I had designs to write a type of New Year post…something short…trite…everything this time of year might expect in a blog. But, Warrior Queen became sick, and it’s a pretty nasty one too. It’s only a matter of time before that shit spreads, and I can’t wait! Little Man returned to school this week…finally. It was only a week-and-a-half, but it felt like a month. I’d been itching to return to normalcy, but I had an additional week to go before that happened. I’m in the home stretch, and I can’t wait!
I don’t create resolutions; I never felt compelled. That said, there are things I want to remember specifically with this transition.
Warrior Queen has a bedtime routine with me these days. I push her to the precipice of a sleep hunker down before she issues her edict that only she can manage, “Rock!” She sits on my lap facing outward as I rock on the chair I’ve owned since college. She garbles her displeasure, “I falling!” and pushes my face away with her small hands when I cuddle the incorrect way. But I hold her, listening to her light breathing. I can’t see her face, so I periodically ask her how she is. In incremental quiet utterances, “Good.” It’s a funny declaration; a heavy, strong guttural assertion. I ask her how she is all the time, so that I can giggle on the regular before her speech is more developed, and significantly less endearing in this respect. The now twenty-month-old Warrior Queen doesn’t like me to count down at the end of a routine as her brother requires. It strikes me as funny because some of her favorite books involve numbers. And, whenever in doubt what a new favorite story will be, my money is always on anything with some kind of counting. But, just before her sleep we rock together for a stretching time because I have a deep need to snuggle her in the uninterrupted quiet. The other night I hummed some concoction I created on the spot. I repeat rhythms when I express these musical inclinations. Warrior Queen recognized the patterns quickly, and attempted to hum along with me with surprising accuracy, but maybe she’s just growing older. She almost fell asleep on me that night. Her hands jutting up to cradle her head the way they used to when she was a baby…I miss that.
(It’s even more adorbs when it’s an infant.)
Gradually her head became heavier on my arms, but she continued to answer my inquires with a whisper. That wasn’t how I spent my New Year’s Eve, but I think I’ll celebrate that moment as the conclusion to a trying year I hope will improve as I roll through another calendar designation.
And, how can I forget Little Man? I wish every comment he’s made over the last several months could be preserved. We managed a hair-cut for him, and he’s always so very chatty…about really random wonderful things. The stylist asked how his Christmas was, “We don’t celebrate Christmas. We celebrate Hanukkah, and it’s over now.” As I had my own locks experience an overdue trim, I found myself shaking in buried laughs with his narration.
I took him to the grocery by himself on New Year’s day. Most of it was a rare truly annoying away from home experience, but I’ll focus on the highlight of the trip. I drink a good amount of water…and tea throughout the day. Restroom trips are a running gag between me and my husband, and the chuckles increase exponentially when I’m pregnant. The perfect segue with Little Man left me devastated to find they were cleaning the bathroom. Like most parents understand, having children is to hold oneself in a constant state of needing to use the facilities, but I still don’t like it. My son is witness to the degree to which my back teeth will float more than I should probably admit. Eventually, I manged relief and we resumed my hurried and imperfect efforts to check items off my list amidst a three-and-a-half-year-old losing his luster.
Searching a shelf I caught my dearest first born describing to the two teens stocking shelves the degree to which Mommy needed to pee, and how I went about to remedy the situation. I found the items I needed, commented that they must feel pleased that their lives can resume with such pertinent information for their existence, and jetted off before Little Man destroyed the store. In that moment he was keeping it together, but part of parenting is developing a sixth sense of when shit is about to go down…My accuracy is unparalleled and this outing reinforced my impressive average. But, those other stories are not how I wish to remember the turning of another guard.
Maybe that’s what I’ll carry with me into this new span, pointedly remembering the pieces I want to cherish, and extinguishing the pieces that shouldn’t take up any more real estate in my gray matter than absolutely necessary. After all, there are already some pretty fantastic things to look forward to. And, if I’m exceptionally lucky, the fruition of some of my greatest hopes will come to pass, and I can’t wait!