Two Years ago

*note to those who read my blog yet hate kids - might want to skip this one. It's heavy on da schmoopy.

** Last night after I posted that blog, I'd gotten into bed and not five minutes later I heard the awful sounds of vomiting over the monitor, thus beginning an 8-hour shift of crying, not sleeping, and more vomiting. There is nothing worse than seeing your child suffer and not being able to help at all. Doing 3 loads of laundry at 4am is also not fun. She is much improved today.

******

This time 2 years ago (12:14 am) I was in the shower, shaving. I have no idea why I was doing this - some part of me had to have some control perhaps. Amazingly, at that point I still thought I would give a shit about ANYTHING once the time came (which I didn't, the least of all whether or not my legs were prickly). The truth is I was too nervous and scared to sleep, because I had to go to the hospital at 4:00 am to be induced so we could get the Pooks from the Inside to the Outside. (Note to preggos: avoid induction if at all possible. I have many reasons to say this. Trust me when I say pitocin is no friend of yours.)

 I remember sleeping a little bit, then getting up and leaving, saying goodbye to my brothers who had come to stay with us an offer support (they were still awake, playing video games in the living room). We went to Harris Teeter and sat in the car eating donuts and drinking orange juice from little plastic jugs. We sat in the car in the dark in nervous silence and then went on to the hospital. I remember looking up at the sky as we walked into the admissions office, clutching my body pillow and thinking how different the world would be the next time I stepped out into it.

And it was.

Two years. Two years of laughter and tears and happy screeches and sad vomit. Two years of new things. Two years of exhaustion and elation. My little baby isn't a baby anymore, she's a little girl. And the world is so much more exciting and hopeful and scary through her eyes.

I am so proud of her intelligence, of her adventurous spirit, of her sense of humor and timing. I can't take credit for these things, of course, they are just who she is. So maybe "proud" isn't the right word - I am honored to be her mother, her steward, her guide. (I am trying really hard not to screw up in these endeavors, and it is my biggest fear that I will)

My heart almost bursts when she gives me a "runnyhug" (a run-and-hug) and throws those little chubby arms around my neck, proclaiming "I yuv-ooh, mommee!"
I just can't imagine a more simple, perfect love than that.

I could write on and on about this kid and how much our lives were lacking her unbridled joy and enthusiam before two years ago, but I think I'll just end by saying "Happy Birthday, my Pookiebear. I yuv-ooh so much."

ps- Yes, I'm aware that nearly all parents feel this way about their children, and that my child is not *technically* the brightest, funnest kid ever devised. But that's how it's supposed to be - parents love their kids and love to be around them. It's nothing more complicated than that.

pss - My grandmother was concerned about my last post. Not because I confessed to wanting to sex up a pop star when I was a teenager, but because I misspelled "cantaloupe." She pointed out that I'd once also misspelled "avocado" when typing out a salsa recipe. So, to those of you playing the home game, once you get your "proper fruit spellings" homework finished and turned in, you are free run along and be a groupie.
(Note to Grandma: I yuv-ooh lots. I sometimes also misspell "pomegranate." I just thought you should know.)

Comments

[Otis]

Happy birthday to mom and leetle girl :)

[old gray mare]

Yep! It's hard to imagine life B.P. And she IS the brightest, funniest child ever!