I am currently seated in an extra-long twin bed, and I have to admit I am revelling in its XL length for my 6 foot stature. I am surrounded by Ikea-style dorm furniture. An aggressive overhead light beams down on the desk, screaming for some ambient light to soften its blow. I am surrounded by a carpet I wouldn’t dare look at with a black light. Covered-in-lies acoustic music reminiscent of my collegiate days plays in the background.
In this space I am reminded of the hours and hours that I spent in a room such as this falling in love, dreaming, “watching” movies, and discovering the person who today is your daddy.
To think that such beauty could blossom under such generic circumstances is inspiring. And I am reminded of our humble roots, two college kids, two naive college kids, who thought that an afternoon spent tangled in flannel sheets was all that we needed in this world.
It is quiet. So eerily quiet. This room is absent of the beings that have come to define me. Last night I kept the bathroom fan on because I could not sleep in such silence. (Yes, these are highly “refined” college dormitory accommodations given the private bathrooms). I awoke at 5am, completely disoriented by the lack of wet puppy nose nudging me awake. Where was James’ muffled snore? Hanna’s epic thuds and clunks as she shifted in her crate? Ursa’s dramatic sighs in response to the shifts? And your baby babbles? Your sweet, incoherent ramblings and orations that stir me to consciousness each morning.
I miss you.
I’ve been away from you all of twenty-four hours and I miss you with all of my person. I text and email and call Daddy constantly to demand pictures, and audio recordings, and updates on you (For proof, see photo below that was emailed to me today and almost caused premature death by cute). Quite frankly, if I didn’t demand such things, I’d come home tomorrow to discover that an impostor had moved into our home. Your development is so rapid that you literally change by the hour. Just today, Daddy sent me a picture of you seated in a dining room chair, a dining room chair that you had scaled like Spider Man and ever-so-proudly perched atop.
Now that’s a trip to the hospital waiting to happen.
In just one month you have gone from an unsteady, tottering drunk, to a mischevious, hilarious, tasmanian devil. You tear around the house, carrying books, balloons, even a wire trash can in which you collect toys and other odds and ends you find lying around the house. You giggle with delight if we stomp our feet behind you and pretend to hunt you down. You throw yourself to the ground and tumble around like a baby steam roller. You proclaim “Awwwwwwwwww” as you bury your face into your puppies and then manically pat them before grabbing fistfuls of fur. Fortunately, we have two of the most accomodating canines on the planet who allow you to crawl all over them like jungle gyms. You have learned to throw the tennis ball for Ursa, although it goes all of 6 inches and she is quite confused by the lack of exercise. I believe that you must secretly be an aquatic creature as you would live in the bathtub or kiddie pool if we let you. We have a life jacket for when we swim in Lake Giles and you float and splash until you are literally blue in the lips, teeth chattering, and then protest when we pull you from that cool, liquidy embrace.
What I have loved most about this month is that you have become a total and complete wack-a-doodle-day. You TRULY take after your silly parents. You are a goof. A clown. You no longer passively entertain us with your play and developments, you now actively seek our attention and laughter. You dance, and clap, and show us that you’re “SOOOOOO BIG!” You know where your head is, and with some near blows to the eyeball, can point to your nose. You stick your sippy cup in your mouth, let go with your hands, shake your head like wet dog, and then look to us for response. The smile on your face as you do these things, the smile that grows when you see us return the joy and happiness, is nothing short of awesome. It is what I love the most. You are engaging us. You are now an active and conscious participant in our world, and it is the most fun, ever.
Also the most exhausting and nerve wracking, but I suppose that’s the trade off.
I guess, when it boils down to it, what Daddy and I love is the fact that you are a total nutball, and boy can we relate.
Happy 14 Months, Wack-a-Doodle-Day!