Tag: Poetry

Grandpa’s Arrival

You bound up the stairs.

His mouth curves with excitement.

You squeal together.


Kids on Alki

Their mirth froths as the waves lap the beach.

I watch them fling salty spray at each other.

At 3 am, up for the sixth time, I will imagine

you at their age, sprinting through the sand,

only a careless glance back to locate me.


It’s hard not to wish these stages away



Parent Ed

It’s the second night

into training you

to sleep.

The dreaded 5 am cry.

We just fed you,

and it’s too painfully early

for morning.


We revert back to our old solution:

bring you into our bed.


Except this time the instant

I pick you up

you arch your back, mewls



Plain as day – I’ve made a mistake.


In my weary state,

house still night-time dark

it dawns on me like a

summer sunrise:

We are doing too much.


You are trying to tell us

(literally screaming at us)

to let you practice this fondling skill –

putting yourself to sleep.


It isn’t easy.

You cry. A lot.

But you cry even more,

even harder

when we intervene.


This is a crawl across a tightrope

of independence.


I want to tattoo this revelation

to my skin, to remember it when you are

2 and

6 and

10 and

14 and……


How – and when – to let go.

Sleep Regression

It’s a self diagnosis:

inability to connect sleep cycles.


we’ve induced it by rocking

you to sleep.

Now you don’t know how

to self-soothe.

Lay you down drowsy

they advise.

Prepare for crying

they say.


I don’t know how to do either.