California Calling

When we moved out of California three years ago, we didn’t think we’d be back for a while. And yet, we’ve traveled back twice since then. We just can’t seem to stay away.

This time, we wondered why we left in the first place.

Oakland Hills

We were in a state of flow the entire trip, the most enjoyable one to date with a toddler in tow. It helped that our rental home was high up in the Hills, where we felt like we were floating on clouds. The nicest place we’ve rented, by far.

There were stairs, so many stairs. We counted 50 steps alone to get down to the garden. We embraced them though, our legs now slightly more toned and our cardio slightly improved. The four stories of stairs were well worth the views on views on views.

Sibley Volcanic Regional Preserve

Hiking with a three year-old is interesting. He’s too big for the stroller, which didn’t fare well on the rocky trails anyway. He wanted to stop often to collect and chuck rocks, which didn’t bode well with his father who wanted to hike continuously. And, we underestimated the sun, failing to slather him with sunscreen.

But, we considered it a win getting him out in nature. We breathed in the intoxicating smell of bay leaves, eucalyptus trees, and the super blooms. We said hi to all of the dogs on the trail, missing our own Buddha back in Illinois. Coming from the flatlands, our glutes were grateful for the elevation. When we lived here and hiked Sibley on weekends, we took it for granted. Now, we know how special it is.

While heading back to our trailhead, I went down the slippery slope of asking Bub if he wanted to take a picture of Steve and me. I handed him my phone (on airplane mode) and for the rest of our 10-day trip, he offered to take photos of us - just to feel the phone in his hands. What have I started.

Tilden Little Farm

We came here last year with Bub and it is one of my favorite places for little ones. You can bring your own lettuce and celery to feed the animals. It’s attached to the Tilden Nature Area, giving us the option to hike afterwards. There is something about seeing children gently interact with animals that is such a joy to witness.

Photo by Bub

Mill Valley

Going out for dinner, whether at a restaurant or a friend’s house, became the norm on this trip. I’ve dreamed of having a family that tried all different types of foods and restaurants together. I’m slowly realizing this dream and it took getting over my fear of 1) leaving the house and 2) letting my kid eat something I didn’t cook. Easy for most parents to do. Very hard for me.

In Mill Valley, we went to the Watershed Restaurant, where we ordered the sardines on toast. Crispy sardines on a layer of avocado mash, topped with pickled peppers, on hearty sourdough bread - surprisingly delicious.

After lunch, we looked for a park nearby to take Bub. Steve found Old Mill Park a few minutes away. When we drove up to it, I was in awe. There is a photo on my vision board of a place like this playground. In the photo, a group of children are playing outside at a forest school. Surrounded by tall, strong trees. A place where kids can play freely in nature, in the fresh air. For over an hour, we chucked rocks in the stream, played hide-and-seek between the giant redwoods, and enjoyed a playground so different than the ones we see in Illinois.

Oakland Zoo

We met up with my best friend and his family at the Oakland Zoo, a place with over 11,000 positive Google reviews - the most I’ve ever seen. Before having kids, there was no reason for me to go to any zoo. Wildlife in captivity, overpriced food, children running around like animals. Wouldn’t touch the place with a ten-foot pole. Then I had a kid and was convinced to visit the Oakland Zoo primarily for the gondola ride everyone raves about.

When Bub was a baby, I used to tell Steve that we’d always put Bub’s needs first. We agreed we’d leave any place if Bub ever needed to feed, nap, or go to bed. A nice excuse to have when we wanted to leave a place early. But on this day at the zoo, nobody wanted to leave. Four hours flew by before Steve and I debated whether to stay or go (as Bub tiredly spaced out in the bat exhibit). Excited by all the activities and things to see (the gondola did not disappoint). Full from the cafeteria pizza and hamburger he had for lunch. Exhausted from running in the sun. Thirsty from finishing his milk and only having tap water to drink (I know, I spoil him). We asked ourselves, “Do we let him fall asleep in the wagon? Do we go home now to nap? Do we risk staying a little longer and skip a nap completely?”

