Middle Eastern Stars Go Rafting!

Elk Rock Island is a magical core of an ancient volcano 5 minutes from our house. In the summer, the river drops and you can walk across dry land to the island. But in winter, the river rises and Elk Rock Island becomes a tantalizing and inaccessible river island complete with bald eagles and old foundations from buildings of a bygone era. In short, it begs the adventurous to find a way across the moat.

Espen and I knew the water would be high when we visited. We were prepared to gaze longingly at the elusive island and sail pieces of bark towards it. Well, I was. Espen kept trying to haul logs to the shore to make "bridges". We did not however, anticipate the arrival of two grown men bent on constructing a raft to float across on.

Granted they were young men, but clearly adults, who busied themselves gathering sticks of wood and lumber that had washed ashore on the winter tides. Espen saw them abandon the sticks as too short and swooped down to annex them for his bridge building.

However.

When Espen saw them hauling tires filled with Styrofoam to the shore, any trace of shyness or interest in building his own project evaporated and he sidled closer for a look.

"Hey," he said casually, aiming for his best grown up voice.

They looked up and saw the little man hovering by their pile of  scavenged goods. One of them smiled and stepped closer to Espen.

"Hey," he said back.

"Whatcha buildin' there?" Espen questioned, hoping beyond hope that they would say a device that would carry him to the island.

The young man crouched down. Looked at Espen earnestly.

"We're building a raft. That guy there is an engineer."

Espen stepped closer.

"I can help you find boards and stuff. That will float."

The guy smiled again and the engineer looked up from arranging his tires. Sized up Espen.

"That would be great!" they said and Espen was off and running.

We salvaged lumber and boards, hell we even found a length of rope that Espen trotted back very proudly.

"You can TIE THEM TOGETHER NOW!!"

The engineer looked excited. The other guy bent down to Espen.

"Do you think we can make it, little man?"

Espen nodded furiously, his dreams coming to life before his very eyes.

The engineer now began to drill holes in the Styrofoam with a stick so he could loop the rope through and lash the tires together. Other guy, Espen and I started chatting.

It turned out that he was an airline pilot out with his good pal the engineer for an afternoon adventure.

He asked Espen's name, which the Bear happily explained meant Bear of the Gods.

The pilot nodded solemnly, "That's a good name."

"What's your name?" Espe asked the pilot.

"Sohail" replied the pilot.

"Is that Iranian?" I asked.

He nodded and added that he'd lived here since he was 5 or so. I apologized for our current administration.

"What does YOUR name mean?" I asked, curious.

"It's a special star. Really, it's kind of a Persian thing."

Espen looked impressed.

We asked the engineer what his name was and where he was from.

"Tashi. It's Pakistani."

"What does it mean?" asked Espen.

"It means the stars of the heavens."

I was excited now. "So you both have names that mean stars?! How lovely!"

They looked at each other and stared. Sohail laughed.

"We've known each other for 6 years and this has never come up."

Sohail and Tashi kept building and lashing their raft together which was looking more dubious by the minute.

When Sohail stepped aboard to test it, he nearly capsized himself before being hauled back to shore.

Espen was full of advice.

"Guys, guys," said the Bear wisely, "You need to LAY DOWN ON EACH OTHER AND PADDLE."

They stared at him and slowly nodded. It was a good point, but not one they were prepared to implement.

As we stood there watching the sun fade, Sohail got more enthusiastic about the venture while Tashi the engineer became increasingly reticent.

Espen was actively trying to throw himself onto the raft while they debated.

Finally, much to his chagrin, I had to extricate him from the grand scheme because I was due to teach yoga pronto.

Sohail and Tashi promised to leave the raft on the shore when they returned so Espen could find it if it succeeded.

Two days later, with stars still in his eyes, Espen and I returned to the scene of the scheme. There was no boat to be found, but the legend of the Middle Eastern Stars would live on....

Espen for Orlando

Orlando hit me hard. Tobias and I were in Sonoma on a romantic getaway to reconnect when it happened on our last day. I thought about the family members getting texts and calls from their loved ones as they watched their lives getting closer and closer to the end. I felt heartbroken at the helplessness to do anything to stop the killing and angry that there was still no reasonable action being taken by Congress to limit people's abilities to obtain weapons whose only purpose is to kill other people. The frustration at knowing that one crazy person at odds with themselves and their dominant culture could wreak so much havoc on so many people out to enjoy themselves. It was just too much. All the shootings and senseless, preventable violence. And now a particular group of people being targeted for decimation because of being born with a particular orientation.

