I Love Your Boo-boos, Mama

Espen has been experiencing a rekindling of affection for his Original Sources of Life.

We have a pretty relaxed home when we are sans guests, so it's not uncommon for "nudies" to be seen walking to and from the shower or streaking down the hall. (Usually that's just Espen. Usually.)

And for those of you who have followed the antics of Espen over time, you'll recall that he is a rambunctious, joyful little being full of zest for life and throwing his parents curve balls on the regular.

This particular morning, he was in top form-zinging to and fro in the bathroom, asking me to write his name on the steamed up shower glass I was inside.

I've gotten really good at writing from right to left with all the letters backwards. Leonardo Davinci would be super proud of me and I admit to having a certain level of satisfaction at being able to reverse my "S" and "Z" without batting an eyelash. I also have a new found gratitude to the letters "A","H", "I", "M", "N", "O", "T","V","W", "X" and "Y" for being symmetrical.

After I finished writing out his name, I turned off the water, dried off and started brushing my teeth. Nudie. Very normal. Espen padded over and stood in front of me. I continued to brush my teeth.

He reached his hands up, high overhead and placed them on my breasts. Well, on the bottom of them anyway. Bowed his head and put his forehead against my stomach. He inhaled deeply and sighed. Was reverently still. And then whispered.

"I love you, boo-boos."

Then he dropped his hands and ran to my bed, ripped off the comforter and threw it to the ground like a wild dog with a fresh haunch of something within its grasp.

And that's about how life is here, these days.

Feel free to provide your interpretation of this event below.

Panting for Gold

Espen has learned about pirates and treasure and parade candy.

Also, that the three can be effectively packaged to great effect. 

For example. 

We have a sawdust pile in our yard that is both easy to dig in and also relatively clean. Wesp has developed a dear love for getting his kid sized shovel out and zestfully flinging dubiously filled spade-fulls of sawdust into his little red wheelbarrow. 

"Come WORK, mama!" he will yell joyfully, hurling sawdust into the air like a self-generating blizzard.

So I will come and shovel load after load of sawdust into his barrow until he decides there must be something magical in my digging tool that lets me get so much MORE sawdust than he is, and demands to switch.

Now that he knows about pirates digging for treasure, he is shoveling with a PURPOSE. 

"Mama, let's go dig for ARGH, treasure!"

(Thank you pirates and mermaids theatre camp for introducing him to the instant pirate-cred phrase,"Argh")

Around this time period, he also attended the 4th of July parade in Molalla. 

This is an amazing spectacle where people ride longhorn cows with saddles and there are semi-trucks of candy to rain down on the children. 

Neither Espen nor I were expecting this windfall, but fall it did and a month later we are still staggering under the weight of uneaten candy (That's my fault for not letting him have candy every single day.)

I have relocated it several times in an attempt to throw him off the scent, but he is a bloodhound for the Sweet Stuff. 

So when he suggested that we "Dig for treasure" together and meaningfully pointed at the small chest I had a feeling we were in for it.

"Let's dig for THAT treasure there, mama!! ARGH!!!!"

I thought back to my childhood and the treasure lust that possessed me regularly. How many times I had gone hunting for gold with my cousins in the stream by our house. The hours of unmitigated revelry when we thought we'd struck it rich.

"Alright. We can bury the treasure chest."

Espen whooped with glee and began furiously launching sawdust in all directions. I stepped back and waited. He was not impressed.

"Come ON, mama!!! Pant for gold!!!"

I waited on that one, just for a second...channeled my inner pirate and realized that I probably WOULD be panting for gold if I were a pirate and that treasure chest was full of my favorite booty.

"Ok, buddy. Let's pant."

He continued to dig wildly while I started breathing heavily. Espen stared at me.

"Mama. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! DIG!!"

"Buddy, I thought we were panting for gold!"

"WE ARE, MAMA!!! You have to go like THIS."

And he picked up his shovel, took a load of sawdust in it and started shaking it back and forth.

And then I remembered that my mother, his beloved grandma, is the Queen of Treasure Lust. She has been known to take her gold pan with her on camping trips JUST IN CASE she might get lucky. It is also known that she is particularly skilled at getting little kids jazzed about such things.

I looked closely at Espen.

"Espen, where did you learn to pant for gold?"

He didn't miss a beat and just kept swishing his sawdust.

