I discovered recently that not everyone dyes their milk pink for Valentine’s Day, or green for St. Patrick’s Day. This baffles me. Excluding those with dye allergies, why wouldn’t you?
I’m a big fan of celebrations. For big things, I know how to make a BIG fuss… but I like to make a BIG fuss for little things too.
Each year in my classroom I read the kiddos Byrd Baylor’s I’m in Charge of Celebrations because I love the narrator’s mentality of searching out the extraordinary in the ordinary and finding a way to honor it.
With writing I honor the start of each new project by buying a set of my favorite pens – Staedtler Triplus Fineliners. And don’t forget about Revision Skittles — they’re a tiny celebration for every page completed.
Babies are made for celebrating. Everything they do is miraculous; they are snuggle-sized bundles of magic and love. And each day they grow, learn and change. If I don’t stop and celebrate their discoveries as they happen, it will be too late.
So St. Matt expects the phone calls at work:
Today Asher cooed at the ceiling fan.
Brad just rolled over onto his side – twice!
Oh my head, Brad’s learned how to smile, and he hasn’t stopped doing it all day.
Did you get the pictures?
When I sing Twinkle Twinkle to Asher and twinkle my hands, he twinkles back.
Guess what?! I was burping Brad, and every time I patted his back, his wee little hand patted mine.
We celebrate the ounces they gain and the clothing they outgrow. St. Matt celebrates when they sleep through the night… I mostly want to wake them up and cuddle.
And today we celebrate something momentous – they are 100 days old.
I know that celebrating a baby’s 100th day is a Korean and Chinese tradition, but I’m borrowing it. These past 100 days have been filled with more love and happiness than I have any right to deserve, but they’ve also been tinged with some terrifying moments too.
The twins were two months early. They were little. They both had trouble breathing. And maintaining steady heart rates. They spent their first month in the NICU. They’re both still on apnea monitors that go off with heart-shattering regularity and send St. Matt and I flying across the room to check for color changes and chest movement.
That first month left some physical scars on them and emotional ones on me.
It’s not possible to gaze through the Plexiglas of an isolette at the mess of gauze, tubes, wires, sensors and bandages covering your newborn and walk away whole.
After just looking at those pictures and writing those words I had to wake little Brad up, snuggle him close, and reassure myself that he’s nearly tripled in size and is thriving.
So today, we will celebrate. 100 days. They may be little, but it’s no small accomplishment.
We’ll celebrate then, too.