Monday, November 30, 2009

good mornings slow to wake

Sorry for the overexposure of pictorial detail, I'm learning how to add them in and find I can't resist sharing so much of you, in all your glory of twiddling through the mundane day you seem sparkle and shine and incite cooing on my part. I never knew it would happen so easily, the habits of mothering.

We wiggle our way through books. We change the dirty diapers and you learn new signs and words, your brain is curious and in a constant growth spurt or acquiring new knowledge and scratching at new ideas. Your hair always sticks up in the morning, you resemble a baby Einstein. You'll help brush the front but you'll scream as I comb through the back rat tails. We work through them and layer on clothes for a morning walk.

From morning walks
When you smile big for the camera we can peek in to see your four proud teeth. There's another one poking through on the top side, nothing but a slit in your gums, someday you'll have a brilliant smile that will explode spontaneously at the smallest of things. Such is the amazement of seeing things through a child's eyes.

We walk the few blocks to the coffee shop where they roast the beans and drop the four quarters to fill our mug. We pet the beautiful puppy dogs and you yelp at them in excitement, doing signs, saying words, making noise. The dogs circle and sniff at you, wag their tails in approval.

On your chariot of the day, a stroller, we pile feathers, leaves, flowers, fabric scraps, mirrors, and whistles... magic for you to play with from here to there. But you uncover magic in the colors and sounds and feelings all around you.
From morning walks

From morning walks

Once at home we decide to adopt the abandoned bicycle that's been sitting on the corner of the yard and fix it up. Where it once lacked a seat there's now a plush pillow. You mastered straddling it so quickly, the whole of your family is excited for the day you can come along on bike rides by the ambition of your own two pedaling feet, not cozied behind in your mama's trailer.

From videos


Than we move into the backyard where you help dig holes to plant the broccoli sproutlings. You love making a mess of it and waiting for the excitement of watering.

From videos


And now the mornings meditations of this and that and the beautiful slow process of waking up unwinds into a long list of things to be gotten done. The boring details on the side of taking care of you: rent, childcare applications, errand running, grocery shopping, food making, gift making, school projects, phone calling, worker hasseling things.

Mama's school is close to over for the semester and winter holidays are fast encroaching. Eight days your father will be home, maybe you'll learn to say "daddy," as you've taken to calling all your caretakers "mama," with the exception of your your Nona, you learned her name quickly as you always look forward to her visits.

And what do you think of all these fusses we make over you and all the speculations and enchantments? You could care less, its time for a snack.

From morning walks

1 comment:

  1. This is really very beautiful. Thank you, I know I get lost in my routines I forget that other things go on. Memories turn into just that: memories. I forget how it is I spend days, I forget to recount them--they become lost in this blur of time passed.

    Maybe I'll get to showing you two what it is like out here. I'll bring a camera throughout my day. Isolated but absorbed in two different worlds.

    Con cariƱo.

    Papa

    ReplyDelete