meaning of the word joy

When it comes to what is “appropriate” with babies – I’ve found all bets are off. Things that normally are acceptable are not any more, and things that were inappropriate now induce little surprise. For one, if you’re under the age of one you can leave the house without pants on.

And no one notices.

On the other hand, Bolero is not the type of slow-tempo music you want playing the first time you try your baby on solids.

Especially if its Ravel’s.

I’ve been living in this realm of appropriate vs. inappropriate and it is quite enlightening. For one, I’ve seen the promos for “Raising Hope” and I’m convinced there’s a hidden camera in the house which is recording fodder for the new series.
This is probably in the inappropriate column.

On the appropriate side is this odd “replay” button of homilies I’ve heard. I find them creeping up into my daily life even though I listened to them years ago.


One, was on the word Joy (in John). I remember the priest saying the word Joy is one which has a reputation of delight. Which isn’t always true. Joy, he explained, is this raw feeling which comes from anxiety, love, sadness, spirit and elation.

There is this quiet joy with Henry and Sophia – and one which I can’t put my finger on. But what I think is so magical about it is their inability to be a certain word. While I believe its good to talk to babies, I do not believe they understand what I’m saying.

And this is a good thing.

Not that I use their attention to sound off profanities or anything, but more that they are little nutshells of human emotion without knowing what the matching word is.
If I say “be joyful” they don’t know how to act it – they just are.

And this period won't last forever. As they start to learn how language works, this will fade. One of the many things I learned in lit crit is that, for all its positives, language has a heartbreaking quality sometimes.
I have a suspicion that this post makes no sense. Which is just fine.

Just know that my family gives me joy.
Whether its appropriate or not.

what happens in half a year -

- a lot.
And a little.

Half a year ago, Earth was on the other side of the Sun. My grandmother told me I looked like "Mount Vesuvius" (I didn't know she even spoke Italian). It was cold. And Henry and Sophia debuted.

Giving us two more reasons to smile.

Apparently today something magical was supposed to happen. The six month mark! I waited, camera in hand to catch it.

Nothing did.

Tomorrow they can start food. Or at least cereal. And drink water. They also can wear bug spray.

And can be shot out of a cannon (so I hear).



They've come a long way. As have their parents. I have become progressively more anti-baby guides. I looked up 'sense of humor' in the index to one today. And it wasn't even there.

That should tell you something. My two are loaded with it - which is why I like this picture - it captures them. Miss-Sophia-deadpan. And my-name-comes-with-an-exclamation-point-Henry.

Now, six months later the bottoms of my feet are filthy. I stink of sunscreen and am sitting on clover. Its summer. I love this season – and this time I am enjoying it considering I rip-van-winkled it last year.

And this year I have to keep the bottoms of six feet clean. And for the record, yes, I like to keep my kids arranged in birth-order.



We use the stroller several times a day. They are too long now (and too uncomfortable) to sit in their car seats in the stroller. So now they are strapped in! Very exciting.

Sophia-sophisticado with mom's sunglasses.



Ham Henry sampling everything he can put into his mouth (including himself).





Honestly, do you have any idea how hard it is to get two babies to smile at you at the same time?



With these two, not very.