The other day, or rather evening, after I dropped my bookbag and computer on the den floor and rushed to VeeGee's room to join K in singing her goodnight, K ruined my night. He recounted his afternoon playing Super Dad and topped it off by showing me a lovely little picture he'd taken of VeeGee - in a tree.
"I was picking up leaves and messing around in the front yard and then, all of a sudden, I turn around, and she's climbed up in the tree! Here, look! Doesn't she look cute? See how proud she is?! She said, 'Hey, Daddy, look me!' and she was in the tree. I'm so proud; aren't you proud?"
Yeah. I'm proud.
See, I'm used to missing things these days. K and VeeGee play games and do art and inspect backflow prevention devices together two or three days a week. And VeeGee and Me? Well, sometimes she sits close to me while I work, with the background sounds of SpongeBob and Diego.
I'm almost finished with this danged thesis, and so, I tell myself, I'll soon have time to roll around on the floor with my little girl, to go to the park in the middle of the afternoon and learn how to hook rugs or something. But, I wonder, will I spend all this presumed "extra" time that way? I really don't know.
I watch K and VeeGee interact and I often wonder if he's got some kind of inside-track to/for her entertainment that I just don't have, or, maybe (and this is the kicker) want. I'm really good at making decisions about her medical care (and that's been a full-time job much of my mother-career), and I'm great at dressing her really cute on a very reasonable budget. I manage her poop cycle with relative success, and I make sure that her teacher never mentions anything that might suggest that VeeGee came "out of my tummy." I research every single hiccup and understand the rare permutations of every potential and real anomaly of her body.
I'm not whining. I'm just wondering. So many of my fellow mom-friends seem to be filled with such delight in their children. And, I do feel delight; I really do. It's just not what I thought it would be, I suppose.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
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3 comments:
beautifully written. As a mom, i've found that delight is far more specific than universal and it has everything to do with seeing the light in your child.
c
I can totally relate to everything in this post, Wendy. I think a lot of Moms feel this way... or at least I hope so :)
I feel this way SO often! It's one reason I write about delight in my blog...so I can remember that I actually do delight in my kids when it seems like all I get to do are the mundane nuts-and-bolts of daily living and feeding and discipline and pediatrician's appointments and laundry. It seems like Daddy comes home and gets to spoil and pamper and play while I collapse after doing all the "not-so-fun" stuff. But my blog has been good for me because I have forced myself to see the magical little moments that happen each day that I often overlook in the stress of just getting through each day. And I remind myself that the baby cries more with me because he knows I am the one to satisfy his needs and he smiles and plays more with Daddy because his tummy is full and he is healthy and happy because of my care. It seems unfair at times, but I remind myself to stop and enjoy the hugs and smiles that I DO get. Once my daughter told me that when she grows up, she wants to be a really good Mommy, just like me. I think that moment made up for a LOT!
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