I am torn as a mother. I am mended

On our walk, I don’t question the nocturnal nature of crickets as I hear one chirping confidently in daylight, the fact that it’s morning, that it’s winter. But winter here is the taste of citrus on a cool breeze with warm tendrils promising warm days.
We run over a decomposing bird with Jack’s red tricycle. I forget that I’ve made a note to avoid it. I don’t want it stuck to us, following us as we pass the neighborhood’s progress: old houses being renovated, the ocotillo fuzzy with green after so many bare months, newly laid lawns. I’ve been gifted this perfect egg – an egg who seems happy pushing the reach of my hands, rolling off couches, throwing itself to the ground testing just how hard the world can hit. I don’t want him to know yet. Not quite yet.
I wonder if he saw the bird? If he can somehow feel death? If that knowledge is something we are inherently born with? Life is so loud, but he is the drum – the steady innocence, the same corners we pass, the same bricks, mailboxes and feral cats; the beat of my life and he calls to them without fear. The world has yet to teach him these things. I wish I didn’t have to.
I am torn as a mother. The day he was fastened to life, I broke. And he takes and everyone takes and I keep my body wide open to suck in as much as I can to give away in the same instant. He needs breakfast – to see me properly using a fork. He needs music – to see me closing my eyes to something greater than myself. He needs love – to watch his father kiss me before leaving for work. He needs everything.
I am mended as a mother. The days after he broke me, I began to heal. The stitches dissolved, the bleeding stopped. I can see who he was, who he is and who he will be in the same instant. He is the dream I build awake, sleeping and in all the delirium between. In his eyes my past mistakes and heartbreaks hold no weight, there is only the downy feather he sees tumbling through the grass and the giant black bee buzzing above his head. The world is beginning and I will always remain the first person he ever knew.
As we round the corner for home, I hear the chirping, peek into a bush to see if we can discover the culprit together, but it stops. We move and the chirping begins again and I quickly realize it was never a cricket defying his night song, but the wheel of Jack’s tricycle carrying us through the morning.

Posted in Jack, wandering mind, When the sun shines inside | 4 Comments

Kindness is cool

hide and seek

rock thief

I miss this guy today. Although, I’m too tired to possibly run after him if we were home. That’s how it is though, right? You can’t wait to put them to bed and have some alone time, but the minute you put them to bed for some alone time, you miss the crap out of them. I never realized motherhood was so bipolar, such a pull of one emotion to it’s complete opposite.
He’s a great sleeper, sleeps through the night, but I’m always still tired. Why hasn’t that gone away?

We went to sushi with some friends last night. I drank too much Sapphoro.Jack is becoming such a little boy already. Throwing his body all over mine in the booth, learning how to wrestle (thanks to his Dad), flinging his head into my mouth, his hands to my eyes, his feet to my boobs – all the soft spots! Sometimes as he’s squirming his body all over mine, I feel like those tiger mothers on nature programs: their cubs, clawing, biting, swatting and the mother just batting them away trying to sleep off the hot afternoon.

How do you teach patience? The other morning I was on the toilet and Jack walks in with a book. I’m mid pee, trying to turn the pages of quite honestly the largest board book we own, the dimensions of an encyclopedia and I’m trapped on the pot with my ass hanging out, on my period with the door wide open. Shit or get off right? Not for a mom…
Do I sit there and read the book 8 times to keep him happy or do I willingly throw myself to the inevitable tantrum waiting for me the minute I stand up?
His tantrums are pretty short-lived so far, but he’s very impatient. I totally get it. Who wants to wait for what they want?! Gimme Gimme! And I’m like that as an adult, only I’m not allowed to throw myself on the floor when it doesn’t happen. Sucks. I didn’t win any of the coveted SND (Society of News Design aka Design oscars) awards this year and I’ve been sulking about it for a week because I felt like my portfolio was really strong this year and I know it’s the work that matter and how you feel about the work that matters, but fuck, man! I really wanted one this year. Just one. Just one! And maybe if I did throw a tantrum on the floor instead of quietly crying about it once the night I found out, I might be over it? I think there’s a lot Jack and I can learn from each other. Throw that emotion out there the minute you feel it! He tests my patience as I learn to teach him patience.

