Separate

I guess it's obvious I like babies. Always have. I don't remember playing much with baby dolls, but from really early on I liked the real thing. I couldn't wait to be old enough to babysit, though, as is probably often the case, by the time I was really old enough I was consumed with other activities and didn't actually do much of it. It's interesting that with all the baby love I had, I never actually spent much time dreaming about having my own kids. I think I might have secretly suspected that maybe I wouldn't ever get my own. Which would explain why, when I'm driving along in the minivan, I will glance in the rearview mirror, see the carseats and little people and think, "Why, when did THAT happen?" and then feel this overwhelming sense of wonder and gratitude. While each new developmental stage has its own delights (and, naturally, challenges) I really love having a small baby. I love that Helena is so simple in her needs and that I know how to meet them. I love watching her face when I'm about to feed her and she knows what's coming. It is pure adoration. There is something awesome about it--in the true sense of the word. Terrifying and magnificent.

We spent five days at my parents' house last week and it was delightful as usual. As we were pulling out of their driveway to come back home, I noticed that Harper was crying quietly in her carseat. She is usually very obvious (read:LOUD) in her sadness and this was a new, private grief. She has been changing lately in so many ways, and I think it's just a gradual shift in her realization of her place in the world. Unfortunately it mostly seems to be making her feel sort of isolated and sullen and disgruntled. I confess that I am not very patient in handling these new, complicated emotions and the undesirable behaviors that seem to accompany them.

Both Harper and Hudson hum while they eat. It's very sweet because I don't think they even realize they are doing it. They are just content and fulfilled in their endeavor and it manifests in happy sounds. Harper, from a really early age, could sing melodies on key. Hudson sings with gusto and it is so flat that it sounds nothing like the actual tune he's attempting. He does seem to have really good rhythm. So he'll be the family percussionist if we do our own Jonas Brothers thing.

I started reading Atlas Shrugged a couple of weeks ago and am only on page 63. It has over 1,000 pages. The cover art should really portray Atlas with a copy of Atlas Shrugged on his shoulders.