Pistol and Sword

Every normal man must be tempted, at times, to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin slitting throats. - H.L. Mencken


So if you've been reading my blog or spent anytime with Bowie, you will know that he is currently obsessed with swords. He has two* and is almost always holding one (he leaves it in the car at most public places, though). He talks about them all day. And makes any object of length a sword as well. He's SO into weapons. I think about this a lot, with sword poked at me, gun shooting at me. I make peace with it everyday. Because I can see that his soul is more pure than mine, that he does not need to be taught how to be good. I no longer confuse his talk about killing as any sign of his character. It is an exploration of some of the greatest issues of people and society. The other day he saw a flashing and noise making set of pirate sword and pistol. And he so, so wanted it. He sat in the aisle of the drugstore and pushed the activating buttons over and over again.

The sound is grating to my soul. It is so hard for me to hear it. But there is also a part of me that has grown to love his pretend play. He loves to dress up. He practices moving gracefully with his weapons. We have all started to engage in pretend fighting, which I could not have imagined myself doing or enjoying a year ago. And the night before we watched the new live action Peter Pan movie (which seems wonderfully faithful to the book, though we're only a couple of chapters into it). So the idea of introducing the pirate to our band of characters appealed to me.

As a photographer, I loved the idea of the images these would make. So I made a deal. I offered Bowie his first paying gig as my model. As he gets older I really look forward to our collaboration in photography. He knows that he can help me do something I really love. And we do things that he has fun doing. I have written about how photography is part of how I practice observant guidance in my parenting. But it also is part of the way I show reverence for Bowie. And it is part of my meditation in unconditional joy and love, which the unschooling philosophy has helped me experience more deeply by helping me shed so many fears. When I look at Bowie through the lens, I am seeing him so clearly and without distraction. When I look through these photos again to edit them, I see things I didn't notice before and I know more about my son and experience such a strong sense of gratitude. It repairs my pistol scratched soul.

*now three swords, one pistol, one fazer, and one lightsaber...on to star wars now, must make jedi cloaks

Farmer's Market

A glorious day, but now pouring rain. This has been an amazingly mild spring and summer so far. Very wet. Which is oh so good for this land that usually is in drought and 100+ temperatures by early May. We've been spending a lot of time indoors, more from the mosquitoes that are thriving in this wetness, than the actual wetness itself.

But today we spent the later afternoon at our local farmer's market. Bowie immediately stripped down to his green undies and brand new dancing skeleton Vans to participate in the mass enjoyment of the dancing fountain. I must, must return there with him some evening and take photos. The kids had a blast chasing the water, trying to predict when the spouts would shoot, positioning themselves just so in the arch of the sprays. People, all kinds of people, sat around and watched the children play. It was clearly a place of joy for everyone. After 2 hours of this, we went over to the stage to enjoy some live music. Bowie laid down on his tummy, chin in hands, front row and watched the band for about 6 songs. Then he took off into the large yard and attached himself to a group of older kids, joining in on their goal of filling a grate with gravel from the walking paths. I sat 100s of feet away and watched from afar. I never took my eyes off of him. I saw that he was having his own experience, one that I can guess at but that I do not share with him. It was sad and wonderful. His world is bigger than me now. It is a loss for me. But the gain is so amazing; he is knowing and trusting himself, seeking out people all around him.

He had 3 or 4 involved conversations with adult strangers. He initiated all of them. He offered them food, showed them his new shoes, and smiled the most heart meltingly charming smiles. Even kissed some of them. This usually is received with delighted perplexed expressions. It’s sweet. (Sometimes he is greeted with annoyance and discomfort, though.) I think it’s wonderful that he still trusts the world. I watch over him like a hawk, my mother’s anxieties undeniable. But watching him in his confidence also sets me at peace with the world. Most people will respond to true interaction with kindness. And that’s too good too miss out on.

