This post is part of an ongoing blog circle with several other woman photographers, writing monthly letters to our children. Link to the next letter is at the bottom of this post. It’s been a great way for me to document more intentionally the connection I have with my son, born in April, despite the chaos of our daily lives! This will be the last letter in our blog circle, though I may continue through January, February, and March of 2014 on my own, to make a full year of letters to Ben.
“You silly man!” That’s what Elodie says to you now, as you crawl around our house, because I am always saying it to you as I pick you up and reset you back in a safe spot. Crawling and pulling up all. over. You have entirely too much energy, always getting into things, concentrating and getting frustrated and giggling. You’re eight months old, and such a wild thing.
You’re eating constantly, up to three puree jars/packs each day, plus all of your bottles, and handfuls of easily-dissolved puff snacks. You are just insatiable, in your eating and basically in everything. I dread our incredibly-long flight to our new home, because I have no idea how you will handle being so trapped, forced to sit relatively still in one place for hours and hours on end.
Did I mention that we’re moving? We’re having a hard time telling you and your sister in a way that you’ll understand, especially because there are so many things for you to think about here in Houston. We have Christmas coming up, so all this moving stuff seems like an afterthought — just something to use the fun presents you’ll be getting, and not really an end in itself. But we are moving. Next month will find us half the world away from here, and I am really struggling to picture what our new life could possibly look like. Where will you crawl? (everywhere, that should be the least of my worries). Who will watch you during the day? (a much more substantive worry). How many diapers can we smuggle over in our sea freight shipment? (I hope I can push the limits with this one, rather than buy expensive imported Pampers in Singapore). It’s just a bit too much for me, when all I really want to be doing right now is drinking some cocoa and watching you play sweetly with your sister on the floor.
Now you can click through to Davina’s letter to her child here