Putting Liam to bed tonight was ... one of those moments that I want to remember forever.
We played kisses, where I kiss his "squishy cheeks" and we both laugh. He had his Woody kiss me and then I'd kiss him and he laughed so hard he could barely breathe. We talked about our day and talked about how we were going to make pancakes tomorrow morning. (He couldn't decide then if he wanted blueberry, raspberry, or banana panckaes.) We cuddled and I stroked his hair. Right before falling asleep, he switched positions and lost his covers. I wrapped them back over him and in a sweet, soft voice, he whispered, "Thank you."
Reading my favorite photographers and blogs around the world tonight... I was struck once again by this photographer. Her work is more than astonishing; it reaches deep inside. It does more than inspire me; it make me feel lucky to be alive.
While reading another blog, I found this poem:
Kindness
Before you know what kindness really is you must lose things, feel the future dissolve in a moment like salt in a weakened broth. What you held in your hand, what you counted and carefully saved, all this must go so you know how desolate the landscape can be between the regions of kindness. How you ride and ride thinking the bus will never stop, the passengers eating maize and chicken will stare out the window forever.
Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness, you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho lies dead by the side of the road. You must see how this could be you, how he too was someone who journeyed through the night with plans and the simple breath that kept him alive.
Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside, you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing. You must wake up with sorrow. You must speak to it till your voice catches the thread of all sorrows and you see the size of the cloth.
Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore, only kindness that ties your shoes and sends you out into the day to mail letters and purchase bread, only kindness that raises its head from the crowd of the world to say it is I you have been looking for, and then goes with you every where like a shadow or a friend.
Your dinner tonight includes pesto noodles with garlic shrimp, the side is sauteed carrot "circles." Please note, you will only be able to eat three shrimp, because they will be taken off your plate and eaten before you get a chance. As a special treat tonight, the noodles will be deposited into your hand when the host is done.
Dessert includes squishy toddler thighs and stomach.
Tonight's entertainment features an encore presentation of Racecar in the Night, starring Liam Powers, with a new drum solo in the middle.
I make cds for Liam to go to sleep to. I label them with a number and with the same number of whatever shape I choose so he can learn to identify it. "I want the stars one, Mommy!" It's really fun sharing music with him and I love hearing what he has stuck in his head later on.
I like this call this one "Songs You Need To Know"
Still, two years later, I look at Liam and feel this great, overpowering love. It’s amazing.
You would think that you would get used to it, the way you get used to your heart beating. It is constant, but you forget. Beat. Beat. It is not like that at all. It is a growing thing; it takes on a life all its own.
The way he sees things and describes things to me. The way he continues to narrate his life. The way he considers things, pausing for a moment, before answering.
Love the way he says, “No, tanks” when you suggest something.
Love the way he interacts with other kids… this week he went up to two little girls in the library, and said, “Hey guys, what you doing? Playing train set???” With all the enthusiasm in the world.
Love the way he invites other kids to play… while going to get a bagel with friends, he called to his friend Esme, “Come on, Emmee! Emmee, come on! Go get bagel! Come on, Emmee! Get bagel!" beat beat.
How he is always laughing with people. We ate at a restaurant last night and he made friends with the people around us. He was high fiving them through the little hole in the partition, describing his food and showing it to them, and shoving crispy tofu in his mouth like there was no tomorrow.
He gets really into different things and there doesn’t seem to be any pattern to it. From trains to baby, or the movie Cars to a 1950’s book about a boy named Timmy.
Love how he learned to put penne noodles on his finger and eat it off.
I absolutely love how confident and happy he is. Beat. Beat.
Love how he tried chocolate soymilk for the first time yesterday and took a sip, paused, looked at me with this look of shock and awe, then didn’t open his eyes or breathe or move until it was gone. About one minute later. Then, with chocolate ‘stache on his lip, he moved on.
Love how his hair is different every single day.
Love how he is so much cooler than I will ever be.
I love how he loves me. How when he is tired, he wraps his little legs around me waist and nuzzles into my chest. Or when we are watching a movie, he holds my hand. His tiny fingers are so small against mine.
He loves music. We are always playing it and he mimics me when I am singing songs or dancing.
He is always dancing. Dancing to all music, any music. And the dance is always different; his own interpretation. Sometimes a spin, sometimes a head nod, sometimes a foot tap. Boy’s got rhythm.
Love his growing imagination. Love how he develops storylines for his guys and now has them talk to each other. Sometimes he even makes different voices for them.
How he loves our cat, Buckley. This morning he climbed up on him to ride him. I said, “honey, Buckley’s not a horse, we can’t ride him like that,” And Liam corrected me by saying, “No, Mommy, coooow.” And then pounced him.
A few days ago, he took the table and chairs out of his room and set it all up in the living room so he could feed an apple to his dog Tony.
I look at videos of when he was little and hear the same roaring laughter as his laugh today. A bigger sound, but the same sound from my baby boy. Will it be the same when he’s older? Will I still hear my baby laugh when he is grown?
It’s overpowering. I may get used to it, this love, like my heart beating. But for now, I will drink it all in, love, and dance.
