The Natural World and Kai

 After 4 1/2 months of life with Kai, I have a pretty good gauge on his likes and dislikes. These affinities usually depend on time, place, mood, and circumstance, but there is one constant: being outside. If Kai is being inconsolably fussy, I am nearly 100% certain that he will feel better once we are outside. It's really quite an amazing thing. Whether carrying him or putting him in the stroller, when Kai goes outside his worries are like a balloon that freed from ceilings and walls floats out and up into the stratosphere, disappearing from sight.
To try and pinpoint what it is outside in the open air that calms him would be a pointless reductionist venture that would, ironically, miss the point. What this does make me think about is how isolated our homes (and other buildings) are from the natural environment. How different would our lives be if we were in constant interaction with the elements? Not to suggest that we should live without shelter, but what if our homes allowed a more fluid exchange between the indoors and outdoors? I think about our first (and thus far only) camping trip with Kai where on the second night he slept for 12 hours straight. He has performed this feat a mere three times in his 4 1/2 months of life, which does not prompt me to make a causal link but at least makes me cock an eyebrow.
Lisa babysat Kai the other night (our first nighttime babysitting foray) and we got talking about this phenomenon of our buildings being so environmentally isolated. Right now, she is actually studying building design and how homes can, are, and have been built in ways that use the natural world to insulate or cool themselves through a natural transference of air and energy. This made me think of a trip I took as a freshman in high school to an Anasazi ruin that featured a ventilation system that ran throughout the complex whose design was all built upon the natural law of convection. Sometimes it seems like our civilization has gotten too clever for its own good. Less of what we do now is about working with natural forces than it is about overcoming them.
Lisa then elaborated on how much our current way of living isolated from the elements indoors prompts respiratory ailments and allergies because the air we breathe is so stale and recycled.  But what about the less physical effects?  What are the psychological, emotional, and spiritual effects of living so separated from the natural world?

All this being said I am happy in the house I live in.  Maybe someday I could build a dream house that incorporates these ideas, but until then I have what I have.  Winter is approaching, which will slow down the outdoor time a bit, but Colorado is still incredibly accommodating even with snow on the ground.  Not only that, I can invite a bit more of the outside into my home in little ways.  Saturday, Linda and I continued on our saga of making a more child-friendly home in anticipation of Kai's inevitable crawling, and in an effort to bring some of the outside world in, I dedicated one of our bookshelves in the living room as a nature table--arranging vines, leaves, pinecones, pieces of wood, stones (all of non-chokeable size of course!), etc. (I gleaned this idea from my Waldorf school world).  The bookshelf below it will become a place to put nature table materials so that kids who come over can arrange and rearrange as it pleases them.  It could use some characters, so I may add a cornhusk doll or some little felted animals, gnomes, or people so it can really turn into a story-scape for them to play with.
Anyway, as with everything, this relationship between indoors and outdoors is another piece of the ever-changing, ongoing puzzle of life.  Another challenge, another creative opportunity.

Cute Video

So Kai makes lots of sounds, of the most common is "Hoo!" or even "Goo!" (babies really do make that sound!).  Today he had one of his classic moments of exclaiming "Hoo!" and when I mirrored it back to him he thought it hilarious!  Linda got the camera after the game had already begun.

Here are some highlights:

Baby Brain

At the beginning of the school year I warned all of my children that I now suffer from a condition known as baby brain.  "So if I say anything funny or strange that really just does not make any sense, feel free to raise your hand and ask, 'Mr. Dewey, did you get much sleep last night?' or 'Mr. Dewey, do you have baby brain again?'"  A couple of times I have been called out on my condition--though my baby brain prevents me from recalling most of these circumstances--and then the other day I heard a funny story from a mother of one of my students: "Now whenever she messes up on something, makes a mistake, or forgets something, she says...Oh, it must be baby brain."  It's funny how children adopt language and try it on without fully understanding its meaning.  It's also a reminder of how children bring my speech and behavior home with them.  Funny and a bit frightening.

The Sadness of Change

It was only a matter of time until a more somber and sad post arrived, and here it is.  Knowing me, this will surely be the first of many.

Following up on the last post on sleep, I've settled into my feelings a bit more and there's a lot more there than just wanting to get a baby to sleep.

My relationship with Kai Liang has changed.  Of course, this is part of any relationship--especially that of a parent to their child.  Nevertheless, it's the first time I have felt it and feel it I must.
Going back to work dramatically changed our relationship.  Before, I was with him nearly all day.  He enjoyed near equal time with me and Linda and sometimes I felt like (even though it's clearly not true) I was on completely equal footing with Linda save for the breastfeeding part.  Now that I am back at work, Kai gets a maximum of four hours of me each day and those four hours aren't exactly the best of me either.  He does not look at me like a stranger, and he always gives me a smile when I come home, but that same adoration and love does not feel the same.  He is more comfortable with Linda now.  He is so familiar with her and she with him in a way that I can no longer match.  Funny-and-Playful-Daddy remains intact but Soothing-Daddy-Who-Puts-Me-to-Sleep feels like an artifact of early infancy.  Even diaper changing used to be our thing until I went back to work.  He still loves getting his diaper changed but I am no longer the proud ruler of Diaper Land. 
Yesterday I began to feel like I had to work at strengthening my relationship with Kai whereas before it just got stronger with time.  My patience has to be that much greater because I know that if I hand him off to Linda, I am handing off my limited time with my baby boy.
I think it is true that with time apart I can come back to Kai with renewed creativity and patience.  But when I spend most of my day prior to coming home on my feet with 26 children demanding that same creativity and patience--I can feel my resources dwindling.

Okay, enough sulking?  I'll move on.

I know there is a bigger picture.  I never question our love or that we will forever be bound together.  And I know that the wonderful thing about everything that has to do with Kai Liang is that it is just like Colorado weather: if you don't like it now, just wait a few minutes!

Sleep, What's That?

The last week has been an odd one with Kai's sleep.  Though going to sleep has never been a regularly seamless process, there used to be some kind of pattern around him falling asleep.  This last week has felt like a serious upset of what used to be.  Or what I think used to be...
Late this morning when it seemed clear that he needed a nap (and, in fact, he is still fighting it--eye rubs and all) I had this pondering moment: "How did we get him to fall asleep?"  It was the same kind of question that arises during a night of insomnia, when after tossing and turning for an hour you ask, "How do I fall asleep?"  You imagine how your hands are positioned ("Do I have one hand under the pillow and the other hand at my side?  No, that feels awkward...") or your legs, what side is most optimal, and all of these questions merely confirm your worst fear: I am never going to sleep.
So as this question confirming doom appeared in my mind, it became clear that all I can do is try and enjoy the present.  I looked at myself from the outside and saw me in my pajamas, Kai sitting upright in my arms, and us both looking out the window on a rainy fall afternoon.  "That looks pretty nice," I thought, and I smiled.