let's leave a light on for us

This afternoon at the park, a toddler inquisitively walked up to us, taking a moment to stare at Ethan who was contently swinging in his favorite swing. "Baby," the toddler pointed out, and his mother nodded. "Baby," she confirmed, stopping to coo and make a silly face at Ethan, who smiled at the welcomed attention. As they walked away, the toddler's mother began to recount stories of when he was a baby. It was a moment that soaked itself into my skin and made my heart stop with a somber realization: one day Ethan, too, would be older.

One day, we will no longer smile at the birds as they fly overhead while I push him just high enough on the swing. One day, he will beg me to let him spend the evening at his friend's house and I will inevitably sit up and watch the clock until he calls to tell me he's ready to come home. One day he will take his beloved stuffed animals and place them in a closet carefully enough so that they are comfortable but far enough away where no one will be able to see them. One day he will have his heart broken and I wonder if he will let me hold him close while he cries, or if he will express his sadness in a poem or song, or if he will be the one to break a heart. One day he will ask me to not do something -- talk, look in his very direction, breathe -- because it will embarrass him. One day he will ask me for the car keys and I won't be able to watch as he gets behind the wheel with his father in the passenger seat. One day he will fall in love. One day I will watch him marry and become a parent himself. And these days, all of them? They don't seem far enough away.

It makes all of these milestones a little more bittersweet. I've replaced my eagerness to watch him finally master crawling like he so badly wants with a hesitation, a silent plea for him to stay small just a little bit longer. It has heightened my appreciation for lazy afternoon naps that I let him take curled up on my chest instead of in his crib, Roseanne re-runs playing in the background while his hand in my hair convinces me to just close my eyes, too, and get some rest. On those nights where he has trouble sleeping and finds himself up more than he has slept, in my exhausted stupor I still long for those afternoons at the park, smiling as the birds fly overhead while we swing, swing, swing until it's begrudgingly time to get home before the mosquitos get us and say our goodnights for the evening.

no need for reminding, you're still all that matters to me

When Ethan is under the weather, he absolutely must keep one of his hands on me at all times. It was endearing at first, his palms resting slightly against my cheek or his fingers tugging ever so gently at a couple of stray strands of hair. There are times when it can be a tiny bit exasperating, like when I desperately need to go to the bathroom and somehow he knows, no matter how deeply he is sleeping, that I have left the bed. His little hand moves up and down on the pillow, panning the empty space in search of me. When it doesn’t find me, his eyes open and he reaches for me to come back. In the middle of the night, he reaches for me again with a searching palm until his fingers touch my cheek, my hair, my mouth, my nose, my neck. He holds on with all of the sleepy energy he can muster and drifts back to sleep.

I’ve realized that I’ve gotten less done this week than I anticipated. Being stuck in the house and basing our daily plans around Ethan’s breathing treatment schedule, I had assumed the silver lining to be that I could actually get laundry done. Or just maybe I could vacuum and mop our floors. Or – dream big! – I could dust the blinds in our living room. Instead, I watch as the pile of clothing needing to be put away grows into a mountain on our loveseat. The blinds are growing balls of dust big enough to rival the tumbleweeds of cat hair rolling down the hallway. Instead of conquering even the slightest bit of productivity, I’ve been spending my days in a stupor, holding onto a tiny little hand as he sleeps soundly on the pillow next to mine.


Today we went to the beach, a trip we attempted twice before the weather cooperated. There is no decongestant like the salt air and playing in the sand is something Ethan enjoys more than saline spray and nasal aspirators. Ethan laughed at the way his toes felt at the water’s edge when I help him stand right where the waves ended on the shore. He squealed in delight when a couple jogging by waved to him as they passed us. He marveled at the sight of the helicopters and the seagulls hovering in the sky. He dug his toes and fists into the sand and smiled as he wondered at the tiny flecks of sand on his flesh.


And through it all, a sandy little hand remained on me in some way; on my leg, my arm, my ankle, making sure I was still there and letting it be known that he needs me. As much as I may miss going to the bathroom uninterrupted or possessing the ability to eat lunch without fueling The Ultimate Infant Meltdown, and as much as I need him to get himself better and beat this lung thing once and for all, I will miss the days when just my touch is enough to calm and comfort him. Inevitably there will be a day when he doesn’t need to reach out and touch me or feel that I’m there in order for him to grow and take on the world. But I’ll try not to dwell on that now and just enjoy waking up ten thousand times in the night to the feel of tiny fingers running themselves up and down my cheek.

on a carousel

Sometime around noon, I decided the weather was way too beautiful outside to waste a day indoors. One of our local parks has a carousel and, for some reason, this park always slips to the back of my mind when I think of things to do with Ethan. He and I set off for the park and he was mesmerized from the instant he saw the carousel with it's flashing lights and cheerful music playing. We paid $5 and received 5 tokens which were good for fives rides on the carousel. I wasn't sure how he would react at first as I nervously sat down with him in one of the carts. I was too nervous to hold him on a horse due to my irrational fear the horse would go higher than I could reach and the carousel would prove to be a deathtrap like I always assumed it really was.

One of us loved the carousel. Hint: It wasn't me.

