Second Childhood

I am truly excited about summer vacation like no other kid in class! I'm going to go to soccer camp, take swim lessons in my new Hello Kitty and Buzz lightyear swim suits, play at the park until I can't walk, fall asleep during story time at the library, stain my summer wardrobe with ice cream cones, go to the beach to celebrate my birthday (I'm getting a Toy Story cake with Buzz Lightyear! I hope I get a truck!), and learn to ride my bike and tricycle in the back yard. I'll do my share of backyard hide-and-seek, too.

Next week I'm going to the zoo with my kindergarten class. Yesterday I went on my 2nd grade field trip to the plastic factory. Last week I had to go to the doctor for my swollen glands. I fell down and scraped a knee, an elbow, and I bumped my head on the corner of the dining room table a few times. Lucky I have a Thomas Train ice pack handy and lots of Toy Story bandaids.

I look gorgeous when I dress myself up: glitter nail polish, giant orange sunglasses, a frilly skirt, and a blouse on backwards. I also look adorable in my denim overalls, and am tickled to death that my size 7 toddler sandals light up when I walk! Sometimes I sit on the floor and hit the bottom of my shoes just to watch the lights flash.

All at the same time I love to be read to and point to pictures, learning colors and shapes and animals as I go along - I'm also learning to read - AND I'm reading several grades ahead of my age and LOVE chapter books about animals. Each new discovery is SO amazing!

I love trucks! Although phones and the remote control are a close second, just about anything electronic or mechanical is pretty high on my list of interests as well. I love my fleece pj's with feet. They make me feel warm and cozy after an evening bath with my rubber duck and squirty whale.

I love my Daddy. He's definitely my favorite person in the world.

The first time that I was a young child, I loved my dolls and girlie games. I had a lot of fun with my brother and friends, went swimming and to the park and read and did crafts and watched Disney.

That was nice and all, but this time around is soooo much better - living it with my eyes and through yours at the same time.

I hope that we'll actually like being teenagers this time around.... :)

I start writing about one thing and it always ends up being about Sam...

I recall a day at the pediatrian's office with my cherub of a baby boy, many months ago. Sam was nowhere near cutting any teeth but, as is still his tendency, was drooling like salivating St. Bernard as he sat on my lap in the waiting room with other parents and children, smiling with his adorable dimples at who knows what, and content just to be cuddled while watching other children play.

On this particular day a woman came into the office and checked her young teenaged son in at the window and sat down. The boy followed his mother into the waiting room with his head down and a miserable trudge, and sat 2 chairs away from her. He turned his head away from her to reveal that the back half of his scruffy black hair-do was dyed pink. Pink stripes. I also noticed that he donned silver-spiked cuffs around his wrist and simply lovely black nail polish. Now, I learned long ago from my leather-obsessed, knife carrying, biker-babe lab partner in college to never judge a book by it's cover. She loved Alice Cooper but was the legal guardian of her younger siblings and mommied them like Donna Reed every night before tucking them into bed and doing our assignments with me over cookies and milk.

So, instead of raising my eyebrow too high, I looked at this teenage boy's mother, who I thought to blame for raising the lack of respect and hygiene before me.

She was already looking at me. Actually, she was gazing at me with Sam, with a combination of sadness, longing, and a bittersweet half-smile.

He, who can't bring himself to sit next to his mother, was once a beautiful baby boy, drooling and cooing on his mommy's lap. She once carried him, held him, fed him, loved him, and somewhere between that time and puberty something happened to their relationship, or maybe it was just a bad day, I'm not entirely sure - but the bottom line is, I held Sam a little bit closer. And I haven't forgotten since.

Sam is growing in every way. He's been wearing the same diaper size forever - but other than that...

Lately he's been testing me. I'm pretty sure. And I get flashbacks to the day I saw the young man who I hope he doesn't become when I scold him for pulling out the power-pack from the wall for the 11th time and Sam's response is to shake his finger back at me and say, "No no no no!" and then laughs hysterically at the game he thinks that I'm playing when I reprimand him for his own safety. I admit, I often have to turn my head in an effort to keep him from seeing me stifle my own laughter. But sometimes when I'm at the brink of yelling, he'll laugh even harder. I wonder if he just trusts me enough to never think I'd hurt him in any way - or if he just thinks that seeing my face turn red with frustration is hilarious enough to provoke it to happen.

