19 months
Posted on | September 19, 2006 | 10 Comments
Dear Bean,
You sit at my feet making a picture all by yourself with the skinny markers I keep in a jar in my studio. Carefully you uncap each one, recapping it after you have added its color in bright stripes to your page. It is raining out and for a few short moments, we’re both working quietly—contented in the semi dark of the room, rain splattering the glass. This month has been all about times like this with you—times of longer concentration, conversation, and activity.
I love watching you close doors or pick up shoes after I’ve asked you to—a grin always spreading across your face like sweet jam. You spend time drawing now, or looking at books. You bring piles to anyone who will comply: climbing into their lap, saying “buh! buh!” And you’ve started to build with me—block towers ten or twelve blocks high. Of course, you’re favorite part is still knocking them down—but I’m excited that we’re on the cusp of this new kind of play. Construction.
This month you’ve become obsessed with walking in my shoes—literally. I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that you can walk in them with such ease—you’ve already shown us a thousand times your natural sense of balance and coordination. I’ve stopped worrying you’ll fall and break your neck every single time you slip into a pair of my shoes—and instead have taken to wishing I could freeze you like this forever: goofy, and adorable, and still so small.
Other things you are obsessed with: stuffing toilet paper down behind me while I’m sitting on the loo. Eating peanut butter and jelly tortilla roll-ups. Climbing up onto the picture window sill. Riding on my shoulders. Visiting the neighbor’s sheep. And playing guitar with Daddy.
Driving home after work today I was thinking about how much I look forward to seeing you at the end of the day. How delighted I am to come in and find you and scoop you up. I love your gutsy little laugh as I tickle your tummy. The way you wrap your arms around my neck. And even the way you blatantly ignore me now, when you’re in the middle of a project.
Like always since you came into our lives, each month seems to go too fast. Yet, like always, the lesson you teach me again and again is to slow down, be present, and enjoy the pure intensity of every moment.
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10 Responses to “19 months”
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I am Christina Rosalie
Hello. I'm so happy you've stopped by!
I am a multimedia storyteller, digital strategist, idea starter, stalker of wonder, finder of four leaf clovers, MFA graduate student, and mama of boys. My first book,
will be published by SKIRT! Books in September, 2012.
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September 19th, 2006 @ 5:48 pm
just wait…soon he’ll be trying to see just how far into the air he can kick those shoes…and he may be wanting to shave your legs soon too, that’s the phase we’re currently in…
September 19th, 2006 @ 7:25 pm
love to you all
September 19th, 2006 @ 7:51 pm
Your Bean letters always make me cry – more so this month. It is so sweet to see his pictures and read your beautiful words. They also remind me of how vulnerable it feels to love someone so much – they are such amazing little creatures!! I emailed you a picture of my son finger painting once … I think you inspire many of us daily to think outside of our realm and do things we are usually nervous about because of fear of messes or time constraints with life. As always, Christina, thank you for sharing your blessed life and beautiful Bean with us. You are a good mama.
September 19th, 2006 @ 11:25 pm
So beautiful. He is a special little guy, so full of life and energy — I love the photos of him in your shoes.
September 20th, 2006 @ 1:24 am
He is so very beautiful. It does go by so fast, way too fast for me! But it looks like you are enjoying everyminute you can and, really, that’s all we can do.
September 20th, 2006 @ 10:33 am
ahhhh… thank you again for reminding us all just how precious this age really is.
September 20th, 2006 @ 11:24 am
heart. on. floor.
so beautiful.
September 20th, 2006 @ 5:01 pm
You’ve totally made me miss my kids at that age.
September 22nd, 2006 @ 12:48 am
Okay, little boys, totally delightful. Little boys in corduroy overalls? They kill me.
A wonderful letter, as always. And looking at him in your shoes, so small, I had a fast forward vision to dirty soccer cleats and heavy hiking boots. Oh! smelly boy feet! There’s nothing like it, is there? (Thank God for Febreze.)
October 3rd, 2006 @ 9:35 pm
It is amazing to know that we; moms feel the same for our little ones. I just felt that you keyed my feelings into words. I am a mother of a 1 yr old, working full time. Everyday when i leave him in day-care I feel the sense of lose through out the day until I go back to him. His fleeding eyes haunt me whole day while his cries echoe in my ears. At times I feel we should live the life and enjoy it. The life is there in front of our own eyes that unfolds in the words, laughters and tears of our little ones.