It’s our tradition to go camping at Mt. Rainier for a modest long weekend at some point during the Summer. It’s also tradition to take our au pair along for the ride. We all cram into our trusty “Egg”, a ’98 Honda Civic 3-door, stuffed tightly with kids, food, and camping gear and go tour our local iconic National Park. This year we were waiting anxiously for the park to open for travellers before Vivien’s mid-July move to her extension family in Hawaii. Seizing an opportune weekend post Fourth of July, we nabbed a reservation at Silver Springs Campground and we were set to roll. We have had good luck making the Silver Springs Campground our home away from home while exploring the mountain. It’s nestled just outside the northeastern border of the Park, near Crystal Mountain Ski Resort, in the Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest.

With Vivien in tow, we made a grand tour from Seattle to Paradise to Silver Springs. Since the Stevens Canyong Road was still closed due to snow damage, it was a long day driving all the way around the Park through Packwood, but we absolutely didn’t want to miss showing her our beloved Paradise. We arrived at our campsite as dusk was descending into the forest. Michael and Vivien worked together to efficiently erect the tents, aided by headlamp at the tail end. Meanwhile I got the kids in their pajamas and ready for their sleeping bags. It was Lady Kitty’s first night spent in a tent. She didn’t miss a beat, sleeping soundly all night in her Moses basket and Baby Gap Bear Suit, just like at home.

One of our Thermarest sleeping pad was inadvertently left behind. We were short a pad and the ground was crushed gravel, not the softest combination. Michael graciously volunteered to forgo a sleeping pad, since he took responsibility for having miscounted as he was packing the car. I made a quick calculation and prudently elected Lake to give up his sleeping pad instead. I surreptitiously layered Lady Kitty’s cotton diapers under Lake’s sleeping bag, and Lake wasn’t the wiser. I didn’t think it was fair to Michael to be punished for having been the one to do the packing. Also, Michael surely would have felt every inch of the hard ground if he had been the one to sleep without an air mattress, whereas Lake didn’t even blink–he was having the time of his life!

We made a day excursion up to Sunrise, where we enjoyed the incredible panoramic views and played in snow. This day we learned of the passing of Michael’s uncle David Alan Ayres, age 66, fairly suddenly to pancreatic cancer. We spent much of the day reminiscing about the hiking and camping trips Michael had experienced with his father, three uncles (including Dave), and cousins growing up. He shared fond memories with us as we gazed out over the mountains and forested valleys reflecting on a life well lived and the power of family.

Overall, it was a mighty sucessful camping trip. Michael and I were pleased (and we think Vivien, Lake and Lady Kitty were too). We were spared rain or other inclimate weather, and the mountain cleared for one crucial photographic moment. On our last day we stopped to hike one short stretch on the Wonderland Trail through montane forests and gushing waterfalls before heading back to the city. We drove home happy and fulfilled, most of our food eaten, and a little more leg room and worldly experience gained. A perfect Mt. Rainier Motor Tour 2020–I’m glad I spent it with you!

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“Your kids are the shining light of my golden years,” my Dad said to me glibly this evening. I got the feeling he was kind of mocking the cliché, and at the same time, I knew he was being absolutely perfectly 100% honest. Lady Kitty is five months old. She just cut her first tooth (bottom right), but she has this huge gummy smile still and a newfound hearty belly laugh that comes out when Lake is horsing around with her. NanaBaba are working on both kids word nutrition. Lake is learning some new words: enthusiastic, for example. “Are you enthusiastic for me?” Lake asked Nana. “Yes”, was her resounding reply. “I can’t believe we get to stay here for nineteen days,” said Lake, bursting with good fortune. I agree; by my calculation it’s more like 70 days (Lake’s still working on his maths), but either way it’s paradise! These days with my kids and my parents at Newman Lake are truly golden, strung together day after precious day, like a string of pearls. I’m reliving my childhood summers spent here at the Point Petite cabin with my grandparents. “It’s different here,” Lake said to me as I gave him the extra final tuck-in after an hour and a half of devoted NanaBaba bedtime stories, songs and tuck-ins. Yes, Lake. It’s different. It’s paradise.

Two nights ago Lake woke me up crying at 1am after having neatly vomited onto the edge of his bed. He’s such a well-mannered thoughtful kid, he even demonstrated how he leaned over so he wouldn’t get his pajamas dirty. Note to self— always turn the light on when woken in the night by a crying child in order to follow the cardinal rule for emergencies: survey the scene for safety! Half-asleep and alarmed by my shrieking son, I set my hand down right into the pile of vomitus, wet and chunky like Mr. Cat’s hairball. I ended up inadvertently smearing the vomitus further onto the carpet. The timing for our new flooring installation couldn’t be better: already scheduled for Monday. I was awake comforting Lake until 3am, wondering what it was he had eaten, as he had explosive diarrhea on the toilet. Was it something that spoiled on our recent camping adventure? Was it our beautiful home grown strawberries? I had let Lake eat the whole crop.

Well, it wasn’t the strawberries 🍓, because in the wee hours of this morning night I was struck with the food poisoning. I hadn’t eaten any strawberries 🍓. It must be something still in our fridge 😳…

Are we living in a post-truth society? A society filled with alternative facts, fake news, and conveniently absent denominators? It seems we’re more thirsty for truth now than ever before: reaching for our smart phones at every turn; then quenching our still-parched-throats with reality TV and memoir. Memoir, the art form of sifting through the mud of your life, looking for gold flakes, buried treasure, and the ultimate prize: veracity.

“My mama forgot to feed the cats!” Lake said, vetting his audience for their response to his mama’s cat-sitting shame. The shame of uncomfortable truths.

