Thankful Thursday

For clean sheets

For walking to the store

For shorts

For chunky baby thighs

For dark chocolate

Blue eyes you're the reason for my change

Fuzzy

I can tell you are standing in your crib before I even open my eyes. The cry, clear and unobstructed, is more of a whimper. And it’s in that moment that it begins. “What should I do?” I wonder.

Should I wait? Let you fuss a bit? Should I lay you back down? Should I rock you back to sleep? Should I feed you? And the “shoulds” begin to cascade down all before I’ve even peeled open one eye ball. Once I do, I can only make out the fuzzy outline of your pale face against the dark crib wood.

I’ve been known to tell my therapy clients that, in my book, “should” is a four letter word. Whether directed inward or outward, it only leads to blame and frustration. Unclear expectations, fuzzy outlines against a backdrop of self-doubt.

Ultimately I do get up. I pick you up and try a few things to lull you back to sleep. After a time, I realize that the day has begun and I grab my glasses. My eyes may now see the distance clearly - I can make out your clear blue eyes, your fuzzy blonde hair, your gummy smile -  but my mind is still fuzzy with shoulds.

I decide to feed you in the stillness of that space between night and morning. A space you and I have come to know quite well; it is an unwelcome sacredness. I watch as your eyes grow heavy and I take over the bottle-holding duties. I’ve managed to find a half-laying down position that seems entirely comfortable to you and good enough for me.

So I take off my glasses, set them down on the pillow. I can’t see much without them. The world is fuzzy. The only thing that is clear now is you.

Overheard

Me (spoken to Teddy while exiting the bathroom): That was an intense bath, buddy.
B (laughs)

Milestone Moment v.438

Our lives, our space, our hearts have been overtaken.
For good. Our baby is getting so big!


Untitled from M Ai on Vimeo.

Wobbly

I wrote a few weeks ago about how I thought one day you would just take off and start crawling. You seemed so eager, so able to just move yourself any direction you wanted. And then the days kept ticking by and you were not crawling. Don't get me wrong, this was a-oh-k by me; I'm not in any hurry to baby-proof this apartment or push you any faster to grow up. But it made me wonder if I was way off the mark about my mom-judgments. Do I really not know my child well enough to determine when he will crawl or walk or say his first word?

And then this morning I turned around, literally, and saw you half way across the room. Trapped underneath the coffee table. Frustrated and whining. Your world gets bigger by the day and here I am thinking this will happen easily, smoothly, overnight. That you will just crawl when you have the physical strength.

Once again you have reminded me that most transitions do not happen overnight. That we are often wobbly and frustrated and uncertain of our first movements. That we rarely know our own strength. 

Thankful Thursday

For spreadsheets

For board books

For dark chocolate

For painted toe nails

For stillness