I try to be all badass Super Nanny but this crazy thing happened once I got all healed & whole & less twisty inside – I cannot bear to hear my child cry. & not in the way that sent me screaming for the shower every night at six months postpartum, but that it feels like my gut has been ripped out & flipped over my head & I’m wading knee-deep in my uterus. THAT is what it feels like when my child cries for me.
So when Harrison starts screaming at bedtime & I’ve told him firmly to get back in bed three separate times, he stares up at me with tears falling & says, “Up!!” oh, my heart.
I find myself all sternly inner-dialoguing how I’m setting us up for failure when he’s three as I make my way to the rocking chair. But then I remember how I’m knee-deep in my uterus & how soon, Harry will be going to sleepovers where he will be embarrassed to ever admit he was rocked to sleep & I can’t help myself. I sit & I rock & tell him stories about the man on the moon until he’s calm. His heartbeat slows & his breathing steadies & I know he’s asleep because that’s the kind of thing that mother’s just know.
He’s drooling on my shoulder. It’s time to put the kiddo to bed, but in his earlier rage, all blankets & pillows ended in a pile on the floor. Which means that I have to get up from the chair & put the bedding back together with 30 lbs of live ammunition on my shoulder. Doug to the nursery, I think into the universe. I wait a few minutes. Hey, buddy. To the nursery for pillow recon.
I contemplate the length of my legs, wondering if I can grab the pillow corner with my toes & toss it into the bed. If I can do that, then I’ll have a legit excuse to run away with the circus. I feel the drool seeping through my jammies. The kid stirs & I freeze & send imaginary red flares into the sky. & I’m all WHY IS HE NOT READING MY ESP?! DOUG TO THE NURSERY! DOUG TO THE NURSERY!
What good is being married almost six years if he can’t read my mind?
