_ Date: February 19, 2012
Trail: One Eye Creek Trail
Temp: 51 Degrees
Mileage: 5.68 Miles RT
Elevation Gain: 1,000 Feet
Time: 2 Hours

 

We attempted this trail this past summer and the overgrown poison oak and mosquito’s sent us running back to the car. My husband saved it on his “must do” list because there is a rapid moving creek (with fish potential) and spectacular falls.

The trail is accessible by taking Traverse Creek to Bear Creek, then turning right on the County road 12N81. Head up the dirt road for about a half mile until you reach a wide point where the road splits. Technically you can continue to drive to the trail head as the path is wide enough but I’m fairly certain it isn’t to be used by the general public. We park at the first sign and walk about a mile to the trail head, which is clearly marked 11E12 One Eye Creek Trail.

In the summer vegetation grows heavy for the first quarter mile of the official trail, but this time of year the path is clear. Keep in mind though the trail appears clear because the poison oak is dormant, you can still get poison oak from the branches. I recommend long pants for this hike.

The trail by its nature, running along the ridge of a gully is very shaded, which makes for a really cool trek down.

About half way down the trail you will come across an abandoned mine shaft where the trail becomes very narrow. It’s very neat to see from a distance but looks treacherous and terrifying up close.

After the shaft the trail descends rapidly and you will encounter many switchbacks. The elevation decline is deceiving until the return back, but is well worth the trek.

The trail appears to end where the creek widens and is almost river-esq in movement. This time of the year, the trail should end there, because the rest of it would be under water, but due to the lack of rain fall, the trail is easily passable.

It runs along the creek bank and up to some jagged rocks, just past that you will find a beautiful waterfall. The light was perfect for some really nice landscape shots.

The way back is intense and steep. This hike is really nice for its remote factor and lack of over usage, yet it’s still very well marked.

_ I’ve always been the kind of person who has a lot going on at any one time. Sitting still has never been on my agenda, and this hasn’t changed with motherhood. The only difference now is the type of activities I participate in.

Since my son was born, I’ve juggled a variety of “jobs” including, writer, therapist, marketing gal and Mom.

This past week, my MFT Supervisor and I were sitting in our weekly meeting and she asked me if I intended to continue working with the agency beyond my contract. It was one of those moments in life where you are torn between what you think you should say, and what you really feel.

Unfortunately, she caught me on a day where I’d seen eight very emotional clients, and thus I was feeling more than I was thinking, because I’d spent the whole day turning off emotions and “thinking” for everyone else. So, without much of a pause I just honestly told her, that I didn’t think I would be. And then I started crying.

Fortunately, she’s been a therapist for fifteen years, so tears on the job are a common occurrence. But those tears caught me off guard. Where had they originated? I couldn’t even blame it on my period.

And on the drive home, I got a text from my husband telling me he’d put Tuck to bed, and to drive safe and that he loved me. I envisioned the way the two of them tear up the house when I work late, snacks and toys strewn about. And, I felt a sad twinge that on nights like that night I didn’t get to cuddle my tiny bug and kiss his soft forehead and squeeze his little fat thighs.

But for all of those amazing moments, there are days where “working” for/with the baby has been so draining, that I wish I’d gone away to work, where I could have taken a lunch break, or if it gets too hectic, I could just have left for the afternoon claiming a vacation day.

This has long been a dilemma, to be a “go to work” Mom, or be a “stay at home” Mom. And I felt like I established a very good balance…but each day that Tuck gets a little bigger I start to feel a sense of impending doom. Doom that looms over saying, “He’s only going to be this small and this innocent for a short while…you better not blink.” Doom that says even working one a day a week means I’m missing something. And doom that makes you feel guilty for enjoying having a sense of self, freedom to blast the music in the car, and the adult conversation. Because although you can convince yourself that he needs a few hours a week with his grandparents, or the social interaction at Creative Preschool, it still is not the same as him having his Mom.

Up until now, I’ve managed a writing career as a freelance journalist, toting smiley-Tuck along on interviews. I’ve managed a few hours here and there working for my husband, bringing Tuck along to see Daddy work. And I’ve been working as a therapist.

