Here is a video of my daughter eating a piece of paper while her mother watches, wondering, "Is she eating that paper?" (It came back out right after the camera was off. I don't know why she likes to eat paper, but she does. Maybe I should have vaulted over to fish it out of her mouth, but I didn't.) There are approximately a zillion disclaimers I could disclaim here. But some of you may enjoy it and the rest of you know where to find the pause button, so here it is anyway.
This is a song I started to write three years ago, about a night when Pete was in the throes of a nap transition. One night when his brothers woke him up (AGAIN) I came utterly unglued, and this song is about coming back to my senses. The pieces of the song wouldn't quite come together then, but for some reason on Sunday I decided to finish it.
These are the lyrics:
The Not Quite Full Moon
v.1: The baby was sleeping when the noisy boys woke him
I could tell there'd be no sleeping any time soon
I flew into a fury and out of my front door
and on the horizon stood a not quite full moon.
Ch.1: They always to go sleep, I know; I'd forgotten in my angry morass
The truth that eludes me when anger deludes me is this: this too shall pass.
v.2: For close on an hour we paced through the neighborhood,
me in my fury and him at my side.
But a baby can't sleep when his mama is raging
So we turned one more corner, his eyes open wide.
Ch. 2: The hours drag like years sometimes, though the years fly so fleetly, so fast
The truth that eludes me when anger deludes me is this: this too shall pass.
v.3: The not quite full moon thrust herself through the treetops
and her light fell upon me like courage, like balm
The thoughts of my heart, which were "why me?" and "what now?",
were swiftly supplanted by a much-beloved psalm.
Bridge: The sun shall not smite thee by day nor the moon, nor the moon by night
The one who neither slumbers nor sleeps will watch, will guard your life
v.4: I can tell that my babies are made in God's image
Because they're none too fond of this slumbering thing
But peace is contagious as surely as rage is
And sleep stole upon that small boy in his sling.
Ch. (hybrid): They always go to sleep, I know; I'd forgotten in my angry morass
A bit more perspective, a bit less invective, for this, this too shall pass.
v.5: I wish I could say that I'd never been swayed, that
the truths I saw clear in the moonrise still shone
When slowly his eyes closed as we walked through the shadows
and the not quite full moon rose and lighted us home.
Oh, goodness, I just checked the preview of this post and I am internally disclaiming even more. I couldn't tell just what she was doing, see, because her back was to me. And and and-- only that way madness lies ("I know I said I'd get you the first part of chapter 3, but I was busy working on the breath support in my video because I wasn't at all happy with the high notes"), so I think I will just wince a little and post it anyway. This is what our home is like, with a million books around and a baby who is mostly gentle with them, except when she's not. And a mom who loses her temper sometimes, and who always hopes to do better.
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