Skip to main content

Talk of Trains, Gorillas, and Other Things

May came bringing with it crawling, babbling, teaching, traveling, house buying, weddings, trains, and a trip to the zoo. Writing went by the wayside for a little while, but as I sit now in front of the open windows of our little back house, the writing frame of mind returns. Felicity sleeps and for a little while I can reflect.

Our first family vacation started being stuck in the airport since San Francisco was whipped with high winds temporarily grounding all incoming and out-going planes. When we finally boarded, Felicity found plane windows as fascinating as they are supposed to be. At take off, her whee of excitement and intake of breath filled the air—another confirmation that my genes run strong in her.

On the train, from San Francisco to Omaha she woke up in the middle of the night sleepily delighted to find her mommy was sharing the small sleeper compartment. She won’t remember it, but crossing the Rockies, she saw her first snowstorm. White flakes fell down in a white Christmas invoking torrent. 

In Omaha, Felicity found her own personal Mount Everest in the form of “The Steps.” Little baby bottom would disappear around the corner of the living room doorway in the house we were staying. One of us would hurry to assign ourselves the task of Felicity’s spotter and she would climb the stairs, babbling, focused, laughing, and occasionally turning back for approval from her captivated audience.

Her love for furry creatures continued as well. At the zoo, Felicity flapping her arms in joy at the large gorilla created another attraction for zoo goers to enjoy. “Baby seeing Gorilla.”


Somewhere, maybe in a McGuffey Reader, I read a poem calling baby king. They do manage to hold many people in their twenty-pound sway. 

I'm reminded again of the necessity to pray for wisdom when it comes to these little wanna-be sovereigns. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Two Little Girls and a Bench

  It was one of those moments before dinner in which I could have easily moved into the busy rush of dinner, clean-up, and bed-time, when I was stopped in my tracks. Isabelle, with her round face, and bright eyes, and fifteen month strength, clamored onto a bench and made it apparent to me that she wanted to jump from its one foot height with the help of my hand. I obliged and a game began, a game that was immediately joined by Emmaline, her three-year old sister, who does everything with full abandon. Soon, I found myself holding two little hands as two little girls jumped off a bench in unison. What joy this moment held for them. Again. Repeat. They would have jumped as long as I allowed. Each little face starlit with the joy of leaving the earth for one brief moment in the company of one’s sister and one’s mommy.  Tonight I read in Chesterton’s Orthodoxy that, “Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want t...

Girl on the Go

Who knew about strength training for little limbs? Prior to birthing my little girl, I did not know about baby exercises. But they exist! There is the bicycle for infant legs, which, you guessed it—Momma makes baby’s legs pedal in a bicycle motion. Then there is the YMCA. Yep. Sing the YMCA and make baby’s arms dance. All of these exercises were handily learned on the app for baby development. How else would millennials learn about baby growth if there weren’t an app? But the real baby workout is Tummy Time. Yes—Tummy Time—the time when baby is placed on tummy to begin the difficult task of holding up her neck.   Followed by the even more difficult task of head turning. The ultimate goal: Crawling. The half-way point to the ultimate goal: Flipping Over. Anxious to give Felicity every advantage, I dutifully spread a blanket for tummy time. At first her head bobbled and dipped to grab a mouthful of blanket. Then came the quizzical eyes when she managed to turn towards m...

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...