Posts Tagged ‘baby’

Sunshine

June 14, 2018

And tan lines.

Yeah.

I have some of those.

It was a rare San Francisco day of sunshine with no fog and a perfect mid-seventies temperature.

I actually wore a sundress and sandals.

I did not wear layers.

I even left the house with only a light jean jacket, though, I will admit, I was a touch nervous about that, I usually go out and about with a sweatshirt and the jean jacket and tights under most of my dresses.

“Where are your clothes?!” My little lady charge asked me today.

She meant, where are my tights, I don’t think that she has ever seen my bare legs.

Not many folks have!

It’s not often bare legged weather here in the city.

Which is why I’m so excited for New York.

Where I will work on my tan line for sure.

I jest about the tan line.

I have no need to lie about in a swimsuit, I just find amusement from the obvious demarcation of white skin next to brown on my cleavage.

I got a touch more sun today than I thought I would and even though I wore sunblock I definitely picked up a lot of color.

It’s nice though.

So nice.

To be outside for work.

I’m not always, but I got to take the baby to music class today and then to the Upper Noe Valley Rec Center for a while.

The park was packed.

Everyone was out.

The weather, like I said, was spectacular.

It made me feel buoyant and uplifted and happy.

Sunshine makes me very happy.

Especially on my face, on my body.

I like being warm.

Not super hot, but warm and toasty.

I got plenty of that today.

I also mostly just had the baby which was nice too.

We spent time in the back yard as well, hence the additional sunshine that probably tipped me over into the obvious tan line arena.

I love that they family has a nice back yard.

It’s not overly styled or groomed, but it is sweet and has trees and grass and it’s well maintained.

I appreciate being able to be outside and just sprawl on the lawn.

Sprawling on the lawn is something I think of from living in the Midwest.

I don’t often miss Wisconsin, but when I do, it tends to be summertime.

The warm, soft air at night, the lakes around Madison, the farmer’s market around the capitol building, hanging out on the terrace at the UW.

Or taking the ferry-boat in Merrimac to Devil’s Lake to go swimming.

Floating on an inflated rubber tube and staring up into the endlessly impossible blue, blue, bluest eye sky.

I wouldn’t mind a week of that.

But no more.

Maybe not even that much.

Maybe four days of Wisconsin, like a long weekend.

My best friend from back home left me a message yesterday about how we need to get together sometime this upcoming year, but family, etc. gets in the way.

I know the feeling, although for me it’s school and therapy clients.

I don’t know when the next time I will get to the Midwest and that’s ok, I do love it here in San Francisco and it’s really where I belong.

I was quite happy driving into work this morning and grateful to allow myself the perspective of how lucky I am that I am still here.

And how much certain times of year and qualities of light remind me of my childhood.

I believe I sought solace in the landscape and in the sky and there is something about the blue sky next to the ocean that seems so interwoven into my being.

I feel comforted by that sky and I was today.

And warmed.

And toasted.

I felt happy for no particular reason.

That was nice too.

Just feeling present and alive and happy.

Not worried about what will happen next.

Just doing the next thing in front of me.

There’s quite a lot of relief in that.

And!

Oh!

I got a message today from my school.

My diploma is in!

I can go pick it up from the registrar’s office.

Tomorrow!

My boss told me I didn’t actually need to be in until 11 a.m. so I will take advantage of that extra time and go downtown and pick up my diploma.

I am very excited.

I recently took a print to get framed at Cheap Pete’s and I was ogling the certificate frames and there was one I really liked and I was fantasizing about framing my Master’s Degree diploma in it.

I had no idea I would get it so fast.

It was lead to believe that it wouldn’t be available until July.

Then again.

I made every possible effort to get my graduation materials in early and on time.

I roll like that.

I figure when I get the call to pick up the print I’m having framed I will bring my diploma in with me and get the pretty certificate frame there.

I don’t know that I’ll hang it on the wall here.

I don’t know how long I’m going to be here.

But I will hang it.

And having it framed, for me, honors the work that I did to get it.

It’s a big damn deal.

It deserves a special frame.

