A Little Christmas Cheer

I'm listening to you ring bells and sing on the front porch in Ocean Springs. The Christmas tree here has already been undecorated but there's still lots of family around to make the house festive and busy (sometimes very busy!). While our original plan was to head back to Atlanta today our car is currently busted up at the shop (this makes it's third trip to the shop in two months) and your dad and I are planning how to spend our extra day . I'm thinking we'll head out in a few minutes to take you to the seashore or some other exotic locale (like Hudsons...very exotic).

Your first Christmas was really wonderful and as predicted, the best presents were the bows, paper and Lemur's wooden spoons. You've knocked around at your drum set and bounced in the Exersaucer but nothing beats those wooden spoons. I won't get into all the details but it appears that Santa did track your movements carefully and was able to deliver the goods in time for Christmas morning.

It's time to move on right now, I'll follow up with a fuller Christmas report soon.

Santa's Lap

A few have asked if we're going to see Santa in the mall this year. Because of our buy-nothing-new-year commitments, I'm able to spend this holiday season mall-free. So, we arranged to have Santa sit on your lap (kind of). You seem alternately over and underwhelmed by all the glitz of the holiday season.

Something to Chew On

It's almost Christmas and you couldn't care less. You do love the sparkling trees that have, inexplicably, popped up in every house you visit and sometimes appear smack dab in the middle of the street. A well decorated tree (read: lots of hand-blown glass ornaments and those expensive Radko glitter encrusted ones) will keep you occupied for a good twenty to thirty minutes. Next year, we'll have to erect a security fence around the tree but this year your immobile and I'm really thankful.

The big news this Christmas will not be the gifts (although your dad and I are making you one pretty awesome set of drums out of thrift store pots and pans which we may regret when the decibel level starts to rise) or the big guy in the red suit. This year it's all about Christmas dinner; finally you'll get to join in the feast! Christmas falls just four days shy of your 6 month birthday and by all accounts you're ready for some culinary exploration. And of course, as I've quickly learned in this journey of parenting, every milestone reached wrenches the heart just a little.

For the past five months and few odd weeks you've foraged for food in just one place. Sometimes you've stopped by Ma's House of Delectable Dishes for a quick snack, sometimes for a prolonged linen-napkin and candle-lit affair. Basically, it's been a table for two for as long as you've been alive and I'm a little jealous of our time together. Obviously, the tap will remain open for as long as we both find it convenient but the table settings are about to change.

I love food so much that sharing this experience with you is also a little exciting. We're planning to skip the jars of mish-mashed stuff and move straight to the real stuff--sweet potatoes, carrots, avocado (if you can beat me to it), squash (no worries there, it's all yours), pears, bananas, apples. The idea behind this baby-led-weaning, is that you experience food in it's original form and start to make decisions about how much you eat and how you eat it. You get to mix the flavors together (there's no pureed "mixed vegetable" involved) and I won't have to make the sound of a choo-choo train to get you to open up. Less stress for me and more fun for you--what's not to love?

As your dad and I were eating at the Dekalb Farmers' Market last night I watched kids at a table next to us lap up a plate full of Indian spiced vegetables, leafy spinach and fried okra. I hope you learn to love that kind of variety of texture and taste. Then I bit into a heart of palm and was briefly reminded of the way your breath smells--a smell I would love to make a scratch 'n sniff sticker of if I could figure out how to capture it. There's something so unbelievably pure about that smell and I'll sure miss it when it's replaced by carrots and pears. I guess I'll be buying lots of hearts of palm. But for now, I've got a table for two reserved in about thirty minutes at your favorite little diner and I hear the dishes are always served up with a smile.

Stimulating the Brain

The other night I made the comment to a friend that I was finding the stay-at-home gig intellectually stimulating. It hasn't been something I've thought about a lot and I haven't had any deep conversations about it with your dad or anyone else. But somehow, suprising even myself, I'm finding that your brain is challenging mine.

It's a beautiful thing to track the developments of a five month old. Sometimes it's hard to keep up; you're consistently going to sleep doing things you weren't doing when you woke up that same morning. For intsance, we went to the zoo a few days ago and it was a whole new experience. The first time we went, with Chad and Molly, you slept through 99% of it, waking for a quick peek at the pandas. This last time you saw everything. When the zebras moved across the yard, you followed them and you were delighted by the Meerkats tumbling over one another. I swear, you even chuckled watching the baby gorilla play in the leaves. Wherever I pointed, your gaze followed.

I don't think you're brain will ever be quite as active as it is in this first year or two and watching it whirr is quite an experience. Granted, we're not solving global warming or discussing the pitfalls of the protestant work ethic, but we've got plenty of time for that. You've mastered connecting the word "Peanut" with the furry thing that loves to lick your face. That's a good place to start.

Fancified for Five

Yesterday was your five month birthday and we marked the occasion by getting all dressed up in your new, hand smocked dress and heading to the mall for a photo shoot. This dress was commissioned by Lemur (your grandmother) and designed by your Pa and me. There are thirteen primroses on the dress --a very auspicious number promising good luck -- and beautiful details all over. The hem lets down which means you'll be wearing this dress for a good number of years.

