I spend hours playing, patient, generous, giving all my attention to Zoe with no phone or computer or chore or book close by. I am a calm and willing participant in Little People parades. I lovingly structure how to clean up each toy before moving on to the next one. I give cuddles and sympathetic nods when frustration reigns and enthusiastic responses to the triumphant building of block houses and Lego masterpieces.
At the end, Zoe throws a fit over having to wash her hands before lunch and as she lies on the ground, kicking and crying, I think: what did I do to deserve this?
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She wakes up from her nap and runs to me, hair curly and moist with sweat, nose running, eyes still half closed. She curls up next to me, head on my big belly and lies still. I stroke her head with one hand as she reaches up to hold my other hand. My big, rough, puffy fingers intertwine with her impossibly smooth, small ones and we stay this way for a long, precious time.
And I think: what did I do to deserve this?
2 comments:
This post makes me want baby here, now.
What a good mommy you are
What a perfect description of motherhood.
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