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December 19, 2003
I last left off at Ella’s first birthday in June, and I’d like to dedicate this entry to finally finishing the highlights of Ella’s life to date. We’ve had a terrific time throughout the summer and fall of this year, and I tried to keep this entry brief but you’ll soon see that I was not very successful…
Sailing & Summertime Fun
Matt and I both agreed that this was the greatest summer either one of us have ever had, and it was all due to Ella being tons of fun and the unbelievably gorgeous weather we had in Seattle. As I mentioned before, we spent almost every afternoon doing something outdoors in and around the water, and Ella’s presence just brought a new level of adventure and joy to everything. When I was at my friend Jessica’s wedding on Kauai a few years ago, I realized as I watched families playing together on the beach how much more fun life is with kids. I don’t know why it hadn’t occurred to me so clearly before, but I felt very eager to go right home and start a family. Which, by the way, is exactly what I did!
One of the most exciting adventures of our summer was our two-week sailing trip through the San Juan and Gulf Islands, and I’m going to try to avoid writing about it in minute detail but...
After leaving the dock in a complete rush and literally throwing our things aboard, we spent the first day catching the right currents and tides to make it all the way to Port Townsend in four hours. Ella went to bed as soon as we arrived, and Matt and I took turns exploring the area. As I went to the marina office to pay for our moorage, an otter jumped right up on the dock in front of me, walked across it, and dove back in on the other side! I looked up to notice a street sign that read, "Otter Crossing."
The next morning, we set out by about 11am for Sydney, B.C. Matt had plotted our course for that day the night before we left Seattle (over a beer, or three!), and much to my confusion that morning before we left Port Townsend, I couldn't figure out what he had in store for us that day--it all looked wrong to me. I decided not to question him though because a.) it seemed like our first real day on the water, and b.) what the hell do I know? Enough, evidently…
As soon as we started heading for Point Hudson (right around the corner from Port Townsend), we realized we were in for a bumpy ride. The Admiralty Inlet is notorious among boaters for being difficult water; riptides, potato patch chop and frequent freighters leaving massive wakes. We encountered all of it. Not only that, but my reading of the charts was correct: Matt had miscalculated, and I'd been too much of a weenie to second-guess the "skipper" on our second day. So, we were stuck with the current against us as two huge freighters passed us on our starboard side. We watched in awe as a 50+-foot sailboat turned right into the wake, disappeared in the troughs of the waves and took lots of water over the bow. Matt exclaimed in awe, "Look at that jackass. We're not doing that, that's for sure." He turned toward the shore thinking we could outrun the wake as it petered out, but we just kept getting closer and closer to the shallow water and in no better shape with huge waves coming at us. Finally, as we were approaching 20 feet of water, Matt yelled to me down below, "Hold on," as he turned into the waves, and we went through them like those "jackasses" had the foresight to do 35 minutes earlier...
Ella slept through this whole affair.
After our little wake incident, we were stuck dealing with the bigger issue: the current. We quickly realized, as our speed over ground read a measly 2 knots on the GPS, that we weren't going to make it to Sydney nor were we going to pop into Friday Harbor for lunch on the way. We were going to be lucky to make it to Friday Harbor by nightfall. Matt spent a good portion of the afternoon down below working on an alternate route and calling harbors looking for a spot to stay the night. Over the course of the afternoon, however, we realized we were making slightly better time than we had originally thought, and we decided to shoot for Friday Harbor. As we made it to the channel between San Juan and Lopez Islands, the wind kicked up, and we unfurled the jib and surfed our way into Friday Harbor.
Meanwhile, Ella had a rough day trying to walk, which she was only just learning to do and was now faced with trying to get her sea-legs on top of it all. She spent most of the day playing down below and crashing into everything. Her nap schedule was all fouled up, and she ended up screeching by 6:30 to go to bed. So, she was asleep before we pulled in for the night, and we were able to have a nice, stress-wind-down for the rest of the evening. Within an hour of tying up, we were enjoying ribeyes, salad with pistachios and blue cheese (a surprisingly yummy combination), grilled zucchini, and a lovely bottle of wine that our boat partners had left on board.
Speaking of our boat partners, during our tumultuous afternoon we also learned that Dave and Maryse would not be joining us for the last week of our sail. We had planned to pick them up in the Gulf Islands and spend the next week slowly making our way back to Seattle together. Much to our surprise, Maryse's 26-week pregnancy had developed some scary complications, and they were stuck in the hospital for the duration. Sadly, we learned upon our return that the baby was stillborn. There are really no words to describe how much we feel for them and wish them strength during this horrible ordeal.