I can’t wait to get it.

So yeah.

Today was full of sunshine.

It was just what I needed.

Seriously.

 

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Teething

March 22, 2018

And screaming.

Ten hours.

Ten hours of baby who is teething two big molars.

Poor little guy.

Poor nanny.

The morning wasn’t so bad, I think I wasn’t as worn out from the constant yelling the baby was doing, plus he had a good morning nap.

The second nap was not so good, he was woken up early by the older kids and was pretty miserable for the last part of the day.

I went in early today to help out and stayed until my normal time.

I did ten hours and I can feel it in my body.

My head hurt when I was leaving.

It is really hard to listen to a baby scream.

It’s hard enough to listen to a baby cry, but scream.

My God.

I thought I was going to lose it for a little while.

He’s a really happy baby too, it’s not normal for him to be so upset.

I felt pretty pinned down by it and I was really happy to leave.

Then I got asked, as I was leaving to come in early again tomorrow and on Friday.

I sort of crumpled.

I really wanted to get a little bit more sleep tonight and to take a shower in the morning before work.

We compromised and I’m just coming in a half hour early tomorrow, I’ll still get my shower, although not the sleep I was hoping for.

Still.

I will have a half hour more than I did last night and that is something.

The day was actually lovely, despite the upset baby, I had a fabulous conversation with my best friend and we made some plans to spend time together and that always lifts my spirits.

Always.

And.

I ran into some friends tonight at my commitment and I discussed the soon to be graduating and the fact that I want to have a beach bonfire party to celebrate.

I’m very excited for that too.

I’m slowly chipping away at homework, every little bit is a tiny step closer to being done with the program, I even managed to finish an article tonight in between getting home from work and heading back out.

I will be doing some work this weekend on a portion of the big paper and writing up a case study on one of my clients which I will present to the class for about a half hour.

I can easily talk about my client for that long, it’s just a matter of making sure that I am presenting good, cohesive, well thought out material to my cohort and to my professor.

When I’ve had some time to reflect on the work I have done with this client I am really quite proud of myself.

I know that I’m doing good work and I know that my client is benefitting from the therapy.

This client was also my first assigned client, though they do not know that, and it pleases me very much that I will get to show a case study with a lot of sessions and a lot of work that has been done.

I’ve got a ton of supervision notes on this client and also a good size file at my office.

I’ll be seeing the client tomorrow, in fact, I should review the file.

I’m also starting with a new client tomorrow.

Note to self, get the file out of the main office before the session!

It’s always a little bit of a crap shoot when I have a new client file that I need to get to.

Often times the office where the files are kept is being used for a therapy session, I have to time it well.

Fingers crossed I’ll get out of work a little early.

Technically I don’t need the file to do the therapy, the first few sessions are really about getting to know the client, I don’t need to see a consultation form to do that, but they are nice to have and I will be taking notes and those notes need to go into a file, so yes, it will be better if I get said file before the session.

Note to self.

I also need to figure out how to sync up my phone calendar with my google calendar.

I know there’s a way to do it.

But I haven’t done it yet and My brain hurts too much right now to look into it.

I feel pretty much at capacity as far as doing anything else today goes.

It’s been a pretty damn full week already.

It’s going to be ok though.

It is.

And I’m just going to wind this down a little early and do some self-care, make some hot tea, eat a snack and get snuggled down for the night.

No more work for today.

Just some rest.

Some very well deserved rest.

Seriously.

Long Days

February 28, 2018

And tomorrow will be another one.

I was asked yesterday by the mom to come in two hours before my scheduled time tomorrow.

I said yes.

They have been having a rough go of it, three sick kids.

The oldest boy had to call out of school today with an ear ache.

A trip to the pediatrician and it turns out he has an ear infection.

Meanwhile, back at the house, I had the baby strapped to me pretty much all day, he’s still so sick.

And at the doctor’s office the pediatrician was super concerned bout the little lady bug, who has now officially been out of school for ten days, and it turns out she has a severe lung infection.

The mom has also been sick, so the doctor ran a test on the mom to see if she’s got the flu bug that has been so vicious.

