Five-sense Friday

The morning started too early, exhaustion and adrenaline singing in my muscles, an unselfconscious full-throated rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star ringing out from Lucy's bedroom.  It was impossible not to smile.

Oh what my body has accomplished this week, with its five simple senses at attention, in its power and its weakness.  A life. We have welcomed a new life.  Peanut is here with her wavering, warbling little cry, her skin so smooth, her eyes so bright, her toes so impossibly long.  Julianne, we have called her, for Julian of Norwich (of course, you say smiling, of course).  And Portia, for one of the most beautiful, strongest women I have ever known.

This day has called for a poppy bagel and decaf coffee, for a routine visit to the midwife, for a grilled cheese sandwich stuffed with apple and prosciutto, for leftover curried cauliflower soup, for apple cake with whipped cream, for a nap, for pizza with a kind and helpful friend, for a sip of Winter Ale.  It has called for many hours with seven pounds of breathtaking beautiful and tiny on my lap, tugging at my breast.  It has called for Advil on repeat for the ache of healing.  It has smelled of milk and breastfed diapers, of essential oils in warm baths, of chill spring air.  It has felt like eyes closing involuntarily as I sit, as I read a Dora book aloud or my Facebook page.

The evening ended a bit past the normal bedtime, with strains of "ABC" from the bedroom, one last loud lullaby.  The rumble of washing machine and dishwasher.  Our sides split with laughter.

I can't wait to tell you all the stories, but for now this is enough.  There are tiny arms to be swaddled in flannel and crochet and tired bones to lift into bed until the next feed.

Five-Sense [Saturday]

Hearing:  A small hand jiggling the doorknob to her room, then pushing into my room; with elbows perched on the edge of my bed, chin in hands, "Mama, Mommy, Mama;" the click of the light as I turn it on in her room, then the rustling of pages and telling of stories as I fall back under the covers for 30 more precious minutes before the "Mama, I'm hungwy."
Seeing:  Brightness as my eyes adjust to the lights; gluten-free frozen bagels in the glow of the toaster oven; clean Fiestaware and IKEA plastic dishes to put away bright and colorful in the dishwasher and cabinets; the blue glow of the computer screen and the blue glow of the "f" logo of my favorite social media site, my morning wake-up ritual (for better or for worse); my own hugely round profile in the mirror.
Smelling:  Last night's Mango Chow bowl; sweetness of honey spread on L's bagel; the clean smell of other people's detergent on my haul of new clothes from a clothing swap last night (best idea ever, by the way--even when I was the only preggo there); diapers (always diapers, and recently it's the baby-powdery smell of Pampers, because I've fallen off the cloth wagon in the past months); the fresh rain-washed air on my walk to "work."
Tasting: A flat sesame bagel with cream cheese; a butter croissant with many-berry jam; the smoothest decaf coffee light and sweet.
Feeling: Smooth dishes, sticky honey, the heaviness, pressing and rolling of an eight-months baby inside, the tired, sticky, puffy feeling below my eyes, and the gratefulness for quotes like this that give all of this slow daily work meaning:

For example, the mother who stays home with small children experiences a very real withdrawal from the world. Her existence is definitely monastic. Her tasks and preoccupations remove her from the centres of power and social importance. And she feels it. Moreover her sustained contact with young children (the mildest of the mild) gives her a privileged opportunity to be in harmony with the mild, that is, to attune herself to the powerlessness rather than to the powerful.” – Ronald Rolheiser, quoted by Beth at Red and Honey (also here)

Five Sense Friday

Seeing: Bright, frosty morning, ice on the windows of our car as I walk by on my way to the coffee shop; revisions, revisions, revisions, words, sentences, paragraphs and pages starting to look like a book; sunshine building through the day, moving across our kitchen floor; wilty carrot tops in the garden that I never pulled in the fall, but that still hide big orange roots ripe for picking; cloudless blue sky.

