Friday, October 22, 2010


making it to october.

i missed the three month post. i think because i was in the thick of it. the last couple months haven't been the easiest. i went back to work--such as it is--at three months, and it was maybe a little early. the mom thing is hard, but doable with its ups and downs so long as there isn't something else impossible and necessary you're supposed to be doing at the same time. there's another paper i was supposed to already have done; this time i don't feel so bad. i was really doing something else these past weeks.

i've been watching how a little bit more of you shows up behind your eyes every day. i love your fierce face, the way your smile looks a little like a dare, and how glorious your wide open smile is. it's like a joyful warrior smile. you still coo a little, and you've started doing this thing when you first wake up where you make music with your breath, with your inhales and exhales, like ani difranco quietly puffing and sucking in front of the microphone. you lie there in the crib and do this while i'm trying for seven more minutes. you do it quietly, and it makes me smile so much i don't mind getting out of bed.

we had a really good day the other day, you and i did. everything went well. i was competent. i was rested, relatively; non-kaput. you complied with the car seat, the traffic was not bad, all the naps happened, i did not forget the butt wipes. i felt like i felt the last time i posted here, not like i felt so many of the days in-between: sad, spent, unsuccessful, frightened, in need of my own comfort. the other day i cried while you cried while i was trying to feed you--cried so hard i popped you right off my breast. and then you cried harder.

but we're making progress. your father and i are figuring things out, and trying to remember to give ourselves credit. we've got you napping at least four hours a day, which, while it's not what the books say, makes you more cheerful. we've started putting you down in your crib awake, which i was sure we could never do. today i put you in there and you turned your head to the side and fell asleep like you'd been doing it all your life.

i love you so much, bug. i remember when i said that at the end of a day away, i missed you but wasn't sure why. it was true while you were a newborn, but now that you're a . . . an adolescent baby, i miss you because i miss that smile, the way your eyes search your face, the funny morris dance your legs and arms are always doing. i really like who you're turning out to be, boyo. and i'm proud of you. we've all done some hard work, and now we keep going.*

*your dad is leaving for a trip for ten days and your grandmother is coming to stay with me. i wonder if i'm crazy for having suggested this; i wonder if i will survive. stay tuned.

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