Y'all, I can hardly believe I'm about to start this again. I haven't written consistently for a blog since before I went to Ethiopia, so it's certainly been a long time.
However, during the long stretches of the night, struggling to keep my eyes open long enough to let my sweet, needy little piglet nurse his fill, I inexplicably find myself writing narratives in my head, just like I used to. The words come easily to me during those hours, and I am going to see about snatching them off the invisible and therefore forgettable pages of my mind's notebook, (that particular notebook is so convenient yet so darn impractical, after all,) and putting them down here. For you. Well, mostly for me, (and my mama,) but you are welcome to read along with us!
I can't make any promises about content, but I will venture that it'll be a conglomeration of motherhood stories, recipes you HAVE TO TRY RIGHT THIS MINUTE, and little sketches of the daily, commonplace life I'm finding so dear these days. I guess, in fact, that you could call this blog a love letter from me to the normal. And since I stopped twice just while writing this short paragraph, once to change a diaper, (managing during that simple process to get poop on both my hands and in J's hair, not to mention his onesie and the sheets,) and once to just kiss my giggling baby for ten minutes straight, I think it's a pretty safe bet that the blog posts won't be prolific or aspirational. At all.
And now he's pooped again. Does he not know how much diapers cost?! Why is he looking at me over his paci rim with a smug expression of triumph? And finally, why on earth do I feel the urge to stop and kiss his plump, smug cheeks for another ten minutes straight? Oh right. Because I'm his mama, and he's the sweetest baby in the world.
Normal day, let me be aware
of the treasure that you are.
let me learn from you, love you,
bless you before we depart.
Let me not pass you by in quest
of some rare and perfect tomorrow.
let me hold you while I may,
for it may not be always so. one day
I shall dig my nails into the earth,
or bury my face in the pillow,
or stretch myself taunt,
or raise my hands
to the sky and want, more
than all the world, your return.
-Mary Jean Irion
P.S. (and this is mostly for mama) I do promise not to enhance, color, or otherwise tweak my stories for the sake of dramatic or humorous appeal. Ahem.
However, during the long stretches of the night, struggling to keep my eyes open long enough to let my sweet, needy little piglet nurse his fill, I inexplicably find myself writing narratives in my head, just like I used to. The words come easily to me during those hours, and I am going to see about snatching them off the invisible and therefore forgettable pages of my mind's notebook, (that particular notebook is so convenient yet so darn impractical, after all,) and putting them down here. For you. Well, mostly for me, (and my mama,) but you are welcome to read along with us!
I can't make any promises about content, but I will venture that it'll be a conglomeration of motherhood stories, recipes you HAVE TO TRY RIGHT THIS MINUTE, and little sketches of the daily, commonplace life I'm finding so dear these days. I guess, in fact, that you could call this blog a love letter from me to the normal. And since I stopped twice just while writing this short paragraph, once to change a diaper, (managing during that simple process to get poop on both my hands and in J's hair, not to mention his onesie and the sheets,) and once to just kiss my giggling baby for ten minutes straight, I think it's a pretty safe bet that the blog posts won't be prolific or aspirational. At all.
And now he's pooped again. Does he not know how much diapers cost?! Why is he looking at me over his paci rim with a smug expression of triumph? And finally, why on earth do I feel the urge to stop and kiss his plump, smug cheeks for another ten minutes straight? Oh right. Because I'm his mama, and he's the sweetest baby in the world.
Normal day, let me be aware
of the treasure that you are.
let me learn from you, love you,
bless you before we depart.
Let me not pass you by in quest
of some rare and perfect tomorrow.
let me hold you while I may,
for it may not be always so. one day
I shall dig my nails into the earth,
or bury my face in the pillow,
or stretch myself taunt,
or raise my hands
to the sky and want, more
than all the world, your return.
-Mary Jean Irion
P.S. (and this is mostly for mama) I do promise not to enhance, color, or otherwise tweak my stories for the sake of dramatic or humorous appeal. Ahem.
