How is it that Eoin already finds burps, farts, and sneezes hilarious?

My days with Eoin have finally evolved into a routine. As in, I can count on his naps.

His naps have settled into consistent stretches of me-time which are indescribably precious. So precious, in fact, that on the days were I have pushed our walks a little long and Eoin is flirting with the idea of treacherously swapping a luxurious nap at home in his crib for a mini-snooze in the stroller, I have no qualms about racing back to the house, singing at the top of my lungs, rattling the stroller, and in general, acting like a total crazy lady - whatever it takes to preserve my me-time.

The downside to this regular nap routine is, of course, that routine is sometimes synonymous with sameness and rigidity. If I want to preserve his naps and my me-time, then our days have to revolve around that goal. There is only so much that you can fit into the short time between naps - a time that must also include diaper changes, snacks, a bottle, and, unless I am feeling unusually selfish, playtime outside of the stroller. This has come to mean that we are home most of the time, aside from our daily trip to the park.

Don't get me wrong - I love our days together. Only, the daily trip to the park begins to lose a little of its sparkle if it isn't occasionally supplanted with something more adventurous. For this reason, weekends are invaluable opportunities to get out of the house, out of the neighborhood, and preferably, out of the city.

There is nothing like time spent in nature with my husband and my baby to recharge my batteries for another week of nap and non-nap intervals. If we have spent Saturday or Sunday in fresh air and living spaces, then on Monday, I have a refreshed perspective for cherishing my days with my baby (days that are becoming all too short as the end of my maternity looms) and a renewed energy for creativity and productiveness during me-time. And on a weeknight, when Ashley and I are tired and cleaning the kitchen, I can look at my husband and remember that, last Saturday or Sunday, we were by the ocean, or in the forest, and we were laughing, in love.

I love weekends.

For me, as mother, nothing could make me happier, and nothing could be of greater comfort, than watching my husband with my baby and seeing that he is loved, loved, loved, and knowing that even my love for my baby is no stronger.

A friend of mine recently advised me to do some things apart from Eoin. I had to admit that I rarely take any time for just me. When Ashley is around, I usually want to be around too. And when he isn't, there is only me in this city to care for Eoin.

This Saturday afternoon, though, I decided to follow my friend's advice - I went to see the Eat Pray Love movie with a girlfriend. Walking briskly to make it there on time, it felt so nice to swing my arms, free from a baby or a stroller! I held my shoulders back, my poor shoulders that are usually curled inwards from the weight of my baby, and the weight of my responsibilities. On the skytrain, I stood tall and solitary in the crowd. I wondered, behind my sunglasses, if anyone noticing me would guess that I was a mother. I held my family like a secret, close to my chest. Look at me, I mused, pretending to be a single, childless woman!

Arriving home, however, I was instantly Mommy again. Ashley had a jam booked for the evening, so he was eager to hand off the baby and rush out. I held out my arms, and Eoin grappled into me with his whole body - my little monkey. Ashley had Eoin's supper all ready, and as I sat him down to feed him right away, Eoin laughed into my eyes. I think, at the same time, we were both thinking afresh, "What a lovely face you have!"

After supper, I hopped into the bath with Eoin. Then I wrapped us both in towels, and then I coated us both in his baby cream. Next, I got us both dressed in our pyjamas, and I settled us into the nursing chair for Eoin's bedtime bottle. Aahhh. Getting away had felt good, but being back felt better.

It took Eoin fifteen minutes to finish his bottle. For fifteen minutes, we snuggled in silence as he drank, and I let my mind wander back to the movie I had just watched. I had seen the main character living four separate lives: one, married and miserable in New York City; another, as a single woman in Italy, rich with friends and simple pleasures; a third, austere and emotionally stripped-down, life in India; and a fourth life, falling in love and smiling from her liver in idyllic Bali. One person, in one year, experienced all these different ways of living life. In fact, all over the world, people are living out their lives, and every single one is different than mine.

