a new walk

I feel like I’ve been off in emotional recovery and rehab rather than here on this blog. As much as what’s here is part of me, much of it still hurts to revisit. Since deciding to tentatively reclaim this spot as a means to express myself (CATHARSIS WIN!), I’ve been reading past posts, laughing and crying and nodding in agreement with myself.

I thought that motherhood would separate me from the past but it just made me so busy that I didn’t have much time to sit and remember.

It’s been almost three years since I envisioned my future with The Dog and Child. In his first year on the outside, JJ spent part of every other day in a stroller or sling as we wandered the neighbourhood, The Dog as our proud, if far too protective, escort. The Dog’s leash is now gripped by 2.5 year old JJ, who thinks he’s controlling the walk, unaware that I’m still setting the pace with a few words to our responsive girl. The Dog does give me a look like she’s soooo hard done by whenever JJ picks up her leash but it’s the only time that she gets to run now that JJ refuses to get into a jogging stroller. His response to seeing the stroller is a stern “I walk, Mama!”. With that, he’ll pick up the dog’s leash and scream “go go go!”. They run at his top speed in unison until his little legs tire and he stops, laughing and proud of how fast his shoes go.  Neither child nor dog will cross the street without me (yet) so I can walk at my own pace, laughing at their antics, The Dog washing his little face with her tongue if he gets within range.

It’s joy I never imagined.

 

bottle this

I have an almost three year old now.

He’s amazing. Like, really funny and goofy and we made cupcakes tonight and he poured juice for both of us to drink with our snacks and he giggled at the dog and accused her of wanting his cupcake (smart kid) and was distressed when the icing hit his shirt… he is the personification of a run-on sentence. When he was done sucking back a metric tonne of sugar, he hugged me hard for no reason, kissed my cheek and ran off to play trains.

He’s not perfect by any means. I mean, he’s TWO and working on being the poster child for that age. He’s stubborn and independently strong willed and he stamps his foot and yells “NO” and has to do everything himself which often drives him to frustrated tears and tantrums and why does he need to get into my brightest lip gloss but when he wakes me up at 3am to tell me that he was dreaming about daddy’s truck or bugs or our dog, I want to hold him tight and remember the moment. I want to smell it, taste it, document it in every form because it feels so right, even when I’m thinking “for the love of all that’s holy, GO TO SLEEP”.

This little body snuggled into mine.

This little boy that I longed to meet.

This little person that makes my heart sing.

P.S. Today I added the Category of “motherhood” to this blog. And then, I cried. Some wounds never seem to completely heal.