Things that should not be allowed at the gym, especially by the guy on the machine next to me:

Mouth-breathing without a thorough teeth-brushing. I’m assuming he hadn’t brushed his teeth, because I could SMELL his BREATH. Hork.

Food Network tv-watching.

……………..

So. It’s 2010. I think this is going to be a good year.

Hold You In My Arms: Ray LaMontagne
Volcano: Damien Rice
Chicago: Sufjan Stevens
Mushaboom: Feist
I’d Rather Be With You: Joshua Radin
Orange Sky: Alexi Murdoch
Last Goodbye: Jeff Buckley
Slow Dancing In A Burning Room: John Mayer
Naked As We Came: Iron & Wine
Heartbeats: Jose Gonzalez
Waiting for My Real Life to Begin: Colin Hay
Chocolate: Snow Patrol
New Slang: The Shins & Iron & Wine
She Is: The Fray
In the Sun: Chris Martin & Michael Stipe
The Fear You Won’t Fall: Joshua Radin
High: James Blunt
I Feel It All: Feist
Catch My Disease: Ben Lee
Into the Mystic: Van Morrison
The Trapeze Swinger: Iron & Wine
Let Go: Frou Frou
Skinny Love: Bon Iver
Burn One Down: Ben Harper
When Your Mind’s Made Up: Glen Hansard & Marketa Irglova
Gotta Have You: The Weepies
To Be Alone With You: Sufjan Stevens
Fair: Remy Zero
Kingdom Come: Coldplay
A Lack Of Color: Death Cab For Cutie
One Of These Things First: Nick Drake

What are you listening to?

Today is his birthday.

One whole year has passed, and I’m still drunk with love every time I look at him, smell him, touch him, drink him up. He’s all eyelashes and fuzzy butter-soft skin, contented smiles and feet and hands on my breast when he feeds. I can’t remember how I breathed before him.

I wish I had documented it better, every day of our lives together, because it’s so hard for me to believe that it really happened. Smiles and teeth and claps and baby steps and first words and holy hell, where does the time go?

I’m not the same person I was a year ago. Everything is different, easier and harder. Fifty pounds smaller on the outside, and fifty pounds heavier on the inside, right up top under my ribcage. I’m happier and and richer and poorer and so much more exhausted. I have a child and I feel like a child, I’m all grown up and responsible and clueless. I have a purpose and a reason, but less direction. I’m thirsty and I’m full. Everything is different and I don’t know where it’s going or where I’m going, but I know that it’s all for him, for our family. I’ll figure it out, I’m figuring it out as I go one step at a time.  I’m not the same person I was a year ago.

I’m his mama.

I remember every time he wakes up from a deep sleep and cries out for me, for comfort and a snuggle. I remember every time he turns around and stops what he’s doing to smile at me, just to make sure I’m still here. He makes me sing and he makes me dance and he throws his head back when I dip him. He’s my baby, my big boy, my handsome lovie.