Blogging Baby

Where do they get this stuff?

A few nights ago- on the guest bed:
Emilio climbs up and lies down facing Matt, places his chin on this hands and says, “Let’s talk!”

Last night, laying on his changing table playing with a plastic beaded necklace.
Emilio places the necklace over his eyes and says, “Look Mama! I’m wearing glasses.” Then he removes it and says, “I took them off!”
Then he holds it up to my face, “Your turn!”

Yesterday morning, I’m in the shower.
Emilio opens the door and yells, “What are you doing Mama?”
“I’m taking a shower!”
“Oh, that’s ok.”
Door shuts.

Seriously. When did he become a 5 year old in a nearly 2.5 year olds body?!

On Eric, On Dad, on his Deathaversary

On a May 7th morning, not unlike this one, in 2006 we sat around my Dad’s disease ridden body and watched him take his last raspy breaths.  We cried.  We laughed.  We hugged.  We sobbed.  We thought about what was next.  We didn’t know.  

The next day we buried him on an even more beautiful day.  

And then we began mourning.  

And then we began living our lives again, carrying around a big hole. 

I got married, to the man my Father knew and loved.  To a man that reminds me of my Father in some ways.  

And then, I had a son.  Who is named for my Father.  

I don’t remember every piece of my Dad.  I’m sure I’ve forgotten some normal, average, growing up days with him.  Sometimes my Brother will mention a trait that I didn’t remember.  Sometimes my Mom will point out how my Dad loved multi-colored plantings and I will realize I never even knew that.  

But I remember his love.  I remember his humor.  I remember his passion for learning and music.  I remember how important family was to him.  I remember how much he loved me.  How proud he was of me.  

I realize that I can’t picture how he would grandfather Emilio because I never saw him with a Grandchild.  So I imagine.  

I imagine him throwing him in the air as he did with me.

I imagine him swimming with him in fresh NH lakes as he loved to do. 

I imagine him reading to him. 

I imagine him singing with him. Loud.  At the top his lungs. 

I imagine his smile.  His infectious grin as he watches Emilio grow.  

I imagine him shouting out “Milio!” as he enters a room like he did with me and my nickname, “Cub!”

And it hurts.  My heart hurts for all that he’s missing.  For all I’m missing. I carry that with me.  Everyday. 

But I see in my son the same loves.  Of people, of learning, of music, of life.  The pure love of life.

The love that allowed my Dad to tell us he had no regrets.  The love that filled and overflowed the Temple at his funeral.  The love that helped me and my Brother become the people we are.  The love that I so cherish(ed).  

And that lessens the hurt.  

And that’s the painful beauty of life.  Of loss.  

Five for Friday

Okay - I’ll bite. 

1. My pants are too tight.  Worst feeling in the world and it is all I can think about as I sit at my desk. <——— no productivity today

2. Solo yoga and then dinner with friends tonight, Adults only Bat Mitzvah party and hotel sleep over tomorrow night means 2 nights I don’t have to battle 2 year old energy in to sleep.  <————- I’ll miss him, but SCORE

3. Emilio wore my running visor on our walk last night.  I couldn’t handle the cuteness. <———— little kids in bigger clothes is too much.

4. Today was a day when every picture I got from Daycare was adorable. <——— cue working mama guilt

5. Does anyone else overshare with their daycare teachers at drop off?  Yeah.  That was me today.  <——- it makes me more relatable, right?

Just Keep Doing It

Hi. 

I’ve been kind of quiet over here, huh?  

Sometimes I want to write about how awesome my kid is and how amazed I am at him, daily.  Especially his verbal abilities and his memory.  But I don’t want to come off in a way that makes other Mamas feel less than.  

Then, I want to write about how challenging this journey can be sometimes. How I got angry when Emilio won’t take a nap or go to sleep at night.  But I know I’m not angry at him, I’m angry at myself.  Or just tired.  Usually just tired.  But I feel like I do plenty of that here.  

Or, I want to share the sweet moments I so cherish, like when he asks for me first thing in the morning and just cuddles in to my neck.  But does that make it seem like I’m trying to mask our experience as picture perfect?

And then I want to just tell you about our weekend.  But I don’t want to be boring.  

Then I think about what to share, what’s new or cool or interesting.  And I realize that while Emilio keeps changing, and our lives keep changing, there is more of the same.  There is a little less rapid change and growth and a little more just, “Wow” at being a parent to this kid.  

We were at a playground yesterday and Emilio was climbing up stairs meant for 5 year old kids (so there was a good bit of “throw my body half way up and just pull”) and doing the slide.  Again, and again, and again.  I didn’t have to help him.  I didn’t have to hold his hand.  He just kept doing it.  

And that’s parenting too, right?  You realize you get to places where you don’t have to hold anyone’s hand.  You may have to throw yourself up and hope you can pull the rest of the way.  But, you can go down the big slide.  So you just keep doing it.  Looking for that smiling face at the bottom.