Perspective

Once upon a time at St. Francis High School, a teacher told a class full of apathetic Juniors that they should be reading the newspaper every night, that they should be watching the news. "You should," he said, "concern yourselves with the world beyond your own." Looking back, I appreciate his point, but at the time, I did not. The thought of reading the news section of the newspaper sounded spectacularly boring. I’ve come full circle since then. I don’t get the newspaper (It’s sad to say, but who has time to read the newspaper every day?), but I do try to listen to a run-down of the news every morning and afternoon. Usually it’s frustrating and depressing, once in a while it’s infuriating, and once in a great while, it gives me hope. I would like Violet to grow up with a sense of curiosity about the world beyond what she knows and a sense of responsibility about staying informed, but more than that, I want her to have a stronger sense of something I often forget about – perspective. I came across a quote from Ben Hecht, a screenwriter from the 1930s and 40s, that sums it up nicely:

Trying to determine what is going on in the world by reading newspapers is like trying to tell the time by watching the second hand.

329 days old

I know it's nothing compared to what's ahead, but...

Most parents have more than one bottle in rotation, but Violet uses hers so infrequently that it’s always washed and ready when we need it.  Today, however, my wife dug out the box of extra bottles and feeding accessories, hoping to find a replacement. Violet has relentlessly chewed the nipple of her bottle, enlarging the hole to the point where the nipple is now more of a straw. One of the bottles in storage took me by surprise. I hadn’t seen it since Violet was only a month or two old. It has a nipple within a nipple, a design intended to reduce the amount of air a baby takes in when feeding. We’d had some trouble with her taking her original bottle, and we’d bought the fancy one, hoping she would like it better. I can’t remember her reaction, but the fact that we relegated it to the storage bin probably means that she didn’t like it. But what struck me today was how unfamiliar it looked, as if I hadn’t seen it in years. Violet (and everything that goes along with her) still feels like a new addition to our lives, and although, in the grand scheme of things, she is just that, the fact remains that she’s nearly a year old. My wife and I have talked about it many times. We, along with family and friends, ooh and ahh and express disbelief over the fact; how fast the time has gone by, but it didn’t punch me in the ear until today. When I turned that bottle over in my hand, I remembered last winter, offering it to Violet in the middle of the night, swaying back and forth in the rocking chair. That was back when middle-of-the-night feedings were just part of the routine and back then, it felt like they always would be. Violet was a different baby. We were different people. It seems like so long ago.

328 days old

A Request

OK - everyone out there, reassure Linda and me. Tell us that we needn't be concerned about the gap between Violet's two front teeth.

327 days old

Dinner Music

Last night, as I fed Violet her dinner, Linda made ours and the rain fell outside. A song played in the background, the words so appropriate, I had to put them down here as a snapshot of one fall evening. I know they weren’t composed with familial love in mind, but for one night and the memory of it, that’s how I choose to hear it:

The stream can't contain such the withering rain,
And from the pasture the fence it is leaning away
The clouds crack and growl
Like some great cat on the prowl
Crying out, "I am, I am" over and over again

The days grow short
As the nights grow long
The kettle sings it's tortured song
A many petalled kiss I place upon her brow,
Oh, my lady, lady I am loving you now

And though all these things will change,
The memories will remain
As green to gold, and gold to brown
The leaves will fall to feed the ground
And in their falling, make no sound
Oh my lady, lady I am loving you now

From Ray LaMontagne’s Winter Birds

326 days old

Her Expression Tells the Temperature

We had swimming lessons last night. The person who sets the thermostat on the pool? I think they might be a sadist.

325 days old

The Enchanted Forest

Sunday night was Violet's first trip to Beaver Meadow's annual Enchanted Forest. She liked my furry costume. Next year, I'm hoping to work her into the act. I just need to find a toddler-sized beaver costume.

324 days old

Strange Parents in a Strange Land

There are places in the world we would never go if not for Violet. Not because we have anything against them, but because in some places, it’s odd to see adults without children. Family restrooms are one such place. Pumpkinville is another.

323 days old

Easy Like a Christmas Morning

We hoped to sleep in this morning. Sometimes, Violet is willing to let us. It’s usually on the days we can’t sleep in, when work or some other obligation requires an early rising, but we appreciate her attempts to give us the opportunity. Today was not one of those days. At 7 AM, Violet felt it was time to start the day. She stood in her crib, a few feet away from our bed, hands clutching the rail. She cried her “good morning” cry in our direction – the tenth month old version of a subtle hint. The moan that came from Linda’s side of the bed told me she shared my frustration. I hauled myself out of bed and plucked Violet from the crib, holding her close. By now Linda and I both know, no matter how disappointing it is to see our chance to sleep in evaporate with a single cry, the feeling of disappointment will dissipate just as quickly; as soon as Violet is close and smiles, excited to be with us. As I brought Violet into bed, Linda said, “It’s like everyday is Christmas morning. You have to get up early, but you don’t care because it’s Christmas.”

322 days old