Aside from being plagued with generally unpleasant motion sickness, I can't stand rides. Something as seemingly tranquil as a carousel makes my teeth chatter with fear. I'm the obligatory bag holder or child watcher at theme parks or fairs while everyone else tries to convince me that the Dumbo ride serves a larger purpose than encouraging you to plummet 5,000 feet to your death.

Ethan, however, adored the ride. He was mesmerized by the flashing lights and sat in awe as he watched the horses in front of him go up and down. He whimpered when the first ride was over and, head spinning, I handed the attendant another token. Okay, we'd do this again. The spinning of the carousel started a cool breeze through our hair that felt nice on such a warm afternoon.

To cool off before heading home, we walked through the science exhibit. Ethan watched the bigger kids set off the rockets and drive the trains around the perimeter of the room. He was particularly interested in watching this little boy push a button that started a burst of air that made an air balloon rise up to the ceiling. The boy would push the button and Ethan's eyes would follow the air balloon up with this inquisitive look.

It was an awesome afternoon and one of those types of days that made you want to kick yourself for not thinking of it earlier. On our way home, we dropped in to visit with Grandma Edie and Aunt Megan so that Ethan could finish off his fun-filled day with loads of cuddles, snuggles and kisses.

and everyday is the start of something beautiful

I find myself exclaiming how much I can't wait for the days when we don't have to wait until five o'clock in the afternoon or later to take a trip to the park. Waiting desperately for the temperature to drop lower than 97 degrees gets a bit old when there are so many great things to explore outdoors. As September slowly fades into October, we're getting closer to the days when the morning is just as suitable outdoors time as the evening.

This late afternoon, Ethan and I met up with Grandma Edie and Aunt Megan at the park. We swung on the swings and Ethan explored the tot lot with his Aunt Megan. My mother told a little girl waiting for her turn in the play boat that it probably felt like just yesterday she was that little, pointing to Ethan. We rolled our eyes then and yet I must admit the speed at which time is passing by is really unbelievable. When I think about the fact that I have a nearly three month old little boy, I'm suddenly more hesitant about wishing away these long, hot, sticky summer days. I expand the length of our snuggle time knowing that all that is outdoors will wait for us for when the cooler days do come about.

But we're not in a rush. We're simply enjoying these moments.

luck & liberty

This morning we went to the always fun Liberty Park here in Parkland. I like this park because not only is it mostly covered to protect little bodies from roasting in the Florida sun but it also has a built-in splash park area as well as a tot lot reserved for the really little parkgoers. I'm sure I'll appreciate the tot lot portion even more once Ethan is old enough to play and isn't getting trampled by rambunctious elementary school-aged kids (you know, the brutes of the playground) but right now I appreciate it for providing a nice, covered area to sit and revel in some fresh air while Ethan enjoys his morning bottle. If you have an alarm clock in the form of a nearly two-month old, you also have the added luxury of arriving not only before the sun is fully awake but also before the park is overrun with kids and crowds. Just us and the peaceful sounds of birds chirping. There really isn't a better way to kick off a weekend.

I also thought it would be fun if we took Ethan on the swing in the tot lot which he enjoyed a lot more on the laps of his mommy and daddy. Ethan's first park trip was really yesterday when I decided to take him on a whim for some fresh air yesterday morning and wanted to see if he liked the park swings. It didn't go so well. He was not amused. Today went better. He may have even been amused, at least for a little while until the sun started shining through the clouds and we decided Florida was hot and we'd better get going.

We treated him to an extra long car ride as we took the trip up to Boca so I could pick up some more Gelmix and, on the way home, I ran into Starbucks. I ordered my usual venti iced quad nonfat caramel macchiato and the barista presented me with a grande. I felt silly speaking up to point out the error, especially as the kvetch in line in front of me reprimanded her for putting ice in his cup of water. "Who," he scoffed, "puts ice in ice water? Unbelievable!" I eyed the grande and weighed it against my exhaustion and decided to sweetly say something. I was apologizing on behalf of her mistakes to try to lessen the blow. I explained that I normally wouldn't say anything except I have a two-month old sitting in the car with his father and, well, he sure drives me to drink (caffeine, that is!). Yeah, that's my default approach: blaming the infant. He's adorable. No one could possibly hold any resentment towards me! She just smiled and sweetly told me she would make me a venti right this minute and I could take the grande with me, too. (See? The "I have a cute baby who has an aversion to sleeping" excuse always works.) "Today is your lucky day," she smiled.

Yes, yes it is. I do so feel like the luckiest person in the world, but that has little to do with free espresso drinks and more to do with my little (scapegoat of a) baby. The one who is adorably taking a nap on his daddy's chest and making the cutest little facial expressions in his sleep. The one who makes this silly little baby-talk noise when you ask him what cows say. The one who has seemingly forgotten of his love for the Ergo (or his mommy!) now that his daddy is home for the weekend. Did I mention that he's going to be two whole months old in just two more days? It's unbelievable. It really, really is.

On Thursday afternoon, I was dancing with him while he looked up at me from his place in the Ergo. "The Luckiest" by Ben Folds came on our Pandora station. "Little love," I said, "I wanted this to be mommy and daddy's wedding song but your daddy said it was too long!" He smiled. "Maybe this can be mommy and Ethan's song." He smiled again and let out a little giggle. Okay, little love. It is. I really am the luckiest.