Hearing: Crish-crash, Oops, it was trash day again; quiet folksy music, the hum of the coffee shop and of the traffic on my walk home; Lu's constant toddler babble; her laughter as we go outside to ride her bike and jump on the trampoline in the yard, letting Daddy rest off a headache.

Tasting:  An almond croissant (special ordered with no powdered sugar!), seltzer water; a green apple with peanut butter; cheesy crackers, but oops, not quite enough for lunch; carrots sweet from hibernation and made into muffins (gluten free!); leftover rice pasta and meat sauce.

Smelling: Trash cans and compost bins (various); last night's dishes soaking in the sink; coffee-smell in my coat on the way home; wet earth; bathtime humidity.

Feeling:  Computer keys smooth and black beneath my fingers; sun warm on my black cardigan (no coat! Eight degrees in January!) as I sit in the trampoline and Lucy bounces me around; dirt on my fingers (what is this, spring?); baby kicks and rolls in my belly stronger every day (and especially strong through last night!).  This dull ache of exhaustion or happiness to just be no matter what, whichever it is, and sometimes it is all the same.

Five Sense Friday

 It's Friday!

This morning I was laying in bed in the weak light--knowing that it was writing day and that I needed to get moving so I could get some work done, but just unable to motivate myself to leave the  down covers and cushy memory-foam topped bed--when I heard Lucy make a giggling rush for my bedroom door.  Clint opened the door, and she came in, smiling with her whole face, her hair sticking out in every direction and ran to the side of my bed, wiggling her fingers. "Tickle you, tickle you" she giggled in her tiny voice.  "Wake up Mommy!  Mommy, wake up!" 

She climbed up over the covers and over my body, nestled in with a  "Yoyee Yoim"/"Lowly Worm" book she had brought with her (which is what she calls every book by the delightful Richard Scarry), and proceeded to "read" the pictures on every page, making note of every piggy holding a fork, and calling every character by name and station (i.e. pointing out the bad guys and the good guys and the "mystery bug" with his own hat and shoes and the piggy with a fork that had two cherries on it from his cherry pie).  I slowly roused to these happy sounds, got up, dressed for what I knew would be a chilly day (Lucy still commentating), gave Clint a good morning kiss, and made myself a poppy bagel with cream cheese.

After a bit of delay for bathroom-sharing, makeup-applying and toddler-wrangling to get her bundled up in hundreds of layers of clashing colors, we all set out on a walk together through the frost-tipped morning.  Lucy rode in her red umbrella stroller.  The cool bit my cheeks as we pointed out the white frost.  I wished I had remembered a toque to keep my own head warm.  Her little girl cheeks seemed so round over her scarf.  Then we parted ways, Lucy and her dad for a date at "her" Diner, me for my work in a buzzing coffee-shop.

The words come slow this morning, sleep still drags at me as I sip my honeybush tea.  But a new day is here and the work calls me.

Five-Sense Friday!

Whew.  Where do the days go?  I can answer that...  into caring for my daughter.  emails with friends.  writing my book.  reading the entire Divergent series in a week.  and into neglecting my blog, apparently. :)

My head is buzzing with the work of importing documents into the writing software Scrivener to make sense of the 72 scenes and 60,000 + words I've written for this project.  Insanity.  60,000 words and it still needs that special something to make it a book.  Haven't figured it out yet. 

My head is also buzzing with the recent publicity around decisions being made at my alma mater, Cedarville University.  While I'm writing a book with a considerable section about my college years.  A book about why I became an Anglican instead of staying in the Baptist church.  I feel like my book will probably confirm every trustee's suspicion that liberal theology has seeped into the university.  I'm also increasingly okay with that.

However, it's Friday! And today I'm:

Seeing:  Computer screen until my eyes cross.  My daughter's round face peeking over the baby gate and around the corner to see me at my desk.  Documents and Folders and Finders and Binders and search windows and outlines and corkboards and keyboards and trackpads and, well, you get the idea.  It's been a virtual kind of day.  Well, except for the Tupperware and Ziplocs full of mold I cleaned out of the back of the fridge.

