unwrapping tuesday

I walk outside for the low fog, the glass beads in the long grass, the base perfume of dirt the day after a rain, the morning glories aching that deep hue, the kind awarded for heated-battle. They get that way vining up toward the sun. They ache in the reaching. The cars are humming, and tiny beaks sup and dip and sup at the puckered trumpet vine.

I leave one son sitting on the toilet. Reading Martha Stewart Magazine, he tells me to go away. One has found a girly pacifier behind the couch. He walks and laughs sucking. The other, lapping over a chair, sprawls long and unaware of nothing but the stalking chiggers from the yard. I tell him they’ll be gone soon – such rude bugs.

I stand on the back steps and want to close my eyes and then turn over in bed. I feel like telling my sister it’s time to get up. It feels like school will start in an hour. Need two pencils, eggs, and please some snack money. We’ll write in the driveway while waiting for the bus,

but I’ll be thirty in two weeks. Yesterday I started an Apple-Cidar-Vinegar habit with the mother. I’m the mother. I’m a good mother who reeks of it and aches of it – their only one. Again this morning, I unwrap it, and again, I try, but I don’t taste the honey. Then I turn around to go in, 


but one stands on the other side of the locked door, and then the neighbors hear me yell, and then my fist bangs, and I can feel them saying “Oh crap, now we really can’t let her in.” But then they must feel me saying, “I might not really want in there.”

So they let me in. Everybody’s in trouble. We all cry, and then my lap piles high. They say, “Hold you, please.” And now we hold, lean in, and thumb suck.

This is where I remember it – why I surprisingly crave one newly born – that the honey is in the holding. In the needing and the holding and in all the softened boy-goofiness thereafter.

for more unwrappings, see Emily @ Chatting at the Sky.tuesdaysunwrapped1-400x98

About me


What I Knew In My Dying Day: a Wild in the Hollow Guest Post by Tara Owens
August 19, 2015
Condemnation on the Molehill
June 08, 2015
Tools for the Highly Sensitive Mother: An Introduction
April 27, 2015
The Uncouth: The Hormonal
May 12, 2014
What Mothers Me
April 01, 2014
Learning How to Eat (and a giveaway of Mom in the Mirror)
May 20, 2013
A Haines Home Companion: Alter
February 22, 2013
A Haines Home Companion: Motherhood and Anti-Depression
February 08, 2013
A Haines Home Companion: On the Trail
January 25, 2013


Aunt Pam
Reply July 28, 2009

No! NO! Tell me it isn't so!! You are not going to be 30, Aug 10!!!! I can't believe it! You are my little girl that I played with just yesterday. Wow! How time flies!! Another great post as usual!

Reply July 28, 2009

there are, again, no words. The way I wish a photographer could follow my family around and capture all these little moments for me is the same way I wish you could follow my family around, pen in hand, observing my world through your eyes and waxing poetic all the way.

you are a gift to human-kind, amber. And I'm not trying to be funny. honest.

Your Husband
Reply July 28, 2009

First, I love you. You are a good mother that should carry your keys with you a bit more often. Usually, when you sneak away to the store or market, I have a similar experience. Except that in my experience, one boy feigns reading some book written for collegiate students while another sneaks crackers from the pantry. In the midst of all the organic snacking and A.C.T. prepping, the middlest boy sneaks out the back door in a diaper, running as fast as chubby legs can carry down to the Massey's house. In those moments I realize how short my fuse, how wide God's grace is for us, and how gentle and sweet Mr. and Mrs. Massey truly are.

Second, I was reading Annie V.'s blog today (www.aholyexperience.com) and was thinking about how beautifully she captured ruin of aphids, which I hate almost as much as chiggers. While reading I thought, "I wonder if she ever says 'crap'?" Seriously. I thought it. I wanted to mention that because I laughed out loud as the circle completed itself in your post.

Your Husband
Reply July 28, 2009

And insert a few "the"s strategically in the above post. I weren't too good with articles this mornin'.

Reply July 28, 2009

You brought tears to my eyes. "The honey is in the holding." Once again, I'd have to quote the whole post to explain what and how it moved me.

And also, you're still 29? Now I can say officially that you're wise beyond your years. :-)

the scooper
Reply July 28, 2009

I am in love with your writing, so poignant and beautiful and honest. What a gift you have. I spent some time lurking around here last week. I found you through Emily...I think. I'm hit or miss on the Tuesdays Unwrapped thing but I'm so glad when I do participate. I'm always blessed by the others who unwrap. Oh, and I also crave "newly-born's."

Reply July 28, 2009

Ah, once again, a beautiful post.

Reply July 28, 2009

so, a.h., have i told you lately how much i love your heart? who you are in Him? and who He is making you to be?
you truly are a treasure. just wanted you to know...

Boy Crazy
Reply July 29, 2009

Oh, Amber. I share this sentiment exactly. I found you through your Blog Nosh feature and left a comment on your 'about' page then, but I have been reading you since then.
I also have three small boys and at our house we, too, have our share of feeling torn, yelling and crying, the "Hold me both" pleas, and even a little thumb sucking. I have been that mama on the chair with three boys piled high on my lap. Tears on my cheeks because it can be hard hard hard, but a smile on my face because my boy-filled life really does fill me with joy indescribable.
I really enjoy your writing. Stop by my blog sometime, and I'm sure you'll find plenty of stories you could have written yourself. ;)

Reply July 30, 2009

My 7 year old is now picking up Martha Stewart while on the toilet and has a thousand questions/ideas when she's finally done!

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