I’m writing this on the other side of a migraine. Well, halfway to the other side, at least. Now that Emry’s not nursing anymore, I should probably look into migraine medication. Of course, some people say, “if it were a real migraine, you’d be prone in a quiet, dark room.” And I say, “how I would love to be prone in a quiet, dark room!” Who are these people who can drop everything and go lie down? They are not people with 18-month-olds, 5-year-olds, and multiple part-time jobs, are they? It’s true, though, that these are not the worst migraines possible. They’re either mild migraines, or else just really bad headaches that, once they come on, last 12 hours no matter what pain relievers I down.

But enough about my head!

I wanted to tell you about Emry’s 1 and a half birthday. We went to the beach in Point Reyes, a foggy, chilly affair. But the beach was gorgeous and WE SAW WHALES. Close up! There were mother & baby gray whales just on the other side of the wave break, and they were doing iconic whale things. Like spouting. And spy hopping. And putting their tails/flippers in the air. And breaching, not a big breach, a little breach. Or maybe just a baby whale doing a breach.

I am sure I am using whale lingo incorrectly here, but with the head still aching in the background, I’m feeling too lazy to start looking up correct whale lingo online. I know what would happen. I’d start reading all about whales, watching whale videos, and – boom! – an hour would have gone by, and I’d have eaten no dinner and watched no Glee on hulu, which is all I can muster tonight.

In any case, it was a marvelous way to spend Earth Day. Elan saw the whales clear as day and reveled in the Sea World-esque show, as we all did, fingers pointing up and down the beach, everyone stopped and staring out to sea. Emry seemed to see them too. Who knows what he thought they were, these dark shapes breaking the surface of the water. He was pointing his teeny-tiny finger at the ocean, saying “Waaayyle” just like the rest of us. Even as we drove home, he kept saying “Mama, Waayle, Mama” which, roughly translated, means “I want it, whale, I want it.” I kept imagining him grabbing a whale flipper and sticking it in his mouth, massaging those sore teething gums against cool, salty, rubbery whale flesh. Maybe that would feel good.