My love, taking in the view at Half Moon Bay harbor. Nothing says "fine art" more than a pensive gaze... and a man bun.
Uncle Nick and Ru splashing around at Avila Beach. She couldn't get enough!
This is your buddy, Harlan, boo boos. What a cutie, huh?!
Harlan is the very first friend you girls ever made (that is, other than mommy, daddy, and one another), when at just a couple weeks old - and you girls about one month old - his mommy and daddy brought him over for your first official play date. While the adults had fun, it wasn't all that exciting for you at the time. Boy have times changed!
Mommy went to grad school with Harlan's dad, Allen during the 2012-13 school year. It was during that one-year program our families discovered that both Harlan's mommy, Ginger, and I were expecting new additions - within mere weeks of one another!
In the blink of an eye nearly two years have passed. Seeing your relationship develop from your infancy to your toddler-hood, has been simply fascinating. We had Harlan, Allen, and Ginger over for a farewell barbeque, as they are moving to Santa Cruz to begin a new chapter in their lives.
Looks like your guys' next play date will have to be on the beach!
Ohhhh my Ruby girl,
We went out to see your cousins, Auntie Laura, and Uncle Marshall in Fresno back in May. Hazey was playing "Frozen" songs and even put the movie on one night. You have been OBSESSED (no exaggeration) ever since. Your favorite song, by far, is "Love is An Open Door," or, as you like to refer to it, "Door." You've begun to get the song stuck in your head and sometimes I'll peek over at you, reading or doing a puzzle, and you'll just start singing to yourself, "doooooo-or-or." I'll sing it to you while you're having breakfast and you fill in the blanks to all the words. Just too cute.
Whenever I put the song actually ON you just lose it - twirling, clapping, stomping your feet; adding any number of self-choreographed moved each new time. Here you are, yesterday, in the backyard. Jammin' out as only my sweet, spunky Ruby tudes can. (Don't worry, lovebug, your arm wasn't disappearing - I just wanted you to see how smooth your moves were by slowing down the shutter speed).
I love you baby,
Whenever anyone asks me something like, "What makes your girls' distinct? How are their personalities different from one another?" I always, first of all, think to myself "What kind of question is that?! I mean seriously, how the heck am I supposed to answer that while standing in line at the grocery store (or wherever we may be)?!" Then I take a deep breath, in an effort to gather my abbreviated version of just what makes you and your sis unique little humans. Then I usually look at you and say, "Well, Vera here *while stroking your hair* she is our bashful one; she has to get to know you before she opens up. But, once she does, she's the biggest goof ever!"
Now, that may be true when it comes to you and about 95% of the people you meet. But, NOT with your Uncle Nick. I swear, Vee, you not only have been smitten with your Uncle from the first moment you met, but, he brings out a side to you that your daddy and I have never seen before. One time you sung and spun around in circles (aka dancing) for an entire song (and, believe me I KNOW you would have stopped would it have not been for your Uncle Nicky watching). Very impressive.
Yesterday your Uncle came over to watch the (amazing!!!) Warrior's game. We played in the backyard for a little while before the game started and as usual, Vee, you were showing off your skills -- this time of sitting at your picnic table like a *big kid* -- for precious Uncle Nick.
I love you you cutie pie,
Livvy in an angelic light. At least 90% of the time 😜
Some say that when you pass away, scenes from your life flash before your eyes. If this is true, I like to imagine this as presenting in animated vignettes; spliced together from all of the significant, powerful, or inspirational moments of my life. It also might involve Joe Cocker's version of "With A Little Help From My Friends."
Yesterday was one of those days for me.
It was Mother's Day, and you two made it an unforgettable day, indeed. Now, I know *officially* it was my second Mother's Day, but I consider it my third, as when I had you two growing inside me, our strengthening bond was growing as well. I must say, though, with you two now being increasingly able to interact with the world around you, days like yesterday come to feel much more unpredictable; spontaneous; sublime.