My therapy days are both emotionally challenging and incredibly draining. There’s no such thing as leaving your work at the office, when your work involves someone who is relying on you to somehow help them through their burdens. Inevitably you carry these burdens as well.

And of course, there’s the topic of countertransference. The clients who have something in their lives which so closely aligns with your own (past, present or future) that you feel as if you already intertwined in their destiny, maybe already lived it.

But next to being Matt’s wife, and Tuck’s Mom, my therapy work is the most rewarding thing I do. Every day I know I’m implementing positive change, even if ever so miniscule.

Many women would argue that I should just be thankful that I have a husband that makes enough that I have the choice. But I still struggle with the balance, of me-mom-wife.

My Mother-In-Law said something to be not too long ago that has really stuck with me through my journey into motherhood. She said, “Go to work Mom, or stay at home Mom. Every Mom is a ‘working’ Mom.” She continued on to say that though she stayed at home with all three of her children, there’s not a single day it wasn’t work. And I know exactly what she means.

Someone once told me they judge all decisions in life by asking themselves, “In twenty years, what will I forget, and what will I remember?”

In twenty years, I believe, either way, I will remember that I was the best Mom I knew how to be, and sometimes that meant I didn’t always make the best choices.

_ Date: February 17, 2012
Trail: Monroe Ridge to Marshall Monument Trails, Coloma
Temp: 63-55 Degrees
Mileage: 3.5 Mile Loop
Elevation Gain: 500 feet
Time: 1 Hour 6 Minutes

The Monroe Ridge Trail is one that I’ve wanted to do for some time. Living in the area where gold was discovered means the weekdays in Coloma are filled with school buses full of kids on field trips, and weekends are filled with families looking to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city and enjoy a picnic in the “wilderness.”

Coloma’s easy access to Highway 50, well established museum and river access make it a very popular tourist destination.

Trail blazers Eric and Shannon joined me today as we searched for the well hidden trail head. We took Highway 153 (California’s shortest State highway) up to Marshall Monument where we easily found the trail head just a short distance from the Monroe Orchard.

Today, Eric brought along a pack they used to carry their son, Hunter, in. I was thankful. The Kelty Kid wire frame pack gave me a good sampling of the type of equipment I’ll have for Mt. Whitney, and reminded me the sooner I get my equipment to train with, the better.

The trail starts out fairly wide, but quickly becomes single track. There are many “vista points” which feature stunning views of the American River running through Coloma and Gold Discovery Park as well as Lotus and Hennessey Park. The way that the trail is built, it runs along the ridge, and switchbacks for a full 360 degree view of the surrounding Coloma River Valley.

This hike is impressive, even for locals. The elevation gain is enough to have you panting while talking and the distance is decent enough to call exercise. Part of the trail features wood bridges and staircases that cross the inactive flume trail/irrigation ditch.

At the end of the first 3 miles, you run plum into Highway 49, at this point you walk through the park a bit towards the teepees and other historic elements to the Marshall Monument Trail, which is another ½ mile to the impressive James Marshall monument. The monument towers above the park with a statue of Marshall himself pointing to the place where gold was first discovered.

This dual-trail combination makes for a great after work (3:30) weekday hike, especially since it’s the one time of day that the area is quiet.

_ Every morning for the last few months, when my son wakes up, I bring him into our bed, and inevitably he cuddles with Momma for all of five seconds before he decides to crawl over to Dada. And every morning I tell Tuck, “if you want Dada to wake up you have to say Dada. Da-Da. Da-Da. Wake up Da-Da.”

Now part of me thought this was funny, and part of me really hoped he just pop off one morning and shock us both, his first words being, “wake up Dada.” Either way I knew it was a long ways off.

A couple nights a week my husband and I would play “Momma Dada” with the baby where we take turns saying it with different tonality and dialect, sometimes even in the form of a question, “Momma? Or Dada?”

I’m fairly certain our mouth twisting mumbling just looked like a rare and goofy version of baby charades but none the less, he seemed to have a good time, straining his neck to look at whoever was talking.