"Grandma, ARGH!! KEEP PANTING!"

And so we did. Until the very last piece of treasure had been exhumed and celebrated.

Frightenbush and the Nudies

First of all, I'd like to state that there are a lot more people who would wander around nude in public if allowed than you might think. And it's not necessarily the traditionally "hot" people either. Or just young ones. Or the Europeans, though they definitely have a cultural pre-disposition to casual social nakedness.

Now I've always had a nose for sniffing out socially transgressive ideas and experiences, so it was no surprise when an old high school friend invited my family along on a "Summer Solstice Retreat" at the wilderness destination, Breitenbush Hot Springs.

I was born and raised in Portland, Oregon so a little weirdness is in my blood. Notwithstanding that, I was also raised in a pretty culty religion, so the idea of nature, vegetarian food and celebrating the sun with other similarly inclined naturalists suited me fine.

Tobias being Danish added just the dash of European liberalism needed to make this a great idea for our family's summer solstice. Espen, being a captive audience and fond of his parents, was loaded into the car and shuttled off towards The Wild.

On the way down the road, we briefed him on the impending festivities.

"So we are going to Breitenbush, honey. It's a very magical place in the old trees where people don't wear a lot of clothing and there are hot pools of water from Mother Earth to play in."

Espen looked out the window and nodded benignly. "Ok, mama." No big deal. Cause you know, when you've been around the world and hung with Naked Danes in the Dead of Winter, a little temperate, summertime nudity ain't no thang.

After hurtling down I-5 for approximately 10 minutes, Espen decided he no longer wished to be captive. Howling commenced.

As a fun aside, I've been retraining my brain to come out of a limbic cycle of perpetual fight or flight for the last two months and while I've made a great deal of progress in the process of re-educating my brain to believe that life is not actually trying to kill me constantly, my four year old princeling can make my brain forget everything it has learned in about 5 minutes of solid hollering. I am always amazed by this.

In went my earplugs and up went the volume on his manic Danish kids music. And so we progressed towards our Forest Frolic.

An hour later, we drove alongside the North Santiam River, Espen hollered out by this time and stuffing his face with Tobias' Emergency Trail Mix--which now glittered the entire back of the car and much of the front due to his newfound skill of hurling projectiles and general disdain of his Errant Parents.

I love the drive up this corridor. As a child, Hwy 22 marked the coming of Saturday Jesus summer camp at Big Lake. As an adult, the soon appearance of Mystical Breitenbush.

The mists were hanging low over the river and trees clutched the sides of vertiginous canyon walls. I pointed this out to Espen. He demanded that the explosion of trail mix be removed from his space immediately.

"Mama, take this AWAY!" he gestured meaningfully around his lair.

"Babe, you did that all by yourself. You can do it again when we arrive at Breitenbush."

He was not impressed by my laissez-faire attitude about housekeeping on the road. Somehow, however, he decided to refrain from commenting until we turned onto the Breitenbush road.

This road is part of building the Breitenbush Experience. It's very rustic and very gravelly and very filled with potholes of indeterminate depth and intention. Espen was thrilled.

He craned his neck to look at the towering trees above.

Whispered with church like reverence.


"Mama, is THIS Frightenbush?"

Tobias and I looked at each other. Tried to keep straight faces while simultaneously attempting to determine if the other had planted such a seed in the child. We both shook our heads. That was all him.

But an answer must be had. So.

"Uh, well, yes honey. I suppose it is. Nearly."

Espen sighs happily.

"I love Frightenbush. I want to stay here with the nudies forever."

And of course, I'm imagining him declaring his fidelity to Frightenbush and The Nudies with great feeling and volume in the midst of all the bushy nudies in the hot pools. Clearly so is Tobias.

And yet. From the mouth of babes...

We said nothing.

But Espen sure did.

A day into the adventure, we're on our way to the hot springs pools and there are a lot of Very Impressive Bushes. I mean, it's the middle of the ancient forest for Hippiesake and people are clearly proud of their hirsute values. Espen is once again transfixed.

"Mama, look at her hairs! She's so fuzzy!"

I should have been prepared, but he had a point. She is. They all are really.

You know it's one thing to see a single lion but another thing entirely to see an entire GROUP of them all together at once. You just have to behold the glory. No talking. Just glory.

