Every now and then I scrape the bahmim

Kitchen's a mess

I love to hear my son's pronunciation and listen to his ways of expression.

Bahmim - bottom. Mahnkeyah - monkey. Yohgoot - yogurt.

When he sees a picture of something silly - Old Mother Hubbard's shoe house crawling with children, for example - he expels a wild, high-pitched laugh.

Upon hearing something agreeable, he says, "Yeah" so earnestly.

When he agrees emphatically, he says, "MMM HMM!" I think he is imitating me.


I work just part-time, well, except for this new business we're starting, and mothering. And, trying to be a decent wife and companion. So, really, I work all the time. I'm exhausted. My chest is tight. My left shoulder aches. Carpal tunnel, acting up a bit. A wave of sadness hits me now and then. I'm tired.


When I leave for work, I tell my son, "I'm going to give you a hug and a kiss." He looks away as I hug him. "Can I have a hug and kiss?" He wraps his arms around my neck. He flattens his lips to his teeth and "kisses" me on the lips. He's become a "hugger on request" over the past several months.

Family would ask for kisses and hugs upon our comings and goings and visitings, and he did not oblige until recently. I think 1.) He did not know what was being asked of him, and 2.) He's never been a cuddly child. He likes to sit on my lap or my husband's during meals and storytime. He sometimes nestles next to one of us. Should I stroke his check or rub his back, and he will likely and assertively remove my hand.

When I come home from work, my son tackles me. He wants to nurse. It's 5:45 p.m. and he's tired. As a family, we have just 1 hour 15 minutes to eat dinner, bathe (maybe - bath time can cause a dreaded "second wind"), pick up toys (maybe - can be disheartening waste of time with a pooped 2 year old, so I prefer to skip that most nights), and read stories.

After story time with Papa, my son crawls into my lap and passes out in 5 to 15 minutes. That means we spent about 2 and a quarter hours together on this day.

One hour is in the morning - with some of that time spent making and eating breakfast, dressing, making beds, grooming, excreting, packing lunch, and searching for cell phone/keys/child's mittens/any missing object. Sometimes we get a story in. My husband is on task also, with us often weaving our efforts. I crack eggs into the pan, he flips them before they dry out. I fill up water bottles, he caps them. Then, one or both of us go to work.

After work, we toss our lunch boxes, bags, shoes, and coats near their resting places. We greet each other. We heat up dinner. Sit and eat. Chat about the day. Clear the table. Move to the living room for stories, pajamas, prepare the bed. Read. Snuggle. Sleep. One hour fifteen minutes.

Two and a quarter hours together on a work day. I'm so glad I work part-time. I'm tired.