The step before crawling

Dad calls it dryhumping

Digging out

The start of a six-day weekend

Snowed in today, and Monday is a holiday, so Mama is looking at a six-day weekend! Looking forward to spending time with Cayden, maybe skiiing, maybe seeing friends and updating photo and video files!

Here's Shorty this morning, playing with Hercules.

And here's proof for all the grandparents who continue to marvel at what a "neat eater" Cayden is that dinner time is a little different than lunch time. That's prunes and whole grain cereal all over his face, clothes, hands and even in his hair.

Slowing down to savor the simple joy, today

Too often we sacrifice opportunities for joy-inspiring moments today, in exchange for anticipated joy tomorrow. At least I do. And I've been reminded that while I'm looking forward to the next big thing -- crawling, more noises, pincer grips -- the simple joys of every day are quietly passing me by, unnoticed, unappreciated, uncelebrated. My little boy's two-toothed-smiles, belly wiggles, sudden shrieks -- each day they're disappearing into yesterdays, fading from memory because I'm too busy looking forward to stop, pay close attention and cherish the small joys today.

I've been inspired by another woman's unimaginable hope, steadfast resolve and unrelenting faith in life's beauty and magic. Inspired to slow down. To savor the simple moments each day that could bring such joy to my heart, if only I would acknowledge them, relish them.

Kelle is an amazing writer, amazing photographer, amazing mother. I have never met her, but this much I know. Kelle is also an amazing soul searching for -- and finding -- beauty and joy in a new way of life she never imagined. Her universe was turned upside-down a couple of weeks ago, when she welcomed her second daughter into the world, heart-wrenchingly aware as soon as she looked into Nella's eyes that her beautiful baby has Downs Syndrome. Kelle is working each day at turning tragedy into triumph, learning to re-imagine the future, struggling with thoughts and fears I can't even begin to comprehend.

Because when I do start to imagine myself in her shoes, I shut down. Tears-streaming-down-my-face, terror-in-my-heart, unanswerable-questions-haunting-my-brain shut down. Because life, when looked at as a bigger picture, is so often scary and complex and sad. Because for as many hopes as I have for my son, and as big as my dreams for him are, there are equally as many fears and infinitely greater dread. Because for all the little boys who grow up to be rock stars or professional athletes or talented executives, there are just as many who get cancer. Suffer debilitating accidents. Develop mental handicaps.

And because for as strong as I like to believe I am, I know I'm just not strong enough to handle that kind of stuff. The kind of stuff that no amount of love in the world can prevent and no amount of forward planning can preclude from happening.

And as morbid as such thoughts are, sometimes a bird's eye view of the big, bad world can inspire a greater, more concentrated attention to the simple, little things in life that have the potential to bring happiness, each and every day.

Today, my son smiled at me when I peeked over his crib to greet him this morning. Today, I got to experience the peace, contentment and sleepy serenity of snuggle snacks not once, but twice before I left for work. Today, my son serenaded me with a little baby-nonsense song while I took a shower. Today, my son made me laugh out loud because he yammed his belly full of milk all over himself just as Daddy was ready to head out the door.

Today my life is beautiful because of my son, my husband. Not because of how clean my floors are or because my hampers are empty. Not because our pantry is full of just-in-case-we-need-it ingredients or because our freezers are full of little, just-we-may-need-them-someday baggies of milk. My life is beautiful today in spite of all of life's mundane details and planning ahead. It's beautiful today because of the love in my heart, the innocent wonder in my son's eyes and the hope and joy I share with my beloved husband.

Tomorrow always has the potential to be scary. I'm confident many tomorrows will bring pain and tears and fears and desperation -- for me, for my husband, for our son.

But today: today my life is as perfect as I could hope, and my love is as big and beautiful as I allow it to be.

Lesson learned: don't automatically assume blue means boy clothes

Here's an outfit one of Brian's clients gave us shortly after Shorty was born. I thought the one pink letter on the front was funny, but the outfit is blue, and there are blue and green letters, too.

So I grabbed it out of his closet this morning, and as I was putting it on him, I realized this is definitely a girl's onesie. First of all, there is a scalloped, kind of lace-y edge around the neck and snap line. And then, once I got it on him, I realized the shoulders have some "poof" in them!

Apparently they make girls clothes a little smaller, too. 'Cause Cayden's 12-month boys clothes from Carters fit him pretty well, but this 12-month Carters onesie is a bit tight.

Daddy wanted me to take the outfit off Junior as soon as he saw it. I figured since it was on him, let him get at least one wear out of this thing. The compromise? I have to be sure and change our little boy into something more respectable before the SuperBowl starts.

Snow Angel

Really, someone explain to me why anyone would think it's OK to touch a complete stranger's baby.

Because I've been struggling to come up with a rationale that would make such personally offensive behavior acceptable in another's mind, and I've been spending the last day trying to come up with an appropriate response or reaction to such imposition on my and my baby's personal space.

Now of course Cayden attracts lots of comments and coos from strangers when we're out, but that's as far as anyone had ever gone, until yesterday. I'd heard of stranger-baby-touching happening to others, but I never really thought much about it because it just seems to me so, how do you say, who-the-flock-would-ever-do-that. Really, just outside my realm of possibility because people just. can't. be. that. ignorant.

But oh, how I was proven wrong at the best (or worst) place for such a lesson -- the one store that spans the social and educational stratosphere to attract all kinds -- Walmart.

So there we are, stuck in the check-out line that is naturally taking FOREVER because the woman at the register can't figure out how to pay, when an overly friendly man and his wife push their cart right up behind me. But since I had gone around to the front of the cart in hopes of someday unloading my groceries on the belt, they had front-row access to Cayden in his little cart cozy.

And then the man starts talking -- well, really more like squawking and yelling -- at my baby. My poor, unprotected baby, who had no idea what to think of this in-your-face moron. I'm immediately uncomfortable, but I think to myself, "I'm sure he means no harm, he just wants to talk to the cute kid. I mean, SURELY he sees that I'm a mother concerned about germs and the big bad world, because, you know -- MY BABY IS IN A CART COZY. And besides, what am I supposed to do now? Dart back around the cart to intercept this stranger's misguided baby attention, thereby making myself look like a paranoid -- and perhaps racist -- overprotective, overbearing mother?"

So I smile uncomfortably back at the stranger, who must have taken my ass-cheeks-squeezed-tighter-together-than-a-vice grin as encouragement. Because then he started TOUCHING my baby. First his sock. Whew, no real harm there. Then, oh no -- he's grabbing his hands. And finally, holy mother of God he's actually squeezing my kid's cheeks!!

I was floored. Speechless. Frozen in place and completely bewildered. Until finally the douchebag "I can't figure out how to pay for my groceries" woman got through the check-out, so I could unload my groceries on the belt and get back around the cart.

Just in time for this asshat's attention to scare Cayden enough to make him start wailing in the cart. So I swipe him up and carry him the rest of the way through check out. And the whole time this guy behind me is still talking in funny voices at my kid, completely ignoring the fact that HE MADE THE BABY CRY.

Ew, ew, eeeeew, ew ew. Yesterday afternoon was a lesson in simple idiocy of greater humanity.

So, please: I welcome comments on both sides of the aisle. What makes a stranger think it's OK to touch a baby, and what the hell do you do when you find your baby the target of a (creepy) stranger's attention?

'Cause I'm at a loss.