I didn’t know what to do. I should put Bub’s needs first. We should have left an hour ago so he could nap in a bed. But, I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay and hang out with my friends. Friends I only get to see once a year. I made the not-so-great parenting decision of staying another half an hour and feeding Bub chocolate Dippin’ Dots. We left shortly after and didn’t even get to check out the amusement rides. Pretty sure I was the one who was pouting when we left.

NAPA

Google “kid-friendly wineries in Napa” and Frog’s Leap Winery will appear in the results. Let me tell you that the only “kid-friendly” thing about Frog’s Leap Winery is the garden, albeit a very large and organic garden. I was hoping to order a charcuterie board while Steve sipped some wine, but the winery only offered tastings (which I’m sure is common in Napa given wineries would need to go through the hassle of obtaining food and alcohol licenses). Nevertheless, we had a lovely time running through the flowers, clucking at the chickens, petting the property dog, and pointing out the frogs in the pond.

Steve looked up a couple places nearby we could have lunch at and I chose The Charter Oak Restaurant in Helena solely based on the picture of soft-serve I saw. “I want that,” I told Steve decidedly. “Alrighty,” Steve chuckled as he drove us to the nicest restaurant we’ve ever taken a toddler. Throughout our expensive meal, we caught Bub chucking the housemade playdough the hostess gave us, told Bub repeatedly to put his shoes back on, and tried to convince him to eat a couple of vegetables while he impatiently waited for his ice cream. My only regret is that we didn’t order two soft-serve ice creams.

Friends, food, & fog

Memorial Day weekend was dedicated to seeing our friends and family as much as we could. Difficult with a toddler who finds adult conversations boring. One of us was always entertaining him so that the other could catch up with friends.

Steve and I started to pretend that this was our day-to-day life. We got used to the fog greeting us in the mornings and in the evenings. We remembered to always carry sunscreen with us for when the sun would inevitably appear midday. We thought about which neighborhoods we’d want to live in as we drove through them and which schools we’d want Bub to attend. Even though we’ve made the decision to settle in Illinois, we still wrestle with the dream of coming back west for good. As Steve reassured everyone throughout the week, “It’s not a matter of if. It’s a matter of when.”

The fog in the morning

The view midday

The sunset on a clear night

Goodbye super cool house

Thanks for the photo ops, Bub

Thanks for the largest organic strawberries, Berkeley Bowl

Thanks for the good food and fast service, United Dumplings

Thanks for letting us chat at friends’ houses, Bub, while you sat quietly and ate watermelon

Thank you, Ajanta, for the meal Steve and I look forward to every time we visit

Thanks for letting us borrow the Batmobile, Batman

Back to Cali

In December, the week before Christmas, this little family got COVID. While we threw ourselves a pity party during our week of quarantining, we planned a trip to California. Armed with antibodies, we were ready to open up our world.

As I booked flights and Airbnbs, I knew the trip would give me anxiety, but it felt so far away. I filed the trip anxiety under “Read later”.

Then, the week leading into our trip, I was a ball of nerves. One minute I’d be looking forward to hearing the ocean waves and being surrounded by forest. The next, I’d worry about whether the Ubers getting us to and from the airport would smell like cigarette smoke. Traveling with a kid is a thousand times harder than traveling on my own.

There are so many details to think about when vacationing with Bubba. (Is it really a “vacation” when your kid is with you?) Snacks to bring on the plane for him. How many diapers to bring. Whether to bring a box of pasta if we get to our first Airbnb too late at night. What to pack in the carry-ons in case our suitcases get lost. The list goes on for pages.

Of course, most of these details are rooted in fear and anxiety. Now that I look back on our trip, most of my fears didn’t happen. I wish I were a more carefree parent. I wish I didn’t care about so many things when it comes to my child. I wish my mind didn’t jump to so many “what ifs” and feel the need to have a plan for everything. Life, for myself and everyone around me, would be so much easier.

