, it seems is forecasted to be sunny and warm. So, off we'll head for a third day of enjoying the great and fickle Canadian outdoors.

Hoppy Easter to All!

Little Baker Boy.

2011-03-31T12:11:00.001-07:00

A serious little baker boy,
standing on a wooden red chair,
clad in a wee turtle apron,
for added fun and whimsical flair.

Making homemade shortbread with mama,
in shapes of animal fun,
to quickly devour without a crumb left to spare,
when the cookie making is all said and done.

The Big Chill.

2011-03-26T22:10:00.000-07:00

Things have cooled down here at our hustling homestead for many reasons.

We ventured to Toronto, weekend before last, for the first time since settling here in Canada to tag along with Daddy who was presenting at The Canadian Music Week. We stayed at the uber-hip and historic hangout in the Arts District on Queen, The Gladstone, where each of the 37 rooms are custom designed by a different artist. Our room, The E-LE-MEN-TAL, was as fresh and inspired as the sustainable and local fare served at the cafe. Frankly though, it was a quick weekend--too quick. I wish we could have explored more, but we'll be back. We loved Toronto--I didn't want to leave. I was ready to pack up any empty boxes still lingering down in our basement with all of our belongings and head to the nearest brownstone in downtown that would rent to a pregnant mom with a toddler and two cats. I loved the bustling avenues and the plethora of culture, counter-culture, international food, organic butchers and grocers, fresh markets, galleries, eclectic shops, variety, diversity--life pulsing with soul uniquely its own. It's apparent to me now more than ever that I am a big city girl. Bunk me in a big city apartment with a weekend country cabin and I'm in habitat heaven. Really, that combination would make me as happy as pie. This suburban existence? It just ain't for me, eh? Guess I had to give it a try to know it though. Now that I do know, however, our time here in London may feel extra long.

The week following Toronto was a bit of a flurry. We picked up a toddler bed for Noah during a 4-hour jaunt at the local IKEA on the way home. The bed is too-cute-for-words and Noah is simply over the moon about his new nighttime digs. Even when I try to get him to slumber with me for nap time--so that he'll nap longer, thus allowing his weary preggo mama to get some extra shuteye--he insists on snoozing solo in his room, in his own bed. So, just like that, with no fuss, grumbles or bribes, after 2 years and 3 months, our bed now houses just two warm souls through the night--at least for another 2 months or so until the next and youngest tenant moves on in.

This past week was perhaps, however, the chilliest yet. I came down with the flu--my first time catching the flu or being this ill since I was a young child. I never get sick. And Noah, he had yet to have even a full blown cold until this past week. We both miserably muddled through the week. As thawed ground became snow covered once again, I slept through 4 straight days with fevers and chills and sweats and aches and pains and coughs and drippy nose and a searing throat. Dean had to take the afternoons off after he had finished teaching classes each day to come home and watch Noah who was on the upswing regarding his illness, but still needy nonetheless. It's only today, day 8 of this affliction affair, that I am beginning to feel better. Though I am still filling hankies and cringe with every swallow, I am confident that this big pregnant body of mine will evict these germs, hopefully completely, in the coming days.

At any rate, so sorry for the prolonged absence from my dear milieu. This weary mama is hoping that a thaw is upon us for both the inside and outside our weary home of convalescence. We're so, oh so ready, for spring.

The Handmade Home.

2011-03-04T21:54:00.001-08:00

Life has been especially busy this past week--but for all of the right reasons. The craft bug had apparently bitten as I found myself using a lot of my down time keeping my hands in full-on making mode.

With my new modest crafting table set up in a cozy corner of the family room and my sewing machine fresh from a much needed tune-up, I found myself inspired to take on several projects at once. I am still very new to sewing and even newer to knitting, so my projects and the finished products can, at best, only be deemed humble attempts with great aspirations. Nevertheless, Noah now has a new fuzzy gray mouse (a craft begun at our Waldorf mom & tot weekly program) for imaginative play to add to his handmade toy collection, our stairwell dons a new curtain (to help prevent the next door neighbors from seeing directly into our upstairs bathroom)--purposefully (I hope that is apparent?) made a little short to still allow in a little bit of sunshine--green linen dishrags, and the beginnings of what will be a doll for Noah (for both imaginative play and in hopes of easing the transition when the new baby arrives--he can have a baby to call all his own).

In the true spirit of handmade craftiness, I began attending a knitting circle this week. It's two-toddler free hours with a gang of old ladies clucking in British accents and a stay-at-home Japanese Daddy friend that recently joined the mommy group I formed here, "The Green Moms of London". Included is a very large and enthusiastic black lab named Huxley and a fluffy unnamed lap cat who is surprisingly immune to all of the yarn flying about the parlor. I think that from the outside we must make for an awfully motley crew. But I have to honestly admit that several hours twice a month of focused and self-indulged anything utilizing my poor orphaned brain sans interruptions and tantrums is so worth it--and the muffins and tea aren't too bad either. Plus, in just 3 months or less, I'll have another human being needing every loving second of my attention and breasts. So, I realize that I better enjoy this taste of freedom while it lasts. And, hell, what else are you supposed to do in this blasted snowy small town?!

All in all, I truly enjoy the process of using my hands to create as much as I enjoy the satisfaction that comes from finishing and using what I've made. One day I'd like to have a truly handmade home--one in which nearly everything has been thoughtfully crafted by me for the use of those I love. But for this week, the dishrags, the mouse, the curtain, and partially made dolly will have to do.

As an aside: For any knitting (as well as crochet, embroidery, paper crafts, felting, sewing, etc.) lovers out there, here is an absolutely beautifully inspiring website based out of SoHo, New York (they own a yarn shop there), that I have longingly drooled over for at least a year now. It is only recently that I may actually be able to try and craft some of the simply magical creations pictured and patterned there: www.purlbee.com. I could comb through their archives for days . . . enjoy!

Daddy Dean Makes His Canadian Debut--Press Release On His New Gig Hits Music Mag Stands Next Week!

2011-02-25T18:48:00.000-08:00

Why we moved to Canada--for those who missed the posts back in the fall or for just missed the recent international moving boat all together--in a nutshell, we found out we were preggo with numero dos and the 10 years of 60 hour work weeks for Papa Bear suddenly grew from unmanageable to plain and simply unthinkable. Woos from Dean's alma mater in London, Ontario, OIART (The Ontario Institute of Audio Recording Technology), drew us out of life in the Los Angeles fast lane and into a suburban 9-5 snowy Canadian adventure.

OIART has officially announced his arrival and I am so proud to follow suit. The press release will hit music mag stands next week. The article was kind of fun for me to read . . . following the last ten years of our lives as tracked via Dean's career through another person's lens.

The Press Release can be found here: http://www.oiart.org/industry/spotlight/dean-nelson/.

Congrats, Papa. We are so proud!

Beautiful Things: Wordless Wednesday Edition.

2011-02-20T19:30:00.001-08:00

music man in the making.

homesteading.

All In A Good Weekend's Play: The Snowsnake & Winter Fest Edition.

2011-02-20T16:54:00.000-08:00

This weekend is a three-day weekend here in Canada due to the celebration of "Family Day" on Monday. With Dean's new schedule, everyday feels family day for us lately--but heck, we'll take it anyway without complaint. Saturday was spent doing much needed house chores and market shopping for the week and tomorrow we have both brunch and lunch plans. So, today was our day to frolic and play--and that we surely did--in true Canada-style.

The Museum of Ontario Archeology was having its Annual Snowsnake and Winter Fest on the site of an Iroquoian settlement dating back to the 16th century A.D. Fun to be had by all included snowsnake competitions (throwing a carved stick down a small snow luge and seeing whose goes the furthest), dog sled riding (see the below poorly recorded video of our little stone-faced rider), snow shoeing and authentically prepared Iroquois bread snacking.

Now on to more fun and games tomorrow. In the meantime, happy "Family Day" to all!

Jour D'amour Heureux.

2011-02-14T11:48:00.000-08:00

My littlest Valentine is snug in the oven, my toddling Valentine is blanketed in for a love-day nap, and my tummy is full of freshly made Valentine shortbread made at our Valentine playdate this morning. My bearded Valentine will be home this evening with take-out fingerling potato pizza and caesar salads with freshly baked croutons and we won't have any Valentine cooking or Valentine dishes to do.

This day of love is lovely indeed.

I hope that your Valentine's Day is shaping up to be that way too.

Happy Valentine's Day.

xoxo

P.S. Thanks to my Los Angeles Valentine, Asami, for the cutest little red crocheted heart that has been warming my heart all day long.

Finding Home Beneath The Snow.

2011-02-09T22:03:00.000-08:00

Noah, at home, in his new home.

Our new life here in Canada is just that, new--in so many ways more than just the weather. Sure the adjustment from 70 and sunny nearly every single day to downright bone chilling and snowy has not come without its challenges. But if our move to our new northern homestead was just limited to changes in the weather, I suppose it would have been less life altering. But, of course, nothing can be that simple or clear cut for the Surette-Nelson clan.

Dean, Beck & Cassidy.

This move has meant many changes on many fronts. Not only has Dean swapped soireeing with Malibu-side music greats as work (if you want to call it that--see above picture with your doubts) for the nobler and more humble profession of molding the minds of young engineers/mixers/producers-to-be in Canada, but he also has an entirely re-envisioned set of work hours. And by new, I don't mean subtly altered--I mean exchanging a 12-14 hour, 6-day a week workload to a 9:30ish until 5:00ish, 5-day a week light load. This means lots more of Daddy for Noey Finn and I.

With all this fresh and foreign "help time" that I am finding myself with, I have been cooking up a virtual storm. Now, cooking creative and massively complicated decadent meals are no longer saved until the sparse weekend hours. I have been meal planning (see my meal planning post on my other blog, Feeding Little Foodies, to find out what the heck I am talking about) my way into the most tantalizing series of nightly dishes--Lamb Tagine, Yellow Split Pea Soup With Yam & Cumin, Lamb Chops Over Garbanzo and Tomato Salad, Roasted Salmon with Roasted Fennel and Heirloom Tomatoes, etc. etc. In addition, I have a regular weekly pre-natal yoga escapes and even have time to push back my cuticles from time to time.

And, Dean. Ol' dear hubby has been soaking up the extra Noey hours with bread--playing and singing and dancing with the wee lad until dinner, after dinner, into the bathtub and off into bed. And, in between all of that, he's managing to finally catch up with all of the guitar and piano practice that just wasn't able to find its way into our previous time-strapped chaos.

We have several vacations planned, free midwife and home birth care, a two-story home--not an apartment or guesthouse--a huge yard, a room for Noey Finn and baby numero dos, plans to get a pup . . . and time--time to read, time to talk, time to play, time to watch movies, time to paint, time to be inspired, time to learn, time to tinker, time to think, time to just be, together, as a family.

A lazy day last summer on Leo Carrillo Beach, Malibu.

"Giddy'up Mama" I think he must be saying.
"Let's get thee to Canada and leave this all this beachy business behind."

