One Month Later

We have completed one month of parenthood, just one fascinating month. 

Weaving 150 words...

The train stopped at a small village, and snaked around a hill. We spotted two young Mexican Indian boys playing catch with a boulder the size of a bowling ball outside our window.  They were dressed completely in white and their game of catch intrigued us. Watching them from the train, we found ourselves laughing with them as they tricked each other. Suddenly the younger boy, fell to the ground. Blood now poured from his head and pooled around him coloring his clothes. He had been struck by the boulder. My little brother screamed and a chorus of horrified  shrieks was heard from  the other compartments. At that moment the train slowly pulled away  from the scene. I cried for the boy lying on the ground, now alone and growing distant. The older boy had left him. That night I had nightmares. A few days later I was home.

Where are you going lonely, lil bug?

The other day I watched a small bug crawl across the ground. I wondered where it was going and why there were no other bugs with it. Was this bug capable of being lonely? Aside from love bugs, I rarely see insects hanging out in pairs, they always seem to be swarming or completely alone.  What does a bug do all day all by his lonesome?  As he continued on his way and out of sight I wondered if it even knew where it was going. Was it lost? I really should stop anthropomorphizing  everything in sight. 

Once upon a time...

Growing on an old stump, where there once was a rather large tree, stood a teenie, tiny, little tree. He was so perfectly shaped and stood straight and proud in the sunlight.

To the many infinitesimal, crawling beasties, he was not a tiny tree at all, but, in fact, a full sized tree that stood strong and alone where no other tree could grow.  This made the tiny tree very important.

Only the birds and the butterflies knew that the tree was so small that he could hardly be seen.  Even so, they kept far away from the tiny tree, respectful of his place in the world.

One day, a butterfly noticed the grass began to creep over the old stump. It quickly whispered to it that if the tiny tree should ask to please pardon itself and say, "Excuse me, but I am the largest vine in the world and must stretch out for I am running out of room,  I hope you do not mind me." The tiny tree didn't mind the largest vine in the world passing through at all.

May, Supermoon, Babymoon

I really love this tiny, colorful blanket made just for Anna Maria by my special friend, far away.  The colors make me happy and I am thrilled to be able to use it.  Today it reminded me of flowers, May Day and Cinco de Mayo.

We've been babymooning for over a week now.  It has been all and all blissful with each day being Valentine's Day, my birthday and Mother's Day combined. I have been eating yummy, nutritious meals lovingly prepared for me by my husband. Food made the baby and continues through the breastfeeding stage.  When I see her perfect lil face I think of all the organic apples, pears, cherries, berries, broccoli, kale, juiced carrot and beet juice, yogurt, goat milk and eggs I consumed for nine months.  All those trips to grocery stores, in several states, searching for gluten free foods and fresh produce. Our Champion juicer has been by far the best purchase ever, next to our Toms.

We are happily captivated with our little girl's every move. I wish we could forever be on maternity leave but soon, we will be back on the road. Still hard to believe that we will embark on adventures as a family of three from now on.

What of the supermoon? The giant, fiery globe in the sky tonight harked back to a rather large moon last March.  There was something urgent about that moon, I made it my own and sat for hours outside waiting for it. Once it appeared, I sat under it and did some serious thinking.  I look back at that moon as being the one that ushered in the change that has resulted in Anna Maria. This big, bright moon tonight belongs to Anna Maria, I give it to her.

April 25, 2012

Suddenly, April 25th became a very important day.
At least it is for these three people.

Scenes from a Birthday

It was a beautiful April morning complete with songbirds, butterflies and hummingbirds zooming about. There was a bit of a cool front that could be felt in the breeze, making sitting under the sun even more enjoyable.  I could have anything I wanted for breakfast so I picked macaroni and cheese, of course. It was the most satisfying bowl I have had in a very longtime.

After phone calls and cards, a short walk by my favorite house with all the roses. There was a quick turtle rescue, the lil guy was removed from the middle of the road. We released him in the lake where he very quickly and happily scampered into the water and swam off.

Later that evening I was lovingly gifted a most delicious dinner of crab cakes, stuffed portobello mushrooms, asparagus (I love asparagus) and grilled eggplant topped with pine nuts and balsamic vinegar. My mouth is still watering. This dish needs to become a tradition.

An evening can end quickly after a filling meal like that. I drifted off to dreamland soon after we watched a  French horror film and I did some real nesting. Swept and mopped the whole house. There is a very important person coming at any moment. 

The two before three.

My husband has great taste in music and it's always a treat to hear him pick out some records.  He can arrange them to play in such a way that they create a moment or transport to another era, sometimes catapulting you to new and uncharted settings. He does it with such ease. What some people can do visually with collages, he does with our records.

The other night, on what we thought was surely the eve of our baby's birth, I made homemade corn tortillas and he whipped up some pico de gallo. Hungry, we seemed to take our time making the meal a bit special. The music played on in the background. Dinner did turn out delicious.

Later, we cleaned the house. What I will remember, decades from now, is preparing dinner side by side, taking breaks to time contractions, returning to the kitchen to cook, then sweeping, mopping and scrubbing to several different records: Blossom Dearie, Buddy Morrow, Ken Nordine, old mariachi music, just to name a few. It was a special evening for me. It did not end with a trip to the midwife but with us as a twosome. These evenings of just us are numbered and I have been savoring them rather than rushing past them in frenzied anticipation.

Tonight, once again I celebrated us by making more homemade corn tortillas and picadillo.  We watched some beach movies and the baby move.  I keep remembering what Roxy said...we met her at a restaurant in Baltimore when I was thirteen weeks along. Roxy said, "Change is coming, three chairs, three plates, three of everything come next year." It was so abstract just a few months ago.