Monday, May 4, 2009

Memory Part 1

Memory
Part of Speech: noun
Definition: ability to hold in the mind


The ability to hold anything in my mind appears to be fading, and fading fast. Truly the reason I started this blog (and then promptly took a well deserved 48 day hiatus) is because I have so many small things I want to remember about the Salad. Details from when they were bitty 4 pound babies seem near impossible to recall with 820 days worth of new memories edging them further from the forefront. To start at the beginning makes the most sense, but doesn't feel stream of consciousness enough for me. So I will continue to blog and occasionally throw a Memory in the midst.

Today M got very upset when I told them that we had to wrap up Play-doh and wash hands to eat lunch. A typical 2 year old tantrum is anything but for M. Once he works himself up, he has a hard time calming himself. He tries. He looks for things that make him feel better. He'll search out his Blue Beary. He'll ask Daddy to wash his hands. He'll request alone time on the stairs. But most often what he seeks, what soothes his soul, what eases his mind, is me. Tears as big as rain drops make those mile long lashes clump together and while his chest heaves those heartbroken sobs, I'll catch it. "Mommy, hold like a baby?!"


And so I do. I scoop that 26 pound, 34" toddler right up and rock him until I feel the relief come to his little body.


I inevitably flash back to the infant days when I would stay up late, watching the minutes tick away until I could feed him his last bottle of the day. The girls had done away with theirs, but M was so tiny that I would sneak in and steal him away from his crib. I would sit on the couch downstairs, with the lights dimmed so low I could barely make out his face and try to get 4 ounces into him while he slept, the only way he would drink a bottle. He would suck it down in no time at all and I would hold him a while longer, studying his straight nose and perfectly round pumpkin head and suddenly his lips would pucker up, thinking there was more to be had and he would start sucking again. Then he would
sigh a tiny sigh. And then I would
sigh a tiny sigh and off to bed we'd go.
Sigh. Off to bed I go.

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