Deep dive

Week 40

Writing weekly sometimes daily or hourly haiku’s has been and is my expression at the moment, it is the best way to work through, shout, laugh or cry those intense feelings or just observations

I’m so happy to have them and this is a space where I let myself delve into one a little deeper, remembering where I was at, process a little more

~

it’s around December time, gosh looking back at the photos we are in the thick of weaning, you are discovering more and realising I think that you are of this world, touching, crawling, leading yourself around the furniture, it scares me that you take up more space, how do you keep growing into spaces. Looking back you are so little, and since December last year I feel you have changed so much, but of course you have. I'll hold my own hand am I referring to you or me? So do I need to hold my hand or were you holding your own? I feel as though I may have found my own hand and needed the support, the comfort of me telling me you are doing well, it's dark and it's winter, this weaning stuff is demanding I want to make it all, do it all but I cannot do anything, it feels.

Fast forward to just turning 17 months old last week, things feel like they're clicking into place, we eat the same meals (sometimes), you are communicating to me in your own way of bits of words, pointing and blubbering, we seem to make sense. But now it dawns on me you aren't a baby anymore, and what? this year only has 4 months left of it and next year you'll be two. Two years of my life, of your life, of ours lives have passed us by living each second making it feel like a mountain, but looking back it looks like a tiny hump like how a tree root pushes up under concrete.

Overwhelmed by the process is an understatement, am I teaching you to eat? New parents around me thrown into the forest, find your feet, see in the dark, pick up the baby, semi seasoned ones working through weaning, embrace the mess, play is good, are you teething? Whilst we relish in the second night of sleeping through, was it you ears or your teeth or have we just been keeping you up too late making you over tired? You would think as humans we'd be more comfortable with uncertainty or is it that we have built a false facade, beauty is in the spontaneity, the unknown, man if I can't handle it just try imagine how he feels, it's all something to ponder to explore and uncover and you are his guide, his hand to follow, so jump in with him, let go but also I do need to make sure you go to bed earlier tonight because you woke up at 5 (which by the way made absolutely no positive effect on the sleep, until this lad can tell me what’s going on I may as well just try not to overthink, sleeping with him is some kind of magic though like he’s back inside and we are one again, what a bonus)

Being new to this place, new in this home, it's been a learning curve to feel comfortable everywhere, luckily it felt like home this house as soon as we got the keys, I did feel that feeling that people say, and with the beach a walk away how could you need anything more. But sometimes and still now, when you can't get on top of the house, the jobs, the fixes, the finishes all mounting up, the bowls of purred broccoli, mashed banana pancakes, thrown yoghurt and yes I'm stood at the sink again washing everything I just think wow this is hard work, I feel like my head is just above water legs flailing, so tired, always on. But I'm so lucky to call this home, and have a house feeling like home the morning sun blazing through bay windows, the warm kitchen light in the calmness of clear worktops, dusky hues bouncing off bumpy wallpapered walls that I’ve now become quite fond of.

Feeling like this poem has darted all over, but I think that’s the beauty of these little reminders of a time, my thoughts probably did go from remembering who’s hand held who’s, how overwhelming it is to teach a life and learn that you’re not sure if you’re good at it and ah, wow doesn’t it feel amazing to live where we are, nights drawn in cosy feel, a family in a house, my family in my house.

This was week 40, I’m still writing daily, not so often are they hourly haikus & now I’m around week 75 ~ I wonder when I’ll stop writing in weeks or counting his age in months now I think about it? I’m fairly certain I have miss counted a week or two but I’m stoked I’ve kept this up, sometimes lately I do feel like nah I don’t need to write any which in many ways makes me feel like I’ve come out of the thicket, but I remind myself I do.

Who knows what I will do with this long, lengthy stream of consciousness but I love I have it here, our little existence made in tune to a rhythm of syllables.