We spent most of our trip wondering what was going on with them back in Montreal, but neither of us feared the worst. In terms of our trip itinerary, their inability to join us left us feeling a bit free as the second week had been entirely planned out. We could now take it easy, stay where we wanted, and spend as much time being lazy as we felt like. So, we decided to stay two nights in Friday Harbor, and we spent the next day eating: a big breakfast at our favorite spot in Friday Harbor and a huge lunch at the Mexican restaurant.
As we were walking back from lunch, we stopped to listen to a street performer who was singing old James Taylor and Bob Dylan tunes and playing his guitar. We sat on the grass and gave him a little audience while Ella practiced her walking: falling, pushing back up and trying again. Matt and I noticed that almost every person who walked by seemed embarrassed for this man, as if they thought it truly demeaning to play music on the street, and no one but us stopped to listen or even lowered their voices as they walked loudly by his grassy stage. Eventually a family of five stopped to take a picture right where we were sitting. They even asked us to move out of the way, politely of course. As the parents were lining up their only slightly reluctant three children for the shot, they explained that they take a sailing trip in these islands every year, and they always stop at this particular spot and take a photo of their children. Their oldest son was about fifteen, and I loved trying to imagine the pictures of this wise-assed little punk of a kid over the years. Their youngest daughter must have been putting out a vibe of some sort because we practically had to peel Ella off of her leg when they left. She does that—takes a liking to a person and tries to hug and kiss them upon first meeting them—and I think it’s too sweet for words when she gets all teary eyed as her latest infatuation leaves her.
Later that day, we decided to take the first of only three showers with Ella on our trip. What a hassle. The showers at marinas are coin-op, dirty and setup so that everything gets wet. So... Matt and Ella waited outside while I got set up, then I took Ella in and cleaned her up, much to her unusual displeasure. Then I threw a towel on both of us and passed her off to Matt while I finished my shower. It was only slightly circus-like.
We set out for Canada the following morning, and made it to Customs in Bedwell Harbor on South Pender Island by midday. On our way, Matt and I enjoyed a lovely morning in the sun while Ella napped. We saw lots of seals, otter and a few dolphins in the riptides between Stuart and Pender Islands. Right as we pulled into Bedwell Harbor, it started raining. I should back up to say that Matt met several people in Friday Harbor who gave him good advice about going through Customs. It seems that boats are the primary transport for drug-running and illegal immigration between Canada & the United States, and Customs is no laughing matter. This information made Matt very alert and eager to be prepared when we arrived in Canada.
So, it was raining when we pulled in, Ella was crabby, and we weren't as prepared as we should have been to dock the boat under the circumstances. It was kind of a nightmare. The fact that it was only our third day on the water meant we weren’t as handy with the lines as we should have been, especially in the wind and rain, and Matt was definitely grumpy. Ella and I had to wait on board while Matt went inside to complete the paperwork. After about half an hour, he returned successful and we set off for Ganges. The rain kept Ella and I playing down below while Matt got fairly soaked up above, but luckily we made it to Ganges in less than two hours.
Ganges is the largest town on Saltspring Island and a haven for artists. We loved the atmosphere and had a terrific time roaming the shops and galleries. We set out Sunday morning in search of coffee and breakfast, but it took us about 25 minutes to find a place open (apparently Canadians don't open early on Sundays--unless they run a liquor store that is, we found two of those ready to serve). We finally found a coffee spot, and took our morning drug à la drip over to the playground so Ella could have a romp while we woke up. Ella discovered gravel and, as is obvious by her infatuation, there is nothing better in her mind than little rocks you can pick up and throw everywhere. She put the playground's gravel on every square inch of the slides and swings in that park, and she got herself truly filthy in the process. About the time she was thoroughly covered in mud (it had been raining), we noticed restaurants were opening, and we went into a Mexican spot for breakfast. Ella ate lots of Matt's huevos rancheros and tried her first sip of OJ, which seemed to overwhelm her—one sip was enough.
That afternoon was spent exploring the town, and doing so made us decide that needed to stay for more than one night. After visiting lots of shops and galleries, we stopped to have a beer outside an English pub and let Ella walk around and explore. She was such a ham, trying to walk into the bar, picking flowers to give to the bartender and seeming impressed with herself for walking further than she had to date. Matt and I took turns looking through the Jill Louise Campbell gallery, where we later bought two (small, inexpensive) paintings, and then we attempted to enjoy a somewhat fancy Italian meal with a crabby toddler.
