Overheard

Eloïse, (while pointing at TV): Mama!
Aurelia: That’s not Mama, that’s a pteranadon.

On The Road

Yes, I am back! It has been nearly a year since I posted on this blog. I can't believe it. Way too long. Anyway, so much has happened in this last year, particularly for me, creatively. I am not quite ready to talk about it all here. To be honest, I feel quite vulnerable about the whole thing. However, more than anything, I am excited. I am on the verge of something big, and it feels awesome.

Trying Something Different

So, this week, I decided to try something different. Ben ended his paternity week, and headed back to work on Monday. Since then, I have been trying to get up early (meaning, earlier than the girls), in order to have a bit of time for myself before I start the day. I love the quiet that has settled into the house, looking out the window, even when it's raining. These past few days, I have had an overwhelming feeling of being really lucky that I don't have to run around like I know so many people are doing right now, rushing to start their day, getting themselves and their kids ready, distributing everyone around town, shovelling breakfast in their mouths with one hand on the steering wheel.

Over this past week, I have used this time to eat my breakfast, watch the news, check out Facebook, emails, and my favorite blogs, and, most importantly, sip my hot coffee. I cannot believe what this little bit of me time to start the day has done to improve my mood and my productivity throughout my day.

Anyone who knows me is aware that I am not a morning person. Actually, it's not really that I am not a morning person, but more the fact that I can't get out of bed, because, once I'm up, I'm up. So this new routine is not necessarily an easy switch for me. I need to push myself, but I am realizing that this switch in my routine has made me happier, and infinitely more productive.

Yesterday, I wrote about how I was debating keeping this blog public. I've decided for now, I will leave it as-is and instead try to incorporate writing my entries into my new morning routine. We'll see how it goes.

Questioning the whole public blog thing

I started this blog as a way to document my everyday life. While I suppose I could also use a word processing program as I often do, what's interesting about a blog, is that I am able to access it anywhere internet is available, which I love.

One of my New Years' resolutions for 2010 is to blog more. Unfortunately, what I am noticing is that I am not drawn to my blog when I want to put down my thoughts. I feel so aware that there is an audience reading this, I find myself editing my thoughts before my fingers reach the keyboard. What is so odd about all this, of course, is that no one actually reads this blog except me. But still, it feels like leaving a personal journal open on a table in a coffee shop.

Up until recently, my blog was private. Maybe I will have to go back to that, if it means I will be less self-conscious when I write here. I don't want this blog to end up like all those diaries I received as a kid with only a couple of pages used.

I want to remember this.

I want to remember this:
You, after a bath, still slick with water,
Dripping tendrils of baby curls sticking to your neck,
Bolting down the hallway,
Naked and confident,
Shoulder blades protruding like wings-
Bird bones just under the surface.
Screaming with glee.
Febrile and defiant.

I want to remember this:
You, sleeping soundly in our bed,
As only you can
When you are in your parents’ bed
At age two.
Sunken deep into a pillow, assured and secure,
Your breath paced slow and steady,
Your lower lip jutting and relaxed.
Your lashes grazing that tender patch of bluish skin
Just below the eye.
Damp curls lay flat against your pulsing temple.
Your tiny hand, open-palmed and fleshy,
Managing to reach out to me,
Still asleep.

I want to remember this:
You, coming to join me in the morning,
Messy, gorgeous, matted hair
Hiding still-sleepy eyes,
Cheeks rosy and creased from slumber,
Diaper fat and sagging,
Your little voice, cracking,
proclaiming something,
Anything,
As though it were a new-found discovery:
“Look, Mama! A book!”

I want to remember this:
You, delighting in those things otherwise overlooked.
A bubble escaping from the dish soap bottle.
The ant jarred awake by the year’s first thaw.
The way the cat washes its ears.

I want to remember this:
You, looking at me with complete and total trust.
Believing that I know.
Seeing me as I have forgotten how to see myself.

I want to remember this.