Feeling:  Cold creeping into my fingers and toes as I work.  The warmth of the computer below my fingers and on my lap when I move to the couch.  Lucy's fingers touch mine as I pass her the clean plastic dishes for her to put away in her drawer.  The broom in my hands, sweeping the floor three times in 30 minutes.

Hearing:  Lucy, babble-reading books on the couch.  Myself, rambling on about the craziness in my head.  Clint, laughing at me and making me laugh at myself.  The fridge, which has been running and knocking a bit too much lately and worrying me.

Smelling:  A bag of Matchstick Decaf coffee, an early 30th-birthday present.  The heat of an oven accidentally turned to 525*F and the bubbly three cheese pizzas that cooked ever so quickly in that oven.  The plastic too near the oven vent (I always let it get too near the oven vent...).

Tasting:  leftover waffle, toasted brie and cherry sandwich plus plenty of pickles and olives, pizza.

Five-Sense Friday

Today I'm...

feeling:  a previously-owned, new-to-me MacBook Pro--it's smooth keys still a foreign feeling beneath my fingers.  a soft baby washcloth for endless wiping of a little girl's drippy nose.  the car's cold steering wheel.  rain on my face and hair as I carry a bundled girl to her seat.  my own nose stuffy and my throat raw and dry.

seeing:  mud and leaves caked and splattered on our white car (ahh street parking).  a little girl pretty in pink, even on a sick day.  children's paintings in bold primary colors on the wall of the doctor's office.

hearing:  tears.  wet, chesty coughing fits.  our doctor's reassurances, recommendations, and reference points for when we might need to come back.  L's nap time sleep music.

tasting:  peanut butter toast, hot honey lemonade, homemade chicken soup, cheese toast, cool water soothing my throat.

smelling:  the sharpness of last night's chicken-packaging spoiling in the trash can.  the softness of a toddler's cheek.  my mom's detergent still in my clothes from last week's visit.

Five-sense Friday... Prose edition

It's been a while, friends!  A long blog silence packed with too much to say in too little time is now coming to an end.  Be prepared, because I'm blogging again!

Winter has arrived today in Vancouver and poured its gentle rain on the many colored leaves and bared branches of autumn.  Gentle and incessant.  Never downpouring and never ending.  Perhaps we’ll have a good winter this year, perhaps we will actually see blue sky sometime between now and June.  Perhaps.  If not, at least there is the green glow of life that all this water sustains through the cold of winter.

My heart feels gray today.  I sit here, sipping my peppermint tea in a coffee shop, warmed by a flickering yellow fire, chilled by sitting too close to the back door.  I can see sky, leaves, and branches reflected in my cooling tea and it reminds me of a youth camp I went on in Grade 11, when we were asked one day to find something in a rainy New York forest that represented our spiritual life at the time.  Ever the poet, I wanted something deep and new, insightful and profound.  I couldn’t carry them with me to show and tell, but I found myself longing to be a puddle, still with the reflection of sky and branches.  “So that when people look down at me, they can see God.” 

I crack open my worn maroon Book of Common prayer and pray for the morning, savoring the words about repentance and forgiveness.  My heart is heavy with my own headstrong, persistent mistakes these days.  I try to open my hands and let go of them. 

“ TO-DAY, O that ye would hear his voice.” 

I look out the window, across the street at a busker in a long blue raincoat with a jumbled misspelled sign, standing in the rain.  I saw him crossing the street earlier, with a tiny woman who came only up to his waist, and he was carrying a sword.  Nothing about the way they were dressed betrayed their situation.  They looked so bizarrely normal, like something out of a work of art.  He notices me looking and turns his gaze to burn into me.

“Harden not your hearts as in the Provocation,

 and as in the day of Temptation in the wilderness,

When your fathers tempted me,

proved me and saw my works.”

I look away, move to a seat where I can plug in my computer, and they are gone.  They’ve vanished like angels of judgment.  Ought 50 cents to weigh so heavy in my pocket?