So, in summary, can I say that we--I--miss California--Malibu--dearly . . . oh, ever so dearly? Yes, yes we can with utmost certainty. But can we also admit that all of the anticipated reasons for moving are coming to fruition slowly but surely as we dig our brains from beneath the permafrost? Yes, yes we can. Perhaps not yet with utmost certainty, but with certainty nevertheless.

Paul Bunyan and his snow shovel.

All In A Good Weekend's Play: The First London Edition.

2011-02-09T21:20:00.000-08:00

Visiting Sunnivue Bio-Dynamic Farm just outside of London this past weekend
(6.5 months pregnant).

Noah Finn with costume hatbox finds and new friends.

His Royal Highness.

2011-02-07T20:18:00.000-08:00

Who would have ever thought that "throning" the the king of challenges would ever have been so easy? I didn't. Noah Finn has been a beautiful blessing in so many ways--but there are bear essential aspects of rearing him that have not always been. Sleeping--oh my god, sleep--for example--as any of my earlier followers know--has never come easy for my fellow of the nursing night. He never slept through a single moondance until 21 months old, for example. So then, it was only natural for me to prepare for the worst when it came to potty training and weaning from the breast.

Though he's currently in the throws of the "temperamental two's", having just turned two in late December--tears, tantrums, testing and all--he potty trained himself at 18 months and very voluntarily and gently weaned at 21 months.

We're not all in the diaper clear for nap and bedtimes--perhaps if we hadn't moved or had the incredibly topsy turvy prior five months to contend beforehand with we could have supported that effort a little more. But nevertheless, we're 100% diaper-free during the day.

It's amazing, simply amazing what those little racing minds and bodies can master all on their very own. Sometimes even better so without our meddling or hampering their attempts.

Now, as far as how learning to read the toy catalog while working out yesterday's dinner came about . . . I am sure Daddy had nothing to do with that.

Grumps, Grunts and Grief: The Musings Of A Snow-Sullen Mama.

2011-02-01T11:18:00.000-08:00

My good friend, Jessica, with Noah on her first visit to see us in our new Canadian home.

The very first thing out of most people's mouths, both Canadian and American, when they learn that we have just moved from Los Angeles to London is, "So, how do you like all of the snow?".

The fact of the matter is that the snow--and the bitter, freezing, perpetual cold--is not so bad. As long as my iGoogle page doesn't inform me of the devastating fact that the high in London last week was 4F and a perfectly sunny 74F in Los Angeles again, then I am just fine. No, the problem isn't the snow or cold at all--it's all of things that come with it--literally--it's the layers, the preparation for going outdoors, it's a toddler who isn't crazy about the snow (much less walking on his own in it), it's a pregnant mama with a big bulky belly whose winter shoes for the last several years have consisted of nothing more than an old pair of broken-in Tom's.

It's plain and simply all of the inconveniences that come with the snow and cold that we have yet to appreciate. It's remembering, finding and putting on the following e v e r y t i m e you want to go a n y w h e r e: thermals, two pair of socks, sweater, pants, snow pants, jacket, gloves, mittens, hat, scarf and snow boots. Multiply this by two, or three if Daddy is along for the ride, and you have a real fiasco at trying to get out of the door. Combine this with a toddler who never wants to walk anywhere in the snow, bags filled with emergency clothing supplies, an ice covered driveway, a huge pregnant belly, a car that needs substantial thawing and scraping, and a balking toddler that somehow needs to be strapped into a car seat whose straps barely accommodate artic layering. Did I mention that this was protocol procedure for each and every driveway departure? Makes you simply want to hibernate, eh?

Take a close look--see the expression on Noah's face in the picture above? That grimace--that smug and disparagingly scathing scowl--as he wonders why the hell he's standing on a sheet of ice while clothed in enough layers to outfit an entire African Village? Yeah, Noah's not such a fan of the snow and cold and I don't blame him. How can I? He's a SoCal boy whose last vivid memories of our past home was of a warm beachy Malibu paradise where he never had to clothe a single sand-caked cheek or little toe.

It will take some getting used to, I suppose. And maybe by the time this part of our "new home acclimation" is taking place it will be time for the big thaw. But then again, though next winter I won't have a big belly to manage around, I will have yet another set of multi-pieced snow gear. So, brace yourself. You may be seeing a very similar post come this time next year--with less jest and even more exasperated whine.

Happy February 1st!

Beautiful Things: Wordless Wednesday Edition.

2011-01-25T22:28:00.000-08:00

Settling in.

Geeze Louise, Our Ship Has Finally Landed.

2011-01-11T11:31:00.000-08:00

The kid's playroom in the making.

Yes, we arrived in the wee hours of December the 12th--so, why are you just now "landing" and why for heaven's sake are you just now posting about it all nearly a month later, you're asking? Well my dear family, friends and followers, the road to reach today, January 11, 2011, has been not without foes, follies and flabbergasts.

You see, today is the second day, and only the second day, that I feel as if my feet are on somewhat of a steady and solid earth. The minutes and hours, only as of late, are beginning to shape themselves into somewhat of a noticeable rhythm. Our incredibly delayed and somewhat dangerous flight from Los Angeles to Detroit to London, Ontario, has been somewhat of a mirror of the difficulty that we have also had "landing" here in our new town since our arrival. If we had internet during those early days and weeks, you would have caught every last slight detail chronicling the aches and pains of transition--living in a completely empty house surrounded by feet and feet of snow for 13 days--shaky and unreliable cell service as the only means of communication until last Saturday when our internet was finally connected--the inability to get forms of Canadian identification, thus internet service, thus bank accounts--the anti-laundering laws that forbid transferring funds from U.S. to Canadian accounts, or vice versa, (and the 21-day international check holds) that sent us scrambling to Port Huron, Michigan twice (once on New Years Eve) after being nearly crippled by the brain task it took to figure out how to meet all of our bi-national obligations between trips--the holidays that put a speedy stop to all of these "official" needs until the moments of merry glee finally dissipated into businesses' door signs finally reading "open"--the shock to learn that my husband's company had arranged for our car to be transported by a company that drove it, instead of freighted it, from Los Angeles to Canada--the incompetent gorillas that began unloading our house belongings (after Dean had to drive all the way to Toronto on December 22nd to clear it through customs) off of the truck at 6 p.m. on December 23rd leaving us with a fallen powerline in the driveway, a house full of boxes incorrectly placed, many belongings broken and bent, and a floor tracked with melted ice, snow and rock salt to tackle on Christmas Eve--the flat tire on New Years Eve--the flooded basement due to rapid thawing two days after Christmas. I could go on. But I won't.

Needless to say, last week was Dean's first week at his new job and coincidentally was the first week that we were finally able to figure out how to survive in our new world. And this week, as a result, is beginning to shape into a one where we are finally able to begin to enjoy this new world. We have internet, alas. We have a few favorite grocery shopping spots pinned down. We hosted friends for brunch last Saturday. Dean gets off at 5:00 p.m. e v e r y n i g h t (we are still trying to figure out what exactly that means and how to best manage all of this newly founded family time). We finally have finished painting the downstairs. Noah and I enrolled and attended our first Waldorf Mommy & Tot class today. We have a playdate scheduled in the neighborhood tomorrow and several more lined up for this week.

We are adjusting to the $10 gallons of organic milk (sold in 1-liter plastic bags), $5 gallons of gas (sold by the liter too, of course) and the 13% sales tax. There's just not much we can do about that, eh? And, for now, no more schlepping my pregnant belly in 20 layers and my unwilling toddler, in as many or more, around in the snowy splendor to sit in bank or federal building waiting lobbies. No more driving the 150 kilometers to miserable and oh so very dismal Port Huron, Michigan to visit the very nice ladies at Bank of America and waitstaff at Red Lobster (yes, we really did hit rock bottom, folks--there's just simply nowhere else to eat there, sigh.).

We are slating a new beginning that takes us back to something resembling our days pre-Milagro Ranch in Malibu. Back to Burnside Avenue in the great city of Los Angeles when Noey and I enjoyed our days together as a pair intertwined in a natural rhythm surrounded by friends, fun and all of the magical beauties that surround childhood. And back to the time when I was able to be the mommy who was lucky enough to experience it all undistracted . . . for the first time in 6 months. That is, until late May, however, when Junior(ette) arrives and throws our new world into yet another and a completely different kind of spinning whirly-twirl.

Nevertheless, hip hip hooray for lulls in the fast times of familyhood--no matter how fleeting or temporary they may be.

Noah at work with Daddy.

THE END, Los Angeles: Uprooted and Unplugged At Last.

2010-12-12T01:14:00.000-08:00

My eyes are barely open, my fingers nearly unable to press the weight of the keys. It's a little after 1 a.m. the day of departure and we are now going to try and catch some rest before our long journey north--toting 1 toddler, 2 cats and 1 pregnant belly--early tomorrow morning.

I had so many things to say today, so many laments about leaving sunshiny California--especially on a day where the sun set in brushes of vibrant color over the park we found ourselves playing at with Noah in T-shirts and flip flops. I have found that this day has passed with lightening speed and has left little time for writing reflection despite the occasional tears.

I won't be back up and blogging (or doing anything on a computer, for that matter) until our car arrives at our new home as our desktop computer is going to be shipped in the trunk of our car--we are opposed for both philosophical and health reasons to laptops--which is departing L.A. a day after us.

For now, I am off to a short albeit sweet slumber land session and will hopefully connect again on the great world wide web in six-ish days or so. We will have cell service, however, and our California cell numbers will remain active until we establish new service in London in a few weeks.

In the meantime, wish us luck during our first week at a very empty house in our new very snowy, frigid and foreign new home.

Good bye, Los Angeles. You and everyone that we know and love who lives under your sun will be ever so sorely missed. Good bye, and thank you for an unforgettable decade.

Gearing Up And Ready To (For) Go (Snow)!

2010-12-07T14:28:00.001-08:00

The day of departure is closing in upon us like a vice, a noose, a looming dooming day for mayhem and mania. "Hmmm...sounding a wee bit gloomy about this move," you're thinking? Well, perhaps I am. But it seems as if we have been planning for this great diaspora for a really long time.

In real people time, I guess it's only been a few months and strategizing an international move for a family in a few months would seem not only normal protocol, but even necessary for such a grand feat. So it is perhaps because of our living situation that these last few months have seemed so achingly long and d r a w n out--because in Surette-Nelson time it has felt like ages. Ages since we decided to move. Ages since we applied for the Visa. Ages since we found our cozy little soon-to-be new home. Ages since we began the process for shipping our stuff, our car, our cats and us. Ages, just ages, since all of this first began.

So, today with only T minus 5 days until departure, I am feeling overwhelmed by all of the both little and big things that still need to get done before our Delta flight leaves the dusty earth that is Southern California this Sunday. While at the same time I am overcome with feelings of giddiness and euphoria at our departure's mere closness in proximity as it has never been so far within reach.

The strife, concern and bitter distaste that I have for the current discrepancy in weather conditions between our now and future homestead--currently 21 degrees and snowing in London, Ontario versus a sunny 74 degrees here in Los Angeles--will have to be the whines and complaints of another post. The fact that the freight company is meeting us in Malibu at the crack of dawn tomorrow to pick up our stuff from storage that we still need to box is all I can handle at the current moment.