Negative.

Thank God.

I don’t know if I could have handled hearing that she had the flu.

I am healthy as fuck.

I rarely get sick.

I had a cold about a year ago.

And I’ve had a couple of instances of food poisoning this year.

Once from sushi and once from oysters.

Neither one was fun, the one from the sushi was horrendous and I won’t be going back to that restaurant again.

But.

I haven’t had the flu.

I did do the flu shot at the beginning of the year and I’m super grateful for that.

I don’t really know if it’s all that effective with the strain of the virus that has been going around, but I’m glad to know I have it.

Could just be the placebo effect.

Could be that I have pleaded with God to not let me get sick.

I am far too fucking busy for that.

So.

Tomorrow I will have a ten-hour day at work.

Gratefully I don’t have clients on Wednesday.

When I get off from work I will be coming home and making soup.

I didn’t have a chance to do food prep for the week, lunch prep, I did dinner, and I’ve been eating salads at lunch.

Which is lovely, don’t get me wrong, but with it being as cold as it’s been, I prefer a nice hot bowl of soup.

Today, though, I have to say it felt pretty good to have a big salad.

I eat really clean.

No sugar, no flour, and a few other things that I pretty much eschew.

But I don’t graze, I’m not typically a big salad eater.

They tend to be a last resort for me.

I like to have a meal cooked and hot for my lunch, especially, having a warm lunch at work really helps me be grounded.

But.

In a pinch, I’ll do a salad and I had hit up Rainbow yesterday after supervision and I got lots of good salad fixings to carry me a few days into the week until I could do some food prep.

The salad today seemed particularly to hit the spot.

Because.

Well.

Yoga.

I was, and am, very pleased to say that I finally made the 7 a.m. yoga class at my studio.

My therapist was out of office today, so we didn’t have a session, and although I love the family I work with, I was loath to say anything about having any extra time, I decided rather, to go in at my regular time and to allow myself some yoga this morning.

It was great.

My favorite instructor taught the class and it was small.

Saturday and Sunday there were at least thirty people crammed into the studio.

Today.

Not so much.

There were just three of us and the instructor.

And for the first time.

The guys outnumbered the girls.

Three guys and me.

It was pretty awesome.

And there was lots of hands on instruction and attention and it felt good to be in my body and I was very happy with it.

So happy that I pretty much pledged to be there again next week.

It turns out that I have enough time to do the yoga class before I go to therapy.

I have to plan out somethings, have my clothes ready, and all my bags and folders and books and meals and what have you packed, but I can do it.

I can do the 7 a.m. class, get back to the house, take a quick shower, dress, do hair and makeup and get out of the house in a timely enough manner that I will be able to be on time for my therapy session.

I am pleased as fuck that I can fit it in.

I even discussed, fingers crossed, with my instructor the possiblility of the studio doing another morning class.

He’s all about it.

And the owner, in an e-mail recently, had mentioned that they were considering it.

On Thursdays.

Which would be perfect for me.

It would literally mean something almost every day of the week before work, but it would also mean staying flexible doing some good self-care and getting more exercise, which I have been craving.

So.

Yeah.

It felt pretty good to eat a great big salad after doing a 7 a.m. yoga class and going to work and being a really good nanny.

The baby took two very long naps on me and was either being carried by me and sitting right next to me the entire day.

He craves being held.

It makes so much sense, just the comfort of being held, it is such a nice thing.

I miss it too.

I have that same craving.

I suspect many of us do.

I sense, though, that it will come to me again.

Patience I tell myself.

Patience.

Just be patient.

Baby girl.

All good things to those who wait.

 

 

Sick Day

February 22, 2018

Oh all the poor, sweet, sick little monkeys.

I had a long nanny day.

Both my little charges were sick.

It was a day of snuggles and naps and a lot of videos.

I had to constantly be holding the baby, he just wouldn’t have it any other way.

At one point I had him down for a nap in his stroller and he kept waking up, feverish and upset, I took him out, brought him to his favorite little play area and sat on the floor with him.