I am here for a purpose this morning.  To write.  Amidst the smells of coffee brewing and pastries baking (both of which I cannot enjoy in the asceticism of allergy).  Amidst the hum of conversations.  Just a glass panel away from the gray rain, the dancing flames reflected in the cold window.  Not many words today.  Just an ache, a longing that someday I would be able to say that right thing and someone could hear his voice.  That they would look at my face and see Jesus.

Who knows what the damp chill of winter will bring with it?  Who can tell?

Five-Sense Friday

Today I'm:

Seeing:  Smiles.  So many little eight-toothed smiles like a flash of brightness into a long day.  Dark red BC cherries that I just can't pass up.  Little green figs growing on the neighbor's tree that hangs over into our backyard.  The pink and green of sliced figs waiting in a bowl.

Hearing:  During diaper changes, belly laughter.  During play time, shrieks of pure delight.  On a walk, scenic commentary: uhh-uhh-ohh-ohh.  In between, a bit of fussing, a bit of pure silence. The leaves rustling on my arms as I raid the fig tree.  The plum pot plop all day long.

Feeling:  Sunscreen slick between my fingers as I rub it on small face and arms and then bigger face and arms. Sun and sweat heavy on my skin.  The wrinkly laminated cover of a library paperback to get me through a long upcoming week.  Sticky fig-milk oozing out of fresh split skins.  The steam heat of jamming and canning pots.

Smelling: Diapers and compost and a wet bathroom (just to remind me of my mortality).  Sweet brown grasses and the odd, memorable scent of the Health Food store.  Something burnt on the cooktop, something yummy in process.

Tasting:  Leftover plum cake with friends.  Chunky homemade applesauce.  Leftover dinner.  Jam samples: cherries, bright and sweet; figs, light like strawberries that grow in the air; plums, not quite like I remember them...

Sensual Saturday

I’m always looking for ways to make this weekly routine different, unique, new.  It’s my inner restlessness, I think, always pushing me.  I probably look like a still and quiet person from the outside, since I like to laze around and think (and stare at computer screens), but most days my soul is not a still ocean reflecting the sky (as above) or babbling brook singing along it’s journey.  Instead there are turbulent rapids roiling just beyond the still eyes staring out the window.  Pushing me forward.

In truth, my life with Lucy changes so fast that I was tempted yesterday to dedicate the whole post to just her, documenting her rise into a new stage.  She’s no longer looking or acting like a baby.  She’s a toddler now.  She has taken her first steps and (as if it wasn’t before) life just got crazy.  Of course, she does this one week before we move apartments, at the precise moment when we are most preoccupied and distracted.

But my lifelines these days, even in the midst of moving and growing and this constant changing, are the hours of Thursday mornings and Saturday mornings, set aside for writing.  I’ve declared them guilt-free zones.

So today I’m:

Seeing:  The smiling faces of the baristas at J.J. Bean, local coffee shop extraordinaire.  Sparrows flying in the open windows of the café, hopping on tables and floor in search of crumbs.  Happy customers basking in the gleaming morning sun on the patio.  Comforting words from Julian: “Full preciously our lord keeps us when it seems to us that we are near forsaken and cast away for our sin and because we have deserved it.” (Chap 39)  Tiny new babies in strollers.  Seven hundred new words, that weren’t there when I started this morning.

Hearing:  The pound and whirr and hiss of the espresso machine.  The busy traffic along Main.  The hum of Saturday morning coffee dates.  Some great South American jazz (including a few songs with the accordion, for good measure), playing in the background.

Tasting:  Peppermint tea with just enough white sugar to give it sweetness.

Feeling:  The smooth home keys on my computer, after a week of typing mostly emails and Facebook posts on my phone’s tiny keyboard.

Smelling:  Sunshine on wet pavement.  Grass.  Mint. The stale coffee smell on my sweater and in my backpack as I leave to go home.

Five-Sense Friday

It's Friday again! 

Today I'm...

