Sunday, November 11, 2012

My Life as a Flemish Painting

If I were a liar, I'd say that motherhood fit me like a glove.  That I felt perfectly fulfilled all the time.  That I never asked myself, what the H happened to my awesome life, my autonomy, my ability to take one of those deep, free breaths of the untethered?

I'm not a liar.  I wouldn't say the first.  I wouldn't say the second.  I sometimes ask the third, fourth, and fifth.

But then, other times, like tonight, when James and I walk Edie around in the stroller until she squirms and squishes, and then we each take ahold of a baby-hand and walk her down the lamp-lit street, and she looks at her shadow, toddling along with her jeggings and round belly, and I look at that shadow just as hard, maybe sometimes I would say the first, and I would say the second.  And I'd still wonder the third, fourth, and fifth, but the questions are quieter, farther away, almost a whisper.


6 comments:

  1. Is it creepy that I love love love reading your entries. That I think you could have your own late night show. That I think you should write a book and actually publish it, so that I could further and more intensely LOVE LOVE LOVE your writing?

    From a fan,
    D

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  2. hey dude, this is good, and it actually expresses pretty much how I feel too. thanks for putting it in words.

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  3. I think more mother's feel this way than we can see simply because verbalizing it is amazingly difficult so no one tries. But THIS pretty much sums it up. So, thanks.

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  4. Sums it up for me too. You're good at that. Wish we lived on the same street. We're going to see you in a few weeks, k? promise?

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  5. actually, just realized, Thanksgiving is NEXT WEEK, whoa!

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  6. baby jeggings can do so much.

    love it, high five.

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