And these are the days of our lives

The sand is falling too quickly in the hourglass! Julian seems like such a little boy now, interacting with us, doing his own baby talk, standing up more and more. Ian captured this great video (see the end of this entry) of him pulling up in his crib yesterday. I can't tell who's prouder, Julian or his parents (and grandparents!).

Speaking of, my dad just celebrated his birthday. His present will be coming next month when we go to Missouri for a visit, but for now, the inagural 5 Things birthday list. (p.s., if it's your birthday and I don't make a list for you, please don't be mad.

My mind is pretty full lately and we all know that pregnancy brain is slow to recover... )

1. I know it's bad for him, but I love the smell of my dad's pipe tobacco wafting out of the garage or blowing out the window on an early morning car ride.

2. I love my dad on the telephone. He knows exactly how long to visit and what to visit about.

3. I love that my dad is such a great example of a leader for everyone in our family, the Cooks, the Welches, the Gonzalezes, everyone. He is the definition of patriarch (in a good way, not the neofeminist, crazy way).

4. My dad has got some crazy zen going, even though I doubt he even realized it for a long time. He's always strived to keep a balance between work and play, duty to others and self-fulfillment. He's the wise man that everyone goes to for advice, for good reason.

5. I love how passionate he is, and how animated he becomes, when he starts talking about something he loves. Music, canoeing, books, Julian, adventures, the yard, Days of our Lives (shhhh, don't tell anyone), his job and (most importantly) my mom.

Happy birthday, Dad!

(see video with this post at http://www.addiebroyles.com/babyblogjunethroughseptember07.html)

Julian plays guitar with Dad

Baby's breath

I was putting Julian down for a nap just now and noticed his breath. These short little ‘haa has’ interrupted by little burbs or a wee gurgle. You could just imagine his tiny lungs filling up to their capacity and slowly pushing the air out through that tiny mouth. Over and over and over again. On their own. Independent of me. Inside their own unique, individual being.

Then we said goodnight to John, Paul, George, Ringo and another Paul. I laid him in the crib, and he grabbed Bear-Dog, his singing, colorful, light-flashing crib companion. “Whheeeeeee….I love you,” the strangely lifelike voice said. Julian chuckled and I rubbed him on the belly. Sweet dreams, Julian. “You’re my friend,” Bear-Dog exclaimed as I turned and quietly closed the door.

We love you and support you on this journey

Friend Sarah lent me a book by this Missouri woman called “Mutant Message Down Under.” It’s a true story by Marlo Morgan of 4-month walkabout in Australia with an Aboriginal tribe. It’s a nice, short little novel full of spiritual observations and truisms of this tribe, called Real People. Kindof a modernized version of The Alchemist or The Prophet. A couple of lines stood out.

“We love you and support you on this journey.” Those are the first words a newborn hears and the last a dying person hears. They welcome you and bid you farewell with this statement of upmost support and compassion. How beautiful is that? Ritualistic sayings that our society has are unique in their own right, I guess, but do they really hold such deep meaning? From marriage vows to children’s night prayers, we have these sayings that are embedded in our life cycles, but how many of those are an all-encompassing and genuine as this one?

It reminds me of when we were kids and said a prayer every night before we went to bed. “Now I lay me down to sleep; I pray to the Lord my soul to keep. Guide me by the starry night; wake by the morning light.” Every night. No fail. Mom, usually, would come in as we said this, usually as fast as we could, slurring the words and phrases together. We became more entranced with how the syllables sounded running into one another and doing it all in one breath than the words we were actually saying. As we got older and started actually exploring the idea of “spirituality,” I think Chelsea and I both tried hard to make the words mean something. And they probably did. What daily words will I share with Julian? A prayer? A rhyme? A statement of unyielding compassion from some Aborigines? We shall see.

Another, more complicated concept in this book was this. “There should be no suffering by any creature except what they accept for themselves.” The author went through some mind-boggling challenges on her journey, most of which she never dreamed she would be able to overcome. But the only way she was able to come out on top during these episodes was to connect with this suffering. It’s very Buddhistic, this idea of embracing suffering, and I quite agree with it. To suffer is to be tested. The mere taking of the test indicates personal growth. You have to accept the test when you’re ready for it. Or face being perpetually stuck in that dread of what is to come. Yuck.

As I was recalling another passage I’d read to a friend the other day. Some years are for questions; some years are for answers. I’ve been quite vocal about last year being one of the former. This year is definitely one of the latter. I think it’s my year in the Chinese astrological sign. Holla, all you pigs out there.

I said I’d write about Ian and I getting out own, baby-less outing to the Greenbelt last week, but alas, I have run out of time before ANOTHER trip to the Greenbelt this morning. This time, Blythe and Julian will be my adventure mates. Mmmm. What a wonderful feeling…