You were stingy with the smiles yesterday which was okay with me even though I did bark like a dog and shake my hips like Elvis to prompt you to give us one of your gummy ones. You weren't buying.

So here are some of the highlights. You'll notice we don't own these. They're officially copyrighted by the Portrait People so we're just borrowing a few...

This Time of the Year

Fall is my favorite season. I love the bursts of color where there was only green before and the reds and yellows against a bright blue fall sky can bring tears to my eyes. It's nice to bring those light sweaters and zip-up fleeces from the back of the closet and the jeans I've been wearing all summer suddenly seem seasonably appropriate. When you throw in the high-holidays like Thanksgiving and my birthday (you wore your cupcake outfit for me this year, which I considered very thoughtful), pecan pie, apple cider and butternut squash the season is just bursting forth with goodness.

There's simply no better way to celebrate the season than a walk in the woods. On November 10th you logged your first hike on the Appalachian Trail. As a way of marking one year of missing Poppa Joe the family decided to hike up to one of his favorite overlooks on Blood Mountain and sprinkle some of his ashes. Fall was Poppa Joe's favorite time of the year too and he usually marked the season with a week long hike the third week of October somewhere in the Smoky Mountains or the A.T. It was fitting to spend the one year anniversary of his death in the mountains. You absolutely loved the hike, I know Poppa Joe was smiling to see your engaged, giggling, curious face watching every tree and rock go by.

Nothing says fall like Thanksgiving at the cabin. You spent your first Thanksgiving charming the Ramke clan with your gummy smile, solid sitting skills and your obsession with drinking water from a glass. When your dad opted for tent sleeping, you and I curled up on the fold-out bed and cuddled ourselves to sleep by a dying fire. You slept like a log and woke with a big smile on your face every day. Perhaps next time we'll join your Pa in the tent.

On Saturday the three of us went on another extended hike through the Cherohala Forrest. Typically, we had a hard time finding the trail head and then started out walking exactly the wrong direction but our mistake paid off. We saw three wild turkeys take flight. You seemed unmoved by the turkeys but registered your displeasure at the sound of your mom and dad gobbling at the birds as they flew away. It was the first time we'd really heard you cry in fear; granted, we were making an unholy racket. But the rest of the hike you spent in a state of pure delight. You gabbed almost the whole three hours and did a little grass pruning in one of the two balds we came across (pictured above).

I love this season and I love sharing it with you. I love the sound of the leaves underfoot when we take our daily walk. I love bundling you up against the cold and finding (at least most of the time) that your fingers and toes are still toasty warm when we get home. I love the red in your nose and the smell of chimney smoke in the air. And to think, next Thanksgiving, you'll actually get to try some of that turkey feast you were so intent on banging your fist into this year.

What's in a Name

Marian--
It's a gorgeous fall afternoon and we're sitting on the sidewalk at the top of the street stealing wireless internet from a manicure/pedicure shop. You've been a tad fussier than usual after your four month check-up yesterday (two shots that you handled like a pro) and the only thing that seems to make you feel better is being naked or going outside for a walk. Imagine the joys of walking naked...

At any rate, I had some business to attend to and since we don't have a wireless connection at home I had to go hunting for one. Thank goodness for unsecured networks. Of course, the whole world will be wired by the time you're ready to get online and this hunting for wireless will be as passe as gathering nuts and berries for supper. Of course, if it was up to your dad, we would be out gathering nuts and berries for supper.

I haven't picked up on your birth story again; I read what I have written the other day and it already seemed like something that happened years ago. I was relieved that I could mentally pick up where I left off with the story. There are no major chunks of memory missing so I'll get around to it again soon. But while I was doing that I realized that we'd never explained the etymology of your name.

You are Marian Katherine Ard Waller

Your birth certificate is currently sporting a hyphen between Ard and Waller. We are getting that fixed as Ard-Waller sounds a bit like HogWallow and we are not mean enough to wish that on you.

Marian was the name of my great, grand aunt, Marian Hine (that's your great-grandmother's aunt) that lived in Atlanta until I went to college and she went to live with relatives in Alabama. Almost every week of my growing-up years she took our family out to eat on Friday night, and then when Friday started to interfere with my evolving social life, we switched to post-church brunch on Sundays. I can still remember the smell of her--a combination of hair spray and Listerene. Aunt Manie, that was our name for her, had a spirit of generosity that I've never found matched in another person. After living through the death of her daughter (also Marian) and her husband and a terrible accident that left her son who was in medical school with the cognitive abilities of a young child, she found her way to joy and peace. Instead of harboring animosity at a world that had most certainly dealt her a raw hand, she only seemed to grow in her capacity to love.

You and I share her name, my parents named me Amy Marian, probably with the hope that I would resemble her in some way. In naming you Marian I hope to honor her and to challenge myself to raise you well. Calling you Marian is a reminder that living at peace in this world, with grace and hope and abundant love, is a choice we make daily. Aunt Manie made the choice to live with a joyful spirit when it would have been easy to go the other way. I hope we can both take a page from her book.

You are ready to walk now. We'll continue the story of your name another day.