We were quite almost the last people at the market, the tents were gone, the fountain danced only with itself, the stage was silent, the bocce ball players had ridden off on their bikes, and the clouds were rolling in. I wished I had my camera. The pink, grey, blue, white, black…Bowie, still in only his undies and shoes, could not bear to leave. He’d been rolling in the grass, carrying rocks against his belly, skimming over brick walls (belly scratched), and he couldn’t be happier as Chris and I commented that everything he was doing looked so utterly uncomfortable. But he chose the fun. Because that’s too good to miss out on. Hmmm, I think I’ve realized my lesson from Bowie today. Notice and enjoy the things that are too good to miss out on.

Like the farmer's market.

In His Genes

I love that my father in law took a soaked rainy walk and my mother in law happily painted Bowie's arms for him. He started off on himself, but soon enjoyed asking Grandma to give him polka dots and then rubbing them him. They had so much fun together. We went swimming, to the park and toy store. And she played played played. She was asked to say what Tuba, our dog, says at least 300 times in a row at dinner last night. And she answered everytime with a grin, though sometimes a weary one.

Every summer, after her schoolyear of teaching 5th graders, Chris's mom spends a few days with us before going on her vacations...this year Lake Tahoe, Hong Kong, Thailand, and home to Illinois, and camping in the New Mexico mountains. Isn't that amazing? We have a fantastic collection of postcards we receive from all of her adventures.

Bowie is blessed to have such fun and loving grandparents. My parents live near us and Bowie spends the night with them so happily and expectantly. He loves to ride on his Gramps' riding lawnmower and cook with Nonnie. It is so wonderful to see him at such ease with the other important people in his life. It makes me love my folks in a new way.

Tagged

I'm not totally blog savvy but I'm learning bit by bit. I was recently blog tagged by my multi-talented friend afar, Amanda Keeys

So here they are, my top 5 boys and girls names (minus the couple we would choose ourselves, just in case we have another baby one day):

Girls:
Finley
Bella
Fern
Wren
Jude

Boys:
Taggart
Jude
Finley
Forrest
Bodhi

So I'm taggin some of my friendly bloggers:
Chelsea
Sophie
Raquel
Erin
Jennifer

Forgive me :) and I look forward to reading your lists.

Green

We had Bowie’s Birthday Party this morning at a local park. Bouncy house and bubbles and green. These elements were the designed by Bowie. Great fun with great friends and family. My heart rises up every year when the people we love sing Happy Birthday to my son. He was ever SO excited this year. It is wonderful to be around such open enthusiasm and expectation. There were times today when he was so excited that he was on the brink of hysteria.

Bowie's request for cake was that it be chocolate with green icing. Yesterday we had a big family shopping trip to the party store. Chris bought green props and produced this amazing birthday cake. Every day I love that man more and more. He is an amazing papa and my best , best friend that makes it easy for us all to grow and be better.

Birthday

Bowie’s third trip around the sun is complete. He will never be 2 again. I feel wonder, sadness, and joy as he grows.

Here he was just moments after his birth. How can that little soft thing (8.5 pounds, 22.5 inches) be my same little man?


Last night after escargot, crab claws, artichoke and roasted carrots (menu created by Bowie) we had cake and watched the video of Bowie’s birth. My friend Kendal had been with us and wonderfully was able to capture that brief, intense time for us. We have watched it every year. This was the first time that Bowie was able to really respond to it. He was obviously excited, asking questions, and covering his smiling, amazed mouth in rare self consciousness. I suspect that there will be a time when he chooses not to watch this with us. But I hope that he will carry this knowledge about life and love around until he does wish to see it again. I know I must have asked my mother 100s of questions about being born. This morning Bowie woke up saying, “I was born in this house.” Oh my. I can never move, can I? This feels like a sacred place to me.

I remember behind me, the door to our backyard open. The sun setting. My being growling and groaning and moaning, “Mama!” “Come!” “Push!” in the dark, quiet ring of family and friends.

My voice immediately soft and sweet as I welcomed Bowie to my breasts. His little bottom in my hand, I felt before I saw that he was the boy I had been expecting. I had never doubted my instincts but it was still a wonderful surprise.

Our dog, Tuba, right there with her little nose peering over the edge of the tub to witness this family event.

