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It’s such a stereotype. But there really is a moment when suddenly they’re not a baby anymore.
You open up your phone to look for particular photo and notice it’s automatically made a memories album of your kid. So you click and watch, and realize you missed the moment, whenever that was. It’s a weird shock that seems so obvious, it’s like you didn’t get to say goodbye to a friend you always knew had to leave.
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Lying in bed for ages thinking “why can’t I get to sleep”, then I finally realize every muscle in my body, every fiber of my being is tense.
How does it surprise me every time? A mindful body scan usually does the trick.
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When I was a kid, probably around 5, I distinctly remember this moment where I was lying in my twin bed staring at the doorway and suddenly thinking, “How do you fall asleep? … I don’t know how to fall asleep!”
I realized that I had never actually experienced the moment of falling asleep (of course not, I was half-asleep at that point) and started overthinking it. It became this process I didn’t understand, and then I was just lying there wide-eyed not understanding and confused about what to do next.
I’m not sure if it was that night or a few nights later, but I eventually asked my mom how to fall asleep. She looked at me and said, “… Um, just close your eyes?” I did, and to me the next day, it seemed like I had fallen asleep instantly. It felt like a revelation, that there was such a simple answer.
I sometimes notice nowadays, that moment between wakefulness and sleep.
Every once in a while I notice my thoughts getting weirder and more abstract and suddenly think, this is it. It’s quite an incredible state, nothing like it. I guess it’s lucid dreaming, but it’s so short… I try to stay in that state but it’s almost impossible, thinking about it wakes me up and leaning in to it makes me fall asleep.
Sometimes I get in to the same state upon waking, but unfortunately that’s usually because I’m coming out of a nightmare.
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B is learning that he has influence on his surroundings, the world isn’t just something that has to happen to him.
It started maybe a month or so ago when I was gently leaning him back to put him in his sleep sack. He suddenly threw his hand out and caught himself, preventing me from lying him down. Actually, even a bit before that he started pushing away his bottle when he didn’t want any more.
Now he’s grabbing at the pages in his board books, trying to turn them.
It’s pretty fun to watch.
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pink ice plant flowers, a bee, concrete breeze blocks painted white, bromeliads, air plants, glue sticks, wicker chair back, lemons, limes, my blanket, sea hare, cut strawberries, mud, asphalt, flaking kick ball backboard, eucalyptus, AYSO jersey patterns, Vons ice cream, sand, marine layer, gross beige rug, 70s beach blanket, sunscreen, Xacto knife, vorco board, bright blue sweatshirt, jelly pens, unopened peonies, rope, bird wallpaper, food dye in water, pancake batter drips, continuous form paper, chain link fence, shiny brass, plastic oscillating fan, dirty terrazzo flooring
wanting to do something drastic to yourself
tattoos, shaving your head, suicide
out of all the good, where does this feeling come from? what frustration are we trying to embody?
also, nostalgia
it’s masochistic, purposefully reliving unreal events that will always feel superior to the present day, real life
we forget so much
oblivious viciousness of childhood
glass-block walls, stucco of all sorts, white wrought iron, fake wood panelling, ivy, guppies, anenomies, four square, gloved hands, twisted hair wraps, clover, tadpoles, blue pools, mustard, Pleiades, *big* spider, unshaven legs, long hair, freckles, sheets in the sun, wisteria, terracotta tiles, reflective glossy black, ceramic bear, brick wall, water pump
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Found in one of the old notebooks that I’m slowly de-cluttering.
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light blue stucco
navy blue shutters
kitchen window like a fishbowl, or a porthole
one floor, mostly
mom splitting her knee open on the brick stairs up to the front door
pots & pans band
dad’s lime green motorcycle, briefly
agapanthus & jade plants
bougainvillea
the scariest palm tree
garage always full, but never the car
where did mom keep her drawing board?
huge glass sliding door at the back
games through the wicker rocking chair
cinder blocks and chain link
ice plant covering the hill to the creek behind the house
sliding closet doors, the paint would stick
neighbors with the scary Halloween ghost
Zeke & Aileen, and the toys they made for us
white painted brick surrounding the fireplace that we rarely used
– – –
blue stucco and blue shutters again,
but this time with white wrought iron
two floors now
wisteria taking over at the back
parents’ brass bed frame, with ceramic decorations on the spindles
mom and her study, wooden artboard and captain’s chair
endless stacks of continuous form paper
tins of colored pencils, meticulously organized by hue
AOL and computer games
the oven that went baroom
Sega Genesis behind the couch
Brett was way better
possom in the wood pile under the lemon and lime trees
the water main broke, water gushing down the street
jumping over the water to get to school
Mr. and Mrs. Redlitz next door
the not-so-nice lady on the other side
Teddy & Dmitri
games barefoot on the berm
until I stepped on a bee, and dog poo
Cassiopeia, Pleiades, Big & Little Dippers
Pleiades was mine, my little tornado
people jumped off that cliff sometimes, but we didn’t hear much about it; probably on purpose
falling about 5 feet on to my back on the rocks after trying to climb the cliff instead of using the path
I was lucky, it was one of the first times I really felt lucky
it could have been so much further
the grass at the top felt incredible
there’s an edible plant that grows on the cliffs and tastes sour, dewy and pink
and mustard, and fennel
owls, sometimes; gulls, always
still dream about walking down the storm drain, through the rocks and down to the bay
not sure it’s possible
we were always told to keep well back from the cliff edge, it could be soft even when it’s been dry
it was usually dry
the road leading to a friend’s house near the school fell in to the sea not long before we moved away
the rollercoaster road near the best tidepools was always changing
we didn’t go there often
countless tadpoles in the storm drain
one day we weren’t allowed to play in the storm drain
it didn’t seem like anything had changed in the little tadpole pools
never once saw the green flash
running my fingers through the sand just after the wave recedes, feeling millions of sandcrabs
mile swims around the buoys
mile runs in blistering, soft sand
Neil, a first crush
his real name is Donald
he was the only faster swimmer
a ray in the shallow water, briefly, before I can show anyone
a vivid purple jellyfish
dolphins in the bay, rarely
don’t dive in head first, always wade out and check the levels first
how to brace someone’s neck if you’re waiting for first aid
don’t touch a seal, it’s probably sick
don’t step on kelp bulbs barefoot, there might be something sharp inside
don’t step on the black “rocks”, they’re chunks of hot tar
cold water didn’t hurt my ears
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