Thursday, March 16, 2017

JUST LISTENING

I dress Everly the way I want to dress and am dismayed I still can't find that lemon tee in my size.  
Her cousin got into the lipstick that morning:)


There's a kids CD that has become a permanent fixture in our van since summer.  We got it from our friends, and I thought I'd give it a try since it seemed less creepy than a lot of the traditional nursery rhymes.  Especially the one about the old lady swallowing the fly.  Ick.  Now every time I start the engine, though, I cringe a little bit as the same songs about "big A" and "little a" marching down the street start up again.  These songs have become the soundtrack to my dreams.  I guess it's only natural after you've heard a song for the 50th bajillion time.  But Everly seems to like them and they are pretty catchy, so the CD stays on repeat.

The other day, I pulled into a parking spot at work and noticed that I had kept the CD playing even after I had dropped Everly off at daycare.  Normally I switch to the radio or a podcast, but those songs have become so synonymous with her in the car with me that I wanted to listen a little while longer.

Not humming or singing along.  Just listening.

I find myself listening more these days and wanting to talk, or maybe it's share, less.  I've started several posts for this blog, but just haven't felt the urge to finish any of them.  In the same vein, I've begun multiple photo books and printed off pictures in an effort to continue documenting every mundane and momentous moment with Everly, but seem to just stop after a day or two.  These things feel like clouds hanging over me, following me around and reminding me I have unfinished business.  But I like this season of quiet.

Mainly because it allows me to hear a little voice in the backseat say "buh-bye" a 100 times as she waves to every car we pass.  As Everly is finding her voice, I find my voice becoming quieter.  Not in a bad or sad way.  Just in a way that quiets everything down so I can listen more.

I listen for the sound of the thud of a book she throws out of her crib and the inevitable cry that follows as she tells me she's ready to get up in the morning.

I listen for her little feet, stomp stomp stomping as she chases me around the house.

I listen for her infectious giggle turn into uncontrollable belly laughs as I tickle her.

I listen for those words that aren't quite words yet as she tells me a story so emphatically you'd think she'd seen a unicorn a daycare.

I listen as she whispers nonsense in my ear and then pulls my head close to hers so that our foreheads touch just so.


And when the day is done, and I sink into bed exhausted, I lay still a bit and listen to it all over again in my head.  



And then of course, "big A, little a, marching down the street" starts up again as I drift off to sleep.




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