6 months: Waiting for Words

Waiting for your words is like waiting to walk down those pea-green carpeted stairs Christmas morning, like waiting for your grandfather to walk me down the aisle of grass to marry your father, like waiting for that test to turn blue.

Your words are sounds now, ahs and ohs and gas and goos. To hear you utter that first, distinguishable word...To talk with you...I cannot think of anything more beautiful, your voice already my favorite thing to hear.

The other day, I heard a son talking to his mother about what he learned in preschool that day: "the five senses," he said. The boy talked about "purple sand," his mom asking him what it felt like, and I teared up, thinking about you in school and our future conversations like this. Some day, I whispered to myself, to you.

Today, you are 6 months. I wait for your words like I waited for your birth.

Happy New Year

2010. A new decade. Ten years ago I was living in LA. I went to the Rose Bowl with friends from Madison who were in town. I was hungover. Big time.

Now, I'm watching the Rose Bowl on TV as you nap. It should be the Hawkeyes playing.

2010 will be an amazing year of growth and adventure for you. You'll learn to crawl, cruise, walk, talk, eat solid foods, climb stairs. It's so very exciting to think about. It's hard to imagine you in these various new stages, just as it's hard to imagine your future new years when you're a teen, young adult, grown man.

I dream of sharing a great bottle of champagne with you, some year, to celebrate.

I look forward to many moments with you in 2010. You continue to amaze me every day. Happy New Year, my son.