The next day was spent doing laundry, or trying to anyway. The laundry turned into an all day affair because we didn't stay with it until it was finished but instead tried to do it piecemeal. Big mistake. We ended up getting one of our loads mixed up with another guest at the marina, and he walked off, or sailed rather, with my very favorite Gap sweatshirt among a few other odds and ends. I managed to track him down when we got back to Seattle (I saw him climb aboard his boat, noticed the name, remembered our brief conversation in which he told me where he lived, and then did some sleuthy internet searching to find his phone number!), and he promised to mail me the sweater but he never did. I'm still bummed about it.
Anyway, that afternoon we took Ella back to the playground, picked out the paintings we wanted to buy and just goofed around town. Ella, again, only wanted to play with the gravel and bang on the equipment, but Matt managed to coax her onto the slide for a few solo trips—her first time going down on her own. She loved it, of course.
The next day we set sail for Montague Harbor on Galiano Island, and again Ella napped while Matt and I enjoyed time alone together, reading and passing the binoculars back and forth to get a closer look at eagles and otter everywhere. The tiny marina at Montague was packed, and it seemed that many of the same people who’d been at the Ganges marina had also decided to visit the harbor. So, we barely squeezed into a slip for the night. Before we left Seattle, a few people had mentioned the “hippie bus that takes you to the pub on Galiano,” and after realizing that Montague Harbor was completely isolated, we were happy to discover that the bus was still in business.
The Hummingbird Pub has figured out how to stay afloat in hard times: buy an old school bus, pay someone to drive between the harbor (where there is NOTHING to do) and the restaurant every hour, and everyone wins. As we waited for the 5pm bus to pick us up, we quietly chatted with lots of other boaters and everyone enjoyed watching Ella strutting her newly confident stuff in an adorable purple polka dot dress. The driver was hilarious, to say the least, and told us (jokingly of course) that he would stumble out of the pub to drive us home every hour until midnight. He cranked his old blues tunes over some duct-taped speakers at the front of the bus, and everyone relaxed and smiled at one another. After we’d all enjoyed a great meal and watched Ella push a toy tractor back and forth across the pub lawn for the millionth time, we got back on the bus. The ride home was a crack up because everyone had enjoyed a few beers at the pub, and the driver’s tunes were so contagious we were all singing and clapping all the way back to the marina. We all walked back to our boats, singing and chatting, and agreeing that the “you’ve got to take the hippie bus to the pub on Galiano.”
After Ella screamed and wailed while I cut her fingernails so loudly the other boaters must have thought we were torturing her and finally went down for the night, Matt and I enjoyed a game of cards over wine on the deck and chatted with our “neighbors.” A sweet ten year old girl came down and introduced herself (Jazz or Jess, I never heard correctly) and asked if she could see our boat. We promised a full tour the following morning when Ella was awake, and she quickly told her mom that we’d agreed to bring her aboard. She was with her mom, another woman, her 5-month old sister and her dad on a 25-foot boat that looked absolutely packed and thoroughly uncomfortable in every way. They were all enjoying dinner, which they had prepared on the dock next to their boat, and we got to talking about how our babies do on sailing trips. We told the mom about our harness for Ella, which is like a life-vest without the floatation pieces with a tether that ties her to the boat. It is a total lifesaver in so many ways—I don’t know how we could have sailed without it. Somehow we got on the subject of breastfeeding, and the mom said that the other woman with them was nursing the baby. “Uh,” I fumbled, “how does that work?” And she said, “We co-parent.” I mention this conversation because I’m still fascinated by this family’s structure. My guess is that the mom and dad had the older girl together and then one or both of them decided to have a baby with the other woman, and now they all live together and co-parent. Despite my confusion, I must admit it would be extremely handy to have another “mom” around to help co-parent. Maybe they’re on to something… Just kidding.
The next morning, we bundled Ella up in her real lifejacket and jumped in our inflatable skiff to explore a nearby beach. The water was absolutely freezing, but did that stop my girl? Not a chance. She walked right out with little reflex to the cold and seemed to want to keep right on going. She happily played with her shovel and bucket for over an hour, shoveling the sand of crushed shells into the bucket, dumping it out and doing it again and again. When she finally showed signs of hypothermia (I jest, but only slightly), we headed back to the dock where we were greeted by Jazz/Jess and her mom for the tour. Having them come aboard and seeing them dreamily looking around in awe made me do the same. I am so utterly grateful for our good fortune in the partnership on this boat, and taking the time to point out all the luxuries and amenities made me appreciate them all the more. Ella is so lucky to be growing up going sailing on this veritable yacht, and I hope to instill a sense of gratitude in her for such an amazing opportunity as well.
