There are so many little moments, it's hard to doodle just one.
They come flying through my line of sight like all the little light torpedoes in warp speed... the way that snow flurries past headlights onto a windshield through a nighttime mountainous highway. Trying to hold onto just one little moment long enough is a scramble. I feel like that person in the tube of fast air trying to catch all the money and shove it in pockets before the wind ride lottery is over. If I'm lucky, I can jot down ideas. Pens are everywhere. Paper hides. I very often have one half a hand free to do anything and my toes still aren't trained in script. I have to rely on my Mom memory which is running on two to three hours of sleep a night. I love so much. The way she looks at me and tries to understand. The way she turns into a little boob zombie, crashing her open-mouthed head into my clavicle over and over again when she wants to nurse. The way she sleeps with her mouth open like her Mom. The heat of her on my chest. Today's precious is brought to you by: laundry. Nugget is between diaper sizes right now. Well, she's between like five brands and two sizes of diapers. Her hips are newborn while her thighs are size one and that makes for a fair number of blowouts which makes for a fair amount of laundry. And I love it. I love it all. The way her little clothes wrap into mine in the dryer. Her little socks trapped in the tumbling magnitude of my nursing bras. The way all the pink and white off sets the black stretch fabric of postpartum fashion. The way she doesn't give a shit when she shits herself. I wish I had that kind of ease and confidence. Newborn unfuckwithable confidence. I love being a Mom. Someday soon here... I'm gonna get to type with TWO hands.
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AuthorMallory Kate is a blogger, artist, single mom and funny girl outta Nevada. |
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