An essay on time

Under a thousand stars and one waning moon, we walked the day away.  

His eyes followed the sliver of moon as we moved.  He was uncomfortable and tired.  Too tired for a bottle, too tired to put himself to sleep.  Into the ergo he went and we slipped out the back door.  A visit to the brook, to say goodnight.  A blanket wrapped tightly around his bare legs.  A walk through the blueberry bushes and peach trees.  The sound of summer surrounding us.  Crickets, peepers, filling the cool night air.  After just one loop around the property, he looked up at the moon, taking it in again and then right at me.  A full, beautiful smile filing his face as he remembered he was tucked tightly against his mama.  His heart.  

Soon after, his body relaxed and his nightly slumber began.

Between my fingertips, time is slipping through, no matter how tight i hold the grip.  May and June.  The months of flowers blooming, garden planting, warmth becoming the daily normal and strawberries beginning to turn a delicious red.  I keep notes, snapshots of our days, our normal, in my mind.  I think that i will hold onto how i felt, in that moment, forever.  But i can't.  I can hardly remember what the weight of his head felt like as we learned how to breastfeed together.  How his little body slumped and flopped in the baby bathtub.  How his legs curled up, tucked under his body, resting against my beating heart, always.  We hear it daily from many parents with young children.  "Time, slow down."  

But the truth is, the month of June was hard.  Liam had three double ear infections, resulting in many trips to the doctors, many sleepless nights, missed work and far too many antibiotics for his little body to handle.  Husband, of course, had to work the night shift far from home for two weeks.  I cried and laughed and pushed through.  I held my baby and sang him to sleep while tears rolled down my tired cheeks.  I called husband at 2:30am and regained some strength from him settling Liam (and me) by just his voice.  I called in some reinforcements when i had to be on a bid call and Liam was just so sick and wanted to be held.  So, for the past month, i have been hoping for tomorrow.  Wishing for a better day.  Praying for a healthy baby.  

Time, move forward.

Liam has been getting more and more excited about food.  He has always been a good eater, but over the past few weeks he has wanted whatever we are eating.  It's fun to give him bits and pieces of our food, watching his face figure out the flavors, the textures.  On sunday i made a batch of blueberry pancakes.  With a touch of syrup on his flapjack, boy housed them.  

Bath's have turned into splash, play time.  His once current play space on the floor has expanded as he moves in circles, finding what he wants.  Block towers are built and immediately knocked down with a squeal and smile.  It's the best.

Time, stay right here, right now.

From delicately touching, learning the give and take of a grass blanket, to suddenly ripping and grabbing clovers and just as fast, handfuls of green filling his mouth, tasting.  Always tasting.  I've become good at the finger-hook-in mouth to dig out the unwanted bits.

Watching him grow and learn, well it's better than i ever expected.

Benefits of husband working in Maine, fresh lobster for dinner.  

He fits perfectly on my hip.  It's his favorite place to be.  The extra weight i still carry around helps support his leg as he holds onto my shirt.  As i continue to try to lose the rest of my pregnancy weight, i look at how amazing my body is.  Thyroid-less body, you grew this amazing boy.  You kept him nourished and thriving.  You gave us this gift of becoming parents.  The weight will come off.  I'm not worried about it, especially as i'm still pumping for all of his milk needs.  My body is still working for him, for his health.  My body feels healthy and strong.  If i never get back to my pre-pregnancy weight, i will still feel good.  I still feel beautiful.  I'm a happy wife and mother.  I've got some happy guys that love me like no other.  

So yes.  I say yes to ice cream dates weekly.  I say yes to bacon on Sundays.  I say yes to evening walks and home workouts.  I say yes to balance and salads and fresh strawberry pies.  

I say yes to life.

His tongue is typically out.  He just learned this cute little pout, that he thinks is hilarious.  He screams when we buckle him in the high chair.  Just one quick howl and then he's content to wait for his meal.  Bottle feeding to sleep is coming to a close, as he puts himself to sleep in his crib more nights than not.  Some nights he wakes regularly.  Some nights it's nine hours straight, if he's feeling well.

Charlie has become the funniest dog in the world.  When he walks by Liam, he will do a full body shake and Liam starts rolling with laughter.  If he can get close enough, he'll pull all of the hair off Charlie's body.  They are close now, i love it.

Summer meals have begun to retreat to the porch.  The traffic driving by is watched with deliberate eyes.  Twinkling eyes.  His hands, face, hair and typically entire body are covered in bits of his meal.  He laughs and smiles as we sing his favorite songs.