And, in the meantime, Noah Finn and I will continue to pass the time in between the time we are out flying around town in erranding-madness to try on and model our new snugly family of snow boots.

Up In The Air.

2010-12-01T13:25:00.000-08:00

I have always been inpatient, antsy, unsettled even, anytime the status of major life events are up in the air. So, the idea that a major move is lurking somewhere out there in our immediate, and then not so immediate, future is nearly driving me insane.

It seems that our move status changes by the minute while our time spent waiting in between these changes drags on at a snail's pace. A major contradiction, I know, but so goes it in limbo land.

The draft for a post that I had written yesterday had to be scrapped as we received visa approval this morning--which changes so much while at the same time so very little. Now that we have the visa, our car can be picked up in Los Angeles and shipped. Our stuff, once it reaches Canada, can be claimed and continue it's voyage to our home in London. What it doesn't change is perhaps the most important part--when we can finally head to our new home. While our car will only take six days to ship, despite options of extra fees and 48 hour pick ups, the things that will eventually fill our new home will not ship out of Los Angeles until next week with an estimated arrival date of 14-21 days. This means that our arrival to our home anytime around when we were planning to arrive. . . um . . . this weekend!? . . . would be to a very, very empty house surrounded by plumes of newly fallen snow. Throw into the equation one pregnant Mama, a tireless toddler, two terrified cats, a tired Papa and no pots, toys, towels, beds or blankets, and you have a real d-i-s-a-s-t-e-r.

This time I can't blame Beck for finagling Dean into staying a bit longer to finish projects at work, nope, this is due to circumstances beyond our control--beyond the reach of a balking and cross pregnant wife.

So, what to do? We've mulled around many an idea but for one reason or another have determined that the most feasible of those means we hold out in the City of Angels yet another week. The 12th is our new date of departure. We can only hope that the kindness of the friends we are staying. . . and waiting with . . . doesn't run out.

I just somehow can't help but think that all of this (the expense, the hassle, the mental toll) would be worth it if we were moving to say . . . Spain, France, Tibet, Estonia . . . but, Canada, really? And, two hours or so north of the U.S. border no less. That really stings this mama's gaping international moving wound.

Illustration credit: Phil Wrigglesworth.

All In A Good Day's Play: The Disneyland Edition.

2010-11-24T00:07:00.000-08:00

We visited Disneyland last Thursday with the mamas and babies from our Pasadena commune. One of the mamas used to work for Disney in her pre-baby days and scored us free tickets. I quickly jumped aboard the Disney train thinking it could be the last time for a long time that we visit the land of magic.

We conquered only a few rides--"It's A Small Word", "Dumbo's Flight", "Peter Pan's Adventure" and the carousel, of course. We stayed until close to experience the Christmas decorations, fireworks and snowfall in true twinkling-eyed style. By the time all was said and done, we had snacked, we had gazed, we had oohed and awed, we had met characters with huge hugs and the days end with dreary, weary eyes.

I unfortunately didn't get many great shots because we only had a wee hour or so of daylight left in Mr. Sunshine before he settled down for the night. And one hour or so at Disneyland with three toddlers and huge crowds, doesn't leave much time or available hands for photography.

API Article: "Numero Dos: Sharing The Love"

2010-11-19T17:39:00.000-08:00

Another one of my articles appears today on API Speaks, the Attachment Parenting International blog. The title is "Numero Dos: Sharing The Love" and you can find it on API Speaks here and on my blog here.

Enjoy!

Malibu, I'm Going To Miss You Old Buddy, Old Pal.

2010-11-17T21:00:00.000-08:00

So it may come as no surprise to most that we are going to miss living in Malibu--sorely, deeply, longingly, miss it. Just finding these "lost" pictures this evening taken from just before that doomed summer vacation makes my heart pang with loss, with mourning, with sadness, for what will be missed.

What will be thought of most often is probably not what you are imagining though. Malibu is a truly special place. But as I have mentioned here before, envisioning it's sand-crusted shores as a beach-side Beverly Hills is way off mark. Yes, there is a small smattering of fake boob, bikini-clad, baked and gold-bangled blondes about here and there. But, in reality, that's not the real Malibu at all.

Located in Los Angeles at the very northern tip of it's county line is an oasis from the smoggy city innards. It's rural, natural and rugged. Dusty ranches perch upon largely undeveloped hillsides. Coyotes, vultures and bobcats comb the brush for easy eating. Cowboys ride their horses down the winding scenic highways to the local country mart--as there are only three grocery stores in town and only two of those are chains. Most locals are salty, have beach-locked strands and tarballs on the bottoms of their feet. The mornings and evenings are always, always cold and dense with fog rolling in off of the Pacific as thick as pea soup. The water is never ever tolerable for entrance without a wetsuit--even during the dead of summer. Dolphin and sea lion spottings are frequent as are starfish and lively colored sea urchin. Dark colored rock formations scatter the beaches creating no shortage of caves and coves for exploring. Shark spottings are occasional and rattlesnake, scorpion, sea rat and tarantula visits come with the turf.

This is Malibu, my friends. And I am going to miss the hell out of it.

Now those of you who are regular readers of Mama Milieu may be rolling your eyes at my sudden change of heart--"forget the pain and remember the pretty, eh?" you are mumbling to yourselves. It's true that we had our fair share of struggles and strife on Milagro Ranch. Malibu and its raw roughness wasn't always batting for our team. I have not forgotten the sleepless and fully-lit nights on 10-inch centipede watch, or the mouse in the house, or the two rattlesnakes on the patio, or the tarantula in the living room, or the scorpion in the sliding glass door. I have not forgotten about the dust and the hard, hard work and the outdoor laundry facilities. I have not forgotten about any of it.

But, I will miss the coos of owls and wild quail and the scampering of cotton-tailed bunnies munching alfalfa down at the horses' haybarn. I will miss the silence and breezes and front row view of the milky-way and all of its sisters and brothers and cousins. I will miss the carsickness brought on by the 5 miles of hairpins and switchbacks to and from the rocky coast. I will miss the breathtaking canyon views in the foggy mornings, the sunlit afternoons and fiery glow at sunset. I will miss the sparkle in Noah's eyes as he experiences the beauty of nature like all of us dream we could again--like a child--for the very first time. I will miss the stillness that results from no neighbors, not even one, for miles and miles. I will miss all of this and I just can't leave without saying so.

* * *
To read all about our adventures in Malibu and at Milagro Ranch, follow this link.

And, for our life in Malibu in pictures, click here.

Numero Dos: Sharing The Love.

2010-11-16T14:04:00.001-08:00

As the date of the big move approaches and we shuffle from one generous friend's abode to another, this pregnancy, the little growing one all snug in my tummy, often seems to take a back seat (not in the back of our Volkswagen, but in the back of a very long bus)--which makes me a little sad. Aside from the slowly, and finally, dissipating constant nausea and fatigue, my little tummy buddy hasn't gotten much air time in any sense of the word over these last 13 weeks.

I can remember the last time I shared my body. It was a little over two years ago. From the day that joyous pink line appeared across the plastic pee stick, little Noah Finn was all that I could think about despite the fact that I was working everyday. I woke up and thought pregnancy, I peed (a lot) and thought pregnancy, I taught and thought pregnancy, I ate (a lot) and thought pregnancy, I slept (very little) and dreamed pregnancy. My growing abdomen was always on my mind.

This time is definitely different. Running after a bouncing, bounding, boisterous toddler while volleying between temporary living situations has certainly captivated the time that I don't spend eating and sleeping. The fact of the matter is that constant urges to snack and slumber aside, I often forget that I'm pregnant.

What does all of this mean? Is it normal? I am betting so. But it certainly does recall those initial pangs of subtle trepidation I first experienced when pregnancy test number two revealed yet again that solid pink line: sharing the love. How does a mama who has experienced everything about mommying--pregnancy, birth, mothering--with one child not feel guilt about sharing such sacredness with another? It feels almost like cheating on the first.

Melodramatic? Perhaps. But, these are real anxieties, that while slowly fading as the months tick away, remain present nonetheless.

So, how does a mommy share the love--that smothering, doting, gooey love that's gushed all over the first with the second and subsequent bundles of joy? Will my little Noah feel shortchanged and left out the decision making process--after all, he had no vote here!? Will he harbor feelings of abandonment and isolation, regress and insist on learning the alphabet Z thru A?

Think I'm being melodramatic, again? Perhaps. But these are tangible fears that I sometimes think about. That is, when I remember I'm pregnant anyway.

London, Ontario, Here We Come.

2010-11-13T08:14:00.000-08:00

Downtown London, Ontario in the fall.

It doesn't have the fancy metropolitan flare of say, moving to London, U.K.--where we were seriously considering taking up residence before Noah Finn was born. My how things change when children come into the picture. Don't get me wrong--we'll always be city slickers--and perhaps even move back to Los Angeles after our great northern adventure peters out, if it does--but there has come a time, now, when we're yearning for a little slower pace and this job offer couldn't have come at a more useful time.

Everything that has occurred since Dean and I moved out to California in 2001, has seemed to happen serendipitously: Dean's initial job offer at a little studio in Burbank, my ditching the Peace Core to join him, our subsequent three homes (with the exception of our most recent Malibu madness), the timing of our wedding, the pregnancy and birth of Noah Finn, the new pregnancy, this new job offer and, now, the move to London. We feel lucky, fortunate even, to have had such a rosy decade here in the City of Angels. It feels strange, unfaithful even, to be considering any other place to call home. Lest we venture on to our next stop in a little less than month. I hope it treats us as well.

Falling Into Fall.

2010-11-06T11:21:00.000-07:00

It feels like we're falling a bit around here--from place to place, from friends to friends, with no home, from summer to fall. Our time spent with Caro and family in Pasadena has been wonderfully refreshing and at times overwhelmingly exhausting in the best of ways. It's not just us here in this Bungalow Heaven abode. Another family and mutual friends who also have a toddler and tons of transition are passing through too--they are transitioning back into L.A. from a stint spent in Oregon and we are transitioning out of L.A. to a cold a wintry Canadian wonderland after 10 toasty years spent pacific-side.

Five adults (one of the Papas is filming in Detriot for several weeks) and three toddlers makes for lots of crazy action--tears and tantrums, spills and screams, running and hopping and colliding and chaos--most of the time--from 6:30 a.m. until around 8:00ish at night. But it's lovely to be among friends and mamas and babies and love, lots of love. While one of the Papas cooks incredibly delectable and wholesome meals, we otherwise eat together, clean together and run after the wild wildebeests together. I've always yearned for the communal camaraderie of group living and it's more fun than I ever had imagined.

As for how we have been passing our time here, well, October passed like a spook in the night. We pumpkin patched and pumpkin carved, we tricked and we treated; we fell into fall. And, geesh, now it's November. With less than a month or so to go before the big move, my belly is progressing into the second trimester much quicker than I'd like it to. It is already time to go shopping for the ever beloved maternity pants. But wherever will I find a snowsuit in my size?

Sea Change.

