I was just going to leave a cute little title like Failing Forward with a photo of my almost failed Martha Stewart-ish domesticity attempt in the kitchen, in which I pumped that half beating heart back to life and made something edible. Something deliciously, decadently edible. So there will be more on that later.
Photo taken on the iPhone 4 with Instagram.
But then I put our littlest to bed and it all changed. I mean, IT ALL CHANGED. Tonight, instead of his evening routine of settling into that satisfied lull, that rhythm of suck-and-breathe, suck-and-breathe that reduces us both into a relaxed pile of mush, as if love were moving in perfect harmony with our little feeding ceremony... he didn't even look for a way to nurse. He cuddled in, close and comfy with his stuffed puppy nestled in tight under his chin. I waited. I rocked, and he fell asleep. I don't know the answers, or the future, if this is the simultaneous end of this stage of babyhood and the beginning of a new chapter in his life, or if he'll just wake, looking for me, earlier than his routine of a glorious 6AM ceremony that puts him back to sleep for a couple more hours. Whatever it is, it had me kissing his buttery soft forehead that peaks out from under a silky tuft of hair, just begging to be kissed. It had my eyes taking in every tiny little wrinkle and fold of his skin through the salty blur of tears and cramming them to memory. It had me inhaling the sweet scent of his head, and I just couldn't put him down. He's growing up. One thing is certain, the love will still be there, it will always be there, but the ceremony? That might be changing.