firsts

When asked what he would like to do on Father's Day at church this morning, Mike said: Eat a hoagie. In bed. 

Lordy, does that ever sound good. Instead he got a nap on the couch, and a bird mobile that Frances, Gabriel and I made. (Inspiration found here, via the Crafty Crow, a crafting treasure trove that I like to peek at every once in awhile).

It was really fun to make with the kids, who both love birds and found punching heavy tin foil with a push pin over and over immensely satisfying.

We are five distinct moving parts now, but I am ever more aware of how we operate as a system. One part goes awry, and the effects inevitably ripple outward, eventually moving through every last toenail in one way or another. In the past two days, so many firsts have visited us: first real laugh and first roll over for Beatrice (the roll was reported by Gabriel, who has become a less reliable reporter of late, but I believe him). First real bike ride for me and Frances. (Almost two years after having originally learned, she has realized that biking is not an awful scary life-threatening activity after all. She's been biking nonstop. It was downright joyful to ride together, just before bedtime.) The next day Frances and Gabriel (on the Trail-a-bike) and I rode to the library together and proudly told the librarian all about it. Gabriel lost a tooth today at a birthday party. It was his second tooth, but it's still a major event for me.

All fantastic developments, to be sure. But Beatrice's new sociability and mobility seem tied to a sudden increase in night wakings. Every time I respond and go into her room I find her crammed up in a corner, her swaddling blanket tangled around her waist, frantic to nurse. As a result I'm more tired and vulnerable, admittedly discouraged, and probably less available to those other moving parts I mentioned. Frances's newfound passion for bike-riding has both inspired and frustrated Gabriel. He tries to keep up, and can't. It's all flowing, all the time: knots being untied, new knots tangling in the process. Summertime has allowed me the space to sit back and marvel at how deeply and intimately we are connected, how mysteriously a family operates. We grow in response to one another.

It's marvelous. And exhausting. Hoagies in bed, anyone?