2010-10-30T10:29:00.000-07:00

A sea change indeed, my faithful friends and followers. The absence has been long and hard and rocky and winding and wily and well, really, really l o n g. It seems that I had hopes of returning with a post and many pictures sometime in late August or early September with recollections of our beach vacation in Emerald Isle, North Carolina, where we frolicked seaside with family and friends. But now, at this time in late October, those warm summer memories seem just that--distant tales of long ago. Since then, our seas have been a'changin.

I try to keep my blog as drama free as possible--I rather spare the minute details of non-baby drama to avoid seeming petty or even boring. But this tale will be told in a shortened yet still somewhat full version, if nothing else than to explain why I have been gone so darn long.

It all began days before we were set to leave for our three week vacation visiting friends and family on the east coast this past August--the first week on the same little island where we were married (our families vacation there together every summer) and the remaining two weeks jumping back and forth between grandparents' houses.

The Sunday before the Thursday we were to set sail, we received an abrupt and very unexpected 30 day notice from the landowner of Milagro Ranch to vacate our home. I will spare these details because I may break into a rant that never fizzles--but long story short...her separation from her husband forced her to sell, she couldn't find a buyer so she leased to people who wanted her out a.s.a.p. This all meant that she needed to find a place for her and her daughter to live until they found another home--and it seems that our cozy little guest house that we had just so stupidly sunk way too much money, time and labor into seemed like just the place.

Dean returned to Malibu from the vacation early to pack and move us into storage while Noah and I remained behind in North Carolina to stay with family while all of the details worked themselves out. In the meantime, Dean stayed with friends in Malibu and went back to work.

Now backtrack a little to before we left for vacation...around the same time we received the e-mail from the landowner, we received an e-mail from the recording school that Dean attended in London, Ontario more than 10 years ago. It was inquiring whether he knew of anyone possibly interested in taking a teaching position that had recently become available at the school. E-mails about salary, benefits, immigration, etc. bounced back and forth for weeks while the job opportunity became more and more of an appealing option for us.

Over the phone, from North Carolina to Los Angeles, Dean and I schemed and plotted and planned. What if? Dean officially expressed interest and after a phone interview with the school's Directors went incredibly well, we decided to accept their offer to fly the whole family to London for 10 days worth of Canadian fun--further interviews, guest lectures, meetings, negotiations, sight seeing, house hunting, and more. So, after spending all of September on separate coasts, Noah and I met Dean in Canada on October 1st.

Now backtrack a little again...to when Dean was living with friends in Malibu and working while Noah and I were grandparent house hopping for all of September. Just days before flying to meet Dean in Canada, a little dip stick in a Durham, North Carolina Target bathroom revealed that we were pregnant--again!

So here we were--exhausted, homeless and nauseously pregnant--in London, Ontario wondering if leaving a job with Beck in Malibu to teach in the snowy neighbor to the north was really what the Dr. ordered. The 10 days passed like a whirlwind as we met people, saw places and determined if this was to be the next stop on our map.

The town was just okay; the people were super. What really sold us was all of the quality of life bonuses. At the end of our stay, we took the job.

Let me explain why. Dean has worked 12 hours a day 6-7 days a week for 10 years--that's right a decade--with a week, or maybe two, or this year the most ever maybe three weeks, of vacation hidden somewhere there in between. Before Noah it was hard, since Noah it is impossibly exhausting and plain and simply an unacceptable pace to keep with a growing family. Sure he's worked with and for the best of the best in the music industry, and the money is okay--but it's just that, okay. It's not living well in Los Angeles, or Malibu for that matter, on one salary, well. It's not, own a house, travel several times a year, send your kid to private school because the public ones are not an option, hire a nanny because Dad is never home and a second kid is coming kind of well.

This new job? The salary is great, the bonuses are even better...but the hours, they are still hard to swallow. Dad will be home for dinner for the first time in a decade--every night. Dean will work 9:00-5:00--WAIT--what's THAT?! Add on to that: 5 weeks of paid vacation, incredible public and private healthcare coverage with no out-of-our-pocket cost (I have already spoken with the midwife who will deliver our next baby at home in the water), affordable housing and coverage of all relocation and immigration/visa costs. How could we say no?!

After we signed on the dotted line, we returned to Los Angeles on October 10th homeless while we wait for immigration to clear and Dean to finish pending projects with Beck. We stayed with friends in Malibu for one week and are now staying with yet more friends (three families in one house--that's another post all together) in Pasadena...we just call it our cozy little commune. We will remain here until November the 13th when we will then move yet again back to our old neighborhood in Los Angeles with yet more friends. We will be house-sitting while they are in Japan.

If all goes well with immigration--and we should know by mid-November--we will move to London, Onatrio, Canada on December 1st. We are currently looking for a place to call home there for when we, and our stuff, arrives.

In the meantime it's a crazy, whirly twirly topsy turvy kind of purgatory that we are existing in. I am still absorbing it--especially the part about moving to a really cold place. There will be snow there when we arrive--lots and lots of it. How will a Los Angeles loving family from Southern California with no winter clothes and another baby on the way ever cope? That story has yet to be written.

"Yuv Ooo" And Other Heart Melts.

2010-08-17T21:34:00.000-07:00

So my dear friends, have no fear, the mysterious visitor was not so mysterious. Just a sweet friend with a trigger happy bookmark toolbar--best case scenario for this concerned mama who can now venture on to other happenings. Relief.

On to other news--Noah uttered his first "I love you" today which sounded a whole lot more like "yuv oooooo". I turned immediately to mushy gooey putty and would have found a real life unicorn dressed in a clown's costume if that's what he had asked for at that very moment. Even as he belted it out over and over again throughout the day it never lost its effect--I swooned each and every time.

Aside from love-speak, things are a little wacky about the household. We are preparing to leave for a 3 week voyage back east to visit with friends and family on a Thursday night redeye--just two nights from tonight and the packing hasn't even begun. The redeye booking was an attempt to take advantage of both a non-stop, thus shorter, flight, as well as, nighttime hours--we are crossing our fingers that the darkness will keep our wee tot sleeping the duration of the flight. If not, we're screwed. How do you explain the strange circumstances that render you relatively chair bound for hours on end to a 1.5 year old? You don't. You just buckle up and hope for the best.

I am not quite sure when I will post again. The first of the three weeks will be spent at the beach and the other two between the homes of parents and grandparents. I will do my best to post as soon as possible--hopefully not long after the Atlantic sun has browned our skin and the east coast tide has warmed our bones.

We need the rest and relaxation. It's been a thrilling and also exhausting last few months and it seems that recent developments on several fronts might be throwing more curve balls our way. But more on that later. For now we shall sign off with a few pictures from our morning on the ranch and hopefully will return within a week or so with news and photographic delights from the right coast (right as in directionally right, that is--not right as in the opposite of wrong--just in case any east coasters were getting big-headed...)

Dear Mysterious Visitor.

2010-08-14T12:54:00.000-07:00

Dear Frequent Visitor from Apex, NC,

I notice that you really love my blog and was hoping that you might drop a line or two so that I know who you are!

You can say "hi" by sending over an e-mail to jonisurettenelson@gmail.com or commenting quickly on any post!

Thank you so much for helping me to ensure that my blog is kept friendly and safe.

Warmest Regards,
Mama Joni

All In A Good Day's Play: The Camera Has Returned Edition.

2010-08-10T21:57:00.000-07:00

The Rocking Moose.

Underwood Farms.

Nicholas Canyon County Beach.

Playtime With Papa.

Lil' Ranchers Round Up at The Leonis Adobe.

The First Haircut.

Nicholas Canyon County Beach.

To view more photos from our old restored friend, click here.

All In A Good Day's Play: Going Ape-y At The Zoo Edition.

2010-08-06T12:16:00.000-07:00

We're back in business and it just so happened that the first photos taken with our restored shuttered friend was at the L.A. Zoo yesterday.

While Noah enjoyed the animals, he liked the playground water fountain that had been put out of commission and covered with a piece of metal--which made drumming on it tons of fun--and the mister that cooled off the hot valley afternoon a whole lot more.

Enjoy and happy, happy weekend.

I've Missed You, My Dear Shuttered Friend.

2010-08-04T22:20:00.000-07:00

Ah, the sweet sensation of anticipation. Our repaired camera has been delivered by Fed Ex and is sitting at the gate about a half mile down the drive. Since the sun has set and this ranch girl doesn't traverse into the wild after the stars have risen, I will have to wait yet another excruciating hour for Dean to come home until I hold her in my paws.

Tomorrow is the Zoo and Friday, the beach and Saturday, a pool BBQ and Sunday, a visit from friends and Monday, produce picking at the farm and Tuesday, the Leonis Adobe and Wednesday, the park and Thursday, a pool playdate and Friday, back to the beach and Saturday, next Saturday, maybe it will finally get a rest. While I cannot believe that our calendar is booked for nine days straight with no lull, I am even more impressed at the incredible photographic opportunities that await. Not to mention food photography for Feeding Little Foodies.

The month of struggling to drill moments into my fading, failing memory is now over. I can simply click a button and allow the shutter and lens to work their magic.

This is the last picture-less post. Ever. I hope.

Rape Is Never Funny . . .

2010-08-03T00:19:00.000-07:00

. . . except when Antoine Dodson is involved. There are not many things that get me rolling on the floor past midnight after a long day of beach playdates and dinner guests. But when Dean came home from work tonight to show me what he had been filling his work hours watching, I couldn't help but want to share it with all of you. It's possible that I am desperately behind (I usually am)--maybe many of you have already seen it. If you haven't you're in for a real treat. If you have, surely it can tickle another laugh out of you, no?

Meet, Antoine Dodson--the best. brother. ever. Enjoy.

Giving It Another Go.

2010-07-29T01:42:00.000-07:00

So the initial shock of the tarantula sighting has dulled and faded. Since then, there have been no other critters larger than a quarter spotted for over a week now. This is progress, folks.

We have decided to give Milagro Ranch another go.

You see, our morning romp in the valley last week viewing dark, dreary and drab pre-fabs was depressing to say the least. These over priced shoe boxes left much to be desired--the first was a tiny guest house sans stove (what? a family of foodies with no roasting, broiling, or baking capabilities--si par impossible!) and the second was carpeted, small, dark and downright depressing. Even if there were such things as apartments--or affordable housing--in Malibu, I still don't think we'd take the apartment leap. Unless we were able to find the exquisite 1920's French Normandy-esque chateau that we had in the city, we just can't bring ourselves to inhabit an apartment building--even if in Malibu--ever. Which brings us to our current debacle--our wild and wily existence in an eclectic guest house on a 20 acre horse ranch.

It's beautiful--it's so breathtakingly beautiful and peaceful and recharging and inspiring and natural and Noah is over the moon for the place. It's a crazy little ranch--it's so very different than anywhere that we have ever lived before. It's creaky and cranky and expensive and really inconvenient (for example, we have to have special propane deliveries every other month because there are no gas lines run this far out and not to mention the incredibly winding, narrow and vulture-lined roads to get down the mountain to semi-civilization). And while half of the time those are all of the reasons that we were ready to throw in the beach towel last week, the other half of the time it's all part of its charm, its splendor, its appeal, its unmistakable character.

Reminding myself--ourselves--that it's an adventure, helps. Reminding ourselves that it's temporary, helps. Standing beneath the pepper trees as the late afternoon sun trickles through the wispy leaves in tiny drops on Noah's hand as he feeds the horses, helps. Bunny watching from the hammock with my morning coffee, helps. Watching our vegetable and herb garden (even if through galvanized steel meshing) finally take root and begin to flourish and anticipating its harvest, helps. Listening to Noah mimic the songs of the quail and road runner in his sleep, helps. Spending each and every day as we please on the sandy shores of the Pacific watching dolphins and seals frolic and play, helps.

This is a good thing. It's a great thing. It's a character building, make hair grow on your teeth kind of thing. It's a make your marriage stronger while learning all of the nitty gritty, raw, unedited facets of nature while your wee tot experiences life naked and barefoot beneath citrus trees kind of place. It's the kind of place we call home.

So, really. Really? Were we really going to let rattlesnakes, rats, scorpions, centipedes, mice and tarantulas drive us away from ol' purple haze ranch? We don't scare that easily.

But, then, ask me about it all again tomorrow.

Second Thoughts: Milagro Ranch, You're So Mean.

2010-07-20T21:30:00.000-07:00

(At the Long Beach Aquarium with my mommy group)

Life looks peachy, right? Time spent away from home has been peachy. Noah and I have been making tons of new mama and baby friends in our new hood thanks to the mommy group that I started here called the "Malibu Mamas". Since I last wrote, we have been flipping our fins at swim lessons, tank-gazing at the Aquarium of the Pacific and produce picking and farm animal petting at a local family pick-your-own. With Daddy, we have been attending storytime on the Bluffs and two weekend concerts (one was apparently with an all-star in the family indie music scene--I didn't know that there was a "family indie music scene"--go figure).

But at home, well, home is another story all together. Our efforts at varmint proofing our garden have been in vain. It turns out that it was squirrels, not rabbits, decimating every speck of green above our $100 worth of organic dirt (and free horse manure). We've spent well over $500 now on this garden bed from hell and well, while we are not ones to give in and give up easily, we're ready to throw in the shovel. The garden, you see, is very telling of our time here on Milagro Ranch here so far. We've sunk dollars and time into making it a home but nature just won't allow us to settle in. Despite our sage smudging ceremony, performed by Chieftain Dean on Saturday, we found a tarantula upon waking Sunday morning. Luckily, the cats got to it before it found its way to us as vulnerable and easy prey in our slumber.

Perhaps Dean and I had far too romantic notions about living remotely, rurally, down a dirt road in a desert canyon, with rattlesnakes, scorpions, rats, centipedes and now our newest dear friend, tarantula, to fight over territory with. Aside from the creepy critters, everything has been and continues to be a chore. From driving the garbage and recycling down the mile long dirt road to keeping the brick patio surrounded by dirt swept clean to washing clothes in outdoor machines to rat and bug roofing to waiting for the septic to be fixed to sleeping with the lights on to ensuring the pipes that empty all of our used water (except for the toilet, of course) out onto the property are kept clear of weeds and animals to to to . . . it all sounds petty, I know. But this is only the half of it. When it's all piled up on the dark purple carpet thrown in there with our recent kitchen ant infestation, it just amounts to being too much for this mama and family to handle. We spend much of our time working, working to keep things status quo here at the Ranch at the sacrifice of real, enjoyable, relaxing moments together as a family. Really, Dean works 60 hours a week every single week--is cleaning rat poop from the brick ledge and walking the dead rat that we trapped under the car the prior night out to the field to dump its lifeless body really worth it?

We are asking ourselves that very question. Today, tonight, now. We are seriously throwing around the idea of moving. Yes, I know it's crazy. But what's more crazy? Waking up with a tarantula at your toes or admitting to yourself that the suburbs aren't so bad after all. Seriously, I, who would never even look twice at an apartment complex without losing my lunch is currently finding the convenience and safety of a gated complex with a pool and fitness center a droolingly appealing option. I know, I know--the desperation is so thick you can cut it with a knife.

We have been humbled by Milagro Ranch--we are no longer the city snobs we once were. And we were before Noah, I admit it. But we have a year or less before Beck finishes working on his latest album and Dean is able to move on. And then we can move on--away from L.A. after 10 years and hopefully north--into the comfortable embrace of a cozy craftsman in green, clean, Portland. What to do until then is the question that will keep me up tonight--that and my incurable phobia of all things that move in the night.

We have two appointments tomorrow to look at places just over the hill from here--the valley, yes, the valley. We'll still be only 16 miles from Malibu--the beach--the bugs--but 100 leaps closer to keeping our sanity. Who knows, maybe we'll tour some drab, mini-blinded, generic box and go running back to the ranch faster than a vulture can sniff out roadkill.

Panic Mode.

2010-07-13T22:49:00.000-07:00

(Taken by friend, Rebecca, with her camera yesterday at Topanga Beach)

I am still without a camera. I am now in full-on panic mode. My inability to capture every wince and grin and drool and stumble and smirk made by Noah over the last two weeks has truly tortured me. No camera means that we are without pictures and without a video camera and I swear that my little tot toddles even cuter when he knows that there is no chance it will all be documented for future tortured family screenings. Yes, we have a film camera and yes, we have a video camera, but by golly our Canon was both in one small portable great picture taking package.

Anywho, we have been busy. Super busy. This ranch living leaves no time for resting on one's laurels. There's always something to do, plant, fix, hang, paint and nail. The raised garden bed we planted two weekends ago was flourishing until the recent rabbit rampages--tomatoes, squash, watermelon, cucumbers-all ravaged. I should have known that we'd have to wage war against our floppy-eared foe. Every and any thing that I planted in pots after we first moved in was nibbled to nothing more than nubs over night. Even stuff they shouldn't like--peppermint, succulents, lily of the nile, Mexican primrose and lavender, salvia--all native SoCal vegetation that in most cases is already growing on the property. But, yet they still dine on mine. So, this garden business I knew was going to require a diligent and constant effort to dissuade these little cottontails from snacking on our produce. I headed out to our local hardware store after our swim lesson today and picked up some hopeful deterrents--I'll have to report back on their effectiveness.

Other than that, the days have passed with trips to the Oxnard DMV to renew my license that expired back in April (oops!), unsuccessfully trying to treat my sister to a picnic and cupcake for her 22nd birthday (excess traffic and a cranky car-bound toddler thwarted my efforts), attending Beck's 40th birthday bash and hiring our first real-live non family or friend sitter for Noah. All went well.

This week has been heating up and chasing away the gloom that haunted our June. The coastal fog has lifted to unveil 80-90 degree days and we have been seeking out refuge at the beach with some of our new Malibu friends. Tomorrow it's a trip to the acclaimed Long Beach Aquarium (Noah's first time) followed by two super fun family concert events this weekend.

Did I mention how it pains me to be sans camera for these past, present and soon-to-be amazing moments that are going un-captured--lost to my "too many heavy drinking episodes in college" damaged memory?

I am going to try and send the camera to Canon this week and see if we can't get answers. Our family vacation back east is in just 4.5 weeks and I can't bear to miss another smile!

Poo, Poo, And Double Poo: Pictureless Along The Pacific.

2010-07-08T23:05:00.000-07:00

Poo. Poo. And double poo.

Our camera broke--last week--while Noah and I were exploring the wild and wily west. While taking snapshots of my little cowboy sweltering in the hot heat of Calabasas in the afternoon, my camera just up and died.

No pictures of the classic western ranch house of the historic Leonis Adobe or its barnyard full of petting animals.

No pictures of our 4th, at the home of the Producer of "The Bachelor" and other seedy reality TV shows, perched upon the cliffs of Malibu.

No pictures of the teal painted 4x8 raised garden bed we built over the holiday weekend--chock full of lettuce, carrots, herbs, pumpkins, squash, berries, tomatoes, okra...and so many more soon-to-be-table goodies that we should have built another.

No pictures of the low lying sea clouds filling our beachside canyon lately with thick dreamy fog that drifts between the leaves of the olive tree leaves and wraps itself around every succulent.

No pictures of Noah and Kai frolicking at the new neighborhood park today or chasing chickens and bunnies on our local nursery's lawn.

And, well, no pictures of my sister tomorrow on her 22nd birthday while Noey and I treat her to a picnic on the immaculately manicured lawn of a Beverly Hills' park hotspot followed by Sprinkles' (the best cupcakes in L.A.) finest.

Poo. Poo. And, double poo.

Noah's Fins.

2010-06-29T12:33:00.000-07:00

We began swim lessons this month and this video documents the 4th class of the series thoughtfully filmed by our friends, Bianca and Bryce--proud parents of little Oona Fish--at Mama Kim's pool.

Noah was chosen as the underwater demonstrator for the first class and though he had never gone under water, except for the occasional accidental tub head dunk, he did exceptionally well. Now that he knows what's coming, however, he doesn't cry as much as he "fusses" or "protests" beforehand. The kiddo crying "mommy" in the background is Oona, not Noah--though Noey has been know to occasionally whine a little "I don't want to" of his own from time-to-time.

Nevertheless, he is quite a little fishy at 18 months and we can't wait to see what a few more lessons do for his apparent naturally fantastic fins.

Viva la summer!

Rattler Ranch.

2010-06-27T10:06:00.001-07:00

(Noah in awe of a very old and very big oak tree at the Leonis Adobe in Calabasas this week)

All things have been quiet here on Milagro Ranch as of late. We seem to have nipped the earwig infestation in the bud, encouraged the spiders to set up shop elsewhere, weatherproofed and weatherstripped the centipedes and beetles out and willed away the scorpion sightings (*we hope*). Other than the rats taking up residence under the hood of our white Volkswagen golf (which requires diligent old fashion nightly rat trap settings by Dean and lots and lots of peppermint oil), we have been living virtually *spotted* pest-free within the confines of our cozy little canyon cottage and it has been glorious.

Then comes yesterday . . . *da, da, da, dum*.

We had been enjoying the kind of day that brought us to Malibu in the first place--an early afternoon beach birthday BBQ just yards from the ocean surf followed by another birthday bash, poolside, at the glorious shore-side home of Dean's boss. Clad with a fabulously authentic looking "real live" Snow White, Jack Sparrow and a bouncy house large (and pest free) enough for Dean, myself and Noah to rent a room inside of, the party was fabulously fabulous. We partied away our Saturday in true Malibu style.