Espen pulled on my hand.

"Mama, why are there so many fuzzy people at Frightenbush?!"

If I'd had a mic, I would've just dropped it there and called it a Good Solstice.

How To Get Your Kid Drunk

Pay Close Attention:

1. Let Your Child Try Your Home Brewed Kombucha Very Infrequently As A, "Special Treat"
2. Allow Time To Pass
3. Invite Other Parents and Children Over
4. Buy Much Cider
5. Crack One Open and Pour it Into A Common Drinking Vessel
6. Drink Half and Get Involved in A Conversation
7. Place Vessel On Counter At Kid Height
8. Fail To Realize Cider Looks Much Like Home Brewed Kombucha
9. Walk Away To Check Out Something Interesting For 5 Minutes
10. Return When Your Wife/Partner Yells, "Espen (insert your child's name here)! STOP!!!!! That is an ADULT Beverage!"
11. Witness Your 4 Year Old Saying, "But I LIKE Kombucha!" and Your Wife Responding, "It's not Kombucha, It's beer!"
12. And Your Child Saying, "Well then, I LIKE BEARD!!!"
13. Remove Your Empty Glass From Your Child's Hands
14. Take Him Outside
15. Water Him
16. Pray None of the Parents Notice Anything Odd With Kid
17. Wait Patiently For Parent Of The Year Award To Arrive

S(h)itting on the Eiffel Tower

Tobias ran the Shamrock Run last Saturday, Espen and I hovering at the finish line at 8AM in solidarity. Our family unity was undeniable. After a mad dash to the trees for an emergency pee that COULD NOT WAIT, Espen decided that he was as "fast as Dada" and proclaimed it loudly to amused bystanders in running tights. Then, he announced that I should carry him as he was tired after watching Tobias cross the finish line.

I should have taken this as a sign for the day's impending festivities.

After heading home and changing into more sedate clothing, Tobi, Espen and I headed down to Milwaukie on our bikes for some fresh air and fun. We dropped Tobi at the Warrior Room where his fellow kettle bell rats and Shamrock runners were assembling to celebrate their ferocity.

Espen and I headed over to the Portland Waldorf School to romp around their grounds and get up to shenanigans.

It was a lovely day, the sun was out and blue sky punctuated our unusually rainy winter.

We frisked about in the sand pit for quite some time, digging for treasure and making bmx tracks to leap around-more Espen leaping than me. I was like the nanny car making sure he didn't impale himself on his digging stick.

I'll admit, I started looking for a new environment after about an hour of wild sand play so we headed over to the playground. But that is right next to the most enticing structure on the property. Again, I should have been a bit more aware. But no.

Imagine the Eiffel Tower if you will. Its stable base tapers into a needle like tower that rises skyward. So elegant. So timeless.

Now imagine that same Eiffel Tower, but this time, made out of ropes connected in geometric configurations that allow the silhouette of the Eiffel Tower to emerge while simultaneously providing the opportunity to scale it from bottom to top. Now shrink it from a couple hundred feet to about twenty and you'll have a working concept of this playground witchery.

Espen has seen this structure before and has had the sign read to him that says something like, "For children age 10 and up"

But Espen Camino cares not for numbers and ages. He cares about climbing into the rarefied air of rope towers.

He dashed towards the tower, hollering behind him as he went. "Momma! I'm going to climb ALL THE WAY TO THE TOP!"

Tobias recently had to scale said structure to get him down so I wasn't worried about him being incapable...it was more of a test to see if he'd listen. I've been conducting trials over the last few months to see if there is any noticeable movement towards acknowledging my voice as other than background noise-so far, nothing indicates this is the case.

Just so, when I asked him to return to the playground he kept hauling ass to the Eiffel Tower at top speed and hit the first level of ropes laughing.

Up he went with admirable speed and confidence.

"Come up and get me, mama!" he teased.

"I will not. You come down." I countered.

"Ha ha, mama! I'm going to the top!"

And so I waited at the bottom, ready to try and catch him if he fell.
Which would have been sad, but just the TINIEST bit satisfying to say "I told you so".

But he did not fall. He just climbed right up to the top like a spider monkey. And then proceeded to cackle with delight at his accomplishment.

"Ok, Boo. You can come down now." I acknowledged.

"Nope! I LIKE it up here, mama!" he hooted.