Floor time is super important, just getting on the same level as a child, being there, he’s so much happier, even if I’m not super interactive, with me just being there, down on the floor with him.

I had a bunch of his favorite little snacks and got out his favorite toys and just sat in the sun with him and he ate a tiny snack and played a little bit, then he just turned and crawled up into my lap and lay his warm little head on my chest and hugged me.

I cuddled him up and hummed a little tune and the next thing I knew, he was sound asleep on me.

It was super sweet.

I mean.

I was sort of trapped, but it was a good kind of trapped.

I probably sat on the floor in the corner of the room for about an hour.

Fortunately it was in a sunny patch and there was a cozy braided rug underneath me to sit on and a wall to lean against.

I was happy to be holding him and be in the sun.

Especially considering how cold it’s been.

I just got in from my Wednesday night commitment and the walk back was hella brisk.

It is cold out there baby.

I could use a warm snuggle.

Or a hundred.

Or a thousand.

I could use a lot of warm snuggles.

Just saying.

I snuggled a lot with my little lady charge too.

We watched lots of Curious George videos and I made her homemade chicken soup with alphabet pasta.

I roll like that.

I peeled her apples to nibble on and made cups of tea and made sure she stayed hydrated and when she was sleepy I rubbed her back and petted her hair, tucking the long strands behind her small, sweet shell of an ear.

She fell asleep underneath my hand and it was such a tender moment.

I am very grateful for it, for the job, even when I was pretty wiped out by the end of the day.

The little lady bug has been sick all week and the baby has gotten it and by the end of the day, even though I’m not sick, I was pretty tired out from it.

It takes a lot of a person to constantly nurture and in one way or another I do a lot of care taking.

That is what my job is and what my internship is.

My chiropractor told me after listening to me talk about what I do, that she really wanted to help me because people in the helping careers don’t get taken care of well enough and it was obvious that I helped a lot of people.

There was a woman tonight who asked me how I do it and honestly, I’m not sure.

I pray a lot.

I try to get eight hours of sleep.

Which like never happens.

I manage six to seven most nights.

I eat well, that helps.

I try to get some fun in my life now and again.

I turn up the heat when I get home from work to take the chill out of the air in m studio, I try to keep it clean and pretty, I like to surround myself with beautiful things.

Not necessarily expensive things, but things that reflect who I am and where I have been, my little travels and journeys.

Fuck.

I forgot to send myself a postcard from D.C.

I always send a postcard!

Oops

Oh well.

I have so many amazing memories, I am sure they will suffice.

Plus I have the ticket from the Phillips House Museum, a notebook I bought at Kramer Books and Cafe off Dupont Circle and a book that I got there as well.

I picked up The Princess Bride.

My friend had never read it or even seen the movie and I got so into telling the story of it one afternoon that when I was at the bookstore looking for a souvenir notebook, I had to pick it up.

I have not owned a copy of it in sometime.

I remember well the first time I had read the book.

It amazed me.

It was such a powerful love story for me to read.

I must have been seventeen when I read it.

I had seen the movie in the theater and didn’t even know that there was a book.

A friend’s mother mentioned it in passing and then when she heard I hadn’t read the book, she loaned it to me.

I ate that book.

I read it so fast.

I was so enthralled.

I remember being in a romantic relationship, my first and only long-term relationship, and our first Valentine’s Day I gave him a copy of the book.

I was so excited.

It meant so much to me, that book.

He never read it

I used to fantasize that one day I would read it out loud to the love of my life while stroking his hair while his head rested in my lap.

I made a lot of romantic gestures in that long-term relationship that were never returned and I suppose at some point though I realized that it was going nowhere I would still try.

Eternal optimist I suppose.

The story still means a lot to me.

Stories do.

I like to tell them.

I like to write them.

I like to believe that narrative has the power to heal.

That the love shines through the words and that whenever I am in doubt I can return to the thread of the story, know the truth of it, the strength of it and lean in there.

Old fashioned romantic.

That’s me.

Wishing you, now and always.

Happily ever after.

Always that.

Always.

 

Nope

October 5, 2017

My homework is not done.

