Chronicles Of A Stay At Home Mom cylas romalise: cylas memories parenting roma
by Mommy Hobbies
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In my napsack stash
Got a gentle nudge from an old friend the other day…”Where are you?” I’m here, I’m here! I’ve been busy and mentally foggy. My blog has suffered…it’s plain to see.
Although I’ve been silent on my blog, my life has been propelling forward. There is a lot to write about, not sure I even have the energy to dedicate blog posts to all of the neat things that have happened. First of all, to my runner friends who read my blog, I ran the D.C Rock N Roll Half. It was a lot of fun. The experience wasn’t like the first time, but it was nice to run, literally, down memory lane. My time was less than impressive, no thanks to my catty hamstring. She was talking…and my legs were arguing back.
My life as mommy is getting more fun. Really, it is. Now that my son has a mouth full of teeth and his own set of opinions he is the fire in my belly. While my Roma, she is the wind that encourages Cy’s little fire and creates whirlwinds of questions as she follows me around. Getting to know my four year old Roma has been amazingly delightful. And getting to connect on a deeper level with my almost seven year old Cy has been life changing. There is nothing like looking into your baby boy’s eyes and knowing that he trusts you, that he loves you…that he really, really loves you. We have shared some of the sweetest bonding moments together. He has proven to be an honest kid with a kind heart, an infinitely curious mind and a love for his mother’s cooking. School hasn’t lost its luster, yet, for him, so that’s nice. Spelling and reading trip him up all the time but math — it’s his Superbowl. I’ve found he enjoys knowing that numbers are a constant, they won’t ever change. 2 + 2 will ALWAYS equal 4…meanwhile, ‘c’ says ‘sss’ before e-i or y, sometimes, not always and when you’re having a bad day ‘x’ says ‘sss’ too. Yeah, English, the horrible, unpredictable, finicky mistress of language itself. He builds, constructs, digs tunnels and collects seeds. He wants to own an IKEA and he loves soccer. Lady killer.
If the sun could encapsulate itself and bring a small sliver of its radiance to earth — it would probably turn itself into my daughter. My golden-haired tomboy diva princess — is that even possible?? — who is full of “brilliant” ideas (now, I put ‘brilliant’ in quotations because she uses that word a lot to describe things like, her dresses, or her mood or anything…). She gets ‘eskited’ about her favorite foods, friends and or new toys. She loves her tutu (still) and enjoys talking to herself in the mirror. She changes clothes three times a day (along with her underwear, socks and slippers) and she’s never short on tasks for me. I’ve been Daisy. I’ve been her daughter. I’ve been her sweetie. I’ve been her mother. I’ve been a bug. I’ve even been a puppy and I’ve eaten plastic chips with a side of imaginary soup. Heart breaker.
I didn’t imagine that I would get to this point in motherhood where my love for these two little pieces of my husband and I would energize me in such a special way. It’s a new stage of being a mama that I’m loving completely.
And then I smile, thinking about the cup I picked up yesterday evening, without paying any mind, took a large swig….TWO large, refreshing swigs before glancing down at the small chunks of whatever floating happily in the bottom. *stomach lurch* I am my children’s mom.