I tried something new, taking pictures during the day with Nicholas alongside me. We worked in the kitchen, just the two of us, I on my yogurt cup and Nicholas on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I pulled the curtains back wide and opened the door for more light. He watched the door to make sure the dogs didn’t get out. Of course Buddy got out, the two of us oblivious, and took a stroll around the neighborhood. I wasn’t any the wiser until much later, when I was doing dishes at the sink and saw the neighbor’s college-aged son stop his car by our mail box and step into the street to clap his hands loudly. Buddy trotted up happily, a spring in his step from a two hour rumspringa. He’s a good dog; he always comes back.
I had an overwhelming urge to thank my neighbor’s son with a plate of cookies. I didn’t have any, and I doubted he wanted kale, so I said thank you and left it at that.
I was almost finished taking pictures when I felt the urge to look at Nicholas. He looked green, not at all well. I asked him what was wrong, and not waiting for the answer I reached for him, already knowing. My tummy doesn’t feel good and I was spinning, ready to run, until I realized I would never be fast enough, so I kept spinning until we faced the sink. It was like ballet, a partner dance where he ended perched on my knee, head forward.
A second later, he noted, “I don’t like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches anymore.”
And I said, “No, I don’t imagine you do.”
We made a tacit agreement to ignore whatever happened with his stomach. He asked for a clementine and I said yes and went back to taking pictures. He loves clementines as much as I do. He was fine.
Motherhood is strange for me. At times it’s frenetic, hands on foreheads, google, calls to people who might know more. There is a feeling, especially in the beginning, that I am committing negligence everyday. Then other days it all comes together, when I know exactly when to turn my head and look, when I know a moment at the sink is nothing more than a minute during an ordinary Tuesday. We have entire conversations without saying a word, my gut responding to their hearts.
When Mikey got home from school, we went to the store. On the way there he practiced his choir music by singing along to a CD the priest made for the kids because he believes the kids learn music better studying by ear. We turned right, Mikey’s voice filling the car, and there was something about the way he sang in excelsis deo that made me open my eyes wide so the tears wouldn’t spill over.
“I love this CD,” I said.
“We love it, too,” they responded.
When my youngest nephew was five years old, I was not allowed to play any CD with In Excelsis Deo on it as it made him cry. I mean really cry! I cannot hear it now without thinking of little Caleb with huge tears listening to the music. It made me think he was hearing angels sing.
He is now 21 and 6 ft. 3, and still loves music.
I really loved this post. The second to the last paragraph especially.
I love it. Sigh.
Thanks for sharing that. It was very sweet.
I love your blog. This post made me LOVE your blog. :) so true. And it also reminded me of just the other day, doing that very same ballet, but we pivoted and got the garbage as opposed to the bed. :) Then we played Run Wild and all was well. xo
I loved this post. You made me laugh out loud and tear up in one sitting. I hear you on the motherhood thing. Thank you.
Oh I loved this — your thoughts on mothering so reflect my own! Lovely post. So glad the clementines settled his tummy! I am majorly crushing on your kale salad, can’t wait to try! My husband and I both love kale but we’ve never tried it just as salad. You might like this recipe, I so want to try it: http://www.designsponge.com/2011/02/in-the-kitchen-with-gena-knoxs-kale-and-apple-salad.html
:) ~Melissa
Your posts on mothering always fill me with this hope that I can mother, too. These stories remind me what a challenge and an honor it is.
All in a days work – but what blessed work it is. So happy your little guy wasn’t seriously ill. Thanks for sharing :)
“Motherhood is strange for me. At times it�s frenetic, hands on foreheads, google, calls to people who might know more. There is a feeling, especially in the beginning, that I am committing negligence everyday. Then other days it all comes together, when I know exactly when to turn my head and look, when I know a moment at the sink is nothing more than a minute during an ordinary Tuesday. We have entire conversations without saying a word, my gut responding to their hearts.”
wow- that sums it up.
I love your writing.
…and your kitchen looks good.
Beautiful post Jules. And look at you rocking the camera on a tripod! Will I get to see the shots? I have parenting moments like this too, when it just feels good and other times when it doesn’t. You articulated it perfectly.
“a spring in his step from a two hour rumspringa.” Oh, girl, you are awesome.