over a cup of cocoa

It's overcast and rainy today. I love it. It's the kind of weather that begs for sweaters and soup. If you were to stop by this morning, I'd offer you a seat on the couch and ask if you wanted some cocoa.

I'd tell you how ready I am for rain again, how I've been so excited to bust out my sweaters and rain boots.

I'd mention our plans to spend the day at the coast tomorrow to celebrate our anniversary, which is Monday.

I might tell you about how having a baby has actually made grocery shopping easier for me. Because shopping with a babe is so much more cumbersome and involved, I plan ahead now and go grocery shopping only once a week instead of several times.

If asked, I'd tell you all about Asher's many perfections, a litany that would surely be interrupted several times by Asher's coos. Actually you probably wouldn't have to ask me about him; I'd gush unprompted.

I'd admit that I don't like my stretchmarks, even though I know they're a marker of something beautiful and divine.

I'd tell you about how vulnerable motherhood has made me. My heart has never been in this place before, and it's exhilarating and terrifying--truly sublime.

I'd confess that when Asher sleeps, I go and check on him several times. Really, though, I just like to look at him.

I'd ask you about your plans for the holidays, what traditions you're looking forward to, and how your family is doing.

I'd offer to let you hold Asher, but only if you wanted to. I've never been that person who loves to hold every single baby. If you're like me, I take no offense. It's a-okay.

I'd ask if you've read any good books lately. Or bad books. I'd ask what you thought about them and why.

I'd ask you what your favorite iPhone apps are, because I am finally joining the smart-phone club.

I'd thank you for stopping by and say, "We should do this again soon!" I'm often content to hole myself up and hibernate (regardless of the season), and embarrassingly I give myself a pat on the back whenever I initiate socializing.

After you left I'd rinse out the empty cocoa mugs and put them in the dishwasher. I might turn on a TV show, read my book, or write.

What would you talk about over a cup of cocoa?


emilymcb said...

Oh how I wish I could sit and talk about books with you over a cup of cocoa!

A Mitton said...

I love this. Can we make a date? I'm coming back down the weekend of November 3 so I can fly to California with my mom and drive a car back up on Monday-Wednesday. I haven't decided exactly when I'll be in Tualatin, but once I have the schedule down I'll let you know. Deal?

Denise Wood said...

Be there in five.

michelle said...

I'd say that we have so much in common. I'm a hibernator and I pat myself on the back over most social contact! I've never been one to hold every baby, but I wish I could hold Asher.

Motherhood made me vulnerable, too. That is the perfect way to put it.

I wish I could sit and chat on your couch!

Samara said...

I wish I could join you for a cup of cocoa!

Ande said...

Oh this sounds divine. If only we lived closer I'd come over right now. Well, actually, I'd shower first. Then I would ask you all those things and hold Asher and tell you how sweet he is. I'd try not to overstay my welcome, but it would probably be hard to want to leave. Then I'd ask when I could return the favor.

Melissa Marilyn said...

I would love a Charlotte date! Discussing literature, drinking hot cocoa, and doting on Asher sound perfect! I can't wait for your visit in November so I can meet the new(est) man in your life. I am already planing on smelling his head while he's cradled on my shoulder and patting his little bum. Hope that's ok. :) Sure wish you lived closer!

Hannah said...

Lovely. Mmmm. Cocoa. I can't wait until Target starts stocking TimTams again.

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