On Monday, when I realized I still didn’t feel fit to live and was sure the end was near, I called Mimi and essentially threw myself on her mercy and pleaded with her to take Caroline for the night. She is lucky I called first because a part of me just wanted to pack Caroline’s little bag and show up at her door so we could look extra desperate and pitiful.
I live for the drama.
Anyway, she was more than happy to do it and I was more than grateful. I came home, took a hot bath, put on my pajamas and got in bed. It was 5:30.
Had I not felt so sick, it would have been lovely. But even so, it was pretty nice and I woke up this morning feeling like a new person ready to face the world and solid foods again. Except for crispy beef tacos. They are dead to me.
Mimi brought Caroline home around 10:00 a.m. and when I asked what time Caroline had woken up that morning she told me that I didn’t want to know. Seeing as how I knew Bops had left for the airport around 4:45 a.m., I had a pretty good idea. Needless to say, my girl was tired.
We made a much needed trip to the grocery store and then I told her she had to take a nap in her room as opposed to just resting in my bed, otherwise known as letting the television entertain my child so that Mama can take some deep breaths and recover from the morning and enjoy the quietness of the quiet.
She fought me for all of 5 minutes, which means she was about to fall asleep standing up with her lunch hanging out of her mouth. Pretty soon, it was quiet from her room and I knew she must be sound asleep, because if she weren’t, she would be coming out at 3 minute intervals to inform me of all the sounds she was hearing, or all the things she might need in her bed, or that she wasn’t tired AT ALL.
After a 2 hour nap, she woke up and we had a wonderful afternoon. We had snacks, we looked for caterpillars, we practiced letters, played games, and then it was time for me to start getting dinner ready. She asked if she could help me cook and I said sure. She pulled up a stool and I started measuring out spices for her to dump in a bowl. While she was pouring, she stopped, put her arm around my neck, and said, “Oh Mama, we are the bestest buddies!”
I don’t mean to sound like a total sap (too late!) but I got so teary. It seems like this year of being 3 has been tough on both of us. She is so independent, so headstrong, so determined to fight me on everything, but in that moment we were bestest buddies and it made me feel like at the end of the day I must be doing something right. It made me remember how much it means to her when I let go of my OCD tendencies and let her help me do things, and convicted me that I need to do it more often.
After dinner was ready, she helped me set the table and then we all sat down in the dining room as a family, which we hardly ever do, because she usually goes to bed so early due to the non-napping. She was so excited and seemed so big to me as she blessed our food and chatted away at the dinner table about who she likes to hug at school and who she doesn’t like to hug. Then in mid-sentence, she stopped, looked up, and said, “Oh Mama! We have VERY sparkly lights in here! Are these new?”
And it reminded me that so much is still new to her, even simple things like the way the chandelier lights look in the dining room after dark. I don’t want to be so busy getting through these days that I don’t stop to appreciate all the magic they hold for both of us.
She has a measuring stick hanging on the wall in her room and her new favorite thing is for me to measure her “ON THAT SCALE, MAMA!”. At least once a day we have to go in there to see if she’s gotten any bigger and in the last week, she hasn’t.
But it’s just a matter of time.