Feeling:  Cold.  (Yes, even with the sun out.  Will this coldest-rainiest-June-on-record ever end?  Pleeese?)  The fabrics of my clothing as I sort it and mourn all the great summer clothes I haven't used in, like, four years since we moved to Canada.  Little arms hugging my knees everywhere I try to turn.  Little hands searching in my shorts pocket to try to find my smartphone.  The threads of a crochet tea cozy that I've finally finished.

Hearing:  The washing machine scrubbing diapers clean.  MmmMMMmmmMMMmmmMMMmmm.  UnhhUNHunh.  BrrBRrr.  She seems to be learning vocal inflections.  Sometimes she smacks her soother so she sounds a little like Maggie Simpson.  He he.

Seeing:  Little, harmless, annoying black ants in my kitchen. Bright yellow curry fingerprints on the table, the wall, L's clothes.  The longest eyelashes in the world.  My email.  Facebook.  This blog.  My little Interwebs.

Smelling:  The back of L's chubby baby neck.  The last of the spicy chicken curry I heat for her lunch.  Mint tea.  Rice crackers that smell a little like Rice Krispies.

Tasting:  Leftover Potato curry and chicken curry and roti for lunch.  And now, I think, some strawberry ice cream is in order.

Five-Sense Friday

Today I'm...

Seeing: Gray skies.  Blue skies. Familiar faces.  A friend here for a quick visit. L's eyebrows going up in the funniest way, almost like she's surprised.  Or judging me.  Either one. :)

Hearing: "Bap. Bat. Bop." WeeOohWeeOohWee (a siren-like sound L makes in her nose).  Good, catching-up, adult conversation after C was gone this week on a Conference.

Tasting:  Egg and cheese on a bagel.  Sushi.  Brown rice tea, sweet and nutty.  Cheese as a family bedtime snack.

Feeling:  Baby skin. Baby warm and sleeping on my chest. Baby's weight as I carried her on a walk, making my feet tired with the extra 25 pounds or so (!!!).  Tiredness aching in my muscles.

Smelling:  Compost.  Coffee Beans.  Tea.

Five-Sense Friday

It's Friday again!  Today I'm...

Hearing: Baby snores and giggles and clicks and bubbles and babbles.  My husband's low, lovely conversation.

Seeing:  Sunshine, beautiful sunshine. Cherry blossoms in the back yard.  Lucy pulling all the clothes out of the basket and throwing them over her shoulder, one by one.  And Lucy's little star of a hand making the sign for milk (opening and closing).

Smelling:  Sweet flowers on a walk around the block.  Pizza in the oven.  Lucy's little neck.

Touching: Birkenstocks on my feet. The softness and color of Lucy's fuzzy new diapers.  Sleek new cell phones at the mall. (so... what makes a phone "smart" anyway?) 

Tasting:  Poppy bagel, cream cheese.  Brie and apple on toast.  Spinach and mushroom homemade pizza.  Plum crumble.  I resisted the craving for coffee...

Five-Sense Friday

Today is Good Friday.  Along with remembering the Friday afternoon when I witnessed the death of a Lamb, I'm...

Hearing:  Giggles. Squeaks.  Scriptures.  The youth at our church laughing and having fun as we played games and had a lesson during the service.

Seeing:  Sunshine. Smiles.  Friends. Ah, friends.  Tonight, the winding roads and wonky cities of a game of Carcassonne with Clint.  The blue cover and black and white pages of my most recent read:  Surprised by Oxford.  I see Oxford in my mind's eye, and I miss it.

Smelling:  Rain. The diaper trash can (eew!  'Sposies are so much worse than cloth!). The sweet cleanness of olive oil soap during Lucy's bath.

Tasting:  Poppy bagel with cream cheese, my favorite breakfast.  Roti with cheese.  Roti with chocolate chips.  Leftover chana curry.  Spiced rum and milk.

Feeling:  Wriggling baby, on the diaper table, in the bathtub, in my arms.  Hungry.  Tired.  Tense with frustration: at circumstances and at myself for having such a short fuse these days.  Loved.  Forgiven.  Relaxed to be having fun with the man I love.

