Friday, May 13, 2011

Teeth falling out

Babes in arms. I would give anything for babes in arms. The mental separation of self and the unitasking of physical need. Now that I live with this 6yo girl andd 4 yo boy it is all existential. I type here and am AWAY. And, I measure away. Sometimes I ask their permission to check my blackberry or use the computer for my writing activity. But really it's not like nap time or the separation from a baby. That first set of growth if different before the teeth fall out.

But time is out. We struggle between my limits on their TV screen time and theirs on my laptop time. It is mostly that they wonder, I am sure, what am I making? Is it some sort of digital cookie?? Do they want one?? Is it their business, and I can't say no. What if she read it?

And that is one more reason why it seems sensible that these are my last posts. I have always admired the exceptional bloggers who can write a digital story in their posts, and I am not one. I drift more to the reportage of stories of others as I lack the art and alchemy of words you will find in the faithful memorists like bon or Nora or Claraor... -- see blogroll.

At six I give first my girl and then my boy -- give back -- their story.

Reading this post last month from bon I never felt closer to encapsulating the gratitude I have for discovering this communications space back in 2005. To have intersected the dialogue to help me through instead of books or kaffeeklatsches.

I wrote on that blog post this comment.
Six.

With that — and the teeth, like you say, all the stuff of babies’ and their human making falls through fingers. At six the squeeze of babes we were so responsible goes away somewhat to a more horrible frustration of the independence we crave so long for them. It has been a tough, aggravating year… The sort of year I pined for a time when my arms ached for hours of feeding and calming and unending latching of me and her (then him). I was so tired then. I thought this would be the dream, something easier. Let them walk. Feed themselves. Tell their stories. But wrong I was.


Weaning and teething -- I have been known to harp on my friends. When they fuss about the right pre-school, or daycare space or sleep routine I remind that these children will be our children all our lives. But that said from a certain age their stories are no longer our stories. And when I watch these children make their stories unfold I am glad I do it on the foundation of parent storytelling.

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4 Comments:

Anonymous Bon said...

oh, oh. there are teeth loose at my house too, and endings all around.

still. they break my heart. xo.

9:47 PM  
Blogger L. said...

Were their stories EVER our stories, really?

10:23 PM  
Anonymous clara said...

I've had this open for a week. What to say.

"Is it some sort of digital cookie??" made me smile. I think that about my kids too. "What mysterious thing is she staring at all the time, what thing is more interesting than ME."

Their stories are always - have always been - their own but we tell them until they are able to do it themselves. Or, I do. Or, I try to.

The teeth are so evocative. That part of you that you were born with, it's gone.

7:29 AM  
Anonymous Glendale termites pest control said...

I have a 4yr old and there are times when I am working, he will be standing beside my chair and asking me to play with him or watch tv with him.Then I will realize that time will immediately pass us by and the day will come when he won't ask me anymore to spend time with him. Then I am gripped with sadness, with loneliness that all too soon, my baby will become a man. I suddenly missed him. I make it a point now to spend time with him and create so many memories that I will look back to when the time comes that he won't need by his side anymore.

12:39 PM  

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