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08 aug 2009

	Jayryn at one.

03 jan 2010

Asia passed away under terrible circumstances.

02 feb 2010

I might do it more than most, but I'm sure all parents spend contemplative hours watching their babies sleep. Arms draped over the crib rails silently murmuring a list of promises and commitments, the idealistic parental contract, "I will love you more than any baby has been loved", "I will nourish and protect through any circumstances", ...

Of course, I get in trouble if I wake the baby when I do this, and I have a tendency to weep in the practice, so it's a delicate balance between navy seal boarding tactics and reality-show contestant histrionics.

My wife's theory on sleeping babies is that all little boys must sleep with a monkey, so Jayryn has two in his crib. (Well one, is really a lion, but it's such a misshapen sock-puppet sort of thing that it could pass for a monkey, (especially if there were storm troopers at the door looking for lions)).

Tonight, as my mantra runs through my head, the little boy starts to stir and I'm worried I'm about to be busted. Eyes full of sleep, he churns through his covers. I grab the one true monkey and as Jayryn flips to his stomach I deftly slip the monkey into his flailing arms. He pulls the monkey into a tight hug and makes the gentle left-hand turn back to dreamland.

I'm feeling very "Indiana Jones style Raiders of the Lost Ark" as I re-tuck him in with a quilt my mother sewed by hand, back from the day when that's the sort of thing she did.

I creep back out of his room full of the small, quiet, victories in parenthood and wishing there was more of those feelings in life.

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