He listens to verbal warnings and direction often, but not enough to resist temptation of dumping over tubs of freshly folded laundry. This, also, is very funny to him - as is emptying out the cupboards, throwing his sippy cup to the floor (EVERY meal!), peeing in the tub, feeding his food to the dogs, climbing the dining room table, preventing me from vacuuming by stealing it for himself to play with, riding or otherwise prodding poor Louie the Beagle, and especially wapping the keyboard to this netbook with an unforseen force. I'll be in the middle of writing an important message and Sam will zip to my side, watching me type, innocently, while I eyeball him warily - he'll then trick me by pretending to be more interested in something else nearby, I'll let my guard down and become immersed in my writing, and then suddenly WHAP! his little hand slams down on the keyboard and off goes that important message that's now cut-off midway and ends with something like: fdfjbhjbpo;'[;! I get so verbally irate over it that I talk outloud despite knowing he probably doesn't understand words like "unnecessary" and "expensive" and "embaressing for Mommy". That, for some reason, brings Sam to a roaring cackle.

I feel like the mother in Love You Forever, as I currently live in a zoo. But late at night, after Wade has rocked him to sleep and puts him in his little toddler bed, I tip-toe in, and I rub his hair away from his forehead, and stare at his beautiful, angelic, sleeping face - his arms still raised above his head, one arm on each side, sleeping soundly on his Toy Story pillow case warm under blankets that I made. I fall in love with him almost every day as if he was just born. How long does that last? Will I one day tiptoe into his mess of a room and stare at his acne-ridden face that refuses to use the blanket I made him with as much adoration? I can't imagine not loving him beyond words, not matter how old he gets. I guess that's something that ties many women together. Wether we are cuddling our infants or enduring the "don't touch me" phase or take their phone calls from miles away to hear the voices of children and grandchildren, I honestly don't think that the love disappears. They'll always be my babies.

Some pics of the kids i've managed to snap, despite a plague upon our house...

Sam no longer has a bedroom separate from a play room. I combined the 2 and he has a happy, colorful place to play and sleep!

I threw together an easy green feast on st. patrick's - I was killing time at the store while waiting for a prescription and discovered that the decor was marked down 50% on the day of the holiday so I decided, why not! I'm sure we've got Irish in our blood somewhere, mutts that we are...

Ugly, ugly yard - but with the sun out we couldn't resist playing outdoors like it's summer!

My sweet boy...here he is hugging his doggy. He is really very sweet and affectionate - he often stops what he's doing to run over to us for a hug and kiss - joy of my life!!!

where's my tylenol? Gimme that candy bar!

I'm always more gutsy in writing than face to face. And here on this public blog I still can't vent as openly as I'd like because, well, I'm sure it will bite me somewhere someday somehow. So I'll try and be general about things.

First, my status. If I were to be honest on facebook at this moment it would say something like "sitting half clothed on couch at midnight in front of niece's nickelodeon mini-laptop, coughing harder than a dying smoker and trying hard not to pee on the couch as I do so...". I have had a sinus infection since last week - the next day woke up with pink eye, the next day woke up with another pink eye, the next day vomited phlegm so frocefully I busted a massive eye vessel (and now look worse than any Tim Curry character in history, including his portrayal of Darkness in Legend), the next day realized that both ears are very infected. Each time I've braved a public appearnace to collect a new medicine for myself I usually scare at least one person (the cashier, mostly), and can't blame them for not wanting to touch my credit card.

At least my dog didn't die.

But at one point I recall asking the toilet if I had somehow offended the Powers that be, or if I am this week's comic relief for them, or if my immune system has finally taken a complete nose-dive after taking care of a very, very sick baby, and having 2 sick little girls around, for the past 2 months.

Let me summarize the month of February in my house with a visual: 12 large empty boxes of Puffs plus, a dozen or so bottles of amoxicillin, 4 bottles of motrin, a vaporizer, 2 containers of vaporub, daily loads of smelly laundry, 30 half gallons of orange juice, a 6 pack of ginger ale, a box of saltines, prescription eye drops, 1 cold pack, 1 hot pad, and a few toys purchased out of sympathy for a sick little one.