It’s Friday. I’d like to be on here more. I’m going to try and be on here more if nothing else to document his days, so slippery are these days. Much too fast. Much too fast. He’s 16 months old. His face has grown up so much. God, he’s cute. You know what I hate? Those stupid shirts and sayings you give to boys that says “heart breaker.” Who the hell wants that for their son? If my son breaks hearts, he’s an asshole. Sure the inevitable will occur, that’s life, people’s hearts get broken, but damn, I don’t want him to make it a habit. I’ve seen a shirt that says “kindness is cool” I hope that’s more him jam. That’s the world I want him to live in anyway. That and “ain’t no mama like the one I got.” That’s a good shirt.

Posted in Jack, seasons, Uncategorized, wandering mind, When the sun shines inside | 4 Comments

Stylish free-thinker?! ha, sure!

Jack and I were featured as “stylish free-thinkers” for a pretty awesome clothing company called The LB Brand. A few months ago they were searching for brand reps, so I submitted myself. What the hell right? Free shirt, a free shirt I actually love and makes me feel kinda sexy (which is hard to come by these days). Anyway, here’s my Q&A with Jack!

photo by my amazing mom, Debbie Aldridge

photo by my amazing mom, Debbie Aldridge

Posted in Jack, Photos, seasons, When the sun shines inside | 2 Comments

Oh, hello!

Wow. Has it been a while. I’m feeling rusty even navigating the website. I haven’t been writing. Just working and mom-ing. But I’m getting anxious. Maybe not to write per-say, but create. And I don’t know what to create and that’s making me even more anxious. I see other moms around me who are selling art and photographing and making clothes and it’s hard not to compare. The existential “is this all there is?” to being a parent, but still being a person.
I had a reading a few months ago. It was so great. I was asked to submit to a lit mag here in Phoenix (which in itself is like a huge accomplishment that they would even think of me) and the project was about this really amazing diner downtown. They were compiling a chapbook of poems about this sense of place and community. I took an old, unfinished poem and turned it for the chapbook, but it made the poem, gave it a purpose. Here it is:

Welcome, diner

A stranger sighs warm parchment on my neck. I inhale her story; learn what her huff is about. The “Loud Luggage” bumps Metallica in the corner, 5 PM and cups of coffee I know I shouldn’t have because of the baby.
In the mornings, my belly is tight and pulsing the way blood rushes to a part of your body that’s healing. I swear my heart is beating there instead of my chest. I am creating. My heart is beating there.
I watch a little girl who has never been to a city before, our smallest high-rises filling her eyes, a destitute man sleeping in our shadow. “He’s just tired,” her father lies as a three-legged dog hops by. “Hello!” she waves to them both. “Let’s buy them coffee.”
Children promise and I want to promise my son everything: roofs for the poor, legs for the legless, good meals, good souls, fried chicken and a clothesline to air his loves when they break his heart. All of us need to come home. There’s music I’ll play. It will always be the same song.
The little girl walks up to a diner, tugs at her father who gives her a wade of dollars. She presses them in her palm. Through the window, her freckles reflect constellations.
The stools can hardly contain their gallant blue. The grease skips on the grill.

Jack came to the reading. I even took him up there with me to calm my nerves. It was way past his bedtime. He kept trying to grab the book. I loved it. I had had a beer or two, calmed the nerves, but it’s amazing how much strength your kids give you – standing up for yourself and for them, finally getting the courage to go talk to the neighbor about their dog shitting on your lawn, calling the insurance company again and again and again. Things don’t seem nearly as hard anymore in that regard … or mostly they seem less important. Jack puts a lot of things in perspective about which fights to pick and what to let go of.

———–

He’s almost 14 months old. How the hell did that happen?! We are done nursing, he did that all by himself. He’s starting to walk, he’s doing that all by himself. He’s sticking his face in cups to hear the distortion of his own voice, he’s doing that all by himself. I’m just his railing.

He is the sweetest boy – loves hugs and being close to us. He even nuzzles his head onto mine. He looks to us for approval if he’s not being gentle enough with Tula and will then rest his head on her belly.

