I'm Walking, Yes Indeed
It's the most widely used 'working mother' cliche - yesterday while I was at work, Jake took his first steps. When I picked him up, Miss Jackie casually said "He took four steps today." Like it was any other day, like she was telling me it had rained, like she might've forgot to mention that, oh yes, your son reached a milestone today while you were at work Googling college classmates.
My friend Joslyn had a good point. She said they shouldn't have told me. They should've waited until I said he had walked.
In college I had a French poetry professor I really admired (she was French, not the poetry). She used a phrase - shocks of time - to describe those moments, nano-moments really, that you remember. They may be significant (I have one from my wedding, just a few seconds during our vows, when I remember looking Bryon right in the eye and thinking "Don't cry, remember this moment.") or they may be insignificant (standing under a tree somewhere with Bryon while my mom took our picture) but for one reason or another they stick with you.
We've known that Jake was getting close to walking. In August he started standing without help and just recently he was able to push himself up from a 'tripod.' So the past few mornings when he's been up at 5 a.m. and we have a couple of quiet hours together before everyone else gets up, I've been hoping it would happen. That there on the living room floor, me in my pink jammies that Sam loves, Jake in his faded hand-me-downs, he'd take his first step. Into my widespread arms of course. That would be my newest 'shock of time.' That moment, frozen, perfect for repeating to Jake the teenager, Jake the dad.
But instead, my 'shock of time' will be standing at daycare with Jake on my left hip grabbing at the pumpkin mobiles overhead while Miss Jackie looks up at me half-heartedly from her rocking chair and says, "He took four steps today."
My friend Joslyn had a good point. She said they shouldn't have told me. They should've waited until I said he had walked.
In college I had a French poetry professor I really admired (she was French, not the poetry). She used a phrase - shocks of time - to describe those moments, nano-moments really, that you remember. They may be significant (I have one from my wedding, just a few seconds during our vows, when I remember looking Bryon right in the eye and thinking "Don't cry, remember this moment.") or they may be insignificant (standing under a tree somewhere with Bryon while my mom took our picture) but for one reason or another they stick with you.
We've known that Jake was getting close to walking. In August he started standing without help and just recently he was able to push himself up from a 'tripod.' So the past few mornings when he's been up at 5 a.m. and we have a couple of quiet hours together before everyone else gets up, I've been hoping it would happen. That there on the living room floor, me in my pink jammies that Sam loves, Jake in his faded hand-me-downs, he'd take his first step. Into my widespread arms of course. That would be my newest 'shock of time.' That moment, frozen, perfect for repeating to Jake the teenager, Jake the dad.
But instead, my 'shock of time' will be standing at daycare with Jake on my left hip grabbing at the pumpkin mobiles overhead while Miss Jackie looks up at me half-heartedly from her rocking chair and says, "He took four steps today."
posted by Romine Family at 11:12 AM
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