velvetpage | Parental fun is. . .

Having an apparently perfectly happy toddler decide to scream and throw up within five minutes of being put to bed, necessitating a complete change of toddler, bed, and parent. (She waited until the parent went in to comfort her before letting loose.) Also necessitating an immediate quick bath for said child, as a result of unmentionable stuff in her hair which arrived there via her sleeve when I told her to put her hands up to have her shirt removed. The quick bath happened while the parent in the scenario was still in her underwear, having chucked her soiled clothing into the pile of baby linen on its way to the washing machine.

We warmed up by blow-drying her hair. Usually I'd let it air-dry, but there was no way I was waiting half an hour for that to happen when it was already nine thirty.

And with all that, she was still only half an hour late going to bed.

She sang along with the second lullaby, as she had with the first. I love it when she does that.

I have trouble remembering sometimes that I wasn't always a mother, that there was a time in my life when there was no Elizabeth. It seems so incredible to me that I had a hand (and some other parts) in creating this wonderful little girl. And yet I looked at her expression as she was getting her hair dried, and I saw pictures of her father as a child. I looked at the hair and saw myself as a little girl. She's ours, and she's fully herself. I keep thinking I couldn't possibly love her more, and every day proves me wrong.

This started as a rant. Non-parents simply will not understand how a story about baby vomit could turn into a prayer of thankfulness. The parents among you, or some with good imaginations and parental instinct, are all smiling and nodding right now.

God bless our children.

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Aww.

...is even getting a little teary-eyed!

I remember that feeling. It's starting to come back, lately. The one where you hold a friend's baby for five minutes and get all starry-eyed. The one that had me holding newborns when Elizabeth was six months old, and crying because my newborn had grown up. :) It gets worse when you get pregnant, btw. All those hormones.

Oh, mercy, yes. Going to LLL meetings and holding the wee babies... ouch. And also, yay. :)

*L* I'm actually anticipating all of it.

If you haven't already, start praying for a pregnancy like mine. Seriously. I had no sickness, just one or two mornings when I didn't want to eat much. I was very tired, but I've never heard of anyone avoiding that and teaching is not a particularly sedentary job. Up until about mid-February (around the middle of month seven) I was having the time of my life. It started to get really uncomfortable after that, but again, you can't avoid that when your centre of gravity has shifted forward about six inches and changes with every energetic fetal kick.

The part that gets worse is the hormones. I've always cried easily, but it was getting rather ridiculous. I would talk about how sad it was that so many of my students had not been wanted as I wanted Elizabeth (yes, she had a name at that point) and I'd start to cry in the hall as the kids came in!

I'm also praying for a labor like my sister's. Both of her girls came after less than three hours.

Amen. :)

"Non-parents simply will not understand how a story about baby vomit could turn into a prayer of thankfulness."

Not emotionally, no. But I understand the idea - you're cleaning Your Child's baby vomit up. It's a mess, and it's no fun, but if not for Your Child, you wouldn't be doing this, and isn't it wonderful to have a child...

Well, that's not how it comes off to me. It certainly doesn't always feel wonderful to have a child! I think

velvetpage is talking the satisfied feeling that (often) comes of taking care of a momentarily needy young child.

That's part of it, too, but again, not all of it. I don't think I can explain this. Certainly with all my reading, I've never yet come across a description of parenthood that fit. Language is not meant to convey the deepest emotions of our hearts.

Some universal parenthood experiences have left me cranky and argumentative where I can be, so I shall bicker with you.

Language is intended to convey those things as best it can. That's why we have words like "love".

But some things are Mysteries: they cannot be spoken of properly. Not because there's any rule against speaking of them, but because they are too subtle to describe. They must be experienced to be understood. Language certainly can refer to them, with words like "love" and "parenthood", or "spicy" or "water" for that matter, and all initiates will understand. But the non-initiates will not fully understand.

Okay, that was a poorly-constructed sentence. Language is incapable of conveying at least some of the deepest emotions of our hearts. And the initiates point is a good one. *Velvet backs away from linguistic/semantic argument*

Rhys is giving Daddy a hard time today?

Incapable of explaining them to someone who doesn't understand the concepts at least... gleep, I'm very the bitchy today.

Rhys is fine, modulo getting us up a bit earlier than I would have liked. Discussions of Rhys' future (and future family plans) kept Vicki and me up 'til very very late, though.

You're close. Quite close. I think it might be more about the connection she gives me to the rest of the world, that I never had before. I was always interested and somewhat active in my community and in politics, but since she came along I've got a much bigger stake in things. In and of herself, she's incredible, it's incredible that she's mine, it's incredible that just by being she could inspire this in me. She's the best thing I've ever done, and I feel sure that along with her (as yet unborn) siblings, she's the best thing I ever will do.

[Bard mews softly]

Parental fun is. . .

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