Eventually I started calling Dennis (our Golden Retreiver) “Dennis. The dog.” And after awhile Dennis lost his name all together and just became “The dog.” And shortly after that almost everything was coined with one word and a point of my finger, “Tree.” “Ba-Ba.” “Milk.” “Hot.” “Bath.”

But Tuck was far too busy working on his motor skills to do anything more than grunt. In those couple weeks he learned how to wave hello, high-five and even clap. One Wednesday morning, I got up to leave for my one-day-a-week job and while waving I said, “Bye Tuck, Bye Dada!”

Tuck gave me a good solid clap in return and I headed out the door. My husband was to drop Tuck off to spend a few hours with his Pops. And within thirty minutes I received a text message from my husband and I was in the middle of a session with a client when it popped up on my phone.

“I think Tuck said Dada.”

Immediately after my session I blew up my husband’s phone, “What? Seriously? Where, when, how? Are you sure? Call me.”

But my husband didn’t call. I figured he was busy at work, so I called my next client in.

Then, around 6pm I got another text message. “Yup. He’s definitely saying Dada.”

When I got home that night Tuck was asleep, so the next morning I brought him in bed like usual. We cuddled and within a few seconds he was crawling on top of his Dad. Having just woken from slumber I just blurted out my usual, “If you want him to wake up you have to say Dada.”

I expected the typical response, “grrr gaaaahhhhhhh geeeeehhhh” and instead I got, “DA-DA!” clear as day. I couldn’t not believe what I had just heard.

My husband who’d been half awake the whole time rolled over with a huge smile on his face and scooped up his little guy, putting him in a Daddy lock and smothering him with tickles and kisses.

My heart absolutely melted. I had the joy of carrying him for 40 weeks, and I had wanted nothing more than for him to say Dada first. But I never thought it would feel so special and sound so absolutely adorable.

In the next few days, Tuck learned how to crawl over the other side of me, and peer over the edge to the floor and say, “DAWG.” The first time I just started whooping and hollering, “Yes! That’s right! That’s Dennis, the DOOGGG.”

Everyone is pending his next word, which with my luck will probably be “Nana” and then “Ba-Ba” but someday he’s going to say Momma. And that is going to be one of the best days of my life.

 

_ Date: February 14, 2012
Trail: Old Flume Trail/Red Shack, Placerville Calif
Temp: 53 Degrees
Mileage: 3.00 Out and Back
Elevation Gain: 800 Feet
Time: 50 minutes

My friends and fellow trail blazers Shannon and Eric joined me on the Flume Trail training hike this afternoon. We took Highway 49 towards Coloma, to the trail head which is directly across from the Red Shack. There is a fairly large parking area.

The trail aptly named, features two separate flume trails. The elevation drop is rapid, at 800 feet for 1.5 miles. Poison oak lines the trail, however the trail is wide enough for two persons side by side in most areas.

Stunning views of the Chili Bar Canyon abound as you make your descent to the South Fork of the American River. This is about the 10th time I’ve hiked this trail, and it’s definitely my favorite as an after-work/golden hour hike. Once you reach the bottom you can follow the flume trail towards Coloma or hike along the river bank.

You will find many calm areas of the river with gorgeous flat rocks which make excellent skipping stones. My husband loves to fish here, and my Golden loves to swim here. If you are considering this for a day hike, pack a lunch and enjoy the scenery.

The canyon towers high above and the trained eye can even spot Highway 193 through Chili Bar at its peak. Though it is only 1.5 miles away from a major highway, it feels very remote and secluded.

The return hike is straight up hill, which has nearly no level spots. If you are a seasoned hiker, you will have no trouble enjoying this hike during the weekday and will enjoy the strenuous workout.

Next up – Monroe Ridge Trail – Coloma

_ Date: February 13, 2012
Trail: Slate Mountain, El Dorado National Forest
Temp: 56 Degrees
Mileage: 3.00 Out and Back
Elevation Gain: 3000 – 3892
Time: 1 Hour 30 Minutes

Snow dusted the Sierra’s on Friday afternoon, and after talking with the Ranger station we decided to postpone Mount Whitney until Spring. My brother in law decided to drive down to our house from UNR on Saturday afternoon because we knew at the elevation I live at we’d have more luck finding passable trails.

