just another night

Street quiet.
Night. Nothing stirs.
Listening...
Dog collar jingles.
Baby rests peacefully
at my side.

I'm restless.
I'm sleepy.
I'm waiting,
for either to claim me.

Dog scratches.
Outside,
Sprinkler bubbles,
Sprinkler sprays.

Restless? Sleepy?
But it's the
vanilla ice cream
that wins.
-with peanuts, bananas and chocolate sauce.

Soon

A belly sways.
Bouyant.
Round.
Then suddenly,
asymmetrical.

You don't have a calendar.
You don't know that you're late.
I'm ok with that.
I'm happy and content,
as long as you're healthy.

I laugh a lot,
smile often.
Enjoying these last moments
of the miracle that is felt
only by women who carry a child.
In this moment,
only by this mother, carrying you.

I'll see you this weekend, at the latest.

I love you little one.

waiting...

You don't seem very comfortable these days.
You spend a lot of time swinging your limbs and bottom in a frustrating motion.
It can't be all too comfortable.
It doesn't look comfortable from my point of view.
I have an idea....
Come out.

It won't be the easiest day for either one of us.
But, to your advantage, you won't remember.

I am ready to meet you,
to let the world greet you.
Wrapped up in my arms,
you will know how much I love you.

Your Daddy is here, your sister is here.
Even your dog is here.
We can't wait, little one.
Come out and let us adore you.

three

You roll
and you wiggle
You press
and you stretch
It's magic
and it's wonder
Leaves me feeling
quite blessed.

A quiet Sunday morning
she finds the sunny spot on the floor
to warm up after the bath tub
and she speaks of the day before.


time smiles.
time laughs.
time reveals the
unknown
as minutes slowly pass.
most days you are
fortunate.
your guesses, turn out right.
But I get that sinking feeling,
sometimes late at night.

What is going on around here?

If the scare with my husband wasn't enough,
I survived another massive adrenaline jolt
about a week later.


March 8, 2010
Uncle Joey was due to arrive in an hour or so,
so the man of the house ran out for beer and groceries.

Bug and I were sitting at the kitchen table doing who knows what.
Was it play-dough, markers, or stamps?
It doesn't matter now, but it's amazing how quickly
some things become insignificant.

Our sweet yellow lab was vegging out on the living room floor.
Asleep or awake, I don't know. All was quiet.

Dog was up like a shot.
So fast, she bolted across the room.
It was as if some force threw her.
Her front legs not keeping up with the back.
She crashes snout first into the corner
between the fish tank and wall.
A two inch gap, at the most.

Her legs digging into the carpet with a frenzy,
her head driven over and over into that small corner in the wall.
I fly off my chair.
Bug screams.

For a moment I hope (mouse).

The closer I get the more I realize.
She's out of her mind.
She's convulsing,
still throwing herself.
Paws, claws, digging furiously.
Head still being rammed over and over at the wall.
She's still running herself into that small, small space.

I pull her back and she's gone again.
Into a child's tent wall, into the couch.
Legs moving in a frenzied uncontrolled run.

Bug screams. Bug cries.
"My dog! My dog! My dog!"

Our dog's eyes, they're bulging.
The awareness is gone.
Her mouth, panting.
Her voice, a deep gutteral whine.
Still out of control.
Across the room again, she throws her body against another couch.
Will this stop?
Legs stiff, legs shaking, legs don't let her lie down.

I pull her to the floor, but I can't hold her down.
She flies backwards into the plants, the wall, the couch.
There's no anger in her face.
I see fear, or maybe it is a reflection of mine.

Minutes are passing.
Bug is still screaming.

Her strength is waning while I corner her.
Her heart is racing.
I hold her face in my hands,
barely inches away.
"I love you, I love you, I'm right here and I love you.
You're ok, you're ok, come back, I love you."
Over and over.
I can't think of anything else to say.
These tears, I'm fighting.
She seems almost possessed.
Still whining and restless.
Blood near her eye, near her nose.

I grab two phones.
Call the neighbors, the husband.
I have talked Bug up, onto the couch.
Bug is still crying, sobbing.
I try to reassure her while I'm not sure.
My voice is shaking.
My heart is racing.

Husband rushes in.
Drops down by my side.
Dog is coming around,
her heart still racing, her body still shaking.
with such a scared look in her eyes.
Neighbors burst in. They love her too.
I'm holding the tears, at least trying hard to.

I thought I was losing her.
We don't know what it was.
The vet's are lost too.
Could have been a seizure,
but they don't have a clue.

In a fraction of a second

To write it down,
or forget the details.
This is between you and me.
Let's keep it that way.

February 27, 2010.
A Saturday evening at the kitchen table.
Dinner on our plates.
The three of us say our prayer.
We take a few bites.
A few laughs, light moments to share.
Bug needs to go potty.
"I don't need any help."
Off she runs, to get the job done.
I sit across from him, wondering what to say.
We're not feeling as romantic as we used to, these days.
He lifts his glass, full of ice cold beer-
and he says to me, "Cheers".
My wine glass full of soda
meets his glass with a clink.
I tip back the glass, take a drank.
Before I can bring the glass back down,
A splash of beer to my face, beer all around.
Up I look, in time to see my husbands face drop
to the table, to the plate, with such a loud crack.
My heart jumps from my chest, leaps out of my throat.

Leaping from my chair, pulling him up,
holding his chin in my palm, the other hand tapping his chest,
yelling his name.
(My heart is pleading, come back!)
In such a small moment, how life, it can change.

He slowly comes back, shakey but there.
Life back in his eyes, more than
a blank stare.
He wants towels to clean up.
There's a bruise on his head.
For a fraction of a moment,
well we just can't go there.
What would we have done?
I'd have fallen apart.
Such a startling scare,
nearly broke my heart.

Nothing like this
ever happened before.
He said "no big deal",
and told me to relax.
I thought I would collapse!

Around the corner,
comes Bug with her smile.
I'm still petrified, had to walk
away for awhile.

What took her away at just the right time?
We cleaned up the mess.
I broke down and I cryed.

huh?

I love the "What did you say?" moments
with a two (almost three) year-old.
Yesterday, I was in the backyard cleaning a vile area of snow, dog urine/poop.
Bug is standing in the back door managing my work.
(She has excellent pronunciation skills, so we rarely misunderstand her.)
She yells to me: "MOM! ARE YOU SUCKLING THE POOP?"
Now, obviously one would think I didn't hear her correctly.
So I ask.
She happily obliges me by asking her question again.
"ARE YOU SUCKLING THAT DOG POOP?"
I'm intrigued, grossed out, and wondering why she thinks people suckle poop.
After the third time that she repeats herself at my request, the lightbulb goes on.
She is pronouncing correctly, she's just used the wrong word.
"No Bug, I'm not suckling dog poop, I'm SHOVELING it!"

This morning I get an unrelated statement from her, repeated again and again on my behalf.
"Mom, When the airplane goes bounce, bounce, bounce up in the sky, it doesn't crap out everywhere. Did you know that?"
...........I'm still flummoxed.