Five-Sense Friday

Is it really Friday again?!  Already?

Hearing: The rhythm of the dryer and spray of the washing machine. Melancholy music. A ticking clock above my desk.

Seeing: Lucy smiles. Baby bed head. And now, her little face relaxed in jaw-dropping sleep. Oh, those eyelashes!

Smelling: Cinnamon. Rice puffs. The last of the fall's hoarding of Delicata squash baked and scooped in tiny spoonfuls onto the table (Lucy's breakfast).

Tasting:  Cinnamon toast.  Happiness tea.

Feeling:  Smooth, chubby baby arms.  The warmth of a baby napping on my chest (Thank goodness for the Ergo Baby!  Best baby investment by a million miles!). 

Five Sense Friday

Last week, I had a migrane Monday to Thursday--the time just crawled--but this week sped by!  Lucy and I have been out and about.  Monday I was able to give a talk on my favorite sister in the faith, Julian of Norwich, for a small church group.  Tuesday Clint and I had some much needed family time at home.  Wednesday I went out to the drop-in at our Midwives.  Thursday we went to women's Bible study and to the mall.  Today we...

Saw:  Gray skies; smiles from friends and strangers (no one can resist Lucy's lovely smiling face);  the tall green trees of the UBC Endowment lands from the foggy, rain-streaked bus windows; Regent!

Heard:  Lucy stories (Oh!  Da, da, da, da, da.  Mmmmm. etc.);  the squeak of the Johnny Jump-up;  the catching-up stories of good friends.

Felt:  Powdery white flour, silky eggs in warm water, the stick of new dough, the work of kneading and pounding; the springy-smooth surface of enriched bread dough, the complexity of a 6 strand challah braid.

Smelled:  The gentle alcohol of yeast dough; the mouth watering baking.

Tasted: Fresh, warm, melt-in-your-mouth Challah.  In Regent.  On the Bus.  With my roast potato dinner.  Mmm.

Five-Sense Friday

Today I'm...

Hearing:  the periodic tap of rain drops on my bedroom window, play grunts and half cries as Lucy army crawls around her nursery floor, the hum and bump of the washing machine

Seeing:  Through the doorway, Lucy in a white tiger fleece hoodie and sweet pink leggings; a pile of laundry that grows like it's actually a living laundry-monster; my bedroom (which is no longer Lucy's bedroom!!!); a light on in every room in the house.

Smelling:  diapers; dirty dishes filling the sink; the steam from freshly cooked brown rice.

Feeling:  soft, soft baby skin; the warmth of clean whites; the well-worn keys on this computer; thesmooth covers of books as they find new places on the shelves.

Tasting:  peppermint tea and a sesame bagel with cream cheese; cherry pie; brown rice with tereyaki sauce and green beans; more cherry pie (because “Stress cannot exist in the presence of a pie.")

Five-Sense Friday

Today I'm...

Seeing: Strange dreams.  The furnace, usually sealed away with paneling and screws.  The furniture, all out of its places to make room for this look at the house's innards.  The kitchen, not quite clean after yesterday's baking.  Mess, mess, mess. TV.


Hearing: Screeching, laughing, da-da-daing, rasberry-blowing, and sometimes crying.  Right now, just breathing in the carrier on my chest.  Sleeping.


Tasting: Peanut Butter toast.  Roti with butter and cheese.  Brownies and tea.


Smelling:  Natural gas as they change the meter outside, burnt yam sugar in the bottom of the oven, chocolatey goodness and mint-lovely tea.


Feeling:  A tight ache in my muscles.  Heavy eyelids.  The weight of carrying Lucy so often.  The pressing-in of so many responsibilities and life events.  The weight of a spoon and mixing bowl in my hands.  The terry inside of oven mits.  My heart fluttering a bit in anticipation of Clint's return home after class.