We arrived home mid-evening. Dean was retrieving our tuckered out tot from the car while I unloaded the mountainous load of gear that we had been schlepping along from shindig to soiree. When at the front door, out of the corner of my left eye, did I spy, a dark, long, rattle snake sunning against the rock wall of our brick patio. Here's how things progressed from there:

Noah and I ran quickly inside via the backdoor
We called Suzanne, the land owner who lives just up the mountain
She called the Fire Dept.
Dean remained on the patio at a safe distance to keep a watchful eye on the rattler's whereabouts
Noah and I watched things unfold from the safety of the bathroom window
Suzanne appeared, and chatted with Dean about the reptile's remarkably dark color, long length (4 feet!) and large rattler
The Fire Dept. arrived within 10 minutes--with three strapping firemen and a huge shiny red fire engine they managed to squeeze and maneuver down our rough, long and rural mile long driveway
With a long pincher pole, one of the firemen grabbed the snake just behind its head
The snake, incredibly loudly, hissed and rattled while thrashing its angry body violently from side to side
After the first fireman wrestled the snake to the ground, a second chopped off its head with a shovel
The third fireman took the head and placed it in a safe location on the firetruck and gave us the still moving body to dispose of
After the firemen gave Noah a brief light show and firetruck tour, the heroes of the day backed down the long mile-drive with the venomous head of our unwelcome visitor in tow
Suzanne convinced Dean to remove the rattler from the snake's body before carrying it down to the trash
Removing the rattler from the tail of the still thrashing snake gave all of us quite a scare
Noah and Dean carried the snake body wrapped up in a grocery bag, to the safe confines of the trash can at the end of the mile drive

The rattler now sits on our kitchen counter (and soon, in Dean's studio to be used as a percussion instrument) as a reminder--a reminder that we can never let our guard down here on Milargo Ranch. Though we may not be seeing as many critters and creepers and crawlers, they're always here, around somewhere. And, that's just the price we pay for living among the beauty of nature--it's rural, raw and wild--very, very wild.

Two Buns In The Buff.

2010-06-24T23:00:00.000-07:00

Life on Milagro Ranch has its ups and downs. Sure, there are 8 inch centipedes, scorpions, rattlesnakes, vultures, tarantulas, rats, and well, I could go on and on. But, heck, this is country living, right?

It has it's perks too. Today was one of those rare days that Noah and I hung ranch-side from sun up to sun down and it was as lovely as the last. Dean blew up Noah's new inflatable pool just before he skipped off to work. Nestled on the sunny brick patio amidst climbing vines, succulents and cacti, the pool provided a day's worth of fascination and fun. Noah broke from bare-bummed swimming only long enough to nap. He even dined, eating both lunch and dinner, from the confines of his new watery playspace.

Best of all, with not a human in eye or ear shot, I gardened in the buff while Noey slumbered. Enjoying both breeze and sun in places that needed respite from a long city cloaking, I am counting the days until we plant the vegetable garden . . .

P.S. Did I mention that we have had to recently take desperate measures to prevent rats from nesting beneath our car hood at night? Well, perhaps more about that in a down post soon. Today it's all ups.

(Image courtesy of Phil Wrigglesworth, an amazing illustrator--I simply love his work.)

Daddiness Day.

2010-06-21T16:17:00.000-07:00

Blackberry, peach, banana & walnut pancakes--a hand-painted mug masterpiece--frolicking around Peter Strauss Ranch bare-bottomed (Noah only, of course), followed by lunch prepared over a wood burning stove--hammock time--baby to bed early--garlic popcorn and frosty micro brews--night two in an attempt to make it through the "Maltese Falcon" in it's entirety.

Really, does it get much better than this? I think Papa enjoyed his day.

All In A Good Day's Play: The Underwood Family Farm Edition.

2010-06-15T23:20:00.000-07:00

I could gush about this amazing Southern California family farm for hours. It was absolutely amazing. But as the midnight hour is drawing near, I find myself with heavy lids and weary fingers. Here are some collages of our beautiful day. Words are soon to follow about this and more.

A Work in Progress.

2010-06-09T20:59:00.000-07:00

Our cottage of love nestled deep within the canyons of Malibu is a real DIY (do it yourself) kind of find. And that's what really drew me to it in the first place. If I am good at anything, it's seeing the potential of what a physical space can be after I've had some time with it. The road of search and selection may sometimes be long, hard and bumpy, but once I'm there, it's a damn good feeling.

The thing is with this place, though, it's truly a roll up your sleeves and get your hands nice and dirty kind of habitat and after all, we are just renting--so there are boundaries to what is considered a reasonable renovation. So far, we've filled terracotta pots on the patio--desperate to find vegetation varieties that won't be ravaged by bunnies, ground squirrels and whatever the hell else bare branch my plants by sunrise--built our own clothesline pole and painted it a cheery "egg yolk" yellow, painted the bathroom green, glazed the unfinished clay tile floors in the bathroom and kitchen and hung a hammock between two generously fragrant eucalyptus trees. But, we still have much to do. I aim to still:

paint the bedroom
paint the living room
paint the kitchen
hang our own ceiling fan in the bedroom
buy and hang a new ceiling fan in the living room
paint the front doors
paint our computer desk
paint the unfinished door of the hot water heater closet
buy and hang new bathroom towel racks
paint the outside of the clawfoot bathtub
stain the bathroom and kitchen cabinets
build and hang bookshelves in the living room
build garden beds
plant our garden
find/build a chicken coop
find/buy chickens
convert the back guest house to Dean's studio
buy a grill

And, I am pretty sure that I have left something(s) off. The thing is, it takes time and money to do all of these things and we are often short on both. Living on a single salary means budgeting wisely. And, raising a toddler means constantly running on a time deficit. So when and how will this all get done? I just can't say. Is it silly to be investing so much time and money into a rental? Perhaps, but I just couldn't have it any other way. Home must be a comfortable refuge--a place without to-do lists lurking around in my noggin.

Aside from all of the critter drama, we really do love it here and already know that we will miss it dearly when it's time to leave. It has been several days now since we've seen any dead mammals or insects with claws, tails or 100 legs. Geeze, give me another few days and I may even forget all about the quarter-sized bug that fell from the light above onto me while I showered.

The fact of the matter is that, today, Noah and I had one of the most magical days that we have had together on this ranch so far. It has been a while since it's been just the two of us home alone all day. We napped and hiked and fed the horses and jumped in the hay and nursed in the hammock and kicked a ball and picked wild flowers and tickled in the bed--with freshly cleaned diapers drying on the line, it felt like home . . . finally. . . and I hope, that as I whittle away at the to-do list above that feeling only grows and grows.

But, we'll see. Ask me again tomorrow. Nighttime around here crawls with all of the things that could make me change my mind really quick.

Nighty, night.

Centipedes, Dead Bunnies And Scorpions, Oh My.

2010-06-05T19:08:00.000-07:00

Honey, this ain't Kansas no more. Has the Malibu honeymoon worn off yet, no, not yet. Have I stood on the desk chair with hands clasped to a gaping mouth for five minutes or even more at the 8 inch long centipede sighting on the sofa? Yes. Have I sat in the middle of the coffee table with all of the lights on not moving a muscle until Dean came home at midnight from work after spying a scorpion snacking on an earwig in the corner? Yes. Have I nearly hurled my morning coffee after Noah and I witnessed the landowner's dog corner and maul a baby bunny--not leaving a hare to spare? Yes. Yes. And, Yes.

My devoted family, friends and readers, this is it. This is the post that you have been waiting for. No more happy, smiley collages of life on the ranch or frolics on the beach. This is our life, so far on Milagro Ranch, revealed, raw and uncut for the very first time.

In summation, life for the last two months here has been hard. It's been sprinkled with moments of enjoyment--the stunning scenery, the fabulous flora and fauna, the solitude, the quiet, the star-lit night sky, the sandy rocky shore just 5 miles down a beautiful canyon road. Sure, we've even played with Julia Robert's kids down at the local playground (that's kind of cool, right?). But the rest of the time--it's been downright difficult. I have shed a tear or two of frustration, terror and exhaustion. City life is not missed at all, but sometimes the conveniences are. City life, we have determined, is easy. Sure you have to move your car by 8 a.m. on street cleaning days twice a week. Sure the sounds of helicopters and sirens at 2 a.m. wake you from your slumber and the dumpster diggers startle the baby awake daily. But it's easy dammit. Compared to this.

It took over a month to get the washer and drying properly hooked up--converting a gas dryer to run on propane, installing a hot water line, setting up the waste water pipe to properly run off into the garden down the hill, building, from scratch, a clothesline pole--painted a cheerful yellow. We finally have clean, dry clothes.

A brief but terrifying earwig infestation was thankfully nipped in the bud by an organic solution of various essential oils.

Sightings of the kinds of spiders only for science fiction comic books and the size of small dogs have been fewer and fewer--thanks to diligent weather stripping of doors and windows.

This past Saturday evening at dusk, an unwitting Dean left the screen door open while he and Noah went to hang something on the line. A few minutes later while eating dinner, it was discovered that a tiny field mouse has gained entrance. After a sometimes humorous and terrifying chase ensued, Dean successfully trapped the live but battered mouse (thanks to our worthless cats) in a mason jar and released it back into the wild night after allowing Noah a peek or two.

Snakes sunning on dusty painted steps, lizards lurking on sun-warmed rocks, gigantic vultures playfully picking at fresh roadkill, crows carrying off chipmunks for snacking and owls blocking our way on the windy narrow mountain pass at night . . .

This is the other side of the desert country coin--the side I haven't managed to capture in picture collages. Perhaps it is these time that I am too terrified to cross the room to retrieve the camera or just plain frozen with fear.

We will survive here. I know we will. And we will have grand stories to tell when we are older. Noah will have an adventurous early-life narrative. It's just the getting through the now part that's trying, as we adapt from life in Los Angeles to life on a ranch in the middle of nowhere Malibu.

Noah Finn: 17.5 Months.

2010-06-02T21:22:00.000-07:00

I've been rotten at being a blogging, ranching mama. I admit it, I've been absent--I haven't been around, I have to be honest. Keeping up with all of the changes (and struggles--oh, that post is going to be a long one) that living in the middle of nowhere in Malibu have brought along with struggling to maintain the momentum that Feeding Little Foodies had been gaining prior to the move has kept me whirling from sunrise to sunset. And, wait, I didn't even add my toddling toddler into this to-do list equation.

Nevertheless, I am aiming to regain my prior posting glory once more and have faith that it isn't too far off into the future.

In the meantime, I am going to make a list that I have been meaning to sit down and put together for a very long time now. So that 5, 10, 20 years from now, I can look back on this gloriously busy time and remember all of those beautiful little things that I am sure to forget otherwise. The thing is that this list has been changing in my head as time passes with it unwritten--it changes as I strive to keep up with a very quickly growing little boy.

Documenting Noah Finn at 17.5 months:
He learned how to kiss with a pucker and sound effects two days ago--and he smooches us on the cheek every chance he gets
Everything is "Daddy"--from the little Hispanic boy in his book to the sand sifter on the beach, it's all just "Daddy"
Favorite words that come to mind: bottle, Miles, bye, hi, go, bubble, ball, shoes, magnet, mommy, daddy, vroom, mole, more, beach, bees, cherry, book, shhhhh, boo boo, poo poo, pee pee, dog, cheese, teeth, three
He loves splashing, screaming, running and laughing in the surf with Dean
His favorite foods are fresh mango, dried blueberries and nori
He dislikes milk but he will drink it if he has to
He isn't crazy about cookies or other sweets
He loves saying bubble and pointing to the bubble bottle but is less than enthusiastic at the act of blowing them or watching someone else do so
He is absolutely o b s e s s e d with beer bottles--full or empty
He loves to throw things in the trash can (if it has a lid on it, even better)--especially rocks
He loves to hold one stem of wildflowers (or rocks) in each hand for a very long time
He doesn't care too much for swinging, but loves to slide and teeter totter
He likes to give others raspberries (bellies or backs are preferred targets)
Jumping on the bed naked after bath time is by far his favorite time of the day
His favorite color is red
He collects rocks (to later throw away, perhaps?)
His favorite toy is Henry's plastic sand shovel
He breaks out in spontaneous singing bursts of e-i-e-i-o all. day. long.