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Photo by Jill McNamara

Photo by Jill McNamara

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Anyway, I have all this internal energy, but not enough energy. And also, motherhood has made me really vulnerable, so much so that if I feel too much I might split apart and so I’m trying to do things that don’t really matter very much – play video games and buy too many clothes for Jack and decorate our new house. This whole writing thing requires a lot of feeling and I’m scared of it right now. I think before, when I was the only thing occupying my heart, I could poke at it. But now, I have so much to lose and even tiptoeing around my inner-self is like walking on glass.
I need to commit again. Every time I’m here it feels like an old friend – we haven’t talked in a long time, but it’s so easy.
I hope you are all well. I will check in with you. I hope to be back more. Before Jack was born, I never wanted to be one of those people who only wrote/talked about their kids. But literally, what else is there?

Posted in Jack, When the sun shines inside, Writing Life | 4 Comments

Great with Child

From "Great with Child," Beth Ann Fennelly

From “Great with Child,” Beth Ann Fennelly

‘Great with Child,’ Beth Ann Fennelly. Sometimes, I’m afraid to really start writing again because my heart has changed so much, feels as Fennelly says ‘endangered’ and I’m still trying to navigate the new terrain. I feel more acutely than I ever have before and I’m a poet, so that’s a hell of a lot more than I’m used to. I can only crack the door right now. She’s right. There is absolutely no way to contain it. I feel as if I’m putting up a barrier when I try. I’m scared to dig in. And I know in my head that the fear or when you are scared in writing (I suppose life, too) that you jump in. But I guess I’m not ready yet.
Another poet also said that there are observation phases, but I sometimes feel that’s a cop-out for not writing, even though I would say I’m in that phase. I go through spells. A year or two of hibernation and then a year or so of intense writing. The years are long in that regard. The guilt is there. Though sometimes I’m too tired to feel guilty. And not that you need to be in a sad state to write, but there needs to be some sort of churning, I think, at least for me and right now, I’m really happy. I feel the pull around the edges, which I suppose is a reminder that it’s still there. And then as I write that another voice in my head says I’m making excuses and I probably am.

I was listening to an NPR interview with Alan Alda this morning. He was talking about a moment he almost died in Chile when he had to have an emergency operation. He said the event made him appreciate life more, not that he didn’t before, but it gave him a new sense or life, a new love and drive for it. I feel motherhood is exactly that – before you’re a mother you know how to love, know what love is and what it feels like, but after the moment your baby is born it’s a whole new level, the colors seem brighter, you love on an entirely new plane.
Alda also said something which is not really related, but I liked. A friend of his said about our distance with death: We all know it’s going to happen, just not in our lifetime.

Also, Jack is almost one. In three months, he’s turning one and I honestly can’t account for the time. I honestly can’t wrap my head around how that happened. “I can’t wait for him to be a little boy,” Pat said. “He’s going to be a two-year old little boy and then a three year old little boy and then a four…” “And then he’s going to be a 30-year old little boy and we’ll be old as balls.” Seriously. That’s how time is happening. Warming up my bagel this morning, 20 seconds just flew. It’s strange when you see time winding down like that. It makes it tangible. I know it’s seconds, but they add up. And almost a whole year of them has passed us.
We transitioned Jack to his crib full time. I took it harder than he did. I was actually pretty sad about it. I still am a little. He’s getting bigger is what it means to me. He already skipped his nursing session this morning. I’m being replaced by a banana. It’s good. It’s all good. Just the passage of time and it’s so much more obvious with a little person when ever day is a huge milestone. I was updating his baby book last night and looking at picture of him in the past months. It’s still him. His face was always there, never smooshed or awkward. He’s always been our beautiful boy. And I know I’ll always see him for who he was and who he will be.

Happy 8 months, Jack! He's obviously very cooperative, loves Tula (he's growing on her), still loves trees, laughing, eating, wiping food on my arms. He's learning to clap and says da-da even though I'm his favorite. He's in 6-12 month clothes because every company does whatever the hell they want as far as sizes. Oh and he's getting his fourth tooth, ate his first piece of cat food and is still the happiest boy on the block.