Five-Sense Friday

Yesterday I was...
Seeing: Golden Alberta prairies aglow with life.  A bright gray sky, reaching to touch every horizon.  The warm grey road winding like a silver thread across the gentle rises of golden earth.  Oil-derrick-horses grazing on the fields, pulling wealth out of the deep earth.  Blackened controlled-burn fields.  Red cattle and fluffly alpaca.

Feeling: The vibrations of the steering wheel under my fingers.  The wind against the car, the prairie's life-breath, Spirit hovering over and giving life.

Hearing: Lucy's sweet, snuffly snores from the back seat.  The rustling pages of  Clint's seminary reading.  My mother-in-law's soft, cadenced voice.  Road-silence.

Tasting:  A Belize coffee, mild and bright on my tongue, a special Birthday splurge.

Smelling:  Coffee steam.  Wooly Keble College scarf.  Winter prairie freshness.


Some days the vastness of the prairies feels overpowering and alienating, but yesterday, my 29th birthday, it felt like freedom and independence (the good kind) and beauty and possibility.

Five-Sense Friday

The view from my favorite meditation spot on Galliano Island

In his book The Gift of Being Yourself, David Benner suggests taking fifteen minutes at the end of the day to meditate:  first, to read and meditate on a story from the Gospels and imagine yourself there watching Jesus in action; then, to look back on your day, letting the events and emotions wash over you without judgment and to quietly acknowledge the times when you felt God with you.

The first time I read this advice about five years ago, it felt like a drink of cool water on parched lips.  I was really burnt out by the idea of "devotions."  For years I had tried to force myself to "read my Bible daily." This phrase had acquired a buzzing cloud of connotations that plagued me--My perfectionist self felt compelled to engage intellectually, emotionally and morally with the text every day.  To learn something, feel convicted, repent and apply my new knowledge.  It was a very heavy yoke.

But imagining Jesus?  I could do that.  And thinking about my day?  I do that all the time, only I do it to judge my weaknesses.  It was so much better to look for God.  Today's Five-sense Friday is written in the spirit of this gentle remembrance.

Today I am...

Seeing: Wet white sky.  White snow slowly washing away.  Food colors: orange pumpkin, ruby beets, purple plum jam, vivid leafy green, white turnips, cream swirls in my rooibos tea. Chubby fingers grasping and pinching and eating and feeling.  More computer-glow than I ought (always more computer-glow than I ought).

Feeling:  Soft baby skin.  Slimy beets from the bottom of the produce drawer.  A cool knife for an hour of chopping.  A peeler slip catches my nail.

Smelling:  Diapers (always diapers).  The wetness of drool.  Burnt squash seeds in the bottom of the oven.  Onions and garlic (always onions and garlic). 

Tasting:  Bagel with cream cheese.  Noodles with gravy.  White wine.  Borsht.  Biscuits.  Almond pound cake. Tea-warmth, like a sleeping cat curled up on my chest.

Hearing:  "Ba, ba, ba, ba" says Lucy.  "I love you" says her Daddy to us both.  Shh, shh says the rain.  "Thank you" say our friends when their tummies are full.

Five-Sense Friday

"The Little One, part 2: Birth" coming soon.  It's been a busy couple of weeks and I'm still catching my breath.  Until then I wanted to take a minute to be present in the little things that make up this morning.

Today, I'm...

seeing: Low lights.  Pulled blinds.  Tiny closed eyes.  And, hopefully, a few more dreams to be had this morning.

hearing: Quiet.  The ticking of the clock over my desk.  The whirring of my computer’s secret innards.  Sleep laughs and grunts from the little person in the other room.

smelling:  A pungent diaper change.  My milk-face baby.  The last of last year’s cinnamon-y apple butter.

tasting: Said apple butter in my raw rolled oats with milk.  A fresh blueberry bagel.  I'm with the hobbits: one can never have too many breakfasts.

feeling: 12 pounds 3 ounces.  The coolness of our basement.  The gentle tug of a baby nursing.  Still so constantly hungry and tired.  But a little more caught up than I was yesterday.