One Lump or Two?

How cute is that!? To see some more of Ben's 9 month photos click here.

And yes, that's right, NINE months!! But that's the last time you'll hear me say that until the 23rd because he is still my little 8 month old boy for another week. Lately, in his want to catch up to his big brother ways, he's been pulling himself up on anything that he can. But after a few minutes, panic sets in and he realizes that he doesn't want to let go, but he can't move, and he looks at you with the most desperate pleading eyes saying "please!!?? stop smiling at me and pick me up!!"

In other news, it's finally starting to feel like spring around here.

Another hour of light does wonders for recharging my solar powered soul. Suddenly I feel like being out and about and having fun with my boys. And one of the wondrous things about two year old boys, is that they are immune to stereotypes, to gender roles, to being embarrassed, to the imaginary force that tells us who we have to be. No, they are just themselves. They can spend all day with uncombed hair, and greet guests at the door naked from the waist down, and not even give it a second thought. I love that about two year olds. And for the past couple of days my little two year old has been asking me to do something...something that I was certain I wouldn't hear asked until the day we have a little girl in this house, he asked for a tea party. I had just been smiling and nodding at this request for the past couple of days, until this morning, while standing on top of a dining room chair that he had dragged across the living room, cradling my Japanese teapot in his chubby little fingers, he asked to "have a tea party and wear pretty hats." I couldn't resist.

A tea party is somewhat of a waste without a plate full of cookies in the middle. You know those kind that come in the Pepperidge Farm "entertaining" pack, with the mix of shortbread, and chocolate dipped wafers, yep those would do the trick. And I'm not one to keep these on hand for my guests who happen to drop by with white gloved hands to sip tea with me on weekday afternoons, so an impromptu trip to the grocery store was in order.

By the time I had laid the blanket out on the living room floor, arranged a plate overflowing with Pepperidge Farm goodness, and set out miniature cups to be filled with "tea" , I realized that the only hats in this house were of the baseball kind. So we scrapped the hats in exchange for a few more cookies.

Wyatt helped me pour his tea (aka warm milk) into his cup, that he held so delicately with one pinky pointed outward, in a way that would make you think he had spent many an afternoon sipping tea with the ladies...er..men.

I asked him, "would you care for a cookie sir?" And in reply, in the most polite two year old voice, that has just the right amount of high pitched glee, he told me, "oh yes, thank you sir!"

He continued on like this, as we munched on shortbread cookies and in between sips of tea, exchanged chit chat. Wyatt made sure to call me "sir" every time he addressed me, and didn't even tattle on Ben when he tried to swipe cookies every time I looked away.


It was a delightfully magical way to spend a morning, sitting cross-legged on my living room floor. And it made me hope, that my boys would stay just a little bit sheltered from "the way things are supposed to be" and instead, enjoy with me, moments like this. And if they felt it was necessary, wear a pretty hat.

Wild and Precious

I have to remind myself from time to time, as I trudge through my days, do the grocery shopping and ponder about whether the socks on the floor are clean enough to wear again, that this isn't a practice run.

That this is it, my one wild and precious life.

No do-overs, no maybe next times, only now. I've decided to spend a little more time doing, and a little less time dreaming, thinking, planning, sitting around, (doing homework).

I've put more miles on my snow pants this winter, crawling through the powdery soft snow, or up to the top of the mountain, then I have in the past 6 winters put together that I've owned these snow pants. I've had plenty of snow find its way between my neck and my collar to make its chilly descent down to the small of my back. And I've slipped a time or two on my really (I mean really) not made for Alaska winter boots.

I've read the same book at bedtime, with Wyatt sunk into the pit of my crossed legs, two, three, even four times. And no longer are they boring to read through time and time again, because now, since the words play like a movie in my head, and I no longer need to glance at the pages, I can instead watch the face of my sweet little boy. Watch as his eyes light up, and a little smile creeps onto his face and turns up one side of his lip ever so slightly as I read through his favorite parts. And I can kiss his head as it leans into my chest and not even skip a beat, because the rhythm I mastered two read throughs prior.

And I'm starting to see, in this little boy of mine, wheels turning in his sharp as a tac mind. He has always loved being read to, but now he's the one doing the "reading" and I love to watch him and I can just see his pride swell when he turns the last page in the book that he is reading and watches me whoop and holler and congratulate him.

And when he reads to Ben, that's true heart melting material!

And in the spirit of taking on this wild and precious life, I did a little class skipping. But when it came down to sitting behind a desk taking notes and tapping my toes, or taking my little fireball on a dog sled ride, well, the choice was easy to make. My Aunt Marti is here visiting from New York, and My Dad arranged for her a private dog sled ride, and invited Wyatt to tag along. He talked about it for the whole week prior, with random outbursts exclaiming "Wyatt go dog mushing!!??" - And I of course, forgot my camera, so these are pictures compliments of my iphone.