Everyone got super sick but me. Samuel had a very long cold that turned to pneumonia - the kind that didn't require an overnight stay at the hospital but made him lose 4 pounds, refuse to eat or drink, struggle to breathe, maintain a high fever, and give me a near coronary at every turn. I never want to relive those couple of weeks ever again! I prayed constantly and bargained quite often to let me take the sickness instead. I didn't mean for me to get sick in addition to Sam being sick - but - oh, that's the hilarity of my life. The day I got on the phone with my mom and said "Yes! Sam is pretty much back to normal!", my glands instantly swelled up and I could barely talk or leave the blanket that I shivered under while my face lit itself on fire at the same time.

So, as I wait for a second round of antibiotics to kick in and take my ear pain away, I have to admit I take a little happiness out of not hearing anything - the nieghbor's loud car stereo, the stupid cat meowing at night, Taylor (in general) who follows me around constantly (although I did feel bad for her when she ran from the room gagging at the sight of my red eye). I spent most of the weekend saying to my husband "What? What?". He has been a phenomenal baby and home caretaker during my sickness. Tonight he asked again if he needs to put water in the can of spaghettios. I couldn't help but make fun of him because this is the 2nd time he's asked that. He's made his specialty for me every day - eggs and toast, scrambled eggs and toast, and eggs and toast with peanutbutter. And he even got up inthe middle of the night with me when I was so incredibly hungry and asked for something. He brought me some toast!

Sam continues to grow and develop and bring us lots of joy. I managed to purchase some staple Easter items for his basket this year (since every other year I go for the kids I end up in a shoving contest with some hossy woman wanting the last bag of peanutbutter eggs - I won, once), but i justified making frequent trips to the hiding-closet this past week (after all - I've been living on eggs ands toast!) and ate the whole bag already. So, the week before Easter I'll be in that zoo of a candy aisle again, shoving my weight around with other riff-raff such as myself to get something at the last minute,

I am very excited that Easter will fall on General Conference this year so that my family can be home together where we feel the most peace and spirit. Home really is where we learn the gospel, where the kids learn, where we learn and sing lots of songs and are blessed with music both live and recorded, where we play, where we rest, where we eat - I've always been a home body - but have lately appreciated much more the sanctuary of the walls where we reside as family. More and more I am troubled by the places where the children go regularly for learning or upliftment - there's too much drama and too often the adults in their lives are focused more on their on agenda rather than what the children need - and I am grateful that there's always at least one place they can go where they are the center of attention, are loved unconditionally, are nurtured with their talents and growth, and can be comfortable. Yup, Dorothy was right, there's no place like home!

the living cliche

Yes, it’s me. I’ve got everything going on for the stay-at-home mom stereo-type except for the bon-bons that are supposed to be stashed in the closet for after bed-time. I can’t afford bon-bons, or I may actually have some. Not every day is like this, just every other or so. I sit here, in my pj’s, hair in unbrushed pony tail, adorable, drooling toddler at my feet, pulling around some borderline-safe objects that I let him have (just my phone and a wrapped granola bar, nothing lethal, Mom) so I can have a few minutes to type, undoubtedly with many typos.

I sang the Wonderpets theme song in a lullaby voice for 20 minutes straight at about 3 this morning. Then the stupid cat walked by the dogs who woke up to bark like mad as soon as Sam was back in his crib and I lay my head down . And so I nearly kicked 3 animals out the door around 4 this morning because of that stunt, but I still got up and at it this morning, forgetting to look for cars or neighbors as I saw the girls outside to watch them go to the corner in my pj’s, shamefully exposed. I came back inside and ate Sam’s leftover cheerios off of his tray for breakfast – he actually fed me a few, which is always fun, especially because he is our drool monster who is covered in what we coin as Sam-juice – and that usually accompanies whatever piece of food he sticks in your mouth.

I’ll spend the rest of the school day playing, loving, and feeding him. When the girls get home we’ll have homemade cookies for snack, do homework, prepare dinner, eat dinner (everyone but me) have baths (everyone but me), get ready for tomorrow, and go to bed for a good night’s rest under blankets that I crochet for everyone in their favorite color (everyone but me).
It’s been some time since I posted a blog. Mostly apathy, but also an overall I’m-just-too-busy-to-think-of-something-to-write lifestyle.