At 5:30 all I hear from the kitchen is this little voice saying, "Soap," giggle, "Soap". It takes me a while to realize it's not a dream about soap, it is my son, eating my fancy co-op soap.
Mmmmm soap for breakfast. (Is that okay? I know it's organic ingredients. I consider this for a minute... thinking it would allow me to stay in bed for another fifteen minutes.)
But he's so achingly cute. I told him that it was too early to get out of his room and play, but he could play in his room until it was time. Before I left, I asked, "Would you like to be under your covers, where it is warm and cozy? Or play?" There he is, leaning against his bed like some toddler James Dean, train on one hand and red monkey in the other.
Sometimes I am so busy, I don't even know where to begin. I feel pulled in eight thousand directions: three papers due, test on friday, read books with Liam, seriously I have to read a 300 page novel in one week, play train set with Liam, outline written, dishes done, make corn bread with Liam, laundry not done, bills to pay, play blocks with Liam, yardwork needs to be done, go on long walk and find leaves with Liam, trash out, buy more stamps, cuddle Liam, go grocery shopping, make menu, have big bubbly bathtime with Liam, edit photos, order pictures, catch up on emails, shit I haven't talked to any of my friends in two weeks, call friends, work on letters with Liam, try to go out or watch one movie a week so I can get a break, that movie ends up being Cars with Liam, oh my gosh my entire website crashed, spend four hours on the phone with host company, laugh and wear hats with Liam, and everything is due RIGHT NOW. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. I get the feeling that a family isn't supposed to have one person attend grad school full time and teach three sections of a film class and have the other person going to school full time with a busy photography business AND have a kid at the same time. It's almost masochistic, when you think about it. You know what we should do? Have twins and get a puppy.
Beautiful plan.
But my life has changed in these crazy days, as well as my days with Liam. When we have a free afternoon, and I mean completely free where we don't have to run to Target or the grocery store, I don't want to go anywhere lately. I love and miss my friends and playgroups, but all I want at that moment and all I think Liam needs is to connect and enjoy the slowness of the moment. Granted, it's super fun to run the Children's Museum, but right now, at the end of the semester when things are heating up and I can't even breathe, eat, or sleep out of the craziness, all I want to do with Liam is curl up with a cup of tea and read together.
It's hard being a parent, a good parent, while focusing on these other responsibilities. Honestly, I feel guilty most of the time. I feel like I have the rest of my life, why can't I go to school later? This is his time to be two and I should take advantage of it. He should know all of his letters and numbers, we should have exhausted all of our Madison kid resources by now... but he doesn't and we don't. All I've wanted to do is be a mother, soak in every minute... you may joke, but the idea of a 1950's housewife sounded pretty good. And not in a subordinate, 'I'm going to look pretty with my pearls and gloss over all the details of the hard day, because when you come home from work you will want a happy wife" kind of thing... but a I stay home and have a lot of babies kind of thing.
But honestly, I had unrealistic expectations of both... when I was a stay at home Mom, I fantasized how I would go to school, work at a coffee shop - so fancy with my little americano and muffin, read my book out on the porch in the autumn sunlight, write my papers without any difficulty, respond and collaborate with students, and become the student that I never was. Also, relatively stress free. Because, in my dream world, I would have all the time to do it. Now, I fantasize how I would be THE BEST stay at home Mom. Oh goodness would I be good! We would go out everyday - the Children's Museum, the Zoo, Playgrounds, Playgroups, or attend one of the many kid activities that are in town. We would sit on the ground for HOURS and do puzzles, make cookies or bread together every day, and we would both be happy all the time.
I love being a mother, love it more than anything I have ever done. But when I was doing that, I needed more. It sounds terrible to say - I need more than you, Liam. But I do. I need to be Liam's Mother AND Mallory. I need to have something more than that to be a stronger and better Mother. I need something more to connect with myself, to make myself stronger, to keep myself busy and focused on a goal, so that I can connect, be stronger, and be focused with Liam.
What I do know is that parenting is hard. The most amazing thing I have ever done, but the hardest thing I have ever done. And now I feel very conflicted.
This isn't new... many parents before me have felt this and many will after me. The balance between keeping yourself as an individual and being a parent is hard. Respecting yourself and respecting your child and finding the time to do anything but respond to all of the needs that each of you has is hard.
I'm not sure if this post is meant for sharing, for me, or for Liam years down the line to explain... I'm not sure. And I am not complaining... this is the path I chose and am choosing to follow every day. Just wanted to extend a little love out there to all the parents. Parenthood is hard. And I hope I'm doing a good job. I hope you're doing a good job. It's impossible to tell with anyone.
Some of you may be thinking, you have a free hour... go and do this work! But, I have to do this for me. I have to stop. Stop what I am doing. Stop the housework and the school work and reflect. I have to write. I miss the posts when Liam was first born and all I could write about what his smell and how his beautiful face looks and my amazing, overpowering love for him. But this is my life now. And it's okay. So, forgive me. My pictures and recollections of Liam are missing this week. I was with my boy. I was experiencing. I was soaking it all in.
I am a mother. I am Mallory. And I am grateful for all of it.
