Unlatching
Independence. It’s amazing how our instincts push us toward self-reliance. CJ has turned violently resistant to being spoon-fed. So, earlier this week, we gave him the keys to the cutlery. He proved remarkably adept at transporting food to mouth; and, oh, food is so squishy and mushy and throwable. It’s a winning combination (for him).
The other photo shows him climbing the back stairs, somewhere near the top. He was moving too fast for my camera, and every photo was a blur. He’s yet to master the reverse option, and prefers to stand at the top and shout till his personal escort makes a speedy appearance: (“When the heck did you get up here, you monkey??” “You were blogging, Mama. It was a breeze.”)
Except he hasn’t said “mama” yet, so that last sentence is an obvious forgery. “Dada” he chortles with enthusiasm and accuracy, but mama has yet to roll off his tongue.
He’s almost weaned himself. We’re close. This seems early (I nursed the last two far longer), but I’m taking my cues from him; and honestly, the only time he settles in for a solid nurse is at 3 o’clock in the morning, which I’m used to, but won’t miss terribly. The transition seems worth mourning or marking somehow–having spent the last eight years and eight months either nursing or pregnant, this state of gestation/lactation feels fundamental to my identity; and has been an identity in which I’ve felt so comfortable, so at home. But it feels like a graduation–I’ve earned the degree, and I’m ready to move on to the next challenge.
Whatever that may be. I’ll keep you posted. He hasn’t quite unlatched yet.
Children Hunting for Signs of Spring
These were taken by Albus and Apple-Apple in our backyard after school one day this week, when the weather was gorgeous and balmy. We’d noticed purple and yellow flowers sprouting from several neighbours’ yards on our walk home; none were coming up in ours, but even the slimmest green stem pushing through dead leaves is cause for celebration at this time of year. We awoke to a skiff of snow on the ground this morning; these pictures remind me of what awaits.
One Year
Happy birthday, son. Are we ever glad for you.
This is the Only Moment
Can you guess what Albus is eating? Yes, it’s what’s marked on the freezer bag: frozen red peppers. He and Apple-Apple ate half the bag after supper last night. Local Red Pepper Popsicles.
Kevin has the flu. He’s utterly out of commission, and I’m worried about him. I’ve been trying to remember when life got so hard. It feels like we’ve been running a non-stop marathon, but where was the start line? Months ago, years ago. Last night when Fooey was having a nightmare, and it was 10pm and I’d been on my feet and working all day and just wanted to fall into bed myself, I held her and these words came into my head: “This is the only moment. This one here.” It gave me incredible peace and strength to think those words. I felt unexpectedly capable: of being present, and of giving what needed to be given, right then.
CJ and I came upon a car/pedestrian accident yesterday. We’d been playing in our front yard, enjoying the sunshine, when I noticed a disturbance at the intersection very near our house, so we walked down to see what was happening. It had just happened, though three people had already gone to the woman, and were comforting her. There was nothing I could do; someone in a car had already called 911. It shook me. Life’s randomness, unpredictability, sadness. We cannot protect ourselves from it.
But my nature is optimistic, hopeful. I believe that attitude matters, that how I react to situations matters, that I have it in me to be … calm, present, patient, whole. That’s why I wanted to hang laundry today. It seemed medicinal. Being outside is medicinal. Sunshine is. This is the only moment.
Domesticity
Gifts of food …
Two meals from one veggie lasagne.
Chili with cornbread muffins and steamed greens. Enough for leftovers, my lunch today.
Beef stew.
Pizza dough made from a Chickadee magazine recipe, using tomato sauce canned with neighbours last fall.
Banana muffins, finally made after days of planning to bake, with friends over to play and to eat the results.
Confession …
The drier. The drier. The drier! After months of hanging laundry indoors, and despite the fresh spring breeze and welcome sunshine, I have been using our drier. Something had to give on the domestic front, and that is apparently my weakest point.