I’ve had this idea for a while now to take Lake’s photo with Paddington Bear, the two of them dressed up for adventure together. Well it was just one of those days. Paddington Bear, Maddington Bear, Saddington Bear. We did cover a lot of territory today, just not in the way I had originally imagined. A perfect day, I’m glad I spent it with you…

The most fun you’ll have all Saturday, she challenged. It took me about 6 minutes to climb up and back to set up the rope for today’s swing, Ryan confided. Would you like to take a swing, James invited.

Yes, yes, and yes, said I! Swinging the evening away under the 20th Avenue pedestrian bridge with the Ravenna Swing Crew was a fantastic experience. All about me was the bright green foliage, and the fresh sweet forest air. Everyone was smiling. Michael joined us after work. Lake enjoyed the giant soap bubbles the friendly crew created. I swung again and again out into the vegetated ravine. It was indeed the most fun I had all Saturday! And it was altogether perfect day, spending it with Lake.

Every once in a while it’s good to get away. Especially as a mum, time away to retreat, recharge and recenter is invaluable. Lake is the cat’s meow to be sure, however even so it’s all-consuming being a parent, and a mum especially. It’s easy to lose my center in the midst of the family dynamics and toddler antics. The Synergy Yoga Ayurveda Teacher Training program of 2017-18 provided regular opportunities to retreat from the mummy role and emerge even stronger than before. The program culminated in our final retreat last week on Whidbey Island at its bespoke Institute. To be riding the ferry across the water into the portal of sacred Tolle space, this was a deep gift. I am filled with gratitude for all those who made these immersive experiences possible: my husband and son, parents, mother-in-law, and our consecutive German au pairs by letting me go, as well as the teachers and my courageous cohort of students for taking me in. Now, in the weekend post-retreat, it’s a time of integration for the work of true transformation.

This fun man is Lake’s Dad. He’s ready to take on any challenge with humor, grace, and aplomb. And he doesn’t mind having his ribs jumped on. I adore watching the way they look at each other. Father-Son is such a special relationship. We celebrated with gifts, pie (of course!), and a bicycle picnic to Warren G. Magnuson Park. The recipe for a perfect day with a perfect Dad. We’re so blessed! We love you, Michael Ayres VanLaanen!

While reading Autobiography of a Yogi by Paramhansa Yogananda I came across the phrase: Baba anand (Bliss to you dear one). Baba is dear one in Sanskrit/Hindi, an honorific, used widely in Northern India for Grandfather, wise older male or Saint. Fitting that Lake volunteered the nickname Baba for my father. They are quite a pair. Baba is Lake’s dearest friend, also his Grandfather, wise older male, and quite possibly a saint.

Lake has been known to climb up into Baba’s lap and say, completely unsolicited, “Happy Baby,” and seal it with a kiss. Baba: dear one, for sure! Happy Father’s Day Weekend, Baba/Dad! We love you!

Lake decided Miss Kitty is a rabbit instead of a cat. He calls her “Missy.” Lake loves rabbits and calls them all “hop!” Today he declared “Missy: No Cat… Hop!”

Maybe this explains why Missy is not so into our two lovely male cats: Mr. Cat (aka Serena) and Mr. Silky (aka Friendly). They’re an entirely different species! What a perfect day… I’m glad I spent it with you.

It’s special having Ravenna Park here in Seattle and so close to home. These long evenings nearby to Summer Solstice lend themselves to outdoor adventures, to exploring our own neighborhood, to reveling joyfully in new experiences. It’s the salmon berries that catch my attention. These woods here are a bit of the woods from back home on the [Olympic] peninsula. The salmon berries show me that I am in my native land. I felt it my duty as a mother and a native Pacific Northwesterner. I must introduce Lake to the tart, bitter, watery, and yet sometimes plump, flavorful and slightly sweet, always alluring bold orange berries that are the hallmark gems of the coastal lowland forest. He ate them up! Lake loved it as I told him the story of their native origins and he wanted to keep eating those late spring early summer jewels of the forest.

This is the question that our family is constantly considering… How tall will your adult baby be? How tall will Lake grow up to be? We’re fairly obsessed with this question in our house. Since Michael is 6 1/2 feet tall, he’s always enjoyed the benefits of height. He’s anxious to pass that along to Lake. Lake has always pleasantly hovered around 75-80 percentile for height, however according to our pediatrician, that is not a strong correlation for adult height. It turns out that the best predictor for adult height is the toddler height at 30 months (1 1/2 years old).simply double the height at 30 months. Voila, you’ve got a pretty good estimate of your baby’s fully grown adult stature. “You’ve got to keep feeding him, you know”, our friend gently reminded us. Well that, and we’re grateful for his health and joy too, no matter what his size.

“Lake is so long” says Grandma Annie. Long and tall like Daddy? Six more months until we can do the 30 month maths!

What did you do in Switzerland? What did you see in Europe? Well, we spent much of our time eating together lunches and dinners. It’s a really lovely experience, to be part of an family full of constant activities, with the heart around the hearth.

The meals slowly evolve as we eat. Through anecdotes from the day, and investigations into the taste of a certain cheese the mealtime and communion unfold. The stories are all true of the French gastronomy: the importance of eating well and eating together.

The salad might be made once the first course is eaten. Would you like some salad? Of course everyone does. The home made olive oil and balsamic vinaigrette salad dressing is a Swiss staple in my mind. So good on a simple butter lettuce with leaves left large. Perhaps a ripe tomato. Perhaps not, simply plain. Someone wants more omelette? A second egg is scrambled. The cheese course is nothing formal. Someone asks for cheese. Which kind? Perhaps several are produced. The cheese is passed around, the rind being cut in the process. Then more water is drunk.

The meal is convivial jovial light hearted and very busy, lots of activity, everyone bubbling with conversation. An hour passes easily in this manner, even for the midday meal when the children come home from school. The chopping, cooking and table setting as well as the washing up and putting away are community affairs and bookend the meal.

In between meals go shopping for fresh groceries. We walk or drive past a diverse array of neat fields growing the fruits and vegetables we find in the stores and buy for our table. The farmers are often seen out tending their crops. We discuss and plan future meals like we’re co-conspirators colluding on a special event with exciting gossip. The results are delightful. The simplest meal can still be the foundation for something beautiful, delicious and the framework to build a contented life on. It’s the original Slow Food. A perfect holiday, I’m glad I spent it with you!

Here I went to school in Brig at Kollegium Spititus Sanctum as an exchange student during my gap year 1995-96. To the left of my right earlobe (shown above) is the window from our classroom where I basically spent 9 months of daydreaming. I spoke no German beforehand and the classes were taught in German. Outside the classroom all the people spoke local dialects “walliserdietch”. In the classroom I was enrolled in the “Languages curriculum”: German, French, Italian and English. I think the “Latin Curriculum ” would have been just as obscure to me and possibly more useful for my later years of medical school. The only class I really understood was Math! Ah, maths, the universal language! I still recall the moment of mirth in comprehension that the word “root” was also a word with two meanings in German when we received instruction on square roots. I recognized the word “Wurtzel” from plants, trees, orchards and vineyards, and found the [] surprising and amusing!

Today we returned on pilgrimage. Lake was duly impressed!

In the afternoon we walked in The Goms Valley and had a lovely dinner outside at the Source du Rhône Restaurant which is literally at the origin of the Rhône River. Tonight I sleep at my host parents home with the rushing sound of the Rhône River just a few meters out the window. My trip down memory lane is filled with good stories and we’ve just added a new chapter!