September 11, 2013

Breathing like a baby

The sound of geese overhead, the shake and rattle of trains passing through, the warmth of earl grey tea in hand. This is the state of affairs tonight. I cleaned out my closet, packed up some books and rewired my Grandpa's old shop lamp. Temperatures dip, sweaters claim bare shoulders. The old season makes way for the new. Autumn, your quiet changes are always welcomed.

Breathe in.
Let.
Breathe out.
Go.

All too often I catch my body held tense like a coil. Did I breathe today? I must have, though I have no awareness of it. This week I have spent much time watching a new baby girl sleep. Her inhalation is full and her whole body moves to circulate her good work with each draw. Exhale baby. It is a wonderful reminder to be mindful of my own body's good work and to help along the process with deep and even breaths. Mabel reminds me of many things. She is three months old. When her momma steps out to do her own thing, I am left to make sure this wonderbabe lives on. She is a good sleeper. Today on the other hand, she felt completely abandoned by her milk maiden upon waking and she squalled and kicked with impressive strength. It wasn't me she wanted to swaddle, sing and bounce. That was an interesting moment when both Mabel and I realized that I couldn't give her what she needed. In all my years working with kids not my own, today was the first time I didn't know what to do.

FIND SOME BOOBS! So we did.

It's a new season so naturally I have taken on new work with a new family now that my friend Leo has moved away. Oh how I miss his little body. What I would give to put him to bed tonight. Plenty. Alas, he has moved forward and so must I. This is the hardest part of being a nanny. I can't help but fall in love again and again.

Someday when I have my own host of swaddled squallers, I'll shake my head at the days I used to get paid to be someone's personal organizer. Then I'll think of Mabel, Sadie and the Leo's and all the hours I spent watching them hard at sleep and I'll remind myself to breathe in and out once again.

Let.
Go.

Huy shot this of me after a late night ride last weekend. This is how I feel today: Rather reflective

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