Happy 8 months, Jack! He’s obviously very cooperative, loves Tula (he’s growing on her), still loves trees, laughing, eating, wiping food on my arms. He’s learning to clap and says da-da even though I’m his favorite. He’s in 6-12 month clothes because every company does whatever the hell they want as far as sizes. Oh and he’s getting his fourth tooth, ate his first piece of cat food and is still the happiest boy on the block.

Teeth!

Teeth!

Father's Day

Father’s Day

My 31st birthday selfie

My 31st birthday selfie

Trip to Portland last week

Trip to Portland last week

jackhaircurl

Cannon Beach, OR.

Cannon Beach, OR.

Greatest American. Happy 4th of July!

Greatest American. Happy 4th of July!

Fam photo on Cannon Beach, OR.

Fam photo on Cannon Beach, OR.

Happy 9 months, Jack-O! Still the happiest baby alive. I woke up about 8x last night while Jack slept in his crib all night and got up once. His 6 teeth are really sharp. Motherhood makes you cry during Jurassic World. Took his second airplane ride to Portland. Owned it in his fedora. Loves to smear his food all over mom, clap, bang on stuff, crawl into inaccessible places, pull himself up. Preferred pooping position: on his stomach with his head down. About 28 in. And 20lbs. Kill in' it! So loved!

Happy 9 months, Jack-O! Still the happiest baby alive. I woke up about 8x last night while Jack slept in his crib all night and got up once. His 6 teeth are really sharp. Motherhood makes you cry during Jurassic World. Took his second airplane ride to Portland. Owned it in his fedora. Loves to smear his food all over mom, clap, bang on stuff, crawl into inaccessible places, pull himself up. Preferred pooping position: on his stomach with his head down. About 28 in. And 20lbs. Kill in’ it! So loved!

Dig in!

Posted in Jack, Photos, Videos, wandering mind, When the sun shines inside, Writing Life | 4 Comments

Cuddles

Curled into me last night, I lay down with Jack to help him to sleep. He doesn’t go down easy. He needs contact and cuddles and I’m sure we are doing something wrong in some expert’s mind about getting our boy to eventually sleep by himself, but when we’re all tired and he goes down next to someone in 5 min instead of 30 min of hysterical crying, um, you pick the 5 min. Plus, it’s extra time with him. Pat and I seem to switch off nights. We’ve only really been doing this for a couple weeks, when the double ear infection-teething-road trip without a crib happened. I used to worry about it. I don’t care anymore. I figure for the next 10 years, we’ll have a kid in our bed for some reason or another. And we both like hearing him giggle in his sleep, so for now, as long as we are breast feeding, as long as he’s continuing to wake up a few times a night, we’ll let him continue to kick us in the stomach/throat/boobs (my boobs, not Pat’s)/back.
I was reminded last night of what it felt like to be pregnant and have him that close to me. He was pressed into my chest. He’s getting so long now, his feet resting on my thighs. And somewhere in between the dim light of the bathroom and his small snores, I felt peace, a real peace, the kind of peace where your whole body is floating, there’s nothing grinding in your heart, no worries, things to do, anxieties about the next day, nothing tugging just the lightest air.
I’ve read that human babies are born before their brains are fully developed. Because we stand upright and the monstrous size of our melons, we are born before we are totally ready – “exterior gestation” – meaning we still need our mothers to regulate our breathing, nourishment, digestion after birth. When a baby breaths in a mother’s CO2, it tells the baby’s brain to take a breath. That’s pretty cool when you think about it. Jack and I are still a unit like we were. What’s nice now, is he and his dad can be a different unit.
I just think back to our ancestors, how they used to sleep and react to their babies. I’m trusting my instincts, not reading sleeping books or parenting books, not stressing about what a certain group of people think is best for my baby. I feel like so far we’re doing pretty good. And who doesn’t like extra cuddles?

