1,2,3,4,5,6,7...lift off

Button, button, what do you see?
You have two eyes more than me.

Zipper, zipper, why do you run?
Going back and forth does not seem fun.

Shoelace, shoelace why so lazy?
Dragging and slithering on the floor is crazy.

                                ~By Mommy, 
                                       Inspired by August

August is seven months old now and busy discovering the world around her.
Fascination is found in the smallest of things, like buttons.
Textures are thrilling, leather sofas, shaggy dogs.
Trees moving about above her command wide eyed attention.

She has met all my friends, been to all my favorite Austin spots,
and will be joining me this Saturday to attend the opening of the
Blue Genie Art Bazaar, lighting of the downtown tree and singing
Christmas carols with everyone.
It feels like month seven is lift off.

August had a hard day.

She thinks I will leave her and never return. I disappear behind walls, exit her world through a door, duck behind counters...I am gone. Her eyes fill with tears and her cries break my heart. If she cannot see me, I no longer exist and she misses me, her source of food and warmth. Already her Papi has been gone, off to work in another city. He is waiting for us to join him in a week.  All she has left is me and she is keeping a close eye on Mommy.  

She was like this over the summer when her Papi went off to work for  ten hours a day for the first time in her life. To think he is afraid she will forget him... Not likely. The girl misses her Papi, her family is incomplete and it adds to the anxiety babies begin to feel between six and nine months. Tomorrow we see him for the first time in two weeks and I am looking forward to it. August doesn't expect it. None of us is use to this sort of disunion. We don't like it very much.  

It's been so long, lifetimes ago, since I experienced the achy feeling of separation. It was when Abuelita left to return to Mexico after visiting for several weeks. We spent every moment of the day together. I never anticipated her departure. There was only the present. When we'd visit Mexico, I would get that same painful heartache, missing my Grandmother in the U.S. I would not be seeing her for several weeks. There were tears for several hours followed by small outbursts for a few days.  

The tears stemmed from deep in my heart and were triggered by thoughts of their hugs and warmth, sweet things they would tell me or of losing them forever. I don't remember when that sort of suffering stopped and became missing them without tears and extreme heartache. I can't believe I forgot how something so distressing once felt. It is all coming back to me now. How it smarts.  

Thanksgiving

It's a gathering.

We have access to television but don't always take advantage of it. This morning I tuned in and the theme, on every morning program, is Thanksgiving. Topiaries, photo booths, tricks and tips to encourage conversation between the young and old at the table, were just a few of the segments.

How sad. I do hope that Thanksgiving for most Americans is a gathering, one that does not need topiaries or expensive tableware, stylish table cloths or involves feelings of inadequacy. It's a gathering of friends or family or both, of memories, of hope for future Thanksgiving dinners. It does not need to be perfect, photo perfect, family perfect or perfect-perfect. It needs only to happen. Attempted.

This is Anna Maria's first Thanksgiving and sadly, her Papi will be absent as he is off working hard for us both. We will miss him dearly. We will be spending Thanksgiving with family, her Madrinas. I am thankful for the chance to spend it with my long time friends and family, I've seen very little of them these past 18 months.

Last year Jacob and I spent Thanksgiving in Pennsylvania, sitting as close as we could to each other in the booth of a wonderful restaurant that was near our motor lodge. I watched the Macy's parade, we got dressed, walked over and enjoyed our little dinner. I was nearly four months pregnant. We then watched old movies the rest of the day. We were together.

Charlie Brown Thanksgiving was buttered toast, jelly beans and popcorn, served outside on a ping-pong table with mismatched chairs. Peppermint Patty was disgusted. That always saddened me because Snoopy and Woodstock did their best.

All you can do is your best, serve it with genuine love. I sincerely hope that no one gets caught up with the superficial this Thanksgiving. Don't get hung up on the menu, decor, sitting arrangements etc...be flexible, be open, be thankful. We have so few of these in a lifetime.

Beatsville, Home of the Beatnik Baby

Six months along...Part ll

My husband is a strong and silent type. He can be stoic until you bring up records or babies and then you will find a face that truly reminds you of a young Santa Claus.  His smile, his eyes, his voice,  genuine kindness. While he may not, literally, make mountains move, he moves me. When I think I can't, this beautiful soul inspires and drives me. What he doesn't know, is when I look at him, I hear Carpenters love songs.

Recently, as I was going over the photos of these past six months, I noticed something happening. Throughout the photos I spotted an evolution, more of a metamorphisis. I see my husband becoming a dad.