more costa rica

We stayed firmly on the beaten track in Costa Rica. We went to typical tourist sites. This was intentional. Mikhail and I - and Mike and Maud, the friends we were traveling with - have done a lot of traveling off the beaten track. At times way off. But for this, our first international travel with kids, we decided that typical tourist amenities were right up our alley.

In Monteverde, we went full-on nature-tourist. We visited a butterfly/insect exhibit, a snake exhibit (Mikhail happily sat that one out), a frog exhibit, a hummingbird feeding area, and a hanging bridges cloud forest walk.

The butterflies were quite friendly. 

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Perhaps even a little overly friendly.

Let us just be clear that it is not my breast in the above photo being felt up by a butterfly.

One even laid eggs on Mike's back. Perhaps it was all that fermented mango they were feeding them.

The snakes, however, were not so friendly. 

Although that's not fair of me to say. Maybe they were friendly. Maybe they would have loved a little cuddle. But they were behind thick glass, and we weren't getting close enough to find out for ourselves. 

Mikhail hates snakes. Elan's favorite animals are snakes. And his very favorite snake is the eyelash pit viper, one of the most dangerous venomous snakes found between Mexico and Venezuela. Go figure. 

Mikhail and I have a theory that our older child thrives off of oppositional energy -- not when it comes to school (at least not so far), or to his age-mates (thankfully), but when it comes to us, his parents. It started at birth. We assumed that, as a first baby, he'd follow statistical trends and be late. But instead, he was a full two weeks early. The weekend he decided to make his grand entrance was not only just before a gigantic work project was due for Mikhail's then-new job, it was also the weekend my parents, our nearest family members when he was born and we were living in North County San Diego, moved out of the house they had lived in for 27 years.

He says the eyelash viper is his favorite snake because it's yellow, and yellow is his favorite color.

Let's just say that, from the start, he's liked to keep us on our toes.

This was my favorite snake. 

The coloring on this guy is magnificent. And he's not actually poisonous, he just looks like a poisonous snake so that predators will leave him alone. Or at least that's the story I remember about him, and after 20 minutes of googling Costa Rican snakes to try to remember his name, I'm willing to stick with that story. Plus, I think there's a metaphor in there somewhere if you go looking for it.

The hummingbirds were, as Maud likes to say, "amazeballs!"

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Hundreds of them zoomed from feeder to feeder, whizzing by your head lightning-fast, with their sharp beaks seeming only inches from your eyeballs. Sometimes I wanted to duck. But I trusted that they knew what they were doing.

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They weren't upset by the red interloper, though they really didn't seem to know what to make of his price tag.

Then there was this.

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Which was quite amazing, so long as I didn't allow myself to consider the possibility of getting lost.

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Or anyone falling off a bridge. Which I did not consider, not for a moment.

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The four of us seasoned travelers (not the kiddos, novices that they are) are known for our loyalty. Once we find a cafe or restaurant that we really like, we go back over and over. In Monteverde, that was a cafe called The Common Cup, which had the kind of Costa Rican coffee we were hoping to drink everywhere but of course only found a few places.

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Note my icy, frothy, chocolate-y coffee drink. Yum.

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And Elan's eating a cinnammon roll, minus the frosting because that qualifies as gooey. Look at that, the kid did eat in Costa Rica!

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Emry was feeling much better.

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And Elan was still in a really good mood.

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At least most of the time.

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*Starred photos - credit Mike Moclair & Maud O'Connor

costa rica

We went to Costa Rica.

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I think Tabacon Hot Springs is my new version of Eden.

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Hot rivers and massage-style waterfalls.

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Black-bottomed pools of varying sizes and temperatures set into the jungle.

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At the base of a volcano.

There was a water slide, which meant that Elan was in heaven.

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He was in a stunningly good mood for the first part of our trip, which we made sure to enjoy in case it changed suddenly. Which it did, but that's a story for later.

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Emry had a fever for the first four days of our trip, topping off at 103.9 degrees. I had to buy a thermometer at the grocery store in San Jose (Costa Rica, not California) since it was the one thing I forgot to pack. Of course, it was in Celsius, but lucky us, we had the Internet, so we didn't have to actually do math while comforting a toddler who'd just had a rectal temperature taken.

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He might have been glassy-eyed, but he could still live it up at the swim-up bar.

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Kid's a rock star.

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Our hotel room here was a splurge. But it was big enough for an indoor soccer game, so we definitely didn't go wrong.

And perfect for room service breakfast.

Which, when you're traveling with two small children, is anything but romantic.

But then you get this, too, which is pretty fun.

We were traveling with our Irish travelin' friends, Mike & Maud, who we first met 10 years ago in South America. 

