The Phoenix: Epicuriousmothering Rising

I don't know what it is with music lately, but it's bringing up some amazing memories and feelings. Today, ten minutes ago, I was making Teriyaki sauce for marinating Sunday chicken, when this song on Pandora came on.  I don't even know what it is or was called or who it was by, but it's this beautiful love song about how time and age won't change the love he feels for his love.  All of a sudden, I was crying, big old tears rolling down my cheeks because I was thinking of my brother, Joseph. I know, love song and brothers?  Nope, they don't often (ever) go together.  But today while I was listening to the song, I remembered what it was like to feel completely safe and loved and protected and that's how Joseph always made me feel.  (Well, once he grew out of handing me umbrellas and pushing me out of two story forts to see if I floated like my namesake "Mary Poppins" and sticking boogers on the end of vacuum hoses and sticking them through doors...

Today as I was racing down to pick Phoebe up from ballet, I heard a song by Regina Spector.  In it, she  says something about graffiti-ing up their babies toys and being a super cool parent.  I smiled and thought of all the super cool friends/family we have who do things like that with their kids (not graffiti up the toys--ick, toxic!) and what fun and deliberate parents they are.  For years they think about how their little son or daughter will be, what great clothes they'll buy for them and what fun books they'll read to them, trips they'll take them on, and how they're going to deal with . . . THEM. Yeah, I'm not like that. I was never like that. I never even thought about babies. I knew how they came, but only barely. It seemed all so impossible and far far far off. And so . . . Henry took us both by complete surprise.  To put it mildly. When I think of myself pregnant with him and the first few months after we had him, it's of a young woman ...