In all my various theological teachings from Catholic high school and CCD, limbo was always described in rather neutral terms. It's this place between heaven and hell, a place where you wait and see. What they don't tell you is that limbo, emotional limbo, is its own private form of hell where your emotions get jerked back and forth between hope and despair, often in only a matter of hours. It's exhausting. And just when you think you've gone numb, another wave of news sends you crashing. It's a place where all plans are tentative, all joys are slightly guilt-inducing, and all phone calls make you vaguely shudder.
But even in limbo, life goes on. Becca is oblivious to all the chaos around her and I don't think she fully understands what the tears are for. That or she's decided court jester will be her first call of duty. She smiles serenely or makes raspberry noises at inopportune moments. Like those last rites? Perfect time for making farting noises. (She obviously got her knack for timing from her father.) But more than anything she's a reminder that life goes on in this bizarre, funny, heartbreaking, amazing circle.
She is now 10 months old, sporting five teeth, a lust for walking and standing (assisted), and a general disdain for crawling. Becca loves the cat to no end. She also loves to repeatedly do the things that I've said "no" to. Don't throw my sippy cup off the tray? Are you sure? Because I really think one more toss is in the cards. Don't spit my food at you? But carrots make such a lovely spatter design on your shirt...
Discipline is now among the things we're trying to reinforce in the household. That and every time the phone rings, like Pavlov's dog, you must take a sip of wine.
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