Home again, home again - (Ithaca trip, Part I)

Last Friday we descended the long slow hill into Ithaca and arrived home.

Ithaca has been my place of belonging through many incarnations of self: awkard, bony-kneed kid; bewildered teenager; black sheep returned home in my early twenties after a disastrous marriage and a long disconnect from family;  thirty-something graduate student leaving a mathematics program in Seattle to study Ecology at Cornell. It was in this last life that I was most happy with myself and with life and where I met my husband Joe. If one could just get an academic job wherever they wanted to be in the world, I'd be so happy to come home again. I love my house and my yard and my neighborhood in Columbus, but I miss the stars at night. And the 200 waterfalls. And the community of family and friends who have loved me steadfastly through every one of my incarnations.

Our "vacation" this year is the week and a half that I had off between teaching that we are spending with family. Although it's been wonderful, it's been quite a whirlwind of activity. As I might have mentioned one or two times, Taran is no picnic to travel in the car with, so we have not visited since last September. As a consequence there is an insanely long list of people that I'm trying to connect with in a very short time and we have had 2-3 different social activities every day since we arrived. By this morning, Taran was gray and yawning and just wanted to be held so we stuck him in our new/old toddler frame backpack (thank you, Jennifer!!) and walked and walked and walked.

I have to say, I am so pleased that my family and friends are getting some time to know him and love him up and I'm hoping that all of our adventures have been worth it for him. Judging from his face in most of the pictures I've taken, I'm guessing he hasn't minded.

When we arrived on Tuesday, he was so overjoyed to be out of the car and able to go far a walk.

He hopped and ran and even tried to skip with a little coaching from Grammy Pauly.

There is nothing quite as wonderful as seeing your child overjoyed to be with family.

Not even a sudden rainfall could dampen his spirits.

The next morning we went to the Ithaca Farmer's Market which is truly a wonder for such a little town. There is stall after stall of some of the most beautiful produce I've ever seen, artfully laid out in big woven baskets and strewn across hand-woven cloths.

Taran wasn't super thrilled at the idea of getting back into the carseat, but a little coaxing (ok, I admit it, bribing with a cookie) and a handful of brightly colored tissue paper did the trick and we were soon on our way.

At the market, Taran was completely mesmerized by a young violin prodigy, who's playing was jaw-dropping. My one regret about getting a used older-model Canon is that it has no video capacity. But at least I captured a few shots.

After the market, we headed up to Auntie Jenny and Uncle Matty's for breakfast. Jenny had a whole bag of wonderful gifts for him including funny hats and books. Although he was happy to snuggle up with Jenny and check out a new story....

 .... Grammy Pauly seemed to be more into staying inside trying out the new loot.

Taran was infinitely more excited in that moment to tromp through Matt and Jenny's patch of black-eyed Susan's and sort through their wood pile.

The rest of the trip I'll have to tell more about in another post. I'm going to head out the door now and go buy a beautiful bottle of wine at my favorite wine shop. And tonight Joe and I are going to drive up in the hills outside of town with our wine and a blanket, snuggle up close, and gaze at the stars.

Tragedy averted

The other day I stuck Taran in the car to take him somewhere, but honestly I can't even remember where because the whole memory was wiped out by one beacon panic moment of almost losing the beloved K Bear.  K is an essential part of every aspect of our day now - accept for maybe baths - and I find myself in an almost daily panic about what would ever happen if he were to be lost. We bring him on every car trip be it five minutes or five hours and K has helped get us through many a hairy car ride. So anyway, we were driving somewhere and I was late, partially because I was running around the house looking for our trusty pal. When we got out to the car, I threw him on the roof (yes folks, gasp at my thoughtless blunder because you can probably guess where this story is going) so I could strap the little guy into his carseat. And then I drove away. Fast. And didn't return for several hours.
By the time we got home from....Ah yes, it's all coming back to me now, the annual food truck festival....it was bedtime. And if K is a trusty partner-in-crime for many a fun activity throughout the day, he is an absolute vital man-on-board for the journey into dreamland. As soon as we pulled Taran out of the car and I didn't see K lying beside him I knew something was terribly wrong. This is the moment I have been dreading; trying to explain to my two-year-old son the inevitable loss of his beloved companion by his scatterbrained Mom. If there is one image that might help you know how this little bear is cherished, think of Taran sitting in his little chair in the living room corner, caressing K's fur and kissing his worn nose, exclaiming "That's nice" after each tender smooch (which is what we say I guess when we see him do this) and "Love you". This is a multiple-times-a-day occurrence.  Before Joe could even fully process what happened I was half-yelling "get him in the house and ready for bed. I've got to find  K Bear!". This is so ridiculous. We're talking one foot of grungy, fluffy faux fur, stuffed with polyster and I felt like I had just ax-murdered a dog. I was in such a panic it took me five minutes to figure out the best course of action: Drive down the street? I might whiz by too fast and not see him. Walk? Too slow.  I even got as far as pulling my car half way out of the driveway then jumped out to grab my bike instead, then realized my car was actually hanging out in the street so I dropped my bike (in the street of course) to pull the car back into the driveway. Basically, I'm just really hoping the neighbors weren't watching this fiasco.
As it turns out, K was lying in the yard three houses down. A few major tire tread marks across his nose and belly, but otherwise intact. I even had time still to handwash him, throw him through the spin cycle, whir him in the dryer on high until he was fluffy and toasty and still be upstairs to read Taran one final bedtime story and get him down for his usual bedtime. With K of course. Now the next time I bring up to Joe that we really need a back-up K, maybe he won't scoff at me.

