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.
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.
/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