Bless their souls for traveling with us and our pesky kids. They gave us a date night. They packed the car (our suitcase & duffle on the roof so we could fit all 6 of us in one SUV). They entertained our children. They entertained us.

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And they took many of these awesome pictures.

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I think this is my new happy place.

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*Starred photos - credit Michael Moclair, Maud O'Connor

Thanks for everything, guys!

hanging with fireflies

Okay, so these aren't fireflies.

Have you ever tried to take pictures of fireflies? 

Butterflies, Turtle Back Zoo, New Jersey

We went to Costa Rica.

We came home.

Mikhail went on a business trip.

We went on an overnight camping trip with Elan's preschool camping trip.

A giant owl buzzed my windshield. 

Mikhail went on another business trip.

My mother-in-law came to rescue me from the horrors of double-bedtime-alone duty.

Mikhail came home.

Elan graduated from preschool.

I cried.

Just a little.

I got on a plane with my two boys and came to New Jersey to see my extended family.

Grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins, oh my!

And now the three of us are heading to Baltimore to visit my college roommate and her kids.

And then home.

Hi, honey! We miss you!

And then Elan's camp starts.

His first time at summer camp.

It feels like this kid is growing up too fast. 

Can't I slow him down, just for a few months while I catch my breath?

I'm really enjoying seeing my relatives who I only get to see once or twice a year. Watching my kids bond with my Back East family. Driving the crazy New Jersey highways in the minivan with my kids and my parents, everyone playing the alphabet-roadtrip game. Sitting on the porch watching the fireflies light up the forest like miniature fireworks.

I wish we had fireflies in California.

You can't be stressed out while you're hanging with fireflies.

Somewhere in the midst of all this packing and unpacking, I am trying to get my work done and not drop too many balls.

Yesterday, I realized that I had dropped two balls.

I do not like that feeling of How on earth did I forget that?

It's like misplacing your wallet, or your wedding ring.

Except I didn't misplace my wallet or my wedding ring.

Not yet, at least.

I give credit to my new packing system.

I'll tell you about it.

Later.

Really, I will.

beginner's mind

Shadow, Japanese maple, June 2012

Oh, hello.

I've missed you.

More on that later.

I've posted before about YogaToday, but I wanted to direct you to this week's free class (if you missed the free week for this class, you can buy any YogaToday class for a few dollars - you download it and it's yours to do whenever and however many times you want).

If you're a yoga novice, haven't practiced in a while, or are just in need of a centering/grounding activity, I recommend spending 50 minutes virtually transported to Sedona, Arizona. A lot of the classes on YogaToday are fairly strenuous and not appropriate for beginners, but this is a good class for beginners or experienced yoginis looking for a low-key class, say if you're under the weather or having a low-energy evening.

Or someone who feels in need of experiencing beginner's mind for a while.

That would be me, today. Maybe every day.

remembering Popa Al

Popa Al in June 2008, at my sister's wedding

It was one year ago today that my Popa Al passed away. I just scrolled through the post I wrote about him that day. It was good to look at the pictures and think about him.

I am glad to be able to say that I remember him often, not just on anniversaries. Part of this is because Emry reminds me so much of my grandfather - his blue eyes, the way his little face is shaped with distinctive chin and soft cheeks, the sweetness of his character. When I was pregnant with Emry and my Popa was still alive, I had a feeling that this baby had a lot of Popa in him. It has turned out to be one of my more accurate intuitive predictions about my children.

Emry, 18 months, May 2012

There is abundant sweetness of character, and there is spiciness too. Because though everyone who knew my Popa thought of him as good-natured, which he certainly was, he sure was stubborn too. And with Emry in the grip of his toddlerhood, we're starting to see his mischievousness and the strength of his will coming through. Which is all just exactly as it should be.

And since I'm taking a walk down Memory Lane, here's a picture of Elan at my sister's wedding, when he was 18 months, the exact same age Emry is now.

Elan at 18 months, June 2008

Yup, those two are definitely related.

recipe for the day

Lemon mint water, September 2011

Take one lemon, given to you by someone who grew it in their yard, and one bunch of mint, given to you by someone who grew it in their yard. Combine.

Take the medicine before the headache comes fully on.

Complete something, anything, but preferably something small that's been bugging you, like a mosquito whining in and out of your ear. Then recognize its completion.

Cut the lemon into quarters. Pluck the mint leaves off the stem. For once, do not practice restraint. Resist the urge to save some for later.

Enjoy the dream, revel in the way the world can look slightly different, the colors brighter, time slowed down just one millisecond. Do not hurry to wake up.

Watch the spiderweb floating up and down in the breeze, a line of silver that glimmers in the sunshine, then fades.

Waking up will happen on its own.