All In A Good A Day's Play: The Weekend Edition.

2010-05-17T21:25:00.000-07:00

This past weekend was a blur.

It all began Friday with a maddened trip into the valley to put a deposit down on a washer and dryer--finally! It took nearly all day, but we managed to frollic to a new valley park we had never foraged before and snuck over afterward to see an old friend that we hadn't seen in quite some time.

Saturday passed with a gray morning on the beach, followed by the unpacking of the last few boxes that were hiding in the back of the bedroom closet, all topped off with roasted chicken, heirloom potatoes, long beans and freshly squeezed lemonade.

Sunday buzzed by with an early afternoon at the Oxnard Strawberry Festival--where Noah slept nearly the entire time--despite the fact that Dean and I waited in line twice for the mini flying rockets just in the case that he'd wake before we left. All before zooming back into the valley to pick up the washer and dryer before sunset with the help of a super duper damsel devilishly disguised as a petite brunette named, Candice. Merci, mademoiselle York, Merci.

So far, today, Monday, has been super relaxing. Noah and I didn't get out of our pajamas until our evening bath. After which we put on some clean, fresh, new pajamas.

The Oxnard Strawberry Festival

Other snapshots from the weekend

I H e a r t Collages.

2010-05-11T22:15:00.001-07:00

So, I still find myself with frightfully little time to sit down and write all about the adventures we have been having since the move almost a month ago now. And, we still have much to do--we are "moved in"--but still need to paint, hang shelves, buy odds and ends and get our outdoor spaces ready for summer. There are few visits from friends scheduled until late May when my dear little sis moves out this way and stops by for a nice long visit. So, I am hoping sometime between now and then that I am able to find myself with prolific fingers and a willingness to tinker on the keys, as well as, an urge to get the indoors picture perfect.

Until then, enjoy these collages chronicling our days with and without friends in and around our new home.

Going for a beach walk with friends after a Saturday afternoon birthday BBQ.

Whaling around at the Malibu Bluffs Park after story time.

Romping on the ranch before dinnertime with Asami, Kai & Pancake.

Noah + Owen = Double Trouble.

Noah HEARTS Pancake. And, I am pretty sure that Pancake loves him too.

Yoga, rock climbing and a little bubble blowing on Leo Carillo Beach.

Flowers picked fresh from the Ranch, a handmade Mother's Day greeting and breakfast in bed. My Mother's Day = perfection.

All In A Good A Day's Play: The Weekend Edition.

2010-05-03T12:43:00.001-07:00

When time is too short to write, pictures speak a thousand words.

The weekend was busy and super productive--the place is beginning to look like home. With Dean back to work today after a long three-day weekend, Noah Finn and I have a bustling week ahead. Annaliisa and Owen are coming today to stay for a few days followed by a short little visit from Asami and Kai. We have storytime at the Bluffs on Thursday and hopefully another productive weekend to follow.

Though I have so much to say and tell, photos that we have been collecting over the last few days are going to have to explain it all for me, for now.

So, enjoy, and happy Monday!

Our first official meal--Garlic Grilled Shrimp With Corn & Potatoes: the recipe can be found on my Feeding Little Foodies blog at www.feedinglittlefoodies.com:

Pictures from some Friday and Sunday beachtime--Leo Carillo beach is the closest. It's 5 miles down the mountain from us. The road that we live just off of dead ends at its rocky shore:

Photos of some of our outdoor spaces and our dining room that has moved outdoors:

Noah H e a r t s Milagro.

2010-04-30T09:33:00.001-07:00

He visits the horses each morning after breakfast.
He jumps on bales of hay in the feed barn.
He picks wildflowers for mama's vases.
He swings and slides on the sunny playground vista.
He naps with the sounds of the birds and the bees wafting through breezy open doors and windows.
He runs alongside of the Lab pups, Pancake and Marmalade, each afternoon.
He collects rocks in his Halloween pumpkin.
He harvests lemons and blood oranges from the little hillside orchard.
He climbs and plays and sits and ponders and runs and squawks.

Noah H E A R T S Milagro Ranch.

For more pictures from our move and 1.5 weeks at our new home, visit us on flickr.

Happy Friday.

Welcome To Milagro Ranch, Our Home Sweet Home.

2010-04-29T19:46:00.000-07:00

Oie. Oie. Oie. The ups, the downs, the stress and then the release, of moving.

We had, hands down, the most magnificent, fabulous, fantastic and splendiferously excellent friends helping us before, during and after moving day--and I have to say that I have never had so much fun moving before. Many, many beautiful, gracious thanks are in order for the following near and dear marvelous movers: Asami, Atsushi, Gabe, John, Kathleen, Yuka, Mark, James, Candice and Cassidy. The topping on the moving cupcake was the great piano feat--many hours of strategizing and heavy lifting, straining and cussing later, the circa 1889 behemoth was moved in one piece from it's former bustling home mid-city, Los Angeles to it's current place of residence, Milagro Ranch, Malibu.

I have so much to tell, thus much to write, but few hours in which to devote to writing it all down for now. Dean is super busy unpacking at work leaving little time for him to aid me in my settling down efforts here at the home front. But, hark, there is light at the end of this dim tunnel. He is set to have a three day weekend beginning tomorrow. Not only will I delve into un-boxing and decorating our new cozy little cabin, but I will also try and chronicle our life here at Milagro Ranch so far--one and a half week in. All I can say is . . . it's heartstoppingly beautiful. I have to stop and ask myself at least once an hour if this is really home . . .

In the meantime, enjoy . . .

New Spaces And Fun Places: The Movie.

2010-04-15T09:27:00.001-07:00

New Spaces And Fun Places.

2010-04-15T00:42:00.001-07:00

It is funny how packing up a home is for most adults a daunting, dreaded and scattering task as all things important get boxed up and taped and stacked. But for kids, it seems, moving is as exciting as finding themselves in an entire new cardboard playground each and every day. As we shuffle and shift things, Noah Finn finds new places to play, hide and explore. While packing up the kitchen today, I moved some large mixing bowls that were stored under our island. Noah quickly replaced them with his presence and it has been a favorite hideout ever since. What new shall be discovered tomorrow?

Anniversaries And Birthdays And Moving, Oh My!

2010-04-13T11:43:00.000-07:00

Talk about an eventful week--this week is the definition--it's a week chock full of events. Anniversary yesterday, my . . . ahem, choke, gasp . . . 31st birthday on Friday and moving day on Saturday. Sheesh, Calgon take me away. . .

Anniversary celebrations yesterday were just what the Doctor ordered (flowers like those of my wedding bouquet and a surprise dinner date topped with garlic ice cream) and the birthday will hopefully pass uneventfully unnoticed (what's 31, anyway, but a reminder of how close to the hill you are?!). And, moving, well so far so good, my friends. We are uncharacteristically organized during this grand packing event. Thanks to the help of beautiful friends this past weekend helping to entertain and contain our Noah Finn, we were able to pack up more than half of our place. I may even venture to suggest that having a child forces you to plan, prepare ahead of time and be organized in a way that being single lacks. With the assistance of more Noah wranglers this week and Dean taking Friday off for last minute preparations, we plan to box up the remaining baubles and bangles and get this moving to Malibu feat going already.

So with fingers crossed for beautiful weather and strong-muscled friends present to help on moving day, we trek along to the spot of our next California adventure. Wish us luck!

10 Years Of Love, 3 Years Of Marriage.

2010-04-12T12:50:00.000-07:00

Happy Anniversary, my love.

These pictures from our wedding can be found here.

Wordless Wednesday.

2010-04-07T23:21:00.001-07:00

More pictures from our week and Wednesday at flickr.

Beautiful Things: The Moving Edition.

2010-04-06T12:27:00.000-07:00

As we prepare to move over the next two weeks, I am sure my lamenting of what will be lost is only going to grow more often in occurrence. Though I am very excited about the move, it is in my nature to resist letting go.

Much will be gained naturally as a result of the move--we'll be surrounded by more wildlife and nature than we'll know what to do with-- but I cannot help but morn the loss of the man made beauty present in our current home that we will be leaving and losing.

I imagine that my next few "Beautiful Things" posts will be of those beautiful things that I anticipate missing and want to ensure I have captured ample memories of.

So, here is the first of what I imagine will be several collages of beautiful things found in our home soon-to-be-no-more lately.

Hoppy Easter.

2010-04-05T21:10:00.000-07:00

Noah's first real recollection of the bunny, egg and basket filled holiday was a smash! On Friday we mingled at the L.A. M.I.L.K.s' (Los Angeles Moms I'd Like To Know) Easter soiree at the park where Noah collected and then destroyed brightly colored plastic eggs and their healthful contents--dried fruit and cereal. Skip Saturday, which was mostly filled with packing for our upcoming move (thanks to Nick--my sister's boyfriend who watched Noah) followed by a visit to our favorite local pizza establishment, Village Pizzeria, and fast forward to Sunday's festivities--a morning PJ egg hunt and an afternoon picnic at the park with Asami, Atsushi and Kai.

It was so much hoppin' we almost can't wait until next year! And, tons of more pics are on our flickr site, here.

My Little CasaNOAH.

2010-04-01T22:18:00.000-07:00

Noey Finn and I have been seeing the same group of mamas and babies on Wednesday afternoons since he was about, oh, 4 months old or so. Early on, we deemed our little clan "Babies On Blankets" (or BOB for short) but as the babies have become increasingly mobile, it was only accurate to revise the title--to "Babies OFF Blankets". And just as the name has changed, so has our meeting location. We had to ditch our soft, green, grassy knoll under the shady pines of Barnsdall Art park in Los Feliz in search of more occupying play structures, sand boxes and ample romping obstacles to keep our toddling tots entertained long enough for us to catch one another up on current spawn news.

This week's meeting found Noah Finn in awe of Louisa's new knack for scaling the rolly slide at Griffith Park. He whined at the bottom as he watched her zoom past with precision and skill. But I saved the most interesting Wednesday bit for last. See the girl holding Noah Finn in not one, but three of the pictures above? No, we don't know her. Nope, Noah Finn doesn't know her either. But, he sure does look comfy snuggling in her lap, doesn't he? He hung with little doe-eyed girlie and her doting female companions for a good 20 minutes or so. I mean seriously, they fawned over him. I know that he has a preference for boobies--but those are mine and they squirt milk. Could it be that my little boy is already loving the not-my-mama ladies? No . . . yes?

Just call him, little CasaNOAH!

Who Knew? Part Two.

2010-03-30T21:45:00.000-07:00

For more of our YouTube videos, click here!

Who Knew?

2010-03-28T21:28:00.000-07:00

Funny faces, peek-a-boo, brown rice noodles in the ear, salmon and zucchini motor boats . . . who knew eating could be so much fun? Apparently, Noah Finn did.

