Project Baby and Guest Blogger Week: Carina

Friends, I am out of state for the lovely wedding of a wonderful friend. Until I get back to Utahland, please enjoy the writings of Jetset Carina, AKA the lovely Azucar! Some people I have friend crushes on, some people I have people crushes on... Carina is my blog crush. And she is about to become yours too.

Beautiful Things, by Carina
Do you know your beautiful things? That lamp that you serendipitously found in that tiny thrift shop? The gorgeous necklace your aunt gave you for graduation? The glass vase from your wedding, the antique sideboard, your new taupe couch with the perfect pillows?

Say goodbye.

Pick them up, handle them with care, and shed a tear, because none of them are safe.

Congratulations, it's a boy.

I don't remember the first beloved possession of mine to disintegrate in front of my eyes, but I remember the feeling. I loved it with a memory, it was whole, and now it was broken.

I lost my new turquoise necklace to an afternoon pirate who had raided all the drawers to find wearable booty. One minute the necklace was swinging through the air, the next, blue beads shot across the room in a shiny spray. We grew alligators on our carpet, so the boy had to jump from chair to chair. They weakened until the pedestals collapsed to the side, forever tipping the chairs at a jaunty angle.
Do you know how to catch a monster? Smear toothpaste on a wool rug. Do you wonder why that lamp stands up so straight? Perhaps a few hits with a light saber will make that prideful lamp shade tip its rim and fall off every time you go to turn it on. Can't find a wipe for your bum? Just use a merino wool sweater.

Rocks in pockets go into your dryer. Green army men march down your drains. Glass doors are more fun in pieces. Pots are just for banging.

And sometimes, when you take a head butt in the ear, breaking your earring, driving the post into the soft skin, it's OK to cry a little. When you just can't face your shattered clock, your newly Sharpie'd wall, or the burned Anthropologie hand towels that were put inside your oven, just let the tears fall. What else can you do?

There is a reason that there are daddy's girls and mama's boys: a boy fills a mother's heart with more love than she has ever known for a man. You need that love, because you can't love just things anymore.


  1. ditto. just this morning oliver colored all over my grandmother's antique drop leaf table. The one she had painted herself in the 40's. Awesome.

    and then he giggled as I made him try to clean it with a sponge. I think he liked the trying to clean it part too much. Makes me think he will try it again so he can try to clean it.

    I love my boys.

  2. lovely. as the mother of three boys and one tomboy, i wholeheartedly concur. wouldn't trade a minute of it for all the world.

  3. This comment has been removed by the author.

  4. Beautiful. The most precious (albeit worthless) thing I've lost to my boys is a little purple pillow that my friends made for me when I moved away from Maryland when I was eleven. They all signed it and wrote little silly messages, and for years, I kept it with my keepsakes. Until Lego was struggling to sleep, and I thought maybe a pillow would help. It did; he loved that pillow almost immediately. Soon afterward, I bought him another pillow that I didn't care about much and tried to swap my special one out. Needless to say, that didn't go over well. He loved that pillow for two years, drooling on it, spilling milk and water on it until all the writing on the back ran and the colors looked gross. He played with it, making it into a bed for his toys or laying his head on it to pretend to camp out. And when he "graduated" to a bigger pillow, the purple one went to Duplo. I loved that pillow and the memories connected with it, but to be honest, knowing they love it too is almost more precious. Almost.

  5. Couldn't have said it better myself. Great post, Carina!

  6. Wow, what am I in for? My boy is only 7 months! I loved this post, Carina! I especially laughed at the fate of the poor merino wool sweater.

  7. Great post and so true.
    I have 2 boys myselves at the ages of 17 years and the newest one who is 4 month`s


Post a Comment

Popular Posts