I wrote this haiku today while nursing Hayden.
His tiny palms are
the perfect size for catching
my tender kisses.
There was a debate over whether it should be ‘my tender kisses’ or ‘Mom’s tender kisses.’ I like the personal touch of ‘my,’ but I wouldn’t want it to be construed the wrong way.
They are, by the way. His pudgy little palms are just the size of my pursed lips. I kiss his hands when he reaches up for my face.
I hope I don’t get him sick!
I’m sick. Blech.*
*Translation: I never realized how much energy being a mom really takes. Current energy stores=0. Should you exercise when you’re sick? I’m going to bet on no. Especially since if I did exercise, I might die. Or at least not have enough energy to carry Hayden around a grocery store for an hour. Oh wait, I just did that. Yo quiero . . . ¡dormirme! Fin.
I was asleep. Then I got up and took a shower. It was the second week of classes at BYU, my freshman year.
I came back to my room and my roommate informed me that “the Pakistanis are bombing us.” I didn’t believe her. I suggested that maybe it was Palestinians.
We didn’t have a TV in our room yet, or at least we hadn’t hooked it up yet. My computer was still in the mail. We logged on to MSNBC on my roommate’s computer and kept hitting the reload button. The second plane hit.
There were long delays. We switched on NPR just as the first tower fell.
We went to devotional at 11. We didn’t know what to think. Or feel.
The world is a different place now. I look at my beautiful, innocent son and realize that he’ll never understand how that day changed our world. He won’t understand what that meant to me, just as we will never understand what V-E day or V-J day meant. Or how November 22, 1963 defined a generation.
In a large way, I still don’t know what to think or feel. I didn’t know anyone there, or even close. The pain that New Yorkers still feel is almost as distant to me as those days forty and sixty years ago.
Poignant (and apolitical) accounts from a few people far more affected than I:
No politics here either. Never forget—but always move forward.
This week (and last week, actually), we got packages from my friend/sister Erin. Hayden has new toys! Does he like them? Let’s see:
Playing with Baby Einstein blocks (I love these things! I got some for my niece last year and wanted to get some for Hayden, but hadn’t gotten around to it yet.)
Delicious.
He hasn’t warmed up to Baby Croki yet:
Hayden (and I) are very excited about his new toys. He’s going to need a bigger toy box!
Thank you, Auntie Erin!
I love web analytics. But I found something slightly disturbing as I sifted through my MamaBlogga analytics data. Among the keywords used on Google that led to this site was “nakey.”
Nakey?