On his own, but not alone

Here's London in a dogpile. Above his head is Sadie Dog, a birthday present from Lauren and Sydney Zephro. Sadie Dog is named for Sarah Ginn's dog, Sadie. Next to him is Elmo Dog. Between Elmo Dog and Sadie Dog is Baby Dinosaur Dog. And in London's arms is Sock Dog. Sock Dog was invented when we were traveling and didn't have any of his regular dogs for him to snuggle to sleep. Vicki's idea, and a good one. He likes Sock Dog so much that he sleeps with it even when he's back in the pound, as he is here. He's tucked up against the don't-fall-out-of-bed pillow; his own pillow at the top of the bed, unused as usual, is covered with his Fire Truck Binkit, one of the survivors of his babyhood.

When I see him curled up like this, it reminds me of the first time I saw him at all, curled up the same way on the ultrasound screen, small enough to fit in the palm of my hand. And it reminds me of how he would curl up when he was brand new, and I could put the crown of his head against my bicep and still have to curl my hand up to cradle his bum and little froggy legs.

We watch the eclipse

Once when I was a kid Mom and Dad and my brothers and I sat out in lawn chairs until midnight or maybe later to watch a total eclipse of the moon. We only did it once, but it's always stuck in my mind as Reason #4,769,341 why My Parents Are Awesome (that's actually a pretty high rank, considering how many museums, zoos, turtles, cats, chickens, rockets, hikes, skinned knees, dirt clod fights, movies, puzzles, trips to the bookstore, vacations, homeworks, fairs, kolaches, and giant pans of lasagna went into our upbringing).

The night of February 20 there was a total eclipse of the moon. It started at 5:45 and ended a little after 9:00. I watched it from the back porch with London, and Vicki came out a few times to look, too. The "baby telescope" was a Valentine's present from Vicki. London loves it and is very possessive about it, but we talked about it and decided to share.


Eclipses happen when the Earth, moon, and sun all line up. Like we've been off doing our own thing for a while and then everything comes back into alignment, and the same thing happens that happened so long before, whether that's the eclipse itself, or a family outside watching it. But it's not the same eclipse. And it's not the same family.

It is weird to play the same games with London that I played with Ryan when he was this age. It is even weirder to share with London the same experiences that my parents shared with me. The 'circle of life' is just an overused cliche when you're young. Then you start coming back to the places you haven't been for a lifetime, and you realize that you're on that circle, going around like everyone else. Everyone who lives long enough experiences it, and probably no two in quite the same way.


I'll tell you what it makes me feel. Like I have a lot to live up to. It's my turn now, and I can't let London down, just like my parents never let me down. And like I need to sit down with them the next time I see them, give them a hug, tell them that I don't see the whole picture yet but I'm beginning to understand, how it works, what it takes, how I can see now that my whole life is built on the sacrifices they made. And I need to look them in the eyes and tell them that I won't let them down, that I'll do everything that I can for London the way they did everything they could for me and my brothers.

Family is often described as the ties that bind. The first thing that comes to mind, at least when you're young, is chains. It's not fair, but there it is. Then later on you realize that people are bound together for another reason. The ties aren't like chains, they're like safety ropes when you're climbing. They're there to help pull you up the parts you aren't strong enough to climb yourself, and to catch you when you stumble. And those ties are made of love, which starts out as fragile as a snowflake and matures into something stronger than granite.

I love you, Mom and Dad. I don't see the whole picture, but I'm starting to get it. I won't let you down.

I'm bad at this

The blogging, I mean. Putting up pictures. I haven't since Thanksgiving. Bad Dad!

So I'm not going to try to put up tons of pictures at a time, or write anything profound. I'm going to aim for the much more realistic goal of one photo per week. Here's this week's picture: Tiny Man in his Train, playing with his fire station.

Sometimes he has trouble with two different vowel sounds close together. He says "airplane" just fine but "airport" comes out as "oarport". He can identify several planets on sight. He recognizes Jupiter by its stripes, Saturn by its rings, Mars because it's red, and Earth by the blue and white. In his words, it's "Earf, the planet that we walk on." So Earf isn't a problem vowel-wise, but this past week he learned the word "earthmover" which comes out "oofmover".

The other night Vicki tripped and fell. She's okay now, but it made her cry. London came over and said, "Momma, you're not in trouble".

Another night he asked me to sing "the merry song". So I started singing "We Wish You a Merry Christmas", which is his favorite Christmas song. But he cut me off and said, "No, the one with the boat." Then I knew he meant "Row, Row, Row Your Boat". So I sang it, and when I got to the end, "Life is but a dream," he just died laughing, and then said, "Daddy, you're not supposed to say 'butt'".

Stay tuned for another photo next week...I hope.