language beyond words

Hank only has a few words so far. But he can express so much with a smile, a giggle, a skeptical look. He entertains the whole family with a sigh at just the right moment. He conveys urgency through cries and he lets us know when he needs to snuggle by guiding our hands to his armpits to be picked up. I try not to tease out intentional words from the constant babble, but even though he does not use sentences yet, I often feel like I hear them. I think this is true for his older brothers, too. After school, the boys will check in with Hank. Today Tolliver asked, "Did you have a good day?" Hank just smiled, barely breaking the seal around his thumb and raising one eyebrow just a bit. "I know," Tollie said, "I missed you, too."



So many decisions. So many ways we can mess up. Or be awesome, or wish for a do-over, or step back and smile.  Life is so good and so hard all at once. I appreciate, for the most part, every single day, but sometimes I want to do it with a margarita in each hand.
Over the past several years my range of feelings seems to have busted open, the spectrum from happy to sad and from confident to concerned is not just as far as I can stretch my arms, it’s suddenly up the block and over to the next neighborhood.
I understand the benefits of emodiversity, and am grateful for the capacity to feel broad and deep and abundant. I am constantly trying to remind myself to watch my feelings as they pass through rather than chasing them away with ice cream or mindless scrolling or exercise or margaritas in both hands.
I think the best thing to do is to commit to what feels possible, and to persist. But I'm just not sure.
I'm not even sure when I figured out that adulthood is not synonymous with certitude.  Perhaps being comfortable being uncomfortable is the most effective way to be a human.


one book

Sometimes we're both just one book away from a better mood.


fit in

I continue to get the distinct impression that he is not going to fit in any boxes.
In fact, that box the universe provides little boys at birth?
I have a feeling he's building a rocket ship with his.


Love doesn't stink.

I don't know, I kind of think love smells like little boys and bourbon after they're in bed, like artichoke dip and laughs with my sister and chocolate covered strawberries before dinner, like loyalty and like the lavender lotion we used to lather on Celia every night.  


Walk and Awe

I cannot force myself to do it every time, but today I chose his experience over my convenience.
Everything moved so much slower.

Sometimes he makes me slow down and sometimes he makes me speed up and most of the time he makes me smile about things that may have otherwise become stale.


11 month review

At eleven months, Hank loves to climb and to un-garden all the house plants, to eat fish and cheese and fruit, to flip light switches and take baths. He is a confident walker, a voracious book eater and a strong-willed tiny despot. He is constantly insisting that music be playing and has the best little one-armed dance move.
He is pretty much the most lovable little baby in the whole world.
I'd give him two thumbs up and all the stars in the sky.