Yeah, it must be hard being a man in a predominantly female line of work.

One of Eli's teachers just emailed us these pictures of him that were taken in his second year of the nursing program (four years ago or so). I guess they were using him as a guinea pig during a lab to demonstrate patient restraints. As you can see, he had a very difficult time being the only man in his class.

These are days we'll remember.

Dear Eliot,

Today is the last day of your very first January. You began the day early, in bed with Momma and Daddy at five o'clock because you decided you were finished sleeping in the crib. You babbled around a bit and then fell back asleep with us. You and I spent most of the day together, and it was a good day. We stacked block towers and knocked them down and made a train out of an empty diaper box that you had great fun sitting in while I pulled you around the floor. You also walked around with your push toy (with me holding on to you) for the first time. You took two good naps with no complaints and woke up happy each time. You ate your meals without putting up too much of a fuss. You were such a sweetheart all day long. I love you so much. Being cooped up inside this winter has been difficult for both of us, but we're surviving. Today we stood and watched the snow falling outside the window. It was a good day to be inside, just playing and snuggling.






Sleep tight, little boy. When you wake it will be February, a new month, a new day, full of possibilities.

Ridiculous things to say to a classroom full of college freshmen.

"Procrastination is an evil monkey."

"If you don't understand the assignment, please come and see me during my office hours...sometimes I have candy. I'm like the witch from Hansel and Gretel. Pleeeze, cheeldren...come into my office. My desk is made of peppermint sticks."

"If you're feeling overwhelmed, break the assignment down into small tasks. Set small goals and reward yourself for acheiving them. For example, promise yourself that you'll work on revising your thesis statement tonight and then when you finish, eat a brownie. Just one brownie, NOT THE WHOLE PAN OF BROWNIES." **and then, pointing a slow, surveying finger around the room**: "You know who you are."

Sadly, these are just examples of the dumbass things I've actually uttered out loud to one of my classes THIS WEEK ALONE. Note that today is only Tuesday.

However, I'm feeling pretty suave, since one of my colleagues (who shall remain nameless) popped in today to share her/his concern that she/he will surely be sued over having asked a class which presidential candidate they felt was mostly likely to have sex with animals.

Clearly there are some contenders around here for the stupid teacher of the year award. And I thought I had it in the bag.

Easy like Sunday morning (and evening).

Sitting stretched out on the couch wearing my jammies and new dog slippers (thanks, Elecia!); just brushed my teeth, and my mouth is feeling baking soda and peroxide fresh; the Illini basketball game and Eli's amusing commentary in the background. He's lying on the other couch eating a pear. How disgustingly healthy. I just downed about a half a bag of potato chips and three handfuls of M&M's, and Eli is eating a pear. Ugh.

Just having a relaxing Sunday evening after putting Eliot to bed. We shipped him off to Grandma and Grandpa's house on Friday night and he spent the weekend with them. We met for lunch today and brought him back home. I missed him SO much this weekend. It was great to have him back home. Just couldn't stop snuggling and hugging and kissing him. We all three went upstairs and made a game of rolling his fabric ball back and forth, which Eliot found hilarious. He giggled and giggled every time the ball landed in his lap.

We had a nice weekend—Friday night I had two of my sisters over to scrapbook and talk and drink hot chocolate, which was fabulous—such a stress relieving evening. Eli made supper for us (delicious Italian beef) and took care of Eliot. Then Saturday was Eli's turn—he had a friend over and they hit the local fishing shop and music store and then went to see Rambo (ew.). So we both had some quality downtime. It was nice to have a weekend spent relaxing, since it seems like most of our weekends are spent worrying about and dreading the always rapidly approaching Monday.

I should have done a lot more grading this weekend, but ah well. Such is life. I'm working on worrying less about what I OUGHT to be doing and just enjoying what I AM doing. Living a little more in the moment. This is part of what I love so much about Eliot. He totally lives in the moment because he doesn't know anything else. All of his feelings are so pure, so transparent. When happy, he radiates joy. When angry, he howls without self-consciousness. He simply is what he is, and he doesn't try to hide his feelings or censor himself in any way. I love experiencing the honesty of those emotions. Having him in my life really has made me more appreciative and mindful of the simple, everyday pleasures that I would normally take for granted. His delight is contagious. Seeing him made so happy at the rolling of a ball or the texture of Mumford's fur beneath his little fingers has led me to rediscover my own simple joys. Like the way the little couch is the perfect length for me to lean my back against one arm and stretch the flat of my feet against the other. The warmth of slippers and the slick feeling of my tongue against clean teeth. Flannel pajama pants. The soft glow of the stained glass sailboat nightlight that Grandaddy made. The soft sighing breaths of my son as he sleeps. The easy camaraderie of Eli and I as we sit together in the living room, lost in our own separate pursuits.

