august 27.

so many thoughts right now. this week has been interesting. not as chaotic as i thought, but full of subdued emotion. i am keeping it together because i'm too busy thinking about all the things to do, and also because i feel like stuff like this is just inevitable.

i want to feel super confident that these are the right decisions. that when we look back, we will know with certainty that we made the right call. but we will never know that, because that's not how life works. and i will never feel certainty, because i am not a person who exhibits confidence in that particular way.

sigh.

i am most worried about hollis, i guess. he is a delicate kid...his sensitivity and reserved nature make transitions even harder than they would be on any average two year old. will he learn as much from this new place? will the physical stuff help him come out of his shell a little? or will it just make him stressed and overwhelmed?

i am also stressed about managing all the things. how to keep the house clean, remember all the activities and paperwork, get the kids to school on time, get myself to work on time, look halfway like an adult. yeesh. it's a lot. i now understand why being a stay at home parent is a thing. because trying to keep track of all of it and do it all well (or at least not phone it in like some derelict parent) is a job. and i already have a job.

sigh.

may 18.

when you're sound asleep
a rarity these busy days
you revert
back to your baby-self
arms in victory pose
hands in little fists
smacky grunting noises
i curl around your warm body
smell your neck
no more of that sweet milky scent
but sweet anyway

as i wake you up
gentle and slow even though it's monday
your arms wrap around my neck
can you carry me mommy?
yes my baby
yes.

september 24.

i flung guilt at you last night
you were digging where you shouldn't have been
(according to my unspoken mental demarcation)
unearthing that which i'd haphazardly stowed
out of your perceived purview.

so you broke an ornament
a doughy imprint of your hand
a memento from when you were an only child
the physical result of a night with the three of us
painting on your little table.

my nostalgic heart clenched at the crack
sure that even glue would not restore it
to its imperfect form
and instead of consoling
my voice manifested frustration and upset.

what i should have done
was grasp you tightly
show you how big your hands are now
in comparison
and try to tell you the words for a special night.

these things we spend time making
scheming, pinning, planning
they are just the things, after all
the point is not the result
but the slow deliberate togetherness.

september 22.

you are wrapped
like a starfish
around my body
back and forth
back and forth

nuzzling into my neck
drooling onto my shoulder
you guide my arm to your back
the moment i threaten
to slide you to your quiet bed

my frenetic days
and whirlwind evenings
feel like even this moment
is for hurrying
counting the backs and forths

but i try to stop
smell your head
cup your empanada feet
relish the warm weight of you
close my eyes and breathe.

september 15.

i have been running
some
knees creaking
but it's getting easier
slowly.

the best part
is that every run
has its own smell
and it is never what i expect.

the first day of summer camp
the mechanic shop by my grandmother's house
a trip to new orleans
outdoor coffee shops in prague.

memories living in my nose.

september 11.

after much twirling
crashing down into the grass
giggling
you said your back was itchy
can i take my dress off?

we said you could
since you asked
please
since we were in the backyard
relatively shielded.

you leaped back into the yard
shoulder blades like baby wings
undies ballooning on your little body
legs and arms longer than they were
even yesterday.

a while later
we gathered your found treasures
crystals, dried leaves, so many feathers
look how beautiful
plopped you in the bath.

you emerged so clean
skin calm
baby wings tucked into your flower gown.

september 8.

when it's time for bed

these days

you thrash and flail

a wild thing

furious at the injustice.

i never know

exactly what you need

a stern shush

calming words

a song and circles on your little back.

daddy rescues you

from my lack of intuition

using his big arms

and his man voice

to hold you down until you are calm.

my wish is for this to be

the sweetest time of day

inhaling your clean baby smell

drooly face tucked into my neck

legs frogged around my torso.