Number Four and The Help just left

I am plus a baby

minus a mother

Again.

___

We have a new baby.

There are tell tale signs. The most patent of these being when I pushed him out. So. . . I'm pretty sure.

Here are some others:

As predicted, my belly is not big and tight any more, it is big and gushy.

I sleep really well now - but only for about three hours at a time.

My kids have watched Matilda 26 times in one week.

We have done no lessons in three weeks.

I sit in my rocker for hours every day.

I have read three books in three weeks.

I don't go to church anymore.

___

Here is the sure sign that the mother is gone - the MOTHER - the I can do anything despite being sixty something and in pain most of the time MOTHER:

Tears.

That's the sure sign that she is gone.

The airport scene was awful. Since Cecily was pretty much resigned to having lost me as a person who could do anything for her over the month that Nana was here, I was pretty sure parting would be most painful for her. When I pulled the car up to the drop-off curb the tears started, but not for Cecily. Nana cried which made Jonah cry, and Caroline cry, but not Cecily.

Cecily turned her head. She wouldn't say goodbye, she wouldn't give Nana a hug. Her eyes were confused and filled with tears she would not let spill over. I suppose she thought if she wouldn't say good bye, Nana wouldn't go.

I got out to hug my Mom and steal from her little frame any emotional strength she might have in reserve to fortify myself for the remainder of the day. My first day of me and four kids by myself. After having her here for a month, letting go was difficult.

I thought it was difficult for me, but when I looked back at the car Jonah and Caroline were standing in the front of the van, both of them sobbing into their hands, giving a sad little wave every now and again and then dropping their tearful faces while their shoulders shook with the awful grief of it all.

We waved to Nana as we drove away, Ewan crying by this time as well. But still Cecily was quiet. Until we made our way through the drop-off circuit and headed for the freeway. Jonah and Caroline had quieted by then and Cecily's little voice declared "I want to say goodbye. I WANT TO SAY GOODBYE." She sensed the reality of separation. She was desperate. As we came around heading east on I-80 Cecily saw a plane taking off just in front of us and waved yelling, "Goodbye Nana, Goodbye!"

Nita Sue - you specialize in making yourself utterly indispensable - on both sides of the country. I hear they are crying their own tears back in New York waiting for you to come home.

The next morning, when I got Cecily our of bed I changed her diaper for the first time since Ewan was born. Nearly a month of her little two-year-old bottom being farmed out to be cleaned up by other hands.

It took me nearly a week to do my first load of laundry. And I've yet to fold it.

Good bye Nana.

We miss you.

Your Mark Is Permanent

There are signs of my mother everywhere.

The last load of laundry that she put through my washer and dryer, still waiting to be folded.

The last two pieces of cheesecake and raspberry sauce in my refrigerator that she made for me on my birthday.

The scraps of towel she tore apart and used to clean my hardwood floor - that had not been truly cleaned in the six years we have lived in this house.

The towel she brought me to replace the one she tore up which happened to be a bit raggedy but still one of my favorites. The one she brought is my new favorite.

The new pillows she bought for me that support my aching, pregnant body each night and carry me through to a new morning - one day closer to the end of pregnant.

The towels put away in my cabinet that are folded differently than I fold them, but would not be folded at all had she not done it.

The lack of grass choking out my daisies.

The morning glories thriving in the pots on my front porch - growing from seeds she harvested off the dried up vines from last year and planted with the kids.

All the clean clothes left in my children's drawers.

And the empty space she left on the couch . . .in my kitchen. . .my laundry room. . .my garden. . .my inner sense of well being.

Luckily she leaves other signs - the kind that won't fade.

Like homemade macaroni and cheese with red sauce served at our table regularly.

Magenta bottles of pomegranate magic. . .or jelly, whichever you prefer.

Thursday taco night.

Little Cecily saying "Nana, Nana, where Nana, Mama?"

Instilling the confidence in me to keep trying to be a mother.

Organizing my medicine drawer.

Airborne when we feel the slightest itch in the throat.

Stevia for morning oats.

The nightgown she gave me out of her own suitcase after Caroline was born that I wear all the time while I am pregnant and nursing.

Her genes made manifest in my mirrors and my daughters.

#7 on my cell phone speed dial.

My Mom is in New York.

My Mom moved to New York.

She is in my sister's home now.

I know what kinds of things they do together - work - and some play - and make sure to take a nap every day.

Goodbye Mom.

It's alright. The next best thing to doing my laundry is doing Aubrey's. The Hannigs are lucky to have you, even if you don't do any laundry at all. And Heaven knows they've waited long enough to have Nana on that side of the country.

Until September 14th.