She walks. She’s found her voice and she babbles. She giggles. She smiles with her whole face. She frowns with her whole face. She brushes her hair. She hands you things. She points. She knows where her nose is. She eats plums whole. She is 11 months old.
We are coming up on her first birthday, followed basically immediately by our 5th wedding anniversary. And much like most other nights of our lives, the theatre is getting in the way of our celebration. Shelby is directing a show that just happens to open that same weekend so we can’t go away. We thought about getting a hotel room in town and letting someone else clean up after us, going out for dinner, enjoying a pool or hot tub and definitely the whirlpool tub, but I don’t think that is going to happen.
This is part of our love/hate relationship with theatre. The reward you get for being a part of a performance, the audience, the 6 week intense friendships, the sense of accomplishment, belonging, and being a part of something great rolled up with the complete destruction of personal time. There are no plans we can make without consulting the theatre calendar. And with the wee one, there are sometimes easy, sometimes intense negotiations on how free time is spent.
Hannah is adorable and exhausting. Her current favorite games include: take everything off the shelf; take everything out of the closet; drop spoons and see how many times mommy or daddy will pick them up; spin the swivel chairs in circles; pull hair; shove fingers into any face hole (I’m not kidding, she totally sticks her fingers in our noses, eyes, ears, mouths, and digs as hard as she can before we can get her tiny little death nails out); stand on the rocking chair and shake it; climb on the couch and try to jump off; and our personal favorite – chase the cat and cry when he runs away from the crazy tiny flappy human.
And that’s all i can muster today. This pathetically disjointed rambling. Enjoy!