#tht

 

Jeddy, just under 3 months old

Some observations, in no particular order:

Jeddy was our only child in the house at that time; now he’s the only child not in our house.

I still have those glasses. I’m wearing them right now.

I’m sitting in a camp chair so this must’ve been before we got the rocking chair that I rocked all our babies in and now can’t figure out what to do with. We had been in the house about six weeks in this picture.

The room isn’t painted yet—just builder’s white. Just a few weeks after this was taken, my parents and Jason and I spent Labor Day weekend painting our entire hallway and great room a lovely taupe while Jeddy napped or rotated between our arms. This bedroom was at some point painted in adorable green stripes, and later painted over in blue.

We have quite a paltry collection of books there. No wonder we read The Little Engine That Could so many dang times. We must get over the mountain! All the good little boys and girls will have no toys to play with or good food to eat! Won’t you help us? Gag.

That was my childhood bookshelf and I’m not sure where it is today. I believe the front top corners were cut off at an angle so it would fit inside a very specific closet somewhere in my early years. It’s the same one I scorched in college with a candle I let burn really low.

Look at his little cute self! He was a ridiculously good sleeper (so much that he neglected to eat and subsequently failed to thrive for a while), so I’m reasonably well-rested in this photo. What does it say that the thought of painting a room now, much less a whole floor of a house, without a baby in tow, makes my heart quail with exhaustion? Does it say that I’m 46 instead of 25? Does it say that I’m jaded instead of brimming with the optimism of youth?

Does it say that my only child at the time didn’t complicate things by voicing his opinion of the project? Or does it just say that I probably need to drive someone to soccer in a few hours?