So i moved my blog over here : www.mydearhazel.com
I fully expect all 16 of you to follow me over there.
that is all.

A sweet little lady for a sweet little lady

This girl turned out perfect. 

For baby Sage, my best dolly yet. 

I think I am ready to work on this little dolly business. 

I am ready to start a little shop. 

I know that it will take time, but I will work hard.

I need to stop making excuses. 

I need to just jump in.

little glimpses

We've been frequenting the library. We are a spectacle, always too loud and too rowdy. I find myself chasing hazel through the aisles replacing the books she pulls off of the shelves, trying my best to keep her quiet. She knows just where the Curious George videos are. When we are ready to go, Hazel insists on handing the librarian my card, and then one by one, each of the books and videos. They all think she is very sweet.

It has been chilly in recent days, but we have spent the last month or two going to every single park around. Some days two. I have been watching some boys for my friend, and when I have them I have to get out. It isnot easy to entertain three kids of varying ages in my home that is well equipped only for Hazel, and so to the park we go. Hazel's Toms shoes finally fit her. I have been waiting for months! Oh, and H is on the big-kid swings now. Well, only when there aren't baby swings available. Honestly she has taken some pretty gnarly tumbles off of those big-kid swings, and I m hesitant to continue using them, but she can't resist them, and it's not worth arguing with this kid. At 18 months, she knows exactly how to get her way. every. single. time. My hands are full. So is my heart. I guess that's what matters.

Oh Man. I have been so over blogging lately. I try. I write a draft. It just sits there, never to be posted. I have been over most things really, except for thing that make me feel like the old me.

 Sometimes I miss that old me SO MUCH! I want to go to parties, get silly drunk, and crash at a friend's place. I want to have the entire day to tear apart and repaint, reorganize, and redecorate a room. I want to go shopping alone, and not have to chase a rowdy toddler around the store, under clothing racks, and hope she doesn't break anything.

But, that's all part of the deal. I would never give up Hazel for that stuff, but that doesn't mean I can't miss it.

The mountains are beautiful. The mountains are lonely. I've said that before. It's still very true. Spending times with my friends in the valley only makes me feel it more. The place I live and love is so far away from the people I love. Its a bummer.

This little girl is really getting big. She does the sweetest things, and despite all of our shortcomings as parents, she really really loves us. She is so silly and happy in the mornings to wake up and play with us. She loves to yell "Daddy" when she can hear him upstairs, or she can see him from our deck outside. She also gives lots of kisses. She is great at climbing the ladder from the bedroom to the living room. In other words, she is Badass.

also, I got instagram. I'm pretty sure all of the 8 people who read my blog already know that. @mydearhazel

The view from my bedroom window on the morning of my grandfather's death

I awoke to Mike hovering over our bed where Hazel and I slept soundly. He seemed uneasy, not sure of what to say next. He quickly rested his hand on my shoulder and told me that my mother had texted him. My grandfather was gone.

This was not unexpected. We had been informed that his health was deteriorating last week,and so we went to visit. Upon visiting him I had my doubts. My grandpa has had his bad days, but he always springs back, and he didn't seem drastically different from the man I saw only a month ago. Yet, there was this lingering feeling that this might be it, the last time I see him. Nevertheless, I told him I would be back to see him soon as I kissed him goodbye. Goodbye.... When I told him I loved him he held my arm tight, as he repeated the words back to me, and I saw a glimpse of fear flash through his eyes. He, like me, was aware that this could be it, and it seemed that he felt he had to make it count. He said I love you with a wide awake face, although he had been groggy all night. He caught me off guard, so I said it again. "I love you Grandpa. Hazel loves you. we will be back soon."

I wasn't sure why we went really, until that moment, and until now. I felt like we were keeping him up; burdening him. I had come to feel that way often, when we would visit and grandma would force him up out of bed to come sit with us momentarily, before he would doze off and request to be taken back to his room. We had arrived to find him surrounded by family. My oldest brother hooking up a television for him on the wall, my aunt and uncle who just arrived home from a mission, and lots of tiny great-grandchild faces,excited to see grandma and grandpa. Everyone was speaking to him slowly, as if he were a child. Telling them who they were. There was always recognition though, at least while I was there. He knew what was going on, which of his beloved family members was there to see him, and everything that they were saying. Now I know that we were anything but a burden. We were who he wanted to see. All of us. But then that moment when he grasped my arm and told me the thing I was there to hear him say, I knew why I came. To say goodbye, even if it might not be the last time. But it was.

