I'd pass by the barn and I'd forget that I lived in a hated suburb, forget that I worked far, far from New York and all my friends. And later, I walked with both boys to the store, because Truman was fussy and couldn't be comforted sitting still, and Everett was desperate, truly at his wit's end desperate, that we drink milk NOW.
"I feel like you and Jonathan would make really great foster parents," she said. With Truman - most of our interactivity is spent breastfeeding and diaper-changing. But, you know me, I'm still going to try. I've never been so crushed over the fate of a building.
So when I work, I'm spending a lot of my energy trying to get my children to leave me alone so I can work, and then the rest of my energy goes towards feeling guilty.
The barn was so stunningly lovely that I would often stop to photograph it. And I'd rather not illuminate the distinction.
Of high jumping and pole vaulting.
We would walk there, in the afternoons, for late late breakfast and the coffee I so needed. How my impatience and inability to relax and let things happen had contributed to an outcome that wasn't my hope - slow slow slow progression, Pitocin, an epidural, two hours of pushing, a c-section. And a few hours of Thomas-laced sleep and I'm on to the next priority. In fact, when I do, I can't wait to hand him back to his mama. Everett would eat sausage, or pancakes, and it was always worth it.
At the same time I long for those days when he'll smile at me.
And yet I feel an immeasurable guilt that I don't treasure the gift of being mama to a newborn enough. This summer, our car will be paid off, and we'll be close to relieving ourselves from many of the debts that have been nagging us.
I don't do it all, to start with; I could make long lists of the things that aren't done. How can I compare that to the day he discovers how to read, or does his first calculus equation?
It will be our landmark - "turn at the Starbucks by the Kupie Cone sign!