It was a beautiful end to our five-week mother-son-before-the-baby-comes time together and even though we had our kooky days, I wouldn't trade our time for anything, because, rain or shine, it was all about us. In sickness and in health. And I needed that.
I needed to hold Archer's hand in the pony-ride ticket line and ride the Griffith Park train fifteen times in a row, listening over and over as Archer pointed out power lines.
"Look, Mommy! Anoder power line so cool!"
I needed to sweat under the blazing sun at Disneyland, to regret taking him on Pirates of the Caribbean because it was too scary. (I should have known better. Now I do.) I needed to watch him introduce himself to boys and girls at friend's birthday parties.
"Hi. My name is Archer. Come on, o'er here! Play with me."
I needed to chase him screaming down the beaches of Santa Monica, half-crying, clutching my belly, sprinting as fast as I could until I found him hiding behind the farthest lifeguard tower. And then I needed to lecture him on why we don't run away from pregnant mommies with shitloads of stuff in their hands. I needed him to cry just like I needed to kiss him on the face and tell him "it's okay. I love you. Let's be friends again. Follow me..."
I needed to tell him I loved him a hundred thousand times and listen to him make up his very own lullabies for the baby.
"The one in mommy's tummy I sing song?"
I needed to hear him say that he has a baby in his tummy, too.
I needed to draw Saturn for him and read The Space book a thousand times and remind him to wash his hands. I needed to applaud him for building "the biggest tower ever that I've ever seen!" out of LEGOS. I needed to watch him learn to climb the wall at the park.
I needed to spoon him under the window of a cottage on a great hill overlooking the sea, his little hands pulling my arm over his waist, playing with my fingers.
All of this because I needed to watch him grow-up. Become my big boy. A big brother. I needed to watch him every second to make sure I didn't miss something. I needed to memorize the way he walked, played, fell asleep. The way his hands felt in mine, his sandy feet against my knees.
So that when he's old enough to understand, I'll be able to tell him about the month before his sister came and how we spent it just the two of us... And how special and beautiful it was... most of the time. How special and beautiful it always is... most of the time.
I feel ready, now. For him to go back to school, go back to his friends, five days a week, six hours a day...
I'm ready to get back to work while I still can. I've been unable to get much writing done this last month and am eager to get back to the coffee shop and my current projects, at least
for these last few weeks of freedom until the baby makes her appearance and totally screws up my schedule makes it difficult to do much of anything besides being a mom.
August was about Archer so that September can be about me so that October can be about her...
October. I can't believe how soon it's going to be October.