For eight of the nine or so months I was pregnant with you girls, we lived in Daly City, just south of where mommy was going to grad school, and north of where daddy was working. During the latter part of that time I would get wiped out pretty easily. On the weekends, feeling exhausted from the demands school, teaching and pregnancy had taken on my body during the week, I'd beg your daddy to take me to the beach. To me, there is nothing more centering than the ocean; its humbling expansiveness; its fresh, restorative breeze; its unhurried, lapping tempo helping to re-sync amidst the fast-paced rhythm of daily life.
As you can tell, I really liked to go to this beach.
It became a regular routine. On Sundays, daddy and I would drive down to Pacifica, only about 10 minutes from where we lived, have crepes (and I'd have about a gallon of fresh orange juice) at The High Tide, and afterward, stroll down to the beach. It became a really nice ritual.
When we moved out here to Berkeley in August of 2013 and, shortly thereafter, when welcomed you beautiful girls into the world, that ritual quickly became a thing of the past; and, truthfully, the last thing we considered trying to fit into our new-twin-parent schedule.
That is, until yesterday. As a special Mother's Day excursion, your daddy and I brought you two to our special spot. We had breakfast at the High Tide and you two could not get enough of the beach (really though, Ru I think you brought back as much as you possible could with you!).
It was, by far, the best, most exhilarating time I had ever had at that beach. I look forward to many more.
Thank you for such a special day baby girls (and daddy).
I love you,
Dear Vera and Ruby,
Yesterday, your daddy took a giant step -- a nerve-wracking, well-considered, brave, giant step. But, before I get into that, I first want to tell you a little story.
Back when we were in our late-teens and early-twenties, your Auntie Minette and I would go to see foreign films at these historic movie theaters scattered across Seattle, called Landmark Theatres. I can assure you both, this is a super cool thing to do on Friday and Saturday nights.
I always knew the film was just about to start when the lights would dim and, faintly through the theater speakers, a singular, clear, monotone voice would begin delivering the following phrase -- the first whispering, but the volume escalating with each new voice in each new language:
"Le cinema est un langage universal...
El lenguaje del cine es universal...
Paha des filmz es ooneeverzel...
Egano! Kotobowa! Sukyteki!...
El linguaggio del cinema è universale...
The language of film is universal..."
The language of film is universal. What did that mean to me?
It meant that, for one, although a movie may have been written and filmed in a completely different language than my own, it didn't mean that I couldn't have access to it by way of reading subtitles, studying the actors' body language or even taking note of subtle intonations in their deliveries (though, I must admit, subtitles were certainly the most convenient). Even more so, however, the language of film is universal meant that, when I observed a particularly moving scene, one in which an actor -- whether male, female, living in another era, from a distant part of the world, or even on another planet, younger or much older than myself, you name it -- going through a situation or experiencing an emotion that resonated with me, I had the right to interpret that scene through the always-mounting, ever-fluctuating experiences of my life. It spoke to my soul. Period. Now that is a powerful language, don't you think?
Okay, I get it. You might think I'm a big film buff, considering what I just said.
But, you know what, boo boos? Here's a secret: all forms of art have the power to speak to your souls, so long as it rings true to you. In other words, if one day you're in Paris and find yourself overwhelmed with emotion while strolling through le jardin du musée Rodin then, to you, in that moment, the language of sculpture is universal. If, on the train one Sunday afternoon, heading to meet a friend for lunch, you read an excerpt in your book that doubles you over with laughter then, to you, in that instance, the language of literature is universal.
Let me give you an example of this in your present life:
On Tuesdays, we regularly attend a story-time at our local library. It is one of your very favorite activities at this time in your lives. I use the term "story-time" loosely, as nearly the entire 45 minutes is filled with singing songs. No matter how exhausted, cranky, or disheveled we (all of us) may be, the very instant the first song begins... "Good morning, dear Earth. Good morning, dear sun..." we transcend to a state of goofy, fun, melody-filled contentment. It's in that contentment that, for us, the language of music is universal.