After saying goodbye to our new friends, we spent yet another early afternoon on deck while Ella napped below (yes, we intentionally planned our days on the water around her naps!). I tearfully finished one of my favorite books of all time, Animal Dreams by Barbara Kingsolver, while Matt navigated our way to Telegraph Harbor on Thetis Island. Telegraph was, by far and away, the cutest and most well-maintained marina we stayed at, complete with volleyball courts and croquet. We realized upon our arrival that we didn’t have anything “good” to eat for dinner and that there wasn’t anything nearby either. So, we gathered our things and literally ran the mile and a half to the ferry terminal to catch the 5pm boat to a smallish town called Chemainis on Vancouver Island. The whole thing was a complete mess, and Matt and I ended up getting in a bit of row because he didn’t like the fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants way in which we left the boat. Why this was my fault I’m not certain, but it made for an uncomfortable evening. We realized we would only have until 7:10pm in Chemainis if we wanted to get back at a decent hour for Ella to go to bed. So, we quickly set about looking for a restaurant and a place to buy a binky—we’d forgotten one in our rush and it would make the ride home after bedtime much more pleasant. For reasons I would only later discover, Matt was extremely edgy and hurried. He made us eat at a gross little place because it was close to the ferry terminal, and then tried to get us out of there by 6pm. I wanted to run up the hill and look for a drug store that might have a replacement of what I affectionately call Ella’s kiddie-morphine, and Matt was adamant that if I didn’t sprint we would miss the ferry. He was so squirmy about it, and it still hadn’t occurred to me what was going on. So, I ran while he could see me and then walked quickly after I was out of sight, found a binky, and ran back. As soon as I saw him, he started pointing at his watch and shaking his head. Oh no, I thought, he’s been thinking the ferry leaves at 6:10 instead of 7:10.
Yep, he was off by an hour, and, for reasons I still don’t understand, it was all my fault for not realizing that he was mistaken. So in our free time before the ferry left, we let our stomachs settle from a truly disgusting dinner while Ella played at a lovely playground overlooking the water. Meanwhile, Matt could barely speak to me he was so mad. I let him cool off, reminding myself that he was only really mad at himself (something he says all the time: “You’re never really mad at anyone else. You’re only mad at yourself.”). Sure enough, by the time we got back to our boat he had recovered and was sharing his beer with the other boaters on the dock.
Speaking of beer, Matt is a beer snob, plain and simple. He buys specialty German and Belgian style beers and barley wines, and even has a couple friends who age their beer like most people age wine. I realize that this isn’t THAT crazy or anything, but it’s just another tidbit about my husband. For this trip, I went to Whole Foods and the beer buyers, Stouss & Steve (yes, we are on a first name basis with most of the people at that store), helped me pick out a few beers for our trip. Well, buying two cases of fancy beer gets you a 10% discount, a t-shirt and two fancy-ass beer glasses, and Matt was ecstatic with my forethought.
So, back to the dock and Matt sharing his beer. We ended up standing on the dock chatting with the owners of four other boats until almost 11pm that night, and the beer and wine was flowing freely. Our boat is rather rare (a Freedom), and all the people on the dock were interested in how it works until another Freedom pulled into the harbor, and then everyone was just amazed that there were two of them side-by-side. There was lots of boat talk on the dock that night, in which I can only feign interest for about an hour, and luckily for me our Canadian comrades were happy to discuss politics and their adventures at sea as well.
One ugly incident occurred when the total drunkards on the other side of the dock decided to step down from their 42-foot sailboat and grace the rest of us with their gaudy presence. Sound a bit nasty, do I? Well, the owner of that boat barged into our conversation, about what I can’t remember—but it was a nice one, and started insulting ME. I was in a very quiet mood that evening, going back on our boat frequently to check on Ella and generally just listening to the conversation rather than participating in it. I think I was still coming down from Matt and my spat earlier in the evening. So, I was completely appalled that this man chose to single me out and truly pick on me. He made several jabs about me being the “baby-on-board” and other things like that, but at least everyone around us seemed horrified that he was giving me a hard time. Yes, Matt and I have an age difference, but it is only fourteen years, and what difference it made to that man I’ll never know. But, he made everyone uncomfortable, and I was completely relieved when he stumbled back to his boat, probably to drink another bottle of scotch before going to bed!