All In A Good A Day's Play: Park Edition

2010-03-28T00:22:00.000-07:00

Springtime, linen overalls, good friends, lots of sunshine--does it really get any better than this?
I think not.

Just Call Me Mama Malibu.

2010-03-25T23:02:00.000-07:00

Dean's job is relocating to one of the most delicious places this side of the Grand Canyon--Malibu. Pont Dume, to be precise, and we have boldly decided to ditch city life for the slower, softer and gentler existence to be found nestled in the wild and rural terrain of the canyons just a stone's throw from the beach.

There are no apartments to speak of in Malibu, just a smattering of multi-million dollar homes precariously perched upon ocean-side cliffs, hidden on hillscapes behind scrubby brush and retaining walls, or on sprawling ranches found down long windy dusty dirt roads. That's it--not much to speak of as far as shopping, or touristing, or hollywooding--it's surprisingly rural to those who visit for the first time. So, what's a multi-million dollarless family to do if they have chosen this destination as home? Search for the rare humble guest house even though they are breathtakingly overpriced and severely under square-footaged.

Nevertheless, we're ready, oh, so, ready to dodge the grimy, noisy, crowded, stink of the city. Malibu is not far from where we are now living, but it sure feels a world away. We are ready for green and grass and nature and quiet and flowers and creeks and ocean and breeze and wildlife and rocks and dirt and leaves on trees. We are ready for a few adopted hens and farm fresh eggs. We are ready for a goat and farm fresh milk and cheese. We are ready, after a 10 year wait, to adopt a dog who will trail our heels through the lush expanse of the 20 acre horse ranch we found this past weekend.

The house is small but rustic. All it needs is a little loving hand. The land it's on is oh so huge and pristine and ours for the exploring, gardening, flowering, romping and picnicking. I can't wait for Noah to rub each horses nose in the morning before breakfast. I can't wait to lunch on the beach everyday. I can't wait to water my edible garden at sunset and wake to the song of birds and dance of squirrels. We will inhabit this cozy little cottage for only a year, two at most (or who knows, maybe we'll fall in love and stay forever)--until we move on up to the pacific northwest in search of a permanent homestead, a home we'll own.

In the meantime, we are giddy with excitement for our last adventure as wanderers, as house freelances and the freedom it provides--the freedom to wax and wane from place to place until we've scratched all the itches to live wherever we want to live until it's time to wander no more. This really will be nothing less than a really long vacation--Noah and I frolicking around the ranch and beach with Dean scampering to his dream job by weekday and hiking and BBQ'ing and sunbathing at week's end.

It's not all roses and pickles though, isolation does enter my mind. I have already begun to seek out Malibu mommy groups, music classes and playgroups for Noey Finn and I--which are few and far in between as far as I can tell. We are so active with other mamas and babies here in the city that I am not sure if this will provide a welcomed rest or forced seclusion. Only time will tell.

In the meantime, it's Malibu or bust, baby.

Beautiful Things.

2010-03-22T22:13:00.000-07:00

House hunting and birthday parties and wagon rides, oh my. Noey's new shoes and chubby sandy toes and dancing dandelions, oh my. Crocheting with cotton and vibrant tulips and splashing feet in fountains, oh my.

Beautiful, beautiful things, oh my.

This was our past week in pictures. Happy Spring.

Spring Break 2010: The Adventures of Auntie Meg.

2010-03-22T22:07:00.001-07:00

I wish it was my college senior year spring break--oh, how I wish it was. But, golly, that was almost 10 years ago now--oie.

My sister's spring break here in Los Angeles has come to an end--with her red eye flight back to North Carolina tonight, she will hopefully take with her beautiful memories. Despite having to share her with her roommate and boyfriend, who just recently moved here a few months ago, (and both who were very nice) it was a very lovely visit. Clothes piles and all . . . we're gonna miss Auntie Meg.

For new great pics, visit us on flickr!

Wordless Wednesday: Well, Almost Wordless.

2010-03-17T23:53:00.000-07:00

"Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination." --Oscar Wilde

A "Wildeism" in honor of a Wordless Wednesday St. Patty's Day--as such, no truer words have ever been spoken about Dean and I. Wilde would have deemed our imaginations limitless.

Beautiful Things: The Auntie Meg Edition.

2010-03-13T16:29:00.000-08:00

I have been unable to sit and crank out any coherent posts this past week. My little sister Megan and her roommate are here visiting for their senior year spring break. They arrived on a red eye Thursday and it has been silly, college, family, eating, love ever since. I am sure that as this week progresses, I'll have time to update the blog with all of the fun that is being had.

In the meantime, enjoy this image from Noah and Meggie's lounge session yesterday afternoon after Noah Finn woke from an unusually long nap. So, so cute.

All In A Good Day's Play: The Flora, Fauna and Us, At The Huntington Edition.

2010-03-05T19:07:00.000-08:00

Those not lucky enough to live in visiting proximity of The Huntington Library, Art Collections & Botanical Gardens simply do not know what they are missing. And even that is an understatement of great proportions as The Huntington is a kind of heavenly utopia nestled in the quaintly sublime suburb of Pasadena, San Marino.

I had visited once before--to see a stunning and rare visiting installation of English poet, painter and print maker, William Blake, back when I was a fledgling grad student. The experience then was pleasant. I was moved most by the incredibly detailed and individualized copper plates that Blake used to relief etch his poetry onto rather than by the sheer enormity and astute aesthetic plenitude of the gardens themselves.

I visited again yesterday--the first Tuesday of the month is free--with Noah Finn, Asami and Kai. Instead of a notebook, I was loaded down with a stroller, snacks, diapers, sippy cup and a few days supply of "what ifs" stuff. We didn't make it far in the first hour or so--strolling only a few feet each time before someone had to go to the bathroom, take a snack or stroller break, or "investigate" a puddle and it's contents that we had just passed. Well into the second hour, once we finally began making headway, we wandered through and by gardens of splendor and plenty--gardens that had used up every last drop of recent rain to color themselves bolder than ever. We found ourselves veiled by a colorful symphony of wildlife--bumblebees, butterflies, geese and chirping birds--clover flowers, green green grass, dew-covered petals and scampering squirrels.

The children's garden by far was the highlight of the day. Water pools, rock gardens, animal-shaped bushes, rainbow tunnels, misting tee-pees, mini vine-covered arbors, tiny foliage cottages--it was a place for hobbits and fairies.

It's funny how you experience things so differently when you are towing tots. Things you never paused to even note before become central attractions and things that once took priority before are quickly forgotten. At the end of it all, as Noah and Kai snoozed in their strollers while we walked from the exit to our car, I took note of how much I enjoyed visiting The Huntington this time. It was so different from the first. And despite the lack of art present by what some might hail as the "greatest artist Britain has ever produced", I had all I needed right there with me--my dear sweet friends and my beautiful boy, Noah Finn.

For more pictures of our day at The Huntington, visit us on flickr.

History In The Making: The Crappy Cellphone Picture Edition.

2010-03-02T18:16:00.000-08:00

We've been busy lately, but in the best way. Daddy has been filling his mornings before work with satisfying solo projects and Noah Finn and I have filled our days cavorting around town with our best mommy and baby pals.

This past Sunday, after a family morning in the park outing with one of my mommy groups, we went to brunch with Asami, Kai and Atushi. Despite the posh Larchmont Village neighborhood and the attention to aesthetic detail of the space we found ourselves dining in, the food was barely mediocre and my slice of "freshly baked" tart cherry pie . . . well, I won't bore you with my cantankerous criticism. But, still, the afternoon was serene . . . frolicking in and out of shoe shops, our favorite organic kid's store owned by Punky Brewster, and past a sidewalk dog adoption event. After pouting for some time, Dean finally caved and approved the addition of a dog to our ever growing family. So, I am excited to report that we'll be combing local shelters in the coming weeks and months in search of the perfect mutt for us to rescue from certain death and love forever and ever.

Okay, but, back to Sunday . . . after our Larchmont afternoon, we ventured to Trader Joe's to battle the parking lot crowds for a highly prized patch of Trader Joe's asphalt in an effort to wrangle up an easy dinner. As Dean walked around the car to retrieve our little toddler who had been unusually quiet during the short car trip, I sat sulking in the passenger seat (Dean had not yet relented and caved in on the dog issue at this point).

And. Then. Dean shrilly shrieked. And, then he loudly panted . . . "oh. my. god." several times.

It appeared as if Noah Finn had decided that costumes were required attire for Trader Joe Sunday's and he was intent on coming prepared--he was painted head to toe in a lovely shade of "fig". It was everywhere and by everywhere, I mean everywhere.

You see, Noah and I had driven the hour drive up to Canyon Country just the day before to attend a going away party for very dear friends of ours. In a desperate effort to silence the backseat crooner during the drive, I handed him my small make up bag that I carry in the diaper bag. I don't wear much make up--just chapstick and a little under-eye concealer to hide my black bags of sleep deprivation--so it mostly contains holistic first aid supplies for Noah and a few OB tampons that Noah loves to chew on--wrapped, of course. Noah loves this little pouch of tiny treasures and I always revert to it when in any sticky screaming situation. But, apparently there was one rogue tube of lipstick remaining from past days of yore when my lips were more decorated that Noah not only found but stashed in his carseat for "later", as it appears.

The funny thing is that Dean and I laughed--we laughed until we were crying and until, well, we made Noah cry. He is crying in the pictures above because he was left in the carseat so long as we laughed chuckled and wiped away our tears of sheer hilarity. The best part of it all was that it broke the tension--the terse dog conversation dissipated into a fit of family laughter and I think that it can be attributed with lightening things to the point of Dean finally giving in upon his return to the car from the store.

You see, the weekend was a great two days of parenting woes and follies that ultimately resulted in the addition of a new family member--soon. The only damper was that our camera was no where in sight. Unfortunately, I had to snap pictures of Noah's face painting antics, as well as, his first trip to the Los Angeles Natural History Museum with my camera phone--phooey on poor photography to mark major moments. At least it was all documented. It's Noah Finn history in the making.

Milestones Are Expensive.

2010-02-24T18:42:00.000-08:00

More baby gear. It never ends, I fear. Each milestone has a price tag and this month several of them have come all at once: first "big boy" shoes, next step in carseats, next and last size in cloth diapers, a shiny new ergonomic red potty chair, and some other fun "kind of needs" that I sneakily threw in to get free shipping (a whale faucet cover and bath toy storage).

It's funny how having children creates a never-ending need for stuff. And we try not to overdo stuff--we try to minimalize, we try not to pork out with overconsumption, we try to recycle, reduce and reuse. I love craig's list. But you never can be sure that a carseat hasn't been in a wreck, and a used potty, well, we won't even go there.

So, today was necessary--the stuff buying, it was needed . . . and it was a day that I got to gear up again with many firsts (shoes, potty) and lasts (cloth diapers) for my very quickly growing little dude.

Sundays Are For Warriors.

2010-02-23T21:59:00.000-08:00

grey morning.
chilly air.
dusty earth.
quiet canyon.
baby.
mama.
daddy.
big mountain.
sunday warriors.