Beautiful Boy

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Where did he come from?! Sometimes I look at him and see a little boy, the person he will be. His face seems so old in certain light. I mostly see it when he’s sleeping in my arms, when it’s 3am and delirium has cloaked everything. Maybe it’s not so much delirium as it is a mirror into what will be – those things exist at 3am. No joke. Witches and magic and spirits and intuition. The 6th senses are very alive in the middle of the night.
Jack is beginning to see the world from new angles. He’s starting to sit up a little, still assisted, but he’s got the core of Thor, so I suspect he’ll be upright on his own in no time. He’s also trying to crawl, god help us, and gets his butt in the air, his body to his knees and throws himself forward. It must be really frustrating to want to move and not be able to. I don’t blame him for screaming all the time while he’s down there. I hear ya, buddy! On top of all this, he also has his first tooth! We had no idea, I mean he’s been so drooly and gooey for months that when people asked if he was teething, we said, probably, but nothing ever seemed to happen. The other day, I looked and poof! He cut a tooth without a peep. Who is this kid?!
It’s been a big week. Shots finally because he’d been sick for so long we had to wait until he was well (finally he is well). Sleep. Oh sleep…
You know…
It’s still hard for me to find a balance between creativity and motherhood. I literally have limited brain function. Things that aren’t vital to surviving day-to-day are thrown out the window. Please don’t ask me where I left my keys. I have no memory of putting the emergency brake on. Why do I keep losing my sunglasses?
And then I think, if I write one poem a day, just one, think of how many I’d have at the end of the year. But even one poem a day for the fruitful is hard. Out of that you’d get what, 50 good ones?
So there are parts of me on hold. Parts of me growing. Parts of me lonely in motherhood. Parts of me shut off or nicely put, hibernating. Someday, I won’t be so tired. Someday, I’ll get back to it or find the creative road I’m supposed to be on. Mammas still got dreams. As we should.

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