The next day we decided to head south, and following a brief tour of the other Freedom at the marina—complete with fresh doughnuts!!, we set sail on a glorious afternoon for Maple Bay on Vancouver Island. Unfortunately, the main marina was full and we had to tie up down the way at a smaller spot. But, we were within walking/skiff distance of the bigger marina, complete with a grocery store/café and a restaurant. We spent the afternoon hanging out around the marina, taking naps, and making a big dinner on the boat. Ella enjoyed eating on deck in her portable highchair/booster seat, and she went to bed early while Matt and I stayed up late playing Boggle. I kick major butt at Boggle, unlike my husband… By the end of the evening, we were cracking up as we compared our word lists: Matt’s were incredibly, anally linear and perfect while mine were winding rows of words that wrapped around each other and the page. It said so much about our differences, and we had a great evening lounging around together and laughing about how bad Matt is a t Boggle.
We took off early the next day for Roche Harbor on San Juan Island, and made it by late afternoon after an eventful day on the water. We sailed right passed an island covered in sea lions and shortly afterward we had a little scare with our depth gauge. We were in a big open patch of water, nothing within 5-10 miles of the boat, when our depth meter started showing the water becoming more and more shallow. All of a sudden, it jumped from 200 feet of water to 20 feet! Being a sailboat with a keel that will run aground in 6 feet of water, we were freaking out! We killed the engine (we weren’t sailing, fortunately), and turned around. The depth gauge didn’t change it’s reading, and we eventually assumed that something must have gotten caught on the bottom of the keel and been causing a false reading. It took us a few minutes to feel confident enough to turn the engine back on and head for the harbor, and then it was time to go through Customs again. Ugh. The actual dealings with Customs agents were pleasant, and Matt seemed more composed in terms of preparations this time through. After we were finished and heading to our assigned slip, Matt gave me the documents and asked me to put them away. I set them down in a spot I was sure Ella couldn’t reach (have I mentioned her obsession with paper?), and then rushed around to help navigate the busy harbor and tie up the boat. It didn’t take long for Ella to prove me wrong and tear many of the documents to shreds. Matt was none too pleased, but fortunately they weren’t irreplaceable.
Roche Harbor is one of “THE” destinations in the San Juan Islands for large, yacht-style boats, and the weekend we were there was no exception. We were relegated to the BIG dock, surrounded by multi-million dollar vessels and, because we were one of only two other sailboats, we ended up keeping to ourselves a bit. We didn’t fit in very well with the perfectly manicured crowd, but the facilities at the harbor were so abundant (including a swimming pool, three restaurants, a grocery store and wireless internet access) that we decided to stay on for two nights.
That afternoon after a big lunch, we went swimming and Ella made some friends in the kiddie pool. There were two little girls, probably 4 and 8 years old, who fell in love with Ella and played with her for over an hour. That night we went back to the boat, ate a small snack and went to bed early. The next day was spent walking through the amazing sculpture garden near the harbor, doing laundry, swimming, and preparing a huge feast for dinner (two pounds of prawns from a fishing boat in the harbor!). The next morning we set sail for a long, hot day (10 hours) on the water to La Connor. We arrived in town just in time for an early dinner at the La Connor Brewery (one of our favorite spots from previous sailing trips), and we all crashed out early from too much heat and sun. Matt was nice enough to wake up at 5am and get us on the water with the best current and tides, and we managed to make it back to the Ballard Locks by 2pm that afternoon.
Following an easy day on the Sound and a quick trip through the Locks, we thought we were home free… When we pulled into our marina on Lake Union, we saw that, Erik—the marina manager and our friend, had parked his new speed boat in our slip thinking we weren’t returning for another day. The marina is small and maneuvering is delicate. Oh, and did I mention it was about 95 degrees, and we didn’t have any shade? Anyway, we tied up next to another boat temporarily while Matt tried to climb aboard the speed boat and move it to another spot out of the way. Almost an hour later, Matt came back to our boat (where Ella and I had been waiting and waiting and waiting) looking beat up, filthy and drenched in sweat. He had a veritable comedy of errors: falling off the boat TWICE, crashing into the dock, and on and on. So much for a stress-free return to the real world. Once we finally had our boat in the slip, we left everything aboard, closed it up and went home. I ended up coming back later that evening, while Matt stayed home with the sleeping babe and a massive headache, to pack up most of our stuff and clean up from a thoroughly enjoyable, relaxing and luxurious cruise.
