it was a good friday

All Fridays are good, in my opinion. But Christopher got off work early yesterday and we went downtown for a capital-Good Friday choral meditation at the Cathedral of the Madeleine.

We arrived early enough to watch the choir walk in before they disappeared behind the screen up front. I had missed the memo that it was a children's choir. Like small children.

Also missed the memo that they would sound perfect and other-worldly. Third graders are not supposed to sound like that. In third grade, I learned to play "Hot Cross Buns" on the recorder.

Our own little one wanted to join them. As soon as the singing began, she started her own little croon. And the acoustics in there are just as amazing for the congregation as they are for the choir. Her goos weren't particularly loud, but I knew that as soon as she realized the echo going on in there, she would let loose.

Also, I worried about her noise when I didn't hear a single peep from any other kid in there (besides the angels up front). Do Catholics know a secret for keeping their kids quiet that Mormons don't?

She didn't make it through the whole thing and we had to leave early. But we didn't mind. There was just something Good about walking around downtown on a spring afternoon with a one-year-old who wasn't embarrassed or nervous for one second about reaching her arms up to a vaulted cathedral ceiling and singing, "Oooh, oooooooh."

we're all growing up: an update

I swear baby girl grew up during her nap today—like she was a baby when I tucked her in and two hours later, she was taller, older: a little girl.

I'm not nostalgic (she's not THAT grown up: she doesn't walk yet and hasn't yet mastered the physics of spoons). I'm just realizing that every day is a serious gift.

We're trying to take advantage of those gifts in our own ways. A quick update:

Our not-so-baby girl recently conquered an ear infection and her fear of strangers while expanding her sign language vocabulary and capacity for at-home destruction.

Her dad sold his Xbox and used his freed-up time to start two new blogs, study for the GRE, and take up Arabic classes again.

Her mom wrote drafts of two new stories, read six books this month, and had a tickle-fest this afternoon with a certain baby who grew up so much during her nap that she can now put on her own sunglasses, thank you very much.

We're excited she's growing. We just hope she doesn't grow up so fast that she's a teenager by tomorrow morning.

sometimes i'm a lazy copycat

Between ear infections (baby girl's) and laziness (mine), our little blog has been neglected. Lots of things are going on, but I'm not sure how much or how little you want to hear, as I'm now one of those people who thinks too often about the regularity and consistency of someone else's poop.
While I think on that and figure out what I'm doing, I'll leave you with this great idea I copy-catted from my cousin: a 52-photo book. 

It's easy to take lots of baby pictures, but mom and dad sometimes don't make it into the frame. So, for the last year, I've made sure we take at least one picture of our baby girl with her mom or dad—ideally, some photos of both—every single week. I printed out my favorites (ended up as 200, not 52) and put them in a book that documents her first year with all three of us together. And now I'm in the habit of taking pictures of the family, not just her. Instead of posting all 200 here, I'll opt for two favorites:

Yeah, I'll probably just keep blogging about that girl. Even her poop is the cutest.