daffodils
Because of my son's fascination with the answering machine buttons, we get to hear the real estate agent's message over and over again. Her voice sounds almost bored -- “as convenient and painless as possible,” her dog barking in the background.
My buffer is gone, nothing between me and the outside world, which has apparently just become even more hostile. Where should I put the daffodil blossoms?
Holding Isaac in the rocking chair, he is long asleep, but I don't dare put him down. It's like the weight of him is rooting me, like without him I will just float away, or he will, or both of us, in separate directions.
Mike comes home; the house is dark. He finds me, finally, in Isaac's room. “What are you doing?” he asks. “Holding the baby,” I answer. “You have to put him down some time,” he says. But I shake my head and rock.
Stumble It!
3 comments:
Kitty,
I remember feeling like that, like the connection between my baby and me was the only thing keeping me in one piece. I remember going to gatherings I didn't really want to be at, and holding a child on my lap as defense against the crowd. Hold on while you can. Judy
PS The daffodils made the moce just fine.
Kitty,
I'm so happy you posted on my blog. Somehow, I lost my blog roll and I kept googling every combination of details I could remember from your blog but still, I wasn't able to find you. I was so sad. I love reading your words and I missed this. Now that I've found you, or you have surfaced, I've got lots of catching up to do!
You made my day. Oh, and thanks for the article.
Brooke
Hi Kitty,
It occurred to me that one of the blogs I read regularly would probably be right up your alley. Check it out at bitchphd.blogspot.com.
Cheers,
Katie
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