Saturday, June 18, 2011
when i see him from across the yard, walking, getting into mischief, his legs thick and like tree-trunks, i can see that he looks like he's age one. but i can't believe that he's age one. it went too fast.
it always goes too fast.
i read him sandra boynton books and his favorite, "the big red barn" by margaret wise brown, on the queen size bed we keep in his room. he took long draws on his night-time ba-ba and we were sharing a pillow and he was so soft: downy hair, lavender cheeks, carters jammies so worn they felt smooth in their own sort of way. i know the stories by heart and so i said the words aloud but let my mind wander to [almost] a year ago and how quickly the time is gone, how sudden the shift of an entire year, then to now. then i would bring my library books in to read from by the subtle bed lamp and he would sleep the drowsy newborn slumber so deeply, as long as he could sense me by him. we spent a good three months that way, eventually graduating to separate rooms, a crib, a bedtime routine. now we read worn cardboard baby books together and i put him down with kisses and three pacifiers (one in the mouth, one for each hand), and i say goodbye till morning.
and miss him as soon as i shut his door.
i miss the almost one year old him; i miss the newborn him.
i'm ok with the time gone. it was a short year and a long year. i was a bad mom and a good mom. i was there and i was preoccupied. i reconcile my feelings about babies in general, my own-- my musings on more, my thoughts on parenting, i'm full of everything tonight. and i don't know what i'm thinking, really. and it's ok.
i love my jude so. he is a sweet spot in my heart. a bit of warm sunshine. he is my funny baby-- all personality and big teeth, and naughty curiosity and "words" that he babbles over my own words. when i try to say something, he wants to say something louder.
i am listening.
what will i hear?