Advanced Swimming Lessons
So, I signed Ella up for a more advanced and age-appropriate class this Fall, and she, of course, loved practically every minute of it. The new classes were private and slightly more expensive than our previous lessons, but the program is structured with very specific age and skill levels. Her class was the Level 2 in terms of skills and exclusively for babies between the ages of six months and 2 years. She learned how to back float and literally swim with the support of one of those foam noodles or water wings. And, my favorite thing (and hers too) is that the shallow end of the pool is shallow enough for her to stand, just barely. She ran from one end to the other, in a constant state of hysteria, stopping only briefly to kiss another baby in her path.
She went through a period during these lessons of not wanting to go underwater at all, and I held off on pushing her when she seemed upset about it. She’d always been so eager to be “dunked” that the first time she climbed up and hugged me after going under and started saying “All pau. Up!” I was shocked. By the way, “All pau” is Matt’s Hawaiian pidgin influence coming into play—it’s means “All done.” A few weeks ago though, Ella started putting her head underwater of her own accord in the bath tub. She pops her head up and looks at us with glossy, water-logged eyes and a huge grin, clearly very proud of herself. Sometimes she even claps and says “Yay!” After figuring out how to do it on her own, she was no longer afraid of going under at the pool. During the last session, she did an “almost” unassisted swim underwater from the teacher to myself for 8 seconds! Amazing.
A First Funeral
This September 11th, we got the sad and long awaited news that my grandfather had passed away following hip-replacement surgery. My parents flew in, along with my brother who was visiting them in Bucharest, and Matt, Ella and I decided to take a road trip. By driving, we were able to stop in San Francisco to visit Matt’s mom and step-dad on our way to Riverside. We broke the drive up into three days on the road, and although they were long and tedious it was worth the extra effort to get to stop and see Grandma and Grandpa Jason. Matt needed to head home a few days before I was ready to say goodbye, and he decided to make the road trip solo while Ella and I took a one-way flight home with my brother the following week.
So, Ella endured her first road trip and her first funeral with minimal fuss, and I know that her presence helped shine a much needed light on the dim occasion. Being the eldest grandchild and the mother of the only great-grandchild, I spoke at my grandfather’s funeral service about how special it was to have been able to introduce Ella to her great-grandfather before he died. There was something sweet about sharing my loss with Matt, who is always reminded of his beloved Granny when we go to Riverside as she also lived there, and he spent many summers staying with her during his youth. He and I had both been hearing about the Mission Inn from our grandparents and parents for years, about how fancy and special it is, and when we drove into town and realized the place we booked online was a complete pit, we decided to pay tribute to our grandparents and stay at one of the oldest, most revered hotels in California. It was spectacular, and as cheesy as this sounds, I will always think about my grandfather when I see it and, hopefully, stay there in the future.
My father and his three brothers worked hard to put together a lovely service for their dad, and I don’t think there could have been a more fitting tribute. The night before the service, they had a viewing at a local mortuary, and I couldn’t bring myself to attend. I know some people find it comforting to see their loved ones one last time in a peaceful state, but for me it just doesn’t feel right. I’d rather remember the man alive and vital and telling one of his silly jokes. The service was held at my family’s church, Eden Lutheran, where almost everyone has been married and baptized (except me), and being at the church brought back lots of memories of my grandpa. As I mentioned, I said a few words at the service and while I was at the podium, Ella, who was sitting in the back of the church with Matt, started freaking out a bit. When I was done speaking, I took her up to the secluded balcony and nursed her during the remainder of the service. There was something surreal about listening to the songs and words of mourning for my grandfather while I nourished and comforted his only great-grandchild up above it all.
Matt took Ella back to the hotel for a nap after the ceremony, and I went with my family to the cemetery. He was buried with a full Air Force Veteran’s service, including the gun salute and a special fly-over. Following that, we went back to his house and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves over lots of food and cold beverages. My family deals with grief through laughter, and although it probably seems strange to outsiders, it works for us. Ella entertained everyone, when she finally woke up and arrived, by attempting to drink from a water bottle and pouring it all over herself. She did it again and again until she was drenched and everyone was laughing and loving on her.
While in California, Ella and I went to Murrieta to spend some time with my maternal grandparents and relatives. I’m so grateful that we were able to make that trip because we recently got word that my step-grandmother has been diagnosed with terminal lung cancer and doesn’t have long to live. She has been an amazing presence in my life, a spunky, creative grandmotherly figure, and I’m very sad about her news. She had a great time playing with Ella, and we’re hoping to make another trip to see her in the coming months.
