... and our boy is sitting up by himself on the floor. He is smiling back at me, happy to see me. I don't know when it happened: Roland's going from an expressionless infant to a curious little taste-tester, but with each day he wakes up a little bit more. He is rapidly becoming alive. It seems like yesterday he could barely move his arms, or control his noises; now he's rolling and inch-worming his way around the crib - but then again it also sort of seems like he's been this way forever, and will ever remain just how he is.
I blinked again, and his garbled mash of consonants has suddenly found some space for vowels. He knows his mommy and daddy. He doesn't only smile when we kiss his toes or bounce him up and down anymore. He smiles when he sees us come into the room. He calls for us with his arms when we come near. He knows his mommy and daddy. Well, they were right. I've never felt a love near what I feel for my family these days. The boy is wide-eyed and beginning to get a grip, and as I continue to go all in for what matters most, time has never been so funny.
He eats applesauce. Pear, too. We blend food in the Vitamix, & sometimes mix it with oatmeal (iron fortified). He loves his orange veggies: sweet potato, carrot, and butternut squash. Just like his dad. "Mmmmmmmm!"
Again I blinked (gotta stop doing that). He's standing up in his bassinet and his top-heaviness has never been more apparent. Time to move some things around. Now we've put his big boy crib in our bedroom so he doesn't have to sleep in a room alone, and he can't get himself up and out yet. Though that doesn't stop his trying. He's almost hopped right out of the stroller once or twice.
The hours have never been so short. I've never rushed harder home from work than I do now, knowing the loving responsibility that awaits. I find bits of time here and there to cherish my artistry rather than the long hours I used to see. I've started to habituate new and old methods of making and consuming art, so it may better fit into this new lifestyle; one that I retain control of, in spite of how it may feel sometimes.
I've been reading lots of parenting stories and articles, as well as slowly and steadily knocking off a novel here and there. (The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera was incredibly thought provoking.) It's easy to open and close a book at a moments notice. Crossword puzzles have come back into my daily routine for the same reason. When I can find myself a real stretch of time, however, (either the result of my early rising or Dayna's kindness, taking the boy outside) I will record music. I want to show my son: you envision something, and you go toward it, and through music I have seen this possibility manifest itself time and again. And so I leave here a link to a recording for your consumption, should you desire to follow it. I will forever try to snapshot beautifully intense moments and keep them in a capsule for years to come, as time only becomes more precious the faster we are hurled through it. Take note of the beauty exists in each moment, because it takes practice. To breathe, to remain calm. To appreciate life. Build your capsule. Fill it with love.