Fleet

A rough week, Ben's second-to-last tooth breaking through (yay! it's finally here), sleepless nights, early morning wake-ups, full-fledged tantrums on the floor. And me, usually a well of patience, cracking several times. I was hungry, I was tired, and every time I sat down for a meal, he would cry.

Some moments of beauty, though. Three new poem drafts for me, and a book in the mail, Stacie Cassarino's Zero at the Bone. Ben's new favorite books: Rosemary Wells' Yoko series, endearing books about a Japanese cat named Yoko. Ben's ongoing obsession with The Beatles, spending many long sessions listening to them on his headphones, giving both of us a needed break. And his brilliant idea: each time we read the Yoko books, we must start by listening to "Oh Yoko" by John Lennon. Does he know how incredibly cool he is to think of that, to want to do it each time?

I was thinking about these rough times. There have been so many of them these past two years: teething, developmental spurts, illness, and God knows what else. When I'm really in it -- awake for two hours in the night, holding his crying, taut little body -- it sucks. But I'm always quick to reassure myself that it will be over soon. Soon I will be gazing at his sleeping body, soon he'll be gazing up at me, smiling as he nurses. And soon he will be all grown up, off to school, off to college. I am quick to remember how brief this time in my life is. I am good at remembering that. Somehow, my age-old fixation with loss, with the fleetingness of life, has served me well.