And then two blonde wonders ran up and launched themselves at the tower. They were probably 6 or 7 and man were they fast.

They shimmied up that rope geometry faster than I could shout cosign. Espen was ecstatic.

"HI FRIENDS! COME ON UP!" he encouraged, waving his hand happily.

Come up they did. And then proceeded to leap onto the center pole that is 20 feet tall if it's 2, and slide to the bottom, hugging it like a plump grandma all the way down.

I could see the amazement in Espen's eyes as well as a healthy dose of awe. He was not ready to attempt such a feat, but he would sure cheer them on.

"Come on guys! Let's race!" he shouted. And the boys were happy to oblige.

My eyes were racing back and forth like it was a top level Tetris game. No way could I keep up with all that movement. The boys' adult didn't seem particularly concerned as he checked his phone and ate the kids' sandwiches so I focused on Espen.

The boys soon tired of winning every round and raced off to new distractions. Espen however, moved into a blissed out contemplation high atop the tower. He hung his legs over one of the ropes and leaned forward to rest on another. Looked out over the playing field.

"Momma, it's real pretty up here." he smiled.

"I'm sure it is, love. Why don't you come on down and we can go ride our bikes a little more?"

He gazed across the field again and then looked down at me benignly.

"I'm peeing, momma."

"What? Boo. No. Just come on down and pee here."

He smiled and stayed put.

"It's ok, Momma. You can just change me in the car."

"No, honey. I can't. We rode our bikes here. Come on down and pee."

He shook his head slowly.
"I already peed, momma."

I considered my options and realized we would be riding 2 miles back home in pee-pants. There were no clothing stores. No way I was putting him on public transportation. And now he was putting his hand down his pants...and then rubbing his eyes....his...nose...oh, god...nooo...his mouth.

"Espen! Get your hands off your face! That's really germy! Now come down here! Mommy is leaving."

I turned to walk away, because really, that's the ONLY thing that seems to shake me out of "background noise" role.

He scooted down the tower, but as soon as he hit the ground, he began to waddle.

He put his hand down the back of his pants before I could open my mouth. But he opened his and inserted his hand.

"I pooped, momma."

Espen had some great poop stories as a baby. They were messy, inconvenient and public, yet I was fine. He was a baby. Poop is a given.

But this was something else entirely. This was, "I'm having too much fun to pay attention to my body so I think I'll just poop my pants rather than inconvenience my play/contemplation/activity."

On the one hand, I get that. Bodily functions are pretty inconvenient as a general rule. But use a damn toilet or tree if you have the wherewithal to do so. Just please. But no.

"Espen, get your HAND out of your MOUTH. It's germy. It's gross. You could make yourself sick."

He rubbed his nose.

"AAAAA! STOP!!! WITH!! THE!!!! FACE!!!"

He smiled at me.

I check his pants, planning on just throwing the undies into the trash can and getting home as quick as possible.

But no again.

No usual well formed poop greeted my eyes.
Only slurry. And corn. I think.
Every. Where.

Yay for parenthood.

But not yay for me. Boo. BOO for me.

I realized I couldn't take off his undies because he'd soaked through not only undies but also shorts and was moving on to his sweat pants. Poop soup. Gah.

"Welp. You're going to have to ride home in your poop pants Espen. I haven't anything to put you in."

He looked at me in disbelief.

"JUST CHANGE ME IN THE CAR!!"

"We rode our bikes."

We stared at each other silently for a moment, gauging sincerity.
I moved towards the bikes.

"Let's go."
He tried to follow but well, his heart just wasn't in it. Imagine.

I shot off a quick text to Tobi.
"Your son just shat himself."

Then I looked at the clock and saw we had about 4 hours of daylight left to go 2 miles. And suddenly I was back in the land of story problems.

If Espen moves at .2 miles per day, how many hours will it take him to cover 2 miles? Please show your work.

Cue theme music from the movie, Alive.
It's go time, Mama. What are you gonna do? What are you gonna DO?

So I grabbed Espen, ran back to the garbage can, popped off his shoes, his socks and his sweats and threw them to one side. Then. I peeeeellled off his shorts and undies. He was yellow. And chunky. And smiling with glee.

"Good, momma! Let's go!"

