AD - All We Are Series

Chapter Four

June 2004

Today I received word from Donovan that he might be home for Christmas. I didn't say much in response, but I'm sure he knew how upset I was by this. Kaleb would be two years and two months old by then, and Donovan hadn't seen a day past my third trimester. He wasn't there for the backaches and the fatigue. He wasn't there for Kaleb's teething and crying at night. Sometimes I couldn't help but resent that he was never home. My mother had stepped in before Kaleb was born, and Donovan's mother joined her after he was born. My aunt and uncle were busy, their hands full of Margaret's energetic fourteen year old self. She was an aunt at fourteen. That was only four years more than the age gap between her and myself.

I knew I didn't have the luxury of nostalgia, though. Margaret, now fifteen, and our aunt and uncle were coming over. She stayed with them most of the time, with Mom stuck in her depression, not that I didn't expect it. Pop died four years ago, but they were together for over thirty years, ever since they were in their early twenties. Though earlier than that, I suppose, as they were dating before they got married.

Anyways, I was torn now. I wanted to be upset at Donovan because he was away for some of the earliest years of his son's life, but I couldn't be mad at him. I loved him, and I wanted him to be happy. How could I take away his military career from him when it gave him purpose? It wasn't fair to him.

It wasn't fair to either of us.

But what could I do about it? Nothing. Instead, I sat wallowing at home, washing dishes and picking up the house, only to have baby Kaley destroy it in a few hours.

Speaking of which, my pride and joy was due to wake up in a few more minutes. I checked the clock, wondering what today had in store.

I heard some crying coming from Kaleb's room. I smiled slightly and walked down the hall. Even with my hair a mess, clothes unwashed, and house a disaster, Kaleb could always bring a smile to my face. He was, above all, the most important one in my life.

"Hey there Kaley bear," I cooed at him, reaching out to pick him up. He had gotten so big now, standing up on his own in his crib.

"Ma!" Kaleb said, and I chose to believe he was calling me "mom" and not just saying baby babble.

"Hey there baby, how did you sleep?" I asked him. He went off in some tangent, speaking in a foreign language that no one else in the world knew.

I wonder, is it sad for babies to be unable to communicate? Or do they think nothing of it, as they haven't ever communicated with another soul?

I shook my head. It wasn't time for philosophical thoughts, it was time to get Kaleb ready for the day.

"What do you want to do today, Kaleb? We could go to the park. You love playing in the sandbox," I remarked, sighing as I said, "Though you seem to enjoy eating the sand more than playing with any toys I bring you."

I dressed Kaleb in his diaper, shorts, and a cotton shirt. It was summer, so I made sure to grab his (my) favorite hat.

"Down you go!" I said to him as I placed him on the floor. Kaleb scooted around a little bit before he pushed himself into a crawling position, scrambling down the hall with his little toddler gait. I laughed and reached down beside the changing table to grab Kaleb's diaper bag. It was one of those large, oversized bags. I remember in my youth thinking that ladies were crazy for wearing and using them, but now I knew how much fashion didn't matter: convenience did.

Kaleb turned a corner into the living room, just as I knew he would. He loved playing with his blocks in the morning. I quickly rushed after him, not wanting him to get into any danger. Kaleb thought he could walk, and he tried to pull himself up by grabbing onto the sofa and any chairs. I had to keep the dining room door shut at all times after he fell over a couple times by yanking on a kitchen chair when he lost his balance. The sofa was considerably safer.

As I had anticipated, Kaleb was playing on the floor.

"Zzzz," he said, making the buzzing sound as he drove a car across the floor.

"What are you playing with, Kaleb?" I asked him as I sat down beside him on the rug.

"Twuck!" he said enthusiastically, picking it up and showing it to me.

"Yes, that's right. It's a car, isn't it," I said gently, hoping to show him the difference.

"Twuck? Caw?"

"This is a truck," I said, pointing to the truck that sat beside him, forgotten. I pointed to the car in his hands and said, "Car."

"Twuck! Caw!" Kaleb cheered, picking up the truck in his other hand and clapping them together. I winced slightly at the harsh sound and hoped Kaleb wouldn't break them.

"Zzzz," Kaleb continued playing. "ZzzZZZzzz."

"Kaleb, honey, would you like some food?" I asked him.

"Circles!" Kaleb shouted. I smiled, laughing slightly at his name for Cheerios.

"Circle Cheerios coming right up!"

I walked to the kitchen in the next room. It was set up so I could easily see through the door while I was moving about the kitchen, and I was able to watch Kaleb as he moved around the room.

"Zzzz. Zoom! ZzzzZZZZZZzzz," he buzzed as he made the two toys race each other around the furniture.

I prepared a plate of dry Cheerios and some apple sauce with a small plastic spoon. I set the plate on the high chair in the kitchen. One of my friends from the office had gotten me some plates with three and four sections in them.

"You'll love them," she had promised me. She had two kids at the time, and I trusted her judgement, even though it was a bit early to give something like that. It wasn't the typical baby shower gift, but it was one of the ones I used the most.

"Here's some Cheerios and apple sauce," I told Kaleb as I walked back into the room.

"Yay," he said, clapping his hands and smiling that adorable smile.

I picked up Kaleb, him squealing and dropping his toys. I grimaced as they fell on my feet with a hard thud. Walking Kaleb to the kitchen was no easy feat. Despite the short distance, Kaleb squirmed as he was excited for his "circles".

I sat him down in the high chair, not bothering to buckle the belt. Kaleb didn't like it and loudly complained when I did it. For being a baby in the terrible twos, he was surprisingly well behaved most of the time, but he always let me know when he didn't like something. He was quite vocal.

"Here's your food!" I said, picking up the spoon.

"No, I do it!" Kaleb argued, hitting my hand.

"Kaleb, it's not nice to hit people," I scolded him gently, grabbing his hand and keeping it from moving.

"I sowwy, ma," Kaleb said remorsefully.

"That's okay. Here's your spoon," I smiled at him. He gratefully picked it up and dug into his apple sauce. I was a bit surprised that he didn't go for the Cheerios first, but I supposed that it was just a matter of time before he ate those, too.

I smiled, resting my hand on my cheek as I watched Kaleb eat. He missed his mouth a lot, wiping apple sauce all over his face and tray. Cheerios were scattered. They were on the tray, on the plate, on the floor, and even in Kaleb's hair. I knew that as soon as I picked him up, Cheerios would fly from the folds in his clothes.

It was a mess, but he was my mess.