Rock the Size of Gibraltar

I'm not wearing one. I live with one. And I'd way rather my rock be by my side than on my finger or around my neck, if you know what I mean...

JEB

Rock Stars may be Jealous

Although Andy does have some experience as Celia's hairdresser, her tangled tresses and Tucker's miniature mohawk require little coaxing from us. No toiling away with brushes or combs around here. We're going with au naturale, and wondering whether they'll set any new trends...

JEB

What I Thought

I used to think that Easter was about egg hunts and jelly beans, pictures with the Bunny and frilly dresses. I mean, I know the felt board Sunday school story, crucified and risen. And I've heard the Holy Week sermon a time or two. But I didn't give it a whole lot of thought outside of one Sunday morning a year, and even then my mind may have wandered to thoughts of devouring deviled eggs later in the day... and, let's be honest, I was looking forward to Reese eggs, too.

I thought that this year we'd celebrate Easter with pastel plastic eggs, hidden, discovered, opened and shared.
I thought that this year would allow for some great photos, of not just one but two children, in cute color-coordinated outfits.
I thought that this year we could dye eggs together, that our fingers might be stained purple at Easter dinner, a sign of our dedicated decorating.

I think that this year the story I've heard over and over was heard differently, was more meaningful, made more sense.

I know that Easter is not all bunny hops and bonnet parades. It's life and death, and life again...

The hyacinths, party favors from Cel's first birthday last year, are blooming in our yard again this spring, a symbol of the glorious promise of eternal life...

JEB

Bambi

There's been LOTS of crying around here the past 24 hours. The sound has filled any brain space that may have been available for inspiring nice blog posts.

In the movie, the rabbit Thumper's mother reminds him (just as my mother often did):

"If you don't have anything nice to say... don't say nothin' at all."

And we don't right now. We'll post more again when we do. JEB

Perfect by Every Measure

Tucker is one month old. One month. It's really just another number. He's gained three pounds, and grown three inches. More numbers. Sometimes we get hung up on numbers and measurements.

It won't matter much to him, to anybody, how much Tucker weighed when he was 1 month old. His size has very little to do with who he is, or the sizable impact he's already had on us. We'll keep track of these measurements, when we remember. Our records won't be meticulous. But we aim to keep track of more, too... to describe him, how he already amazes and inspires us.

He lifts his head, sparsely covered in fine dark hair, supported by such a strong neck. He fixes his eyes, dark blue and gray and brown, they focus and follow. He purses his lips, full and pink, a little like his sister's, his tongue occasionally flicking in and out. He cuddles into the crook of Andy's arm, and rests there almost as soundly as he rests in his carseat. When he's awake, he thinks he needs to eat, hungry to the brink of starvation. He raises his eyebrows and swallows in synchrony. And when he's finished eating, he burps in a manner that sounds as though he's been swigging beer. He might be proud of his booming baby belches someday. It might mean more to him than how much he weighed.

Tucker is, by our accounts, perfect by every measure.

JEB

What's Up

Chicken butt?
For some reason, that's what Aunt Kate has been asking me all day...

Tucker

Let there be Light

There doesn't seem to be a light at the end of the tunnel. But that doesn't mean we're in the dark. We just have to find our own light.
Yesterday I got to take a shower (only a few hours after having been spit up on) and use an awesomely refreshing minty flavored soap. And this morning, I saw Celia giving Andy kisses, just like she used to - leaning in with an open mouth and lots of drool. A few days ago a beautiful flowering bush was delivered, a gift from dear friends. Every Wednesday, in March and April, sweet women from book club bring delicious dinners to our home. Yesterday, as I was running errands, a car with two high-schoolish boys inched forward next to me at a stoplight on High Street; they were totally flirting (apparently oblivious to the carseats in the back of my Jeep...) I'll take that as a compliment, an indication that maybe I am still hotdotcom. That'll count as light. Tonight, my sister is making us squash pancakes and cobbler. Tomorrow, too, something lovely will happen, something worth celebrating, something that brightens our outlook.
There must be cracks in the tunnel... because most days we are able to find a few inches of light to stand in. Some days the light is very dim, and other days it's fleeting... but we catch it, and we soak it up. And it feels good.

JEB

Photo from Celia's Baptism,10.2007. Celia's middle name, Eleanor, means "light."