Cereal and Raspberries

Paudie started on solid food this week. The term solid is actually a bit of a misnomer since his rice cereal resembles a drink, one that would be much more efficiently ingested via a straw than a tiny spoon. But the experts say that in the beginning, it's all about the eating experience for a baby and not so much actual digestion. Because he actually isn't digesting his cereal. Because it is hard to digest food that is smeared on your face, hands, bib, high chair and so on. All in all he seems to really dig the experience - sitting up high and straight, the attention, the ridiculous voices and noises we employ to try to get him to open his mouth.

In other firsts... Paudie has been spending considerable time trying to make the raspberry noise. He gets rather hung up on it at certain times. I think it's extremely cute, his eagerness to perfect the raspberry. I hope to capture it on tape and post. We've also managed to figure out how to make him giggle this hearty, joyous giggle that is just too damn precious for words. Everytime we try to tape it he's all, nah. No giggle for you. Maybe later. I'll let y'all know.

Now for a little introspection.

I'd like to say I'm only 35, but I don't think the word 'only' really works that well in front of my age anymore. So I'll just say I'm 35, dammit. I'm 35 and feeling totally lost beyond my role as Paudie's ma. I find myself wondering - what the hell am I doing - at least hourly since I returned back to work. Yesterday I learned that Dr. Judah Folkman died - he was a prominant cancer researcher at Children's Hospital Boston where our son was treated for his cancer. I never met the good doctor, but was made aware of his work from other NB (neureoblastoma) families. He had taken an interest in NB and thought his work, something called angiogenesis, could play a major role in treating children with the horrid disease. He was once referred to as the man that just might cure cancer. Pretty amazing stuff he did - think of the legacy he is leaving, the impact, the inspiration. It all just makes me think - again - what am I doing? Shouldn't I be doing something that matters or something that I really love - at least one or the other. Instead I'm stuck in between. (insert raspberry wav file).

Some days I feel that my perspective as a bereaved parent has paralyzed me and not had the motivating effect that so many life changing events seemingly can. Perhaps it is something that will come with time.