in which Remy loves to be outside, which reminds his mother...

My heart has grown a few inches in gratitude since Mr. Remy has come around. The other night I actually found myself lying awake at 2 a.m. hoping that I would hear him crying so that I could go and get him and bring him into our bed, even though I pretend like I am a tough mom who thinks it's important for kids to stay in their own beds (I don't actually believe that constitutes a tough mom, if you are associating tough with not nice). I am grateful to that tiny boy for a lot of things, but most recently, I am grateful that he has reminded me to be outside. I realize that I am a doting mother, and doting mothers tend to capitalize on any movement or motion that indicates that their child may have a preference or quirk. My sister-in-law told me that one time she and several family members were convinced to say 'sweater' very enthusiastically, over and over to a 7-month old that never performed the promised trick she was supposed to when the word 'sweater' was said to her.

I therefore realize that what I am about to say may be more mother-induced prodigy, but Remy loves to be outside, more than your average little cub. We spend copious amounts of time through the front door and into the wilds of our neighborhood each day. Remy doesn't mind if it is sweltering or a bit chilly. He doesn't even mind if the grass is wet, or if a bug lands on his head, or if the water we dip his little feet into at the runoff in Rock Canyon Park is dazzlingly cold. Sometimes it feels like there is a little switch that immediately stops any fussing as soon as we step foot out the door. I am a doting mother, but I was also skeptical that what we were experiencing were more than normal three-month old things, so I've tested my theory that Remy has an actual and strong preference and love for the outdoors, over the past few weeks, and I believe I am right. My little son finds great peace and happiness in the outdoors.

Just tonight he was arching his back and fussing in our living room so we went and walked around our neighborhood for an hour. We looked at ripening cherries, wet lavender, we sat under a tree, and Remy pulled the petal off a snapdragon in the front yard. The whole time he didn't make so much as a peep. I'm grateful for his persistence in wanting to explore the world outside of the house, as if he knows that he came here to see some pretty spectacular things, and who am I to stop him. Now days we plan our day around how we can maximize our outdoors time. I've been reminded a tree, a sky, clouds, grass, dirt, secret places that we pass everyday in our cars are more than dear to me, they are the things that grew me up. I will end with a quote from a book that Carl and I have been reading, Last Child in the Woods. The quote is thanks to one good Walt Whitman,

There was a child went forth every day, and the first object he look'd upon, that object he became, and that object became part of him for the day or a certain part of the day, or for many years or stretching cycle of years. The early lilacs became part of this child, and grass and white and red morning glories, and white and red clover, and the song of the phoebe-bird..."