Good

I am proud of my occupation: Mother. 

I couldn't always say that. I was never embarrassed of it, per se, except when high-powered looking people started flaunting their accomplishments. Then I would add to the conversation with my accomplishments. (Silly.) But now I'm coming to terms with the high honor it is to be a mother, a nurturer. 

I see the beauty in holding my infant and knowing that sometimes there is no cure for her fussiness but a long strong hold from momma. I smile at those times. It's good.

It's a job that is constantly changing. I kind of like that challenge. I like walking side by side Morgan as she sheds her babyness and embraces her girlness. I like painting her fingernails as an excuse to talk to her about girly things; it's one of the only times to get her to sit still. And as much as I disliked educating her about the female body parts (at her insistence), I like the fact that she accepted her femininity with surprising excitement. It's good.

Today I had an unexpected visit to the pediatrician. I went to pick up Morgan from preschool and in the course of a conversation with another mother, it had been suggested that baby Eve had an ear infection. I went to the doctor straight from there. In fact, it wasn't until we were at the doc's office that I realized that there was dried chocolate sauce dribbled down my shirt and onto my pants. The doctor was giving me instructions and I caught her eye volleying between my eyes and the stain on my shirt. Eyes. Stain. Eyes. Stain. I was very tempted to make light of my dirty situation but I told myself: "No. This is your uniform. Wear it proudly. Do not bring up your chocolate stain to the doctor." I spoke as intelligently as I could and did not break eye contact with the beautifully coiffed doctor. That was good, too.

And then, when I wearily came home, the baby was crying more and I needed to take a break from her. (She was, after all, fed, changed and warm.) So I went into my "office"... the ever-luxurious hot shower. I went primarily to drown out the sound of crying. I went to relax my weary muscles. And it didn't hurt to clean up a bit, too. It was very good.

And now... now I am blogging because tempted as I may be to pick up my adorable infant (who I think is now asleep)... I need to respect this precious time to recoup and become new again. Or at least new-ish. It's all good.