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Thursday, June 25, 2020

Blueberry Yogurt

He loves everything blueberry. 

Never mind that his little 2-year-old self is capable of demolishing a pint of blueberries in a single sitting. When blueberries collide with that other love of his - yogurt - he's in gastronomical heaven. 

"Mmmm... mom, booberries!"

Andrew was born a few months after I turned 40. I never realized my life was missing this rambunctious, affectionate, funny, adorable, clever, blue-eyed kid with a mop of curly blond hair - but here he is! He has an birthmark, a stork's bite really, on his forehead, shaped like a heart. When he was born, it was deep and purple, almost like someone had smeared blueberries on his forehead, and on his eyelids, and down the back of his neck and even spilled onto his back and shoulders. The midwife declared it was bruising from the birthing process, but it became clear after a week or two it wasn't going anywhere. It would be a  part of him, part of my beautiful Andrew.

Now, on the cusp of two and half, it's no longer purple but a increasingly lighter red. However, it's still prominent and highly visible; the other children who had stork's bites had their decoration fade long before, but his continues. Because of his fair complexion, it may never go away. It worries me (will he get teased as he gets older? will it effect his self-image?) but it also endears him - it is simply Andrew. 

My blueberry-loving baby.


Wednesday, June 24, 2020

A Post About Nothing Redux

Hi.

I'm back.

Queue dramatic music

I really don't have a lot of say, except I've decided to write.

Yep, heard that one before

Seriously, I want to write.

Uh huh... you mean for more than five minutes? 

Yes, I mean more than five minutes. Sheesh.


I want to try something. I'm going to try posting something every day for 30 days. I thought about starting a new blog to do it, but let's face it: I'm lazy and don't want to when I have a perfectly neglected blog just sitting here waiting to be posted on. 

Maybe it's restlessness from this whole COVID thing. Maybe it's being on a the cusp of a transition in my life, being 42 and realizing there's lots of dream left undone (can you say mid-life crisis?). Maybe it's just a need for intellectual stimulation and trying to keep away from stupid com boxes.

Ready? Set....