Great Grandma Love

Our trip continues.  We spent a few days with Nick's aunt and uncle in Santa Barbara.  The beauty of their home was surpassed only by the fun we had with them: visiting out by the gorgeous pool looking out over the Pacific Ocean, or over dinner at one of the local restaurants.  Cora was spoiled, of course, and after a bit of a warm up period, managed some good snuggles.  Especially with Aunt Carolyn. 

Cora continues to surprise me with her happiness to be on the road.  She doesn't seem phased by the different rooms we've been in, or the new people she meets.

We've been in San Diego for the last few days, mostly here to visit with my grandmother.  I have really enjoyed my time visiting and am so happy that she has gotten the chance to meet Cora. 

Nick and I lived in San Diego for three years before moving to Portland almost 5 years ago.  During that time I was lucky to get to know my grandmother better.  Since we lived in Canada, then Texas, and then Washington State while growing up, we never got to spend very much time with my Dad's side of the family.  So I really loved having the chance to try and make up for some lost time while living down here, seeing Grandma and Aunt Louise and my cousins.

Cora was a hit at the retirement home, bringing smiles to the residents who stopped to get a peek of her shy little smiles.

Grandma's friend Judy was visiting too and scored some Cora time.

Grandma, Judy and Cora and Aunt Louise

Sadly, I am not really designed for the California sun.  The rain and the green and the trees of the northwest are definitely home, but I do miss it down here sometimes.  Even so, I'm feeling a little bit sad as we think about packing up our things to start the trip back up to Oregon tomorrow.  It's sad to say goodbye.

Time flies when you're having fun.

Daddy's Phone Pics

 

 

 

Swimming in Santa Barbara

 

Perfect Day

 In order to avoid the 105 degree heat today we took a quick trip to Morro Bay, where it was at least 30 degrees cooler.

We picnicked on the grass next to a playground, then walked along the strip to get ice cream.

Next came the beach, where Justin and Olivia caught sand crabs.

 And Cora ate sand.

Cora wants sand to be the new food group.  Or avocados.

 Then Nick provided me with the biggest laugh of the trip to date.  After deciding to clean the sand from Cora's face and mouth, he came back with her cup.  He proceeded to remove the lid and then dump the water into the lid.  He ignored me as I asked him what he was planning to do, when suddenly he threw the cup of water right into Cora's face!  He seriously thought this was the best course of action.  Seriously.  He wasn't trying to be mean or funny.  But I just about fell over and peed my pants.  I will never understand men. 

Cora was pretty shocked too, but handled it with grace.  And admittedly, after a couple swipes with a wipe or two, she was mostly clean, if a little bit blotchy.

A collaborative and incredible feast of grilled fish tacos at the house, where Cora went crazy on some guacamole wrapped up the day.

A beautiful, beautiful day.  Thanks to Justin, Beth and Olivia for a great time.

OK, not the greatest group shot. Cora getting bored, Olivia looking away and Beth taking the photo. We tried.

This Little Trooper

Cora is now officially my favorite little road-tripper.  During the entire day yesterday I think I heard only 1 little whine, when Signing Time ended for a few minutes.  Other than that, she sits happily in the backseat, content until we let her out of her dungeon.

And yes, I do mean dungeon.  We have a little car.  Strapped on top is a small Thule cartop carrier stuffed with camping gear.  Next to that her stroller is tied on, along with her travel high chair, and Nick's current experiment: a solar panel hooked up to a battery.  You know, in case you need to air up your aerobed or charge your laptop in the redwoods. Just what you never knew you needed.

Inside the car is packed to the gills.  Little girlie's carseat is rear-facing in the middle of the backseat, with coolers and bags strategically stacked around her so that nothing will fall on her if things shift.  And they are literally stacked to the ceiling.  So our sweet girl is essentially in a dark little dungeon, left alone to sign to herself, chew on her Sophie and be entertained by the ever-present Signing Time DVDs.  We've thought about rearranging, so she can be by the window and actually see out.  And we may actually do that.  But with her little sun sensitive self and the current outside temperatures in the 100s it hasn't seemed urgent to rearrange.  So for now she's rocking her little backseat cave.

Today is Day 5 of our trip.  Yesterday, we drove for a few hours and arrived here in Atascadero, California to spend time with one of Nick's childhood best friends, and his wife and daughter. 

We enjoyed last night eating great food and catching up with good friends.  Cora is getting used to her new 4-year old friend Olivia and is tolerating the 2 chihuahuas pretty well too. Since it's ridiculously hot, we'll be taking a 20 minute drive to the beach for the afternoon.  Yes, California at its best!

Road-Tripping- Northern California

Day 3 of the road trip we've been planning for ages.

And yes, it's honestly been a lot of time in the car.  Because, with a baby in tow, a 5 hour drive becomes an 7 hour drive.  But I have to send a thank you card to Rachel Coleman, because Baby Signing Time has been saving this trip, keeping Cora entertained in her rear-facing carseat on the portable DVD player.  This girl is rocking the road trip from all angles.

We spent the first 2 nights in the redwoods, camped out beneath the trees.  I guess I had a pretty specific picture of our redwood adventures in my mind, complete with perfect picturesque photos of Cora beneath the giant sequoias.  But of course, my lack of photography skills and lack of a decent camera had other ideas.  So I got mediocre pictures but still managed to have a great time.  