The LGBTQ community holds some of my dearest friends and family members. People who have inspired me to be better, smarter, more creative and involved. That they should be singled out and killed made me want to do more than howl. It made me want to kick ass and take names. Lovingly, of course.

So when Tobias informed me that there would be a vigil for the Orlando victims, we immediately decided to go and show our support of the LGBTQ community.

As part of our preparations, Tobias worked going to a vigil into Espen's nightly bedtime story. These stories change every night and feature a "little boy" as the protagonist. He gets into many adventures and scrapes and manages to emerge ready for another night of story-telling every time.

On Thursday, Espen woke up and said, "I want to go to the vigil!" Throughout the day, we revisited the theme of attending the vigil and when Tobias arrived at home, Espen was raring to experience this mysterious vigil.

I, however, was bone tired from chasing said toddler around. The words, "If it were any other event besides this, I would stay home and sleep." may have crossed my lips, but I was resolute. We were going, tired or not.

And so the long journey began, during which, I may also have completely lost it with Tobias for failing to properly consider the logistics of getting food, parking and attending the vigil in an organized and timely fashion. With me in my diminished state, I was in no mood to wrangle the fickle opening hours of food carts and on street parking at an event that was supposed to have thousands in attendance.

We arrived, egos bruised, but resolve intact. Espen, in particular, was consistent in his advocacy of vigil attendance. "Vigil first! Then food carts! Vigil FIRST!"

Of course, the vigil started at his bedtime and went two hours past so we held the parental line in the order of progression, but I was still feeling mighty riled.

There is, however, nothing like a massive showing of solidarity and a galvanized community to completely change one's perspective.

The streets were filled with LGBTQ community members and their allies. Everyone seemed sad but also, resolute. Appropriate in their mourning and ready to organize for change.

Espen was transfixed. He kept beaming lighthouse smiles to everyone in the crowd and hugging Tobias and I over and over. Never once did he yell or behave out of turn. He witnessed with full attention.

And as we left, he looked back and said, "Mama, I want to go back to the vigil. I love those people so much."

I just wanted to mush him up and eat him.

"Where did the lost people go, mama?" he wanted to know. "Were they old and worn?"

"No, they weren't old. They passed away and we are all sad about it."

"Who are they, mama? What are their names?"

So I read him the names of all 49 of those beautiful souls that moved beyond the veil. He sat and listened quietly until I finished.

"Oh. Are they with Farmor Mimi?"

"Yes, they are."

"Alright, mama. I love them."

Hope for the future right there.

Espen Camino- Dragon Slayer

I've always had a pretty good imagination.

As a child, I used to imagine I had a portal to Neverland hidden in a glittery rainbow mobile that hung above my mirror. All I had to do was whisper, "I'm Peter Pan in Neverland." over and over until Tinkerbell arrived.

So, you can bet that Espen has already been exposed to a pantheon of unicorns, fairies and...dragon pills.

The thing is, these pills are legitimately called "Dragon Pills", which made them even more appealing in my eyes, and apparently, his too.

For the last year, I've been working with a Tibetan doctor to boost my immune system through an ongoing series of tiny little black pills that contain a variety of magical herbs that have been collected by monks and prayed over by nuns high in the Himalaya before being shipped to my door.

Being a responsible, though whimsical parent, I  have been clear with Espen that these little beauties are medicine and for mom only unless he is sick and mom gives him one.

And in my folly, yet again, I assumed that the heretofore uncrossed frontier of self-administering Dragon Pills would remain untested when I stepped into my morning shower.

For the last three months, we have had a routine. We wake up in the morning, we make breakfast, we eat, Tobias leaves for work, I clean up, I shower, Espen plays while I shower, life is beautifully rhythmic.

On this particular Friday, I had been in the shower for all of five minutes, when Espen came cackling into the bathroom.

This is fairly typical.

What was not, was the midnight colored drool ribbon-ing down the corner of his mouth and off his jaw.

He smiled at me, his mouth a black hole that looked like it had recently licked a cinder bucket.

I tried to stay calm. My voice may have lowered several octaves and become unnaturally slow.

"Espen, What. Is. In. Your. Mouth."

He laughed at me, gleefully raising his hands. "Dragon Pills, Mama!"


Some people leap into a flurry of activity when the world begins to crumble around them. Me? I just stood there in the warm shower, thinking for a split second that I could freeze time, just like I did in childhood.

Then Espen spoke. "Mama! Me get more!"

