A Day of No Importance

It’s times like this that I think we’ve written ourselves into a corner with this blog. We’ve created a virtual log of firsts and accomplishments for Colin (mixed in with cute photos), and when there’s nothing to report, it goes stale.

I mean, it’s a regular ole Tuesday in his life – in all of our lives – nothing special about it.

Sure, Colin turned 5 months old on Saturday and celebrated by not napping and being generally cranky all day long. However, that night, he slept extremely well into Sunday morning and we all woke up happy and refreshed. He’s always such fun after he’s slept REALLLLLY well.

Sure, he appears to be teething – he’s drooling to beat the band – and shoving his fingers and anything else not tied down into his mouth in an attempt to gum it for a bit. And he’s continuing to eat his cereal like a champ. In fact, whenever I sit down with a plate or bowl of food for me, he looks a little bit upset that it’s not cereal time.

Sure, he’s trying to sit and roll all the time now, but can’t quite get the hang of it. And he sometimes gets frustrated because we keep plopping him down on his tummy and pleading with him to turn over – just so he can keep up with development charts written in books or dictated by doctors. Don’t they realize that parents in the trenches strive every day for their child’s perceived normalcy? All the while we proclaim Colin to be unique, when secretly we hope he doesn’t fall behind the Joneses, just as all parents seek relative sameness for their children to their peers.

As snapped by Uncle Scott.

Sure, he continues to grow and learn each day. And every so often when we’re trying to teach him who he is and who we are and the other small fragments of knowledge in this big confusing world – every so often, you catch a light behind his eyes of potential comprehension, maybe a giggle or just a longing stare – a connection, perhaps – and it can keep you going the rest of the day. All we need is to continue to spark his desire for understanding.

Sure, all these things are going on at once around us. But truly, these activities no longer feel as earth-shattering or unusual to Heidi and me as some of our very first experiences with Colin – some of those original days when we were aliens to each other – when we struggled just to keep on top of a forever changing baby and his constant challenges.

No – instead, it’s a random Tuesday in his life. Just like any Tuesday, nothing terribly momentous about it. Except perhaps that’s how to perceive it, as a special moment in time –
not as exciting as First Tooth! or High School Graduation! -
but perhaps a moment not unlike the one where mountaineers set up a basecamp while scaling a mountain.

No, really, allow me the analogy for a second.

At the basecamp, the climbers have time to rest and regroup upon their larger journey, while reflecting on how far they’ve already come. Maybe this is a moment, like setting up a basecamp, where we can reflect upon Colin and how his newness seems to have worn off and – without really noticing it – we’ve truly transformed into a family. And having nothing to report only means that perhaps we're getting more comfortable with the whole arrangement.

Yes, it’s your average Tuesday and Heidi and I are busy and work is crazy and nothing new is happening and the baby is fine – but now, for a fraction of a second, we pause on the side of this mountain to take in the view.