Still working on getting pictures on the blog.

We arrived Saturday noonish and found we’d chosen the same weekend as the San Diego Rock’n’roll marathon–and now we knew why the flights were crowded and expensive and how lucky we’d been to get a hotel reservation.

Hudson was waking up several times a night and a tired Parker at about the light of dawn with the transition to summertime brightness, so, giving them all bedtime and waking up times to themselves as they’re adjusting to the new baby was the way to go.

Sunday was the blessing of the baby, our christening ceremony, and afterwards, a luncheon at Kim’s folks’ that was a small family reunion on their side. I so love these good people. I chatted with one of her uncles who did not know I had known his father so well, and as we talked, he showed me the ring he wore that his namesake father’s father had had. Inscribed in it was the date of the Titanic (setting sail, I think, rather than sinking).

I’ve mentioned before, but, his grandfather/my grandsons’ great-great grandfather had had a ticket to be on that ship but had ditched the trip because one of his fellow Mormon missionaries he was going to return home to the States with was too sick to go, and the grandfather, being the one who’d booked the tickets, refused to make the one man travel alone later. Everybody was going together, he said; they could wait. Even if it meant they would miss out on the much-hyped trip of a lifetime.

Al wore on his hand that reminder of how much everything, including his own and his extended family’s very existence, depends on the things that always seem at the time to be such small gestures of kindness. Never let a chance to do right by others pass unseen.

Hudson at seven and a half weeks was struggling mightily to learn to smile back at will and caught me by surprise when he giggled a one-syllable laugh with a big brief smile as we held each other in our eyes with him in my arms. Oh wow!

Parker’s favorite blankie now is the Malabrigo Rios one I made at his birth. He has carefully worked his way into the stitches to make several gaps–nothing broken, just gaps–big enough for him to wave hi at us through. Peekaboo!

As we came past airport security last night, a young man was taking the stairs next to us  as we rode the escalator–lifting each step ever so carefully but clearly painfully but determined to keep on going and not take the easy way out, not now, not after all this. He was wearing a t-shirt: Finisher (and then the name of the marathon.)

I looked over at him as our escalator took us on up slightly faster than he was going. “Congratulations!”

The biggest grin spread over his face along with his thanks in return. I think he forgot his pain in that moment.

Parker, meantime, had learned to look for purple flowers on trees with me (the jacarandas were in bloom), and we saw several as we were on our way to that airport. He cried mightily as we got out of the car and hugged him and his daddy goodbye: he wanted to come airpane too.

Soon as we can, little guy, as soon as we all can.