Everybody’s Somebody’s Something

When you walk down the street

with each person you meet

Whether fancy or shabby

High heels or bare feet

Wherever you go and whoever you know

Those with big jobs or small jobs

Up high or down low

Always remember that no one is nothing

Because everybody’s somebody’s something

Whether mom or dad or sister or brother

Each one has to belong to another

Aunt or uncle or daughter or son

Every person has another one

Somebody’s little squirt or peanut or pumpkin

Everybody’s somebody’s something

You may feel alone, so take a second glance

We all feel alone

Until we’re given a chance

Always remember that no one is nothing

Because everybody’s somebody’s something

The person who brings you a great big tray

The person who sings on a great big stage

Leader or helper, older or young

Every person belongs to someone

Somebody’s mi amor or sweetheart or munchkin

Everybody’s somebody’s something

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For the weak and full of wonder

Boys with tattoos of songs like memories of time on a loop

Tracing lines as a reference point for who they were back then

With pavement under your feet instead of in your dreams

And wrinkles on your sheets instead of in your eyes

And moments you were creating

Instead of remembering

Girls with hope like anchors lay waiting for their cue

To reel the line and feel the pull for who they should be now

With pictures in painted frames instead of frozen on screens

And blood pulsing through your vessels Instead of puddled in your hands

And love you were receiving

Instead of forgiving

The forest for the trees

I thought I knew your limits, but I was wrong. All of my lessons and time spent watching, couldn’t hold weight against the leaning of your human heart. You stood with your shoulders bowed and hands planted against a wall I thought was fixed.

But you moved.

You moved moved moved, and the wall became a monument.

And the monument cast a shadow covering walls I built before.

Until all that was visible was the place beyond the walls.

And I realized the walls were never built for your safety, but my own.

Thank you for dissolving the limits I set for you. Thank you for proving me wrong.

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F Street

On the corner of F street he sits in his chair

with safe shit all around him in crisp autumn air

An empty box from an empty purchase

complete with receipts to reaffirm it was worth it

Every toy from his child who has long been grown, to remind him of days he was less alone

Every tool for that thing he’s been meaning to mend, when he finds how and where and what’s been broken

Maximum capacity in complete isolation

His drug of choice is accumulation

No room for love with no where to hide

The house on F street is fully occupied

Modern Medicine

We started with an ache for what could be,

built ourselves like vessels to carry healing

We forced the lines and fed the dream

erected a home for palliating

At war with the god we knew

and the ones we were becoming

We fashioned a science out of caring

And a business out of compassion

Made miracles truth or daring

Found an opposite reaction

We were never meant to place

A price tag on this thing

We fell numb in the cold, deep water below

The ships sank from mistakes all our own

We blurred the lines and bled the truth

Tore down the shelter meant to soothe

At peace with the devil we knew

And the one we were becoming

But we still feel the ache

For the ones who are broken

Our dream is still vivid

Our arms are still open

One miracle for a million that could have been

That’s the paradox of modern medicine

Our First Year

I am the mom of a one year old. I said that sentence out loud just now, because reading it felt insane. If I’m being honest, for the first few months I would think to my self, “If we can just make it to a year then…” Then he will be walking and communicating… then things will be easier…But I think what I really craved was the…then my baby will be less of a stranger. There is so much time spent planning, rehearsing, decorating, cleaning, singing, and talking to your belly, feeling those crazy movements, staring at ultrasounds, that you think you will immediately know and understand your baby. But learning your baby is an adventure that takes a long time (probably a lifetime). So here’s the beginning of our life time (mine as a mother and my sweet baby’s) and a few things I’ve learned.

As someone who can’t even eat the same meal two days in a row, routines are not really my thing…but babies LOVE routines. And unless you plan on holding them at all times of the day for the first 3 years of their life, you will also learn to love routines. A baby’s world is a little bit overwhelming, something about sensory and development overload and their brain doubling in size the first year. They CRAVE some sort of structure. The first year I really learned to listen to my mommy inclinations. Although it’s completely necessary to go outside the routine lines at times, there will MORE times when the holy spirit/inner voice/mommy senses tell you STOP. SLOW DOWN. STAY HOME. Your baby needs their routine. Be obedient to your mommy senses.

Give extra grace to your spouse. As a woman…who birthed a baby…and was its sole source of nutrition for many months…it was really easy to fall into the mindset of thinking this life change was only happening to me. Your spouse is also going through a HUGE transition, and he showed up a little late to the party aka is having to play catch up for all those months of bonding he missed while baby was in your belly. In some aspects the transition is even harder on them. Some dads will catch up the first day, but I’d argue for most it takes a little longer. Remind yourself they are not the enemy. James has said to me, “Sarah, you HAVE to stop thinking I’m against you,” at times when the stress levels and emotions have been high. There is nothing more valuable than being and staying on each other’s team, because children be CRAY. Your spouse is your lifeline not your roadblock. It’s hard to keep that adult quality time especially in the newborn stage. What worked for us was going on walks almost daily. Of course date night is amazing, but it’s not always achievable in the beginning. Whatever the case may be, make the time to reconnect and realize you both are in this together.

Wake up before your baby.

Yes, I know this is brutal and difficult when all you want is 5 more minutes of sleep. I am notorious for being completely irrational without enough sleep, but waking up before your baby is a game. changer. I have a better version of myself to offer my child and my husband if I’ve accomplished some sort of meaningful task before the day starts. There is something radical and transformative about waking up on your own terms vs. waking up to the sound of your baby.

My last revelation is to go slow. It’s slightly embarrassing how often I wanted the next developmental phase to start, and I am positive when I am 100 years old, (obviously I’m going to live that long) I will look back at these baby moments as probably the happiest time in my life. So sit down and watch your child eat, sleep, play. The world will happen all around you, but the first few years of your child’s life are the most magical thing to ever grace your existence. Don’t miss it.

Our first year has been a blur of breastfeeding, bottles, baby wearing, five little monkeys, moon river singing, long family walks, sleep training, night weaning, diapers, teething, learning, and bonding. And although I feel so much more comfortable in these Mom shoes, I know that I have so much more to learn about my favorite little mess maker. 🖤

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The Youngest Child

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There are quite a few vivid memories I have from childhood of reporting back a play-by-play of all things good, bad, and ugly done by my brothers that day. Whether I was crying about some menial trauma they inflicted or divulging all the rules they broke, I was a classic tattle-tale. Even worse, I was an extremely practiced, theatrical victim…and the baby of the family…and the only girl. Put all those together and you have a recipe for someone who well into adulthood can still find herself playing the victim more than she would like to admit. Any other youngest children have that problem? Babies of the family, where you at? I’m very curious how much my “youngest child complex” affects my interactions with others.

Birth order is a really fascinating subject, that I only have anecdotal evidence to offer theories on…but I’d love to hear other people’s ideas and stories. For example, all of my easiest relationships are with “the oldests” in their families. My husband is an oldest…my mom is an oldest…two of my best friends are “oldests”.  My friendships and relationships with other “babies of the family,” while no less rewarding and valuable, are always a bit more of a challenge to maintain.

Also, how will my children’s birth order influence my relationship with them? I’m already positive, no other child we make will ever experience the level of fully devoted time and attention V receives from us, ha.

Click below for more about what your birth order says about you:

Birth order and personality

Alfred Adler

Birth order and job success