Our Little Buddy, already 100 days into 2012!
I used to watch Oprah on occasion. I was never a rabid fan, but I did find some episodes very interesting and insightful. One of the most meaningful exchanges that I ever witnessed was an interview she did with Toni Morrison. It spoke to me and gave me a goal as a friend, a spouse, and, most importantly, as a mother.
In the interview, Toni Morrison discusses a question she asks of all parents: When your child walks in the room, does your face light up?
"When my children used to walk in the room, when they were little, I looked at them to see if they had buckled their trousers or if their hair was combed or if their socks were up," she told Oprah in 2000. "You think your affection and your deep love is on display because you're caring for them. It's not. When they see you, they see the critical face. But if you let your face speak what's in your heart...because when they walked in the room, I was glad to see them. It's just as small as that, you see."
What a profound yet simple sentiment. Does your face light up when your child (or for that matter, when anyone you care about) walks into a room? Do you project an aura of joy to be around the people you love? Or do you get caught up in trivial things, like Morrison mentioned? Or worse, do you simply acknowledge their presence, without celebrating what it means to have them there? So many times, after we lose someone, we lament on the fact we didn't show our love to them more. This simple question motivated me to make sure that I remembered just how fortunate I was to have the people I love in my life, each and every moment that they are in it. Above all, I try to maintain this mindset with Little Buddy.
That is one of the reasons that I started this blog. I wanted to cherish every special day that I get to spend with Little Buddy and not just get caught up in the routine of dirty diapers, long nights, and cleaning up messes. Setting aside time to reflect each day on the magical moments we share has caused me to be more present and aware with him all day. It has especially been forefront in my mind while he was sick this weekend.
I am convinced that one of the most frightening things in the world is being a parent of sick child, especially one that is too young to tell you what is wrong. All we could do all weekend was take the best care of him we could and assure him that all the bothersome things we were doing (force-feeding him Pedialyte, waking him up to give fever medication, letting the doctors do blood tests) were because we loved him. I know that every time we looked at him, the love and concern was evident on our faces.
Then today, as he demonstrated his full recovery by devouring every piece of food in sight, I know that my looks were filled with love and thanksgiving. His healthy happy giggles gave me so much joy. Looking for the miracle moments each day lets me rejoice in our routine, as opposed to getting bogged down by it. I was so happy that he was well enough to beg me to read him the same books over and over, to go to BBC, to play on the playground, to go out for lunch, to settle into his nap, to enjoy watching Elmo, to run around in the backyard, to make a mess at dinner, and to make a fuss when it was time for bed. Honestly, my days with him are heaven sent and I couldn't be happier to experience this with him. So even when he brings me Polar Bear, Polar Bear, What Do You Hear? for the eight time to read in an hour, I never sigh in exasperation. I laugh, scoop him up, and start making animal noises. Each moment is a treasure and I will make sure he knows how much I value this time.
Yes, we go to Jason's Deli all the time. And yes, I could get annoyed with it, but he just LOVES their grilled cheese. How can I deny him when he's finally eating again?
Enjoying some outdoor time with his furry brother.
Have a good night everyone!
LBM
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