As each day passes, I feel that time is going by increasingly fast. One morning Jude will be standing up, supporting himself with a tentative hand on the chair then the next evening he’s walking around the room, leaning against his block-cart. Since the bulk of the day is spent away from Jude, I notice changes much more frequently than before.
One evening Jude seemed extra crabby and, peering into his mouth, I noticed another tooth had come in. With his previous teeth, I always noticed the swollen nubs before the actual tooth immerged. A tooth isn’t a big deal, but I know I’d be crushed to miss Jude’s first steps or another major milestone.
In many respects, this hyper-awareness has made me value my time with him even more. I’m acutely conscious that for five days out of the week I only spend an average of three hours a day or a third of his waking hours. Instead of obsessively cleaning the house or catching up on phone calls, I’m a lot more vigilant about reading, playing and just spending time together.
One thing we enjoy doing together now that we live in Portland is exploring all the beautiful parks in the area. When I write park, I mean in the national forest sense, with mountainous terrain, trees abound and visibility for miles from the top. So far, we’ve explored the arboretum, Washington and Taber Park.
As always, Jude enjoys eating. Adding to his food repertoire, he ate salmon tonight; practically inhaling chunks of the stuff while screaming in frustration when more didn’t materialized.
In downtown, we stopped at a food cart where Jude dined on Vietnamese pho (is the pronunciation “fo” as in “fo sho!” or “pooh”?) with sweet sauce from the chopsticks I used. When it comes to food, Jude never hesitates for a moment nor does he discriminate in any way.
By far the most exciting event this past week was the Portland Mom’s group meeting. The meeting was held around 7 p.m. at a nifty brewpub on the east side. Jude tagged along so Matt could get some work done. Once I walked inside, it dawned on me that most mothers probably wouldn’t dream of bringing their baby to an establishment that makes and serves alcohol.
After I walked through the bar and said hello to the other patrons who didn’t so much as bat an eye, I then entered a room full of women with beers in their hands, laughing and talking in small groups. Still, no babies in sight.
Within minutes, I was entirely at ease, chatting with the leader, a quirky woman named Lynda originally from San Francisco. Jude began digging into some humus and pita bread as we sat down to talk. Across the room, I spied another mom with an adorable Scoobina nestled in her arms, and we briefly made eye-contact as though saying, “I too am crazy enough to bring my baby at bedtime to a brewery.”
Somehow, Lisa and 6-month-old Sadie drifted over to me and Jude. Sadie was dressed in an adorable blue-and-white knit sweater and even had a bow in her blond hair. I wanted to take a nibble right there.
During the raffle and group introduction, Jude and Sadie made bird squawks back and forth to each other, and Jude even going so far as to flap his arms like a proud peacock showing off his plumage.
After a few beers and talking with the other non-pretentious and friendly moms, Jude and Sadie began making out. Seriously. Lisa and I placed them together and in response to recognizing one another as fellow little humans, they simultaneously opened their mouths and…mouth-kissed. I even noticed Sadie throwing in a little tongue action. One woman gagged on banana bread as she convulsed with laughter watching the event unfolding before her eyes.
Another mom grabbed her camera phone and swiped a grainy shot of them in the midst of a passionate embrace, ideal for future blackmail.
Lisa and I promised to meet up for future make-outs.
Having shed a few tears over the scene Jude and Sadie caused in addition to hearing stories of three-year-olds salivating over Victoria Secret’s bras and an elementary aged son’s self-exploration in the supermarket, I felt like we’d made a good decision in coming to Portland.
As I coasted over the Hawthorne bridge to the west side, I experienced great sense of affirmation; the decision to move 3,000 miles to Portland was really for the best. Even though it’s been a struggle removing ourselves from family and friends, it make this experience all the more unique and challenging.
I find it reassuring to meet down-to-earth women who are open to new friendships, regardless of age differences. It was also impressive to learn numerous women run their own businesses, many of which focus on mental and physical wellness.
So far, I’ve experienced an openness and willingness to meet others in Portland, rivaled only by Thailand, but certainly more affable than any other major city I’ve visited in the USA.
