MY SAD CAPTAINS.

1/ while he naps, we sat on the nursery with a la croix, scribbling baby names on paper
2/ a hot sunday afternoon in august
3/ the way he talks to augustus in the morning
4/ eggs on toast on the bed in the loft
5/ playing with mama's buttons
6/ hammock hangs
7/ the leaves have begun falling, and my little prince is waiting on the birds
8/ sleeping with my babies (incredible watch c/o daniel wellington )
9/ freshly picked armer's market strawberries
10/ foraged green bouquet from around the yard
11/ i'm so uncomfortable showing my face on camera. it doesn't come naturally. it feels forced and brings to surface all i struggle with. but, i can do it, sometimes.
12/ fresh sheets hanging dry + red boot inserts as shoes
13/ just me and my boy

i have so much to say, so much inside, so much so that nothing is coming out today. i am working on another post, one that will be able to speak through me, i am hoping.

for now, these are last week's photos - last week's moments, memories, that i didn't want to overlook.

my husband has been playing this song on repeat. i love him for loving it and for wanting to share it with me and for wanting to play it again the moment it ends. i love how he woke up and wanted to play it through our speakers while we were having coffee. i love that he said it reminded him of peter gabriel.

we both love peter gabriel.

i took a video of my boys swinging under our sycamore tree to it, and will be sharing it tomorrow.

i think i would like it playing in the delivery room, i've decided.

A SATURDAY MORNING PULLING WEEDS.

i'm elbow deep in pruning back our roses, hoping for one more round of blooms before the fall air carries them away. it is foggy but warm - warm enough for our windows to be cracked open and wear open sleeves in our garden. each time i glance up, i see you bent over, wandering into the green, searching for lizards and weeds and pine cones that only you can seem to find. 

i move a bit slower these days, losing my breath more than i can count. my stomach begins cramping if i am slouched over my blooms for too long, so i take many short breaks, knowing my body all too well. i pull off the shriveled white roses that have dimmed to brown and crack like broken potato chips once touched. you ask me what i am doing every few moments or so, always preoccupied with what i am up to, even if i am right beside you doing the same activity as you.

there are wilting flowers and piles of rocks in all the pockets of your overalls, and each time they fall, you say uh-oh mama and place them back. you trade me a kiss for more water and roasted seaweed, and point out the roots of trees, each and every one, just like i taught you. 

"you see dat mama, das a woot."

i play you this song

"don't take my word for it, 

just look at me and know that it's true"

A BIT OF OUR NOW.

it is a cold and foggy friday morning in august, and i have been sitting on this blog post for two weeks now. i began writing it at 29 weeks, and now i'm at 31. my coffee has gone cold and the daniel tiger opening song has been stuck in my head for days.

yesterday afternoon, we went shopping as a family for my brother and sister-in-law who live in france who just had their first son last week. while there, i couldn't help but pick up a few things for our october baby, one of which was a pale paisley onesie. i reasoned it out by saying if we have a boy, then one of my friends will eventually have a girl along the road and she can have it, or i'll ask to exchange it with a wonderful explanation i've already sorted.

i have been thinking about so much lately, mostly about the delicacy of our right now. i find myself studying augustus in a way that has become so essential for me to even make it through the days. i study him like a steady surgeon, deliberate and delicate with my time. i hold him and whisper great things about him. i tell him how special he is, how important it is to be gentle and kind, and to always try to do the right thing. i tell him to be nice to animals and bugs, people and things. to stand up for what he believes in. to follow whatever is inside his big bold heart.

i notice the way he runs across our floor, his tiny feet slamming against the hardwood floor with a sound only he can make. i notice the way he searches for the lids to his smoothies, the way he sucks the milk out of his cereal in the morning, the way he runs towards to me when he hears the very scary sounds of motorcycles pass by our home. i notice the way he moves inside his baths, touching the bubbles, his little slippery bum bobbing in the water like a ping pong ball. i notice the way he looks for me when i've gone into another room, the way he kindly asks for more bananas, more ice cream, more watermelon. 

i wait for him to wake me up each morning, slowly tapping on my face, "hey mama, hiiii" he says as the rest of his little milky body wakes up. i live to pick him up and place him on our counters every friday afternoon, to bake something together, like we always have. "ok mama, one more" he says, holding up his pointer finger.

i live for our right now. for what we have together, just us three. i live for spending every waking moment consumed by his beautiful little soul. i live for caring for him, making sure he has all he needs, within my means.

and.

i live for dreaming of what our 'right now' will be, just eight or so weeks from this moment, when his baby brother or sister will arrive. i live for dreaming about what kind of life that will feel like.

i don't exactly know what it will be like, but i know it will be all i could ever dream about. i know it will be as delicate as now, even more so, i think, because i will then have two souls to embrace, two souls to love, two souls to call my own.

two souls to wake to each morning. and kiss each and every night.