I swabbed him once. Twice. And that was all the clean fabric to be had on his shorts.
Into the trash can they went.
Towards his bottom flew his hand.
But mine was faster.
I tried not to think of all the things his hand had touched.
Put his slightly pee/poop damp sweats back on. Socks. Shoes.

And he was off at a run towards his bike. Free at last. Or freer anyway.

Tobias showed up at that moment with the promise of wipes at his kettlebell studio but I was done. The germs had been spread, the ecoli likely burrowing down and getting acquainted with my son's immune system.

"We're going home. You go back to your party."

To his credit, Tobias walked us as far as the river, pulling Espen back from riding into traffic at every intersection. Yes, Espen knows better. But clearly this was Freedom to Give A Shit Saturday, so what the hell.

For the next two miles Espen alternated between licking his hands and dragging his feet until we were home. Somewhere around the half mile mark, I stopped caring if his feet were tired.

We rolled into home and he bolted for the door. I caught him mid-stride.

"Strip."
"I want to get in the hot tub, momma!"
"Not until you're sanitized. Now strip."

I probably should have burned all our clothes, but I had Lysol handy and I was tired.
No, I did not Lysol my child. But maybe I should have.

He has never been so thoroughly cleaned in his life.
And for that matter, neither have I.

Don't Tell Jackie

We had a cousin rendezvous at the Aquatic Center last Wednesday. Espen was raring to see Mathis and had come prepared in his swim shorts so all he needed to do was strip off his shirt, shower and hit the pool.

Right before he showered, he looked at me and whispered, "Mama, come here."

He never whispers so I was fully compliant.

"What's up, Espen?"

"I have to poop."

"Ok, let's go in the private changing area right by Mathis and Jackie and then we can pop back out."

He hung back for a moment, not wanting to commit. This is odd behavior especially since Espen normally loves to announce The Impending Arrival of Poop at at full voice in any venue.

I jiggled his hand a bit and coaxed him into the bathroom.
"What is it buddy? Are you too excited to poop? Don't want to spend the time in here when the pool is beckoning?"

He sat there on the toilet, looking at me until he felt the Event Approaching. Waved frantically at me.

"Get out of here, mamma!"

"Boo, I need to be in here in case you need something."

Shrieks.

"NO GET OUT OF HERE THIS MINUTE!"

I turned around and stared at the wall instead of my apopleptic offspring.

Silence reigned.

I peeked over my shoulder. "All done?"

He nodded as he slid off the seat and allowed me to perform some hygienic procedures on his rump.
Washed his little paws.
And then looked at me very deeply and motioned me forward.
Again, Espen and covertness have never been bedfellows.
I leaned in.

"Mamma, DON'T tell Jackie."

"What?"

"DON'T tell Jackie I pooped."

His face was dead serious. Somewhere between that moment and all those before it, Espen decided that pooping was not a thing to be talking about with people he admires.

We were seconds away from verbal interface with Jackie and Mathis, so I acted quick.

"Sure Wesp, I'll keep it quiet."

He looked at me again to be sure I wasn't kidding and then nodded and proceeded to behave as if nothing poop related had occurred in the bathroom.

Nothing to see here folks, nothing at all. Just your normal 3 year old sense of modesty or coolness or who knows what exactly, but I had my marching orders.

A kid, A Condom, A Conference

Oh yeah.

Just let your imagination run wild for a second.
Really soak in the title of this entry.
Allow it to activate your deepest corners of devilishness.

Annnnndddddd, here we go.

I have started leading weekly meditations for a Seattle tech company as part of their employee "recharge" program. Every Tuesday at 9:30AM we meet online and I guide them through a mindfulness practice to help support a more present frame of mind and less judgemental view of the world. To me, it's an incredible way to practice my OWN practice while offering a service to the heightened well-being and consciousness of my fellow human beings. All systems and values are a go on this.

Espen is usually at his play group during this time, so I can completely give myself over to the experience of being fully present as I guide new practitioners through an experience.

This week, however, his group was still on holiday break, so I was going to need a plan.

I discussed it with Espen several days in advance to see what infrastructure needed to be in place.

"Hey, Wesp. Do you think you could be quiet for a car ride to grandma and grandpa's house so mom can teach a meditation class?"

"Are you teaching yoga, mama?"

"Basically, yes."

"So you can be a better mom?"

"Well, um, yes."

"When will you be better, mama?"

