A Few Words

The excuses are many for my time away, and though the glitches that kept me away for so long have not been resolved, I can not put it off any longer. Even as a reasonable adult, I've never had any problem having my way on my birthday, playing hooky regardless of the grown-up commitments that happen to inhabit my calendar on January 24. There aren't many opportunities for me to pull trump and do what I want, and guess what. Today is the day!

Selah Belah is crawling, cruising around furniture, eating soft table foods that can be crudely mashed between her four teeth (and the four nubs where teeth will poke through ANY MINUTE... they have been ruthless.) She is round and squishy and imminently squeezable, and this week finally, FINALLY said Mama. Selah will be one year old in less than a month, and I have to say it: How is that POSSIBLE?



Not long after Selah has her first birthday, Eden and Judah will celebrate theirs as well. (We are very mammalian over here and birth babies in the spring.) Eden will be five and Judah will be three. I'm still waiting for the dreaded threes to present in my sweet boy, but so far, we've just had to reign in his little boy rambunctiousness here and there. For the first time this Saturday, instead of growling like a polar bear cub when I asked him to say it, he said his own name. For a three-year-old kid with an age-appropriate vocabulary, you'd think he'd have said it by now, but I guess he's been holding out on us. His sweet little hoot-owl voice pronouncing the name we gave him three years ago is one of those sound bytes I'd love to keep in a little velvet pouch, to listen to when days are gray.




My little babies are getting bigger. How does this continue to be such a profound and surprising revelation? We're working on Kindergarten registration for Eden at two schools, as our first choice has a waiting list and enrolls based on a lottery. She still adores her three afternoons a week at Cherry Lane, and on our way there one snowy day last week, (we were running late; a mommy-daughter date had run a little long when a certain someone wanted to examine each and every caged critter at the pet store,) Eden asked me, "Why did you and Daddy make my name Eden?" She'd asked earlier in the day why we didn't choose to name HER Selah, and I thought about this exploration of identity as I answered her, telling her that, when we found out she was a little girl, our very favorite name in the whole world was Eden. She considered this, and after a moment replied, "I like the name "Presto."



A favorite illustration professor once advised that, upon leaving a project to come back to later, one should always stop working in the middle of a step. This way, when the artist comes back to the drawing table, she knows exactly what must be done, and the very act of working will build momentum and help her move toward more progress. And so, with many things unsaid, I'll sign off. This morning will be spent discussing the truths and comforts of Isaiah chapter 40 with a group of wonderful women, followed by a packed lunch of vegetable rolls with chopsticks and a Dr. Pepper. Thirty two is looking good!