Agabang in Anyang

The strangest thing just happened. Dan is working late tonight, and Joash and I were having our pre-bed cuddle, looking out the window at our dark city in the rain. For whatever reason, I decided I'd snuggle until he wouldn't let me anymore, and, before I knew it, he had snuggled himself to sleep. We make liberal use of the breastfeeding in this family. I never saw any reason not to (I don't adhere to any of the parenting religions: whispering, montesorring, attaching. I adhere to getting through the days). I like the proximity, the ease, the regular and gentle admonition to take a break. Mastitis taught me early on to welcome breaks or suffer the consequences. Anyhow, I can count generously on one hand the number of bedtimes he's seen unassisted by breastfeeding, and now on one finger how many times it happened here at home and not in transit after an evening out.

And of course I cried. He is growing up, and tonight I felt it for the first time the way people are always talking about. It reminded me so much of the morning naps we'd take in Hapjeong when his whole body fit on half of mine, how sweet they were without fail, regardless of how many cups of chocolate I'd needed that day or how many bathroom sob breaks I'd taken, how many pleas I'd made to Dan or my mother about my ineptitude. I can barely remember any of that already.

Last year I read The Pearl by Steinbeck. It was small enough to cart around everywhere, and I'd read it when Joash and I were sequestered in some dirty bathroom stall for breastfeeding. I wanted those magic words to whisper in his ear and calm him, the Song of the Family to keep us all from harm. I wanted to feel like a real and primal mother. And I didn't then, but I think now I'm really starting to. I know this kid. It feels natural to nurture him, even as he outgrows his physical need for me. We have the same sense of humor; we like the same foods. We're so related. Until a week from now when everything changes again, but right now I'm feeling good about feeling good.


Turns out sleeping babies are what's at rainbows' ends. It makes perfect sense.


He spent the whole day cooking something up, mostly laundry, books, and cupcake liners.


A laugh break.


And back to the grind, dumping, filling, moving. He loves this big pot, which, honestly, is what I use to boil diapers when they need stripped. And that one time I used it to steam cinnamon buns. The diapers are clean when I boil them; it's not totally gross!


It was the perfect indoor activity for a foggy, rainy, drafty day.