Today I'm writing my weekly contribution over at GNMParents. Come on over and have a read!
DAG
Friday, January 30, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Happy Birthday Thing One
The birthday came and went on Monday with the usual fanfare.
You were excited to find all your presents and tear through the paper.
I was content to tear through the memories.
You, my darling, were my first. A little boy taking residence deep inside my soul. You kicked my ribs and gave me unbearable heartburn and scared the living crap out of me. You refused to get out on time but once labor began you were quick to make an exit. After only nine hours I had a bundle of blond hair and blue eyes, my very own little apple head and I fell hopelessly and eternally in love.
On Monday - you were eight. But I thought about your first smile, your stinky baby farts, the way you used to snuggle up on my chest and go to sleep for hours. I dared not move, but committed every sigh to my emotional memory bank. The sweet smell of damp curls and pablum still makes my eyes water.
I thought about the first time you held my hand, how you cried every day for eight months when you went to daycare - how no one could satisfy you but Mom. I thought about your intensity when you play with your little cars - lined up in traffic, run over by emergency vehicles - sounds, lights and traffic cones. I thought about how much you loved your little sister, even though you were only one year old when she came crashing into your life.
I thought about your sensitivities. How loving and emotional you are - and how much you are an opposite of your baby sister. That one word or gesture can wound you indefinitely, how important those that you love are to you. The way you clung to me for dear life when you went off to kindergarten. How you begged me not to leave you in the unfamiliar line for the first grade. How I walked you to your class and told you that you were brave and then watched you run off with your best friend. How I went to my car and sobbed and sobbed.
I thought about how even though you are independent and eight, with your own room and your own stuff, organized in your own way. How you like your socks just a certain way, or hate the colour green in a shirt. How your all "growed" up but when bed time comes - you want Mom to tuck you in just the same.
I love you my child. Happy birthday.
You were excited to find all your presents and tear through the paper.
I was content to tear through the memories.
You, my darling, were my first. A little boy taking residence deep inside my soul. You kicked my ribs and gave me unbearable heartburn and scared the living crap out of me. You refused to get out on time but once labor began you were quick to make an exit. After only nine hours I had a bundle of blond hair and blue eyes, my very own little apple head and I fell hopelessly and eternally in love.
On Monday - you were eight. But I thought about your first smile, your stinky baby farts, the way you used to snuggle up on my chest and go to sleep for hours. I dared not move, but committed every sigh to my emotional memory bank. The sweet smell of damp curls and pablum still makes my eyes water.
I thought about the first time you held my hand, how you cried every day for eight months when you went to daycare - how no one could satisfy you but Mom. I thought about your intensity when you play with your little cars - lined up in traffic, run over by emergency vehicles - sounds, lights and traffic cones. I thought about how much you loved your little sister, even though you were only one year old when she came crashing into your life.
I thought about your sensitivities. How loving and emotional you are - and how much you are an opposite of your baby sister. That one word or gesture can wound you indefinitely, how important those that you love are to you. The way you clung to me for dear life when you went off to kindergarten. How you begged me not to leave you in the unfamiliar line for the first grade. How I walked you to your class and told you that you were brave and then watched you run off with your best friend. How I went to my car and sobbed and sobbed.
I thought about how even though you are independent and eight, with your own room and your own stuff, organized in your own way. How you like your socks just a certain way, or hate the colour green in a shirt. How your all "growed" up but when bed time comes - you want Mom to tuck you in just the same.
I love you my child. Happy birthday.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Rzzzzzzz....
Me so tired!
I know, it's been awhile since I've written anything. Also, I seem to still be neglecting the design on this horrid looking blog. I'll get there, my pretty. I'm just swamped!
Can you believe that instead of taking a much needed nap this afternoon and working on my essay and seminar, I actually have to submit to a "tour" of the campus library? During class time?!? As if an english literature student in her fourth year doesn't know her way around?!?! Snore.
I guess it could be worse - I could be a student at York University, losing my tuition and my academic year due to a teacher strike. Heaven forbid. Five grand is a lot to pay to sit around and do nothing for seven months.
Anway - just a few things here and there. I'm still over here writing at GNMParents, a lovely weekly article that Megin offered to me. I'm still honored! Look for me on Friday mornings, and read around, there are some very lovely writers on those pages with relevant things to say (unlike me). I fantasize about being the Great Carrie Bradshaw and writing witty, funny and god-that-makes-me-think commentary about life love and relationships. But- academics you get. LOL.
Yesterday was Thing One's eighth birthday. A realization that left my womb aching and my heart sore. There must have been some time lost between then and now, I'm sure that eight years could not have gone by. Somewhere, I misplaced the moments between infancy and psuedo-adult. It was wonderful to celebrate with him, taking part in our traditional birthday festivities. Every year I create a scavenger/treasure hunt, and hide all his presents. He LOVES reading the silly riddles and searching for the presents. It's something they talk about all year.
This Friday, it is Thing Two's seventh birthday, and I think that will be the thing to really push me over the edge. Truly. My lovely little babies are growing up. And I think that I missed the whole thing! T. One's new thing is to pepper his speech with the word "apparently" and T. Two is really starting to gain her independence through her style of dress. Who knew that Leopard print skirts and black, pink and green argyle tights don't go together? Old mom of course!
Anyway, I'm tired, working hard and playing harder. At the moment I'm getting the stink eye from a professor - I'm supposed to be awe-ing over some baroque artwork and music. I feel the head bobs coming...
Rzz..
Rzzzzz....
I know, it's been awhile since I've written anything. Also, I seem to still be neglecting the design on this horrid looking blog. I'll get there, my pretty. I'm just swamped!
