Binkytowne

Wordless Wednesday

[caption id="attachment_481" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="I call this one "Working with Doughnut""][/caption]

Like I have time to read

Read about Buddhism for Mothers over at Milk Bank today

http://milkbank.com/2009/03/this-mom-recommends/

Not everything tastes like chicken

At bedtime, he sat as usual, with a book open in his lap.

For as wild as his behavior can be, he has the mildest palette on the planet. Anything with a strong flavour or weird texture completely shuts him down. Vanilla is his favorite thing. Plain old, boring, white, vanilla everything.

He gave me the play by play of everything that was happening in the story, as he likes to do. He started to point to the faces of the children that were depicted in the book. The children in the book were from various different races and places. He pointed to the one that looked most like him. This one has skin like vanilla, he said, not all that surprising, really, considering the source.

But then something wonderful happened. He kept going.

This one has cinnamon skin and this one, he has chocolate skin. 

I watched him, in awe a little bit, maybe a lot because, well, he was right.

Up until that moment I had never seen the world quite like that before and maybe never will see it any other way again.

Mystery Man

Every time I look at him, every time, my eyes dart across the bridge of his nose, the curve of his eyes, my minds eye confused and still expecting to see my child.

My other child.

It doesn't help matters that he is in a constant evolutionary state. Depending upon the light and the wave of his wispy hair, every day bring out a new characteristic. Sometimes the chin disappears and he's all the swell of his full infant cheeks. Othertimes it's his manic, mad-scientist eyebrows I can't tear my eyes off of.

He looks most like my husband's father, if you can even say that, because he doesn't. He doesn't look like any of us, he looks like him.

Which is how it should be. Still, a mother shouldn't feel surprised to be greeted by a face (in a drool-soaked tee-shirt) like this.

 

[caption id="attachment_465" align="aligncenter" width="225" caption="I love this face. "][/caption]

Going, Going, Gone

A couple of weeks ago, while getting ready for work, I shuffled through my closet looking for something inspiring. It is February after all, and I am tired of the gray and black that seems to dominate my wardrobe. On a whim I reached to the back and pulled out a pair of pants I haven’t seen for many months. I did the unexpected and tried on a pair of PBP’s (translation: Pre-Baby Pants).

The good news: They fit.

The bad news: They fit.

Read more about being "done" over at MilkBank...