It’s too beautiful outside to stay here, so I’m just stopping in briefly. We have seedlings so many teeny seeds to plant, and sun to soak into our rather still pale skin from the winter. There’s our cardinal nest (up high in our evergreen) to watch, and too much rhubarb to eat. And eat I’m doing. Though I have this inkling it might be making the baby gassy – is there truth to that? And plenty of dirt to eat, man-cub style. Oh yes. Can you hear my patience growing? (I’m really trying).

The petals are falling and filling the breeze with scented, pink sweetness. We are surrounded by crab apple trees, and bushes and shrubs of all flowering varieties. And sometimes if you stand in the right place at the right time, you feel like you’re in a slice of peace. Wherever and whatever that is. It’s truly wonderful. And just what happened the days we (finally) brought our son home from the hospital.

If there was a way to recreate and share this experience I’m sure we could heal much anger, family rifts and erase resentment. The world would be a very peaceful place.

When the little man-cub was about 7 or 8 months old, we thought (that’s my daughter and I) that we saw signs and heard sounds to indicate that he liked yellow. We did tests with multicolored wood blocks. Pages in his favorite board books. I suppose we’ll have awhile to wait to see if our little color adventures were in the right direction, but suffice it to say we felt we had enough to go on to decided, at least for now, that yellow is his favorite color. So we planned his first birthday party around it. Naturally.

Yellow balloons, tissue paper poufs, a yellow bunting for the picnic table… and a neon yellow dress for the big sister. Neon yellow has been a new favorite around here (started in Paris last winter). And since sleep has been, well, a little too short (still) to make me feel at all human most days, we elicited Grandma’s help in making a birthday dress.

My daughter chose the pattern, an old 1960s-era scooter dress & blouse we found on Etsy.

What a fabulous design – both the dress and the blouse are stand-alones, but together they are simply beautiful, I think. We chose a Cloud 9 organic cotton piece we had saved up in our stash for the blouse, and a stunning bright neon yellow cotton for the dress, lined in organic cotton voile.

We lengthened the sleeves on the blouse and made it V-neck for comfort – and comfortable it is. It stayed on long after the dress had decidely had too much party – and chocolate, tomato sauce and grass stains to inaugurate its welcome.

We have more of this fabulous true neon yellow fabric. What kind of dress should we make for our shop with it, do you think?

It was a wonderfully special dress, for a very special day. For a girl who couldn’t be a prouder big sister, of that I’m certain.

This year I did a lot of thinking about maternal health and neonatal care. How so many women in this world of ours, right now, give birth alone, with no support, no proper food or water, no midwives, no access to emergency care. No prenatal vitamins. No nothing. And how when babies are born like my son was, in far too many places in this world, right now, they usually are not given the chance to live because there is no emergency care available.

So today on Mother’s Day, on the heels of my son’s first birthday (yay!!) I hugged my two amazing kiddos and we’re going to the Market to get some veggies… and will spend the day thinking and planning on how we as a family can better support maternal health and care for babies… picking out an organization we will suggest to our extended families to support instead of spending cash on our traditional North American Mother’s Day.

My Mother’s Day is every day because I get to hold the son that lived because he was born in Ottawa. Not Niger. Not rural Pakistan. Or remote Indonesia. Or somewhere in the mountains of Bolivia. And while that’s wonderful for me, it’s just not fair. It would be wonderful if we could spend part of our collective North American Mother’s Day conversation and effort on mothers elsewhere, and maternal health… and how it makes all the difference in the world.

It is my wish, today, that when my son and daughter are grown and ready, perhaps, to have their own children, that the other mothers and fathers around the world living in countries so far away are also able to have the kind of care and support they all deserve.

(photo at top via Flickr here  and hands photo, above, via Flickr)

It’s been a flurry of history fair costumes (and that wonderful historical hat tutorial I promised… will definitely post next week) and family visits and 1st birthday preparations. Perhaps the sweetest prep has been in the hands of the man-cub’s big sister, who was the first to touch him as he was born, and has been in constant companion this year.

(wooden robin toy from ImaginationKids and our new family favorite – the Bear stories – from Barefoot Books)

She decided to make him a “10-reasons why I love you” card book, similar to the one she made for her dad and I blogged about here.

And to know the two of them – the two children I have been honored with being a mother to – have one another and love one another…. well, that’s the best thing in the world, isn’t it?

It looked just like this the day you were born, my little one. The blooms, the buds – the world – seemed to be holding its breath, just waiting to burst into full & pulsing color. The day we came home from the hospital, after a long week where you struggled and healed so courageously, our garden and everyone’s garden, it seemed, had blossomed and the world was lit up with petals and tulips.

The sour cherry bush we planted for you is in bloom too, nourished by the placenta we shared.

I knew it would happen like this. I would close my eyes with you to sleep, and then suddenly, somehow, you would be one and a whole year – your baby year – will have sped by. It always happens like this. And my heart is full with love and gratitude for your being here, in every sense of the word. And there is a little rough sandpapery part of my heart that struggles with the speed of it all, and wishes, wishes you might slow down a little. My last baby. The last firsts.

Oh, my son, I love you forever. Thank you for being here and teaching us so much in such a short time. And happy birthday.

This no-shoes dirt play is very interesting. I don’t think anyone is watching me right now.

Squishy.

Very squishy.

Big sister, please.

Those look quite squishy. Hmmm.

Let me have a closer look.

I see. More dirt. More dirt.

For the last 2 years, the Ottawa tulips have sneaked up on the Festival held in their honor every May. I remember walking waddling among them this time last year, wondering when this big boy in my belly would make his appearance. And now we walk among them again, with that soon-to-be-one birthday boy up in my arms, strapped onto my belly. Still, in my arms. (Can that be forever?)

I finally took inspiration from the many fields of tulips around Ottawa this time of year, and planted them ever so tightly together in our front yard last fall. Too tight, I thought. But now that they are coming up, I realize that the closer the better when it comes to tulips. And daffodils for that matter.

And the closer the better for holding babies. Especially when they are teething so hard they spike a flu-like-fever that definitely catches the attention of their parents. I guess that’s perfectly understandle when you get 3 incisors all at once, in a sort of teeth flurry.

Wishing you a wonderful end to your week!