Yardwork and Other Miscellany

The leaves in my yard look like a carpet, so thick on the ground that the grass has disappeared. My deck and driveway are the same, all traces of wood and concrete disappearing under a crunchy layer of gold and orange. It's beautiful, and I recall when, as a child, I would run and leap into giant piles of leaves that my grandfather had raked in the yard. I started to make a pile for Alex, but then I realized I would be putting a lot of effort into a waste of time. I have the only little boy in the world who can't stand to be dirty, so what do you think the chances are that he would voluntarily hurl himself into a pile of leaves?

I finished my English paper early. That means no more thinking about that class until Tuesday! Yay for me... except I still have to write papers for Psychology & Public Speaking, so boo, hiss to being a grown-up. Also, does anyone else see the unfairness in having to write papers for a speech class? It's a class about talking. Woe is me.

I actually manged to frame and hang two - that's right two! - of the multiple photographs I have printed. I felt a ridiculous level of pride at this accomplishment until I started counting what was left and came to the depressing realization that I need to make about double what I make now if I want to afford frames for all the photos, prints and lithographs I have waiting for my attention. Seriously, I have a painting that I bought at a show before Alex was born, actually before I was even pregnant (so at least 6 years ago) that has been waiting for a frame all this time. I get it out of the closet and measure it every so often, so progress?

We leave for Disney in 26 days. I think these will be the longest 26 days of my life. It feels like forever since we've had a proper vacation and I can fell my exhaustion level creeping higher and higher with each passing day. I full intend to sleep for most of the drive to Florida (don't tell Jym) just so I can catch up on my missing sleep. Is it too early to start packing? Because, seriously, I'm ready to go.

I can feel my eyelids drooping, so I'm off to bed.

Actually, that's a lie. I'm off to lie in bed and read Twitter and Cracked on my iPhone until I jolt myself awake by dropping the phone on my face. Then I'll really go to sleep... promise.

For Alex - My Almost Big Boy

I love...

how you think cuddling and snuggling are different. To quote you: "Cuddling is touching and snuggling is no touching!"

the way you love music; you sing all the time, and it makes me smile whenever I hear your little off-key voice.

how proficient you've become with the computer. You use it better than some of the people I work with, and I'm so proud that you're diving full force into the technocentric world we live in.

how happy you were when you discovered that our new king sized bed is plenty big enough for the three of us to cuddle without Daddy grumbling that he doesn't have any room.

that you want to hold my hand, even when we're just walking around the house. I know our hand holding days are numbered.

your ninja moves. You flip and kick and air-punch your way across the living room several times a day, always with a cry of "Watch my moves, mama!"

your enthusiasm for make believe. We were playing restaurant the other day, and you were so involved that you tried to eat the sandwich you made. You quickly discovered that felt food is not as good as the real thing.

the look of concentration on your face when you're really focused on something. I wonder what's really going on in that mind of yours.

the way you sneak into my room in the morning, unplugging your iPhone with as much stealth as possible, hoping to get a few uninterrupted moments with your favorite apps. I usually wake up because you walk like a herd of elephants, but I let you think your sneaking works, because you're always so pleased with yourself.

how you still think mommy kisses make everything better. I don't know how much longer this particular magic will keep working, but as long as it does, I'm happy to kiss your boo-boos - even the ones on your stinky toes!

how big you are now, but how you're still so small at the same time. I want to freeze this age, almost five, and keep you like this forever... almost a big boy, but still young enough to need your mama.

I love you, Alex.

Thanks to Allie, over at Having a Fields Days, for the idea for this post. Her list for Sarah Hazel is so sweet.

Sideways

It's windy here today, the dry leaves swirling and dancing on the asphalt as I back my car out of the parking lot to head home. The temperature is cool, the kind of day that brings excitement in late March or early April, a harbinger of brighter, warmer days ahead.

This is not late March or early April, however. This is mid-October. A dreary, overcast day that hints of the cold to come, the dark days of winter stretching out before us. I can feel the darkness closing in on me, the long months to come looming ahead.

My thoughts slide sideways this time of year, dreaming of a different life, one filled with year-round sun and walks on the beach, the ocean breaking on the shore beside me. I long to pack my car, stopping only long enough to load my husband and son, and make an escape. Instead I head to the grocery store, the library, the bank - mundane chores filling my days until the spring brings a return to lightness.

I can feel myself sinking deeper with every overcast day, the sadness rising inside me with the shortening of the days. I'll keep to my house as much as possible, sleeping long hours and avoiding people. I want to be different, but every year it's the same - cold temperatures, long hours of darkness and depression seeping into my bones. I can see it coming again this year with an awareness that I've never had before, but I don't know how to stop it, how to hold it at bay until the sun returns next spring.

So, I'll make my way through the winter as best I can, taking refuge in my sideways thoughts - warm breezes, hot sand under my feet and the waves crashing. And I'll wait for the sun to come back to my landlocked, small town home. I know it has to.

Moments in Time

He toddles down the hall toward me, grinning, arms out wide. I walk to him until, with a not quite audible thud, he collides with my legs, wrapping his arms around my knees and burying his face for a hug. I scoop him up and toss him above me, reveling in the sound of his giggles.

*****

He sits quietly on the floor, engrossed in his toy truck. Turning it over and over in his small hands, examining each detail before cramming it into his mouth. He gives it a good gnawing and looks up at me as if to ask if I'd like a taste.

*****

"Tah, tah!" He points and I follow the line of that chubby finger to see a ball cap lying in the floor, dropped last night as we were getting ready for bed. I lower him to the ground and he rushes over, triumphantly grasping his find and trying to put it on. He struggles, but still grins. Moments later I am the proud wearer of one NY Yankees tah (hat) and he grins before snatching it off my head and clutching it to his chest with joy.

*****

We sit in the floor, me stacking blocks and him pushing them over. With each crash the laughter peals out, giddy with glee and excitement, and the "Boom!" he receives from me at the latest demolition pushes him over the edge. He falls backward, rolling from side to side as he shrieks his delight.

*****

He crawls away from me, giggling. I chase after, "I'm gonna get you, I'm gonna get you!" Into his room, onto the soft blue chenille rug that he loves to lie on. He drops to his hands and knees, crawling now as I give chase. Into the corner he goes, breathless with anticipation. "Gotcha!" And he flings himself down onto his back, giggles and grins washing over me as I claim my victory with a tickle.

*****

He sits in his high chair, spaghetti sauce in his hair. The tray is coated with smears of sauce and squished noodles. He reaches for my plate and I put a few more noodles in front of him. He picks one up in his right hand, poking at the dangling end with his left. Then, leaning over and keeping an eye on me, he drops the noodle over the side and onto the carpet, thus signaling an end to dinner.

*****

He cries out in the middle of the night, a bad dream or a lost binky disturbing his rest. I go to him and he cuddles into the curve of my arms, wrapping himself around me and drifting back to sleep without effort. I breathe in the smell of him and sit, absorbing the small shape of his body pressed to mine. He sighs and I lean in closer to kiss his cheek, listening to the soft sound of his breath and the faint squishy noise of a well loved pacifier. Reluctantly I stand, walking to his crib. I lay him down and he rolls onto his belly, sound asleep. Covering him with his blanket I gently stroke his hair and whisper my love.