There are certain moments throughout my day that remind me how wonderful it is to be a mother. When two-year-old Lizzy runs into the room as fast as her little legs can go and throws herself into my arms with a look of gleeful terror on her face, I can't help but feel special. She's only fleeing from her growling, roaring, playing father, but even in play I represent safety to her. I hope she always feels safe running to me, whatever her problems.
When I find myself quietly doing dishes all by myself (no toddler
insistently splashing at my elbow), I have to check on her, just to see what she's up to. I never know what I will find. Once I found her reading a book to herself on her little princess couch. It was dark in her room so I turned on her light. She looked at me with a very grumpy expression and said, "Hey, my wood chip is sleeping!" Sure enough, a piece of bark from the playground was nestled on the pillow of her crib where she had carefully placed it. Obviously she was sitting in the dim lighting, reading until it fell asleep, just like Mommy and Daddy do for her. I turned the light back off and went back to my dishes.
I love my cuddly baby boy, too. Though it makes sleeping somewhat difficult for me, I love the snuffling, grunting snorts that he makes in his little bassinet next to my bed. I can't wait until he sleeps through the night so that I can too, but for now I enjoy snuggling with him frequently, at all hours.
Today we covered empty oatmeal containers with crayoned paper and called them drums. We marched around the house (with a somewhat bewildered
Barak slung under one arm) and had our own little parade. One of the best and worst phrases I hear is, "Let's do it again!" Best, because I know I've just done something fun. That always makes me feel kind of like a
rockstar. Worst, because there is no telling how many times I'm going to have to do it.
Yesterday, Lizzy told me she was going to marry me. I wouldn't trade being a mother for anything.
