Hazel's petite fete put a hold on this post. No matter, I'm still pregnant (despite my horrible dreams of miscarrying). Happy to be with child (lemon-sized now) though the growth and changing of my body is...perturbing. I furrow my brow at those that profess, "I LOVE being pregnant". I suppose I am selfish in this physical way: giving my whole body up to bring another life into the world. I am willing and it is worthwhile. Yet I'm always relieved, for two-hundred reasons, when the baby comes.
At Costco today a very elderly woman sidled right up to the cart full, at the time, with all three, and exclaimed how beautiful a family. I nodded and thanked. And thought to myself, 'I've made lemonade'. Children are the hardest thing to do. Children are the most magical thing I've done.
Lucy named her baby doll, after much thought and discussion, Sanuary (like the month, but with an S). When I asked her "Lucy, how did you get so cute?" She tilted her head sideways in thought then replied, "I darlinged". Magical answers. Thoughtful.
Seth inquired after the scar at my hairline. I told him when I was your age I fell at church and hit my head on the bench. To this he asked, concerned, "Who drove the car?" What? "Who drove the car home from church?" He was wondering, obviously, how I could drive home with a bloody head--because--I AM the driver of the car in his little world. I was touched at his concern and thoughtfulness.
Hazel says, "Mom." Her first word? I'm not sure, but when they begin to recognize you as "Mom" it is magical and rewarding.