Eye of the Storm

26 Weeks

Although it's difficult to tell at times, Greg and I are doing everything we can to make sure Ren has simplicity in his life. We keep him on an eat, sleep, play schedule a celebrity would envy. We follow Ren's cues as he grows and do everything we can to keep these three things consistent to his needs. We put him down when he rubs his eyes, give him food when he wakes, and let him explore what is within our power to help him stay curious. We keep him from TVs and monitors, feed him only breast milk, veggies, or fruit, bathe him every other day, ritualized his mornings, bedtimes, car rides. We try to give him quiet after the noise of music or talking. We want him to have  S  P  A  C  E  to grow in his body and his mind. Fill in the gaps on his own time, and naturally, in a calm environment, as close to nature as we (the former city-dwellers) are capable...

These things do not come to us easily. Mommy is still a drama club teenager in many ways and Daddy still reads comic books (when he can). But we are trying our best to maintain our best. And. We. Are. Tired.

And we are boring.

And we are annoying. And one-layered. And behind. And out of practice. And lonely. And clueless. And romantically deprived.

But sometimes, Ren tells us he appreciates our efforts. It makes the tough stuff seem like pennies for a mansion.

This week,
one quiet, dark, earthly early morning
I was dozing as I fed him.
We rocked back and forth.
Back and forth.
In the distance, a bird called out.
Called out. Called out.
Ren and I both opened our eyes.
He stopped sucking and smiled. I smiled back.
The bird called out. Called out. Called out.
Ren looked toward the window.
I carried him to peek at the outside.
Dawn.
The bird called out. Called out. Called out.
Ren and I spotted him on a distant branch.
The bird called out again. Called out. Called out.
Silence.
Ren looks up at me, blankly waiting...
And so I whistle the bird's tune.
And he chuckles. Heartily. I laugh back and we hug each other.
The rest of the morning felt more special in the sameness.

I forget that Ren is only six months old. He appears to possess such ancient wisdom that cuts through our chaos... and Christmas pajamas in April.