There is little magic on earth more potent than a toddler's declaration of intent.

I flew out of the shower as Espen careened from the bathroom and back towards the kitchen.
Somewhere in the midst of this, I managed to grab a small towel.

Hot on his heels, I charged into the hall and beheld the full extent of his intrepid foraging.

Speech rarely fails me, but on this occasion, I was utterly gobsmacked.

And completely nude.

Stretching from one end of the house to the other, a sea of tiny black spheres sat placidly on the surface of the floor.

As though carefully placed by an individual mastermind...or violently cast from the top of the previously inaccessible kitchen counter.

The only clue to the crime was a step ladder in front of the counter that had been mere decoration until this day.

It gleamed quietly, decoration, no longer--now elevated to the dubious heights of Accessory to Disorder.

What does one do in these moments?

My best guess was to immobilize the child.

Espen tried to skate on top of the Dragon Pills.
I began silently repeating my commitment to non-violent parenting.

Into the car seat went Espen Camino with a bevy of books and toys.
Back into the shower went I.

One has to collect one's thoughts before venturing into Utter Carnage, lest one be overwhelmed by the sheer destruction.

Once clean, I dressed myself with the resignation of a suicide bomber and headed back into the kitchen.

For the next hour I crawled about on hands and knees plucking each Dragon Pill off the ground.

Now, I knew from previous experience, that Tibetan herbs are not going to re-tool one's gut flora if ingested without authorization. I was also hoping Espen might puke just A LITTLE, if only to emphasize the importance of ONLY EATING PILLS ADMINISTERED BY A PARENT...but no such luck.

He babbled and chatted away in the car seat without any signals of impending physical distress. I repeatedly impressed upon him how utterly NO NO it was to eat pills. He demanded his release.

I, on the other hand, was experiencing significant levels of distress.

Everyone with any imagination knows that if toddlers were the physical size of adults, the world would be doomed. With little to no impulse control and the flexibility of a rubber band, there is nothing they could not or would not attempt. Respect and healthy fear would never enter the choice making equation.

Just so, I wondered, laboring over the hundreds of anonymous Dragon Pills,

How do you make the point that taking pills is a bad idea until you are at LEAST old enough to read directions?

Finally, the floor clean, I emancipated Espen from his car seat and took a moment to breathe. Two seconds later, he was on his scooter barreling down the hallway.

"Mama! My find Dragon Pill!"

"Bring it to me."

Silence.

I raced around the corner to behold my offspring drooling the black drool and smiling.

In my attempt to get his attention AND scoop the pill from his mouth, Espen began to laugh. And in this moment, realizing there was no way in hell he was going to pay attention to words, I clapped my hand solidly onto his behind. Just once. Just firmly enough to get his attention. And I said with my very firmest mom voice:

"Espen, you must NEVER EVER eat pills without mom giving them to you. Do you understand?"



He laughed again.

And I thought, "Have mercy."

Childproof Door Locks Are The New Atlantis

Many people think that a simple solution to your toddler escaping first bed, then room, is to purchase childproof door locks. They sound so fool proof on Amazon.com.

They look even more effective due to their draconian, confusing curlicues and deceptively blase' design. They even leave a large gap in the door so you and your kid can stare each other down.

And for the first application, they may be visually arresting to the point of immobilizing your wanderlusty 2 year old. 

But the luster of newness fades quickly. Soon they get down to the business of solving this new barrier to their freedom.

If Espen were to be cast as a dinosaur, he would be Velociraptor. You can actually see his brain figuring out how to bring down authority, door locks, and anything else standing between him and his objective. 

Case in point, last week I was home alone with the little raptor. It was Naptime and the child was not interested. His plans involved more bagels, more sand, more  freedom. Certainly not sleeping. 

Mom: Come on, Wesp. It's time for naps.

Espen: Why.

Mom: Because rest helps you get bigger and stronger.

Espen: My babe-o! (which means, "I'm Babe-o. Which means he's about to flip into his interpretation of what babies are like. Usually this involves a high pitched sustained sound like a siren.)

Mom: Ok. Babe-oes need rest even more than big boys because they are so small and growing.

Espen: Mama, go away.

Mom: Alright, but you need to stay in your bed and sleep.

Espen: Mama, go away. No put lock on door.

Mom: I won't as long as you stay in bed.

Espen: Ok. Mama go away.

So I leave, only to have him bound out of his room two minutes later.

Espen: Helloooooo mama!

