Writer’s block is a funny thing. Whenever I come down with an especially paralyzing case, I usually end up funneling creative juices into something else. In this case, I made a movie. (I also painted and redecorated our bedroom, but that was because I was inspired by how AWESOME the king’s lair, ie: The Baby Cave, turned out.)
For Henry at two months is a compilation of short video clips shot in the weeks before and after Henry’s birth. It illustrates everything I’ve struggled to articulate lately.
It’s 12 minutes long, which might seem ridiculous given that Henry can’t sit, speak or crawl. Yet with the proper music and edits, the seemingly mundane life of a newborn suddenly becomes much more enchanting.
You might be asking yourself how shitty diapers and curdled puke could possibly be enchanting.
Well, I’m here to tell you the magic happens in the breakthroughs in between; in the moments of joyful firsts and simple (yet herculean) milestones that sneak up on you when you’re knee-deep in life-altering muck. They make the diapers, vomit and sleep deprivation all worth it. You hear parents utter this nonsense all the time. Now that I’m a parent I can tell you it’s clichéd, but true.
My baby giggled today for the first time. It happened while I was playing THIS movie for him. We were dancing to the last song, an infectious little ditty by Lykke Li called Dance, Dance, Dance.
His giggle was so adorable it didn’t sound real.
“Henry!” I squealed. “You found your laugh!”
I was hoping he’d do it again, but no amount of prompting seemed to spark another one. I guess I’ll just have to wait for it to occur as it occurred the first time: organically and delightfully without warning.
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PS. The shot of me dancing was taken during a senior citizen pool party at my grandparent’s mobile home park in Nokomis, Fla. Talk about fortuitous sunbathing! You can thank Joe for capturing it.
PPS. Music by Norah Jones (Man of the Hour), Grizzly Bear (Two Weeks), Scott Matthews (Eyes Wider Than Before), Van Morrison (They Sold Me Out) and Lykke Li (Dance, Dance, Dance)