After an incredible dinner of lobster bisque (made from scratch) and shrimp scampi, my husband pulled out the Crystal Basin Silver Fork Ranger Map, and identified a few trails. While we could have hiked a few trails right off the highway (such as Ellicotts near Uncle Toms), we selected the Sugar Pine Loop off in Blodgett Forest.

We started our journey to the trailhead Sunday morning at 9am. The weather was partly cloudy and a brisk 49 degrees.

We turned off Wentworth Springs Rd at Highway 13 in Quintette, and after traversing old logging roads we came across a locked gate (Nov-May). There was no snow on the trails, but admittedly this is unorthodox for this time of year.

At that point we went back out to where Highway 13 (12N64) crosses 12N60. We drove down 12N60 to a trailhead at the intersection of 11N85 and 12N60. There is a large turn out and some well traveled motorcycle trails.

Six of us (plus the baby) began our hike at the trail head marked 72. The hike begins at the bottom of dark canyon, where the Cedar grows enormously high. The path is very secluded, sans a few quads and motorcycles. Due to the nature of its location, and the dirt roads I recommend bringing two vehicles in.

The trail was well marked for the first .5 until it ran into road 12N76. At this point we could have trekked down 12N76 to a 2.2 trail but instead we followed 12N76 up the road, another .6. The road takes you up a steep incline and around a sharp switchback. At the top of the road we came across a locked gate which leads to the stop of Slate Mountain.

We passed around the gate (easily passable on foot) and continued another .4 miles until we reached the satellite station atop the mountain. The view was absolutely stunning. From this vantage point we were able to see Crozier Loop Road, all the way to Folsom Lake, the view is nearly 180 degrees. The storm was rolling in and it literally felt as if we could reach up and touch the cumulonimbus clouds forming above the mountain.

We intend to go back and attempt Sugar Pine Loop again in the fall, and though we did not get the distance we’d hoped, we certainly got the elevation gain, and we were able to start talking about the type of gear that we’ll need.

 

_ Date: February 4, 2012
Trail: Stifle Claim, El Dorado National Forest
Temp: 56 Degrees
Mileage: 1.40 Loop
Elevation Gain: 2250 – 2500
Time: 38 Minutes

I spent a few days researching training strategies for summiting Mount Whitney, and fell short on any well documented plans. I was ideally looking for a “Hal Higdon training guide for mountain summiting” and had no luck.

Thus I have decided to journal my trek to summit Mount Whitney the first week of September with my husband, son, and brother-in-law.

My hike this afternoon was a quick prep for our upcoming Mount Rose hike, as I knew it was rocky and would be similar terrain.

I’ve hiked this trail multiple times and it’s one of my favorite local hikes. The trail head is 500 feet from the well known Mar Det trail, and has plenty of parking.

Today I was packing my son Tuck, who now weighs 17lbs, in his Infantino carrier, which is more open (and also less comfortable) than the ErgoBaby I usually use. This trail is dog friendly, though be wary as it is popular with horseback riders.

If you are a rock lover, you will find amazing specimens. There is incredulous history surrounding the Stifle Claim Trail which backs up to the Bear Creek Rock Quarry. It’s also a haven for flower lovers, though this time of year is relatively dry.

The trail follows a babbling brook until a bridge takes you across, from there the trail becomes mildly confusing, there is a hard to spot turn off to the left, which will take you up a mildly impressive elevation gain considering the low mileage. If you veer to the right you will head to a wider spot of the river (great for letting the horses drink) and can continue on towards the Mar Det trail.

After completing the elevation gain the trail is very well cleared, in summer there is a rocky area which is prone to snakes, watch your footing. The path weaves through pine and madrone forest and boasts some nice views before looping back to the trailhead.

I polished off this trail in just under 40 minutes today. Next up: Mount Rose.

