Catch up

(Random and unnecessary side note:  Nate insists that I pronounce ketchup "catch up."  In my book, either is better than saying "catsup.")

1. Gone are the days when I could spend hours curled up with a volume of Hugo, Balzac, or Dostoevsky.  I just don't have the time, energy, or attention span for some of my favorites.  I do have energy, if not time, for books that don't require as much attention: a bit of piffle, if you will.  So I was intrigued when I saw Gone Girl popping up in numerous book reviews.  As soon as I started reading, I was hooked.  It's just the right balance of intriguing, thought provoking, and fun.


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 2. Also gone is our low utility bill.  I used to keep the house at comfortable 63 degrees during the coldest months of the year.  Earlier this week when I walked into the house, damp from the pouring rain, I shivered as I read the thermostat: 65 degrees.  I promptly set the heat to 68 and basked in its warmth. 

3. Henry is a walking machine.  It's darling, really.  He is also kind of sort of talking.  This week he added "shhh" (shoe) and "ba" (ball) to his repertoire, and they aren't just random utterances  I don't want to be one of those "my child has 103 words now and those words are..." parents, but the first words certainly are exciting!

4. Fall is finally here.  Pumpkin everything is on my mind, though I have yet to pull out my measuring cups and bowls and turn on the oven to actually make something.  Maybe this weekend?

Comfort

At the end of my pregnancy, I decided that Henry should have a special blanket, one that we could introduce early on and that he would grow to love.  Silly me. 

This is Henry's crib. 

It looks like this every night when I put him to bed.  At the back, you see: an Issie Blanket, a soft Sophie, and a silky bear.  On the right, there is a cozy and soft organic blanket.  And on the left?  One of my old pajama shirts.  After all of my searching, all of the love I poured into my choices, Henry's comfort object is my old purple shirt.  I'm touched, really I am.  I like peeking in to see him sleeping with the shirt snuggled under his chin.  And yet, I still search for the "perfect" blanket: a blanket he'll carry with him on trips or use as a cape or a picnic blanket.  One of these days, perhaps I'll accept that this is his comfort and not mine...

Henry and the purple shirt 
He spent 15 minutes putting the shirt in the washer and taking it out again. 

Beans and Baby Steps

Thanks to my dearest friend in high school, I've always kept an eye on Martha Stewart.  She's an impressive lady.  And her one pot meals?  Amazing!  Nate and I made Black Beans and Sausage earlier this week and our bellies were full and happy.  On paper (or on screen, as the case may be), it looks good, though a bit blasé.  Mais non!  It was delicious!  I'm already dreaming about my next steaming, delicious bowl of this stuff.

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Now, on to more important things.

We were beginning to think that Henry might crawl forever.  I imagine that he has been thinking to himself, "I'm fast!  I'm too fast to bother with walking!"  It's true.  The child is fast.  He's practically graceful as he glides across the floor and makes his way up the stairs. 

And then one day last week, I picked him up from daycare and was startled when I heard the teacher say, "...and he took twelve steps today."  I was shocked (and still not sure if I believe that he took twelve steps).  One part is true: he is taking steps, baby steps though they may be.  And it's adorable.  He looks so elated and so startled when he takes a step.  Of course, that startled look in his eyes could be because a certain mother squeals every.single.time he shuffles his little feet.  Oops!

Standing tall and ready to play at school

Why, yes!

I've always been a bit of a weeper.  I thank my mother for that gift.  If I'm overwhelmingly happy, hello damp eyes!  If I'm too tired or just plain sad, there they are again.  If I'm angry, hurt, scared, worried, I've probably got tears in my eyes to prove it.  Commercials, greeting cards, books, newspaper and magazine articles, students doing well and students doing poorly, Henry taking a step or having the sniffles--any of these can be enough to get the waterworks started. 

So when I read (I can't stay up late enough to watch!) Michelle Obama's speech, yes, I cried.  I don't think it matters what one's political beliefs are, it was a moving speech and she is a genuine and awe-inspiring woman, wife and mother.  And she's beautiful, classy, and fashionable, too! 

She spoke with love: for her country, for her husband, for her children.  Her passionate words affirmed women, in particular our role as mothers.  Bravo and thank you, Mrs. Obama!   

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"Because in the end, more than anything else, that is the story of this country – the story of unwavering hope grounded in unyielding struggle.

And I say all of this tonight not just as First Lady...and not just as a wife.

You see, at the end of the day, my most important title is still "mom-in-chief."

My daughters are still the heart of my heart and the center of my world."

Michelle Obama

Little Gymnast

Henry is working on a new skill: headstands.  In his bed, on the floor--if he can try, he most certainly will. 
Olympics 2028?