I don’t want to be afraid. I want to accept this new part of my life with the ease and pleasure and joyfulness it deserves.
It’s not to say I’m not joyful. I am. I’ve arrived (hopefully) at a point in my daughter’s development where the happy moments outnumber the tears. Although… this morning’s Siri-induced argument over whether or not she needed to wear snow pants over her tights and dress could set us back – Siri and I won, by the way, it’s very cold. I enjoy making crafts with her, and watched her excitement as I helped her make a crown for her upcoming birthday. These milestones I know are fleeting and short, and I can’t help but think about the next time I’ll be going through them.
I enjoy her self-sufficiency. I enjoy it in a way I never expected I would; not from a “oh, that gives me a break when you’re going to the bathroom by yourself” point of view (ok, that is a help) but more from a pride standpoint. While she can’t yet tie shoelaces perfectly, watching her carefully balance the milk carton and pour it into her own cup makes me tear up. She delights in doing things “all by myself, Mommy” and I find increasing delight in her.
This isn’t to say that I loathed changing diapers (ok, sometimes, the up the tush and around the neck poop I didn’t love) or that I didn’t delight in those operatic vocal runs which started around the four month mark when she discovered LOUD wasn’t just reserved for crying about, well, anything really. I just enjoy that I can talk to her and engage with her on a level that’s beyond belly kisses and breastfeeding (the former she still gets).
The ode to my daughter sounds blunted when I think about the changes we’ll both experience soon. A move. Life changes. School changes. I know it doesn’t make me a bad person to concentrate on her, but it feels sometimes that I’m not giving everything else a chance. We’ll start 5775, G-d willing, with a very different set of priorities and routines than we have in the past. Her life is about to change, and she doesn’t know how much. I wish I shared that luxury instead of being trapped in cycles of happiness, excitedness and abject fear.
There’s a part of me that has a fear of being happy to get to this point. I said שהחינו for the first time this morning. I finally felt I was able to move past it and really be appreciative of where I’m at. Where we’re at. Nothing is ever an ideal time, but moving forward this time feels right.
So much for a hiatus.