"Eat. In the mouth."

Today was a super exciting day in the Tien household - we took Taran's new birthday wheelbarrow and harvested our first potatoes and beets out of our garden! All of us were equally excited to push aside the mounds of straw and dirt, revealing the pale, speckled kennebecs hiding in the soil. Taran was jumping all around calling out "Get another big one! Get another big one!" Many of them are still just the size of a fava bean, but a few were quite large and are now sitting on our counter waiting to be roasted with lemon thyme from our herb bed and candy onions that we picked up at our farmers market yesterday morning.

It's been an exhausting week trying to catch up with all the work we couldn't do when we were in Cleveland last week to escape the heat during the week long power outage. Joe and I are both feeling like limp rags so a kick-it-around-the-house weekend has been just perfect. Plus you never know what amazing things you'll see right in your own backyard.

Merry-Go-Round

Happy July 4th everyone!

It's been an eventful week around here so I've been a bit remiss about my blog entries. Last Friday night, an insane storm blew in and knocked down trees throughout the city and beyond. Not surprisingly we lost power, but when it still hadn't turned on by morning - and between temps in the upper 90's, no electric, and a toddler - Joe and I made a split decision to pack up the car and the child and all the food we could salvage and take the 2.5 hour drive North to Joe's parents house. That was 7 at a.m. and by 8:45 the wheels had hit the pavement and we were off. We live in a 1915-built house in an old neighborhood that is notorious for losing power for up to a week at a time.

 Once we were able to hear the news we found out that 660,000 people were out of power within the surrounding area and the outages are ongoing 6 days later. Although I received a text from neighbors this evening letting me know the power was back on, we decided to stay put through the weekend. As it turns out two of Joe's closest high school buddies are also in town this week with their wives and kids who are all within week/months of Taran's age. Plus, we planned to have family drive down to see us on Saturday to celebrate Taran's second birthday, but it seems sort of silly to have them drive down in two days when we are right here, right now. So anyway, we walked into the house on Saturday morning and my father-in-law informed us that our area of Columbus and surrounding states had experienced a "Dorito". I was a bit bewildered to what he was referring but it turns out there is a storm system called a "Derecho". ("You say Dorito, I say Dorecho"...la la la). Who knew? No one I've talked to has ever heard of such a thing so I certainly don't fault the man for being a bit perplexed by the name. But it was quite serious and winds reached upwards of 90 miles an hour. I guess that explains it. It couldn't have been a more perfect week for the power outage to happen - I'll spare you the details and just say that any other week it would have been impossible to leave with work, but this week, all the stars aligned or something and Joe and I were both able to leave with not too much finagling. And Taran couldn't be more thrilled. As far as he's concerned every morning at Ye Ye and Nai Nai's is Christmas morning. So he's been waking up at 5 am and immediately asking to see them. I keep trying to explain that waking up earlier won't help him to see them any faster, because despite the force and enthusiasm of their love for him, they still manage to sleep until a reasonable hour so he might as well do the same. So far, this message has not struck home. I do love that he loves being around family so much. He's just been this radiant ball of joy since we got here. An exhausted ball, but a radiant one.

He's just as happy as can be as long as his posse is near.

