It’s been so long.

Wasn’t I supposed to be online on February 20th, yelling to cyberspace about my little boy turning one? One. One whole year on this planet. One. One whole year as a mom. Both of us are still breathing. It’s a triumph, nothing less. But it’s so hard to find the time.

I want to learn how to write about it. New. It’s what we all want isn’t it? To write in fresh turns what we’ve experienced as a species forever. Ha ha! No, Kitty, it’s not what we all want. It’s what you want. Or what writers want. To explain, somehow, about how it’s too much – bearing the weight of his love (i.e., dependence) and then, at other times, how I just look at him, or at the two of them: my boys, and I am overcome, want to lap them up like milk.