Happy Birthday, Big Daddy....

You are loved, you are loved, you are really loved....

Give It Up For The AM, Y'all.

It's Fall pledge drive at WPLN, Nashville Public Radio.

My Beloved Mister will be pitching the AM side each afternoon this week (through Thursday) from as close to 3 as he can get there from his other job 'til 6 pm --
you can tune in at 1430 AM or online at http://www.wpln.org/ to listen in and to pledge while he's on air, should you feel so led....

Some of y'all may just wish to tune in to hear my man & Ziggy's Daddy at work. We're awfully proud of him and love to hear him on the air.

Oh, My Busy Heart.

Ms. Booty Homemaker is disorganized in thinking and fast typing.... sorry so absent of late. Busy hands, busy breasts, busy mind, busy heart.

Oh, my busy heart! So in love with my baby boy. So in love with my husband.

I'm feeling better, rounding a corner on the mending. Still on restriction w/r/t activities; it's okay. The lifting of the nightly fevers and hallucinations and night sweats is tremendous and has allowed me to sleep more than three or four hours (cumulatively) a night-- that has been wonderful: a tonic for physical and mental well being in the darkness bears its fruit hours.

The days are still good as they always have been, and the nights that were so hard are measurably better. The pain / discomfort / sleep deprivation is all very manageable at this point and I just lean into feeling tired when I am. Plus which, the cloudy mind has cleared, a gift in acuity.

We've figured out how to do side lying nursing (new improved with time body mechanics for gimpy me) and that helps so much in the big night stretching out before us. Last night was the first night we used it exclusively instead of having to get up out of bed and Baby Booty is just thriving. He is so beautiful, so clean and perfect and stunning and lovable. My Beloved Mister is absolutely mad about him. It's so gratifying and fulfilling and sweeter than words can say.

We get up (Ziggy and I, that is....) about 4:30 or 5 every morning. We nurse and cuddle and I sing and talk to him. Do a diaper change. Put him down while I start coffee and shower. By 5:45 or so my Mister is up and he walks Bert, then cleans and re-dresses and packs my incision wound site. While he readies for work, Ms. Booty's busy hands, busy breasts, busy mind, busy heart busy themselves with Ziggy and getting us both dressed and ready for the day of cozying in, an activity which is pychologically helpful, even if it means a bit more wear from the effort. That genuinely is reflected in my mental / emotional state, which ultimately has a profound effect on my recovery and on how present I can be for my husband and son. And self.

Oh, be still my busy dizzy heart. There are no words to tell how much we are loving one another in these moments, these days, these early precious weeks of being a family.

And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out.

Sunday September 25, 2005: our Ziggy is born; a family, too.

I guess I'm already there....

"Home - is where I want to be

But I guess I’m already there

I come home - -she lifted up her wings

Guess that this must be the place

I can’t tell one from another

Did I find you, or you find me?

There was a time before we were born

If someone asks, this is where I’ll be . . . where I’ll be"

--Talking Heads

walking through the skin of another life.

my beloved mister and me, we are walking through the skin of another life.

our son: he is beautiful. amazing. the best kind of gift that isn't a surprise.

and yet, we are humbled.

this morning, i gave our ziggy a sponge bath, perked up his rooster-jesus cock's comb hair.
then read him a book, the classic: Are You My Mother?

yes, yes, yes, my boy. i am your mother. it is the most astonishingly lovely thing your daddy and i have yet known and it makes us love and appreciate one another even more, magnifying the astonishingly lovely union of the two of us, now the three of us.

below is the poem that my friend the attorney-poet turned me onto years ago; i loved it then, when first she shared it, yet never really knew the depth of its wonder 'til now, as it's kind of how we feel, lack of slumber and magic intertwined, like a chagall painting:



For the Sleepwalkers

Tonight I want to say something wonderful
for the sleepwalkers who have so much faith
in their legs, so much faith in the invisible

arrow carved into the carpet, the worn path
that leads to the stairs instead of the window,
the gaping doorway instead of the seamless mirror.

I love the way that sleepwalkers are willing
to step out of their bodies into the night,
to raise their arms and welcome the darkness,

palming the blank spaces, touching everything.
Always they return home safely, like blind men
who know it is morning by feeling shadows.

And always they wake up as themselves again.
That's why I want to say something astonishing
like: Our hearts are leaving our bodies.

Our hearts are thirsty black handkerchiefs
flying throught he trees at night, soaking up
the darkest beams of moonlight, the music

of owls, the motion of wind-torn branches.
And now our hearts are thick black fists
flying back to the glove of our chests.

We have to learn to trust our hearts like that.
We have to learn the desperate faith of sleep-
walkers who rise our of their calm beds

and walk through the skin of another life.
We have to drink the stupefying cup of darkness
and wake up to ourselves, nourished and suprised.


--Edward Hirsch

Bilbo Baggins in My Bed.

Spirits remain high here, though I'm not healing as quickly or as well as hoped.

The infection hasn't cleared, I'm back to see the midwives shortly. Am guessing they'll do a culture and give me new more potent antibiotics.

My Beloved Mister says I've been remarkably happy and handling it well, though he's got the roughest shift w/ me when at night I spike a little fever, hallucinate some weird shit for a few minutes and then cry for another few minutes.

The wonderful biological imperative of new parenthood prevails and snaps me out every damn time and though I'm not sleeping much, my son thrives. He's remarkable, though not the Hobbit as I thought he was (no lie!) for a few minutes the other night.

Gratitude.

many many kind thanks to all who've expressed well wishes via email & phone. there's hardly been time to receive all messages, let alone respond.

our ziggy was born sunday september 25 after 25 plus hours of labor and subsequent to the necessitated C section delivery, a hospital stay and coming home, mama booty developed an infection in the surgical incision. resultantly, ms. booty has been put on total activity restriction, basically homebound but busy w/ a gorgeous and much adored newborn: nurse,diaper change, burp, snuggle, nurse, snuggle, burp, diaper change, snuggle, diaper change, burp, nurse. (this 8 pound 7 oz bundle of joy has us beyond smitten and took no time to become master of the nest. )

plus which, ms. booty can not bring herself to forsake her shower for even a day (too important to remaining fresh and at failsafe place) and insists on some kind of soft, comfy and pretty clothing for herself daily. that, and lipgloss. makes a booty more mamalicious.

never thought it'd be said, but this homemaker can notWAIT to return to chores! despite help from the wonderful grandmother and the beloved daddy booty, laundry piles up, the dog hair procreates in corners of its own and mama booty is chomping at the bit to resume daily walking out of doors.... that'll be awhile yet, though.

in the meantime, thank yous to those of you who know who you are. for the many kind favors, the suppers, the encouraging messages, the cards, letters, photographs and more.

bunches of love from the booty nest!