avablog

I like the way you can see the idea of a smile flash across his eyes before he actually smiles. It’s like when you’re having a staring contest with someone, and you can see in their eyes that they’re going to break before their mouth ever moves.

Hiya, born baby.

You’re an awfully cute little fella. Sometimes I’m surprised by how adorable you are, though I shouldn’t be. First of all, you’re my son, so I’m supposed to love you like crazy and so forth. Everything you do is cute, and you’re amazing even when you’re crying. Etc., etc., blah, blah. But, really, the main reason you and your sis are so physically attractive is because of your genetic heritage. And I don’t mean from me. Take a gander:

Now, looks ain’t everything, Emmett. But holy smokes, they don’t hurt! I’m OK with you and Ava walking around with your mom’s good looks, so long as you get some height from me. I mean, how are you supposed to look down on people if you’re barely five feet tall?

Leah has been agitating the last couple weeks for a picture of our family, and the recent visit to Decorah gave her the chance she’d been waiting for. As usual, we imposed on Uncle Kevin to get behind the lens and work his magic. For those not in the know, it’s not easy getting a six-week-old and a 4.75-year-old to smile at the same time for a photo, especially when the former has only been smiling for a week or so. He needs more practice! Anyway, without further ado….

FTR: I never saw myself here. I never pictured this being me. And it’s all that much sweeter for its unexpectedness.

Here’s the boy, snoozing away on mama’s shoulder at Magpie Coffee Shop in Decorah this weekend. He’d just eaten, which accounts for all the snooziness.

Taken at the fish hatchery in Decorah over the weekend. Ava put this little bouquet together herself.

I’m finding I’ve missed this process of documenting all the little milestones in our infant’s life.

Em appears to be developing right in line with expectations. His latest things are spitting up and cooing, one of which is much, much cuter than the other.
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I miss all the good stuff. This morning, Ava came into our room when she got up so she could get some snuggles with Baby Brudder (she HAS to learn to say her th sounds someday). I got up to use the restroom, and while I was down the hall, I could hear L’s breathless laughter burst from our room. I missed the cleanup by the time I returned, but I was told that Ava got caught mid-kiss by a big ol’ stream of spitup from Emmett. The slightly lumpy liquid created a halo around her mouth, and Ava froze in shock until L was able to get to her with a cloth.
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Helmet optional.

“Three windbells cool the humid summertime;

Clashing their shrilly sweet metallic chime.”

—A Chime of Windbells

This season always reminds me of falling in love with my husband. When we were first dating, we would take his dog, Maggie, for long walks through the dark, tree-lined streets–and down to the river–on warm summer nights. The humid air, the lightning bugs, the tinkling of people’s wind chimes filled me with the lightest feelings of joy and possibility. Later, lying in bed and listening to the night sounds through his open window, I couldn’t imagine ever wanting to be anywhere else but right there with him.

Now here we are, all these years later, with a house and two children. We were talking last night about whether people, after years of marriage, can still feel the way they did when they first fell in love. I was thinking it would be so nice if they could hold on to some of that passion and possibility forever; I think Mark was making the case that this wasn’t very realistic, given that people evolve throughout time. I guess he’s right that so many things can clutter the years of a marriage and make it more complicated than it ever was in the beginning. People lose sight of each other sometimes.

Maybe it’s time to hang some wind chimes.

I chatted briefly the other day at school pickup with the mother of one of Ava’s classmates. Turns out she had a friend who reads this blog (or maybe the other one). The mother had been describing Leah to her friend when she mentioned Ava’s name, and the acquaintance suddenly realized exactly who was being discussed. It’s a small world.
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Everyone was in a good mood at the impromptu 4th of July cookout hosted by our neighbors and friends Sarah, Mac, and Andy. Even Emmett. Here he is, smiling, much to the consternation of his mother. She’s not bitter.

It’s been fun lately to watch Ava become more interested in physical pursuits. I haven’t pushed her in this direction at all, mainly because I wanted to see what kind of natural affinity she’d have for things like throwing balls and riding bikes and scooters.
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Emmett, your mom is awfully worried lately about your gassy tummy. It’s true that you spend a fair amount of time these days fussing about when you’re not eating or sleeping. I’m not convinced it’s gas. Which isn’t to say you don’t have gas. Oh, you do, little brudder. You do. I just wonder if your grumpy moods are the result of something else. You can’t talk, so we don’t know.
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Leah, Em, and I had a nice moment on the porch yesterday, during which he smiled at me — on demand — no fewer than three times in succession. The importance of this event was that Leah was sitting directly across from Em and me, so she witnessed the whole thing. She dismissed the first smile as simply gas, but the next two were clearly loving, doting smiles directed squarely at his pop. It was more than a little thrilling. Consider this the “first smile” entry in Em’s baby book.
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What a nice weekend. Leah and Em had a baby “sprinkle” to attend on Sunday, which meant Leah had to have her hair done on Saturday. So Ava, Emmett, and I toodled around downtown for a spell while Buzz did their worst with my wife’s locks.
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I’ve clearly forgotten what it’s like to have an infant in the house. I feel kind of stupid for being surprised by the things Emmett does that are the same things Ava did when she was his age. In my defense, I guess it has been almost five years. Maybe when it seemed like we’d never have another baby, I started to push those memories out of my mind (and, heck, I knew I had the blog to fall back on, after all). We spend a lot of time recently staring into the boy’s eyes, waiting for some flash of recognition, hopeful that it will come soon.

So this morning I was — again — transporting the boy to his changing table to dispatch a soiled diaper. On the way back out of his room, I looked down at him in my arms and was talking to him in a funny voice (not dissimilar from my normal speaking voice, alas) about the birds on his walls when his eyes brightened and he smiled at me. Swear. Is it too soon? It’s OK; Leah didn’t believe me either. So I coaxed another little grin out of him while she stood witness. It was really cool!
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I have a general sense that Ava’s getting used to having Emmett around. A small poster, created by her, appeared on her easel the other day that reads “I LOVE EMMETT.” She’s also having an easier time going places without us, such as school, which makes things easier.
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I woke up early this morning to take Emmett for a diaper change. As I walked into his room, I glanced down at him. In the heavy gray pre-dawn light, I could’ve sworn I was carrying a snuggly, wiggly little Michael Chiklis in my arms.

This day can only improve.