Felicity and the Age of Discovery

Almost six months has Felicity been a part of our everyday household. (Sure the nine months prior, she was present, but her needs manifested themselves in mommy eating extra ice cream). Somewhere around month four she became really curious about everything. Now when I hold her unless she is very sleepy, her arms and legs wiggle and she thrusts her little head out looking around at everything drinking in the books, the Christmas tree, the piano, the light, and the color contrasts. Then if she is let down, she grabs objects with her little hands and soon after grabbing them, they make there way to her mouth for a more thorough investigation.

Today it is raining. When I opened the shade Felicity couldn’t take her eyes off of the dripping world. Watching her watch the world I can't help but wonder what thoughts cross her brain? Does she know the difference between rain and sunshine? Does she recognize the window as the same window she looked out before?

The world of our little house is large to her and I think she finds it as wondrous as I find England or Italy or any other place I visited and explored. Her England is the kitchen and her view of the Thames is the raindrops outside our home. Her museum is the books on the shelf and her exotic foods are the taste of water or berry or ice from her teething ring.

We all must start in the world as explorers and the first age of life is an age of discovery. Yet, her exploration reminds me that we should never stop exploring. Eliot says it well, “We shall not cease from exploration, but the end of our exploring will be to arrive at the place we started and to know it for the first time." All ages of our lives need to be ages of discovery. Eventually exploring leads a person home to wonder at the raindrops falling outside the window.

Comments

The Adventure Begins Very Early on the Morning of July 15th

Note: In-N-Out is the first place I go when I arrive back in California. The California chain tastes like coming home. My day had been planned. I was going to walk with friends. Have coffee with my mom and a phone date in the evening. Followed by my husband asking, “what should we have for dinner.” And me responding “In-n-Out.” I’ll admit it I did exercise in hopes of expediting the labor process, but as I had been told, “babies will come when they will.” So I laid my plans: Plan A the aforementioned walk etc. and Plan B— Have a baby. When my mom arrived, full of more energy than I’m used to her having (a contrast with my labored lack of energy), it was apparent that Plan B was in effect. We were most definitely not going to coffee. I was going to have a baby. Labor… it’s not fun. Epidurals… they are a wonderful invention. It was late evening. I’d hoped they’d let me push on the 14 th . The history nerd in me was caught by the idea of having a baby on Bastille D...

The Bicycle Onsie is too Small!!

The fabric stretched around Felicity’s little feet and nestled her in a perfect fit. It was the first time I’d put Felicity in a onesie with feet. Up until then, she wore t-shirt onesies that snapped around her diaper. They were light and perfect for the hot summer days. But when nighttime came, Felicity liked to be cuddled and the footsie onsie was the perfect solution. Up until now, all Felicity’s clothes flopped and folded around Felicity’s tiny, baby body. She swam in the extra fabric. This onsie was snug and it fit like it was made for her. She’d wave her little legs and arms and the white fabric with little bicycles printed across its surface stretched with her. I loved putting her into it. Then something happened. It didn’t take long…maybe a couple of weeks. The bicycle onesie was washed following a diaper explosion and the cotton cloth shrunk. But just a little. Felicity’s cheeks and limbs became rounder and her eyes wider. She watched the ceiling fan and figured o...

Slaying Giants

Days like this begin when the night before I choose not to sleep, because I must read a few more lines from some news site or scroll one last time through the glowing screen of my iPhone instead of making good on my resolve to read quality literature and journal prior to bed. They continue when I wake up earlier than usual to teach, but finish teaching to realize that my children also went to bed later then they should. So now, everyone’s patience operates like feet hitting a wet spot on a wood floor. Bam. You loose traction. And first one then another is upset and done. That tantrum sparked another melt-down from someone else, and as I try to not join the melt-downs, and instead attempt to be the adult I hazard some words of explanation. “Your choices impact us all.” I tell one of them. My children’s choice do change the tenor of the room for good or for ill, but so do my choices. On days of this sort, where nothing is really wrong, other than a strong case of the grumpies...

MuellerMommyAdventures

Search This Blog