Thinking of, and Thanking, Heaven

From where I stood at the kitchen sink earlier this evening, trying to rescue the basin from sippy cups and syringes, I watched Tucker playing the piano.  It brought to mind one of my favorite pianists, now sick.  Sadly, chances are he and Celia may arrive in heaven around the same time.  I washed plastic parts through teary eyes and hoped that, someday, she will have as much fun singing with him as I did.  I envisioned her standing behind him, belting out showtunes while he bangs on keys, the rest of heaven drawn to listen. 

And just a few minutes ago, I found myself in front of the washing machine, stain spray in hand, marveling at dirt on brand new pants.  Tucker donned his Easter outfit for pictures outside today, scooting across rocks and crawling through mulch and falling in the grass.  I've used plenty of Oxy Clean and Vivid and Spray & Wash over the past several years, but never have I needed to scrub grass stains.  I may be the only mother in the world who felt grateful for today's task, hesitant to rid the evidence that my child can run and play, that he can, thank heavens, get dirty.
JEB

Trite but True

Some people only dream of angels.  We're holding on to ours.

 JEB

Homing In

 

After a brief (and glorious) escape from reality, we're back and ready to focus on two very special little people again.
JEB

Baths and Books

and beets and balls and blocks and bananas and boats and bears.... and that's only the beginning!
(of adventures with Grandma Rosie and Grandpa Rod)

Budding

Darkness sinks slowly now, and tulips tilt their heads toward the sun.

It was this time of year when Celia's language began to blossom.  Her vocabulary grew while the forsythia burst into clouds of yellow.  She collected words and shared them like a bright bouquet, her voice as sweet as honeysuckle.

This spring Tucker talks.  He's been sprinkling "come" and "cup" and "dog" and "go" into conversations.  He disperses most words randomly though, and we smile when we catch one unfolding.   

All around us things are blooming, and we're grateful to participate in nature's renewal.
JEB

uʍop ǝpısdn

Tucker pauses, occasionally, to look at things from a different perspective.  He's wise, our littlest one.

Our lives haven't felt "right side up" for some time now.  Two words, new to us, left us feeling dizzy, and despite plenty of time to get accustomed, our reality still takes on the dimensions of a fun house mirror.

The upside though, and there must be one, is that along this slippery, crooked path there are lessons.  Although we would never volunteer to traverse this slope, we've learned that it's the descent that forces our eyes upward.

JEB

Tuck of the Irish

Or Welsh.  Or German.
Or whatever.
He is a pinch of trouble and a pot of smiles.
He is twenty five pounds of solid good fortune. 

JEB