Add water. Stir. Taste. Decide if you want to add sugar. If you do, suck from the bottom of the glass with a straw and enjoy the crystals on your tongue.

Drop off the video at the video store (how old-fashioned) and pick out another, even though you know it will be a stretch to find the time to watch it.

Pick up the waffle that has been torn to bits and strewn in the corner by small, delighted hands.

Pour from the pitcher, drink deeply and frequently, feeling gratitude for the mint and the lemon and the people who grow them and that you live where there is sunshine and land for lemon trees and mint plants.

in the still of the night

My grandmother's china, 4 a.m.

It's 4:48 a.m. and I'm baking banana muffins.

Some weeks just go like this. We start off all shiny and new, thinking of the things large and small we're going to accomplish. On Sunday night, we either have visions of success or trepidation. Does it matter which we expect, when the end result just seems to come to fruition on its own, a product of moon phase, cycle phase, life phase, sleep phase, what?

On Monday, I was swimming laps, in my happy zone place, thinking about the cool travel journal I'm going to make for Elan for our trip to Costa Rica, when suddenly I ran into something with my head. Very hard. My teeth clacked together from the impact. As I stood up, I heard the lifeguard blowing her whistle. Then I remembered that I had indicated in hand gestures "let's split" to the guy I was sharing the lane with. That was about 45 seconds ago. Which is clearly why I forgot and continued the circle swim, pushing off the wall into his side of the lane, and bashed heads with him. 45 seconds is a long time.

That night, I was feeling victorious for pulling together a healthy, colorful dinner in 30 minutes flat, while making grilled cheese for Elan (the only things he'll eat for dinner these days are grilled cheese and peanut butter sandwiches). Mikhail and I sat down with full bowls at 7:02 pm, which is an astonishingly together time for adult dinner in my household. I fed Emry a spoonful, then noticed that Mikhail was only eating the sprouts that I had heaped on the side as an impromptu salad. I took a bite and we looked at each other. "That's weird, the quinoa didn't cook at all," I said. "I don't think this is quinoa," he said. Yeah. It wasn't. It was millet. Which, in case you're wondering, I don't recommend at all as a quick, healthy starch to mix with your quick, healthy veggie & meatball saute.

I guess, given that start to the week, it's not a surprise that I'm sitting at my table at 4 a.m., Tension Tamer tea at hand, typing these words. Hoping to not burn the banana muffins like I burned the grilled cheese for Elan tonight. When I went to make him another one, I realized I had no bread left. I had gone to two grocery stores in the last two days, each time with two children in tow. I sat on the steps with my head down and thought about crying, but couldn't quite summon the energy.

We were in Trader Joe's (the second shopping trip of the two days), it was 5:45 p.m., and I was feeling very short-tempered and short-fused, generally like a small bomb about to blow up, and Emry had been in the Ergo on my back for what felt like hours, alternating between sucking his thumb and pulling my hair, and Elan was in the stroller because he insisted he was too tired to walk at all, and I was doing everything in my power to keep my back from tweaking yet again and also keep my impatience from flooding out my mouth and all over the floor like greasy undercooked-millet water. Elan was trying to get my attention again, possibly for another fight over whether Gorilla Munch could be considered a healthy dinner. I squatted down beside the stroller and said, "I am paying attention to you totally and completely. What on earth do you want to tell me?" I might have even said, "whadaya want now?" I might even have growled it.

"Sometimes I just really feel like crying," said the boy with the giant brown eyes.

If you have ever felt like you've disappointed someone you love, you probably know how I felt in that moment. Deflated. A little ashamed. And also like - Yes. You nailed it kid. Sometimes you just really feel like crying.

I gave him a hug (awkwardly, leaning into the stroller, with Emry tugging at my hoodie hood). I gave him a bag of those crispy, salty fried peas, which in my house qualify as a vegetable. Half the bag and a few blocks later, he felt better.

And then after I had burned the grilled cheese and sat with my head down on the stairs and wanted to cry but didn't, because my husband was away and I was the only Grown Up in attendance and Emry was throwing bits of wonton on the floor from his high chair and the children have been like barnacles lately, and dinner-bath-bed had to be finished soon, I thought about how, in a house awash with the tears of boys, sometimes I there is no room for the tears of a mama. So instead, there is an episode of Glee on the laptop in bed after they're finally asleep, followed by a 1:30 a.m. wake-up for the big boy screaming, a 2:30 a.m. wake-up for the same, lying in bed until 4 a.m. Finally hovering on the fringes of sleep when the little boy calls out Mama Mama and then goes back to sleep, but it's done nonetheless. I'm irreparably awake. I decide to just get up. Make the muffins, write the words spiraling in my brain. Damn the consequences. Sometimes weeks just go like this.