I’ve written this post to you in my head for over a year, threatening ever so often to actually write it down. Alas, pen has finally met paper (or, more factually, digits have drummed a keyboard) and here it is: a post, finally.

Finally.

When motherhood and my momentum as a writer collided three years ago, I figured the hiatus would be brief. I’d find my way back. I felt the siren’s call of the blank page and the story untold. The only problem was, I felt, for the first time, unsure. Would my wonderings be solely based on motherhood? Would a life outside of the woods still be one worth sharing? I was changing, as I always have been, as you too are just now as we sit together. Some changes are fast and in the rear view before we know it and some are like molasses.

Motherhood has been my molasses. A slow reconstruction of self that changes day by day as it always has, just with new variables.

For example: my old self would never have known the simple joy of using the bathroom alone. These days, I just might text a friend about such a triumph.

Life has changed. A lot. And I want to be able to look back and remember it. So, before we get too far moving forward, let’s free up mental space and venture back in time to May of 2024 and talk tits…Tits Out.

‘Twas a day like any other and by that I mean it was the second time I was flying with Ollie without The Chief (and it hadn’t been nearly long enough since the first to forget what that could be like). I was under slept and overstimulated but thankfully joined by an “Auntie” co-pilot. Auntie E, to be exact.

We had all stayed up late and woken up early and Ollie had recently turned from 1 to 2 overnight, despite his birthday not being until the end of the month. He was independent and boisterous and brazen and ready to party! As the plane prepared for departure, his excitement grew.

“WOOOOooooHOOOOOOOoooo!!!” he yelled. He stood atop my knees, peering out the window, whooping and woo-ing like a fan at a basketball game.

The engines hadn’t even started.

Stewards and stewardesses came by to coo at him, telling me they’d never seen a kid so amped for takeoff. He hooted and hollered the entire time until finally, the engines did start and the wheels swirled us around and…

takeoff!

Ollie continued to whoop in wonder until we’d reached altitude. The kid LOVES flying. He also loves snacks and after expelling all that energy, having a couple “Cheddie Bun Buns” (Annie’s Cheddar Bunnies FTW) and other essentials, he was ready for “Booba Yuck”.

Can you guess what that is?

Milk.
My kid calls breastmilk, Yuck. It’s charming, I’m sure.

Booba Yuck to the rescue and before I knew it, the tuckered tyrant was fast asleep, and apparently, so was I.

An hour or so later, I awoke, looked down and saw one thing and one thing only: Tits.

Tits Out.

Ollie, little wiggler that he is, had sandwiched himself between my elbow and my breast leaving me looking as if I:

1. Did not have a baby in tow
2. Did have a boob that I needed everyone to see. Everyone.

I had just been lying there for an hour during drink service with an entire boob out on display like a Christmas ham. Cheers!

I readjusted and re-covered myself and then…got to laughing. And couldn’t stop. It was just days before Mother’s Day and the most perfect expression of motherhood I could imagine.

So, a very belated happy Mother’s Day to you all, to all the caregivers and all those who have been cared for in all the endless forms loving takes. I see you, baby.

Cheers to you.

With love,

from Alaska

P.S. Last post was a bummer to end on, eh? I’m happy (though still heart-wrenched) to report that Leto did find a wonderful home. We still talk with him often and miss him dearly and also savor the safety of being separate. Life, man. Oof!