Finding the Subtleties in the Chaos

It’s Quiet first, then I hear babbling. Make bottles. Now they’re quiet again. I’m searching for subtleties in the chaos that takes over my every day. The moment I pick Jack up after he’s been running, stomping, climbing. I hold him, he’s breathing hard, half fighting to get free, half wanting my firm hold and calming touch. I look into his eyes, at his face, skin, mouth, open slightly, teeth showing, I look into those big blue eyes wondering “who are you baby?”  How can we take it down a notch, how can we really get to know each other? His breathing slows, he’s relaxed in my arms now. He’s my little baby, he’s my son. Fiona stays close to me. She climbs up my legs and grabs hold of my shoulder. I’m talking to Robin on the deck, we’re sitting on the babies climbing apparatus, previously known as deck furniture. Fiona keeps climbing higher and holding me tighter, then going out on her own. She comes back again and again, Jack gets into this pattern too. They come close, hug me. Climb on me, then move away. They start to enter into Robin’s space. They look at her shoes, her feet, polish on her nails. They trust her, let her pick them up, hug them and hold them. They feel the love that Robin brings, I think they know how happy I am to have her visiting us. I told Fiona last night she can have the Purple Heart necklace Robin made me when she gets old enough. She loves it so much, she can’t stop pointing to it and smiling saying “E”. Before I fall asleep I feel my face is roughened by looking and being looked at. My head feels heavy. Is it the rapid pace of the babies learning and observations that’s made me feel this fatigue? I am right there with them, looking at my face from inside myself, looking at their faces, looking at the faces of the people we meet. That’s why it’s so nice to get away into nature. Where we look at the trees, the birds, the ocean. The Ocean. I can’t imagine what Fiona’s going through during this phase of rapid development. Listening to all the sounds through an electronic device. Going to sleep without her hearing aids, waking up without the sounds.

Now they are definitely ready to come get their milk! “Here I come babies!” I say. (They can’t hear me yet) But as I climb down the stairs closer to their room I keep saying, “Good morning babies” I can hear excitement from their cribs as I walk through the door. I pick each baby up and hug them tight and tell them how I love them.  Bottles fed, let them feed “Billy the Kid” some cheese pieces, and set up an inspiring play area. Ready for our day. The End

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About Jenny Hynes

I am a painter, housewife, and mother of twins