Life is truly influx. Change is everywhere; it’s just more noticeable with a newborn.
One week no smiles and the next week, bam: smiles day and night. Literally, Cal smiles in the dark at night after he eats... I can barely see the corners of his upturned mouth in the firefly-din of the nightlight, yet it’s there no matter. I think Cal first started smiling for real at 6-7 weeks (so for weeks now!). It's so mesmerizing, you can't look away. It’s a huge gaping grin, most often soundless so no dilly dallying: you have to pay attention. I can tonsil watch, it's such a huge gape. Somewhere I read that looking at a smiling baby is like getting high on cocaine, brain-chemistry wise. That’s why I don’t feel so guilty about my addiction … because it’s real.
Here are some other new developments: Cal drools like crazy (and bubbles at the mouth), likes being carried in the front so he can see the world (Cal The Curious), can be found increasingly in his baby bjorn, either HATES or LOVES being changed, is enjoying my touch-and-go efforts at baby massage, is super alert at bath time, and has a swimmingly good time staring at the ever-smiling and fancy checkered frog, turtle, and fish trio dangling over his play mat.
______________________________
Oh my, those hands. They are so beautiful and alive that I doubt I’ll ever capture their soaring magnificence. They are little beings in their own right. They are so active, whirling and twirling; either fully extended or cupped in tightly wound fists. Little birdies with five wings. Like his face, they serve as ambassadors for his feelings. They bounce in jubilation, dart and jerk in frustration, or rest like a stack of pancakes in relaxation. They are plump and dimpled and perfectly edible dunked in maple syrup … but I refrain.
Regarding Cal ’s fists, Shaun says he’s boxing. I think he’s the sensitive type … that he’d never hurt a fly. Maybe he’ll be both at different points in his life or even at the same time. Or perhaps he’s just getting a head start on rock-paper-scissors. Whatever unfolds, they are magic hands. I’d stand in a line for a ticket to see them dance any day of the week.
______________________________
Today is the first day I thought (for a second) that I’d been replaced by Cal ’s new caretaker: daddy Shaun. Shaun had discovered something akin to a precious stone – a reliable method of making Cal smile.
This is how it works: grab a (clean) pacifier, bring pacifier waaay above Cal’s head, start making plane noises while steering the pacifier down, down, down toward Cal’s mouth, watch a huge grin creep in, “crash” the pacifier (gently) in Cal’s mouth, repeat and bask in the simple but unparallel glory of making a baby smile.
_______________________________
I sometimes suspect that milestones are actually counter productive. They can be fun and insightful, but they can also subtract from what is truly important: the now. For instance, I keep catching myself looking forward to the time when Cal will coo in direct reply to conversation or when I can mush up bright avocados and veggies from the garden (hopefully ours will actually yield a crop) and watch Cal chuck the mash across the room, or even when he’ll accomplish full head support. Fortunately, there will be plenty of time to watch those things happen and also to marvel at first words and worry at 16.
But right now he’s still working on neck control. He also smiles like mad, drools happily, sucks on his fist (adorable beyond belief), and gazes curiously at the world from his drop-dead gorgeous blue eyes, round like two of Saturn’s moons.
That’s why when people mourn the growth of their children as in: “Enjoy this time because they grow up too fast.” I have a couple thoughts: 1. they’re still alive, 2. they’re still growing, and 3. pay attention or you’ll keep missing it! Still, I understand the draw of planning for the future and dreaming about the past. I just hope I can think of those three thoughts when I turn around one day and look into the eyes of Cal the man.
