Everything Is A Dog

the beginning of language skills

Following a strongly pointed finger is a very clear “DOG!” or sometimes “GAH!” To which I reply with an excited “yes!” or a shaky headed and low to high pitched “noooo.” Everything is a dog. And while this is absolutely incorrect, she enjoys that she gets a response from those around her when she voices her opinion of every living and nonliving being. She feels heard, even more than before her language skills began to create english words. Her eyes follow the movement of our lips as she focuses on downloading the template of each of the words in the not-so-foreign language everyone is speaking. Not-so-foreign because she has begun understanding the words coming out of our mouths. If I ask her to grab a diaper to change her butt, she moves in that direction; sometimes picking up a diaper and throwing it on the floor, sometimes bringing it over, but oftentimes walking in that direction before getting smacked with her short term remembery loss (yes, I meant to type it like that), and finding something more interesting to do. I’ve begun to compare her ever-developing brain with Dory’s. The baby Dory that is still in her parents care, far from the open ocean, and trying to remember why the undertow is such a terrible thing.

Babe is practically running in her soft-sole Amazon moccasins. She’s bending down and getting closer to the ground to look under things. She’s sharing her toys and her ABC (Already Been Chewed) food, leaving anyone else at the table with a quickly fleeting appetite. She’s beginning to find ways to get herself back to sleep in the night and sleeping for longer stretches of time. She’s loving the taste of water and while the doctor (for some odd reason) told me that I should begin giving cow’s milk instead of breastmilk (to which I declined), she still greatly enjoys nursing throughout the day and night. I think I’ll enjoy this for as long as I possibly can.

I’ve been beginning to feel some burnout. Mommy burnout. Life burnout. Work burnout. Trying to keep up with a social life, a work life, a family life, side hustles, passions. My neck is sore and my stomach is irritated, both asking me to take a breather. My household tasks are asking for attention, though it could be a lot worse with a little one. I haven’t written on this publication in a week. I haven’t read more than a few pages weekly of any of my books in months and majority of my diet has consisted of quick meals of meat and starch. That starch mostly being Bong-Bongs — if you remember what that’s a synonym for. I haven’t had a true vacation in more than a year now. This approaching feeling of burnout is reminding me to go at my own pace, to follow my own path and intuition. It’s offering me new ways to romanticize the mundanities associated with being responsible and having my priorities straight.

In this remembrance of romance, I can’t help but think about a movie I found and watched in the height of the pandemic, La Bella Verte — a French movie banned in many countries including the one of my current residence, United States of America. It approaches the modern world with a satirical lens, displaying the over-complexities of urban life, and contrasts this destructive way of living by displaying a more natural way of being rooted in the soil, play, community and connectedness. I watched a lot of these kinds of movies during the time of our lives so rule driven and unbearable. I craved tribal visuals, simple living, slow living, minimalist living. So, while I feel myself getting overwhelmed with the complexities of this phase of my life, I hope to connect to the ground, to the sky, the moon and remember the beauty of everyday things.

My dad somehow knew I needed some encouragement in this very minimal way. He bought me a book called The Beauty of Everyday Things for Mother’s day. Just in receiving this gift, I felt that there is hope to continue on and find peace in my current circumstances. As aforementioned, I have read a lot less of this book than I would like. Which makes me wonder how I can find more space in my day to day to allow for nourishing my growing craving for connection to self.

I am almost 13 months postpartum, and I’m still trying to figure this shit out. Wish me luck.

THANK YOU. THANK YOU. THANK YOU.

Abby xx