And, while her father and I were fighting about laundry and dishes and sweeping the floor, my youngest daughter cut her first tooth. The night before her eight month birthday, C4 got a tooth. On the bottom. And you would never have known. Reminds me of her sister getting her first tooth during Christmas Eve Service.
It’s hard being a baby. The struggle is real. She wants to move everywhere – all at once. She’s, quite honestly, doing a good job of it. Slithering and pushing and pulling herself across the floor. Surprisingly, we’ve had good success leaving her in the pack’n’play with assorted toys. She totally entertains herself. C4 may start to whine, but all she wants is a little snuggle – then it’s diving back in to pick up where she left off gumming the wooden rhino or mauling a plastic turtle.
Today is Veteran’s Day, and K was off work. He’d intended to cross things off his (massive) honey-do list, but the nanny is sick. Again. And so he spent the better part of the morning delighting his daughters and then the afternoon at an informal job interview. He left during the best part of the day – naptime. I love it when the quiet steals across the house – both girls softly snoring in their respective rooms. The only sound is me furiously typing, trying to fit in a full days work in the space of a few hours.
C4 wakes up looking sort of stoned. C3 wakes up from nap with a cry. Today, there was no cry – just some banging. So, I strolled (strolling is the best sort of word for what I do with my walker) to see what was going on across the house. The smell hit me when I turned the corner. There she was – no pants (always a bad sign) with poop up and down her little body. She informed me she was okay, but she was trying to clean up. Indeed, she was. She had a broom and was rubbing poop into the floor. There were piles of poop around the room. This is the stuff of motherhood, I tell you.
Bathtime for everyone!
It’s 22 days till my surgery and there’s a long list of to-dos. I know it will all get done, because it always does. There’s three more weekends and one of them is a long weekend at that. I slept last night and I have confidence I’ll sleep tonight. This weekend, we’ll cross things off the list. We’ll play with our children. And the fights about the laundry and the dishes and the sweeping won’t seem as important or dire. This is hard, these things we’re going through.
Not as hard as the veteran who came home without a job. Or without a leg. Not as hard as a single mom stretching a paycheck. Not as hard as my economics final in 2001. It’s all about perspective, and I get that. We’ve had a tough, tough year. A new job, a new baby, a major car accident, and now a new hip. It’s put us through the ringer – emotionally, financially, and spiritually. I’m not complaining here as much as I am trying to make an accurate note of how this family survives life.
It’s a new tooth. It’s a poop-splosion. It’s afternoon bathtime with two giggling daughters. I’d say it is the little things, but these things that are happening to us aren’t little – they are just our things.