Mom: Ok, now we are going back to your room and mom is putting the lock on.

Espen: (Wails) Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?!?!?!?!?!

Mom: Because that was the deal. You knew this.

Espen: NO PUT LOCK ON DOOR!!!

Mom: Next time you can chose to stay in your bedroom and we won't put the lock on.

Deposited in his room, with the lock on, the door has about 2 inch gap between the door and the door jamb. It's a big crack.

Up to this point in time, Espen has responded to the door lock by throwing himself on his bed and ragefully crying until he burns up the excess energy and falls peacefully to sleep.

Today, there was only silence. And the occasional sound of something scraping along the floor. I chose to ignore it as the only thing movable in his room is the large reading chair. 

You would think I'd have learned by now that ignoring strange noises leads to nothing productive.

Mais, non.

Ten minutes pass. Espen giggles. Makes jiggling sounds. Then silence. 

I tiptoe to his room. The door is closed with a tiny crack, just the way he likes it. The childproof door lock is lying quietly on his wooden horsie that I have removed to enhance boredom leading to sleep.

I crack the door. The chair is pushed up against it. Espen is sound asleep.

Not a word, not a "HA HA! MOMMA!" 

Just silent proof that you can't tame a wild animal.

Espen Vs. OMSI

Espen loves the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry. It's a Portland icon for children of all ages, and thanks to my bestie Lynsey, we discovered early on that there's a kids room chalk full of amazing kid activities. Giant sandpit with the softest, whitest sand you've ever seen. Waterville where you can splash and play in the safety of an OMSI provided smock. Faux grocery store where you can weigh your fake veggies and meats and set them up in attractive displays.

We got a membership soon thereafter and Espen now squeals "OM-EE!!! Om-EE!" and holds out his hand for a "Samp" (stamp) whenever we get close to it.

Most of the time we go directly to the kid rumpus room, but on this particular day, Espen wanted only to ride the escalator UP and the glass elevator DOWN. (And then up again, thank you very much.) I figured it wouldn't be the first time he'd be fascinated with moving staircases and flying glass boxes, so off we went. A test of my fortitude, you see.

For the next 45 minutes we made a giant circle between two floors in every conceivable combination of ascents and descents. Up the escalator, down the stairs. Up the elevator, down the stairs. Up the stairs, down the elevator. No down the one-way escalator (yet).

Provocatively, I was finding myself being lulled into a gentle, meditative state. OMSI is situated at a particularly picturesque spot on the Willamette River. Espen was a captive audience, so I could mostly stare at the water and enjoy the view.

That is, until the 17th ascent via escalator.
We had made a plan at the bottom.

Me: Ok, Espen, do you want to ride the elevator up AND down this time?"
Espen: Yeah!
Me: Alright, so when we get to the top and the doors open, we just stay there, OK?
Espen: Yeah! UP!

The ride up went smoothly. The waiting was fine. The doors started closing.

Espen looked at me, cackled, and dashed out.

The doors continued to close.

I jammed the "door open" button. (or was it the "door close"?)
Furiously.

Nothing. Except a last look at Espen's face as he realized I was not behind him. I was, in fact, hurtling downwards, away from him.

The wailing began. It was a high whine for the first five feet the elevator dropped and quickly built to a full fledged howl.

My mind raced. Would it be quicker to exit the elevator and run up the stairs or ride the elevator back up as soon as it touched down?

Espen continued to shriek, his vocal projection abilities shattering the impressive din that only hundreds of kids can generate.

Somewhere in the midst of his yowls of Infinite Sadness, I realized the fastest way back to him was staying on the elevator and doing nothing but pressing "2".

While I also realized that the elevator travels no more than 14 feet max, it was like waiting to see if you got a high enough D to graduate high school. You may graduate but you're not getting any medals.

The door slid open and I looked down. Espen was no where to be seen. Slight panic slid around my throat until I heard, "MA-ma!!!" and looked into the eyes of a stranger mom who was holding my kid.

"It's ok," she cooed. "See, your mommy came back."

Le sigh.

I thought about explaining the story but instead took Espen back and said thank you. It'd just sound like an excuse for running to get a latte' and blaming the kid.

Espen waved to the lady, clutching all the while at my neck. Then he looked at me and smiled.

"Poo."

Sure enough, aromas like last night's dinner were wafting out of his britches.

We walked to the car, Espen stretching out his arms, pleading, "OM-EE!! OM-EEEEE!!!!" to everyone we passed along the way.

Good practice for a lifetime of awkward parenting moments.