June 2001 Archives

Henry is pulling himself up on anything and everything in his path these days. It is his new obsession. He is also getting pretty good at sitting back down or asking for help (he holds out his hand and looks at Brad or me), so I am no longer hovering within millimeters of him every time he gets up. He falls and lots of times we're there to catch him. Sometimes, we aren't; he has a bump on the head and a scrape on the chin to show for it. I worry, both about his physical safety and about how to parent him now that he is starting to become more independent. I don't want to be too clingy or over-cautious, always saying "no" and "careful." I also don't want him to get hurt. A tension I'll have to live with for the rest of my life. Along with my worry, however, comes the thrill of watching him learn how to use his body, of getting to see his understanding of the world grow, of seeing his excitement as he explores. And now, sometimes when he falls, he catches himself.

I lived in Southern California for a few years as a kid. Not long, really, just five years. But they were important years, impressionable years; we arrived from New York State when I was four and left for Maryland when I was nine. There are things from that time that I remember as though it were yesterday. Come to think of it, I remember a few things better than I remember yesterday. So it was only natural that we took a little drive during our visit to Kathy's parents and toured the old neighborhood.