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Archive for July, 2012

Jack at play

Like many, I am shocked and saddened by the shooting in Colorado on July 20 at a movie theater. I follow the story in bytes and headlines. I cannot bear to continue listening and reading. Fear and terror overcome me when I think of my innocent child growing up in a world with anger, hatred, and evil.

At 8 months, Jack has never even had a bruise. His newness is radiant ― smooth cheeks, downy hair, dimpled knees, tiny feet. His world is ABC blocks and teddy bears, “This Little Piggy” and “This Little Light of Mine”, finger puppets and board books.

Must he grow up and know of shootings, wars, bombings . . .? Will he be caught in a line of fire? Will tragedy explode at his feet?

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Michelangelo’s Pieta, St. Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City

10. Thank goodness for multiple Mass times. Feedings, diaper changes, meltdowns, teething, and naps laugh and cry in the face of routine.

9. There’s nothing like the radiant sun shining through a majestic stained glass window to cast golden highlights on the crown of my head, which has not seen salon highlights in months. But when I go to Mass, no one knows, and I lavish in the compliments about my hair color. Is it wrong to say thank you?

8. Forgiveness

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My husband and I planted a tulip tree when we found out we were expecting a baby. (Really, I picked out the tree and my husband shoveled the dirt; I loved being pregnant.) We chose a spot next to my flower garden, in a little patch of grass that would soon become a children’s garden.

Each morning I watered the tree and dreamed of our baby: boy or girl, brown hair or blond, blue eyes or brown? Whose nose, whose ears, whose lips, brow, and smile? How will our baby laugh? Will he or she cry often? I turned off the hose and inspected the buds, running my fingers along each little oval frame, happily anticipating new blooms. Whatever You will, Lord. Whatever You will.

Fall came, the leaves fell, and my delivery date was fast approaching. I looked out the back door at the bare tree and imagined holding our baby while watering full blooms come spring. (more…)

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It’s playtime. I spread out Jack’s bright play mat, which has over 75 activities according to the packaging advertising. I place Jack on the mat and strategically arrange his hanging toys. Googly-eyed Owl is positioned at 12 o’clock. Squeaky Squirrel is stationed the east. Two large board books stand sentinel to the north and south.

I analyze the situation. Black and white images support visual stimulation. A garrison of textures supports tactile learning. Toys are ready for deployment when Jack’s neurons start firing. I bring in the dog for back-up. Cowboy is a brown and white springer spaniel with a soft coat. Roger that.

Jack blinks at Owl. Five minutes pass. He is still blinking at Owl. I grow nervous. He might not have enough stimulation. I consider painting the white ceiling in case he looks away from Owl. I can’t have him stare at white space, and, heaven forbid, think of white space? He’ll never get into Harvard! He’ll never get a job! I’ve read all the baby books. Why is this mission failing?! (more…)

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