Christmas was awesome. Probably the best I’ve ever had, and I didn’t get much of anything – unless you count the priceless joy we felt in the morning to be together, to have nice things for Samuel, and at last have our own child ripping presents under our tree by the stairs. I love our old, crooked, drafty house. I knew it was ours before we even entered it. I loved the big bay window in the front of the house, and walked in to see the open stairway that, at the time, made me look at Wade and say, “Oh! Christmas stairs! Look, Honey, someday we’ll watch our children come down those stairs on Christmas morning”. That was about 5 year ago, and we never expected the wait that we had for a child to come, but then again, we also got to that point when we were okay not having any, and were making plans for a Hawaiin cruise for our anniversary. The cruise was replaced with crib and baby accessories – and, naturally, we think we ended up with the jackpot of all anniversary gifts. He’s our Christmas, Brithday, Easter, Halloween, Thanksgiving, 4th of July present for the rest of our lives!

He’s really starting to be a little devil, though. Mostly we laugh but we’re afraid of spoiling his good nature by letting him think that his naughtiness is cute, which, actually it is most of the time. It doesn’t help that Allie (his 1st love since birth) caters to his every whim. I used to settle disputes between the girls who were playing together. Now I have to comfort Taylor because her sister is too busy playing with Sam and entertaining him to play with her as much. I tell you, those girls are my right arm. Not only are they thoughtful and sweet, and provide loads of love and companionship for their baby cousin (who is an only child), but they are the daughters of my heart. I miss them just thinking about them right now.

We try hard to teach the kids, even at Sam's age, the basic principles of the gospel. Our church has historical sites less than an hour form our home, where we took the kids on their last day off. It was a new and exciting experience for them to visit places where they've previously only learned about from pictures in church or family home evenings. Both girls were such a joy, excited to on top of Hill Cumorah, and very unhappy to be forced to leave without having found where the gold plates were hidden. The girls were even more excited to be on their way to see Joseph Smith's house. Taylor fully expected him to be there, and despite being told that he wouldn't be, she asked us to call his house to check (that's a mid-19th century replica of a house).
Sam started going to a toddler group, and is starting Nursery at church next week. As is normal for his age, he doesn’t much care for interacting with other toddlers as much as he is interested in poking or prodding them, and stealing a girl’s chair while she’s in it, or taking the toy with wheels from an innocent boy’s arms. Ought to be interesting to see him go to school in a couple of years.
Although it’s early to decide, because Sam is our whole life, we’ve hmmed and hawed over schooling Sam, how and when, etc. Shall I sitck him preschool at age 3 so we can afford to do things like eat again? Shall we bubble him up and home school him? Shall we tow him to Syracuse for private school where I’d work and pay for his tuition with every cent of my pay? Shall we put him in Montessori where there’s borderline results? We’ve decided to go traditional, as long as it suits his needs. I’ve been pleased the school where the girls go, and honestly it’s those middle and high school years I’m worried about more than the time they spend as believers in Santa Claus with other kids who, most of them, are into Disney princesses and Spiderman. So, there’s a light at the end of our financial crisis tunnel – when one day I’ll work again. Of course, what I’ve learned over the past year and a half, is that I need to just roll with it, and not plan too much. Wade may land himself in another tipped-over Big Mack truck, Sam may develop a major social phobia and refuse to go to school (unlikely though, he’s pretty social so far), Tim may remarry and decide to move to Colorado in which case I’d be jailed for slashing his tires and burning down the U-haul, Allison may win a fortune in a children’s art contest (because, wow, that kid can paint), Taylor could drive me to be committed with her incessant “Aunt Bethie!” whining, or I could end up staying home for many more years!
In life, we just never know. And so, I go forward, day by day, sometimes bathed and groomed, sometimes just playing with a happily drooling toddler who loves me today as much as I love him, and we both laugh hysterically over his pants falling down while playing ball – I’ve got a mad-crazy husband who is a phenomenal Daddy to our boy, I can honestly say I never saw I man come close to worship of a child so much in my life – and Sam truly loves him at least as much as me (and more on many days) - and that’s the life I’m happy to have – today.

2009

I spent most of my time this month trying not to count the days until Christmas because I’m soooo excited! I remember being 5 years old and getting up at one in the morning to find that Santa had come – I was so excited I was literally having convulsions.
That is nothing compared to the excitement that I have this year!
This year, my son can walk, climb, get into everything and anything, break things, chew things, open things, etc. He doesn’t know Santa from a clown, but the excitement I have to indulge my only son is very great. We really went overboard. I’ve been collecting, hiding, wrapping, and decorating for months. And I’m a bargain shopper, made several amazing buys. I have spent so much time on cookies, crafts with the girls, school activities, shopping, wrapping, decorating, listening to Christmas music, pounding the Christmas story into the kids’ heads. I spent most of last night playing with Sam’s train table. I don’t know who will like it more!
Many people look at what I am today and think I have it easy. Others give me more credit for enduring hardships than I deserve. Others still think "why the heck doesn't she just get a job?". Others applaud my determination to be a mother first and only, for as long as possible. But I'm the one who has to sleep with my thoughts and feelings at night. Despite a light sleeping son, I've never slept better than lately. That's a nice, peaceful feeling. And is a testament to my state of mind. And it's not me, it must be a great gift from above!