I believe in manifesting dreams. I believe in creating your own  reality. I also believe that sometimes our unconscious heart and soul manifest better than our conscious mind does.

 I remember my first dream board like it was yesterday. I was lucky enough to have become close friends with a woman who had an amazing ability to see her dreams to reality. Lorraine Salgueiro, owner of Bliss Yoga, was not only a talented woman but a true manifestor of dreams. And she’s the woman I still credit with helping me see the importance of living in the moment, while dreaming of tomorrow.

 I asked her to help me with my first dream board, and we made a girl night of it right after New Years Eve. It was a phenomenal way to kick off the new year. That night, over Dove chocolates and a few glasses of red wine, she taught me the ins and outs and everything I needed to know about creating your own destiny, and finding your true intention in life. 

My first dream board was good, but shotty. Among travel destinations and a successful book launch I had selected magazine images of a guy. I certainly had a few candidates in mind when I selected images for my
dream board.

 Perhaps thanks to the wonderful dream board coach I had, exact imagery from my dream board – random pictures I’d pulled from magazines had manifested themselves in my life. I was creating my own reality and seeing my dreams come to fruition.

 Half way through that amazing year, I got into an “online” banter with a girl who was connected to someone that I’d had a relationship with  –albeit brief. My course had already changed direction, but it was her mission to ensure it. She ended up flying the white flag first and the debacle came to an end when she sent me an email attempting to apologize for the drama she had started, with a final stab that said something to the effect of, “from what little I do know about you, you’ve overcome some tough things in life…not everyone turns lemons into lemonade.”

 And since she was waving the white flag, I never told her what “little” I knew about her, or what I thought the circumstances…In thinking back on that event I realize the huge impact it had on my life, because that is what helped me see that the man I was dating, was truly the one I was destined for. But I also realized that other forces were at play, ones greater than my dream
board, working to ensure I was living my true intention.

 That was an incredulous year of learning about love and life, and the true meaning of each. At the end of that year, when I looked at my dream board, I realized that sometimes what we think we want, is not our path at all, and so long as you remain open to the universe around you, what’s meant to be will find its way.  
 

Of course, now, in the future looking back, I realize there were greater powers at force than my dream board, because that man I was dating, is in fact my husband now. And most importantly, he’s the father of my child; a being that would have ceased to existed had my husband not had his own dreams in life to follow. He’s not only supportive of, but a participant in, my dream boards. He’s the type of guy who is incredibly in touch with things like destiny, clarity and above all, fighting
for things you desire in life. 

I’ve had friends join my January dream board party, and I’ve even started using the creation of dream boards in my therapy practice. I get so much fulfillment when someone emails or texts me, “OH MY GOD, dream board photo just
came true.”

Just this past week, one of my girlfriends texted me that she was stuck this year and she couldn’t find pictures that meant anything. I suggested she spend a week writing “feeling” words and then places, and then spend a few
more days thinking about what those words mean to her.

Then I reminded her of some of the amazing techniques I had learned from my dream board coach…

 She told me to first let yourself be open to whatever images you find, you may not know now what they mean, but soon, they’ll explain themselves. And second – be specific. But do not put words on your dream board, unless you are ready to see them happen. Be cautious to put too many words, or ones with negative connotations. This is true for photos, but a bunch of images of a guy, and you're going to manifest a bunch of them - but if you want a relationship, make sure you put images of couples.


My husband has been witness to the fact that these pictures manifest themselves in real life, and inevitably there’s always one “shock  value” image. This year, it was this odd house I’d put on the dream board, it just struck me. In March, we were on vacation in Carmel By the Sea, eating at this fabulous breakfast restaurant. I yelled, “STOP THE CAR.” Then proceeded to
  jump out and snap a picture – I had dreamt this image to reality and to this day, it reminds me of our “Baby Moon” weekend, just us and the dogs enjoying one of our last trips before baby.


When I think back on that first year of dream board creation, I realize that you can never create 100% happiness; and sometimes during the course of seeing our dreams to reality, we fall on tough times. But I’ve never been the type of girl to settle for turning lemons into lemonade. I’m a littlemore ambitious than that – and each year I attempt to turn my lemons into a
fabulous lemon meringue pie.