Sometimes his unbridled enthusiasm can lead to some sticky spots. This seems to be particularly true when it concerns his interactions with other toddlers. I love that he wants to "hold the hand" of everyone he meets. And for those who are old enough to be amused by this, it's no problem. Yesterday at the playground, for example, he heard a couple of boys talking on a platform high above us. He of course wanted me to take him up to investigate and before I had even finished climbing the ladder he said to one of the eleven-year olds perched up there..."hold the hand?"

Luckily, the boy was super friendly and great with little ones and was totally pleased to hold Taran's hand and play with him.

I think the distinguishing feature for when it's been ok and when it hasn't comes down to body size. Taran will very nicely ask to hold the hand, but then, without waiting for an answer, he will snatch the unsuspecting victims hand up and shoot off in a mad tear, unwilling participant bumping along behind him. Not surprisingly, this has led to a few tears being shed by the small, hapless participee in question (yes, I know, it's not a word and spell check is yelling at me, but you know what I mean). To see Taran's face in response is totally heartbreaking. He's totally crushed and upset that whatever friend he's wanting to be near is a) crying and b) doesn't want to hold his hand. Ugh. This is not one of the joys of parenting. Because how do you explain to a not-quite-yet two-year old about boundaries?! I was totally in an out-of-perspective funk after this happened several times this week with different children, thinking "Are these the kinds of experience that put a black spot on our souls? When our joy and our passion run face first into a wall, is that how we get jaded?" Yes I know, I know, totally melodramatic. Blame it on the sleep deprivation. But seriously. Our kids will have to have their feelings crushed sometimes in learning about the world and learning to exist harmoniously in relationship to others. As I was driving along pondering all this one day, a song came on my cd player that the whole family loves, including Taran (It's the best when he tries to sing along without knowing the words and his mouth is opening and closing in an imitation of singing with a lot of made up words thrown in). The words reminded me that life is a double-edged sword and that the beauty in life can only be experienced because we also know pain. Somehow it felt like Taran was sending me a message in loving the song. Like he understood what the song was saying and that he chooses to eat life in all it's complexities. I know... deeper than a two year old is capable of. But I felt better after I had the thought.

Wild Child

It's been a slow week on picture taking - I guess I've been busy just living. Since getting my new camera and starting this blog, I've found myself sometimes so absorbed in trying to document a moment  I'm not actually participating in it.

It's something that has been on my mind quite a bit. Somewhat serendipitously, I was recently reading a post by a fellow blogger (who's reflections on life and writing style I enjoy very much - and the food! This woman understand beautiful food!) and she shared a link to a TED talk given by one of my favorite food photographers, Penny De Los Santos. In the talk, Penny raises this exact point when she talks about setting down her camera to be with her dying mother at her bedside and make her one last bowl of homemade chicken soup before she dies. The talk is only about 12 minutes long, and worth checking out when you have the time. Penny's photography is stunning - she's the only photo contributor to Saveur magazine who's name I actually know - but more lovely yet is her view on life. She understands how to "savour life intensely" and that is something that I have deep admiration for.

Although I write about the dichotomy between capturing life and engaging in it this isnt' always my experience with my camera. Sometimes I see the world differently BECAUSE I have my camera there - I see the small details in things I might never have noticed otherwise. And without my camera today I would have missed this moment

or this one as he swallowed the felt sticker on the watering can that I had just told him not to eat.

Man that determination! And boy is he getting better every day at telling us exactly what he does and DOES NOT want. This past week in particular he has been such a wild child. Suddenly it's like his brain is firing on overdrive. Every night it has been taking him over an hour to fall asleep and he's been popping up at 5 am. Why? Why?! Especially on my first week of teaching when I've been up every night until midnight writing my lectures. 

There is much sweetness in the mania - lots of full-on-mouth kisses and nuzzles, spontaneous bursts of joyful laughter and welcome hugs. But also, such defiance, such barnacle-ing. The best is when he does something he KNOWS is naughty, like throwing all his food off the tray and then afterwards shaking his head and scolding himself before I've even had a chance to open my mouth "No throwing, no throwing". That's right buddy, so why are you doing it?!

Yesterday was another 5 a.m. day and by 6 a.m. he was already whipping himself into a frenzy, running in circles, laughing like a crazed man one minute and then bursting into tears the next when I wouldn't let him play with a bottle of methialate. I know I've said this before, but he's really not a cryer. So when he has a total melt-down over something so tiny and random, I'm partly annoyed but on a much bigger level, greatly sympathetic because clearly something has got him feeling totally "wonky" as he likes to say. 