When I was younger, and I would struggle with homework, or learning a new dance step, or I was just frustrated at whatever, my mom would often say, "Rachel, you're making this harder than it has to be." I could never understand that. It always made me angrier to hear her say that. I'd say, "But, Mom! It IS hard. IT IS HARD!!!" I didn't get how my difficulties had anything to do with me. I always thought it was the thing itself. The thing. THIS THING IS FRUSTRATING ME BECAUSE IT IS DIFFICULT. And I would get disgusted at her, because it was so obvious to me that a certain math problem, for instance, must have a certain level of difficulty completely independent of me and my own thinking. It didn't matter how I approached the problem, because the problem was difficult in and of itself. So how could I possibly be "making it harder"? That OBVIOUSLY DOES NOT MAKE ANY SENSE, I would think, with total disdain.

But I finally think I understand what she meant. Life doesn't always have to be so complicated or so difficult. Sometimes it just is what it is. And right here, right now, what it is, is good.

I smell domestic equality.

Eli and I are both looking at something online while Eliot plays with some toys on the floor behind us. At the sound of grunting, we both turn to look at him and see him holding his breath and his face turning red.

Eli: "WHY DOES THIS CHILD POOP SO MUCH????"

Rachel: "Because we keep feeding him. And it's your turn, by the way."

Eli: "I gave him a bath!"

Rachel: "That doesn't count. I changed two poopy diapers today already. How many have you changed?"

Eli, hanging his head in defeat: "One."

Rachel: "You're up."

Eli, scooping Mr. Poopy Pants up in his arms: "Fine, but you have to put him to bed."

Rachel: "Yep." :-)

How can I tell you?

Just found out that an old friend is expecting his first child this June. Of course now I wonder what to say, beyond "Congratulations!" When you're expecting your first baby, everyone repeats the same old worn phrases: "Your life is about to change!" "Sleep as much as you can now, because you never will again." "Cherish every moment, because they go by so quickly." Yeah, yeah, yeah.

But then, the baby is born and it doesn't take long for you to realize that every single cliche is TRUE. And there's nothing else to say, because you can't possibly convey what it feels like to be a parent. There just aren't any words. You can't tell someone what complete exhaustion really feels like. That you will get up out of bed at 10, 12, 1, 2, 4, and 6 o'clock to the sounds of wailing when you would so much rather just roll over and die. That you will feel overwhelming waves of resentment and anger at this tiny little red screaming THING, quickly followed by extreme guilt that does nothing to take away the anger. You will sit down in a rocker to feed THING and if he consents to drink his bottle, you will inhale a deep breath of the top of his head, which smells like baby shampoo and a scent you can't identify that's just HIM, and in that instant all will be forgiven. His warm little body will snuggle into yours and fifteen minutes later when the bottle is gone and he's sleeping in your arms, you won't want to put him down and go back to bed. This process will be repeated every night every night every night for the rest of your life.

You will be terrified of the responsibility of protecting a new life. Because you will look at him and wonder how you ever thought that all babies look alike or seem like eating, sleeping, pooping blobs, because he's not a blob, he's your child. YOUR CHILD, and he's a whole new other little person. He will look into your eyes and you'll swear that he knows things you don't. And then he'll cut a really loud fart and laugh about it.

You'll understand what it means to have the most vulnerable part of your body living outside of your body, all visceral and sticky, and undeniably real. It's as though your heart itself sprouted limbs and got away from you and now all you can do is try to take care of it the best you can and hope that nothing terrible happens to it. Because if something hurts your heart, it hurts you too. There is no difference between you, and yet you're no longer the same at all.

You see other people walking around with their hearts in shopping carts rolling down the aisles of the grocery store and you can tell by the look on their faces that they know. And you see other people with their hearts in the same store, and you can tell that they've already forgotten. And you hope you never forget. You vow to never forget.

And when your friend tells you that his wife is pregnant you want to tell him all of this, but you can't, because it won't make any sense. You can't tell him that the very fiber of his being will expand to fill the universe and he will be more, just more than what he ever was before. And so you simply say, "Congratulations!" and "Get as much sleep as you can now..." and most of all, "Cherish these moments, because they go by so quickly..."

Grandmas and grandpas.

I thought I'd share a picture of Eliot since I haven't posted any in awhile. I took this one on New Year's Eve, when he was home with pinkeye. I'd been planning on working that day, getting things ready for classes, but ended up staying home with him instead, as he couldn't go to daycare. We had a pretty lazy day, after a trip to the pediatrician's office, of course. He was really sweet--you wouldn't have been able to tell he was sick if it weren't for the electric green boogers oozing from his eyes. Pretty nasty. But antibiotics nipped it in the bud and he was feeling all better in a couple of days. This is him taking a nap in Mommy & Daddy's bed. Special treatment for the sick boy--he likes to look out our window.

We spent the weekend in Kinmundy, visiting grandmas and grandpas. That's what I always say when we're on our way down there--"Eliot, do you want to go visit grandmas and grandpas?" He's such a lucky boy to have so many people who love him. Fell asleep Friday night in the rocking chair with Grandma Connie and Saturday night in the glider with Ma Ma Karil. Life is good.