Relative

Tucker has been sick for several days.  What began as an elevated temperature and sneezing turned into a fever, runny nose, earache, coughing mess.  He has been one sad, tired wreck of a baby, just not himself at all.  The kind of sick that inspires some to conduct frantic Dr. Google searches and others to share social media messages of woe.  But for our family, despite our inexperience with this kind of infant illness, despite our sincere sympathy for his discomfort, despite the dried snot on our shoulders and the sleep deprivation, this sick seems so simple, so survivable.  Because it was this week last year, after spending all day with a team of developmental specialists, we were told our daughter's MRI showed diffuse volume loss, that her brain had atrophied, that she was very sick. 

JEB

Out the Window

Tucker's first eight months have flown by. He has a bit more hair, silky fluff like the stuff inside a milkweed pod, just dark enough to be disqualified as blond. He is generous with grins, each bigger than a slice of watermelon. His doe eyes are painted the perfect shade of serene, fringed with outrageously average lashes. He propels himself using an effective yet peculiar butterfly stroke/inchworm squirm. He climbs steps hastily and cruises around furniture with flair.

He flings ashes from the fireplace, splashes water from the dog’s bowl, tips bathroom trash cans, empties kitchen cabinets, swipes coffee and side tables clear. In fact, he's been known to do all these things before 10am on an average day. BUT, we are thrilled to have a busy little person in the house, one we can chase after and clean up behind. One who stands at the back door like his sister did, and leaves handprints on the glass, right where they used to be, right where I needed handprints to be again.

JEB

Dear Coach

I've been practicing.


Love,
Buckeye Tuck

Raise Raze

We can’t say that we’re raising Celia. We had wide open spaces in our hearts for her to grow up in, but we won’t get to see her to maturity. Now, we can only try to keep her comfortable. And most of the time, lately, she seems to be.

But when she isn't comfortable, or when we allow ourselves to think beyond the moment, her disease seems to raze us. We try not to let it destroy us, don’t want it to tear us to pieces.
And it won’t, not completely.
JEB

The Shoe Fits

Two years ago, we took Celia to OSU, with Grandpa Rod's sister Cherie along to capture Celie's first visit to the Horseshoe.

CEB - OSU, fall 2007

Cherie went with us again last week, to take photographs of Tucker's first experience at the stadium. Through some stroke of serendipity, a gentleman walking past (whom we later learned was the AD of Finance and Operations) asked whether we'd rather take pictures on the field. He unlocked the gate and led us into the stadium and onto the turf. Several minutes later, football players began to arrive for practice. The Buck's long-snapper offered Tucker the football, and arranged it next to him so the OSU logo would show, while the punter tickled Tuck and talked to him. All of this inspired lots of smiles, which Cherie expertly suspended in time.

For a family photo session that seemed semi-bittersweet, the scales tipped toward the sweet side last week. Mr. Jay's kind invitation, the sincere interest of the special teams guys, the look on Tucker's face as he crossed into the endzone -- these things will all be part of the story we'll recount to Tuck someday, about his first time on the field.

JEB

Irreconcilable

Gratitude for what is, and aching for what is not.

JEB

He

These two boys are my heart's helium.

             Thank you for the photo session, Cherie!

JEB