a village.

cedar & me yesterday, after he played in a water park.  he is looking up at a huge yellow hot air balloon in the sky and feels afraid.

today i come here with no ego after a week of restless nights and a barely sleeping, teething toddler with growing pains. a boy who is quickly discovering he is separate from me, from us and is exploring this without the ability to share it in words. his awe, his frustration, his wanting to absorb it all and yet come back to those quiet moments where a book will suffice. he wants so badly to not need me yet he needs me deeply.

one minute he is softly stroking my face and handing me his stuffed puppy to snuggle up close with him and the next minute he is throwing his book at me because he cannot express what he wants to. i was told this would happen. i've read about the phases and stages in both tender and clinical ways. but when it comes down to those moments of shock, its a bit of a mind mess, non? some more than others. some meaning after a whole week of not sleeping well, i feel stripped of the warrior goddess and instead am lying naked, vulnerable and weary.

there are moments of deep inner strength. there are moments of unraveling and tears. there are moments of clarity and there are moments of uncertainty.  each day of his life is intense and beautiful and exhausting and confusing and heart shifting.

i shared this with a dear friend today. we exchanged ideas about how truly, we are not meant to raise our children alone. how our culture in America can at times send out a message that isolation is perfectly okay. that we can do it all and do it alone. i am grateful to have people in my life that think beyond those boundaries. that resonate with how other countries embrace the idea that it takes a village. it takes a tribe.

with all of this swirling around me, i read this sent to me by a soul friend that gets it:

he's so beautiful.
and he's yours...
this soul that came to your heart.
that grows in front of you.
every day... something new.
big laughter and smiles.
and tantrums and blow out poops.
curly sweet sweaty hair after a nap
cuddling into mamas boobs.
sitting with his frog legs, pulling books into his lap.
he's amazing...
and he's your baby.

it feels like you've always had him.
like- i don't remember you without him.

mmmmm...my heart swells and i find my strength in those words.

hey...my ego is stripped and i stand here shouting to the rooftops that i am totally cool with a village surrounding me right now. bring it on.