like father, like son

like father, like son

Posted in Jack, Photos, Uncategorized | 6 Comments

Firsts

God, I haven’t written!
Instead, I’ll just post a bunch of pictures =)
We’ve had Pat’s 32 birthday for which I commissioned a friend/coworker of mine to do a portrait of Jack. I think she nailed it. He will forever be daydreaming and watching the leaves. We also took our first road trip to LA – about a 5.5-6 hr drive. The way over was great, we left late, so Jack slept most of the way. It’s an easy drive on I-10. It’s a boring drive through the desert. Not much there, so breaking down with a baby would be pretty hellish. My car is good though. Trustworthy and we had a good friend coming with us to keep him company for the ride back (which would be during the day when he’s awake). It was a great trip, though. My first mother’s day, Jack’s first beach toes and Pat’s first 32nd birthday =) We stayed at my brother’s amazing house in Glendale and got to see my whole family: Aunt, Uncle, Uncle, Grandma, Mom, Step-dad, brother, sister-in-law. It’s pretty cool to see my Grandma (Jack’s Great-Grandma) with him. 3 generations of moms. How crazy I’m included in that now. There’s only 3 of us! A very elite, but not elitist club of amazing women.
Jack has two teeth and is getting his uppers, so between that and a double ear infection and shots Tuesday, he hasn’t been sleeping well the last couple weeks *coughmonths*. But he’s still so happy and people love being around him, which as his parents is pretty cool to see. I just stare at him and think about who he’s going to become. What his first words will be. What a great boy. Everyone tells us so. Where did he come from?
When we took him to the ocean, it was a pretty breezy day. The sun was out, not too cold, but we took his booties off and I carried him to the water. He giggled the entire way and I kept looking at him and around him to see what he was laughing about. I kept asking him, but he kept giggling. Finally, I realized the wind brushing his feet, tousling his hair, rustling his clothes was tickling him. He loves the wind. He loves most things. That’s the kind of boy he is. I love him for it. I love him dearly. He reminds me to look at the world in firsts.
So now pictures:
jackgigi

jackflex

jackbeach2

gmajack

brunch

mothersday

LOTRjack

jackvenice

jackpat

jacknurse

jackgenerations

jackcarry

jackbeetlejuice

jackbeach

happyjack

A while ago, I commissioned Awesome Audrey Tate to paint Jack for Pat's birthday. She nailed it! Jack will forever be daydreaming out the window, watching the leaves. Thanks, Audrey!!!

A while ago, I commissioned Awesome Audrey Tate to paint Jack for Pat’s birthday. She nailed it! Jack will forever be daydreaming out the window, watching the leaves. Thanks, Audrey!!!

Oh geez! I also won Designer of the Year for the whole state of Arizona haha. So that’s cool news! Go working moms!

Posted in Jack, Photos, Uncategorized, When the sun shines inside | 6 Comments

Jack from 1-7!

Sneeze case study. Happy one month, Jack! 9lbs13oz, caught his first cold, loves to smile, doesn't care when mom drops food on his face and loves fleece upon fleece

Sneeze case study. Happy one month, Jack! 9lbs13oz, caught his first cold, loves to smile, doesn’t care when mom drops food on his face and loves fleece upon fleece

Case study of a laugh. Happy 2 months, Jack! He loves to eat, laughs every time dad changes him (sucker); smiles constantly; hates the car, but who would want to be strapped down anyway; loves the sound of water; could take or leave bathing; and just slept for 5.5 hrs last night. Jack for the win.

Case study of a laugh. Happy 2 months, Jack! He loves to eat, laughs every time dad changes him (sucker); smiles constantly; hates the car, but who would want to be strapped down anyway; loves the sound of water; could take or leave bathing; and just slept for 5.5 hrs last night. Jack for the win.

Anatomy of grabby hands: 3 months old! It takes mom 35 min of rocking me to go to sleep. I then sleep for 35 min. I think that's fair. I love giggling, kicking and desperately want to crawl. The car seat is getting better cause I can look out the window while I shove my hands in my mouth. I get lots of toe jam. Nico is my bff in daycare, but I know in my heart the teacher loves me more.

Anatomy of grabby hands: 3 months old! It takes mom 35 min of rocking me to go to sleep. I then sleep for 35 min. I think that’s fair. I love giggling, kicking and desperately want to crawl. The car seat is getting better cause I can look out the window while I shove my hands in my mouth. I get lots of toe jam. Nico is my bff in daycare, but I know in my heart the teacher loves me more.