This leads me back to your daddy's giant step! (But first, just to be ornery, here are a few photos of your daddy and his precious girls)
Yesterday your dad started a brand new job. After over two years of commuting from our home in Berkeley to San Francisco (which may not sound too far, but feels it when he has you two waiting at home for the moment he walks in, so you can squeal and yell "DAAAAAAADDOOOOO!" while running up to him, beaming from ear to ear), he made the decision to seek other employment that would ensure he had more time with you two (and mommy, of course). I know you will understand this one day, but, it isn't easy to go through a process that could potentially lead to rejection, especially while working another full-time job. But, your dad persevered and was rewarded for his effort and hard work.
So, what does this have to do with the language of [insert art form here] being universal? You might ask. Well, your daddy started working at a company that helps a whole lot of people have access to all different types of music in their lives. In fact, we stream music into our home by way of its services every single day.
How cool is that?!
The thing is, the minute you two were born (you were born in the same minute, so I can say that!) your daddy and I realized something. We realized that movies, music, story-times, and statues all have one thing in common: they inspire wonder. They make us see the world as something more than a small public library or a crowded BART ride. They make us smile. They give us a true sense of joy and purpose. You girls fill us with wonder everyday, and all we want to do is be there to share that with you.
I love you,
P.S. I've been thinking about this very literal example of "the language of music is universal" lately. It's one of my very favorite songs, teleporting me a carefree, warm, summer's day; at times I even find myself jumping around and spinning in circles when I hear it (the way you and your sis do when you're dancing). It's in Icelandic. I don't know what a single word means.
Just for the record, I could have gone several more weeks -- forever, really-- without the “self-portrait” challenge.
When I first saw that self-portrait was this week’s assignment, I envisioned setting aside the time this weekend, in which Joe would take the girls out to the park, on a walk, whatever. The time to shower, do my hair. I’d attempt to feel beautiful and appear refreshed by applying foundation over the dark circles and curling my falsely darkened lashes. I’d set up the tripod, my shutter release timer. I’d set up a space with the best lighting in our home, compose myself, breathe deeply, and go for it.
Needless to say, this did not happen. I’m sure, at some other time and in some other space in my life, I would have relished the thought of being assigned to photograph myself. But, in this time and space, that TYPE of self-portrait is more daunting that I can fully comprehend. Not because of the girls, or the fact that Joe was not supportive. The time was certainly there. What I wanted for this self-portrait, after much contemplation, was to be an honest portrayal of what my everyday experience is.
So, here I am, at a local educational play center with my daughters and their grandparents (visiting the Bay Area last week for spring break). Vera and Ru had been painting at the easel and I thought I could get all of us in the reflection. They bolted off before I even had the camera in my grasp. Before chasing after (at least one of) them, I took this (hence the, “screw it, now is as good a time as any” expression). Now, THAT is an accurate portrayal of me at this time in life.
Captured January 2, 2015 | 7:20PM - 7:29PM
Dear Ruby and Vera,
Here you are, frozen, in awe at your first ever sight of snow. (Bad pun intended. Sorry girls.)
We were celebrating the holidays (Christmas, New Year's, and daddy's birthday) at your grandparents' home in New Jersey. This evening in particular, we'd been playing in the basement, going through the normal routine before bedtime -- well, normal for being on vacation -- of reading books, playing with some toys, being all-around goofy. I had come upstairs from the basement to perhaps grab your sleep sacks or pacifiers (I don't recollect exactly now), glancing peripherally through the sliding-glass door in the kitchen, I immediately shot my head up after recognizing that flickering movement, filling with giddiness for you both, but admittedly in awe myself. The snow was coming down hard yet I still felt the need to sprint downstairs and beckon everyone up, as if in mere seconds it would cease, and the snow would evaporate back into the atmosphere, without you two getting your first chance to see the buckets of tiny, frozen, white droplets fluttering like feathers down from the gray, dome-like sky, seemingly out of nowhere.
But, you DID have the chance, and you found it as magical as I'd hoped. If only for a few seconds.
Ru, you uttered, "woooooow" while placing your hand up against the cool window pane and gazing out. And my sweet Vee, you did what my sweet Vee does...
You waited for your chance to be alone and, once more, tip-toed up to the glass, this time situating yourself square in the center, and stared in babbling, sing-songy contemplation at the beauty before you.
I hope you always see the world with such wonder, love bugs.
I love you,