He got his own little private ride and was on top of the world. All I heard about for the rest of the night was how "Jelly pulled Wyatt!"

And that wonderful Aunt Marti of mine came bearing gifts for my littlest, a beautiful handmade sweater and hat. There is nothing quite as cute as a tiny little knit on a baby, especially one that has been knit just for him.

I love seeing my family and extended family love on my little boys, smother them with kisses and hugs and see the love and happiness reflected back in both Wyatt and Ben's eyes.

I soak it in, the family, the snow, the books, the cuddling, the crawling on the floor until my knees hurt, the swimming on Saturdays. Because after all, this is it. And as Mary Oliver said, "Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"

Bits and Pieces

I think it's safe to say, that around here, it has been a lot of the same lately. Someone hit the repeat button and our track plays on the same day after day, carrying out the mundane tasks that keep us forever propelled in that forward motion.



It sure looks like we spend quite a bit of time sans clothes, but for the record, I usually have mine on, usually.

Unlike my Wyatt, who seems to need to be naked just to perform ordinary tasks, like eating, or taking a nap. But our allowed to be naked years are short, so I allow it. Plus how cute is a tiny little heiny running around the house?

I uploaded these pictures this morning, yet I've had to think all day about what to day. I suppose I really just wanted to share some pictures, so I apologize if this seems a little disjointed and scattered.

My mind has been running on overdrive lately. We've reached the midterm point for the semester and I'm happy to say that I have a 4.0. But with so much time spent with my head in a textbook, or my fingers pounding out a paper, I've wanted something creative to do, something a little more fun.

And it just so happened, in perfect timing, that one of the blogs I follow was doing a sew-along. So I decided, sure, why not. But now I have this beautiful completed project, with no one to put in it, because I made, my very first, little dress.



I absolutely love it! I wasn't sure about the fabric that I chose, but it's perfect. It makes my heart wish just a little bit harder that one day we will have a little girl to put in it, but just in case we never do, I made sure to try it on the only model I have who wouldn't object. Let's just say it fits an 8 month old boy perfectly...

And speaking of that perfect eight month old boy...he's the proud new owner of two bright, pearly white chompers. It is an almost impossible task to get a good clear picture of those first teeth nubs soon after they break free. But me being so wild and crazy, I tried.

The first attempt was close, but not quite, but I got lost in those deep blue eyes of his anyways.


And then I tried again after his bath, which only led to that little face scrunching up and his little bottom lip curling down in the cutest of frowns, followed by his "my world is falling apart" wail. But there they are, in all their glory, his little first teeth.

After I was done torturing him, I picked him up, wrapped in his soft white towel, and he wrapped his little arm around mine. And I told him that if he wanted to stop growing, I was ok with that, but I don't think he heard me..

Mush On

I may often complain about the icy cold, that somehow finds its way between the threads and seeps into my bones. And the darkness that seems to drag on forever. But balancing out that cold and dark, is the never ending beauty that is the landscape of Alaska.

The experience of trudging down to a snow covered frozen river, while fluffy white snowflakes drift down from the sky, to be part of a welcome team for one frost covered musher and his team of dogs as they cross the finish line in the Yukon Quest, is one of the experiences that my son, will come to think of as normal.

watching as the dogs crossed the finish line

Being able to get his hands on those worn out doggies, rub his glove covered fingers over their ice crusted faces, while whispering "good job doggies" in their ears, while spotlights illuminate the dark winter night, priceless.

After days of watching the online live tracker for the Yukon Quest, trying to find a musher that Wyatt would be awake for, the opportunity finally presented itself. I bundled him up and topped him off with his beaver fur hat, and we drove down to the river bank. The night was quiet, but a celebratory mood was spreading through the small crowd starting to form. We made our way down the steep trail to the banks of the Chena River, and found ourselves a spot, a front row view to watch Jodi Bailey, and her team of dogs, arrive home.

playing on a footbridge that overlooks the finish line while waiting for the musher to arrive

As she pulled in, to a crowd shouting and clapping, Wyatt quickly said "let's go!" and followed in behind her, in hot pursuit of the finish line himself. I quickly caught him by his hood, and redirected his little eager self around the other end of the gate. He stood just inches from the dogs, waiting, watching, before one of the handlers said, "go ahead, love on them!" And boy did he. Since it was so dark, my pictures aren't great. But he went from dog, to dog, stroking their heads and worn out bodies, leaning in and giving some of them hugs, for him it was magical.

Today, temperatures climbed to that tropical above zero mark. And I checked the tracker, just to see, since I knew the last four mushers were coming in today. One musher, was just 4 miles out. We bundled up again, this time inviting Daddy and Ben along, and headed down. This time around, Wyatt was the pro, he'd done this before. He showed Daddy the way down, scooting his little blue snow-suited bottom down the embankment, his hat slipping down over his eyes every few scoots. We waited and played, as once again that crystal like dust fell from the sky. When we heard "there he is" Wyatt quickly fell into place, his eyes transfixed as the dogs made their final approach.

