UpOrDown

Back when JJ was little I remember these bipolar swaths of time where for weeks, Dada was the unrivaled favorite.  There was an interminable era when I was expected to answer to Dada.  Then I’d unknowingly surge from behind and leave him in my dust as the most adored.

Let’s just say, Mama is currently the global superpower.  I’m ahead in the medal count.  I am the Michael Phelps of Mommies.  I probably need to stop watching Olympic gymnastics till 11:30pm…

Both of my boys are presently in a place where they must inhabit the exact same postage stamp sized piece of earth that I occupy.  If I’m standing at a counter, one must wedge oneself into the imperceptible sliver of space and divorce me from any possibly productive activity.  It’s like jujitsu just to get a fork near my face.  My lap is the origin of endless concealed conflicts— chubby feet discreetly pushing the other toward a precipice.  Jealous elbows, strategic knees, artful ploys to take up primo real estate.

I’m trying to basque in my assuredly short-lived popularity.  Savoring the mornings when Jacob has crawled into our bed, turns to me and whispers, “You’re my best friend, Mama.”  Reveling in Nathaniel’s little bottom-lipped kisses, the way he lays his head on my shoulder, and the new pleading “UpOrDown.”  (That always means “up,” despite the implied choice.)

As Heidi Klum puts it, “Een parendhood, vuhn day you ahre een and duh next, you ahre oudt.”  Yeah, she said that.  That’s a German accent by the way.