I have been hoping to have time to read all week at work and I have had the baby non-stop.

Which is great, but no down time.

The baby also really likes napping on me.

Which I love, my God, I love it, but no reading is happening.

Instead.

I find myself sitting and looking at things.

Yes.

Some of those things are social media.

But mostly.

I find myself looking at nature.

Today he napped on me up at Douglas park.

The grounds crew for SF Parks and Rec had just gone through and mowed the grass.

It was a gorgeous high, tight, bright blue sky kind of San Francisco day.

The park is on top of the city way up in the hills towards Diamond Heights on Douglas at Clipper.

It’s flat, but surrounded by a steep cliff and towering trees.

I stood in the open field of grass gently rubbing the baby’s back and humming to him and looking at the grass.

When was the last time I sat, well stood really, and looked at grass?

It was gorgeous.

So green.

And wet.

There was dew and the sunlight sparkled and the sky was blue, blue, blue, and the air smelled so good and I was alone with the baby in a field of grass surrounded by sky and trees.

Who the fuck gives a good god damn about school work.

It will get done when it needs to get done.

Being with the baby is actually the kind of break that I need when I let myself acknowledge it.

He slows me down, I have to be very present and then once he’s asleep, which today took a bit, he’s also teething, so yeah, the bad part of trying to get a baby to sleep who’s teething.

Screaming.

A screaming baby strapped to one’s chest is not the most relaxing thing.

I over heard someone say once, “I’d rather have a bomb strapped to my chest, at least it would be quiet.”

But then.

The exquisite relief when he stops crying, when he lays his heavy warm head on my chest and sighs really big and just drops into the sleep, secure, safe, held.

It is bliss.

And I got to have the experience twice today.

Once at Douglas park and once at the home.

When he naps on me at the house I tend to sequester myself in a corner of the house where the mom won’t be so that she has a moment to be baby free and work on her own work for a while.

Today I was in the play room.

For a while I was on the back porch, next to the gigantic avocado tree, overlooking the city, which still strikes me with its loveliness, which still floors me with its beauty and that I still get to live here.

Such a huge gift.

May I always.

I love to travel.

But having San Francisco as my home is so important to me.

I have created such a life for myself here I cannot imagine making it elsewhere.

And you know.

I did try.

Paris.

But here, San Francisco, is home and I had left my heart here and back I came and the city opened wide its arms and said welcome back, prodigal daughter, now don’t do that again.

And I know its crazy and techy and millienially and weird and there are places where kombucha is on tap and there are lots of Tesla’s on the road and privilege and segregation and racism, covert, and more privilege and holy shit the rent and the cost of anything.

But.

Oh.

The beauty.

The houses, the bay, the bridges, the islands, the restaurants, the smell of delicious things being made everywhere, the farmers markets in all the neighborhoods, the Victorians, the colorful paint, the fog, Ocean Beach, Sea Cliff, The MOMA, The Legion of Honor, The DeYoung.

The smell of eucalyptus.

The sound of fog horns in the morning.

Riding my scooter up and over Laguna Honda and onto Clipper Street today, the view, my god, I live in a literal movie set.

It is magic.

And it is where I feel myself, who I am with no apology, with pink pom poms on my shoes, or a flower in my hair, not that I wear them so much anymore since I have been taking clients, but I still have them, and the art, the street art in particular, I love it, so, so, so much.

And coffee.

Oh coffee.

So much good coffee.

So much.

I am a spoiled brat.

I love my city, I love San Francisco, I love that I go to school here, that I live here, that I chose it as much as it chose me.

I know plenty of people who have had to move away and I have gotten to stay and it boggles the mind sometimes.

I make less than the median income.

Way less.

Like I make half the median income.

But.

I make it work and I don’t feel deprived.

I mean.

I bought prosciutto today at a new butcher shop in Noe Valley.

And duck sausages.

I eat organic foods and I have a scooter.

I have a job, I get to go to graduate school, I have music, a Macbook Air, I have an Iphone.

I have.

Better yet.

Better than stuff and things.

I have happiness.

I have joy.

I have freedom.

I have perspective.

I am of service.