/in love with this clothing line, and this dress in particular

/ a great giveaway for a great cause hosted by the amazing lindsay of darling clementine

/currently reading this mothering book

/ wish list cookbook

/ have you heard of these? my french sis-in-law told me about them. intriguing.

/ we started this show a few nights ago

/ need to make this cake soon

FRIDAY EVENING + A VIDEO

it's 8:18 on the last friday night of july. gus fell asleep on the way home from my parent's house, and i am sitting here, after standing in my kitchen staring into the abyss that is my pantry and fridge trying to find something to feed myself. i settled on half of a small watermelon and pregnancy tea sweetened with a little honey.

i could really, really, really go for a bowl of cocoa puffs. and peanut butter froyo, no toppings please.

the house is getting dark and i can't figure out my television without the help of my husband and my feet are kind of swollen even though i treated myself to a pedicure today. i can see my cat winnie through the windows, prowling through the grass, never ever killing anything except for maybe de-tailing lizards and then bringing the tails to our door. what the hell is up with that one, winnie.

 baby is moving like crazy and i am really content just being right where i am.

here. alone. in the quiet. of our home.

last night, after having a good hard cry in front of (at?) my husband telling him how much my body just really, really hurts, like all the time, and how deeply unattractive i felt, how insanely sad i felt for cecil the tiger, he assured me over and over and walked straight into the kitchen. as i was using my blanket to wipe away my tears, he handed me a plate of apples in the shape of a flower, with a giant scoop of peanut butter in the center. i then cried at my apples in the shape of a flower and told him how much i love him. then cried just a little bit more. because, it's what i do. apparently.

we talked about a lot in that moment,  baby names, how to spell them, how they would sound when they're twenty four being called to sit at a table for dinner. we talked about the length of our baby, held out our hands for visual reference, wondering how in the world we created something so beautiful that could grow to fifteen inches as if from magic. we talked about how old we will be when they graduate college, how we will handle two children crying simultaneously.

we talked about the birds that are nesting in our walls. how we can't hear them during the day because our house is never, ever, ever quiet. not with a two year old. and how it's only once he's gone to bed, when the traffic has slowed, when our bodies are settled, that we can hear those sparrows walking around, nesting away, making their own version of family.

just yesterday, we hopped in the car with steve to attend a small business meeting and give gus a tiny adventure. we went to a sacred place in sausalito called cavallo point, which sits right before the golden gate bridge. his curls coiled up from the distant fog and i don't know if i've ever been more in love with this boy. the way he would ask if i was coming (i was only but a few steps behind) and assure me that he would be careful climbing the stairs in front of me.

"ok mommy, i be cawful," his favorite sentence to date.

he's breaking my goddamn heart every single day. i'm talking, throw it off the highest tower, watch it shatter and break off into a zillion pieces, each piece breaking off their own gazillion atoms and then coming back together as if from magic only to break over and over until he utters another sentence.

his vocabulary utterly amazes me. he remembers everything. from the lipstick i choose to wear to what i call a green car once (a cricket). he checks in with me hundreds of times a day. if i sneeze. if i brush my hair a little too hard and my eye twitches. if i accidentally shut the fridge too hard and say oops. if i check the mail and say oh darn! because my anticipated package hasn't arrived.

"mama, you ok"
"mama, you be cawful?"
"mama, need kiss"

he's just really, really, really special. he gets it. the complicated. the intricate. he gets it and isn't afraid to really express that he does. he will say i love you without being asked. he will color coordinate his blocks, lining them up, only to watch them tumble and do it again. he finds the ordinary fascinating.

"mama you seee dat! mama you see dat"

"see what, baby?"

"a fly, mama. a fly!"

i also rediscovered my love for making little videos and logged into my vimeo account from over five years ago. i found old videos of steve and i when we were very first dating and it made me utterly weak in the knees.

you can find me on vimeo here, if you like. i'll be uploading more in the days to come. it's such a special way to preserve memories so i'm really excited to keep it updated.

"On Daddy's Shoulders" from bonjourmoon on Vimeo.