poetry • art • marriage • momhood • faith

"Life is not measured by the breaths we take…"

"…but by the moments that take our breath away."
— Author Unknown

How many breathless moments have you had lately?

How many breathless moments have you been able to give?

* * * * *
My life, as of late, has been consuming.  Blessed & busy.  As is the world of a parent, I guess.

In less than two weeks, our oldest will turn five.  FIVE. I still distinctly remember a moment while I was nursing him in the days right after he was born when my mother pointed out, "it won't be long before he'll stretch beyond the boppy pillow." He fit so neatly across my lap then. This week he got a shiny new Lightning McQueen bike as an advance birthday gift from his great-grandparents…  He's convinced he can't move fast enough.  Out of breath from chasing him down the street, I'm thinking he's going too fast, he's growing too fast.  No doubt we'll be shopping for his first car and colleges before we know it.

Meanwhile, sometimes time can't pass fast enough. Take, for instance, the time it takes to potty train a child.  Diapers are a pain in the butt, expensive, and icky.  Yes, there is a bonding factor when the child is still a baby, but somewhere after 18 months, enough is enough.  The parent is ready for the child to "go potty" whether they're ready or not.  But the process can't be rushed.  Trust me, we've tried.  It is a lesson in patience, psychology, and genuine joy for the sake of a turd in the toilet.  Seriously.  I have not been happier (in the past 2 years) to hear the tinkle and movements of bathroom music.  Gross, huh?  But anyone who's actively potty trained a toddler gets it.  And in that way, our Second has stolen my breath — by cheers and praises and promises of Buzz Lightyear underpants instead stinky diapers.

Then there's the Third.  This little boy, oh boy — That's right, our third child is another boy!  the thought has stolen my breath a few times.  That ultrasound image of our little exhibitionist, and every tickle since, has made my heart flutter.  This is the first child we decided to find out the sex beforehand.  We wanted to be surprised the first two times.  It is definitely a different dynamic knowing — not better or worse, just different.  I liked having the surprise with our first two children, but I'm glad we found out since I felt so sure this child was a girl.  It's nice to be able to mentally prepare and focus on just picking one name.  Anyhow, this little guy has a way of kicking, punching, tickling me just right that he leaves me breathless, literally.  Sometimes it's exhausting, but I keep remembering the empty feeling that follows in the days and weeks after giving birth: though a mother has her new child to hold, the constant presence is gone, and it's a foreign feeling.  I fully understand where post-partum depression comes from.  And so I cherish even the fatique.

Finally, there is my first "baby", the biggest kid in our household, my totally wonderful and awesome husband.  Just one month shy of celebrating our 6-year anniversary, I am constantly reminded of how blessed I am to have this man as the father of my children.  He is such a good daddy: firm when necessary, but loving and fun.  The boys adore him (though I think they'd still qualify as "momma's boys"), and rightly so.  And of course it's no mystery how we've ended up with three children…  He still can leave me breathless.

(Is this an appropriate time to mention the fact that my poem "The Religion of Sex" was accepted for this year's issue of KaKaLaK?)

So tell me, who or what has given you breathless moments lately?

2 Comments

  1. Jenn Jenn
    April 30, 2009    

    Oh I SOOOOO hope you get the potty training under control before the arrival of the new diaper machine lol. Congrats on another boy! Actually I should save those congrats for when he is 18 and you have survived in a house full of guys 🙂

    Talk about leaving a gal breathless…

  2. Julie Julie
    April 30, 2009    

    Actually, when I consider the alternative, a houseful of boys may be more physically exhausting, but I expect it to be less of an emotional drain. 🙂

    As for potty training, it looks like we might be done with pull-ups over the weekend! Whoo-hoo!

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torch bearing quietly

I will not act out, will not
yell or curse or slam doors,
will not make a scene -- you
do not deserve such a chance
to make an example out of me
to be proven right since you
are not. Instead, I'll stand
at this street corner, raise
my hand high and clench that
light which yet remains. It
will burn brightly, quietly,
fiercely before fading as I.

Then I'll be gone but found.

©JAC 2005

Poetry by Julie Ann Cook!

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Love Like Weeds
by Julie Ann Cook
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