Happy 4 months, Love Bug! Let's see, he's been sick for about a month, is the best-dressed at daycare (also the happiest), he gets stuck mid-roll and gets mad, has found his outside voice and loves to sleep smushed into our armpits

Happy 4 months, Love Bug! Let’s see, he’s been sick for about a month, is the best-dressed at daycare (also the happiest), he gets stuck mid-roll and gets mad, has found his outside voice and loves to sleep smushed into our armpits

Hi, I'm Jack. I'm 5 months old. I love to laugh, look at the wind through the trees, poop out my diapers, JUMP JUMP JUMP, stick my hands in my mouth (which is probably how I wound up in the hospital with RSV and now have bronchiolitis two weeks later). I also love my bink and hanging on to mom's face. Bed head? Yes, please! I still have dad's ears. 15lbs 10oz and 26.5 in.

Hi, I’m Jack. I’m 5 months old. I love to laugh, look at the wind through the trees, poop out my diapers, JUMP JUMP JUMP, stick my hands in my mouth (which is probably how I wound up in the hospital with RSV and now have bronchiolitis two weeks later). I also love my bink and hanging on to mom’s face. Bed head? Yes, please! I still have dad’s ears. 15lbs 10oz and 26.5 in.

Holy crap. I can no longer use 'I just had a baby' as an excuse for a flabby belly. Jack is 6 months old today! He has two teeth, loves blowing raspberries and talking at 4 am and 6 am. He loves watching the trees outside our window. He gagged on some cheese this morning an licked some toast. He's sitting up and so ready to crawl, but not quite there. Jumping? Yes, please! Screeching? Yes, please! He is such a joy. We love being his parents.

Holy crap. I can no longer use ‘I just had a baby’ as an excuse for a flabby belly. Jack is 6 months old today! He has two teeth, loves blowing raspberries and talking at 4 am and 6 am. He loves watching the trees outside our window. He gagged on some cheese this morning an licked some toast. He’s sitting up and so ready to crawl, but not quite there. Jumping? Yes, please! Screeching? Yes, please! He is such a joy. We love being his parents.

Happy 7 months, Jack! He loves the wind on his toes and still loves watching the leaves. He stuck his feet in the pacific, took his first road trip and sometimes sleeps with one eye open because he doesn't want to miss all the cool stuff. He has two teeth, is getting more and loves to chew on apples and phones and paper (the 7 in photo one) and everything. Still the happiest boy, loves to laugh and people love being around him. We may never sleep again.

Happy 7 months, Jack! He loves the wind on his toes and still loves watching the leaves. He stuck his feet in the pacific, took his first road trip and sometimes sleeps with one eye open because he doesn’t want to miss all the cool stuff. He has two teeth, is getting more and loves to chew on apples and phones and paper (the 7 in photo one) and everything. Still the happiest boy, loves to laugh and people love being around him. We may never sleep again. 17.95 lbs and almost 27in.

Posted in Jack, Photos, Uncategorized, wandering mind, When the sun shines inside | Leave a comment

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.

Posted in Jack, Photos, Uncategorized, wandering mind, Writing Life | 6 Comments

Take a walk

kicks

There’s so much promise.
I bought these shoes on a whim. I mean, look at them?! I asked a friend “are these too girly for a boy?”
Obviously, if they are, it didn’t matter. I bought them. I mean, look at them?!
They are huge. They are walking shoes. They are an idea, a twinkle still in my mind. But they have so much promise.
We’ll go so many places. And Jack will walk there. That’s crazy. Right now, he’s working on sitting. He’s getting there. Mostly, he finds his feet and slumps over to play with them and then topples like a boulder or in some form of acrobatics he winds up on his tummy screeching with excitement as if to say “HOLYCRAPLOOKWHATIJUSTDID!”
I can’t wait until he can sit, until he can walk, until I can hear his little voice say my name (my new name): mom.
There are so many places I want to take him and maybe it’s because my own mom just bought me an early (EARLY like 4 months early) birthday present. See below:
These boots
Damn, we be stylin’.
Little man, may your feet be as curious as your fingers as curious as your mind.
Let’s do this!

Posted in Jack, Photos, Uncategorized, When the sun shines inside | 2 Comments
 

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