Independence

How fitting that on the eve before independence day I find the time to detach from the big guy and pay some attention to my own blog. I have so many thoughts I'd like to write down these days - thoughts that fly from my milk laden brain as fast as finches from the gaze of a red-tail. I'd had some idea that parenting would be like poetry - full of rich moments and intense images to chronicle. I guess it is, sometimes. But I never have the time or energy to chronicle those moments or images. I realize that so much of my latent baby know-how escapes me when it comes to engaging my own son. "It all goes out the window when it's your own, huh?!" remarked my Drumlin office mate when we visited. And it is true. I'm so deeply embedded in his every moment that I don't get the chance to step back and reflect the way I could when I had babies for a few hours a day. Here's my chance, and I think I might better use it by taking a nap! Instead, a few haiku.

*he is "cat watcher"
a sly smile and hiccup
so busy, his world*

*jeans will never zip
pudge pours out of yoga pants
the breasts are worth it*

*a breath of sweet milk
skin smooth as a white poppy
how did we make this?*