My mother, on her birthday, cutting the umbilical cord after it stopped pulsing.

Chris, who had never carried a baby before, effortlessly cradling Bowie with one arm, a born father.

My sister feeding me homemade lasagna once we moved to our bedroom. Her daughter, just one, on our bed petting her new cousin.

The doula standing outside the shower, handing me shampoo and comb, wrapping me in a towel. I felt so cared for. Hours later, after the examinations and they started up the laundry, 1am, I walked them to the door swaying with my swaddled son in my arms, to say goodbye. They smiled and said it looked like we had always been a family, like this is always the way it had been. Angels. They are angels.

Chris and I giggling as we were left alone in our home. Life forever changed.

Awesome. Not in the 80s way, but in the truest sense of the word. Completely awesome. And it has been ever since…

Birthing Bowie

Birthing Bowie
Originally uploaded by autumn fawn

I want to tear the computer apart to find the birthstory I wrote after Bowie was born. But I really don’t want to spend tonight doing that. I want to remember being in labor. So here are some random memories I have had throughtout the day, 3 years before Bowie was born.

• Walking and walking around the neighborhood. Never making it very far. Stopping during contractions to hang in Chris’ arms.
• Folding clothes, labelling Chris’ drinking cup with the label maker, posting to my online natural childbirth group.
• Hugging my midwife, GB Khalsa when she arrived.
• Being told to watch a movie and rest. But never could. I was so angry that Chris could sleep. Furious that he could sleep. I didn’t sleep for 60 hours by the time Bowie was born.
• Rolling around on my exercise ball (which unfortunately hasn’t been used since).
• Chris filling the birthing tub with too hot water. My body was red and steaming. I wish he would write a post about managing the birthtub water temperture and level. He’s funny.


More tomorrow, Bowie’s 3rd birthday.

Wishes Afloat

This is a photo that miraculously captures the first time Bowie successfully blew the seeds off a dandelion. (Good practice for blowing out birthday cake candles!) May all your wishes come true, sweetie.

I am so thankful for my camera. I am so thankful for the chance to see these days over and over again. I think I will remember. I try to make time to reflect and absorb. But as much as it feels like I could never forget this perfect moment, this monumental achievement, I do forget. Sometimes immediately, sometimes slowly. But through these 1000s of photographs, I can go back in some way. And he can go back too. He sits in my lap and looks at these photographs and we talk about what we remember. Which I think is important both cognitively and emotionally for him. It is essential for me.

I want to share this article from the Natural Child Project. It starts:
As a parenting counselor, I often get calls from bewildered and confused parents who say, "My baby was so angelic. Then one day the "monster" came out. I did everything right. He was born peacefully, he is still nursing on demand, still sleeps next to me, and I carried him all of the time. Why is he becoming so difficult now (at age 2, 3, or 4)?"

What has happened is actually a wonderful result of a relationship of trust and a deep bonding fostered by healthy attachment. The young child trusts her parents absolutely, and in that trust she rightly assumes that they are on her side and that she is safe and welcome to spread her wings. The way young humans spread their wings, however, is not always convenient to adults.

It is not convenient when the toddler needs to play with mud, experiment with water, take things apart, exert much energy or when he needs to be watched, held, and read to for hours. Most attachment parents do accept inconveniencing with love when the child is an infant and a baby. It is not convenient when the baby drools on us, gets us wet, messes the floor with food, or wakes us up seven times a night - yet in our trust we can see that those are her needs, and in our commitment to provide attachment, we accept those needs with love and without judgment. We don't try to teach our baby to stop drooling or to stop crying for her needs to be met. The transition from helpless baby to active toddler can mislead parents into a change in approach, from one of total trust and acceptance to one of teaching and struggle.

Last week, Bowie couldn't get to sleep with Chris (who puts him to sleep 90% of the time) and asked for me. Once I laid down next to him, he immediately softened his body and put his head to mine. I remembered those early days of his life when I would watch him sleep for hours and hours, barely able to tear myself away from him. That night, after he fell asleep, I sat and looked at him with that same wonder and love. I reminded myself that he is barely more than a babe despite all his skills and knowledge.

