The Cerebral Mum

He’s not quite so fair of face any more.

He’s now The Elephant Man…

This is what to expect when you have boys, right?

He thought launching himself into the bed head was a great idea. Until he hit it. Then the screaming and me grabbing him to see how how badly he’d hurt himself only to find that within seconds there was a mean looking bruise and a rock hard lump beneath that hair that needs cutting.

Never having seen anything come up that fast before I was glad Big Sis’ boyfriend hadn’t taken the car and dashed off in a frenzy to the doctor’s. I’m really not a panicky mum, but it was wicked. Luckily, my doc checked him out immediately and wasn’t concerned at all. Believe me, if I’d had to pay that $40 out of my own pocket (my doctor bulk bills for children) it would have been worth every single penny.  This one freaked me out.

Now, I’ll just be taking proud rainbow shots for the rest of the week.

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Just a poem tonight. I have no idea when I wrote it. I barely remember it. But there it was, hidden in the old computer files I still need to sort out. So here it is…

You Begin

When your soft fingers
flex against the walls
of my deep cavern,
you begin.
Or is it sooner?

When you first feel
the pulse of my hot
blood in your own veins,
is it then?
Or is it when

I feel him still
beneath me, still
enclosed by flesh,
but still.
Is it then
that you first move?

Almost you.

Or when I run
screaming
to my own mother,
blood on hands,
wanting to swim
with the bloodless girls,
already ashamed
of my blue bra?

Is that you then,
new, impatient?
Or is it when

my own fingers
flex against the wall
of her deep cavern
and further inside
I drum life patterns
into waiting rooms
and you begin.

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