a.rose

I kiss your nose, your forehead, your cheek, your chin. I squeeze you tightly to me and feel your soft squishiness give. I look in your eyes and you look back at me and in my heart I feel a tugging ache I cannot fully define. I ache because you are my baby, mine to squeeze and squish. I ache because in this predawn darkness under the blankets we form a cocoon and every day you are closer to emerging out of it into the world. I ache because every morning you wake up you are my baby, but every morning you are a little less my baby and a little more your own self. I ache and I ache and I laugh at the joy it makes me feel to hurt this way. You look at me laughing and it makes you laugh too. It seems that this might have been your last time nursing.  It felt that way, how you kept your body unusually still as if you, too, were savoring the moment.  Your legs were carefully curled up, tucked tightly next to mine, your little hand free and tapping gently on my chest, just

Last night as I was talking with my sister the topic of all the junk that sits on our computers for years that we don't really know what to do with but we never look at and where did most of it come from anyway? She emailed me a few items that she had on her computer that she thought I would find interesting, and she had some real classics.  I was really happy to see this one resurface, I don't think I even have it saved, having gone through so many computer hard drive crashes over the years. I really need to figure out some way to back up my system so that I can save all the random junk that collects on a computer over the years. Because you know, as you look back on it, some of that junk is pretty priceless. "PhDevin" Devin is a person Who speaks in weighty terms, He puts the Cossack curse on Bacteria and germs. In mystic laboratories, With tubes, retorts, and sinks He wins undying glories By making

Here are a few of our little stories from this week. Two or three (or more) nights out of the week Heather gets out of her bed and crawls into "mother's bed", as she calls it.  It doesn't bother me, as long as she is quiet and falling asleep I am happy with it. Tonight as I tucked her in "mother's bed" I realized that our curtains were still wide open, and the full moon was shining brightly down, it's light landing gently right on my pillow.  I knew it would keep me awake, so I asked her if she wanted me to close the curtains, or if she wanted to fall asleep looking at the moon. She whispered back at me, "Looking at the moon, mother." I kissed her forehead and said, "ok, the moon will watch you sleep and keep you safe." She turned away from the moon to look at me, "Who will watch me sleep, mother?" "Well, the man in the moon of course," I answered her, wondering how old I was the first time someone

Heather has taken to calling me mother, lately.  I like it. Every day I sit down with Hazel and I look deep into her eyes and I say clearly enunciating the word, "Ma-ma". And she stares at me and she smiles and she drools and then she stands up and walks off to go see what sisters are doing and so even though I am pretty sure she says "dada" and even a mashed up version of "sisters" - sounds kind of like "de-s-ders!" She has yet to say "mama." I'm resigned to it. By the time she starts really talking she will probably just call me "mother" anyway. Good thing I'm used to it, yeah?