With so much time spent at work, and all my evening time spent catching up with the baby and the husband, I am finding that having time to write a blog, let alone a thank-you note, is getting away from me. But today, as the dust sits collecting in little piles, the laundry basket has well overflowed, and the bed goes unmade for the umpteenth day in a row, I find myself sitting here instead of catering to my chores. Wanting to get my thoughts written down while I was still thinking them.
And that's when it hit me. I am not really having any thoughts, lately, other than should we wake him? Should we put him down? Should we put rice in the bottle? Should we put on more/less blankets? Should we put him inside/outside/upside-down? Basic thoughts. Caring thoughts. Easy thoughts. Thoughts that are not only a great break from the norm, but are also a welcome excuse to avoid more taxing, unpleasant thoughts, like paying bills or what to make for dinner. Like should we make a will and how can we get out of this condo?
That is what, to me anyway, is so beautiful about Motherhood. How I can do so little to soothe him. Make him giggle. Provide him comfort and be his everything, that while certainly time consuming, is so... simple.
And as much as I want to see him grow up and crawl and walk and talk, I want to remember what this time was like, too. Because when he becomes a mouthy, independent adolescent, I want to have a vivid memory of being in love with him. And other stuff, but really, I want to remember what it was like to be so needed, and how fufilling that is.
So no, I don't really have anything interesting to say outside of how lucky I am to finally get the chance to be a Mom. Of how much I like it. Of how things have realligned themselves and I have never been happier. But who wants to hear about that?
He will. Maybe that's the point.
Karma Comes For the Archbishop
2 days ago