Howdy,
Remember, Happy New Year’s!?
Doesn’t it seem like 2017 just started?
And tomorrow is … March.
And, obviously — so obvious that it’s hard here to even make a joke or try to go light like it’s cute — I’m not simply talking about the year marching on. It’s actually the month of March already. 2017.
Wow.
At least to me.
Now, as I started to think about it, at first, I was quickly coming to the conclusion that I’m totally okay with the morning being March. From the perspective that February would be over, that is.
If you’ve been following along on billyhawes.com, first, thank you, and, second, you may have had a guess that I wouldn’t be stretching and clawing to keep February around. I mean the way the month started and looked to be ending were bookends of a terrible month.
Highlights, um, more like notable points, springing to mind fastest mostly centered on doctor visits for the boys — in person (on multiple occasions) and via online video chat appointment — high fevers, missing events, and (a theme that’s received much too much run lately) runny noses.
Snot everywhere.
Speaking of snot. And everywhere …
There was also diarrhea (lots and lots of diarrhea, for days), unusual spit-up/barfing/vomiting, and lack of eating or drinking by the infant (unsettling, to say the least [something I’m always trying to get better at — even if it doesn’t appear so]).
In fact, reflecting on the first week of February, I thought I had worked it through and found the right words or phrase for it: I was calling the start of February about the hardest stretch of days I could remember in over a decade that didn’t include an actual tragedy.
That was the key idea, that there was no actual tragedy. As I was trying to explain the circumstances or communicate clearly as a writer the struggle I did not want to lose sight of the fact that many people go through much more truly trying and consequential events of actual devastation and loss.
I didn’t want to come off as insensitive to that, horrendous affliction, or simply seem like I was whining about stuff because it was “hard.”
In the middle of it, though, I will just say that it was an exhausting and the moments of the days picked up speed, going and going, faster and faster, racing and racing. Crazy.
Oh, and another reason I didn’t talk too much more about how hard I’d had it, someone I know totally had me topped when I was just coming out of it and tempting to maybe seek some sympathy. I was feeling for him.
I knew his pain, but I was feeling for him …
As I was thinking about February (back to the idea started at the top), HOWEVER, I realized I didn’t want to vaporized the whole month. Too many good things happened. Life, and the fact that our days, our months, are our lives (some times being much better than others! But still …)
I scanned through my list of posts, and, I mean, #NationalPizzaDay … Come on! Who would want to miss that?
Even more important than pizza — What? I know, right? — I thought about our youngest little guy, Riah Surf. March is coming, and right as it starts, on the 5th, he’ll be nine months old already. So I wouldn’t discard February 2017; I couldn’t, not Riah’s eighth month of exponentially growing, expanding, life.
Seriously, (even struggling mightily in the beginning of the month) so much happened for him this month. He’s eating so many more foods (diarrhea and then constipation will bring that variety of dishes into a diet). His humor and playfulness continue to come out more — and make us wonder how much of a third child he’s going to be …?
Riah’s smile and giggling laugh and sweet and alert disposition remain and gain refined nuance.
Even with all that and more he’s adding to his repertoire, I’d say what thriving development sticks out most to me for Riah from February is his movement! You should see our little Surf cruise. He’ll still roll if he has to or wants, I guess, but his belly-crawl game is strong.
I’m telling you, if something even remotely like a choking hazard falls from an older brother at the table, Riah rushes into full sprint and displays an impressive dexterity of fingers and a constant motor skill of hand to mouth.
Riah is on the move — and it’s so hard not to write something about his bodysurfing the cork floor or looking like he’s paddling quickly to catch a gnarly wave about to roll down the hallway.
But, that’d be lame, and Surf is cool.
As I said, I’m totally okay with tomorrow morn being March. Not because I still harbor resentment against February, though, but because that’s the way it is. A little hard to believe. But time goes jogging on …
Jogging and jostling.
Continuous as the … ocean’s waves.
Grab a board! Summer’s coming.
Merry Christmas! (Too soon. Sorry.)
Whoa, Nelly! It’s only March.
See, don’t you feel better?
It’s only March.
And that’s not even ’til tomorrow.
Good night.
—Billy
Reading. Writing. Living.
P.S. Yeah … maybe I don’t always write “to say the least.” I’ll try to get back on that horse. That runaway horse.
Word Count: 74,595 / On Pace: 74,250 / Year’s Goal: 200,000
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