Somehow, this trip forced me to let go of things that would normally bother me at home. There were times we couldn’t wash Bub’s hands before he ate. There were times I couldn’t cook a homemade meal for him. There were times we let him watch TV for two hours so we could catch up with friends.

But, my letting go also created memorable experiences. On our trip, Bub went to a restaurant for the first time and ate his first French fry. He ate his first chocolate chip cookie. He hung out with Steve while I went to the office for the first time in two years.

This trip marked two years of living in Illinois; two years of being parents; two years of pandemic isolation. Exactly two years after we left California, we were back. Bub in tow.

We drove down roads we frequented in our Prius with Buddha in the backseat. This time, we were in a minivan with Bub in a car seat. I was happy to be amongst the trees and seas again. I loved being able to go to a new hiking trail each day. I loved letting Bub play with sticks and stones and dump dirt on his boots. I loved when we pointed out to him the tiny roly poly crossing the trail. I loved watching him collect rocks and chuck them across a ravine. I’ve missed being completely immersed in nature and have it be so close by. The Bay has a distinct smell to it - piney, herby, earthy. Hiking through the trails again, the smell and the nostalgia of two years ago came flooding back. Breathing it in deeply, I felt calmer, more grounded. Steve joked that I had to go to the edge of the earth in order to feel a sense of peace.

This trip was full of firsts for Bub and each of his firsts is a first for me as his mama. First flight for Bub means first flight for me with a toddler. First restaurant experience for Bub means first restaurant experience for me with him. One of the best parts about a trip is the unknown, the uncertainty, the sense of adventure. For this anxious mom, new things mean risk and danger. This trip taught me that the pros of adventure outweigh the cons. Life should be about fun and adventure, and that’s what I want to teach Reg.

My wise friend gave me wonderful advice before the trip. She said, “When your mind jumps to worst case scenario, force yourself to also think about the best case.” And isn’t “best case” the very reason we plan trips in the first place?

Dillon Beach & Point Reyes

Berkeley

Half Moon Bay

Bye Bye, Bay

Dear California,

My husband, pup, and I embarked on a new adventure in 2018. We didn’t know what you would have in store but we were ready for something new.

You showed me the beauty that is Mother Nature. I gazed in awe at the mammoth trees in Tahoe, the cliffs in Carmel, and the coast along the 101. In an hour, we went from the grimy city to the pristine shores of Point Reyes.

You also showed me firsthand that Mother Nature is suffering and that climate change is more powerful than ever. I breathed in the toxic air of wildfires, saw the plastic pollution in the ocean, and cried about whether we could reverse the devastation.

You gave me new friends, amazing souls I love and can’t wait to see again. In a new place, we were welcomed with open arms and soon, California began to feel like home. For that, I am forever grateful.

I didn’t understand California cuisine for the longest time. I get it now. Thank you, Berkeley, for opening my eyes to the fruit we can grow in our yards (as small as the yards may be). From lemons to loquats, we saw homes that utilized all of the space they were given. Thank you, Berkeley Bowl, for the cornucopia of fresh produce and making it always available. Thank you, Chez Panisse, for showing me that simple meals with fresh quality ingredients are metaphors for life.

I’ll miss the smell of the Redwoods, the closeness of hiking trails, and the plethora of Asian food. I’ll miss how the winters felt like fall, deceiving me into thinking no time had passed at all.

And what a trick it was. Suddenly, two years passed. Our marriage strengthened each weekend as we went on long hikes and drives to the coast, or when we simply relaxed at home. We finally had time to ourselves. We fought less, loved more, and only had each other to lean on. We spent weekends looking for adventure instead of worrying about obligations. California, in a way, was one long, bonus honeymoon. And we left the Bay with the ultimate culmination, our very own bay-bay.

Thank you for a chapter in my life I will look back on fondly,

Linda