Thursday, October 26th, 2017
I am truly providing birth control for our neighborhood. I took both kids screaming to the car for what felt like the 20th time in Skip’s (almost) two months. Sprout wanted me to simultaneously hold and not hold her and Skip was upset she had to be removed from her perfectly peaceful state in the Solly Baby Wrap. I wasn’t trilled about it either. Any of it.
When we got home and I was putting Sprout, who indeed had an ear infection in her left ear like I suspected she did at 3 a.m., down for her nap, she sat up just before I left and smirked at me from her loft. “You’re so funny Mommy!” so of course I had to come here to record it. She thinks I’m funny. That’s something. I’m not sure how funny Scott thinks I am today though.
Earlier this morning my friend Stephanie texted our college roommate group-text this advice:
1.) Don’t be an ass to your husband.
2.) When driving in costume, make sure you have a full tank of gas.
I could have used this advice yesterday. Last night I shouted “God Dammit!” into the dark and told Scott that if he woke up in the morning and took a loud shower in the bright lights that I would die. I felt like I had been up every hour with one of the kids and my mind was going crazy not finishing any of those dreams. Although, in my rosiest of moods, I would say I was being woken up to my real dream and that would, of course, be exactly true.
Later in the day I asked Scott if I could get a cleaning service to come and rid the house of spit up and other hazardous waste before our Halloween party on Saturday and he said “Only because you were so nice last night.” You’re so funny Scott.
After I got out from a surf this evening I dried off, watched the sun dip like a cookie into the milky blue ocean and I thought: I made it.
Thursday, November 2nd, 2o17
Being present is the biggest challenge and goal for everyone right? But sometimes I feel like it isn’t always our phones or work emails that keep us from the here and now, but that if you actually let yourself fully feel some of the moments right in front of you that your heart would just bust wide open and ache so helplessly that you’d maybe have to lie down for a while.
Tonight I went up to Sprout’s loft bed to “snug” her before bed. We covered a variety of subjects from Halloween being over to her latest booboo and ear infection being all better. She asked if her friend Arlo was sick and I said no, that he was gone at a wedding. That his Poppy was getting married. She said “Auntie Maddie loves Andy too” because their recent engagement and wedding have been something we talk about so much it’s almost as if the excitement could erase the pain plague that hit when she had cancer.
“I get married someday too”
“Who are you going to marry?”
And she said, as if I should’ve known, “You!” I felt like the Grinch with my heart growing too big and breaking apart my Grinchy-ass body and every boundary ever set for it. That kid is good; in all the ways I knew she’d be and so many more that I never knew anyone could be.
Friday, November 3rd, 2017
I had the babysitter this morning for two hours. I handed her Skip around 7 a.m. and when Sprout came into my room fifteen minutes later she climbed into my bed and I requested she “snug” me. Her breath smelled so good, I wanted to lick her face like a dog and kiss her hair forever, but then she wanted someone who would get up and make breakfast so I sent her off to have some oatmeal with the sitter and to also, please, close the door behind her. I put a pillow over my head and passed out for an hour and a half. It felt like skipping first period. This is what I’m better at the second time around: asking for help.
Saturday, November 4th, 2017
My surf today served multiple purposes, which is important seeing as I’m more about multitasking than ever. For one, it was a shower and for another it was like going to church and cleansing my soul.
There were shiny, scattered shells; big, quiet skies. It felt like the entire northern hemisphere was becoming a little shop pulling in its shutters earlier and earlier so that if you’re out in the elements you get to feel like one of the only ones who knows the feeling of them, like you’re in on this secret with nature. I never surf as long as used to though. I miss my babies too much.
Monday, November 6th, 2017
Today at Trader Joe’s a guy restocking the sauerkraut saw Skip asleep in the baby wrap on my chest and said “That guy is knocked out!” Thinking about this makes me laugh. Mostly because I picture telling her the story one day and laughing all over again while she rolls her eyes at me.
Wednesday, November 8th, 2017
I use every opportunity I can to say that I have two children; to say their names and ages and recent illnesses. It’s like it makes them more real for some reason. Some part of my old self is bored by this person, but the rest of me does not care; the rest of me always wanted to be exactly this.
“Two and two months.”
“An ear infection and a recent need to fall asleep with some lights on”.
“A tongue and lip tie procedure and wanting to be held all the time.”
I’ve never been so proud.
I called my senator yesterday to talk about gun sense laws. I got sweaty and teary and so scared of what I was doing that I almost hung up, but then I felt all this clarity to see it through. Like when you jump in a lake or ocean and it’s so shockingly cold that your first thought is how to get out, but then all the sediment around you settles and your heart rate slows and you know you were glad you made the leap.
The ringing finally went to voicemail and I took a deep breath to prepare my message, but then a robot told me the it was full and I felt like a balloon that had just been popped. But I’ll keep calling. I’ve never had so much to lose before. I’ve never had so much to live for.