And now, if I were to see that girl, I’d thank her for the way she ever so slightly impacted my path in life, because I can whole heartedly say, while she might not have been on my dream board, she was fate’s way of ensuring I was on the right journey.

 Each year I have continued creating dream boards, and each year
I’ve gotten better and better at determining what dreams I can create, and which
should be left up to destiny. And each year, more and more pictures come to life
in ways I never anticipated.


Have a look see...

_

It happened over night.

We went to bed Saturday night just like any other, but when we woke up Sunday morning, our lives had changed forever.

My husband was the first one in the nursery. I knew something was gravely wrong when I heard him say, “Babe, you gotta come see this.”

Fear rose from the depths of my gut as I swung my legs over the side of the bed and let my foot start to tap around to find the ground. As usual, I found 67 pounds of golden fur where my foot should be hitting hard wood. I used the length of my gait to extend my legs out past the beast and trudged into the nursery. The beast was only steps behind me, his claws clacking on the floor.

A few moments later, all three of us were gawking at what we saw. There, standing on two feet, holding on to the rails, was a tiny little creature weighing 16.11 pounds. I immediately started laughing, as he looked absolutely pathetic. It was as if he’d gotten his first visitor at the jail in six months. I followed his eyes to his do-it on the ground. Clearly, it had fallen through the rails and he thought he’d attempt his hands at recovery.

A week prior we’d decided it was time to put our son in day care, just for a few hours a day, once a week. We have no intention for another child and want him to learn how to share, and play with other kids. The entire day I’d fretted that he was learning bad behaviors, like how to hit other kids with small toy cars. But he learned something much different – through osmosis.

Tuck had been “up on all fours” as they call it since the first week of December and many predicted he would crawl in a matter of days. He continued his usual banana slug maneuver until Wednesday, when he came home from daycare. He had now perfected the art of the army crawl. But unfortunately for him, his arm/leg coordination was still not enough for him to gain any real distance. We thoroughly enjoyed our un-baby proofed home in the days to follow.

So Sunday morning after detaching – or rather prying – his arms off the side rails, we set him on the floor in the nursery with a few toys and let him “play independently” while we took turns showering and filling our coffee cups.

I was sitting at the dining table blogging, while my husband was on the phone with his Dad. All of a sudden I felt something tugging at my pant leg. I looked down saw a little precious face, and grin which exposed two little white toofies. My husband said, “Dad I gotta go…”

Then there was utter and complete chaos.

He grabbed the drill and I grabbed the tie down package, I would say it was like Flight of the Bumblebee, except that is far too organized of a description.

I’m fairly certain the child landed super human powers. He would disappear and reappear on the opposite side of the house in a matter of seconds. Everywhere we went, he’d already been, and already destroyed with his laser stick. Nothing was sacred.

I went to grab a towel from the linen closet, only to find he’d already pulled out three and had used them as mops on the hallway floor. My husband and I bounced off each other, down on our hands and knees attempting to tip and pull at anything in eye sight.

I sprinted to find the baby gate and trapped the small creature inside the now baby-proofed nursery. I sat down on the edge our bed panting, regaining my breath. I heard my husband in the other room on the phone with his good buddy who is a die hard Niner fan, and whose wife is currently one week post-her due date, she was literally having contractions.

My husband was chatting up the Championship game which was about to kick off, and giving his friend last minute advice, “I know everyone says it, but it seriously flies by, I miss when he was so little. So call us when she goes in, if you need us to come let the dogs out and whatnot…”

I proceeded cautiously into the quarantined baby room, and suddenly exclaimed, “BABE...come quick!”

I heard him hang up the phone, “Oh no, are you okay?” He hollered back at me.

The creature had used his super human powers and managed to pull the crib, which was on locked wheels across the room trapping him and all his stuffed animal cohorts in a protected corner. Once again the chaos began. We were out of tie downs and had to get crafty, we firmly bolted the crib to the wall. Then we sat in awe, staring at the hulked out child, who had now pulled himself to a standing position and was attempting to walk across the room, crispy rice cereal finger tips attempting to help him keep his balance.