It makes me wonder: why can't I figure out a different life - one that allows me to be with Eoin while he is little? Among all of life's permutations, why does my path seem to have rails, steering me mercilessly away from my baby? And I think, if only I was more creative...if only I was braver...I could derail.

Because, of all the lives I have lived, my life as Eoin's mom has felt the rightest. That's why, on the skytrain, I feel like I am impersonating a solitary person, instead of feeling, at home, that I am impersonating a mother. That's why it is so odious to me that in three months, I am going to paying some woman to impersonate me, while I go impersonate an energy marketer.

But maybe the time away from Eoin will be good for us? Because it will make our time together that much sweeter, because it will keep our faces ever-lovely? Maybe, but the gamble feels mighty risky to me. Right now, when Ashley isn't around, there is only me in this city to care for Eoin. And that's the way I like it.

Little Eoin, without trying,
has somehow been slowing prying
open doors once firmly shut
and nudging me out of my rut.

Five days a week I could be found
At the park, walking round and round.
But never did I stop and pass
some time relaxing on the grass.

With my son, I feel more free
to linger 'neath a shady tree.
The park - once a place for passing through -
belongs to me now, and Eoin too.

And that's just one of many places
where my baby has opened spaces.
Now suddenly there's lots to do
and many friends, instead of few.

Mommies have so much to share
with other moms, and we all care
to hear about the trials and joys
that come with raising girls and boys.

All these women I never knew
are in my life, and Eoin's too.
I've found a village to raise my son
and make the journey much more fun.

And lastly, Eoin has tapped a well,
unleashed a voice with a story to tell.
I'm writing now, like never before.
What's next, beyond this open door?

Today could have been a very bad day, if it hadn't been so gloriously windy. It was the kind of summer day that wakes you up with the noise of whipping leaves in the trees and of blinds banging against the windows. The kind of day that snaps back and forth from sun to shadow as the clouds race across the sky.
Unfortunately, I cannot say that it was wind in the leaves and the blinds that woke me up this morning. Rather, it was Ashley's shrill alarm (the volume was accidentally left on blast) and, hot on its heels, baby squeals and the drum beat of Eoin's feet on the crib rungs. It was 5:30 am - a harsh hour when one was late getting to bed, and up several times during the night. And thus began a day of Awake-Eoin - the baby who never sleeps, son of the mother who, consequently, also never sleeps, and never gets a thing done..
On top of that, with the countdown to our wedding now under three weeks, my face has decided to break out in violent, fiery pimples. It is a mess. Today, I was a mess.
But, luckily, the wind saved me. I love a windy day. It makes me feel so lively and healthy; so oxygenated, I guess. It's like the air is pushing its way into my body of its own accord, inflating my lungs, buoying me up.
During one of Eoin's lightning quick naps, I did manage to get clothes on the line, and it was wonderful! The clothes were flapping back and forth in the sun, and I thought happily of how quickly they would dry. It was a perfect day to hang clothes on the line.
And when Eoin woke from that lightning quick nap, I was distraught until I, in desperation, packed him into the stroller and headed to the park. What a perfect day to go to the park! The wind was whipping everything up - the trees were dancing, the dogs were cavorting, the lake was rippling. Such a riot of energy. Plus, the temperature was a comfortable jeans-and-tee-shirt degree and the grass was dry for sitting.
Eoin and I sat under a birch tree, and all my tired, overwhelmed, pimply troubles were whisked away. We read a Spot book, he played with grass and sticks, I played with my camera...we had a grand time. And, afterwards, the rush of air did what fresh air always does: it put my baby to sleep! I got home and got supper made before he woke up...thank you, Wind!
What's extra special about today is that, in Vancouver, you almost never get windy days like this, and you almost never see birch trees. It was a little piece of Newfoundland, served up special for me and my baby!
I am reminded of another quote from Sherry, my friend Heather's mom: "I am a hollow reed; my troubles blow through me like the wind." Thank heavens for wind.