Writing Prompt: A Snapshot

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Those Teeny Hands

Little dude is curious. His little hands reach for everything, and everything they grab moves right into his mouth. His very watery, drooly, teething baby mouth. Sometimes he stops playing and notices his hands. He holds them in front of his face, turns them over, wiggles his fingers. Pulls on one hand with the other. Then, suddenly bored, he slaps his hands against his thighs and starts singing.

At this stage in life, it isn't even accurate to say that time is flying. Life is moving so quickly I barely even register the moments before they're gone. I cannot keep up.

Just wait until he's crawling!

Wait until he can walk--then you'll really be in trouble!

My little man cannot do either of these exciting things yet, but I've been duly warned of the chaos I can expect when he masters the ability to move on his own. He is a very active baby, and certainly wants to be able to get up and go, no help from Momma. So, while it lasts, here are some things I'm relishing about these moments when so much remains beyond his grasp.


We can leave things laying about the house, without worrying about him grabbing:

  • Dad's headphones, all four pairs of them, strewn about.
  • The dog's toys. All the dog's toys. Though she will love the day she can play tug-of-war with him.
  • Glasses of tea, glasses of water, glasses of wine.
  • Mom's heavy reference books, stacked on tables and chairs.
  • Cords. Cords for everything. Everything has a cord.

He hasn't discovered the fun of pulling all his clean socks out of his dresser and throwing them on the floor.

But, the socks on his feet are fair game. So those never last more than a few minutes.

Often the nearest things within reach are Mom & Dad's hands. So we get to enjoy the heartwarming tug of our son holding on with everything he's got quite often. I know these days are numbered: Momma's hands have nothing on the exciting dog toys he can't yet get to.

But sometimes, the nearest thing is Momma's hair. Ouch. 

Sometimes, though. Sometimes those little hands grab onto our ears and pull us in close for a long, sloppy kiss on the cheek (or chin, or nose...he's working on his aim) while he's singing. They're sneak-attack kisses, never predictable, always welcomed. <3

The Quiet Hours

They do exist, believe it or not. There are moments in the day where the house falls silent. The dog leaves her post at the window and picks up her bone, satisfied that the threats have been scared off. The baby sleeps deeply. These are the moments to pounce on "work." I find that I am most productive in the early morning hours and late evening. This stage of life is quite full during the daylight hours. Full of everything. Of squeaks and giggles, barks and wrestling. Of errands and cooking. Housework and conversation. Frustrations and milestones. It looks like life, sounds like life, feels like life. It is good.

However, some work must be done in order to support all this living. It's rather difficult to work or create in the midst of all of these moments. So I bide my time until peace descends. Keep mental notes and handwritten ones. And then, I work. I don't always feel that I have enough time to accomplish what I'd like to, or to calmly weigh options for days as I once could. 

I gather my tea, my m&ms, and my slippers. I boot up my laptop and soak in the steam from the tea as I wait for the blinking place-holder line to appear in Word. At times, there are empty pages to fill. More often, there are full pages to screen, searching out homophones and typos. Preventing technicalities from ruining the essence of a piece. 

I don't merely "work for the weekend," usually. I love my work and it fuels me throughout the day. Writing and editing for myself or editing for others keeps me engaged in the world beyond my small circle of home, friends, and family. It keeps me learning, researching, fighting to make a difference in the world.

That's what writing does. The written word can change the world. It does so quite often.