Cabin Haven
Back in August, Matt and I were feeling a bit desperate to get the hell out of Dodge for a long weekend—the city had worn on us and we weren’t able to find any time to be together without the stress of WORK. We have some friends with a cabin in north central Washington who are always offering us their home for a little getaway (okay, we do their website and they owe us, but still…). But, the weeks before our had delivered immense fires to the area, and they said the smoke was so bad we wouldn’t want to go outdoors. Not a good plan. So, our boat partners own a cabin on Dectaur Island in the San Juans, and we were very grateful when they offered it to us for the weekend. Dectaur is one of the more uninhabited islands with very limited means of transportation: perfect, we thought.
We packed up the 4Runner with lots of food, gear, clothing and the dog, and we made it to the water taxi dock just in time to load up. We thought we had surely over packed, but the 20 or so other people who were sharing our taxi made us look like we were traveling light. Ella hammed it up on the boat, trying to hug the dogs and other babies and saying “Hi” to everyone. The boat dropped us off about 200 meters from the cabin, and we made several trips to haul all of our stuff from one end of the beach to the other. All the while, Ella played in the sand, and after a freezing cold romp in the knee-deep water she really wanted to be carried along with the suitcase and boxes of food. Typical.
As we were getting settled, Ella was playing on one of the bedroom’s queen-sized beds while I opened the bag of an ancient, metal Pack N’ Play that had been left at the cabin and told Matt that he needed to put it together. I walked into the other room and Matt started to follow me but not before seeing Ella bouncing on the bed with one of the crib’s metal rods in her hands and mouth. He said he thought to himself, “Hmm, that looks dangerous,” but then had a mental block as he moved out of eyeshot. No more than ten seconds later, we heard a tumble and a wretched scream. Ella fell off the bed and landed with the metal rod in her mouth. There was blood everywhere, instantly, and she started to swell within minutes. We both panicked a little, especially considering we’d just watched the water taxi disappear from the bay, and it took me about three minutes to calm down. Ella immediately wanted to nurse, and that seemed like a good thing—that she wanted to and that she could. I tried unsuccessfully to look in her mouth several times and was, at least, able to verify that she hadn’t chipped or lost a tooth. Fortunately, I had had the foresight to pack some infant Tylenol, and she managed to stop crying after about 20 minutes.
So much for our nice relaxing weekend… Later, I was able to keep her mouth pried open long enough to verify that it was just a surface wound and a major bruise. She woke up every two hours all night long, and had a steady four-hour dose of Tylenol for the first day and a half. Ella’s mouth healed relatively quickly, but she was still pretty fussy and cranky for most of the weekend. Matt was stressed about all the work that he wasn’t doing, and I was feeling grumpy that we weren’t having a better time. I’m sure we all fed off of one another, but we did manage to have a little fun now and then.
We took some nice, cold, wet walks on the beach and in the nearby forest. Ella and I gathered shells for over an hour in the rain one day, and she and Matt spent several hours collecting rocks and examining slugs on a forested path near the cabin. Ernest (the dog) was the only one who had a truly fabulous time: hunting and running free for hours every day. One afternoon when Matt and Ella were on a walk, they heard some rustling in the woods and then a deer bounded across the trail in front of them with Ernest hot on its heels. He was in heaven.
On the way home, we took a tumultuous water taxi ride during which the entire boat caught air on several rocky occasions. There was a family of seven sitting next to us in the boat’s cabin: two parents, one daughter and two sets of twin girls. Five kids and two sets of twins! My life never seemed so easy by comparison. That is until we got to the car and realized Matt had left the lights on, we needed a jump and it was pouring down rain. Oh yeah, and then Ella cried for the entire two hour drive home. Doesn’t that sound like a terrific getaway?
Pumpkins & Halloween
In mid October, the grocery store I frequent set up a terrific pumpkin display in the parking garage, complete with gourds of all shapes and sizes and large bales of fake hay. Every single time we drove into the garage, Ella would start yelling “APPA, APPA,” her word for “apple” which is apparently synonymous with any round-ish fruit or vegetable. And every single time, I would let her play in the hay and touch all of the pumpkins. So, I knew she would love going to an honest to goodness pumpkin patch! I was hoping to go with some friends or at least drag Matt along, but as is seeming more and more common lately, it was just Ella and me. Despite the fact that Ella took that particular morning to throw her first (and second and third) temper tantrum, we had a great time.