I am loved.

And that.

More than anything.

Means more than anything.

I have love.

Love.

I have you.

Writing You Love Letters

October 3, 2017

While you sleep.

The tears on my face still drying.

There are things I should do and things I could do.

But all I want.

All I ever want.

Is to be with you.

I want nothing more than to hold you close.

I die a little inside when I think about you being alone.

I don’t want you to be alone, I want you to be seen and held and strong and true.

I want you to know how much, how very much, I love you.

I know you say you know.

I know you do.

I know you know I adore you.

And I cannot stop saying the words.

Like the Raven in that one poem from long ago.

On a dark and dreary night who cannot stop repeating itself.

I repeat and repeat.

And it’s just true.

I can’t stop.

My heart fills with the music you send me.

You a poetry font of expression and longing and joy.

All wrapped up in a 90s love ballad.

You send me love letters in music.

It is the best.

It is beyond the best.

It is you tender and sweet and true.

Oh baby.

I miss you.

I do.

Once upon a time when I was a younger woman, a girl really.

Full of longing and unspoken need.

I would dream of someone like you.

Who would romance me with music.

Who would seduce me with song.

I would dance around my room alone and dream about you.

There are times I feel that I have dreamt you into being.

This revery that I am afraid to wake from.

A beauty so keen.

You have changed me.

I am in the presence of a dream.

I am smote.

You are my undoing.

And.

My doing.

You are my everything.

My dream made real.

My 90s love ballad come true.

 

Blossom Song

September 19, 2017

The way you look at me.

The way your eyes follow my face.

Leaving me melting on the floor.

A pool of desire, lapping warm at my ankles.

My face sweltering with love, a heat shined

Brighter than the moon in darkest skies.

You.

Are.

Exquisite.

Like plum trees

Blooming out of season.

The petals fresh surprised in autumnal air.

Magic that kisses me senseless.

I am without shame.

My need for you subsumes all doubt

With wild veracity.

And now, as I look out across the expanse of space ahead of me.

I sense you there.

On the horizon.

So near.

Like a taste that just alludes memory.

I sense your sweetness in the cinnamon tea I drink.

Reflected in the freckles on my face,

Planted there like promises of kisses on my cheeks.

Ghost leftovers of love smattering my skin.

There is music.

There too, your hands.

Navigating their way through my hair.

Oh.

Slippery time.

I wait for you to pass.

In colors midnight blue

And longing.

Wearing Elvis Presley shoes.

And.

Swagger.

March along.

Move along.

Take that road home to you.

My baby.

I’m waiting.

Just waiting.

Over there.

Beneath that canopy of

Soft purple pink

Blooming sweet fruit promises.

Ensorcelled.

I am so ready for you.

Sweep me up.

Again.

Baby.

Please, baby, please.

In the crooning cradle.

Of.

Your.

Temptuous.

Love.

Song.

 

Smash Me

September 16, 2017

Baby.

Demolish my heart.

Blow me up.

Smithereens.

Kisses like the pause between lighting.

And.

Thunder.

I like your smash.

Baby.

I do.

Oh.

God.

I do.

You drive me crazy, baby.

You knock me out.

I go insane for you.

I hold my breath.

I see stars.

I lose all control.

You break me asunder.

I am all tied up in you.

Heart to heart.

Skin on skin.

Sinking into all that is you.

Becoming all that is us.

Blown apart and mashed back together.

The heat in my face.

The glow in your eyes.

The light playing over your skin.

The way I feel you in my body, an ache.

A knowing.

A fire stoked.

The nexus of you.

Pulsing in me.

Smashed right to my core.

Centralized.

Crystalized.

Captured.

You in my being.

You at my center.

You.

And

Flushed.

Now I sit.

Flashed out in memory of just moments ago.

Already aching to see you again.

I’m not dying.

Baby.

I’m just in love.

So.

Smash me.

I’m always gonna want your smash.

I can’t wait to see you again.

My mouth already anticipating.

The feel of you.

The touch of you.

The slick, soft, sexy.

I’m so damn in it.

I’m so all about you.

