Wednesday, August 29, 2012

On the Move

We have officially crossed over that imaginary line, the one that delineates being able to put Owen down and knowing he will be right where you left him versus putting him down and being amazed at how much he can do, find, get into in 2.75 seconds. His curiosity seems to exponentially expand each day, finding new ways to reach things, opening doors to see what’s behind them, seeing how fast he can crawl to Quincy’s water dish before being chased. And with this new movement has come new ways of expressing himself--squealing when he gets excited, making a face with an “o” on his lips when he is surprised or interested, giggling with delight when I chase behind him for the 11th time on the way to the water dish. 

He waves at everything--hello picture, hello tree, hello car. And while it looks like a wave, I think he’s just wanting to see, touch, explore whatever new thing has just caught his eye. He reaches his chubby little arm out, sweet palm open, then wiggles his fingers. And if he’s on the ground, he’s now able to, most of the time, get to things he’s interested in and goes to them as fast as his little legs and arms will carry him. No hesitation, no second guessing, no worries… just pure joy and curiosity in his world. 

Oh how it boggles my mind that he is 9 months old, and in a flash, I know he will be a year, then another. I can feel my heels digging into the ground a bit, wanting to hold on, grasp him tightly, and keep his soft, sweet smelling little body close to mine. If I’ve learned anything, and truly, I’ve learned everything this year, I know that things just keep getting better and better. So, I crawl along side him, learning from his fervent curiosity to see, to know, to grow in this world.

Monday, July 30, 2012


I really love exploring and trying new things. And really, the “new thing” doesn’t have to be anything major. A hop over to the coffee shop to check out their new dessert is an event in my book. And now, I have this sweet little companion who makes even daily adventures so much fun. A trip to the grocery store is so much better with him in the cart. Walks around the neighborhood take on added excitement as I narrate our walk to him. And let’s be honest, even vacuuming can be an adventure as I try to keep one eye on Owen, making sure he doesn’t get too tangled in the cord he’s loving to play with. 

We recently discovered this little farm that has fields and fields of zinnias. As you drive behind the mall (yes, the mall!), you wind along these sweet back roads, and suddenly there is a multi-color ocean of flowers alongside you. As we went home one day, we saw a little, handmade sign that said, “Pick your own zinnias”. Yes, please, don’t mind if I do. 

So, Owen and I had headed out to the farm. We got there smack in the middle of the day, and were sweating even before we walked to the fields. Not ideal for my fair skinned little adventurer, especially since he was happy to keep trying to take his hat off. We took the advice of a nice gentleman who recommended we try one of the far off fields for bigger blooms. Boy was he right--some zinnias as big as Owen’s face! Row upon row of these glowing, multi-colored beauties, just begging to be picked. 

I plopped Owen down in the grass and proceeded to take a few hundred pictures of him. Then, he chilled in a small zinnia shaded spot while I cut our bounty in flowers. I probably could have stayed there all day, just loading up the car with these happy little (and big) flowers. Instead, we came home with a bag full of blooms to spread around our house and share with friends, and definitely will be heading there again for another adventure soon.  

Monday, July 23, 2012


I can’t remember when I put the folded piece of paper in my wallet. I’d say probably four years ago if I had to guess. At the time I was looking for a lifeline, something to hold on to, to inspire me. I didn’t read it every day, sometimes forgot about it, but always read it just when I needed a reminder. I was in the midst of waiting, waiting for what or who, I wasn’t sure, but I certainly knew I was waiting for something. And I really did not want to be waiting.
Somehow, I find myself taking the soft, worn piece of paper out of my wallet today, greeting it like a friend, yet knowing that I will retire it to a drawer in my desk. My heart, my body, my mind, can vividly recall grasping it tightly in moments, tears spilling over, willing the words to be true and right. And I can see now that even then, I knew that what I was waiting for would work out perfectly. That everything, even in waiting and longing, was just fine. 
“Whatever the particulars, we should feel the ground beneath us and observe the space around us. And remember to breathe.*”  Now it seems that waiting is no longer waiting for something to happen or something in the future. It’s right now, feeling the floor beneath my feet and my breath moving in and out. It’s in this world that I live in now, where my sweet boy is sleeping, content in his crib, and I get to be his momma. It’s in this in between space, where we are savoring each and every moment, grateful for everything that brought us here, looking forward to the future, but mainly, wanting to live so fully right in this present.

*quote from Sharon Salzberg-original article, Are You Waiting, currently unavailable online.