After trying numerous distractions to no avail (every thing I suggested was met with a disdainful "All done" and a swat) I finally lay back on the kitchen floor and said "Mama's all done"). Joe, who had been washing dishes and not heard much of this interaction came over to see what all the fuss was about. He too, tried various strategies to cheer up the little man. Offering a walk - "All done outside!", singing the Elmo song - "All done, Elmo". The finale was when he hopped off Joe's lap, walked by an Ecology textbook on the coffee table, gave it a resounding slap and shouted out "All done, Book!". I know we shouldn't have burst out laughing at this point, but the whole scene was verging on comical. I guess this could be considered his first temper tantrum. And from a psychological perspective, well done, Taran. You are hitting all the developmental milestones nicely - asserting your independence, expressing your feelings. From a dead-tired parenting perspective....slightly less fantastic.

Jessikah found a great book at the library the other day that is so fitting for the mood around our house these days. The pictures are bright and beautiful, Taran loves it, and we love it too because it gives us a much needed smile during some of the more trying times.

In the moments where he is calm and snuggly, another family favorite lately has been this fantastic book that we stumbled upon at the Children's book store down the street.

In those moments at the end of the day, when he's finally allowing his body to melt into stillness, to melt into my own, I sit him on my lap, I breathe in the scent of his freshly washed hair and I remind him and myself how Full, Full, Full, of Love I am.

Random Reflections

Taran's second birthday is coming up in just a few weeks (?!) and Joe and I have been discussing what special things we want to get him. But observing him this week really cracks me up because our concept of a special toy and his concept of a special toy are vastly different, and honestly I have more respect for his point of view.

The bucket of rocks I picked up were a big hit and he's found all kinds of interesting things to do with them like dropping them in the sound hole of his guitar, attempting to lodge them in his ear canals and wear them as hats, learning about the basic principles of balance and physics...

The cheese cracker is an essential component in this balancing act - without it all would be lost.

For the most part, I really love seeing what enjoyment he gets out of everyday household objects. Of course, I'd be a little happier (or at least less mortified) if he weren't so fascinated with things like my dirty underwear.... or my box of tampons. Sorry, I know, TMI.

On the less gnarly and embarrassing side, he can make a violin out of anything. This morning he was supremely pleased to be holding "two violins!!" at once. Just in case you have trouble distinguishing what are violins and bows in the following picture, the violins are the wooden frying pan and the blue shovel, the bows are the french press handle and the drumstick.

There is nothing quite so lovely as the imagination of a two year old....

But dinners with Joe come pretty close. The thing about being an academic is that the job never ends. This means that Joe works every night of the week except Saturday, our date night. But honestly I look more forward to our evening ritual of dinner together, after Taran is down and before Joe starts work again, than I do of our date night. Date nights can be pretty lame affairs - we are usually wiped out come Saturday so we aren't game for doing much exciting. Last week I think we did half a NY Times crossword and then I passed out on the couch while Joe practiced guitar.

But I cherish the chance to connect over dinner and share all the little details of our day. I'm really touched by how sacred Joe holds this ritual, no matter how busy he is. Most of the time, the conversation runs towards the mundane but every once in a while, a question gets raised that leads to some surprising revelations. Tonight, randomly, I asked Joe if he would have gotten a tattoo, what would it have been -  About 9 years ago I got a tattoo in a parlor in Grenwich Village in NYC. I'd been thinking about it for three years prior, but the decision to do it at that moment was impulsive, like many other things I do. The tattoo is of a phoenix, for all the obvious symbolism. - Anyway, his response: A line from the Maya Angelou poem "Still I Rise". I was a bit floored because it's the verbal equivalent of my tattoo and I never even knew he'd had that thought. 

It was interesting to hear what drew him to the poem, how it struck a chord in him on what it meant to have a sense of pride in oneself. In Chinese culture, and definitely in his family, being prideful is not  encouraged. But as a teenager, he realized the value and the importance of pride, not as a boastful thing, but as a healthy love for oneself. So we listened to the Maya Angelou poem together and then we went off to our respective corners in the house, he to work, and me to write this post. It was just a short, sweet moment, but I love that after half a decade, I'm constantly learning new things about this man. 

Father's Day is just two days away and the other thing I've been thinking about this week is how lucky Taran and I are to have this pride-ful, huge-hearted, fiercely loyal lion of a man in our lives. Thanks babe. I love you so much.