“The most interesting information comes from children, for they tell all they know and then stop.” ~Mark Twain

What happened in the intervening period from innocence to now? Are we so empty inside that we’re starved for approval? Are we so scared of rejection that we feel the need to lie? Perhaps there is an abundance of care and forgiveness available, after all. Perhaps we can be loved for our tired, poopy, messy selves. Perhaps people understand when we forget to feed the cats, even expect that we will sometimes forget to feed the cats. And then they love us anyway, in spite of this, because of this. They love us for our particular brand of forgetfulness, and the way in which we forgot. Maybe we can take children’s lead and simply blurt it out, like ripping off a Band-aid, exposing the truth to the open air so that we can heal.

Looking into a Lady Kitty’s trusting face–there is only truth. Lady Kitty is open, honest, and straightforward. She expresses her needs, her pleasures and her pains in no game of deceit, no conniving for power. And yet, her every wish is answered. She is loved unconditionally.

Honesty, how refreshingly simple. As fresh as a four year old, or a four-month-old-baby with a daisy.

Nana came to town and we’re so thrilled, especially Lake! They’re quite a pair. Nana commemorated our Greenlake walk this evening with a bunch of tree themed jokes. Nana is something else…endlessly creative! She made up these jokes on the spot for the occasion.

Which tree can you ride on? Horse chestnut

Which tree can you sit in? Cedar (seater)

Which tree is always sad? Weeping willow

Which tree has allergies? Cashew tree (a-choo!)

Which tree is not as healthy? Sycamore

And these jokes brought to mind in a flash the answer to a riddle crafted by Justin West that I’d been stumped on since the 30th of May:

What’s a contemplative tree? Ponderosa pine

And I cannot resist including Eve Bratman’s original tree themed joke:

What’s a mathematical tree? Trigonometry

What did Michael want for Fathers Day? A vacation from the job title on the holiday in question. I think that is what most everyone wants, really. So, after a brief breakfast party celebrating our awesome Daddums, classic Father’s day gifts were given (new shirts!). Then, the kids and I took off for the day, while Michael took the rest of the day off.

Michael was free to replenish his fuel tank. He’s such a great father, and he’s an even happier parent and partner after some time to himself. We all adore him. He even made us dinner that evening.

A perfect Father’s Day all around!

We revisited Franklin Falls today. Michael and I had hiked in 18 months ago in the snow to find a frozen world and a waterfall of adequate impressiveness. Today, Lake, Lady Kitty and Vivien also joined the party and we were out for an afternoon adventure. Franklin Falls was impressive. Early summer snowmelt roared out of the Cascade Mountains, tumbling over the falls, and rejoined a boisterous South Fork Snoqualmie River 70’ below.

Standing close I was pummeled by the forcefully pulsating falls. My dress quickly grew wet and clung to me. Looking up into the rushing water was like riding a roller coaster.

Laughter poured out of my soaked body with the delight of being touched by the wild. I howled and yodeled as all else receded. The myriad concerns of mothering and household management evaporated. There was no room. There was only nature’s baptism.

What a rush. It was hard to turn away. Highly recommend. A perfect day: I’m glad I spent it with you!

I adore Pamela Druckerman’s books. Of course, there’s the classic, Bringing up Bébé, but there’s also There are No Grown-ups: a midlife coming-of-age story. Therein she has droll lists highlighting the comical struggles of the decade; the decade that serves as an “intro to aging” or “Adulting 301” for most.

Here’s my: You know you’re in your forties when:

It takes nine miles to warm up for a run.

Your teeth suddenly and consistently get food stuck in them.

You have a few ex-friends.

Your highest aspiration in life is to have your medical chart read, “Delightful, well-appearing, vivacious, and pleasant. Well-groomed. Alert and oriented x 4. Bright affect, mood is stable.”

You recognize in real time when you need to shift into DIY Mother’s Day mode.

Your joints are not what they once were; you put your mountaineering skills to work hobbling around the house, chimneying down the stairwell and being thankful for handrails.

You can recall a time when you refinished your own hardwood floors and replaced any and all chandeliers with zeal, though it’s beyond you now.

You know how to spell hemorrhoids.

You can take a harsh analysis of your strengths and faults and accept them; you’re even learning how to work them to your advantage.

You see the forest for the trees and can (more often) let things go.

Be well,

xoxoTolle

www.bostonglobe.com/2020/06/14/opinion/black-mother-to-be-im-already-full-heartache/

My dear friend and neighbor Maya Angela Smith published this heartfelt personal essay today in the Boston Globe. I’m bursting with pride I love her so much. I can’t stop crying I love them so much. Congratulations on your publication, Maya. Lady Kitty will be your son’s fierce friend and defender. We’re here for you.

One week old Lady Kitty with Maya Angela Smith.

Lake having a snack before bedtime: I keep eating… like a baby dinosaur!

Later during the tuck-in, after our “songs (Katie, Twinkle, Baby Boats, Lake-Bake, and Chin Song) and a cuddle”, and a kiss (only on the lips Mama)…

Mama: have a blessed sleep, my love.

Lake: What does ‘blessed’ mean?

Mama: Wrapped up in the safety and grace of God, and God is love so it means sleeping all wrapped up in a cloud of love.

He was quiet, taking that in. I think he liked it.

Lake is learning new words every day. He still says ointmeal for oatmeal but he no longer says hopspital. Now he clearly enunciates hospital. He maintains a mild interest in speaking German. “How do you say that ‘very’?”

Sehr.

“Ich liebe dich sehr viel.”

“Ich liebe dich auch sehr viel, Lake.”

Lake is four years old. He’s growing so tall and charming. They both are! Lady Kitty is nearly four months old already! Blessed be.