As I reflect over this past year I have to county my many blessings – I am truly at my happiest despite an overall near-poverty level income for our household for the first time. What my life has been this entire year has been a daily drive and ability to care for, love, and thoroughly enjoy what matters most in my life. How could I complain about money when I am wake up around 5am to a beautiful boy who just wants to be held? I cuddle him in the recliner as he sleeps until 7 when the girls arrive and I play dress-up with my 2 beautiful dolls, feed them, bundle them, and send them to school. I then spend the day with my boy, who recently requires constant attention or he will discover new and scary safety hazards in our alleged toddler-proof home. Sam likes to climb and put things in his mouth most of all, so use your imagination there with my daily heart attacks. We play together in the play room, he destroys it and conquers every chair with a bouncy dance once standing on it. He likes to destroy my Lincoln log building just as I’m about to put the roof on. He also loves his Daddy. I love to have Wade home so often. Never thought I’d say that – but it has been a bonding point for us to share in parent responsibilities. Many times Sam reaches for Daddy and cries for him instead of me. And this actually warms my heart! That my boy has a father who jumps to his cries and cares for his needs and wants and shows affections in every way that I do. Sam takes his long afternoon naps in my arms. I usually watch a dvd or read a book with my free hand. We got rid of cable long ago, and are so happy without the bombardment of advertisements and world popularity. Instead we watch clips of the Muppets on Youtube and slowly work through 30 minute increments of movie collections after Sam is asleep, Rocky, Pirates, Lord of the Rings. I read the stupid Twilight series. Now I’m trying to be more spiritually minded.
The girls come home from school. Allison and Taylor usually call affectionately for Sam and he cackles with happiness to see them. We have snack, we review school work, we hug and talk, and we play. Taylor is my comic relief and philisophical genius. Allison is my right arm. I don't know what I'd do without her amazing motherly abilities - at age 7 she knows as much if not more than I about caring for a baby, and is more thoughtful than I can describe.

Watching Allison, Taylor, and Sam play together. It’s like watching actual joy. The love, the bond, the smiles and laughter.

The bickering. The whining. The hair pulling. The tripping on their own feet. The tears.
It’s okay. Those things bring them to my arms, where I want them to be in the first place.
Tim comes home to collect the girls after dinner. He’s tired, and I love and respect his drive to take care of his girls with his job and his heart. It’s nice to see my only sibling every day, and even nicer that we get along because we share a common focus in life – our children.
I talk to my mom, ant, Gramma, and friend on the phone. I share with them my petty frustrations and busy schedule, even if I’m not leaving the house I feel swamped. But they console me just with adult female point of view; sympathy, agreement, counsel.
I generally have food in the house, we never go hungry. Sam eats well. The girls eat, well, when they like it. But all are healthy. What an overwhelming blessing!
I rock my son to sleep, or better yet watch Wade do it, and make lunches for the kids for the next school day. I usually put a love note in it and even smooch the napkin, to send my love with them. They get a kick out of that.
I get to play vet a lot. I’m always the pet owner who has to come up with creative illnesses for my stuffed pink unicorn. I then have to keep a straight face as I’m told by a tiny, medical-robed girl that my pet has fleas and it likes the color blue so dress it in blue every day.
I also get lots of colored pictures. I stuff most of them in the garbage. But, there have been a few I neatly fold and put in my cherished drawer of the vanity. They sometimes bring me to tears when I look at the words written at the top “for aunt bethie, I love you”.
So I tell them, every day, all day, I love them. I beckon them for hugs and kisses, a lot. Sometimes they trudge over with exasperation but I don’t care. I smother the baby’s soft cheeks with kisses almost every time I pick him up. He sometimes turns his head away to breathe, and I can’t blame him, but mostly he smiles that glorious sunshine smile and looks me straight in the eyes with love! I need them more than they need me, and I cherish each day I have with them.
I cherish this year, this time, with my babies, my husband, my family. It may not always be this simple and beautiful – time out punishments for simple offenses, nearly overdue bills arriving in the mail, or chasing down 2 little legs that reached the dog dish before I could see it being the worst I deal with. I can’t complain.
I have the greatest treasure on earth. Knowledge that I can be with my family forever. And I love this time more than any other. We didn’t go to Disneyland this year. We didn’t buy a minivan. I wore through most of my pants and was lucky to shower once a day. We mostly ate applesauce a lot because it’s cheaper.
But. My husband lived through a major accident unharmed. I went through some medical issues with surprisingly simple recoveries. We spent more days in the sanctuary of our home than everywhere else combined. We have many fruit snacks (Sam’s drug of choice!). I don’t need new pants, I like my skirts better anyway. I’ll always have the luxury of memory and time spent with the kids this summer when they were with me at the beach, not at day camp. I still take Wade’s outreached hand from across the couch every night and squeeze it, and see his love for me in his eyes and can give him back the same.
We’ve been together. And I am so happy!

