I sometimes write this blog in such a sanitized way that Ellie could read it at almost any age. But being a mother is a powerful and transformative experience; the way that nature ensures that babies get what they need from their mothers is she breaks our hearts a little bit. I am both softer and stronger, both more courageous and more deeply afraid. She is the deepest joy; the smaller joys of sleeping and spontaneity are more elusive these days. Oh no. It cannot be safe to love someone so much.
We can kick the things we care less about aside. But love for a child is insistent. So we may find ourselves wondering, for example, if we should leave our whole lives behind so that we can make fresh applesauce daily, kiss all booboos immediately, sing our children to sleep for their afternoon nap. The prevailing wisdom these days is that it is fine to try to raise your children in the small window of time that you used to devote to watching 30 Rock reruns, plus weekends and vacations. The prevailing wisdom is that it costs nothing but perhaps a mother's sanity to leave her child for forty plus hours a week. It is excellent for children, the theory goes, to be socialized and develop on immune system before they can speak, and children who see their mothers in nights and weekends will have no more tenuous bond than children whose mothers are ever present cruise directors. File this under theories that are convenient for both feminism and corporate America. But I don't know if it is true. We have the investments we make. A friendship withers on the vine without care -- even two friends who mutually agree to remain close will not have done so if they do not go through the motions of being in each other's lives. Are there really such expedient shortcuts in parenting? Can it have meant nothing that my mom gave up working outside the home while all three of us were young? Of course it meant something. Of course my entire psyche was different for knowing she was there and my brothers and I were the main event but her. So I don't know if it is true.
I do understand how important economic power is for women. I am the granddaughter of a woman who married a viciously abusive second husband; would she have done so if she could, by herself, have supported her four boys? I understand how important women's voices are, how critical it is that we add our gifts as we come together to address our many conundra. And I hope that I am raising a daughter who could be anything, including both a mother and a doctor, scientist, engineer, lawyer, senator, entrepreneur. But it pulls terribly at my heartstrings that although I believe without question that nothing is more important than my daughter, the minutes and hours of my life tell a different story.
And so, Ellie and I are both going through changes. Ellie, by the way, has her first tooth -- bottom center and razor sharp! I've included a few pictures -- I should have taken far more. I especially regret hardly taking any photos with my parents and Ellie while they were visiting! I vow to do better in the next few weeks...
Ellie has become terrifyingly mobile in the changing table! So we are offering her many distractions to help her keep still. So far, mixed results.
I really love our nighttime ritual. On weeknights, we play for a bit when we get home, Ellie has pureed fruits and vegetables for dinner, she takes a warm relaxing bath, and I slather Cetaphil cream onto her. Then, we read four books, she drinks a bottle and I sing, and she settles into her crib for the night.
Ellie is a burgeoning bookworm!
It has been fun to watch Ellie anticipate her meals with more enthusiasm!
Ellie loves the company of her ducky pal in the bathtub.
As is not infrequently the case, one of us is ready for bed, and the other is a baby.
Ellie went for her first swim in the backyard kiddie pool. It was a hit!
After Ellie had her swim, she took a snooze.
Ellie cannot fit Zoe in her mouth, so she is settling for the stuffed, miniature version.
Ellie and I couldn't decide whether to vote for Northam or Periello, so we sat this one out. But Daddy voted.
More evening stories. The Sandra Boynton books are a lifesaver.
