The Silence is Deafening

As I sit staring out at a cold, grey sky, I realize that I can't hear a sound that has become so familiar to my life. I could pick this sound out of a crowd of thousands. Eli's voice.

Erik and I plopped Eli in the van of his Papa Paul and Abuelita, kissed him goodbye, and drove away for an overnight stay at the shopping mecca, Ikea (more on that later). So here I am in the living room of our hotel, using up their free high-speed internet while Erik naps (another luxury that we can rarely do with Eli around).

The hum of the mini-fridge seems to overpower the room but I don't really want to listen. I would rather hear, "Mama? Where mama?" or "I can't see birrrrrds" or "I coldddd" or his newest word "Chee-burr-burr." Oh I remember the days when all I wanted was some quiet. And I still love the quiet. But I also love the little high-pitched voice of my cherub, even when he screeches so loud I'm sure my eardrums will break. Will I ever get the sound of his voice out of my head? I doubt it. I guess that's what it means to love a person so much you would lie down in front of a bus to save him. His voice is forever imprinted in my brain, never to leave.

So as I relax, mini-fridge still humming, I miss his voice. Screaming or otherwise.

Happiness is being one of the gang.....

It's true. Eli loves all things Sesame Street. He watches Sesame Street every morning while we get ready for work. I am sure this is mostly how Eli has learned to count to 15, sing "Shiney Happy Monsters" with REM, and learned the letter X. He knows that the characters are on his diapers and he says each name as we slide the diaper under his bum. The first Sesame Street character that Eli learned was Elmo, whom he refers to as "Momo." Eli knows that Elmo is the King on Monster Hill (after all, he has his own segment, "Elmo's World," that lasts for 15 minutes compared to Big Bird's "Journey to Ernie" which only lasts 5) and he loves Elmo with all of his little heart. Erik and I try to be enthusiastic about Elmo. He is rather cute and he's red. But that's where our enthusiasm ends. We have every Elmo item in the world. Elmo sings. Elmo cries like a baby (thanks to my friend who said that she couldn't handle crying Elmo any more at her house....did I want him for Eli?). Elmo goes potty. Elmo says "Buckle up!" Elmo is on the toothbrush. Elmo is on the computer. Elmo invades our very existence. But to Eli, Elmo is the best thing since pureed bananas. And because of that, we love Elmo, too.

My friend, Amy, gave us a gigantic Elmo that her own two Sesame Street lovers had outgrown. And this Momo is not your ordinary Momo. Do you see how bit it is? That thing is as tall as Eli! At first, I think Eli was kind of mad at Giant Elmo. After all, he could sit in Eli's chair and actually fill up the whole thing. That meant Elmo was going to get a swift kick out of that chair. I could hold Giant Elmo and he was rather life-like. Eli did not like to be replaced by a furry red monster. Elmo got punched and Eli ended up in my lap. Eli wanted to be King on Monster Hill.

But then Eli discovered "night-night" and "baby" and "Momo night night." He carried Giant Elmo around all over the house and eventually Giant Elmo ended up taking a nap with Eli. "Night night, Momo!"

So, every nap and every night, Elmo must be in the crib with Eli. Elmo gets a bedtime story and Eli covers him up with a blanket. Sometimes Elmo even gets a chupe (Spanish for paci -- pronounced choo-pay). And we know that Eli has his best pal by his side as he drifts off to sleep.

Night night, Eli. Night night, Momo.