P’ito has now lived with us longer than he lived in Guatemala.
I feel so completely his mama. I know the warm soft spot between his cheek and his neck, his delighted giggle when I spin him around, the sweet baby shampoo scent of his hair. I know the difference between a squawk of momentary discomfort and a howl of distress. And he knows the sound of our voices, the garlic-onion-mustard seed-tomato smell of our home, the rhythm of Pili’s steps coming up the stairs.
But then I look at our pictures of him in Guatemala, the flowers and colors and unique and wonderful sensations of that place. The scent of corn tortillas warming for a late afternoon lunch. The bouncing of tuk-tuks on cobblestones. The dust rising off the road as a brightly colored bus speeds by. And I wish he could know those sensations in his blood the way the smell of tar in the NYC subway will always smell like home to me.
He may not be able to articulate his memories, but I know that they are there. When we first brought him home, we quickly realized that he knew that los pollitos meant time to fall asleep. That he was gobble gobble gobble, “mi gordito” as his niñera proudly told us.
So I think about today with very mixed emotions, knowing that each day that brings him closer to us, brings him further from those first connections and associations that are part of the wonderful, exuberant, inquisitive boy I love so very much today (and everyday).
The best he can say about 4000 U.S. soldiers dead (and untold Iraqis) is “they volunteered?”
Um, “stop-loss” much, Dick?
Time to find myself a good 1/20/09 countdown ticker.
… who’s ever done this…
thought: hmmm, my site itches
damn, just changed it this morning. Shouldn’t be itching already. Stoooopid Disease.
Wait. Put in thigh site this morning. Itches on stomach.
[bangs head on wall] Put in new site. Connected, primed. Never took out old one. ARGH.
(Enter right, neosporin)
Oh, and a random cute kid picture. First Professional Haircut.
Because I use P’ito’s Real Name in these clips, and because there is some nekkid baby tush in them, these videos are password-protected. It’s the same password as I used before; if you’ve lost it or don’t have it, leave me a comment with your email and I’ll send it to you if you don’t seem like a creepy child pornographer.
If I don’t send it right away, it’s probably not because I think you’re creepy, I’m just busy.
On that note, back to grant applications I should have done a month ago.
I looked directly into these eyes for the first time.
And touched these hands for the first time.
Pili brought cakemix, eggs, and oil to Guatemala so that she could bake me a cake. But this was – and is – still the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten.
Exactly one year later.
I decided that was a better title than: “And now I forgive you for hitting me square in the face with ravioli (from three feet away.)”
Scene: I am putting a sleepy P’ito down in his crib. I rub his back, give him a kiss (and then steal another one, because his hair is Just So Soft) and he curls up on his belly with Blankie. At the door, I blow him one more kiss. He rolls over, brings his hand up to his lips, and goes “Mmmwah!” right back at me.
p.s. My computer is back! Hooray! Only $100 and a new keyboard later…