This will be quick because I should be sleeping. It was the first week of classes here, which means that there have been lots of changes, which means: tired mommies. My wife is smart. She’s in bed.
But I keep feeling like things are going by, and I want to remember them, and this space is like a bank of memories of this oh oh oh so fleeting time. So quickly, but with love:
- This little Dragon is ten weeks yesterday! TEN! S/he is fierce; I can feel it. I am in love and in awe and grateful. Greatly greatly so.
- Today was a Thursday, which is good good news because it means that Bubbie was in town. Bubbie, who works harder than anyone I know and who still shows up with more energy than I feel like I have on a good day. Who plays so hard with our boy. Who keeps up with the housework that we can’t seem to get a handle on this summer. I tell you, she is our hero. I literally think we’d have gone to Crazyville this summer if it weren’t for her. Today, for example, there was fingerpainting. Finger freaking painting. My mom is cooler than me. She knows things.
- My classes this week were… harder than I thought they’d be. Maybe it’s the part where I teach popular culture that’s throwing me because, I mean, we don’t even own a TV. It’s an awkward fit. And really, I had moments of magic on the second night, so maybe it’s just going to take a little while. Maybe I’ve done what we all do (or at least those of us who are unreasonably devoted to happiness), and I’ve blocked out all the crap and I’ve hung on to the magic and now I absurdly think it should all be magic when it’s a trudge just like anything else. Just like being here with Bram. Only it’s not being here with Bram. I mean, not for whole hours of every day. Which is just. It’s hard. For me. More on this soon. Give me time to fall in love with these new people. To find footing. To remember.
- I have an appointment with my orthopedic surgeon a week from today. He might say I can walk (in the boot, but whatevs) out of his office. WALK, people. Or he might say I can walk the following Monday. Either way, I’m at nearly eight weeks of no walking, and let no one fool you: being an active parent of a toddler with one leg is a son of a bitch. [I’m not fixing the misleading grammar here because come on: it is perspective granting.] But you know, it has not been without its worthwhile lessons. Only, I still have to clean up all the food Bram threw on the floor at dinner. And crutch up the stairs. So tonight? Not the day to regale you with those lessons. Let me stand on two feet first. Then I’ll find the glass half full and share it with you. It is my (no doubt demented) nature to do so. But not tonight. Tonight, I’m still annoyed to have one atrophied leg that might always hurt to walk on. But one week. Surgeon. Not nothing.
- And oh: I have a worrisome but probably fine ovarian cyst. It is tormenting me. And through it, I am tormenting my dear friend/midwife, and wife, and friends. They’re (not those people. or not most of those people.) going to look at it again in three months. It was weirdly diagnosed within a day of a similar cyst housed by another mama you all probably know. Lesbianism. A cysterhood? That looks even more absurd in writing, but it’s funny anyway. So okay, I can’t talk about it any more than that because I have medical anxieties that make me CRAZY. But I WILL say for those of you who’ve lived through my mania: there’s been no obsessive Cosby Show viewing. And only the Wild Things have been gnashing their teeth. I am growing. Let’s just hope the cyst isn’t. ;)
- My kid is absolutely blowing my mind. This I swear: he is so freaking awesome. So freaking cool. I just. He points to say “I love you.” And he identifies colors. And he counts to four without having any idea, I suspect, but still. Four! What?! He remembers things that I don’t even know he’s understanding. And today, when he woke up from his nap, he wanted to hug for like, fifteen minutes straight. And he’s just so happy. He’s just so honest and himself and I can’t imagine anything more important than helping him learn how to stay that way. I can’t believe I get to be his mama. It’s just the best best thing.
(This new t-shirt arrived in the mail today from M, S, B, and T. Three out of four of the mothers involved are space nerds. This one’s not, but she’ll go along for the ride for anything that looks this damn cute, and makes her kid this freaking happy.)