7/21: Blues Fading

fading blues - those are the colors in solas' eyes now. he was born with midnight baby blues, and their coloring is changing to something more like the streams of water that cascade off of icebergs into the sea. the electric sunburst lightning storm around his iris is becoming more pronounced. and you can see his consciousness peering out through his eyes. that's fairly new. for a long time he didn't really bother with what was going on in front of him. he was more preoccupied with the neverending parade of angels and fairies that circle the heads of those new to this world, who sing them into this life, who ease them out of the formlessness communion we all come from. his eyes now focus, take you in, follow you around the room.

and right now i just can't get the things to close.

we're laying in bed. it's 1am and he's not tired. not enough to sleep, anyway.

i'm told that children right around his age begin to value socializing more than sleep. and so that's why he's less likely, starting about a month ago, to follow the following (seemingly) simple procedure:

step 1: feel tired
step 2: see if it's safe to go to sleep
step 3: are you sure?
step 4: go to sleep

doesn't that seem straightforward? it feels so crazy frustrating that i have to spend a lot of time talking everyone's ear off when they come to hang out.

"isn't it crazy? you know? just 'go to sleep, little man.' "
"i mean i'd Love to sleep. who doesn't like to sleep?"
"him! that's who! he doesn't like it! i just don't get it. why would he stay up when he's tired?"
"why just cry when you're sleepy?"
"...well. well, yeah sure, but sometimes i know i need to sleep but instead i go online and binge watch 'game of thrones' until my roomate comes home. that's kinda the same thing."

and here we are on the bed at 2am: he my wayward alarm clock, me his netflix.

waiting for milk to heat up, wondering who we'll be when we grow up. he used to need to nestle in my arm to sleep. then it became possible for him to sleep without my arm surrendering to pins and needles below his head. i was so relieved. but then it became imperative for him to sleep that way. and now i have empty nest syndrome. it just seems like yesterday that he was a little baby. but now he's moved on. not into the same old stuff anymore.

in the last few days he's started to hunt his thumb. he'll hold his arm out full length, like a painter getting a perspective for a tree in her landscape, and squint at it for awhile. and then you can see him think: "i think my thumb's in there." and then: "this is Totally what my elbow's for." then his elbow will slowly bend - "this is awesome!" - until the hand lands on his forehead - "success!" - where it will rest until he remembers that he was trying to distract himself.

then the whole clenched hand, complete with thumb wrapped in the fingers and totally inaccessible, goes in the mouth.

(sorta) success!

by now i've given up on the bed and i'm walking around in the 3am grayscape with him in my arms, a hostage holding his captor to his chest, totally madly in love.

he's like a machine that takes in breast milk and exudes joy. & i know he's a super easy kid, all things considered. all we have to do is meet every need or desire he has before he has a chance to notice it.

...he's like having the worst boss of all time, if i'm being honest.

boss: come here! i'm very upset!
you: <come dashing in, because you're dashing> heya! what can i do?
boss: very upset!
you: okay! okay, how about i pick you up and rock you?
boss: bad things are happening!
you: right, boss. let me just see if you've pooped yourself.
boss: you're not doing it right!
you: how about a pacifier?
boss: oh that's great
<suck suck suck>
<pop, the pacifier falls out, and...>
boss: worst! this is the worst! this is waaaay worse...
you: okay well here's a bottle
boss: it totally doesn't count unless it's in my mouth
you: it's warming up!
boss: waaaaaaaaaaHHH. AH-WOO! AH-WOO! ah-woo! ah-woo!
<bottle goes into the mouth>
boss: oh this is the stuff! that's what i like, this right here. this is the Best! and you're the best!
you: ...you're gonna take care of me when i'm old, right boss?

actually. 50% of the time it's having the worst boss. and 50% of the time it's *being* the worst boss.

being a first time parent, the list of unanswered questions continues to grow...from "what can he possibly want now?" to "how long is too long to let him contentedly play by himself?" but the main one that comes up, over and over, is "where do i turn myself in?"

as in:

he's got a tummyache from some of the breastmilk. i didn't catch it beforehand! where do i turn myself in?

...or i was holding him and he slipped and hit his head on the arm of this chair! where do i turn myself in?

...or i had to get diapers and on the way home i parked the car a block from my house for 10 extra minutes of listening to an interview on NPR. that's not allowed, is it?

...or he fell asleep and i thought "finally!" that's not great, right?

and then i fell asleep too.

blissful sleep in the comraderly stupor of the utterly worn-out. like prizefighters slumbering in a clinch.

and then morning stirs us awake - sunlight and birdcalls in a quiet summer beachhouse. i hear the gentle murmur of his consciousness returning. i see the day streaming through the blinds and i search for a spark in my spirit through the veil of exhaustion in my bones and the dread knowledge that i'm ready for a nap first thing in the morning.

...and then i catch his eye. and he smiles, his eyes crinkling with delight to be reunited with the day, with the dawn, with his daddy. and his joy pours into me, kindles my fire, twinkles my eyes. and i can feel my blues fading.

may rebecca's body be clear of tumors
we give thanks for the restoration of her eyesight
we give thanks for the continued health of baby solas

in the name of jesus
in the arms of mary
under the mantle of brigid

in faith...