Jameson bits

Twice a day, I lay down next to Jameson while he drifts off to sleep. He doesn’t mind sleeping on his own “special bed” as long as someone cuddles with him for those 10 minutes. And I don’t mind obliging. Call it a crutch or a prop or whatever else, I’m not too worried. In fact, I love it. I realize that at least for now, with this child, it’s an opportunity for my pregnant body to lay down midday and rest, even if I don’t take a full-fledged nap. And in the evening, it’s a chance for me to slow down, to turn off the energy and agenda of the day.

And most of all, I know it won’t last forever. In fact, chances are, Daddy will do more and more bedtime with Jameson come late October. So for now, I’m loving those dimpled little arms wrapped around teddy’s neck. I love watching his eyes, wide open and staring into the dim evening, wondering what he’s thinking about and what far-off sound he’s taking in. And I love when he suddenly decides he needs to be curled right up against me as he drifts off to dreamland.

*****

As soon as we left New York, Jameson decided to begin adding to his small vocabulary of “yes” and “Mama.” One of the first new words, of course, was “Dad.” Now that he’s got that one under his belt, I hear it all day long.

He looks out the window: “Dad?”
We sit down for lunch: “Dad?”
Little feet hit the floor in the morning: “Dad?”
I open the door to get the mail: “Dad?”
We drive past the road Ryan’s office building is on: “Dad?”

Too cute.

*****

I have real cleaning on my agenda for this week. I knew I wouldn’t have to worry too much about how to entertain Jameson while working, and sure enough, this whole clearing furniture and rolling up rugs thing is totally exciting to his sanguine self. When I unzipped a pillow cover this morning, his eyes got huge and I got a big, “Wow!” in response. He’s such good company.

*****

Speaking of sanguine:

Last week we started doing devotions together. I wanted to start having some regular church practice, as well as just learning to sit still when I say so. At first, when I plopped him down on the couch next to me and pulled out his “Bible,” he wasn’t too happy about the whole thing. But when we moved from reading to prayer time, he started to catch on that we were doing something new and special. The best part, though, was when I sat him on the piano bench next to me while I sang “This is the Day.” He sat straight up the entire time, ankles crossed and hands folded in his lap, beaming up at me. And he couldn’t wait to sing the song for Daddy the next day.

back

I’m back home.

And back here, in my little space. Big thanks to Ryan, who at least kept some pictures going while I took a long, unplanned break from blogging. And when I say break, I don’t just mean from writing. I definitely took a break from reading, too, because google reader says I have over 400 unread posts to catch up on. Ha. Fat chance!

What an adventure this summer was. The first days of my time back in Madrid are hazy June memories. That was early summer, and now it’s definitely the end of the season. In between, trips to Maine, Florida, back to Maine, back to Madrid, and to Long Island made for lots of newer memories. Fun memories. Clam festivals, Red Sox hats in Papa’s den, riotous laughter with cousin Cam, first tastes of calamari, dinner at friends’ houses every night we were in Madrid, theater outings, tennis, wedding showers, anniversary celebrations, eating too much at Aunt Judy’s, building sand castles at the beach, mad-dashes onto subways with big bellies and toddlers on hips, trying on perfect wedding dresses, pulling off surprise parties, and taking three days and lots of flight cancellations to finally get home.

Phew.

That was a summer.

Coming home after two months away was a strange feeling. The last time I did such a thing, I was 16. I spent two months in India, and when I came back, I felt pretty lost. (And rich, but that’s beside the point.) Tuesday afternoon, when I opened the door, the kitchen was bigger than I’d remembered…and strange. I suddenly wondered where everything was kept, like I was a stranger in my own house.

For the record, such disoriented feelings are quickly cured by a full day spent unpacking. I knew there must be some purpose in that much-hated chore.

And now there’s just the overwhelming question of where to begin… Obviously the house needs to be thoroughly de-spidered and otherwise cleaned. That conveniently coincides with nesting instincts that have begun to kick in (at least, in the mental arena; I haven’t actually experienced much extra energy to carry out my ambitious plans.) Bedrooms need to be rearranged, and clothing needs to be sorted out. I need to work on more routine for the sake of Jameson. Yes, there’s all of that, too: what do I need to work on with him before a new baby makes their entrance? (More on that in future posts.) And routine for me: time to revamp and get excited about meal planning and daily grind that equals an inviting and restful home.

So yes, time to get back into the swing of things.

And in closing, *sigh*, I miss my mom.