We drove up the freeway to Biringer Farms where they put on such a show that it’s hardly ample to refer to it as a pumpkin patch. They have hay rides, giant slides, a haunted house (cleverly called the Boo Barn), pony rides, a honey bee viewing area inside an old bus, geese and turkeys, goats for petting, and on and on. Needless to say, my girl was beside herself and none too exhausted when we left two hours later. The Boo Barn was far and away the highlight of her month, as she made clear with her refusal to leave and huge fit each time we got to the end of the dark maze. Yes, I did say “each time”. We spent a total of 45 minutes in the damn thing mainly because she wanted to linger and explore everything endlessly, but I gave up and put my foot down after our third trip through. Ella was also quite taken with the goats and the abandoned bus with the honeycomb viewing. She refused to get out of the driver’s seat on the bus when a line started to form, and I eventually had to endure another tantrum as I pried her away from the steering wheel.
And then there was the pony ride… Matt has been playing a game with Ella for as long as she’s been able to hold her head up where he sits her straddling his knee and thigh facing him and bounces her like a horse-y ride. He does all sorts of sounds, including the corral gate opening and closing, and bounces in differing rhythms for the various speeds a horse ride: prancing, galloping, and everything in between. So, when she saw real, live horses and kids sitting on top of them, her excitement suckered me into shelling out another couple bucks for a ride. She took it very seriously and even kicked her horse (only as one would to get them moving—Matt taught her that as well). Ella was extremely upset when it was time to get down and let another little girl have her turn, and I ended up calling it a day.
And no, we never made it to the pumpkin patch part of the extravaganza: we left empty handed. We did buy a few pumpkins several days later with my brother Rob, and I carved one during an afternoon while Ella played cheerfully by herself. Which leads me to mention that Ella does that—plays by herself I mean. She will often go in her room (sometimes even shutting the door) and read to herself or explore her toy box for up to an hour on her own. It’s sickening, isn’t it? I know my next child will not treat me so well!
Thanksgiving in Sequim
We spent a lovely Thanksgiving with Matt’s family in Sequim this year, and it went off without a hitch. My brother joined us for the trip, and we got to my father-in-law’s house by about 2pm after missing two ferries due to major traffic at the terminal. Ella, who still refuses to nap in the car, managed quite well and only really broke down for the last forty minutes or so, at which time I discovered that reciting her favorite books is highly effective. By the way, her favorite books of late are In the Small, Small Pond, Quick as a Cricket, Jamberry, The Going to Bed Book, Time for Bed and Good Night Moon. I know all the words, a feat I’m sure is nothing spectacular considering how often we read them.
As they hadn’t seen her since June, all of our relatives were overjoyed to see Ella, who looked smashing in her little shirt dress, handknit sweater, tights and pigtails, and they entertained her all day and evening. Considering that dinner was already prepared and Ella was off playing with her cousin Amber, I was free to work on some of my holiday knitting projects. Knitting has become a true hobby lately, and despite a slow start I feel like I’m finally starting to take off with it. It’s so exciting to finish projects in a relatively short period of time, and they make such lovely gifts.
Our drive home provided no rest for the weary as Ella again refused to sleep, but fortunately we were able to break it up with an easy drive onto the ferry. For a change of scenery, we went up to the passenger deck, and Ella, fully clad in her “French prisoner pajamas,” (Matt thinks she looks like an inmate in her stripy pjs)maryjanes, and pink puffy parka, went around the entire boat stopping at every single booth to say “Hi” to the riders. She would touch their legs or arms, tilt her head a little to the side and listen very intently to whatever they said or asked her. There were several other babies onboard, and she desperately wanted to kiss and hug all of them. It was a priceless ride.
I’m sure there are hundreds of other things about which I could blather on and on, but I’m desperately trying to get ready for my parents 10-day visit—they arrive tomorrow morning. I’ve still got laundry to do, groceries to buy, presents to wrap, a hat to finish knitting (I’m not even close!) and pictures to frame. On a positive note, I’m delighted to report that my house is clean and my Christmas cards have been mailed. They were particularly adorable this year with a picture of the little cherub next to the Christmas tree with lights wrapped around her head in a very halo-esque way. Usually I dread the card writing mania, but looking at our handmade cards this year made the process highly gratifying.
Oh, one more thing, Jessica and Hana gave Ella the BEST children’s CD ever, and because Jess and I exchanged gifts on Wednesday we’ve already listened to it countless times. It’s called You’ll Sing a Song and I’ll Sing a Song, by Ella Jenkins, who is an elementary school music teacher and a performer of great depth and spirit. The songs are catchy, rhythmically interesting and culturally diverse, and I cannot rave about it enough. I’m sure we’ll have everything Ms. Jenkins has ever released within a few years as my Ella is already crazy about her.
Warmest holiday wishes,
Melissa
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