truth: 1

My almost-five-month-old son has had a terrible case of eczema, combined with another general rash, for weeks now. I hesitate to kiss his raw cheeks. Sometimes I'm embarrassed by the unsightliness of the redness. I loathe the smell of the Vaseline that covers him, and how it is systematically ruining any fabric his little head touches.

But. He smiles at every doctor we have seen for this. Every nurse. Every receptionist. They are astounded at how gleeful this little boy is, in spite of his misery and discomfort.

Have I got a lot to learn.

Little L at Christmastime, before stuff got real.

by way of introduction.

I started this blog because I couldn’t stop looking at blogs: the perfectly framed photographs, the wittiness, the beguiling daily ephemera of strangers’ lives. Eventually, I decided I wanted to be less of an observer, more of a participant. I also realized that being a voyeur of others’ lives was making me less content with my own.

So starting this space is an act of accountability with myself, to make me pay attention to the daily ephemera of my own little life—all manner of thing in that life, be it delightful, mundane, or horrifying—and to try to love it appropriately. Anyone reading, hold me to it. Thanks.

- klj