I’ve been a mama for three years. Sometimes it feels like I’ve been a mama forever and other times it feels like I’ve blinked and all my dreams have come true in an instant. I look at this chatting (always chatting, unless she’s singing or humming. She even manages to chat or hum in her sleep most nights.) dancing, bouncing, little girl and I can hardly believe she was ever that helpless infant I brought home from the hospital. Except she is still every inch that infant who poked out her tongue minutes after birth and smiled early in her first month of life. She’s still the little person who was dancing and bouncing around my womb in her first ultrasound.
Jonathan’s parents invited us to join them at a resort in northern Missouri, so we packed up pink cake, pink icing, pink candles, pink wrapped gifts, pink plate (for the pink cake) and a tickled pink birthday girl (and her completely oblivious brother) on the birthday morning and arrived at Grandma and Grandpa’s condo to find it decorated with pink streamers and pink balloons. After an unsuccessful attempt to create fire with a glass top stove and paper (because mama forgot the matches for the candles) we borrowed a lighter from the security guard in exchange for a piece of the cake when it was cut. It was, under the circumstances, very generous negotiating on his part.
After presents and cake with ice cream (not pink. chocolate. very fashionable combination.) we spent the rest of the day – and much of the next four days in fact – in the three on-site pools.
After a bed time story from Grandpa, the mackerdoodle was lying in her little bed, her eyes heavy. She said, “Mama. It too light. I can’t. . . Mama? I can’t fall. . . ” and then came the tell-tale sounds of sleep. The sleep she was trying to tell me wouldn’t come.
She’s three and it’s been a lifetime.