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Archive for October, 2011

Belated, but…

Happy national coming out day! If you’re reading this, and are contemplating whether it is worth the risk to tell the truth of your life, let me settle it for you: it’s worth it. You’re worth it. And as Christians everywhere are so fond of saying: the truth will set you free.

If I had not told the truth, out loud, to my dear Marlei so many years ago, my children would not exist. How could I have known what joy lay in store? I couldn’t fathom it then. I only knew I could not stay silent. I opened my mouth, and here I am, so very alive and in Love.

Be encouraged. Tell the truth.

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sunday meditation.

it’s a rare rainy day in this relentless drought, and i’m under the weather. i took ny.quil last night, and h endured an up-every-hour affair with two needy children, as i, the mouth breather, drooled on my pillow for eight solid hours.

i finally pulled an inconsolable jude into bed with me at 7 am, and i slept another two hours as she cuddled near me, watching the rain from my window, while zig and h began their morning together downstairs.

jude finally convinced me to drag my sniffly ass out of bed at 9, and since, we’ve slipped into a lazy, sunday, cyclical rhythm as a family. h has gone to bed for some uninterrupted sleep. the children are napping in shifts: ziggy then jude then ziggy again.

and so i’ve gotten to focus on my babies one at a time. jude and i watched the entire first superman movie together (superman is kind of her thing right now). we snuggled on the couch and had intermittent existential conversations: baby superman would grow up to become superman, but would he become a baby again? superman’s sun would go “boom!” and become a supernova, but then it would become a big, new sun again, right? right? right, mommy? already, she forces my hand to discuss resurrection and reincarnation, and we wonder together and shrug. then, she says, “look! superman is SO. STRONG. he’s AMAZING.” conversation over. whew.

i plopped jude into bed with h for an afternoon nap, and zig and i played cars, bounced balls, perused the illustrations in the frog and toad treasury, watched the migrating redwing blackbirds at the feeder, and rolled around on the floor together. and then he asked to nurse and nap…which brings me to now.

now.

now, the whole house is asleep but me.

now, i sit at my dining room table, alone with a cup of a.veda tea. i’ve opened one window to let in the first fresh fall air of the year. outside, it’s nothing but loud birdsongs of relief, and a little drizzle. a stick of aloeswood incense burns, and i’m listening to my favorite pandora station: miles davis, mixed with some billie holiday and sufjan stevens. try it. you’ll like it.

oh my soul, how full you are.
there is nothing more i need than this.

happy sunday, my friends.

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one.

oh my son,
you are one.

at a year old, you are so much yourself. i fully expect you to be in twenty years who you are this morning: a boy brave, stubborn, cuddly, hilarious, a bit reckless, but mostly cautious, and deeply affected by music.

and zig, you are so independent. i readily admit my surprise at your tendency to crawl into the playroom to play alone every morning, just after breakfast. because, what one-year-old likes to be alone? but. when i peek in at you, there you sit, surrounded by books or cars or blocks, contentedly absorbed in your own little world. and then, after awhile, you come to me, book or car or block in hand, and invite me to join you.

…you don’t walk yet, but you are a fast, multitasking crawler. you can walk, two or three steps at a time; you’re just not convinced that it’s a viable mode of transport. take your time, son. you’ve got the rest of your life to be a biped. it’s totally overrated anyway.

music. you love yourself some music. all of those blipping, bleeping, tinkling musical toys of awfulness are less annoying because of your sincere enthusiasm for them. every day, you rhythmically move your arms from side to side as a computerized book plays “three little kittens” or “BINGO”, and you beam with the joy of a boy who’s found God. and your favorite song? “row, row, row your boat”. already, you sing it. already, you try to find the melody. you’re a bit atonal still, but earnest. mow mow mow, you sing. eeam eeam eeam. and that beaming smile again.

you are all kinds of communicative. your sign for “more” is exuberant clapping. you love to watch the birds at the feeder outside the playroom window. and you use both hands to sign bird bird bird. you sign “please” and “dog”, though no one taught you how. your favorite thing in the world is cats, and you yell CAAAAT when you see one, with a deep, guttural growl, kind of like a cackle.

you love books. you bring them, one in each hand, to your mamas all day to read. you feverishly turn the pages as we attempt to read every page, and then you sign more more more. book! you yell. more more more. when i ask you, where is elmo? the kitty? the bunny? etc, you purposely point to the wrong thing, and giggle uncontrollably as i say no! that’s not it! you’re a funny guy.

you understand everything we say, and follow detailed directions in such a way that we’re pretty sure you’re a genius. for example, say a few pairs of shoes belonging to different people are strewn about the living room. i’ll say, “ziggy, will you please put jude’s shoes away?” you will scan all of the shoes, grab jude’s purple crocs, and lug them back to their rightful place, in another room altogether. that’s pretty advanced stuff, son. i don’t know many teenagers who could pull off such a feat.

you are utterly obsessed with your sister, so much so that we have to work hard to keep you out of her lap all day. already, you are playing the pesky little brother role with aplomb. your poor sister can’t even eat in peace if you are on the loose. she’ll be sitting at the table, minding her own business while eating a pb&j, and suddenly you’re climbing her leg, planting enthusiastic, drooly kisses anywhere you can. noooo ziggy, she whines. leave me alone! i all done with kisses! i need some space! and when we remove you from her person, you arch your back and yell loudly in protest. so it goes, all day, every day.

(i promise that your sister does love you anyway.)

i am proud to say that you and i made it a year with breastfeeding, zigs. i wasn’t sure we would. since my job now demands more time away from home, i usually leave before you’re awake in the morning. that means i only nurse you at bedtime, and you tend to fall asleep immediately. i don’t pump anymore. there’s not much happening in the way of milk production. but the girls must not be completely empty, because you still ask for milk (emphatically, with the lifting up of my shirt and everything), and you still snuggle in for snacks. thank you for that, my lovely son. those moments redeem the hours away from you. separation melts away by osmosis.

in the event that you are curious about your stats someday, here you go:

21 september 2010-
8lb 4oz
20 3/4″ long
14 1/4″ head

23 september 2011-
24lb 8oz
31 1/2″ long
18 3/4″ head

and that head of yours? the one with the curly, unruly locks of reddish blond hair? it still smells like honey.

i love you so, mister isaac silas.

mommy

first birthday, first cupcake:

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hi all,

here comes my second ever password-protected post. leave a comment here if you’d like that password. thanks.

ETA: don’t worry, nothing is wrong. there is no password-protected drama. promise.

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