My Son

My son,
What would I do for you?

I would spend my childhood playing with my dolls,
Remembering each of their names and pretending that they were alive,
I remember crying because I forgot my cabbage patch kid’s birthday.
I felt horrendous guilt one day when it occurred to me that I never fed them, that they must have been starving. I tried desperately to shove
food in their mouths. One of the dolls still has a stain on her lips.
I was their mother. I would practice for you.

I would spend my adolescent years dreaming of your father,
although I hadn’t met him yet.
I really hoped that he would be Jon Bon Jovi.
I would spend hours on the phone with my friends, deciding what to name you.
I would pack up my special dolls in hopes of giving them to you, if you wanted them.
I would go to church, I would develop my talents, I tried my best to keep my standards,
As well as any hormonal and deranged teenager can.
Hoping that someday, I would be blessed to have you be mine forever, and that you might even think I could be a good example for you to follow, and that you would
Try hard to choose the right in spite of adversity, and hopefully be far better than me.


I would go to college, and plan a career that would make you proud,
But also allow me time to focus on you.
Because you are my greatest work, and I knew it then.
4 years trying to be good for your future, carefully choosing my friends,
and meeting your father.
Who I couldn’t stand.

I would serve a mission, because I love the Lord, among other reasons.
While I was there I thought of you.
I dreamt of your father before I returned home.
I married him 6 months later and waited for you.
And waited.
I worked jobs in my field, just waiting.
I endlessly talked with your father, who I now love,
Before and after were married,
About how much we want for you. What we might name you.
And that we want you more than anything.
I occasionally bought children’s books that were special to me,
And put them on the shelf,
Waiting for you.
I gave my dolls to your cousins, our girls, thinking that you wouldn’t mind.
Because you weren’t showing up anyway.


I wouldn’t give up on you.
But I would give up on waiting.

I would stay strong for you.
Because someday, even in the next life,
I would have you.
And would want to be the best I could be.

I would cry when I heard your heartbeat.
Out of surprise and shock and fear.

I would not touch a single candy bar for 9 months.
I would eat vegetables dutifully.

I would stand over your empty crib before work,
Sometimes to the point where I’d leave late,
Imagining you there, and crying tears of joy.

I would have a hard time sleeping the night before I was
Scheduled to see you on ultrasound, even though it was every week.

I would panic when I couldn’t feel you move. I would cry some more,
With happiness, when I could.

I would buy you blue everything, when I found out that you were a boy.
And I would spare no expense.
I would wash your clothes 10 times in mild detergent before they touched your closet.

I would play music for you, softly,
And sing to you,
In Spanish.
And read to you every night with your Father.

I would pray for you with every thought.

I would push through anything for your healthy delivery.

I would spend my post partum days neglecting myself entirely, and sobbing over your incubator when you were 4 days old.

I would go without sleep, for weeks, and remain on high alert for your breathe
Each night for months.

I would live for your smell, and your touch.

I would make you 25 blankets, even if you were born in summer.

I would pinch pennies with your father, for me to stay home with you.

I would go to the store for milk, and come home with something you’ll like someday.

I would fight tigers barehanded for your safety, and I would bark at a strange child who touched you with their germy hands.

I would pray in thanks every day.

My son,
what I would do for you
is perhaps not the shortest question to answer,
But rather,
what wouldn’t I do.

Because I will spend the rest of my life,
on you.