Words Fail Us

We had the 12-week appointment last week and I forgot to write about it. Well maybe I forgot, or maybe I just had no words. Everything's normal. Unremarkable, you might say.

This is week 13 now and my email doctor tells us the kid is "about 3 inches long now, about the size of a shrimp."

So I recorded the heartbeat with my phone. I think it's about 130 beats per second. Let's write a song to that...

I don't know if I ever said this out loud before, but I think a big reason I became a musician was that words could never quite crystallize my own thoughts and feelings. Sure there are plenty of folks around, great writers, poets and people who have a great way with words. Sometimes I even get compliments on my way with words... only sometimes. But despite what I may or may not be capable of with words... the words have never satisfied me.

So as it started with plinking piano keys, moved onto buzzy acoustic guitar strums and finally the pure joy of flailing about with the sticks and drums. And on into bands and songs and recordings and shows and tours and late nights and weird people and awesome people and more and more and more music. Music is something other, beyond words, above words, capturing a moment that can't be photographed, videotaped, burned to CD or blogged about. We record songs, but we can't hold them. We can't stare at them. We just have the moment while the song is on, and it's there, and then it's not. It's ephemeral, and perfect.

What the hell does any of this have to do with baby #2? Everything, but words fail me.

Having kids kind of puts introspection and expression into high gear and on hold all at once. Where are the damn words for the blog? I wanted to write words for the blog so we can share the experience. It's all welled up and stuck inside like some kind existential constipation. Like what happens when both your feet are to the floor of the car, braking and accelerating, and grinding the gears. Feeling everything and nothing.

I heard Andrew WK on the radio last week talking about Johan Sebastian: "Bach is everything and nothing. Mystery and revelation. All at the same time."

Hard to capture, that feeling. You need to be Bach. Or I need to pick up a guitar. Because we have no time for introspection, we barely have time to brush our teeth. "Shout into the darkness, squeeze out sparks of light." (Again, someone else's words) Excuse me I have to go change a diaper and then pick up the dog poo.

But the email doctor still sends me email about Baby #1, who is not a baby anymore, so the emails talk about manners and temper tantrums. I wish they would still do the size comparison thing though... as in "the average preschooler is about the site of carry-on luggage"! That little human is getting bigger and better at expressing herself every day, but words fail her from time to time as well.

And she sure seems to like music too. (But she can't write 12 paragraphs about not knowing what to write... yet.)