When working late on a Sunday night editing shitty writing featuring commas sprinkled like confetti (apparently there only for decoration) and subject matter that is violent and monotonous and goofy all at the same damned time, at least I can drink smooth, velvety red wine. I couldn’t do that at my old corporate job.
See, I’m stickin’ it to the Man, one sip, one comma at a time.
Yesterday Asher was playing in his crib. Then he got up on his knees! I ran to get the camera. We expect him to crawl soon.
Then, he surprised us!
It’s hard to go so long without a proper night’s sleep. Even four uninterrupted hours in a row would do me a world of good, I’m sure.
Asher seems to enjoy our moments alone together, curled up in the big bed, post shower. His skin is damp and fresh, toes wrinkled. His little mouth is open wide, waiting for the nursing that comes next. He grips my body with tight little fingers, sometimes squeezing too hard. He doesn’t know about hurting yet. He is smooth and plump, hair downy and thick, now, I see. Feet wiggle and toes grasp as though they don’t yet realize they aren’t fingers, too. Eskimos have got nothing on Asher’s kisses. Big, slobbery, whole-face rubs tell me I’m his beloved. His arms go around my neck and he pulls the back of my hair so hard I’m forced to come close. His mouth tries to close over my nose, his eyes squint and he squeals his urgency to hold on. I think it’s instinct; he clutches at me for safety, food, and love. He doesn’t judge me. He’s comfortable in my curves. They are home to him. We are nose to nose, cooing at each other, with nothing in between us, until a little foot intrudes and he brings his toes to his mouth. He is a ball of roly-poly boy, folding himself any which way, practicing and exploring. He smiles when I warm the sweet-smelling lotion and rub it into his skin. Asher accepts his massage as if it were his due; the Universe bestows pleasing experiences on him as a matter of course. He expects it, and this makes me happy because he knows no other negative experience. He babbles and hoots and hollers. His breath quickens and blue eyes sparkle when I produce the silk and let it flutter down on him. He knows the game. The silk is warm to our touch and he pulls it off his smiling face. He’s expecting my greeting and he delights in it as if we’ve been apart longer than just the moment he’s been covered. When the breeze blows through the window, he sucks it in greedily. Fresh air, soft bed, warm cuddles, and milk: these sensations define our alone time. He complains when I dress him.
Have a couple of moments just now. More aliens and ninja are on their way and will arrive in my inbox soon.
We had a really nice weekend. I didn’t have to work too much, and that was a treat.
We have been feathering our nest, so to speak.
I swear I feel LIBERATED! We’re free at last of that awful, ugly thing. That damn carpet was here when we bought our house eight years ago and we have hated it every day since then. We always intended to replace it, but there was always something else on fire, some higher-priority item needing to be purchased. We didn’t know what was actually under the carpet: hard wood? concrete? plywood? And since we didn’t know if we could live with the floor underneath, we hesitated to rip up the carpet, fearing the worst. Well, we finally did it. It’s gone and awaiting pick up by the county at our curb. Underneath was worn, hard wood floor. It’s not in the best shape, especially in the high traffic areas, but it looks savable.
Lucas worked really hard and helped us pull out all the staples. I’m really very proud of him. He is such a little man now and loves to work on projects, especially if he can wield tools himself.
The new furniture was delivered on Saturday evening and we put it in the room atop the newly exposed floor. For now, the floor will do just fine until we can refinish it and/or get a rug. Our bedroom actually looks wonderful. It’s nice to fix up something for us, to create a more beautiful sanctuary for Ian and me.
Of course, fixing up one room always requires trashing others. We bought some new shelves from IKEA that will serve to carve out an office space for me in the living room. Eventually, my office will have to become Asher’s bedroom, so we’re taking the first steps toward that end now while we have some money in the bank. Lucas and Ian are joyfully anticipating HOURS of IKEA product assembly.
Morning. Lucas is at school. Ian’s at a big meeting downtown. Asher is asleep for the moment. I’m enjoying my second cup of coffee and procrastinating on chapter 5.
It’s been a good but busy week. Getting back to the school-year daily schedule has been challenging for me. It feels limiting to have to be home and have Lucas in bed by 8 p.m. My own body/mind is on a 24-hour clock these days, by which I mean that I’m not always asleep during normal sleeping hours, not always working during normal working hours, and not always relaxing during normal relaxing hours. (It makes sense to me, but probably isn’t comprehendible by others.)
