Grandkids

Gram with her grandbabies:

Curiouser and curiouser

I adore watching Cole's growing curiosity.  A simple trip to the park turns into an escapade of following ants; discovering different kinds of leaves; exploring textures of bark on tree trunks; splitting open seed pods; observing different heights of trees; and picking flowers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This age...I will never stop being amazed at how much I love showing my boy the world.

Scenes from our Portland adventure

Scenes from our Portland adventure:

Running off some energy in the driveway:

 

 

 

 

 

Cousin bath time!

 

 

 

 Just look at that pudgy little baby! All those rolls!

 Baking with Auntie Meggie - she always knows just what Cole loves to do!

So glad the cousins get some wonderful time together :)

Change your life

This little story popped up on my Facebook page this weekend and I just had to repost:

 

"We are sitting at lunch one day when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family." "We're taking a survey," she says half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?"

"It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.

"I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations."

But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes.

I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.

I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking, "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her.

That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.

I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal without a moments hesitation.

I feel that I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her
baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.

I want my daughter to know that every day decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming
children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom.

However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.

Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself.

That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give herself up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years, not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.

I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor.

My daughter's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks.

I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child.

I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.

I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving.

I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike.

I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or cat for the first time.

I want her to taste the joy that is so real it actually hurts.

My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I finally say. Then I reached across the table, squeezed my daughter's hand and offered a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings."

-Author Unknown

Wonder

Dear Cole,

Every once in a while, while I'm observing you at play (or "WORKING FERRY FERRY [very] HARD, MAMA!"), I catch a little glimpse of your personality.  Of traits and distinguishing features that might play a larger part in your future.

I think about how organized and specific you are with your toys.  If you are not in the middle of a project, you always put them away in the exact right spot you chose for them.  You take the time to make sure things are "right" - no sloppiness here - delighting in the "menial" organizing tasks.

And I wonder if you might become a financial analyst or banker.

I think about how you take such joy in the process of your play and "work".  How you don't take shortcuts.  How you would methodically use each and every marker one time when making art, lining up the used ones in one pile, so orderly. 

And I wonder if you might become a scientist, a researcher, with your thoroughness and attention to detail.

I think about how much you love to run and run, yet you can spend literally hours listening to books or reading books on your own.

And I wonder if you might become an Olympic runner or a book editor.

I think about how interested you are, how curious with "how things work".  I think about your fascination with bones and muscles.

And I wonder if you might become a doctor or a surgeon.

I think about how much you enjoy being in the kitchen with me, "helping" with every step of baking, delighting with measuring and pouring and stirring.  And if you are not allowed to help for some reason, how you patiently sit on the barstools across the counter with your head in your hands, chatting to me happily, watching every step, and asking a million questions. 

And I wonder if you might be a chef.

I think about how you love to build with your blocks - stacking them to make "TOWNHOUSES! CASTLE! CHURCH!" - using various sizes, practicing which ones will stack and how high you can build them. 

And I wonder if you might be an engineer.

And then, sometimes, I wonder how I can possibly stand to wait to see what you will choose to do with your wonderful talents.  How I am so excited to see what your future holds.

But then, I think about how fast you are growing in front of my very eyes...and I think that I can wait patiently for a very long time.

Writer's Block

oh hai.

remember me?

I've had some writer's block.  Actually, major writer's block.  I have about sixteen posts that are partially finished, but nothing awesome is coming out of these typing fingers.

Not to worry.  I'm sure it's nothing a glass of wine or two won't fix.

We'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming soon. :)

5 Things

1. This New York Times article about a couple who found their son on the New York Subway is so heartwarming - just the thing to read to cheer you up.

2.  If you haven't met me in real life, you might not know that I ADORE everything Parisian, particularly the Eiffel Tower.  The other day, Cole observed that a reusable bag we have has "EIFF-EL TO-WER!"  My mom asked him if he knew where the Eiffel Tower was and he gave her a "duh" look and pointed to the bag.  "It's right there, Gram! Duh!"

3.  This video:

(Reposted from Kadance's facebook)

4. Cole enjoying many, many, MANY hours of reading with Gram on her visit:

 

5. Mr. Roger's acceptance speech for his lifetime achievement award: