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.
"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.