dsb's Blogs

Neighborhood picnic

dsb — Thu, 04 Jun 2009 03:23:08 GMT

Have I mentioned how much I love my local moms' group? It has connected us with so many incredible families, and it has given me such a feeling of roots in this community. It's also a powerful group that has effected real change in schools, business, politics, and the economy in our neighborhood—a true testament to the power of moms to drive their communities.

Today was the third annual picnic for the moms' group, and somewhere around 750 people were in attendance. It was such fun.

New York (a.k.a. the George and Sidamo Show)

dsb — Tue, 26 May 2009 03:26:34 GMT

A few weeks ago we went to New York for the week (can you see the Statue of Liberty behind us? She's the little pillar a few inches behind and to the left of Sidamo's head). I had to go for Mindful Mama reasons, and Greg and the kids joined for a little vacation. We stayed with my sister Meaghan and her family in their incredible Chelsea apartment, and the kids had a ball.

Sidamo and George have finally realized that they can actually be friends instead of just competitors for toys. Either that or they've carefully calculated just how much more mischief they can accomplish if they join forces.

Just as proof that we did bring Nora, here's my one picture of her from the entire trip.

It rained the whole time we were in New York, which is actually quite lovely when you're from arid climes like ours (though I feel kind of silly saying that today, three days into nonstop, torrential rains—unheard of in Colorado). Luckily I was able to find Sidamo the raingear of his dreams at Century 21:

And it was quite fitting, since the NYFD was the highlight of Sidamo's trip. One day while I was working, Greg and Meaghan took the boys to the park. As they were walking there, they passed a fire truck. The fireman, seeing the wonderment in George and Sidamo's eyes, invited them in. He even pulled out some helmets for them to wear and let them turn on the lights. Hea. Ven.

On the next block, and on top of the world, Sidamo saw a parked ambulance. He shouted, "I want to get in that one!" To which Greg replied, "Nice try buddy, but you can't just get in every emergency vehicle you pass." To which the ambulance driver replied, "I heard that. Get in!"

Seriously, he has reached his pinnacle. You might as well give up now, Damo, because it's not gonna get any better than this. The park lacked a certain luster after such adventure.

Another day they all went to the Natural History Museum while I worked.

It was all fun and games until Sidamo saw the whale, and then the joke was over. I think his fear of underwater creatures might trace back to the 3D Under the Sea movie Greg took him to a few months ago. Or it could just be that whales are freaking huge.

A wonderful trip all around. Lots of good work done, and lots of good family and friend time to boot. We often come home from our New York trips thinking, "Hey, why don't we live there?" But then we remember that on our salaries (make that, salary) New York would look very different. And then I take the kiddos for a walk to our local park, in the (usually) dry spring warmth, and point out about 100 different flower varieties to Sidamo and Nora on our way, and I remember that I really do love it here in our small-city, big-mountain world.

Honoring Mothers

dsb — Sun, 10 May 2009 16:04:52 GMT

Waking up to a rainy, dreary day always brings on a certain melancholy for me. I welcome it on occasion as an opportunity to go inward, slow down, and ruminate. It's also the reason I live in Colorado, where the sun shines 300+ days a year. Melancholy is a nice place to visit, but I'd never want to live there.

Today's Mother's Day, and I woke up to rain. I pulled both children into our bed this morning, nursing Nora and cuddling Sidamo under our warm and heavy comforter. I got a little weepy thinking how lucky I am to have the opporunity to parent these beautiful little beings.

And then I started thinking about all the other mothers in my life—my own mother, whom I said goodbye to on a rainy day in March, 13 years ago. Of Sidamo's first mother, who loved and nurtured him so thoroughly for as long as she could. And of all the mothers who now make up my village—my sisters, my friends, my teachers.

Greg called me to the window after breakfast to look at the back yard, infused with life from the recent rain. The hostas are uncoiling and claiming their space. The apricot tree is heavy with wet leaves. The coral bells are bursting with nectar. And I remember that the occasional rain—melancholy and all—is what sustains us.

Nora's 10 Months Old!

dsb — Sun, 26 Apr 2009 20:16:43 GMT

Nora is in the double-digits; her mama is in shock. I've officially become the woman who harasses mothers of newborns exclaiming, "I can't believe my baby was ever that small!" And then going on and on about how, no really, it was just yesterday that Nora was that tiny. And they look at me the way I looked at moms of 10-month-olds when Nora actually was that tiny—like, "You're not even in my league anymore, lady. My baby is a cuddly, innocent, perfect little newborn. Your kid is a teenager, already corrupted by the world. She's probably smoking pot in her crib."

This month has brought increased mobility and speed, and, subsequently, lots of bruises on the forehead. I try to help her avoid falls, but there's only so much you can do. Hey, she's developing her resiliency, right?

The jabbering is picking up a lot, and her language comprehension is improving noticeably. She knows who mama, dada, and Damo are, and she also dances when she hears the word dance, or the sound of the coffee grinder. She waves goodbye when she hears bye-bye. I'm working hard on training her on some more tricks.

She hates hats and sunglasses. Rephrase: She hates sunglasses on her face and hats on her head. Either one in her mouth is A-OK.

She's crawling on her knees more, especially when she's on carpet. On hardwoods she still does the army crawl. She can finally sit on her own, which was a long time coming. It wasn't that she couldn't sit until now, exactly, but that she's so intent on moving that she would throw herself backwards to get into a mobile position. Now she's figured out how to go from seated to crawling, so she's now allowed to sit without wearing a helmet.

She continues to adore her big brother, and he is so, so sweet with her. He helps her, watches out for her, and tries (almost always successfully) to make her laugh. It's really fun to watch their relationship develop, and I wonder how it will be when Nora is able to keep up with Sidamo (and compete with him for toys).

Norasaur, you're my sweet little toothless beauty, and I adore every teensy bit of you.

Opening Day

dsb — Wed, 22 Apr 2009 16:44:27 GMT

What an amazing morning! Thanks to the incredible diligence, brilliance, and dedication of our talented team, Mindful Mama is finally out there in the world, brightening people's days. So many people have contributed to this launch, but three people in particular have supported this project—and supported me!—so immensely that it would be a sin to even mention the beauty of this launch without attributing them:

Amy Hayes for her stunning design. She listened, understood, and translated our vision and mission into a breathtaking reality. I just can't say enough good things about you, Amy—you're a genius, and a delight to work and create with!
Nigel Mohrlock at 303 Software, who took Amy's beautiful design and gave it life. This site is amazing, due in no small part to your sleepless nights, intuition, and generous spirit. We owe you a case of beer or a big box of chocolate—though I imagine what you'd really like is a full night's sleep.
Melissa Williams for her inspired writing, story ideas, and enthusiastic support of Mindful Mama. The content is infinitely more robust, diverse, and thought-provoking because of your contribution.

And to all the wonderful writers, experts, photographers, marketing and PR folks, and friends who have helped and continue to support us as we more forward, thank you.

Check Sarah's blog for more appreciation and accolades.

So much love.

Deirdre