All in all, today can suck my left nut. There are a few things worth mentioning, however.
As he does most every weekend, Darius spent the night with us. This morning when he found me crying over an email I had received, he studied my face, reached up and touched a tear that trickled down my cheek, and then hugged me. It is really something to be loved by a child.
This evening, a very thoughtful friend asked to knit a hat for the baby after I'd mentioned how much I enjoy looking at the little owl and hedgehog hats on Etsy.com. She said she couldn't promise it would be without flaws, fit a newborn, or even resemble a woodland creature, but that she was up for the challenge. Her kindness meant so much to me, and I (shocker!) cried again. (I have to meet my hormonal quota of at least 27 cries per day, after all.)
During my recent bouts of insomnia, I have been enjoying listening to music on Playlist.com as I catch up on reading friends' blogs; research pregnancy, health, and nutrition; and generally sit in the dark basking in the glow of the computer. At present I sit here listening to Alice Cooper's "Poison." I am taken back to a very specific summer day around 1990 when I sat in the bathtub shaving my legs ankle to hip and singing along with that song on a mix-tape I'd made off the radio.
I want to love you but I better not touch
I want to hold you but my senses tell me to stop
I want to kiss you but I want it too much
I want to taste you but your lips are venomous poison...
I remember thinking how terribly exciting such sensations sounded to my 13 year old ears, and imagining the the best kind of love was like that: desperate, wild, clinging.
I was so wrong.
It is a partner who knows *exactly* how you like your coffee and makes it for you every morning. It is snuggles and sleepy murmurs of 'I love you' under the covers in the middle of the night. It is someone who always washes the dishes for you. It is the person with whom I can spontaneously burst into singing Kool & the Gang's "Joanna."
This. This is the best kind.