Back!

Hey y'all!

A little more than two weeks has passed and everything is the same but different, if ya know what I mean. Same house, same stuff I left piled around, but from the new perspective of being reminded that it's my stuff, in my house, and that I'm an adult and have things (things to do, things to be, you know -- things). When I go back I tend to be in a weirdly liminal place of woman-child-ness. I'm in my folks house and they have their own routine and their own ways of doing stuff, and I'm in some ways thrown back to being the teen and early twentysomething I was before I left home (not that they treat me like this--it's just all those familiar patterns). I'm cared for in that mom does the laundry and the cooking for the most part and buys the groceries and stuff. It's nice for a bit but in the long term would drive us all crazy I think. Even being a mom doesn't change this dynamic all that much. Thus is the way of families I'm guessing. We had a lovely time and were sad to leave. I'm always a little sad/happy/confused after a trip home to the Haffalax. Sad to leave, happy to be home, confused cause our family can't be in two places at the same time.

Iffin you have never seen an autumn on the East Coast, put it on your list of things to do before you die. We had some lovely days of that bright sunshine and cool crispness that characterizes fall-ness (pumpkins, and apples and wood stoves and halloween and unpacking kids' snowsuits for the winter to come). The public gardens had not closed yet, so we took Nate for a walk to see the ducks and a long stroll on the waterfront (he was loving it). I took no pictures during our trip home, or no pictures I want to admit to. I am no photographer y'all, and I had our old camera which takes like a second between pressing the button and taking the picture so the few I did get were blurry. Justin is the photographer in the family, me not so much. So no pictures.

Nate loved being at the house with its roominess and tonnes of floor space to explore. He motors along now and you have to keep all eyes in a room dedicated to him or else he will find trouble trouble trouble. He has a new word that seems to actually mean something to him in a way that other sounds don't. He will look at you and say quite clearly "dat." If you don't do/say/have a reaction he wants, he then says "dat, dat, dat," and smiles, or grins or bangs something. So I say to him "dat" back, and he is usually quite pleased with that. He also wants to grab the spoon and feed himself, which doesn't really work at all. But gaud luv'em he's tryin (my best written Maritimer accent).

My parents were in heaven and my mom showed Nate how to make funny faces, taught him songs, spoiled him rotten, and needled me because I wouldn't let her give him ice cream yet ("just a little taste off the spoon" she said) as I'm doing an allergy introduction thing with him. My Dad played with him, sang his version of 50s and 60s greatest hits to him, and generally doted on him (he even changed a dirty diaper -- that's love!).

It has taken me the better part of the day to get this post together, so I think I'll click the little button.

It's nice to be home.