a new day

A new day has officially arrived in our home. This new day is vivid and colorful and vibrant. Ever-changing. Busy. Sometimes very loud. Sometimes blissfully quiet and dark. Like the middle of the night. When my little boy wakes and I click on the head lamp as not to wake up exhausted husband. The bright light shines on his little eyes, each flicker bringing a new eyelash to surface, a new angle of his cheek that I hadn't yet noticed. I heave my heavy breasts and check which one seems more ready for him. He finds his way like a little champion, reminding me how only a few days ago, we were just one person. He makes his happy little sounds, settles his body into mine. I smile and wince at the same time. So happy to feed him, to sustain him. So shocked each time at how much nursing hurts in the beginning. When he's done we lay there, his little head on my chest and as tired as I am, I don't ever want to move, don't ever want to try to get comfortable because him on me like that is better than any amount of sleep, any known comfort.

And there are other moments. When Eliana needs so much from both of us, states plainly, "I don't want to share my parents." When the same everyday issues about the potty and TV seem so enormous, so annoying because why can't she just willingly sit on the potty when she wakes from her nap? Why does it have to be such a battle? What is the big deal?

Yesterday had it's share of moments, both beautiful and dissonant, but ultimately found the four of sitting at Rattlesnake Gardens, each of us with his or her own treat (beer for dad, oatmeal chocolate chip cookie for mom, push up for Elie and boob for Solomon, respectively), my eight o'clock at night attempt to finally leave the house. We are a new unit. A new unit trying to find their way in the world, re-navigate our little universe.