1,000 words: joy

This kid gets the meaning of life.

you can't go home again

Apologies for the long hiatus. I have been attending to a certain special nephew:

He's precious, truly the sweetest little man I know, and I feel lucky to have had the chance to disconnect from my regular life for five days and just focus on his new life. To say that being around a baby fills you with a sense of wonder at the world doesn't even start to explain it. You really get to see things through their eyes, and because most every experience is a new one for them, you get to remember what that feels like. Suffice it to say that every cliche thing I could say right now is begging to be said, but I'll spare you.

Now I'm back in my small, blue house feeling many conflicting emotions about "being back." Going home gets increasingly more strange the older I get. Talk about seeing things with "new eyes"! I am not sure I've ever fully acknowledged how charming my hometown it is. Almost all the homes are beautiful brick structures.  Sturdy, classic architecture fills the town. Driving through town is almost serene, definitely relaxed and easy.  I could never see myself living there as an adult, but I am now struck by what a charmed childhood I led. Biking around the neighborhood with my little gang of other children; playing kick-the-can and hide-n-go-seek; catching fireflies in the summer with my bff down the block. I may have grown up in a suburb, but when I think back on my childhood I realize how much I was a "free-range kid." I had the freedom to explore and dream and flourish.

I think I really realized this even more when talking with Colten's mom (my future sister-in-law) about places they could raise Colten. My brother and Nicole don't want to stay in Arizona or have him go through school there, but they are having a difficult time deciding what place would have the community they desire. The community they desire, I realize, is a lot of what I experienced growing up.They want to be friends with their neighbors (like we did), and feel safe letting Colten take off on his bicycle down the block (like I did). They want good schools that they can walk to (yup, I did that too) and activities that are family-centered (I just think on all the days I spent at the park or the pool or the rink or the...) They want so many things that make the place you live your home and not just some place on a map that you belong to. I hope they can find a community and town like the one I grew up in. I hope it still exists.

So now I return to the home I've created, which is quite a different thing than the home you are born into. And, I admit, whenever I return I can't help but question if I've chosen well. I returned feeling a little lonely, aware my community has changed a lot in the last few years and that I was longing for something I wasn't finding on my return, but that wasn't so easy to put into simple terms.

It's something to think about. It's something perhaps to inspire a few goodbyes, a few hellos. In my way of speaking: there are more robes yet to be unearthed and, perhaps, replaced.

mr colten, mr carrot

How this blog has existed for over a week and I have yet to mention Colten is beyond me.

Colten

This year I became an Aunt. Insert all the cliche things about an instantaneous love deeper than any you could imagine.  God, I wasn't prepared for how true all those cliches would turn out to be.  I love being an Aunt, but hate being a long-distance Aunt. I met him for the first time when he was a month old.  Ack! According to his parents, so much had already changed in a month. I hated what I had missed and what I would inevitably miss, so I had to hop a plane again to see him at three months. And now I'm counting the weeks until I see him at seven months.

a first meeting, so little

I won't lie: I never thought I would be the type of Aunt (or person) who buys love, yet quickly I've become that person. I have erred on the side of spoiling him rotten. Maybe it's the distance. The easiest thing to shower him with from a distance is little outfits, favorite books, and stuffed creatures. (Something to remember me by??)

One baby company I have always loved is Under the Nile. I've gotten a lot of new babies in my life a onesie or an organic stuffed vegetable from this company. If you want to know why I like them and support them, read their mission statement. Or, on a more shallow and "awww-inducing" note, just check out any footie onesie on the site. Cute. I decided to keep up the tradition and get Colten an Under the Nile stuffed carrot toy. Quickly he was dubbed "Mr Carrot" and was never far. 

Whether in his chubby hands, pushed into his gummy mouth, or lying by his side at his six-month check-up, Mr Carrot was a constant companion.

Sadly, you may have noticed the use of past tense.  It seems Mr Carrot was also a bit too tempting for the dogs in the home. And over a week ago, he got destroyed by one of them.

My brother called me in a panic that "Mr Carrot was ripped apart! Can you find a new one?!" (Aside: the fact that my older brother makes calls of this nature now that he is a Dad brings me endless amounts of amusement. One day, when he is less exhausted from having a nearly-newborn, I will make fun of him as only a sibling can & should.)

For various reasons, I decided to go out on a limb and try asking Under the Nile directly if they could find it in their hearts to replace Mr Carrot. I wrote them a letter, but I honestly expected nothing. Why would they oblige a stranger who openly admitted a dog was the cause of the demise of Mr Carrot?

Well, I now have proof that my years of supporting this company have not been for naught. They are good to their customers and good to the beloved nephews of the world. To my great joy happiness profound surprise elation, I found this in my mailbox five days after writing the letter: