Hands make the best mobiles.

Leave a comment

Yes, they do.

Pony,

I really don’t think I am going to win any mothering awards this week.  I am sick.  I hate being sick.  And in my sickness I made the cardinal mom mistake,  I didn’t stop, look, and listen to you when you were telling me something very important and instead went ahead with my own agenda.  I was convinced you wanted to take a bath with me when in fact you were way overtired and overstimulated as it was and you expressed that perfectly.  I ignored you because I wanted to bathe with you so badly and it had gone so well the night before.  But the night before you were napped and happy.  Last night you were not.  Needless to say, after the bath and the fan and the bright lights you were taken over the edge as I tried to get you ready for bed.  It took about 10 minutes holding you in different positions till you calmed down enough to bury your face in my neck and take a breather.  It’s funny, I don’t mind you freaking out if you are in my arms but in another room, I can’t take it.

However, the sweetest thing did occur as a result.  You spent a good 5 minutes afterwards telling me exactly how you felt.  It was by far the longest conversation we have ever had.  You were so clear and concise.  You didn’t mince words, not even once.  I was super impressed with your vocabulary (already) and touched that you would share so much with me, that you trusted me enough now to tell me how you really feel.  I hope I can always be that person for you.  The one you know you can always be yourself with because I will never judge you for having big emotions.  They don’t scare me anymore. I want to be that safe harbor for you.  I didn’t have that.  It’s really important, I think.

How did you get to be so beautiful??  I could stare at you all day, and I do.  I hope it doesn’t weird you out too much.  I’m a little obsessed with the perfectness of you.  Even your poop smells delicious!  Much better than my farts, just ask Dad.

It totally trips me out that you came from me.  I guess that’s why none of your bodily fluids freak me out, because they were created foremost inside of me, so you are a part of me, really.  Whoa.  Twilight zone.  I still can’t wrap my head around it.  All babies are a miracle to me and the best argument for God.

Your Papa and I realized something last night- how we really are the yin and yang of parenting ( I imagine most are) but as I see soothing you to sleep as something immensely gratifying and rewarding he sees you soothing yourself to sleep in exactly the same way.  I imagine this is why you picked us, because if it was left up to me you might never learn independence and if it were left up to him you might never learn dependence as a good thing.  So together, we try to meet in the middle.  Yin yang.  Balance.  Moderation.  The middle road. Too much of a good thing is still too much.

Nama Jill left today, it was really nice having her here.  I miss a village.  We need a village.  Huts and hunting.  I yearn for simpler times.

This was written by Elizabeth Gilbert.  It’s pretty fabulous although after reading it I couldn’t help but feel inadequate compared to her.

Five books? Really?  Humph.  I guess I kind of missed the whole message.  Or maybe it’s because I’ve picked myself up from falling down I’ve made it into an art form of sorts.  I am the first to screw up boldly and badly.  And the first to admit it.

I have never been more proud than I am proud of being your Mom, Pony.

Nothing else in the world, no published book, no starring role could ever compare to what I feel when I look at you.

Big mad divine love,

Mom

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s