The funny thing about losing someone you love dearly, but who is removed from your daily life is that, it just goes on. You still send your husband off to work, let the dogs out, make breakfast. You still sweep the floor. You still nurse your child, and post photos to instagram. And then you start to wonder, what difference did he make in my life? What difference did I make in his? But by the end of the day, when you are exhausted beyond any normal measure, you realize that just your knowledge of that person's existence is a part of you. The knowledge of their absence is also a part of you, and it is a draining knowledge. The what-ifs weigh heavily on my mind. Did I know him enough? Did I talk to him enough? What if there are things that went unsaid? Do I remember him when he was active and funny, when he used to pick me up, or tickle me, or is that all made up memories juxtaposed with stories I have heard from the memories of others into the man that I think he was? What could I have done to know this man more deeply? To understand him. Why even wonder these things? Should I try harder with my remaining grandparents, or is this simply how I will feel when each of my loved ones passes away before me. First my grandparents, then my own parents, someday most likely my own husband.

This is not the first death I have experienced, but it is the closest to my heart. A man who I assume I met on the very day I was born, who I have known for almost 24 years exactly, but who I feel I still know so little about. I suppose this is something I must prepare myself for over the coming years, but I can safely say it is not something I will ever get used to. Having someone who has always been there, who suddenly isn't. Just isn't.

Mary Kae, my mother, with her father William Lorenzo Perkins
on her baptism day

My house is a mess and I have a mountain of laundry to fold. instead I am eating a parfait, blogging, and enjoying some alone time while Hazel naps.

I don't know if I ever talked about our experiences with pediatricians after our homebirth. My midwife suggested I make an appt. with a pediatrician a week or so after Hazel was born. My midwife performed the newborn screening, and checked up on us throughout the first week, so it would have been redundant to have her seen during that time. She mentioned vaccinations, tests, and screenings that are normally done in the hospital before a baby is released, which we might want to consider. A friend recommended a Ped, in Kamas, so we figured why not? He was after all the closest Ped. to us, and our friend liked him for her home-birthed children. His nurses were ignorant, and rough with Hazel which was shocking after our experience with our gentle midwives. They paid no attention to her cries, and carelessly placed her tiny naked body on a freezing cold scale to weigh her,nd they misread her weight 3 times. They used a rectal thermometer to take her temperature after the one they were using on her foot gave a low reading (her foot, really? The farthest hing from her heart, and the coldest appendage on her body?) It was obvious that they didn't have much experience with newborns. They were utterly baffled by our homebirth, and asked us if it was an accident....The doctor talked to us for 5 minutes. He spouted rehearsed rhetoric about vaccinations and tests, while giving us no real information. He failed to answer any of my questions about the ingredients in the prescriptions he was writing, or which vaccination companies he carried. He then sent us to the hospital (the place we had been avoiding all along) to have the PKU test performed, which he assured us was a simple heel prick, a test that every child receives, which is no big deal.

Here's the thing. When I imagine a "prick" I imagine my diabetic grandmother testing her blood. No big deal. well the PKU is NOT a prick. It is a pretty good poke, followed by six minutes of some lurchy looking nurse with buggy eyes squeezing my innocent, newborn babies leg as hard as she can, and milking the blood from her calf down to her heel, all while my baby screams in pain and terror. You think I am being dramatic? Imaging being a newborn who hasn't experienced anything but the peaceful, warmth and darkness of the womb, and the recent difficult and undoubtedly scary trip through the birth canal. Everything is new and different, except your mother, and to a lesser degree your father. How would you feel if you were that newborn. I think people have a complete disregard for the emotional well-being of newborns. They just assume that since these little beings can't talk, that they can't think, and dont have feelings, and that they are unaware, for example, of the lack of their mother's presence while they are in the nursery. That is bogus. those babies are alone, they know it, and they are scared shitless. Let's not even go into the barbaric practice of circumcision, the completely unnecessary, and contraindicated practice of cutting of part of a male infants most sensitive body part using little to no anesthesia. If you are going to tell me that this is no big deal, that they hardly feel it, or that they don't remember it I urge you to watch this video of the actual procedure being done, and then tell me that it doesn't constitute human torture. Then tell me you didn't cry. That you weren't disgusted. If you think that cosmetic reasons are good enough justification for torture........I have nothing to say to you. (actually I do, but I will restrain myself)

