Ruby still naps every day, Margot doesn’t. Sometimes I get caught up in what I need to accomplish! during that precious time, asking Margot to tag along with me in the sewing studio, follow me into the chicken coop or garden or kitchen. Work, chores and dinner need to happen, no doubt. But, my urgency isn’t always appropriate or necessary. Recently I read this post by my friend Rachel and I so identified with her words. She held a friend’s new baby:
I got to hold him and squeeze his thighs and kiss his forehead and be reminded of what a blessing babies are. It had been so long since either of my peeps were such tiny, squishy things, I felt like I was holding some rare and mystical creature. And then I started to worry, did I hold my babies enough? Did I cherish their babyhood enough? Was I trying to get too many things done while they were busy growing into 7-year olds?
I always feel immense relief and contentment on the days I let go and settle into just hanging out with my first born for several hours of dense, easy joy. I study her movement, follow her thought. I squint her into a furry blob and she looks like she’s 10 months old in our backyard, stuffing her mouth with grass. I can hear her shrill song as she sees Alice tumble across the yard. And then my eyes snap open, her silhouette crisps into the smart, witty kid she has grown into. “Hey mom? If two plus two is four then four plus two must be six. I just really want you to sew me a long, twirly, shiney dress sometime soon.”
On this day, we grabbed my purple plastic basket of nail polish and sparkley face stuff (the same one I’ve had since high school) and made our way to the fort where we gabbed and laughed.
Margot: Mama, why don’t you like nail polish?
Me: Well I just feel more myself without painted toes. I’ve never liked it. That’s all.
Margot: Oh. I love it. Can I paint your face?
Me: Sure.
Margot: I will make you beautiful. I think you are already beautiful.
Me: I feel the same way about you.
Margot: MOM. Stop smiling! I am trying to draw a lamb family on your forehead.