We are all vulnerable. We all need unconditional love. We all need patience and respect. No matter how old. Especially at 2. And still at 3.

The Sword

The real sword, made out of metal (foam). He wears the scabard at all times except to sleep. It is adorable. It really is. He is being wonderfully gentle and graceful with it (though I did suffer an accidental hit to the face while getting him out of his carseat.) And he is elated. So glad I listened to him and let his joy guide me.

Bouncy House

Last night we went to the dreaded but fun Toys 'r Us to get a bouncy house for Bowie. I've always had a hard time picturing the kind of people that buy bouncy houses. It seemed so extravagant. But after paying more than $100 to rent one, we decided that as much as Bowie loved to jump, this would be a far from extravagant but rather practical purchase. We had our eye on a specific bouncy house with two slides and the websites all said that they were out of stock. So I made the calls and found ours.

We set it up in the front yard twice today! Once after returning from a fun playdate at Mayfield Park. We walked down to our neighbors house and invited them to play. Then again after Chris got home from work. There was an attempt at a family stroll but that didn't go so well, you can ask the young woman on whom's curb I sat, craddling my hysterical son pleading to return to Toys 'r Us to get a bigger sword who was clad only in striped training underwear and a scabard. And yes, we did buy the boy a sword and he has had it in his hand at every opportunity. More about this later...

Meet Motorcycle Joe

I think I have mentioned Motorcycle Joe previously, but I think he deserves a full introduction. Motorcycles are a former love of Bowie's. While his interest in the vehicles have waned, Bowie has not abandonned his very special friend, Motorcycle Joe. He lives in Africa. Is 4 years old (like Bowie, hee hee). He has 2 babies. He has a drumset like Neil Peart's (Bowie's other VERY special friend, who also happens to be the drummer for Rush). He kills Mimims with a sword and spear. He calls to talk on the phone with Bowie. He is coming to Bowie's birthday party (as is Neil Peart).

Oh, what an imagination. The photo above is Bowie walking in front of some old offices in Bertram, TX. Bowie said that Motorcycle Joe lives there.

Letters to My Son

I've just written a tearful letter to Bowie. I've been feeling a bit sad all day. Lying on my bed reading a short story collention about motherhood put me over the edge into real tears. And I pulled out paper and pen, sat at the window where he was born, and wrote. I don't know when I'll give these emotional, sporadic letters to Bowie. I just know that I feel this need to be able to share myself and share my journey as his mother with him. I envision him reading these letters, splashed with my tears, as a young man. I hope they convey how fiercely I love him. I hope they convey that I am human and on a journey.

I am just remembering a conversation I had with my mother when I was a teenager. I told her that I wanted to write letters to my children. So that I'd remember who I was before they were born, when they were little, during good times and bad, and so that they could know me, know my intentions and hopes and ideals and struggles before they grew away from me. Perhaps I was telling her that I needed to know her more. That I needed to know what being a mother was like. I wanted to know how SHE felt when I looked out the window at my beautiful, young, long haired mama hanging clothes on the line. I remembering thinking she was so beautiful and that I wanted to be a young longhaired mama too. But as a young woman I was beginning to have a glimmer of understanding that motherhood was much more complex than that.

I finished my letter to Bowie, "You made me a mama- thank you. Perhaps one day you will make another woman a mama. I want you to understand what a gift that is." And I never want to forget what a gift it is.

Swords Everywhere

A sword. This letter opener from Mexico is his sword. Every stick offers to be either a sword, a spear, or drumstick. Today he said, "I feel happy when I kill people with my sword." Gut wrenching. But I know it is in direct response to my opposite words about how I'd feel if I killed a person. So I didn't let myself go into fear and sadness when he said these things to me, when he said he was killing me with his sword. Because he never once touched me with his weapons. And seconds later his sword was magic and he'd bring me back to life. Years ago, months ago I would have been filled with fear that this exploration into weapons and violence had to be controlled or managed in some way. But now I am feeling such trust and compassion for him as he works through it. And that feels good.

