Uni-brow

As if it isn't an injustice alone that babies are forced out of the muffled comfort and security of the womb and into the cold, hard-edged world with its bright lights and loud colors, family members who don't respect your personal space, and hairy monsters that pass through your line of sight from time to time leaving you confused and unsettled (of course here we refer to the family dog) . . . Soon after these tortured little souls acquire fun things like acne, cradle cap, and hair loss such that they take on the appearance of highly reactive middle-aged men. Given all this, I'm not quite sure what God was thinking when he decided that, in addition, he would remove little B's left eyebrow, too--not the right one, mind you, just the left. Was this a sick little joke or an oversight of some kind? It would seem SOMEone got a little too carried away with the eraser.

Fortunately my little guy will have no memory of this dark, cruel period in his early life. And his hair is light enough that the eyebrow gaff is easy to miss in most photos. In fact here he seems blissfully unaware.

The house-hunt that threatens to break our hearts, and the bittersweet thanks when a mother departs

So, the title of this post is far more dramatic than the reality...but still, if you've ever made an offer on a home and allowed your mind to wander to images of your furniture and your family in it--only to then have that offer rejected--you'll know what I mean.

Add to this the fact that, in Boston, the house-hunting game teaches some hard lessons. For example, on the place we nearly had but lost, we offered asking price but were "beat out" by a buyer who offered the same but with NO contingencies (this included waiving the home inspection). Someone REALLY wanted that house (and we thought WE did)! We just couldn't match that given the home's history with pests...

So, a great (1/2 acre) fenced-in yard, proximity to our offices as well as local shops, and a home with character were lost to us barely a week ago, and it's been a disappointing few days of edging further and further away from the city in order to meet our criteria. But guess what? The commute is one of our concerns! More on this to come, and maybe a photo if we manage to trump the other eager buyers and score our first (true) home. Now that we've been properly initiated, it shouldn't be that difficult, right?

This post is really a mini-tribute to my mom, who left last Wednesday after spending 3 exhausting weeks with us to help with the baby (and--hurrah!--witness his birth). My mom does many things well, but what she does best is intuit what her daughter needs in her hour(s) of need. And if you read the previous posting you get a sense of just how needy I was, especially since I was all but useless, apart from being a feeding machine, the first few days I was home with the baby.

I was more spoiled than a 30-something mother should be; I had 3 other caregivers (mom as well as mother-in-law and husband, and even my dad for a few days) and a "helpful"-as-he-can-be toddler. But my mom knew almost before I did when I ought to eat something, take a shower, or just grab a quick nap between feedings. And just as important, she knew what our older son needed--attention, indulgence even--given the big transition from sole child to sharing the spotlight. He still sings all the songs she taught him during her stay, something I relish hearing if I can keep from tearing up, sappy fool that I am!

So, thanks Mom, for putting up with me and my family, for reducing your hours of required sleep each night (from 9-10 to something like 5-6!), for teaching Fisher to "read" his favorite book word by word and to sing "You're Someone Special" and "Animal Fair" (his favorites) among others, for bonding with little B when I couldn't, and for that gift you have for--dare I say--service to others.

Speaking of gifts, the baby is sleeping so it's time for me to take advantage and rest as well.