More Todays

When Bo was a baby, we watched and weighed every ounce he gained. I agonized over every milestone, dreading each month and each milestone that slipped or squeaked by. Looking back, I remember spending way more time soothing him to sleep than I should have. Aching feet, peaceful baby, lullabies and the sun fading in the window. I savored those moments, knowing there would not necessarily be many more. But still wishing away those baby days, wishing him to grow up. Just grow up. Don't leave us with just your baby words. I need to know you better before you go. And now he is a big boy.

And then there was Ahn. She has grown so fast that I can't believe how heavy and tall she already is. I barely remember her being a baby. She is as big at 8 months as Bo was at 16 months. Baby Ahn stood up for the first time yesterday.

The day before that, I walked into her room in the morning to feed her and she said, "EAT!" No mistaking the word. First, dadada, then momomomomom, next EAT and finally, yesterday, she said, "Bo!"

Best February Weekend Ever

We spent Saturday morning at Binnslandia and Bo built his first snowman, had his first snowball fight, went sledding and even shoveled the driveway like a snowplow! Lunch wasn't bad either (thanks, Maggie!). So many things I never did expect to see. The seed of my heart has been cracked open again and a sprout of green is growing through, like Baby Ahn's two bottom teeth.

I got to cruise through downtown K'zoo with both kids strapped into my double decker stroller.

I built a snowman in the front yard for kicks and my driving gloves are still cold and clammy (so much for sponteneity).

Words for Toddlers

How do you describe the difference between darkness and shadow? How do you explain the nuance of animated discussion of an annoying topic versus an actual argument?

"Stop talking grumpy, Mommy!"
"It's dark now" as we walk into the shade.

I'm no longer driving to work in what feels like the middle of the night. Soupy grey mornings seem so bright and cheery compared to the drive to work shrouded in secrecy and darkness. I'm trying to live wholeheartedly, embracing the vulnerability, finding my superpowers.

Happy Year of the Golden Rabbit!

The New Year blew in with silent fury. A blizzard of icy angora rabbits littering the sides of the road in their ridiculously giant, stories high quiet. How can something so impermanent cause so much real damage? It will all be melted in a few short months. A surreal memory in our green and luscious summer days.

I think I saw Ahn's first teeth (tooth?). They are barely in, reflecting the light, but just. She is drooly and only as fussy as she ever gets, not much.

I saw the top of my foot and got a little weepy. Firstly, my foot is almost always covered in this weather. But more importantly, I saw again, the scar where my "lunar" had been. The one that matches one on Bo's foot. It was a reminder of how permanently he is tied to my heart, and how these bodies that are so precious are so fragile. And it may be considered a bit of vanity to prize them so highly, but it's the only existence I know. And my faith is imperfect. And I know that when we are parted in this world, my heart will ache with the combustion of a million suns.

I look up to pull Bo's hat and mittens off to, "Just BoBo do it!" Unless we're talking about putting his boots on, then it's, "Just Mommy do it!"

I go to the links on my sidebar a lot, maybe obsessively. I witness their suffering. It reminds me that my own troubles are both behind and before me. It is like licking a healing lip. Ouch. Yup. It still hurts. Don't forget. Don't forget what that feels like. Don't forget what it felt like to rock him to sleep, shifting from foot to foot, singing about spiders and suns and rain. Don't forget how funny she is slowly collapsing from sitting up- crying out with indignity. Don't forget how delighted she is with his too-pretty lashes, how she is in wonder at her sweet babbling. Don't forget his fervent bridge building- across generations, cultures, this life and the next.

As another part of my heart belonging to my dear friends is wrung with grief for their mother who passed last week, I am reminded that this brokenness I feel is the place where the weld will be stronger than the untested fibers of my being.

And the life that swept the breath out of me for months, continues to take my breath away. She eats with gusto, lunging at the spoon, incapable of waiting the nanosecond it would take to travel from between us to her mouth. She is the Spoonabomber. Joyful, jolly, gentle. Peace.