On another note, for my birthday, we’re getting professional pictures taken of Jude. Whenever I found places on the East Coast, the fees were outrageous and would have required months of fasting or homelessness in order to pay. This time, my cousin’s husband’s brother (phew!), a professional photographer, will be cutting us a break for the session.
Given the recent explosion of vibrant foliage cropping up around the Hoyt Arboretum, we’ve opted to stage the shots there. The weather has been perfect- crisp but not too chilly, warm but not humid- so we’re hoping it’ll hold up for tomorrow. Bring on the cuteness, Jude Lei!

Today marked Matt’s 25th birthday and Jude’s first Portland Trailblazer’s game against the Utah Jazz. Initially Jude’s blue eyes crinkled and lips puckered as he sobbed whenever loud blow-horns resonated in the arena. However, once he received his Trailblazers blow up boppers to distract the other team from shooting, he became quite animated; smiling, laughing and jumping as each “bop” “bop” occurred.
Aside from basketball and birthdays, Jude has been spending much time exploring his new environment. After Matt installed a baby gate, the family room has essentially morphed into the official playroom, filled with various toys and books. A black chair in the shape of a comma provides the perfect opportunity for Jude to pull himself to a standing position before flopping back down. We’ve also had to baby-proof all the light sockets after we learned that Jude finds the tiny holes in the walls particularly intriguing.
Anytime I’m home before dark, Jude and I sneak away to the gorgeous arboretum less than half a mile away filled with Redwoods, Spider monkey trees (I’m serious!), a whole assortment of pines and arrow-like Douglas Furs. The whole place smells like Christmas and gives off a whimsical, fairy tale aura. No matter if Jude had been cranky or cooing like a parakeet, he’s immediately quieted upon entering the woods. I think he likes the solitude and feeling the coolness of the ground.
Did I mention that he eats everything? Since arriving in Portland, Jude has dined on Indian curry and Nan bread, sushi and vegetarian pizza. He’s enjoyed sampling the worldwide cuisine, although he was disappointed when the sushi wouldn’t roll after he removed the nifty seaweed wrapping.
Because I’m working (if you consider data entry and stuffing envelopes working) full-time, Matt has become Mr. Mom, a seriously arduous and underrated duty. The first day on the job, when I arrived back to the apartment it looked like post World War III had struck, plus Jude was crawling around naked with powder all over his bottom. Matt appeared bewildered and shell-shocked as he explained how Jude had eaten a few too many pears and as a result explosive diarrhea occurred.
Another afternoon Matt and Jude met me for lunch downtown. Jude’s clothes were on backwards and the middle of his diaper was hanging, very unfashionably, between his legs. In all, Matt claims that a day alone with Jude can be just as tiring as a day driving across the country.
We decided this past week, with encouragement for Grandma Sus, that daycare might be a viable option to free up some time for Matt to search for jobs. Each morning on my way to work, I pass a little Montessori daycare where the kids are actually smiling and not screaming hysterically.
One afternoon, I swung by and spoke with the director, a girl not much younger than me, whose parents began the school when she was just three after they felt dissatisfied with the Portland daycare facilities. The seed for the Children’s Garden was then potted.
For two days I visited on my lunch break, scrupulously observing the teachers (they’re not called daycare providers or babysitters) reading to the babies, playing and holding them. Tessa, the director, was patient as I peppered her with questions and seemed very excited about meeting Jude.
Even though they all seem perfectly nice, I still have a bowling-ball sized lump in my throat when I think of leaving my baby with people I don’t know. Until now, Jude has only been left in the care of family or close friends. I try rationalizing this decision by telling myself that it’s good for him to socialize and that Matt needs the time to find a much-needed job, but I can’t seem to ameliorate the lump.
On Friday, Matt and Jude visited the Children’s Garden. I dropped them off before hurrying back to work. That evening, Matt told me how Jude, short of mauling the other babies, mouth-kissed and slobbered on them. Teachers all seemed really sweet and one is from Cambodia. Matt apparently talked about Southeast Asia with her as Jude was on the prowl.