I finished two jobs on Tuesday. I’m wrestling with one now and another one is about to flood in again, on the weekend, after a hiatus that was beyond my control. I’m honestly a little tired, but don’t have the time to rest.
Asher’s will is coming through more these days. He very clearly expresses displeasure whenever I leave his sight. This is the start of separation anxiety, which is unfortunate because I now feel a few hours away from him would do me a lot of good.
He’s starting to rock back and forth on his butt and lean waaaaaay out in front to reach for things or to suck on his toes. He basically folds himself in half to do this. I hope, hope, hope that he’ll wait at least another two months before he crawls, but I can tell he’s contemplating the benefits of mobility and practicing movements and strengthening his core. He’s complaining less when placed on his tummy now; he pops up and lifts his upper body with his arms to look around. He has decided that it’s cool to drop things onto the floor.
Asher is also very interested in food: So far he’s had apples, broccoli, carrots, sweet potatoes, butternut squash & corn, bananas, avocadoes, plums, and rice cereal. He clearly prefers the fruits to the veggies, but I persevere. I’m making most of it myself, which is cool because I can make it with organic produce and breastmilk or water, so I know exactly what is in his food. We are still breastfeeding lots, which makes me happy. It’s getting easier now, as Ian can feed Asher baby food if I’m away when he gets hungry.
I’m tired. Too tired to be socially outgoing. Too tired to reach out to friends. Seems kind of pointless to do so when I know they are all busy beyond comfort. Sometimes I get tired of being the one to reach out; I have quite a few friendships for which that is the norm. I’m trying to stay in the present and enjoy small things–little moments of peace like this one, little accomplishments, little victories. The fall is coming, which leads me to indulge in moody thoughts and wistful fantasies that don’t much resemble my real life. The crazy is coming. I can feel it in the air.
Oh. There’s the baby …
EDIT: Just to clarify: the relationships for which I feel I am the primary reacher-outer are not with the dear people who read my LJ. I’m talking about friendships that are in some cases newer and/or outside of family. I didn’t write that to make anyone feel accused or guilty.
My nature boys in Tahoe at Echo Lake. (Asher is in the backpack sleeping.)
Asher at six months exactly (in these next three pictures).
Toes are especially yummy.
First touch of sand. August 11, 2007.
“This is the best day of my life!”
“Why?”
“I get to do lowercase letters!”
Today is also the first day of school, but Lucas is home sick instead. The irony is clear to me. He’s “working” on his “homework,” which is a skill building book for mainstream school readiness. We gave it to him because he’s internally motivated to work on letters, color the pictures, and connect the dots, etc. It gives him his own “chapters” to work on beside me while I work on editing chapters.
It’s TOOOOO strategyguidey here! I’ve been working hard editing all weekend, with only a few short breaks with my family. I’m tired and I’m nowhere near done. That fact is hard to face right now. It’s going to be a very long week with many, many deadlines. (I shouldn’t even be writing now.)
My friends are arriving/have arrived home from Burning Man and I don’t have time to call them to see how they are and if they’re safe and happy and pleased with their experiences. This makes me frustrated!
It was a big weekend for Big Boy milestones. Lucas got over his fear of jumping off the diving board when he saw TishTash jumping in. He now swims in the deep end of the pool fearlessly. I’m very proud of him. It’s exciting to see him leap into space and splash into the water because I remember how gloriously thrilling that felt when I was a child.
Lucas also decided that today was the day to take the training wheels off his bike: It’s time to learn to ride without them, he says. Lucas’s buddies don’t use training wheels anymore, so he’s not going to either. Ian and Lucas practiced riding without them in the grassy field at the end of our street. Lucas mildly accepted the bumps he got and isn’t afraid of falling off, he says. Practice, practice, practice is all he needs.
We also flipped his bed upside down so that he’s now sleeping on the upper platform (the bed is meant to do that: the child can sleep either low or high). Now he has a nifty little fortlike space under his bed. We rearranged all the furniture in his room and brought a desk in there. It looks more like a boy’s room now, like he’ll be comfortable using it and spending more time in there now. (But I’m not painting over the fish mural for at least another year: First he has to decide on what he REALLY wants his room to look like. Right now he changes his mind all the time: airplanes! No, space ships! No, cars! No, bugs!
I guess all these Big Boy changes are happening because school is about to start. He’s starting his second year of Kindergarten and will be one of the big kids. Wow.