My delectable girl apparently made a delicious feast for a handful of mosquitoes, and her sweet little face is now covered with little pink welts, but she hasn't seemed to mind.

Planning a trip via the internet these days has it's downside, though.  Today, despite the quiet misgivings I had as we made our way for a 45-minute detour off Highway 101 to find our next campsite, we trekked on.  With temperatures in the 90s (please don't find me too insensitive, since I KNOW so many of you are dealing with ridiculous temperatures this summer...) Cora and I and our heat sensitive, overly emotional selves were ready to arrive at our destination and take a dip in the long awaited lake.  But alas, the campground was virtually empty, dusty and dirty and crawling with creepies, the lake stagnant and full of clumps of things we had no desire to dip our toes into. 

Nick luckily saved the day for my red-faced little girlie, plopping her down under a faucet and letting her play in the water for a few minutes.

 We speedily packed our stuff and hit the road again, landing an hour or so later at a Best Western where we happily had a swim in the pool with a gleeful little girl, bathed her in a real tub, made ham sandwiches and tucked our happy little girlie into bed.

Internet access and a cold beer.  Complimentary breakfast in the morning without the work of breaking camp.  Aaah.  I admit that it feels so much better than a dusty patch of dirt beside a creepy-crawly lake.  I feel a little spoiled and elitist at the moment, actually, but am still happy from my perch.

Tomorrow we will drive some more and arrive at our next destination to visit one of Nick's best friends.  It's amazing how quickly a trip like this sucks up time.  What felt like a long 2-week trip now feels like a quick 2-week trip, and I find myself missing potential visits on the way, like meeting up with some blogging friends I'd love to see.

As it is, we have missed one heck of a party this weekend with my crazy Canadian side of the family.  Somehow I think they managed to have fun without us.

Until I post again from the road....

A Good Cry: Summer Disability Series Blog Hop!

As the final post for the  Summer Disability Series Blog Hop, this week's assignment is to re-post a favorite post from the past. 

I had a hard time deciding on this.  Some of my favorites really just describe Cora's antics and the small details of our lives.  But I wanted to choose something a little more heartfelt.  Reading through my posts over the last year and a half, I chose one from November, when Cora was 10 months old.  

It may seem a little depressing at first glance, but what I like is that it discusses a resurfacing of my initial raw grief and sadness over Cora's diagnosis while allowing me to realize that acknowledging that sadness doesn't negate my pride, joy and acceptance of Cora.  It was my small way of learning to come to terms with emotions I had largely suppressed and allowing me to start getting over my own guilt.

A Good Cry

A few days ago, driving in my car, switching radio stations to find songs that suit my mood, I heard a woman on the radio give her story of the day.  I'd heard her stories a few times before.  Always a little sappy, a little sweet, a little heartwarming.  Sometimes you'd roll your eyes just a little.

She started telling a story of a little boy at a pet store looking at puppies.  When the boy saw a puppy with a limp, he told the shopkeeper he wanted to buy that puppy.  The shopkeeper tried to talk the boy out of it, and when the boy insisted, he then tried to give the puppy away free.  But the boy wouldn't hear of it and insisted on paying full price.  The man went on to tell the boy that the puppy would never learn to run and jump and play.  Then the boy revealed the brace on his own leg.  He told the man that he didn't run so well himself, and that the puppy would need someone to keep him company and love him as he is.  The woman on the radio went on to talk about recognizing value in people, things and animals that may not seem, at first glance, to be perfect.  (Her version was scripted much better than my own.)

And even though I wanted to roll my eyes, I found myself crying.

...crying because I so want my daughter to be recognized as valuable.  And I know that it may be an uphill struggle.  I know that many people wouldn't have chosen a child not viewed as perfect, and that ultimately, with modern prenatal testing, more and more people will be getting the opportunity to make that choice.  And they'll likely be making that choice based on fear, without the benefit of witnessing the beauty, joy, love and value that can exist in that child.  At that moment, alone in my car, the thought was so raw and so painful.

I turned off the radio and cried.

And then strangely, my emotions shifted, and out of nowhere I was struck with a glimmer of my initial grief:  the grief that tore through me when Cora was born, but that I didn't allow to stay.  Shocked, but unable to hold it back, I let myself cry, all the while feeling like I was somehow betraying my girl.  Through my tears I questioned how I could be feeling grief over something I love so deeply.  If I feel sadness, how can I expect others not to fear what I have, or not to have pity, let alone to recognize what a gift my daughter is?  How could I reconcile this startling sadness with the overwhelming love I have for this child that I would walk through fire to choose again and again?

A few moments later a sense of peace came over me and I was struck with gratitude.  Gratitude of course, for my beautiful girl and for the pure joy that she brings to my life.  Grateful also that I was smart enough and humble enough to recognize something good when I delivered her on my living room floor.

But grateful too, for that small moment of sadness that I shared with myself alone at a stop light: for allowing my defenses to bend for an instant, to let in my own worries and fear and sadness, still recognizing that it doesn't negate my love.  It doesn't counteract my fierce desire to protect Cora or to share her beauty with the world.  It is just a small part of me now.  Maybe a part that I didn't know was still lingering.  But it's a part I can accept for a little while at least, knowing that it'll get smaller every day, as it's eclipsed by my daughter's smile.