On mommying

Little is a quaint character. Cautious, creative, imaginative, talkative, calm, nurturing, obedient. Yet there are moments when she surprises me with her boldness. She's the kid who says she won't get dirty yet smears paint all over her face. And loves it. The kid who freaks out about seaweed in the ocean yet can't wait to get back into the water after getting knocked down by a wave, face-first, into the sandy waters. She loves digging in the dirt and getting soaking wet in the sprinklers. This same kid wants me to hold her hand when we are in a parking lot (thank God!) or going up and down hills or stairs, will sit and paint quietly for over an hour, and gladly eats her vegetables because she knows it's the rule. She can be whiny and high-maintenance and needy and flat-out bratty too, but even then, she does it with flair, with a glint in her eyes that tells me she knows exactly what she's doing, how she's doing it, and why. She's a two-year-old who can be reasoned with. I think she knows way more than she lets on. Even so, she's perfectly content playing "baby daycare" morning, afternoon, and night. Sometimes she wants nothing more than to sit on my lap and read books (often the same one, a thousand times, ad nauseum). Sometimes, she can't stop telling stories she made up. I love it all. I love her. I hope I'm a good enough mommy for such a great kid.

Sometimes, I wonder if I'm doing all I could for her. Sometimes I think that I'm not focused or thoughtful or neurotic enough to be a good mom. I made my own baby food, but I never bought organic produce. Little's second vegetable (after zucchini) was carrot... which some claim one is not supposed to give to infants. I think I boiled bottles and my breast pump twice before I decided sticking them in the dishwasher was good enough. I barely even know the name of baby detergent, let alone have I ever used it. I have probably disinfected her toys twice... and even then, it was because she had thrown up all over them, and I have no desire or plans to do so any time in the near (or distant) future. I often forget to wash her hands before mealtime. I'm not worrying and wondering at every bump or bruise. I have no problem letting my kid cry for five or ten minutes. I probably used to worry about a lot of things when she was a baby, but I just don't anymore. Maybe it's a good thing. I don't hang around the forums on babycenter to avoid becoming that neurotic mom who worries about everything, every step of the way and feels judged for every misstep she makes... but I do sometimes wonder if there is something I'm missing or not doing because I'm not thoughtful enough to worry about those things. Should I be providing a more structured environment? Trying to teach her new things? Should I actually disinfect those toys? Should I be playing with her more instead of letting her make up her own little world, while I just hover around, checking in on her every now and then? Honestly, these questions aren't even that nagging. I just wonder sometimes because, well, why not?

There are moments when I have what I call an "out of reality experience," sometimes when I'm watching food disappear into Little's mouth, or when she amazes me with a well-composed sentence, or when I see her precious little body running around in nothing but a diaper, that I can't believe this is my child. This is my reality. How did I get here? Sometimes, it's hard to believe. To see her as a separate person, my child, a part of me... yet apart from me. Wow. I made that? Yes. It is hard to believe some days. But in a most spectacular way.