Can you believe that instead of taking a much needed nap this afternoon and working on my essay and seminar, I actually have to submit to a "tour" of the campus library? During class time?!? As if an english literature student in her fourth year doesn't know her way around?!?! Snore.
I guess it could be worse - I could be a student at York University, losing my tuition and my academic year due to a teacher strike. Heaven forbid. Five grand is a lot to pay to sit around and do nothing for seven months.
Anway - just a few things here and there. I'm still over here writing at GNMParents, a lovely weekly article that Megin offered to me. I'm still honored! Look for me on Friday mornings, and read around, there are some very lovely writers on those pages with relevant things to say (unlike me). I fantasize about being the Great Carrie Bradshaw and writing witty, funny and god-that-makes-me-think commentary about life love and relationships. But- academics you get. LOL.
Yesterday was Thing One's eighth birthday. A realization that left my womb aching and my heart sore. There must have been some time lost between then and now, I'm sure that eight years could not have gone by. Somewhere, I misplaced the moments between infancy and psuedo-adult. It was wonderful to celebrate with him, taking part in our traditional birthday festivities. Every year I create a scavenger/treasure hunt, and hide all his presents. He LOVES reading the silly riddles and searching for the presents. It's something they talk about all year.
This Friday, it is Thing Two's seventh birthday, and I think that will be the thing to really push me over the edge. Truly. My lovely little babies are growing up. And I think that I missed the whole thing! T. One's new thing is to pepper his speech with the word "apparently" and T. Two is really starting to gain her independence through her style of dress. Who knew that Leopard print skirts and black, pink and green argyle tights don't go together? Old mom of course!
Anyway, I'm tired, working hard and playing harder. At the moment I'm getting the stink eye from a professor - I'm supposed to be awe-ing over some baroque artwork and music. I feel the head bobs coming...
Rzz..
Rzzzzz....
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
I Need An Academic Stunt Double
I really do.
Honest.
I'm entering my last term in my BA with honors. Come April, I will be able to wash my hands of English Literature - at least in the academic sense. Except from now until then? I'll be the walking dead.
Usually, the last term is loaded in March. With reading week in the middle of it, us students are the ones you see scurrying about, books laden with arms, papers shoved between our teeth. That's us, sleep deprived, hungry and unwashed. Because? Papers are due. This term, the professors have played an ugly UGLY trick on me.
Each professor (in three of my four classes), had the bright idea of minimizing the March craze by front loading February. Yeah. So two weeks from now - I'm staring down the barrel of four essays, two midterms and a seminar presentation. I'm pretty sure that in about one week, I'll be mumbling incoherent sentences on twitter, neglecting my blog and yours, living in that old student standby: the hoodie. I will not eat three meals a day, I will not have fresh smelling hair and more than likely, someone should pry my drivers licence from my decrepit claw-like typing hands before I kill someone.
I need an academic stunt double. On the double.
DAG
Honest.
I'm entering my last term in my BA with honors. Come April, I will be able to wash my hands of English Literature - at least in the academic sense. Except from now until then? I'll be the walking dead.
Usually, the last term is loaded in March. With reading week in the middle of it, us students are the ones you see scurrying about, books laden with arms, papers shoved between our teeth. That's us, sleep deprived, hungry and unwashed. Because? Papers are due. This term, the professors have played an ugly UGLY trick on me.
Each professor (in three of my four classes), had the bright idea of minimizing the March craze by front loading February. Yeah. So two weeks from now - I'm staring down the barrel of four essays, two midterms and a seminar presentation. I'm pretty sure that in about one week, I'll be mumbling incoherent sentences on twitter, neglecting my blog and yours, living in that old student standby: the hoodie. I will not eat three meals a day, I will not have fresh smelling hair and more than likely, someone should pry my drivers licence from my decrepit claw-like typing hands before I kill someone.
I need an academic stunt double. On the double.
DAG
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Resolute!
Hello all.. and welcome back to the original blogger site.
Please - excuse the look of things around here. I've just reopened it and it needs A LOT of design tweaking! I'm working on making it look much nicer and more like home.
As many of you know - I have resigned my old blog (doubleagentgirl.com) for reasons unknown. I don't wish to kick sand in the sandbox, and so I prefer to walk away from a bad situation with feelings hurt but dignity intact. This is where I'll do the majority of my writing from now on.
As for my photography, I will continue to post here, most likely once a week, some new things I'm working on. I have set up photoblog here where my submissions appear as a whole. I hope to continue sharing my experience on this strange and wonderful sphere - and I hope you continue to read and enjoy those experiences.
I also contribute to GNMParents regularly, and am honored to accept a new offer of a weekly column. Also, I continue to write my introspective and dark meanderings of the inner agent here. I hope you will enjoy them.
I look forward to reading your comments and blogs once more - a new year is upon us. Here's to forging real friendships and appreciating those you have!
Cheers!
DAG
Please - excuse the look of things around here. I've just reopened it and it needs A LOT of design tweaking! I'm working on making it look much nicer and more like home.
As many of you know - I have resigned my old blog (doubleagentgirl.com) for reasons unknown. I don't wish to kick sand in the sandbox, and so I prefer to walk away from a bad situation with feelings hurt but dignity intact. This is where I'll do the majority of my writing from now on.
As for my photography, I will continue to post here, most likely once a week, some new things I'm working on. I have set up photoblog here where my submissions appear as a whole. I hope to continue sharing my experience on this strange and wonderful sphere - and I hope you continue to read and enjoy those experiences.
I also contribute to GNMParents regularly, and am honored to accept a new offer of a weekly column. Also, I continue to write my introspective and dark meanderings of the inner agent here. I hope you will enjoy them.
I look forward to reading your comments and blogs once more - a new year is upon us. Here's to forging real friendships and appreciating those you have!
Cheers!
DAG
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)