my little chicken
the baby is napping. he's curled on his side, having exhausted himself trying to make that last turn onto his stomach. this weekend he hit another milestone by successfully rolling from belly to back while Frank looked on. i was at work, and while i feel like i should be sad that i missed it, i really wasn't. i was just proud and excited for him, and happy that Frank was there to see it and text me so i could call and croon over the phone about how strong and clever our son is.
i am swimming in deep waters these days. not in a bad way, just beginning to integrate all the ways in which being a parent fundamentally changes you. this week i have been struck by how much joy and fun i have been having as Evan's mother. yes, it's tons of work and sleep deprivation and patience and strategizing and so on. but it's also singing silly made up songs, snuggling a soft little body made up entirely of fresh smelling baby, long walks, Where the Wild Things Are, and the excitement of seeing everything again as if for the very first time. it is being present, finding lightness even when things are stressful, laughing in the face of small disasters, and learning when to give up and just take a nap. being a parent makes you profoundly vulnerable-- the love of your life is small and fragile and prone to suicidal risks simply because they don't know any better. it is terrifying to love something this much, but so incredibly sweet.
i am swimming in deep waters these days. not in a bad way, just beginning to integrate all the ways in which being a parent fundamentally changes you. this week i have been struck by how much joy and fun i have been having as Evan's mother. yes, it's tons of work and sleep deprivation and patience and strategizing and so on. but it's also singing silly made up songs, snuggling a soft little body made up entirely of fresh smelling baby, long walks, Where the Wild Things Are, and the excitement of seeing everything again as if for the very first time. it is being present, finding lightness even when things are stressful, laughing in the face of small disasters, and learning when to give up and just take a nap. being a parent makes you profoundly vulnerable-- the love of your life is small and fragile and prone to suicidal risks simply because they don't know any better. it is terrifying to love something this much, but so incredibly sweet.