Tag Archives: mothering

Thoughts

My kid ate carrot-ginger soup, raw smoked goat cheese, grain-free bread, and apple for dinner. I hope he knows how lucky he is.

The soup was made with our carrots and homemade bone broth. The cheese is local, the bread is homemade, and the apple was organic.

I wish every baby could eat such nourishing food. We are so blessed. Sometimes I feel guilty of the bounty we enjoy when so many people go hungry or eat crap food because it’s all they have access to.

Everybody used to eat this way, not so long ago. What a mess things are now.

Staying Up

In the evening, after Edward has gone to work and we’ve finished eating dinner, I kill time until Blaise goes to bed. Sometimes we play, or clean up, or mill around outside, but I’m always counting down the minutes until he’s asleep. I feel bad saying it, but by the end of the day I am ready for him to be down for the count until morning (let’s pretend he doesn’t wake 3x a night). In those few hours before bed I waver back and forth between deciding to stay up after B sleeps or to zonk out myself. Usually the temptation to stay up in some form is irresistible and I find myself scrolling Facebook on my phone, cautiously reading a book in the dim light, washing dishes, or doing stuff on the computer.

This first year of being a mom has been horrible and wonderful. The toughest part has been having almost zero time to myself! I never realized how much I cherished doing whatever I wanted until I had to care for a tiny drunk fat man 24/7. So usually at night I am putting some pennies into the “me time” piggy bank… only to have the pig smashed in the morning when I’m exhausted as all hell because I stayed up too late. It seems like I will never learn.

A Breastfeeding Poem

A quiet moment on a quiet day

Chubby toddler in my lap

Nestling squirming pinching fidgeting fondling

My soft nipple in his mouth

He feels my breast, my neck, my ear, my teeth and again

Warm breath beating heart tickling hair suckling tongue

Swallowing sweet “milkies”

Affirming me with each moment at the breast: I love you

I love you, little one

A pinching finger invades my shirt

He wants the other one now.