"It's something I have to do forever, buddy."

"But will you go away to teach it?"

"Nope, I could do it at home if you think you can play quietly for a little while."

"Ok."

"Really?"

"Ok. I won't make a peep."

I'm a bit incredulous at this point since Espen is quite capable of entertaining himself for 30 minutes, but only if I'm not looking or asking for it. But I don't want to look a gift horse in the mouth, sooo....

"Alright, babe. That's great!"

Tuesday morning dawns and with it, the realization that I'd better get The Bear some fresh air before the session so he was good and calm DURING said gathering.

We went outside and met 28 degrees.

I had thought it would make sense to shoo him outside while I led the meditation, but this was clearly an Arctic Sign.

We made a brisk circle around the neighborhood and returned to the house. I headed inside, but Espen, refused to enter.

"You go in, mama. I'm staying here."

Now granted, he seems to be generally impervious to cold and had full winter clothes on to boot, but I was skeptical. It was just after 9 and I didn't want him wearing out the novelty of Nature before I was done facilitating mindfulness.

However, I needed to shower and get setup and didn't have a good deal of alternatives springing to mind so I said, "OK" and went about my business.

Shower complete and computer rebooting, I headed outside with snacks for the Tiny House, which I figured Espen could use as his warming hut. I had his favorite miso, snack bars, lemonade and fruit leather. So healthy. So exciting.

He spotted me from the top of his sawdust mountain.

"HI MAMA!!!"

"Hey, babe! I'm just putting some snacks here that you can eat while I am teaching the class, ok?"

"Mama! You eat them with me!"

"Wesp, I can't, remember? We talked about this? I have to lead the class now and you can play outside. Or take a bath."

"Outside. Eat with me!"

"I'll come get you when I'm done, ok?"

"I'll come with you, mama!"

"Well, babe, I need it very quiet in there and I think it'll be better if you can play out here and made all the noise you want."

"Mama! I won't MAKE A PEEP!"

"That's great, sweet one. Maybe we can do a trial run next time. But not today, ok?"

He sat there quietly for a moment, not buying it. Then, something clicked and he smiled.

"Ok mama."

I dashed to the house and checked the computer. No dice. I quickly installed Skype for Business on my phone and prayed for a smooth download. Success.

Because of having a wild card variable in the form of Espen Camino, I had chosen a meditation that focuses on the five senses one at a time. I figured, if Espen came storming in, we could just switch to hearing and use his noise as practice. And so I began.

At about 7 minutes in, I watched as Espen thumped up the back stairs and started banging on the door. I put my finger to my lips and tried to signal going around. He smiled and continued to bang so I walked to the far end of the house, still talking people through the sense of sight.

We had moved on to hearing and noticing sounds close by, middle distance and far away when Espen gained the interior of the house.

He raced towards me as I spoke. I quickly lifted a finger to my lips, praying he would think it was a game instead of control.

He cackled silently and ran away down the hall. I sighed and sank onto the couch.

Espen came barreling back into the room and launched himself on me.

The phone clattered to the floor. The headphones slipped off my ears. I lifted another finger to my lips and picked up the phone. Plugged in the headphones. Walked away from Espen as he chortled.

"You may have noticed I just dropped my phone, this is another great example of how we can practice in any environment, no matter how disruptive."

We made it through smell and taste and were headed into touch when Espen returned carrying something...elastic.

He held it up to me.

"Mommy, what IS this?"

At first I thought it was one of the balloons he'd brought home with Tobias the other day.

But no, it was too...long...

Oh. Sweet. Jesus.

He held up a wrapper.

"It's SHINY, mama!!! I can shine the FLOOR with it, LOOK!"

And he gleefully started waxing the floor with his new favorite toy, The Blue Condom.

And somehow, all my years in the theatre came rushing back to save me. I swallowed. Breathed.
And continued as I calmly walked away from Espen the Condom Cleaner, leaving him polishing away.

"You may notice touch as subtly as the fabric of your clothes resting on your skin...perhaps the pressure of your body contacting
the earth..."

Meanwhile, Espen cavorted around the room, silently waving his Latex Treasure.

I watched as he dropped pieces of his train in it...puzzle pieces, Legos...and then laid it at my feet and walked away.

We finished the sense of touch and I stepped over the condom. Espen smiled.