In the middle of folding a napkin out of the teaming basket of freshly laundered whites, I decided it was time to start blogging again. That was precisely three minutes ago. Now here I sit with a half drank Sailor and coke, while one kid naps and two vegetate in front of the silver screen. It is Sunday and everything is very calm. My sewing machine is gathering dust, my knitting sits ignored in tangles and there are giant dust bunnies under my bed. Most of the house looks clean... but it is an illusion. There are pockets of deep disorder, that I have had neither the time nor the will power to remedy.
What I have been focusing on is making it from Point A to Point B. I am the great mover and organizer of things and people. I am the scheduler and the facilitator. The mother of many hats, but always the mother. My youngest brings me immeasurable joy. Babies are the ultimate gift. especially by the time they are three months old, like Lola, they are but a bundle of gooey smiles and promise.
My two and a half year old is a challenge. And every thinker relishes a challenge. Our life together is a dance. Not so much like a shuck and jive but more like something sweaty in a mosh-pit. Georgia rocks my world every day... then each night looks me in the eye, cups my cheeks with her still dimpled fingers and tells me, "Mommy, I always love you." Oh, Georgia. If you only knew.
Georgia used to only wear dresses, now she only wears jammies!
My Son? My Jacob? He is too easy. In the mornings when everyone else is still sleeping, he makes his way up to our bed. There he comes in and I murmur, "Go pee." He does then he asks, "Where is the IPad at?" He knows where it is, but he still asks. It is plugged into charge and sitting on the night stand. (You bet your biscuits we plug it in and make damn-sure it is sitting there before we called it lights-out, so it will be ready for him at 4:50 in the morning) He proceeds to unplug it, find his spot at the foot of the bed and watch a movie. Then he swipes to his Montessorium math games, and then to Balls of Steal, while Lola, Smoochy, and I sleep for another two hours. It is working.
Of course he still takes a monster nap!
I have not been creative in MONTHS. I have been taking in, not putting out (just ask Smoochy). I thought I might spend the first quarter of Lola's first year blogging like I did when Normy was still Normy (these days he is most definitely Jacob... or maybe Francie, as in Jacob Francis). But, the Internet has not excited me lately. I can't even tell you it's because I've been busy immersing myself in real life, because that is FAR from the the truth. What's really been going down is complete and total escapism. I have lost count, but I can tell you I have read over thirty novels this year. It has been the perfect hobby for nursing a wee one. Not that I couldn't have just gazed at Lola for eight hours a day, seven days a week... because she really is so sweet I might have been able too. Well, OK let's be real, I have needed some STIMULATION. And I am not talking about my nipples here. I am talking about my sadly atrophying brain. I have needed some adventure, some epic, some FANTASY.
But, I think I'm about to break away from the books and focus a bit more on the world around me. I am ending my endless stream of novels on the perfect note, Steven Kings seventh and final novel in the Dark Tower series. This little known (for King) post-apocolyptic science fiction wild-west fantasy epic is King's swan song and has special meaning for me and my life. I would try to describe it but I can't. Needless to say I read the first four novels while in the throws of teenage love back in the late nineties. These novels had special meaning to me then. But after King's near fatal meeting with a minivan while on is daily walk... The Dark Tower nearly fell for us all. But, he finished the series despite insurmountable odds... and I have moved on from that near-fatal teenage love and to come full circle and read it all again... as well as the three concluding novels that he was able to write many years after his accident. Well, it just feels good. Closure. Weird, OK. That's true. But, after finishing this last book I think I'm ready to put down the books, get back in the kitchen, pick up my knitting needles, and oh yea, PLAY WITH MY KIDS. ;-)
Life is good here. The seasons are changing. I didn't notice it last year while it was happening. I remember thinking last October: Isn't it supposed to be getting around to fall? But, this year is different. Maybe it is the weekly drives I have been making into the fields of Nebraska in route to a couple of local farms for veggies, eggs, and milk... but I have been able to see the slow progression from brilliant never ending green to a golding that seems to be sweeping the fields. Mostly all is still emerald, but the corn fields are armies of brown stalks and there are late blooming sunflowers linings the highways. The grasses have all gone to seed, and our air conditioning has been off for about three weeks now. I feel fall coming. I am ready for sweaters and jeans, and saying good bye to my skirts and flip flops.
With autumn upon us, I an struck by how far we've come. It was last September that I discovered I was pregnant with Lola. Now here I am with a FAT GRINNING CHERUB who sits on my lap and pulls my hair. She is on her way to being able to roll over. She can hold a rattle and has already grown out of two sizes of clothes and diapers. She is already wearing her medium Thirsties! Good lord. Where does it go? They are only babies for a blink. She is easily the most contented and peaceful soul I have ever met. Lola will sit for over an hour in her little seat while I do kitchen work, as long as I sing and talk to her as I go about my business. Each time our eyes meet, her face splits in a mighty grin, as though she is saying to me, "That's right, Mama. I just need to know I am on your mind. I just need to know you love me." She is too easy. Breastfeeding and co-sleeping make everything simple. She nurses several times a night, but I never wake all the way up and she NEVER cries. She just grunts and wiggles towards me so I know it is time to put a nipple in her mouth. Sleep is good.
What else? Well, I guess that's it. Maybe I'll keep this up. It was nice to talk about our life here. It is sweet just now. I go through my day thinking about savoring every second because I KNOW this is the most precious time of my life. The time I'll miss and the time I'll reminisce about. Back when I was a bartender in my twenties, I vividly remember telling my forever best friend one night, as we rocked out the upstairs bar of a big ass Florida nightclub, scantily clad and drunk beyond words while we slung drinks and presided over shot-thirty, that this was unquestionably AS GOOD AS IT GETS. I was WRONG. Dead wrong. Motherhood doesn't leave you with cotton-mouth searching for the Advil the next day.
