ava

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the babe is going to be 18 months soon. a whole year and a half!
wow.
you know, i’ve been thinking about her a lot. and about the new baby. and about ryan. mostly because that college literary magazine i’m on staff for. every tuesday from 2 to 5:30, i’m the only active parent in the room (one woman has children, but they are my age, moved out and she is removed from the situation). even my faculty adviser is without child. i think about how ava makes me different, how my perspective is colored with bits of ava, how when we read poems of death and birth and mothers i feel so much more than everyone else. i am the parent. my daughter stops crying when i kiss her hurts and wears footsie pajamas. she has a mullet and a nail-chewing habit (i know, already?).
i feel grateful. because now when people say, “how old?” i can finally answer them in a way that requires no math.
“a-year-and-a-half.”
before i’d start to say “thirteen months” and their eyes would glaze over as soon as they realized that there was math involved (let’s see, there are 12 months in a year? and 13 minus 12 is 1? so she’s one year and a month?). that is a terrible habit you get in to as a parent. it’s the same with pregnancy. people don’t want to hear how many weeks (lame). just months. how many months? and if you could give it to them in 9 month format, it would make things easier.
i can also feel like i’m not cheating anymore. other parents ask, “how old?” when their like-aged child tries to hug mine and she steps back and looks at them like, “excuse me, but that thing you were doing with your arms holding me down and your body pressed against mine? don’t.”
“18 months.” i’d say. they immediately brighten.
“when’s her birthday?” like isn’t this great? my child is 18 months too! maybe we were in labor on the same day! what a special thing for both of us!
“august 11th.” face falls. because they’ve caught me. i lied. my child is really only 17 and a half months old. awful. i’ll probably be banned from this part of the sandbox forever more.
oh, ava. what could i say to celebrate your one-and-half-years outside of my womb? truly, you are my largest accomplishment. to think that at one point you were two little cells, bobbing around next to each other, forming limbs and a distinct dislike for anything peach flavored! thank you for coming all in one piece and thank you for sticking around.

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