At almost the exact same moment we said, “That’s it. It’s over.”

And now our lives will never be the same. They aren’t kidding when they say it happens over night. And I’m blaming those kids at daycare.

Everyone told me, that I would be ready…that I would love each stage as it came. But I just wasn’t sure anything could ever feel the way it did then.

There was something indescribable about the moment I first met you. A poem couldn’t capture the instant desire I had to love you, and as cliché as it sounds, “miracle” doesn’t begin to describe what I thought about you. 
 
Back then you were so tiny that you only fit in newborn onsies. I remember the day they didn’t fit. After I packaged up all the clothes I’d picked out before I even knew what you looked like, I sat and cried. I’d never get that
back again…the absolutely tiny little finger and toes, the utter astonishment for all that we created, that somehow we were able to create life together, in the raw way that God intended it. I’ll never forget the way you instinctually
knew how to nurse and how you knew the familiarity of us. Just our scent comforted you even when your eyes were closed.

 And shortly after that, I began to get excited about the next phase, the one where you started to explore the world with your eyes, and started to smile at the slightest cheerful thing. Then you began to giggle, I remember the time your daddy was riding in the backseat with you, and all I heard was you laughing hysterically. He told me all he was doing was looking at you, and then looking away, and each time he turned his head in your direction and connected with your eyes, you started giggling.

A few weeks ago, sometime around when you started sitting up on your own, and eating Puffs using your new pinscher grasp, you started holding your bottle. At first daddy and I thought that was pretty cool, we could finally eat while you ate, no more taking turns at scarfing down dinner while it was hot. But even still, I couldn’t resist feeding you that last few ounces in the
nursery before nuh-nite. 

And only just a few nights ago, we snuggled on the chair in the nursery, and I started to sing “Twinkle Twinkle” like I always do, suddenly your –still small- but not so tiny- hand came up and reached for the bottle. I tried to send it back to the warmth of your fleece PJ’s but you resisted, you’re a big boy now, and you wanted to hold it.

 I called for your daddy and he came running in, and then my tears started flowing. The next day, I realized, that even with your new found independence, this is my new favorite age, and I’m so afraid of losing a minute of it. You are scooting around the floor, you play for hours, you bounce up and down to good music even though you aren’t moving with the tune, and you explore
 everything with your hands and your mouth, which keeps me on my toes. But the best part is that you are utterly and completely pure.

Everything you do is with good intention. You smile at everything, you giggle at everybody. You are a love, any person who meets you, falls in love with you, because you have a huge heart. You have no ill thoughts toward people, only curiosity. And you and Dennis seem to speak the same innocent language, he licks you and you reach for him and he snuggles his big lion mane into your belly and you start to laugh. I’m not sure what you two are talking about, but it’s one of the sweetest things I’ve ever witnessed.

I brought you into bed with daddy and I this morning, and I watched as you yawned and looked around, I wondered what you were thinking. You have your own little mind, your own thoughts, and someday you’ll make your own decisions, and maybe some of them won’t be the best decisions. 

I know, because I just know, that you will always be a sweet boy with a good heart, but I know that you will never be this pure again. 
 
You haven’t experienced disappointment, or heart break, or sadness, or loss…and for that you are full of happiness and excitement, wanting to experience anything that comes your way. You smile with your whole face, not that fake one people do for pictures…and you smile all the time, because you haven’t found a reason not to yet. You love the world and it loves you.

 I love this age Tuck, it’s my new favorite. And since I can’t hope you stay this age forever, here’s what I do hope…

 I hope you always giggle,
I hope you always dance when you hear a good song
I hope that if someday you hurt, it doesn’t last
long
I hope you always find the beauty in a relationship with innocence
I hope you give everyone that smile, the first time you meet them
I hope you laugh at stupid things
I hope you love unconditionally
I hope the little things in life make you happy
I hope you’ll always have who you are right now

Everybody says I’ll love each stage, I think they’re right.