Smash.

Me.

Baby.

I’m absolutely.

Begging.

You.

Pretty.

Pretty.

Please.

 

Baby, Oh Baby

July 25, 2017

I got some good snuggles today from my friends twins.

Oof.

The gorgeousness of them is devastating.

The heft and weight of a baby sleeping upon my shoulder has to be one of the most beautiful feelings I have gotten to experience.

I’ve held a few of them.

The smell of baby, too, such amazingness.

Makes me feel very human.

I joked with my friend that it was a good thing I was on my period or I would spontaneously conceive holding the babies.

I’m 44 years old though.

I am pretty much at the point where if it was going to happen it would have by now.

I wonder if I had things different, if I had gotten better faster, had a better childhood, yada, yada, yada, if I would have had children.

I certainly could have gotten pregnant in the past.

I was not always the most on top of it lady in regards to my sexual interactions.

I.E.

I was not using protection.

I guess I just got lucky.

Or unlucky.

Depends on your perspective.

“You are going to make such a great mom,” is something that I have heard more times than I can count.

It is always such a compliment.

“I see you with children, I can imagine you with twins,” said a woman I used to work with years ago.

I was a twin.

Maybe there’s something there, but twins tend to skip a generation in my family, it’s doubtful I would have twins from that perspective.

I have done a lot of nanny shares, so juggling two babies is not outside my realm of experience.

Being with my friend and her twins reminded me of that, doing the nanny shares I have gotten to do.

Huge gifts those experiences.

I have been a nanny for over ten years now.

I have had so many children, from that perspective.

I have raised many children.

Sure.

None of them have been mine.

But.

Oh.

They have all been mine.

I have gotten to experience a depth of love that is vast and profound and I am always, ALWAYS, surprised that I have this deep capacity, this well, of love that seems to be infinite.

I have thought.

“I can never love another child as much as I love this child, this baby, this little one, right now in my arms, fallen asleep on me,” all the heavy, sweet, luscious love that has been in my arms, there is no way I could have more of that.

But.

Every child.

EVERY child I have picked up I have felt that love, vast and universal and profound.

It astounds me.

The profundity of it.

The gift of it.

I think.

See.

You have gotten to have all the experiences of unconditional love that you didn’t get when you were little, you got to see all these children being loved and taken care of, you have witnessed so many first smiles and laughs and the sweet dreams and yes, all the other milestones that are not as much fun but help shape the vast enormous and extraordinary experience of watching a child grow.

I have borne witness to miracles.

Again and again.

Each child a mystery and opportunity to again learn the face of God, the rosebud mouth that purses for milk from the bottle, the drowsy scent that arises from the warm body, like some sort of baking bread smell that intoxicates me and lures me back for another long inhale of sweet baking baby.

I must have smelled the twins every other minute.

Fresh baby.

So delicious.

I don’t know if I am sad that I haven’t had my own children, for I have had a wealth of children.

I do know and I can acknowledge that for many, many years I would not even entertain the idea of having children.

I knew my sister wanted babies.

And she had two.

But I always thought, nope, no children for me.

And.

I have not had a one.

Nor a pregnancy.

Not once.

Not even really a scare.

Knock on wood.

But yeah, since I’m currently on my cycle, I don’t think┬áthere’s anything happening there.

Ha.

I know so many women who have agenda, must get partner, must get pregnant, must, must, must.

I have heard it from contemporaries, community, women in my fellowship, desperate and straining against their own body clocks.

I feel it.

I have felt the clock tick tocking in the corner of my uterus, and there were times when my hormones had me clocking any man who gave me a spare glance, but nothing ever took.

I used to think, after I got sober, you know, give it a year and I’ll be in a relationship and then you know, a great job, and you know, a book contract, and a movie adaptation and then a house, and you know, a couple of kids.

That was a drawing I did in therapy.

I might have had about two years of sobriety at the time.

Shit.

I forgot about that picture.

It was an assignment my therapist asked me to do.

Draw my home, draw my goals.

I feel I might have that drawing stashed somewhere in my piles and stacks of notebooks, but I can describe it pretty well.