Lake Tahoe

Always Drumming
Originally uploaded by autumn fawn.

I'm a mountain girl. It thrills my soul. The air gets so crisp. Driving along a clear cold river makes me hang my head out of the window.

So, I am utterly in love with Lake Tahoe. The rocks lining the lake. The snow. The snow! The round view. I just utterly loved it and daydream about my next visit...

More vacation photos here http://www.flickr.com/photos/autumnfawn/sets/72157600087702905/

Spring Break

We are in beautiful Tahoe for a spring fling in the snow. It is gorgeous and easy going and perfect (except for the loss of our friends Drew and Katy who were not able to come due to a family emergency). Photos to follow of course (assuming my camera allows).

Peace Loving Mama and the Sword

another excerpt from my mama friends buddy group. this is about hitting.

"it really takes everything i have to react in a sane way (and mostly i mean internally). the unconditional parenting has just been invaluable to me lately. i don't always succeed at responding in a loving, kind, centered place immediately. sometimes i hold him too tight. sometimes i yell, my voice much deeper and louder than i'd wish. sometimes, i am just paralyzed by sadness and fear. but the process of checking myself, making sure i ask how i look and feel to him at that time when he needs me, is coming to me more and more quickly. today bowie told me...god, my stomache just turns to stone as i think of it, "i want guns, knives, swords, and spears to hurt and kill people." shocking. totally shocking. how he has picked up on the power of these objects in the very few and limited experiences he's had is simply mindblowing. i am really trying to get into a place where i can easily accept these exploratory statements of his just as that. he is going to toy with these ideas, try to imagine the power of life and death. it still makes me very sad to hear him talk through these imaginings. it makes me so sad to see him trying out violent power, hitting or kicking (though it is always controlled in some way, reigning himself in somewhat, but obviously trying to find out what it feels like to hit and hurt others). but it's natural, right? i'm beginning to warm up to the idea of getting him a little wooden sword. he wants one (saw it in a gorgeous little waldorf store). and i tell him that i'm thinking about it. which i totally am. he is going to explore it either way right? so why not show him that i love him and trust him enought to support his exploration? .........some of the stuff that has been occupying my mind lately."

so i am still working on accepting that he is working through this. i am loving reading kohn's unconditional parenting (though chris took off with it to seattle and now has read more than i have.)

Self Portrait at the Potty

Please click on my photo to see it on flickr with notes on it...

I was so excited that I was with Bowie when he drew this. Not just in the house but right next to him because there is a chance I might not have grasped what he was creating, his first little self portrait. When I took my art education classes, early education classes we looked at loads of drawings like these. Somehow, there is a collective knowledge about drawing that leads the majority of children to go through this step. Bowie has never seen someone else draw this way. It is fascinating to me.

Animal Masks

We found some great animal masks at the San Antonio zoo a few weeks ago. Bowie is totally immersed in pretend play, at virtually all times. It is fun but confusing trying to remember who he is (a cat, a baby, a mama dog, Neil Peart, Motorcycle Joe, a lion, a mimim, a t-rex, Aunt Destiny growing a baby) and who I am (a mama cat, a papa dog, a baby, Michele, Motorcycle Joe, a mimim). He has the littlest squeeky voice for most of these characters. So fun.

Rawk On

Rawk On, Little Lady
Originally uploaded by chasingfun.

This photo was taken by a fellow flickr'er at a show on 6th Street during sxsw. We saw lots of live music last week (well, for a family with 2 year old it was a lot for us.)

Pouring and Goo

Today we didn't leave the house once. I like to do that on Mondays. Our weekends are always pretty busy so I like to just hang about the house and tidy up to start the week off. I had three loads of dishes to wash (by hand, no machine) after a dinner with friends last night. So Bowie spent a lot of time in the kitchen at his low table. We made cornstarch goo. He loved mixing the food colors. And he did scooping practice with lentils. He even tried using his left hand, quite successfully too. He quietly put his hands in the lentils, which happily reminded me of the movie Amelie. Then he started throwing lentils (just one little handful) so we moved onto using the dust pan and broom. A fun day.