It’s raining. Really raining. Has been all day, and I love it. Typical, right? California girl talking about how much she adores a good downpour.
But something about it is cleansing, freeing, calming. Time slows during thunderstorms. Maybe all the skyward chaos swirling outside my cozy four walls overpowers everything else. Perhaps it’s the sound of water falling on my patio, pinging against metal and terracotta and canvas in soft melodies. Or the cold that chills my toes and sends me searching for my wool socks from Ireland and a warm blanket to snuggle beneath.
But ultimately I think it’s because, despite the science behind precipitation, water falling from the sky is so damn magical and mysterious.
It goes back to being a child and finding delight in things I hadn’t fully learned yet. I saw the same spark in my son this morning. He sat in his car seat, looking up at the sunroof and marveling at the drips dropping on the glass. He pointed and jabbered about them the entire ride home.
Pure wonder. That’s what I saw in his eyes. In his smile. In the way he wouldn’t look at anything else but the gray clouds outside.
I hope he hangs onto that feeling forever. I think we all need some of that long after childhood.
Wonder is good for the soul.
Nothing makes a woman tired like motherhood. Motherhood is drinking coffee because you actually need the caffeine to jumpstart the morning (or afternoon). It’s forgetting what you just said to someone five minutes ago. It’s not eating dinner until nine o’clock, after baby is tucked in tight with a belly full of milk and a kiss lingering on his forehead. Motherhood is finally cozying down in your bed, melting into the mattress, just about to close your eyes when baby wakes up hysterical or wet or in need of a cuddle.
All of those things. Every day. Every. Day.
But what’s even more insane is how we mamas make it through every day. Fatigue doesn’t slow us down. We have our littles to thank for that. The morning smiles and babbles. The yummy sounds they make between bites of purée. The joy they find during bath time, splashing around and reaching for toys. How they instantly calm when we hug away their bad dreams in the late hours of the night. When we are their safe.
I may be one wiped out mama zombie who can’t remember the last time I woke up refreshed and filled with energy. But it’s a small sacrifice for the many gifts my son gives me. I’ll take the tired forever. Just keep on sunnying my world, my sweet baby boy.
Watching my son learn is magical. There’s nothing like it. Last weekend he taught himself to roll over. He was playing on the floor, babbling away, when I caught the tail-end of him teetering from his back to his tummy. And then again a minute later. And then again.
He didn’t quite remember his new trick a couple hours later. I had to swing one leg over the other to remind him. As soon as I helped him along, he was back to his cute wobble from back to front, balancing all his weight on his elbow.
I expected I’d have to show him this for another week or so before he remembered. But no. Bubs proved mama wrong earlier this week by rolling on his own with no reminding. And he continued to do so even after I flipped him on his back over and over. It became a game of sorts. Until he spit up from the excitement.
Just a few months ago he was struggling to hold his head up on his own. And before that we met for the first time in a hospital room. Last summer he was bundled snug in my tummy, not knowing that one day he would accomplish something huge like rolling over.
And now he’s growing and learning faster than I can keep up. Part of me wants him to stay this small forever, but the other part can’t wait to see what he’ll show me tomorrow.