Sunday, July 23, 2017

Saved By Curls And Kisses


I woke up this morning filled with full-on Sunday sadness and everything hurt from my feet to my feelings and I thought, "I need those babies to come and save me," so I offered a few waffles and some bacon in trade for that salvation and it worked.
As it generally does.
Maggie is in full toddler bloom and her hair this morning was so curly with the humidity. She is just the poster child for a darling baby girl and she ran about the house, playing with all of her favorite things and wanting her Boppa and kissing a picture of August on the phone and riding her horse.


When she gets on the horse she wants me to hand her the baby doll or a book. I do not know why. She carries them a few leagues through cowgirl land and then unceremoniously drops them and rides on. A little while after this, Lily and I got on the bed and snuggled with her and we played patty cake and she nursed some. She still loves her nursies and she laid down and tucked herself under her mama's wing and and we both loved on her and she reminded me so much of the way her mama used to nurse when she was a baby. 

It was a lovely few hours and the boys hugged me a lot and we fed waffles and watermelon to the new baby chicks who are WILD little things which is good because maybe that will give them a better chance to survive. And then Lily and the children left to go home and I kissed them all in the car after they were strapped in except for Gibson who said, "I already kissed you," and Maggie said, "Bye-bye! Bye-Bye!"

We got to talk to August on the phone today too, who told us that he peed in the potty again. And went paddling on the river. Well, he told us with help from his mama. I told him I wanted to kiss him and Jessie reported that he was kissing the phone. And then he wanted his Boppa. 
Oh, how I miss him! I can't wait to see him and Magnolia together again. 

So that's been my day, mostly, and there was a nap and I'm going to cook some scallops and shrimp for our supper. Last night's snapper was practically perfect and Mr. Moon stopped at the seafood market on his way home yesterday and bought us the scallops and shrimp. 

I've been listening to a Paul Theroux novel (Mother Land) and I'm not sure why I'm slogging through it. Here's a review of it by Steven King and it's a pretty damn accurate review in my opinion. The book is endless, it's mean-spirited, it's wicked and cruel and yet, it's sort of fun. Well, not fun exactly. But as I read it, I think of my own family and recognize much and then I realize that none of my brothers and I have really been in touch since our own mother died and if nothing else, it is an excellent study in how not to be the mother of grown children.
Or children of any age, for that matter. 
Or a grandmother. 
Or a human being. 

And anyway, another Sunday and I survived (at least up to this point) and Nicey and Camellia are back on the porch, doing a little personal grooming and wondering if I'll give them some cat food.

No, is the answer to that. 

Bless their optimistic hearts. 
Bless all our hearts. 

Love...Ms. Moon




14 comments:

  1. Those babies can turn a Sunday all the way around. I spent today with my baby and even though she's grown she still has the power to save Sunday. Maggie looks like all those classic storybook pictures of beautiful babies with their apple cheeks and rosebud lips and blond curls. She is darling.

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    1. Yes on all of that. And our babies are always our babies.
      And beautiful.

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  2. Ah Ms Moon, I thought of you this morning being Sunday, and having my own challenges ahead of me. How well I know how the grandbabies can save the day; i love that -- grandbaby salvation! That Magnolia is a wonderful, beautiful child, love her name. Wish you could see my one year old Daniel who staggers around like a drunk with wide set legs, drunk on a high of moving around this world on two legs like his big brother. I love to hear you talk about your grands. Bless your heart, Ms Moon, and now on to Monday . . . Becky

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    1. I love that stage of learning-to-walk when they look like little drunks. Determined little drunks.
      And how quickly they become so able and spry on those two legs.

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  3. Good lord that photo of Maggie on her horse clutching her baby is radiant. It could have been taken anywhere from 1950 up until now. It could be an oil painting. It SHOULD be an oil painting. Timeless. Wow. Love

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    1. You know, there's a picture of me as a little girl, older than Magnolia is now, but still quite young, and in the picture I'm wearing a brand new cowgirl hat and, I think, a holster and gun. And, to round out the picture, I am clutching my baby doll to my tiny girl bosom. This picture makes me think of that. And I love it.

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  4. I can't tell you how happy it makes me that Lily is still nursing. Something I will miss doing until the day I die. Seriously. It makes me sad to know I will never do it again.

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    1. You know what, Birdie? Me too! On all of that. And I'll tell you something else- it sort of breaks my heart that I can't nurse my grand babies. Does that sound weird? Well, too bad. I think that back a long, long time ago, it was probably standard procedure. After you've nursed your own children, it is simply instinct to want to put a crying infant to the breast. I wonder if I could lactate again? I'll never know, but I wonder.

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    2. I know a woman who breastfed her adopted son. She had to use some sort of system with a tube that delivered formula but she did end up producing actual milk. So there ya go. And I have no doubt grandmothers did bring their grandchildren to her breast. It wasn't unusual for a grandmother to be having babies the same time as their daughters. One of my great x4 grandmothers had her first at 17 and her last at 46 (dear god!). She easily could have nursed her grandbabies if need be.

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  5. I bet you could lactate so can men and there have been wet nurses since the beginning of everything. I nursed my son until he was three though by then it was only twice a day mostly for comfort and I caught a lot of crap for it but I trusted that he would be finished when he was finished and that was that. Love

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    1. I have read that the Mongolians of all ages and sexes offer breasts to babies and that breast milk is considered to be the elixir of life to them. I nursed all of my kids for years and yes, they are finished when they are finished and people who don't like that idea need to shut the fuck up. It's none of their damn business.

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    2. That's what I told em. Love you Leo Queen.

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  6. I have never liked Paul Theroux. I've read a couple of his books and they always give me bad vibes. I think he's kind of a boring writer, honestly.

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  7. Ah Ms Moon, I thought of you this morning being Sunday, and having my own challenges ahead of me.

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Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.