Jane Jacobs as a mother

Yesterday, Leo told me that he remembered being in my belly and, in a rather startling revelation, he informed me that there is an entire city in my belly where he lived before he was born. Supposedly, it has trees and squirrels and buses and houses and "even a tower, like the CN tower or the Eiffel tower or one of those ones like that."

Obviously, I was a little surprised. having no idea that there were pigeons and stray cats roaming around inside of me. No cars, however. Leo made that very clear. No cars and no people other than a few bus drivers and him, when he lived there.

I asked him when I had built this city and he told me that it must have been a long time ago, before Aidan was born, because he was pretty sure that Aidan had lived there too, when he was in my belly. And Russell had definitely lived there after him. He was sure about that because the bus drivers told him to leave his back pack behind, when he came out to be born, because Russell was going to need that backpack. We then had a long discussion about the back pack and how, when it comes time to buy a new back pack for him to take to senior kindergarten in the fall, we will never be able to find a back pack that is as good as that blue and orange back pack that he had before he was born.

Somehow, Leo always seems to say exactly what I need him too. My life is so full of impermanence and futility these days. I don't make anything that lasts. Brownies disappear in a day. Laundry is washed and folded and worn and re washed and re folded and re worn. I unload the dishwasher only to turn around and load it again, almost immediately. I tidy up blocks and books and paper clutter, all to no avail because ten minutes later my house is twice as messy as it was when I started. At the end of the day, or the week, or the month, it's rare that I can say "Well, I accomplished this." "I changed that." All I do is keep the daily cogs turning, keep the pool chlorinated, keep the children alive.

But I have built a city somewhere inside of me. Long before I became a mom, before I resigned myself to this tidal life, I was building homes and trees and spires and back packs inside me. I hope it lasts. Not for the sake of any more babies. I'm so grateful for the babies I have but I'm done with babies. Just for my own sake. I might need it someday.

I thanked Leo for telling me about the city. I told him that I was amazed that I had been able to build it all by myself, that I couldn't really believe that I was smart enough or strong enough to build a whole city on my own, that I didn't know I was capable of building things like that.

"Yes, you can, Mom. You could build me!"

It's true. He's way more complicated than a city. I told you he always says exactly what I need to hear.