Regardless, back to the PKU. If I were a newborn I would be terrified. The shittiest part? The PKU can be performed using urine samples. They don't tell you that because its quicker to get a babies blood right after birth, than to wait for them to begin nursing, and metabolizing, and producing enough urine to fill a diaper enough to use for the test. Instead they want to poke and prodd your baby because your baby is defenseless, and so they can. They prefer to do this when you aren't around to witness it, because "it often makes parents uncomfortable". If by 'uncomfortable' you mean it makes me want to call you a lying bitch and tell you to get the F*$& away from my baby and quit making her bleed, then yeah. It made me uncomfortable. In fact, it was my first big parenting fail. Handing my baby over to doctors and allowing them to hurt her for no good reason. Those tests were pointless. They never even called us to talk about the results.

Looking back, I was just uninformed. I had planned so well for labor and birth, but hadn't thought at all about what comes next. In my mind our visits, which have dwindled, were a complete waste of time. When I have another child there will be no PKU, no circumcision if it is a boy, no hearing test. So long as my midwife is confident that there are no signs of any complications following the newborn screening done in-house immediately after birth, I see absolutely no reason for my child to see a doctor. A year ago I would have thought that was extreme. Now I think doctors can be extreme. Now I worry that a majority of what goes on in a doctors office is in order to avoid malpractice, and is in the best interest of the doc, not the patient.

I certainly do think there is a time and a place for pediatricians. When Hazel is sick, the first thing I think of is taking her to the doctor. I am completely aware of the fact that these tests have indicated diseases and abnormalities in children, which may have otherwise gone unnoticed, sometimes until it is too late. I know that check-ups sometimes reveal complications. I have read a number of books on vaccination. I'm not uninformed, and I am often wonder about my choices concerning Hazel's healthcare (or lack thereof). I am extremely proactive though. I do a lot of research. I know where she should be developmentally and physically. I make sure that she is getting everything she needs. I try to feed her a variety of nutrient rich-foods. I keep her away from large groups of children who may be spreading viruses or bacteria because she is currently not vaccinated.

Im not really sure what the point of this post is, but I was thinking through that trip to the pediatricians office, and the hospital today. And the subsequent visits, which have been more and more disappointing. Maybe someday I will take her in for a checkup and they will find something. something wont be right. But maybe not. Maybe she will be completely healthy and normal at every check up and I will just feel the visits becoming more and more pointless.... who knows.

This girls is gettin BIG. Can't believe it, time is flying by. We are workin hard around here. Planting little flowers, laying flagstone patios. The yard is looking pretty. I'll have to take a picture. Making big plans for inside. changing stuff up, need to add some more hazel-space to this funny little cabin. Small spaces for her things. A little work-table, some low shelves, an easel, and some shiny new things to help her learn. I have been studying up on Montessori and I am thinking I'll get my training done. It will be expensive, but then I can get a jobby-job at a Montessori school and Hazel can attend for free (it is SOOO expensive). And if I decide to home-school her using the method I will have the training. It is just such an amazing method. People often say "I went to public school and I turned out alright". Well, I didn't. Montessori is the answer. It's lovely, and it should be the way all children are taught. Especially that math sequence. I have come to understand more about mathematics in the last few weeks of studying Montessori math (for 3-6 year olds) than I ever understood before...and it is fun! Math the Montessori way is fun. So tactile. If you are curios, look it up on Youtube. Maybe after Montessori training I will think about another babe, but for now it's just the three of us. We're off to Maryland in a few weeks. I'm dreading the flight. Hazel can't be reasoned with. This stubborn, demanding girl. I'm sure everyone on that flight will love us by the end of it. I can't sleep because of a scurrying mouse in my ceiling. I'm sure as soon as I doze it will attack me. Cabin living......

Summer

Happenings

I made this little tank top, and these little shorts.

 Hazel got a tiny little play pool one day before we went to my dad's for dinner, so we filled it up for her to play.

 Biked to a Deer Valley concert.

 Been workin on our yard.

 Hazel's playland

 Little chair. 

Little Tricycle.

She climbs on and rocks back and forth to tell you to push her.

Even though she drives me crazy sometimes, I really love this little girl she is becoming.