Tomorrow chases today through my head.

My eyes dart hurried glances at half-done tasks, my mind scans the never-ending list of to-dos.  It’s a race against time, I sense the gap narrowing between the feeding he just finished and the next.  No longer a tenant of my womb, the baby is the landlord of my being, not just borrowing my body but owning my chest, my time.  Tollie's domination of the day makes me feel soft and productivity feel hard.

When I let Tucker guide the schedule, when I don't resist his direction, I find peace.  I lose track of tomorrow and I don't even think much about today.  I feed little brother while I sit benext to the tub, Tuck's face submerged to make "turtle noises."  While we dive into books and collapse into giggles, while we train dragons and travel through his imagination.  When I surrender we are, in some sense of the word, productive.  Tuck's agenda, my attention, will certainly yield results, in good time.

And all too soon, all too soon, Tolliver will share a voice in the daily program.  He'll want more than milk, he may not need me as much as he does now, and I might need him even more.   
JEB