Stuck

Busy Girl

Around and ’round

An amusing clip from our trip to Sea Ranch a few weeks ago.

Sasha’s first time in a swing

Embracing the Chaos

Sashita Bonita is 3 months old. She smiles and coos all the time, is facing forward in the bjorn, observes astutely and sometimes enjoys laying on her playmat. For a couple of minutes. If we’re lucky. She likes to be held all the time. This generally works out because we enjoy holding her. The company line is that she gonna be our last, so I am definitely relishing every moment I have with this girl.

That said, constantly holding a three month old while playing with a 15 month old, everyday, alone, for hours and hours is pretty freakin’ tiring. I often laugh out loud to myself at the ridiculous situations in which I regularly find myself.

To get Bodhi down for his nap, for instance, I have to set SBC down. Before I can even get half way down the hallway, she starts screaming at me. I take Bodeejhee to his room, close the door, turn on the white noise, change his diap, give him a kiss, lay him down and promptly exit. As I open the door, the soothing sound of running water pouring out of B-man’s iPod gives way to maniacal screaming and heart wrenching cries. I grab Bonita, stick a bottle in her mouth, wipe her tears and she is instantly calmed. I immediately hear Bodhi yelling at me from his room. He’s not down yet and he wants me back. Sasha starts screaming before I can even set her down. I grab Bodhi’s milk and run back to his room and find him jumping up and down in his crib. I offer him milk, he pushes it away, so I hold him and rock him and sing “Catch the Wind” by Donovan. He’s rubbing his eyes. I lay him down, he grabs his blanket, wraps it around him and rolls over. I can hear Sasha screaming over the white noise. Run back. Repeat.

Sometimes I have to repeat this dance a few times before Bodhi’s down and it’s so crazy it’s comical. But when the storm calms and Sasha’ sitting in my lap smiling at me, or crashed out on my chest, sucking my pinkie, I am soaring with love and delight, so thankful and blessed to have the opportunity to love these beautiful babies.

Bodhi is running. He can sign eat, more, all done, I love you, water, milk, tree, car, bath, shirt, socks, shoes, jump, ball, flower, butterfly, bird, outside, hi, bye, namaste and that’s all I can remember now, but I’m sure there’s more. He eats with a fork. He does impressions of cows, sheep, dogs, snakes, birds and mice. He can say Sasha, shoe (sometimes pronounced ‘shit’), uh-oh, mama, dada and is getting better at parroting many other things we say. Oh, he also says up.

I am growing heirloom tomatoes, artichokes, strawberries and cucumbers. I sprouted a couple pumpkin seeds a few weeks back and they are now plants in the garden. I am hoping to grow a few jack-o-lanterns in time for Halloween.

I am in court 3-4 times a week and am working on an appeal to the Third District.

I am tired and often sore. I long for vacation. I adore my children and love my wife. I am the luckiest man alive.

Too Cute for Words

It’s all about the sneeze at the 1:21 mark. I think I’ve watched it like fifty times already.

Walking Along

Kate went back to work this week. Taking care of two babies alone  requires a great deal of energy and patience. For all of our sake, it’s a good thing they’re cute.

Bodhi’s maturity and independence has made the transition quite manageable. After taking his first step several weeks ago, he started walking this week. He is also signing a lot and takes great joy in being able to communicate with us. He is affectionate, kind and playful.  I remain so grateful to have the opportunity to spend so much time with him everyday.

Sasha smiles when we talk to her.  She is very pretty and I kiss her often.  For the first few weeks of her life, she was quiet, sleepy and very low maintenance. Then, she entered of phase characterized by protracted sessions of maniacal screaming. She now seems to be settling into life a bit and I am very, very fond of her.

Courthouses are nasty, depressing places. I do my best to inject a modicum of kindness and compassion into this festering cauldron of conflict and social dysfunction. Often, inspiring and heart-warming results ensue. One of my clients, for instance, spent forty years of his life addicted to meth. I met him in jail and told him that everyone’s already counted him out and that the easy thing to do is just do his time, get out and start using again. But I also told him that he’s got a lot of life to live and that we only get to be alive once and that there’s too many beautiful things in this world to waste away in prison, on meth. One hundred days of sobriety later, he attributes his recovery to my words of encouragement, and those contained in the Bible.

Of course, not all stories are this warm and fuzzy. Many of my clients are lying assholes. And this is precisely why I delight in being able to come home to this by midday.