Thursday, April 20, 2006
The past couple of days have really knocked me off my schedule. It's Spring Break in these here parts and I have two vital family members who work for the school district just north of us. They have each had themselves a round of watching my sweet Chaos, and in the past few days I have gone on a date with Dadguy, and taken myself shopping. Also I ate some Panda Express in a park and did not have to push anyone in a swing or share my eggroll. I purchased a new pair of sandals, a shirt and the fist skirt I have bought for myself since I was pregnant with Birdie... and that skirt was a maternity skirt. It's not like I have purchased any dresses either, but I'm not digging for sympathy. I have nice and reasonably fashionable clothing, which since I am the mama of three small and active cusses tells you that I fairly often and have very recently purchased clothes for myself. Anything that has been around for more than six months? is stained to one degree or another.
and AHEM. This is not even getting into the issue that my pre-Birdie clothing was three sizes ago. Three babies three sizes- I ain't liking the trend here. Wait, this is NOT where I want to go today! The first inkling I had that there were some mama's out there as fruity as myself was via a writer who keeps a weekly journal at ParentCenter.com. Her name is Catherine Newman, and the following is how I feel... (she calls her daughter Birdy, and for the purposes of this blog I call my oldest Birdie) Enjoy
"If we're not buried in snow, we can get to our pediatrician's office by walking through the woods (since they don't let you move into a basement apartment over at the ER, this seemed like the next best housing situation for a person like me), and so we set out. Spring was everywhere — in the mud and the sunshine, in the crocuses and the joyful tree song — and that little Birdy reached up and put her hand into mine. Just that: her warm little fingers in my fingers, her happy little self skipping along beside me. It's as much as I've ever hoped for in this life — that feeling of belonging together, or even (and this is a confession, because I know it's not quite right) that feeling of these kids belonging to me.
It must be what it's like to get an engagement ring from the love of your life: You flex your hand over and over to admire the sparkle. Here it is in the sunshine, here in the moonlight, here I am, wearing it while I pay for milk and eggs, the luckiest woman alive. Engagement. I am truly, deeply engaged."
more of her stuff.