I am standing, pregnant, with a girl, I think I somehow indicate that it was a girl in my belly, with a little boy holding my hand, blue eyes, dark hair, and there was a man next to me holding my hand and we were all smiling, the house was three stories, I mean I went for it, and had a back yard and garden and a brick patio, it had a swing set and slide and a tire swing, I mean, come one, everyone needs a tire swing, it might have had an apple tree.

The inside of the house that I can remember having colored in was a library, with a fireplace and a big deep leather couch and a cat curled up on the hearth in front of the fireplace and bookshelves so full of books.

I had a study on the third floor, my own office.

I also drew things in the a small circle around a globe.

I wanted to be a world traveler.

I drew an airplane circling the globe and a tiny Eiffel tower and I think islands somewhere.

So.

Yeah.

At two years of sobriety I figured, won’t be too long now, I’ll have a husband and a little boy and a little girl, a house and office and books and I’ll be a writer and we’ll all travel together and it will be perfect.

I was 34.

Now.

I am 44.

None of those things happened.

Well.

That’s not true.

The travel did.

I have gotten to do a lot of traveling since I drew that picture.

The house I modeled it on was an Italianate red brick Victorian in the Mission that has a back carriage house and I could envision there being a garden back there and a swing set.

The man.

Well, he was a mystery.

Life hasn’t given me what I expected.

Fact is.

I have been given more than I could have dreamed of.

I have been given an astounding amount of love and so many opportunities to grow and so many times have I gotten to experience the unconditional love of a child that I don’t feel that I have lost out on some important life experience.

If anything I have heard from many people that they envy the life I have created for myself.

It hasn’t always looked pretty and I’ve fallen down and had to start over and I am now in the process of becoming something entirely different from what I set out to be.

But ultimately.

What I really wanted.

The thing that I wanted the most, the most, the MOST.

Was love.

And I have been showered with love.

Washed in love.

I have been given so much love I can’t breathe sometimes when I see it.

My heart is so full and I get to love right back.

The extraordinary experience of letting myself be loved.

Love in all its forms and sweetness.

And there is no end to it.

There really isn’t.

And I feel that is the key.

That I am not searching for something I think I am missing.

I know what I have.

And it is invaluable.

There is no price tag on it.

And it worth everything.

This love.

Well.

Not only is it worth everything.

It is everything.

And so.

I wish you the same.

That you be so graced and so touched with love.

You must know.

Deep in your heart.

How much you are loved.

So much.

I haven’t the alphabet for the words to spell it out.

But you.

Love.

Well.

You are poetry.

 

When I Lose You

July 20, 2017

It will hurt.

What if you don’t have to?

What if?

You don’t have to lose me?

Don’t listen to those old stories lover mine.

They are just dusty faded book jackets for unrequited love.

Those stories don’t apply to us.

We are something more.

Something more than finite.

Infinite love.

Infinite good.

God smacked.

Graced.

Gorgeous, golden, you.

I have besmirched my heart for you.

And

I will stand naked before any jury.

Gallows.

Be damned.

Ours is not the history of failure.

Rising above the fog.

Riding along the waves which batter my heart.

And.

Grind down the rough edges.

All the shows and previews that your mind have written for you.

Well.

They are not true.

Not true in the sense of who we are.

Who I am.

I am so adorned in my love for you.

All this.

Passion.

Dirty blues songs ain’t got nothing on me.

Enhanced by your love.

I will wear it like the war paint of gods.

Driving further into the land of unknown.

Despite.

How well I know the darkness there, the fear that can come.

Careening out of those chasms.

I am stronger.

I will sing for you.

Cry for you.

Fight.

I am not going anywhere.

You cannot lose something that belongs to you.

I am a part of you.

As you have been imparted to me.

A blessing.

A gift.

Gracing me with all that is you.

All that is the glory of you.

It has been pressed into my skin.

All.

The.

Glorious.

Glad hearted.

Gorgeousness.

That.

Is.

You.

Don’t worry baby.

Baby mine.

I am not going anywhere.

Not now.

Not at.

Any.

Time.


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