Pumpkin Picker

It seems impossible that we would have a picture of you from Halloween last year. I mean, didn't you just get here? But the proof is in the picture--there you are laying fast asleep in the pumpkin patch at Glenn Memorial. I used to work that pumpkin patch when I was in youth group, basically I volunteered with the hope that some cute guys from Druid Hills would have the same shift and we could flirt. That never happened.

We went yesterday, just two days before the big event, so the pickins were a little slim but you still had a ball. You found the perfect pumpkin, I found a warty one I'm sure will make a good witch and we brought them home. Hopefully Nona and Grandaddy who are visiting right now will help us carve later this afternoon.

And even though a lot has changed in a year (i.e. you can run around from pumpkin to pumpkin vs. sleeping through the whole experience) some things remain the same. One, you look good in orange. Two, Halloween once again seems to have brought on a stuffy nose. You don't need the manufactured "green slime" you've got it for real! Three, I still think you're all treat and no trick.

Mugshot

I knew we shouldn't have let you on that reality TV show. Another child star gone bad.

Moonlit Reflection

Marian, it's been a long time since I've written about just how deeply crazy I am about you. I've covered some of the milestones, the miles traveled and some of your funny quirks of personality. Somehow, I've forgotten to slow down and just write about the wonder of belonging to you.

Last night I leaned over your crib (yep, that's right, you sleep in one of those now) and put my hand on your back and my head on the side of the bed and just fell into the rhythm of your breathing. The moon was full outside and it lit up the room enough for me to see you clearly as you twitched just a little bit under the lightness of my hand. I was overwhelmed by my love for you, my little baby, sleeping with one hand curled around Douglas the Dog and your legs all tucked underneath you.

It seems impossible that just over a year ago you were tiny enough for me to lift with one hand, that you couldn't talk or walk or bite. All this seems to be moving so fast and I'm well aware that in what will seem like a few months you'll be graduating from high school. That's why I'm definitely holding you back in kindergarten for three or four years.

If I could suspend time, I think I would be tempted to freeze it right now. I know I said similar things when you were four months, at six months, etc. I remember thinking that it just couldn't get any better than this--and then it did. You wake up every day and do something new, funny, smart (and often frustrating, like when you meticulously filled my tennis shoe to the brim with water from Peanut's bowl). Watching you grow is the most interesting thing I've ever witnessed and I anticipate the ways we'll both be challenged as you continue to question and learn. I love you in your active moments and I love you in the stillness of the night when the sound of your breathing and occasionally a little sleep talking sounds like a symphony. Being your mom is the sweetest job in the world.

San Francisco Images

Here you are clearly channeling Poppa Joe's tourist aesthetic

You're on a cliff and while it looks like the water is close enough to touch it's actually way, way, way down there.

At the Japanese Tea Garden in Golden Gate Park

This is your windblown look

With Antenna and the Golden Gate Bridge in the background.

The Double Crown: Sign of a Traveler

I think I've mentioned before that you have a double crown; instead of just one swirl of hair on the back of your scalp you have two. Someone told me many months ago this is the mark of a traveler. The thought of you leaving me one day to traipse across the globe (no doubt to dangerous places where there are lots of insect borne diseases) sends shivers down my spine. However, after your first plane ride (cross country), a week spent traveling by subway, boat, car and foot and rarely sleeping in the same room more than two nights in a row, I'm ready to admit there's something to that superstition.

We returned last night from 10 days in San Francisco, Marin, Napa and Sonoma. Your dad and I agree that this is perhaps the nicest vacation we've ever had, thanks in large part to the hospitality of your Aunt Anna (heretofore known as Antenna) and Parker (Mr. Austin). With the help of their car we were untethered and free to roam on our own schedule. We spent time lounging at Golden Gate park, sampled the delights at Marin County Farmers' Market, lived the life of the rich and famous in Napa pretending we were wine snobs, stood in awe at the height of the Redwoods in Muir Woods and celebrated Tatyana's wedding at Fort Mason this past Friday followed by an excursion to Angel Island. The weather was absurdly perfect, even when they said it would surely rain, it didn't.

You made friends at every turn and seemed to trust that every time we put you in the car seat you would end up in some magical and fun place. You loved hiking, you tolerated the winery stops and you nearly exploded every time your Poppa asked if you wanted to go swimming. You ate your first sushi and loved it and didn't protest a dinner of two cereal bars and oatmeal on the plane ride home yesterday. You spontaneously started clapping after the pilot put the plane down on the runway and you greeted Peanut with squealing and (mostly) gentle pats on the face when we returned home. Momma G got lots of kisses too.

There are lots of pictures to post and more stories to tell. I just wanted to get something up before too much time passed by. You've certainly lived up to the expectations of a double crown.