Everyday, i wake up eager to cuddle him, rock him as the morning sun falls softly into his room.  While this season of life is hard at times, it's also the most rewarding.  Coffee helps in the mornings.  A good book helps in the evenings.  Binge Netflix watching happens on the hardest nights.  Easy conversation and shared love for our learning boy strengthens our marriage.

I'm content, happy, with today.

Tomorrow is welcome to come.  Bringing more blessings than sorrows.  More joy than tears.  

And, hopefully, probably the most happiness and peace in our hearts.

Time, i'll see you in the morning.  And i can't wait.

First Strawberries

During my pregnancy, i lived off strawberries for a good full month of the summer.  As soon as our patch exploded red juiciness, i picked and devoured.  Jason and i would joke that our little one would be bound to love strawberries. 

Liam and i were walking by the patch today and noticed some red peeking out, it's time.  The first juicy berry went straight into Liam's drooly mouth.  The boy was hooked.  He gobbled it down, juice running down his chin, onto his shirt, down my arm.  

I love this motherhood gig.  It's the best.

Her heart, My heart

I gave birth to my first, the same age my mother gave birth to me.  For 29 years it was my mom and I.  I celebrated her being my mother, i her daughter.  This year i took on the precious role of mother myself. Of putting my child first.  Of loving and caring more deeply than i ever thought possible.  Of beginning to understand the deep love a mother feels for her child.

We would wake up early, eager to make her breakfast.  I would stand on a chair in the kitchen, along side my dad, preparing the most special meal, to be served on a tray in bed.  I would fill every square inch of that tray with goodness.  Eggs, toast, fruit, juice, tea and a small vase of flowers, just in bloom.  Dad would keep saying that we had to be quiet, so she could sleep in.  Secretly knowing she was lying in bed, reading, listening to the beautiful noise, the chaos of her three children, her family.

Her heart.

We'd set up a blanket outside for a picnic lunch.  Just me & mom along side many of my doll children.  She'd be Hazel and i'd be Helen.  Both my great grandmothers, one i knew, one i never met.  We'd sip tea and talk in old lady accents.  We'd giggle.  We'd feed the doll children.  In the distance the boys would race their bikes up and down the driveway, yelling, being loud, messy, perfect boys.  Dad would be filling up the air on the bike tires, helping to build a bike ramp.  Perhaps taking a moment to babysit my doll babies.  

We'd walk hand in hand, up the road to feed Susie's smallish horse.  Carrots and apples rattled in the red wagon alongside my doll babies up our dirt road.  She'd say that we'd better bring a jar because the milkweed is up and we may catch a wooly bear.  We'd tromp through the tall grass in field at the corner until we found one.  Carefully gathering some of it's habitat, placing the fuzzy caterpillar in the jar, securing it with a piece of mesh and a rubber band.  As we headed home, we'd make up a story of the caterpillar.  We'd talk about it becoming a butterfly and spreading it's wings to show the world all of the beauty within it. 

I'd ask how long until it became a beautiful butterfly.  

She'd say, when it was ready, there was no rushing it.

Last night my sweet six month old woke more times than usual.  His first teeth are about to break through.  He needed to snuggle, to feel my warmth, his daddy's warmth against him.  I brought him into our bed, nestling close to daddy.  In the darkness i pumped him a bottle as daddy soothed him to sleep.  Just a few weeks ago he decided he no longer wanted to nurse at night.  It broke my heart, but also opened my eyes to yet another milestone.

As he grows i see more and more of my mother coming out of me, while also becoming my very own mother.  I feel what he feels, love what he loves.

I began this blog years ago when we started building our home.  I was nervous to put my heart out there for the public.  It remained private for a few years.  Last year i put the link on my Instagram account and let people find it at their leisure.  

My mama kept telling me that my writing, my words are beautiful, and others would enjoy it as well.  It's a big step, a scary step to put this into the world of so many opinions and views.  But this morning, as i ate breakfast with my family, i knew i was ready.

So, on my first mother's day, I'm going to share my thoughts, my photographs, my heart.

I had to do it when i was ready, there is no rushing the beauty of this life.

Happy mothers day, mama.

bright mornings, soft afternoons

Morning:

Afternoon:

Sunday in May

The day began with a sizable to-do list.  By noon, it was tossed in the trash and in its place, a quilt and a squishy babe.  Just as it should be.