Well,
17 days have already come and gone.
The flowers are blooming, life is moving along at it’s usual pace and yet here i am. Inching in a slow gelatinous mess of this world with a small sleepy cloth diapered boob fed baby whose smell i drink in and cries i am thankful for because he is healthy enough to let me know he’s pissed. I can dance with him in the kitchen cuddled on my chest close to my heart singing absolutely terrible songs which somehow puts him to sleep. I am his person, his Mommah, his sole caretaker, diaper changer, source of food, who scoops him up into my arms for hugs and songs. I am his and he is mine.
We are a team.
Wyatt and I are still getting to know each other.
He is a champion burper
and could win medals for his farts
That little priceless face staring up at mine, memorizing his eyes and drinking in his sweet furrowed brow. I’m sure he is still trying to figure out who the fuck I am and how the hell he ended up here of all places. However it must be a modicum better than the cramped confines of da womb.
See the ant?
I am that ant in the photo, that tiny speck on a big epic flower totally engulfing me.
28/06/2010 at 5:44 am Permalink
You make me feel the need to find a baby to snuggle and sing badly to.
Those are some of the best parts.