When I held my son and asked if he had a good day, he replied by attacking my chest then making some delightful farting sounds as he blew against Mrs. BB. That’s about as good as it gets in Jude’s terms.
Time for bed. Since working, I’ve come to realize how important it is to get a good night’s sleep because there’s no more napping in the middle of the day!

(written 10/2/08)
9 months after birth: new coast, new state, new zip code and, oh yes, mommy is now working. Today marks Jude’s nine month “birthday”, which also represents our second round of separation as he matures and grows. First, after nine months of gestation, Jude became his own little person and now, another nine months later (how I wish I could say all my baby fat has evaporated!) I’ve become a part of the working mother’s coalition as Jude spends the bulk of his day with Dad. I like to think of our time as a sandwich. All the meat, lettuce, tomato and butter or mayo is spent with Matt, while the start and the finish, the bread, is with me. I wake up in the morning with Jude, feed him his breakfast, cuddle, hang out then upon returning back around 5:30 p.m., we follow the opposite routine where we first hang out, then eat then bedtime. Although the sandwich ends may not necessarily be the most delicious or fun, they’re definitely essential for holding the sandwich together. At least that’s what I tell myself.
Let me back up a bit, however. After Virginia, Jude and I boarded an airplane not for Portland, but for Phoenix due to flight delays and cancellations. Along with a crowded flight of disgruntled passengers, we occupied a middle seat for the arduous 5 1/2 hour flight. Note to self: Never, never ever again fly with a non-breast-fed child. It is my definition of hell if you also throw in waiting in line at the DMV. Jude couldn’t understand why Mommy wouldn’t let him lunge at and mouth-kiss the two men on either side of us, not to mention why I wouldn’t allow him to squeeze and play with the great, fuzzy fur-ball of kinky hair peaking above the seat in front of us. He couldn’t understand that the new toy was attached to a cranky man’s head who preferred to not have his locks smeared with apple sauce, biscuit crumbs and saliva. Much back-arching and food-spitting took place as a result.
In Phoenix, we were bumped from our connecting flight and spent the night in a hotel provided by the airline. Jude was exhausted and hot and somehow I realized the next morning that I’d stripped him of his clothes and now had no idea where I’d placed them. Long story short, Jude arrived in Portland sporting Arizona Wildcats apparel and a DC sweatshirt from Grandma Janet.
Similar to how Goldilocks searched until she found that “just right” bowl of pourage, I experienced a “just right” moment as Grandpa Dave picked Jude and me up at the airport in the midst of sunshine, luscious pine trees and a van full of household goods. I’ve never been so grateful for help in my entire life, particularly when he took over Jude duties to allow me to eat and sleep.
The new apartment is gorgeous and on top of a mountain that overlooks the city. Two bedrooms, two full bathrooms and my favorite, a sliding door leading out to the balcony overlooking a plethora of trees, grass and shrubs. From the kitchen, it’s possible to cook a meal as Jude plays in the family room without craning one’s neck to make sure he hasn’t electrocuted himself, as the kitchen overlooks the carpeted family room. Our manager was accommodating enough to give us the unit after the one we originally signed for resembled something akin to a cellar or dungeon.
Matt’s mom, Grandma Sus, always cautions that Jude will start walking soon since Matt walked at ten months. Although the thought of my toe-head tottering about terrifies me, I’m impressed with how Jude pushes up against me as I sit on the ground to a standing position. The official name for this is “cruising”, although he’s really doing anything but that. Once his legs straighten, he’s like a newborn colt as he totters and collapses on his bottom, then looks around with a bewildered expression.
The two front teeth have come down a bit more, so now Jude’s rocking the homeless look as the very visible bottom four steal the show compared with the nubs. He’s still cute as ever, especially when exploring empty boxes and doing his grunts that sound half dishwasher and half weed-whacker.
Between all the jabbering, crawling, eating and pooping there’s never a dull moment in our lives! Destination biking for this weekend with Jude in a baby trailer.