What a Trip

It is interesting to see how this blog has evolved over the last four years. What began as a place for me to muse about my impending parenthood quickly became a forum for posting a log of our daily and weekly activities as a family. Of course, this was mostly when our new baby was immobile; her discovery of perambulation slowed the blogging process considerably, so it became more of a quarterly overview. This larger perspective led to a more reflective, philosophical approach to blogging as opposed to a rundown of the places we'd gone and the things we'd seen. And, funnily enough, having a wider perspective as a writer has turned this blog back into a place where I can basically ponder or pontificate on any subject that strikes me-- it has become my musing place once again.

I prefer the freedom of being able to just write what I feel like writing, but I am starting to recognize that there was value in keeping a record of our activities, too. I miss having a sort of journal to look back on as time passes, especially as life just keeps bringing new changes. What seems mundane as I'm writing it becomes significant when, months later, I realize that mundane thing no longer happens. It is humbling to realize-- for the 4,000th time-- that I'm just not always very good at realizing what is important as it is happening. It usually takes a little time and distance for my most valuable memories to reveal themselves.

Our 2012 beach trip took place over seven months ago, but for some reason I never found the time to post the photographs of that beautiful adventure. I'm looking at those pictures now, agog at how much my babies have changed, how much their little companions Maya and Eoin have changed, and how desperately I miss having hours and days to spend in the company of my dear friends. I want to slow down or pause or rewind my life, just temporarily, so that I can catch my breath and tell myself: enjoy this day. Soak it up, wring all the love and joy out of it that you can and just forget about the rest. I knew this trip was important as I was experiencing it-- Lavender was just beginning to walk, and Geneva was exploding into a new world of imagination-- but I didn't quite grasp how important it was. 

Here are some very old pictures, for your enjoyment... and, because this is my musing place, for mine.

Bye Bye Beardie

For months now Avery has been muttering dire threats regarding his beard. He's going to shave it off. He's really going to do it. He's not kidding. It has to go.

Tonight it did.

Avery strode into the bathroom and, after a lot of very purposeful-sounding buzzing, emerged with a much shorter version of the previous beard. It was Beard 2.0. I approved.

But then he went back into the bathroom. More buzzing ensued. And then... "Oh shit." He came back out sporting stubble and a look of deep concern. "I think I messed up. They're really uneven." I admit that I was only paying half-attention at this point, but I tore myself away from Jason Good's blog and turned around to get a nice long look at my newly shorn husband. Uneven? I scanned his face. Nothing seemed horribly amiss, although he did look oddly unfamiliar without his beard. I squinted at him... and then my eyes were drawn to his right hand, which was nervously petting the hair above his ear. Something was off. He could see it in my face, and asked "how bad is it?" That was when it finally dawned on me that Avery had buzzed off one of his sideburns.

I want to stop here and stress that it doesn't look that bad. Seriously. Avery is currently sitting across the living room from me and I can't even tell. But as I looked at him, fretting over his botched haircut, no comforting words sprang to mind. Of course the longer I said nothing the more horrified he looked, until finally I did the least helpful thing I could have possibly done: I laughed.

Oh boy, did I laugh. Giggles I didn't even know I was holding in came tumbling out, and with every guffaw Avery cringed, poor man. I wish I could say I was kinder in that moment, but all I did was sit in hysterics on the couch, waving my hands feebly in front of my face as if shooing away flies. I am such a catch.

Fortunately, what Avery lacks in a supportive spouse he makes up for with good looks; if anyone can pull off the one-sideburn look, he can. While I finished laughing and weeping he returned to the bathroom to touch up his handiwork with a justifiably indignant air about him. Now he's sitting in his chair listening to Eddie Izzard. I wonder if he's forgiven me yet.

Guess I'd better go find out.