When my kid is sick I find myself doing all these things my own mother used to do. I set her up in this little picture of what I hope will help-- there's a small bowl of apple slices, a glass of water, a stuffed toy to hug, a kitchen pot just in case the breakfast toast comes up. She sleeps in socks, under a pile of pillows and blankets, with the mid-day light of Thursday filling up the room.
Sometimes I feel so completely inadequate as a mom. Maybe we all do.
When I was trying to learn Italian I remember someone telling me that you couldn't do it by translating in your head everything into English. You had to just start thinking in Italian.
So uccello isn't bird. Uccello is just uccello.
I think about that a lot.
Motherhood is its own foreign language, but maybe it's something like Latin-- and some days I can't quite crack the code or get into the flow of it because it only really exists in poetry. So I'm making up all these things to fill in the gaps as I go along, and just trying to think poetically instead of logically.
So I'll hold your foot while you rest, and know that somehow it helps. Later, we'll do puzzles to help reduce your fever.
Sometimes I feel so completely inadequate as a mom. Maybe we all do.
When I was trying to learn Italian I remember someone telling me that you couldn't do it by translating in your head everything into English. You had to just start thinking in Italian.
So uccello isn't bird. Uccello is just uccello.
I think about that a lot.
Motherhood is its own foreign language, but maybe it's something like Latin-- and some days I can't quite crack the code or get into the flow of it because it only really exists in poetry. So I'm making up all these things to fill in the gaps as I go along, and just trying to think poetically instead of logically.
So I'll hold your foot while you rest, and know that somehow it helps. Later, we'll do puzzles to help reduce your fever.