The dogs tails wagged madly, high on the run and applause, and Wyatt shouted, "yay hamburgers!" as the handlers threw lumps of meat to the dogs. You could tell that they were quite happy to be within minutes of a nice long, well deserved, rest.




I like to think that we are lucky. Lucky to call this place our home; to experience the beauty and opportunity that this land presents; for our boys to see things that many kids will only read about... Lucky to be content, to live in a portrait of exquisite awesomeness that is our backyard, Alaska.

Fancy Pants and Other Shiny Things

You spend hours on your knees, coaxing them your way with shiny objects, high pitched sing songy name calling and enough praise to make someones head explode. And then...they take off.

After the pain in my cheeks had worn away from smiling so hard, I retreated to the kitchen to finish making the dinner that was abandoned when Wyatt called out "he's going!" And proceeded to smack his lips and snap his fingers as if he was calling a dog.

Thirty short seconds and a loud crash later, I remembered that not only is a crawling baby more fun, but also more work. But he seems so tickled with himself. So determined to catch up to his ball of fire brother and be a part of the action.

Sometimes I just want bottle his littleness, keep it forever, and hold him in my arms until his head relaxes and sinks into my arm, and his little pouty bottom lip hangs open like it does when he's deep asleep. Then kiss that little trying to grow hair head of his and soak it all in.

And lately I find myself doing a lot of peering around corners, and spying over the half wall into the living room, because something is developing around here. Something I've been dreaming of since day one when I first held Ben's slippery little body against my chest and Wyatt leaned in and kissed that minutes old wrinkled forehead. It's a little bit of camaraderie, right here on the very floor that just so recently was battleground central when it came to toys. Wyatt's will pass toys in Ben's direction (of course while stealing others) and say in the sweetest big brother voice at the first whimper sound out of Ben's mouth, "it's ok brother, Wyatt's here."

I'm such a sap, and I've been waiting for this, dreaming of the day that they will go zipping from room to room, leaving an explosion of toys in their wake. And granted, I may be getting a little ahead of myself here, but the magic is starting. And as Wyatt snapped and whistled for Ben to follow him to his room, Ben so happily obliged, lifting his little chubby knees as fast as he could, flashing his little toothless grin in Wyatt's direction.

I am one happy Mama, and although my little babies may be ever so rapidly transforming, changing and growing, I know that pretty soon, my arms will be full with brand new, tiny and pink little bundles of newborn baby, because I currently have 13 friends expecting this spring and summer, lucky 13. I can't wait to hold those little babies and feel their little fingers curl over mine as friends exclaim across the room about how tiny they are and that there is no way my babies were ever this small. Friends and babies are two of the best gifts in life, and when combined - an overload of love, truly one of the best things in life.

Faster Then a Speeding Bullet

Oh how I would love to sit and relax and watch the world pass by at a slow and comfortable crawling along pace. Yet for some reason, I hopped on the speeding bullet train instead, and the days fly by at an alarmingly fast pace, all the while my hair whipping in the wind behind me, and my to-do list flying right out the window. Because after all, who has time for to do lists.

This crazy train that I happened to accidentally on purpose board, was school. I do love it though. I love the structure that it adds to my day, the challenges it provides for my mind, and I even enjoy the little break that it gives me from the boys (shhh!) I love finding that crazy hectic that balances out the slow and mundane. It makes that don't get dressed until noon, nothing to do Sunday, seem almost like a day lounging in the sun with my feet dipped into a crystal clear ocean water. Ok not quite, not even close, but it really makes me appreciate the downtime. The curl up on the couch, haven't even thought about combing my hair type of downtime.

And if anything, school helps me prioritize my week. Although school usually falls somewhere near the bottom after the boys, Justin, sleep and coffee, at least it makes the list.

And now as we move into February, and the sun is lingering just a little longer in the cloudy gray sky. And that little red line on the thermometer is climbing, stretching, reaching, trying to hit the 20 degree mark (for now at least), and we, well we are soaking it in. The phrase most commonly heard around here most mornings is "Wyatt go outside play catch snow!?" Of course this is usually asked while he is stark naked except for a pair of cars winter boots on his chubby little feet. But we delay, and delay, with puzzles and books, and a little Go, Diego, Go. And then...we go outside.

The driveway and yard can be transformed into a different world through the mind of a two year old. He'll dig and crawl and make snow angels, and Ben watches from my arms, bundled up to an almost impossible to move stiffness, giggling with delight at his older brother's antics.

Our plate is quite full these days, but with a full plate, comes a full cup, and that is what feeds my soul on gray winter days, and fuels the fire when we need to burn the candle at both ends and just make it through the crazy -when-does-this-ride-stop week.

It's all about balance...at least that's what I tell myself.