8 Month Heartbreak

The last time I posted here, Frankie was 4 weeks old...he was a "tiny" baby compared with his lumbering crawling self. There is a little dark spot in his gums where a first tooth is beginning to appear... and he is actually interested in food, if it's the real stuff, as in not mushy but tiny bites of tasty food. It all began with a pretzel, and now he's convinced! This morning we shared an everything bagel with cream cheese at the Book Mill, our loveliest spot. And then, he slept on my chest, something that doesn't happen so much these days. And then, the mama cried. Maybe it's the three-day weekend...maybe the stomach flu from a few days ago...but it does seem that parenting means living in a state of heartache.

I forget it so often, living with such a friendly and loving boy. I forget it in my work, fully engaged with my 2nd and 3rd graders. But, those Monday mornings come hard and fast and tearfully. The world has just handed me a great gift, a full-time teaching job, at the most wonderful school I can imagine. A place where a teacher can be free, where my clown is alive, where we can take the kids to the woods for math. I love my colleagues...so intellectual and wacky... and, this means, a year of full-time work, a year of full-time daycare, many missed moments, many Mondays. I console myself with thoughts of long paid vacations, that helps a little.

I anchor with old friends via phone, I need them nearer... its a drizzly hot spring day. We're home on this Monday, and after Frankie wakes up, I'm taking him to a swimming hole.

xo