Happy 2nd Month Birthday, Colin!

 Colin's 2nd Month photo

I'm in love with our dear Colin!  He is such a cuddly, sweet boy, and a wonderful baby.

Unfortunately, because of the fire, we will never have a one-month rocker photo for him.  I intended to take that photo the week of the fire.

C's new rocker- it matches perfectly with his bedding.

The outfit is one that we lost in the fire, but I bought a new one.  I have high hopes that we'll have little grandsons who can wear it one day.

 Oh my, oh no, is that a bit of red in the hair mommy and daddy see?!

He resembles his brother, but lighter complexion, less hair/different hair line, mommy's nose, and longer limbs.  I'm so excited to watch them grow and see all their differences and similarities.

I'm just in love with our two precious boys!!!!!

 Little toesies.

 Oh my goodness, has dear Colin become a bit of a flirt!

His smile is so contagious- it encompasses his whole face, and his eyes smile just like his daddy's.

 I love the little stretches.

 He's got the whole world in his hands...

 This little one came into our world right before one of the most trying times in our lives, and it is an incredible blessing that he arrived a week early, and not two weeks later. 

I'm so glad that he is such an easy baby- he has given me the time to spend with his big brother to help him adapt to all the changes not only just as a growing family, but also through all this heartache.   I look at him and I realize that he is too young to even know the home he came to from the hospital.  All he knows is that home is where Mommy & Daddy are, and that he is taken care of, and cherished.  And, I realize that this is all anyone needs to feel 'at home'.

For Better or For Worse....

 ...We will always have each other.

We enjoyed the sunset on Lighthouse Beach in Evanston where we had our ceremony four years ago.

A picture of the lighthouse hung in our downstairs bath.

I've already contacted the photographer for a replacement. 

 The gorgeous art center.

For our ceremony we scooped up sand and poured a little for each attendant in a votive.  Each anniversary since we collected a little to add to our coffee table candle vase. 

This is the start to a new vase for all the years ahead.
This was our anniversary gift to each other-- just about as sweet as it gets.
The poem in the frame is the one from the fire (mentioned in the post below).  It will be on a shelf in our new living room.

And we wined & dined once again at The Stained Glass.

Our wedding napkins survived, and I've always taken a couple with us to still enjoy.

Some things will always remain- one of those being our love for each other.

Pics of ALL that matters

My comfort, joy & hope:

 My boys.  I pulled C's outfit and E's shirt from the washing machine a week after the fire.  E's shirt brings me so many memories.

 As for E's 1st month birthday, I took C's pic just the same.

I'm trying to capture all the moments I want to remember- for they are fleeting.

I'm devastated that we no longer have E's glider rocker to take C's monthly pictures like I had intended to.  It breaks my heart, but I hope it is something we can acquire soon.

Knowing that we still have both of our boys to cuddle with...
This pic reminds me so much of B cuddling with E during his first week of life.

 Just trying cherish all of Baby C.

My aunt sent this cute little romper for a welcoming gift and we had looked so forward to seeing him in it.  She bought him a new one, and it brings me so much happiness to have him wear it yet.

 We bought the boys their nursery bedding sets.  It is more of an emotional thing for B&I than anything else.  We adored their nurseries and had picked out everything together.  Both of the boys have received hand-me-down convertible cribs from our friend's two sweet girls.  Just they are not their cribs....

Notice E has a new Teddy (which he instantly loved) and we've replaced his favorite night-time books, but they just don't have the sweet notes of those that had given them to him.

 It's obvious that E loves his 'new' bed and he's pretty comfortable in it.

It made B&I cry to see him happy with another bed and to see him remember his nautical bedding.

Just it doesn't have his sweet baby smell and wear to it.......

 E has been fully entertained at Grandmom's: toys galore, play patio, spacious yard, swimming pool, and a kiddie pool.  We've tried to keep him entertained as much as possible: cousins's baseball games, memorial day parade, inflatable bouncer, swimming, playgrounds, playdates with his little cousin.  About the second day, I was outside with him and it broke my heart when I saw him standing by himself, arm linked around the basketball hoop, just staring off.  One of my biggest fears is that this dramatic change will affect his amazing personality- and I'm just trying to do all I can to make sure that all of this makes him even more resilient and that he finds happiness and determination no matter what life presents...

 ....this smile tells me that he can pretty much adapt to any circumstance.

 I had just ordered these sandals from CP right before the fire.

The mailman still delivered the box to our burnt-out house.

A new perspective.

The Fire- What remains

B & I went back to the house on the 26th, a week after the fire took basically all of our material possessions.  As I walked around the gated exterior this was the only thing I saw laying on the ground just outside of the fence- just the wet page, edges charred, the text still visible, and its meaning immense.  It was from an old book of one of my favorite poets, Pablo Neruda, and it made my tears flow for the first time since the fire happened.   This is what it reads in English:

Lament
Las manos del dia/The Hands of the Day by Pablo Neruda

A man says:  I suffered awful things in the street:
I walked without seeing, endured absence in presence,
extinction without being born, estrangement,
the hostile eyes of the bypasser.

The man keeps complaining:
that he hates the day-in-day-out of his work,
hates the sweat-for-your-dollar, that dreary vendetta,
the rich hate their gold clothing, the colonel, his sidearms,
the poor, their sore feet, the drummer, his heavy valises,
the waiter , the impeccable knot in his tie,
the teller, his cage, the gendarme his uniform,
the nun hates her convent, the green-grocer, his oranges,
the butcher, his meat, the druggist,
the smell of the pharmacy, the whore, her profession
--so says the man on the run
in the watery walks of his hatred, cramming
the street with his footsteps,
rapid, insatiable, equivocal, bitter,
as if the world's weight pressed on his shoulders
its invisible hardware of losses.

Each bypasser says: see,
the brave man reneged on his bravery,
the beauty complained that her ankles were ugly,
the fireman hated the water that put out the fire--
till the city becomes on great gnashing of weeds in the ocean,
a suburban wringing of hands,
a seething morass in the waste of the sea
and no man knows he is weeping.