Perpetual LIfe

Sleep has unfortunately become a complicated issue at our house with Henry's recent discovery that he is a big enough, strong enough, clever enough boy to climb out of his crib! He made his first escape on Friday night. It's terrifying to watch. As the semi-neurotic mother, (shout out to Anne,) it is my responsibility to have morbid imaginations about the possibilities of injury--catching his lip or chipping a tooth on the dismount--but he's probably jumped out of the crib 45 times now and it never seems to cause an ounce of pain. The painful part is that upon emerging triumphantly from his bedroom, hopes of extended waking hours are promptly shattered as mom or dad put the kibosh on the bedtime shenanigans and promptly redeposit him into the crib. The cycle repeats at least a half dozen times until he is at last too tired to repeat the night time mutiny and finally surrenders to sleep.

Ironically enough, I feel like the fates warned me of the impending acrobatic feat because while I was at IKEA with my friend Elizabeth on Friday morning, I was unusually aware of the toddler beds, wondering when we'd need to transition Henry into one, thinking they were so cute and miniature, feeling a sudden burst of angst about what would happen to the two hours formerly known as naptime in a bed with no restraints, but quickly dismissing the thoughts as I gratefully remembered that he hadn't yet figured out how to escape the confines of the crib. It was an omen, I'm sure of it; Henry hurled himself over the rail of the crib that very night.

On a brighter note, I've had some very fortunate finds at the Goodwill lately. I went hoping to find an Easter dress yesterday. The failed EasterDressFindingMission culminated in front of the dressing room mirror when I found myself scrutinizing (go with me here,) a chambray blue, ankle-length, awkward-sleeved, pockets on both breasts, tie at the waist, button all the way down the front, FROCK! because it was only $12. And it was Isaac Mizrahi--and he's swanky, right? I wanted a dress so badly that I was trying to deny the undeniable reality that I very nearly resembled one of Warren Jeffs' (gag!) wives, thinking that perhaps a hat and some crisp white slides would make for a chic ensemble. (Please allow me to make a very clear disclaimer that Warren Jeffs and any group practicing polygamy are in no way affiliated with or sanctioned by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (the Mormons.)) I wish I could supply a picture from the dressing room; whatever you're imagining--it was worse. I assure you. Fortunately, I came to my fashion senses and left the store with these botanical plates which add just the right ceramic dynamic to the "gallery wall" in our dining room. For $3.20, I couldn't be more pleased with the purchase. I also got these shoes, though the credit for this find should go to my sister, Kate, as she's the one who found them. I thought they were cute when I bought them, but I knew they were cool when I reeled in a few compliments from the fourteen to sixteen year old fashionistas that I work with at church. The girls thought I was neat for about seven seconds until they asked what we did for Easter and I had to tell them the sad truth that we did nothing in the way of conventional celebration. We didn't have a basket or a bunny or a marshmallow peep or an egg, (plastic or chicken--fresh out of both.) I'm not against conventional celebrations, not at all. I'm just a bit lazy and, as evidenced by the fact that I was looking for an Easter dress the day before Easter, I have a terrible tendency toward procrastination and am consequently unprepared on many occasions.

But let it be known that I love Easter. I love what we're celebrating, though it's easy to forget with so many pastel colored distractions. I love the possibilities of perpetual life that exist because of One Perfect Life; I love those possibilities because I love the life I'm in right now. Happy Easter.