Daffodils, jonquils, crocus and ditsies adorn the lawns and hillsides as higher up ornamental cherries, red buds, Bradford pears and feral strands of forsythia signal that the season has changed.
Here in Middle Tennessee, the last three days, after a gloriously radiant Saturday (so much so, in fact, that Mama Booty regretably and shamefully allowed Ziggy to get a bit sunburned!) have been cool and damp. Cool enough to require an extra sweater here about the flat and a bit too cool to allow Ziggy to go commando all the time. Er, "nakeybutt" in the parlance of the EC community. That'd be Elimination Communication, and we're moving further along that path, though by no means exclusively so. I "catch" a goodly number of poops & pees, though our consistency and ease will improve with both the arrival of warmer weather and that of the adorable Baby Bjorn Little Potty I've ordered up for Ziggy to have his very own.
In the meantime, we're still struggling with the dreaded and hellish teething. Is it really true that boys have a rougher time of it than the girls? Nursing and slinging and fresh air all seem to help somewhat, though none of us are sleeping all that very well here in the Big Booty Bed what with the night waking and crying, my Mister's backache, and Mama Booty's own intermittent early waking insomnia and fibromyalgic discomforts. The season's transition has a pull on our own nighttime ebb and flow of rest and restlessness.
Our waking hours remain full, even when we are not fully banked on sleep, and to that end, Ms. Booty Homemaker realizes that change must come.
A few weeks back, just prior to my thirty-ninth birthday, the Family Booty lay crumped up in the family bed one wee early morning, our boy slumbering peacefully. My Beloved Mister asked if I thought of myself as Middle Aged. "Absolutely not," I shot back, quite surprised. Almost indignant. When asked if I thought of him as Middle Aged, I conceded that in fact, I did.
Given some time for reflection and repose, the truth of the matter-- for the both of us Booty adults-- is that this lack of sleep and this breaking down of the physical body is tough going. And while my Spirit is still quite youthful, Ms. Booty Homemaker is no longer a Spring Chicken.
Cluck Cluck, Old Hen.
Ziggy's gestation, lengthy labor, difficult birth and the infection that followed, took its toll. That and my years long fluctuations of weight, smoking and poor self care has made me feel physically older than this Mama thinks she ought. Gratefully, my recent physical with a fab nurse practitioner finds me in very good health, simply worse for the wear and tear of being in a less than fully perfect human body.
Monday next, it's back to the gestational diet of sugar abstinence, whole grains rather than simple ones, and a more finely tuned consciousness with regard to wholistic care of Ms. Booty Homemaker and family. I do, afterall, wish to remain active and fully present for my dearest Ziggy, the best kind of gift that isn't a surprise. And I want to model healthful choices of thought, action and a way of being in the world that will help him with a life that fits his body to his Spirit.
Plus which, those Mothers Acting Up have gone and asked Ms. Booty to be in their 2007 calendar under the theme of Mother Leadership, which of course means that this Mama wants to represent in a way that rings true and strong. What an honor! Y'all can go buy this year's MAU calendar featuring some "regular" mamas like yours truly and some better known womenfolk as Mothers Beyond Borders from the very wonderful Barbara Kingsolver to Bonnie Raitt. As My Beloved Mister is always saying, "You wanna get better at what you do? You gotta play with people that're better than you."
And so it goes, my chickadees. In these middle years -- my Summer, as it were-- I'm striving to be that woman that I always dreamt I might could be.
Cluck, cluck, old hen.