One of the things I like best about being in my fifties is that I feel like I finally know who I am. I know my likes and dislikes, my good qualities and my faults. So it came as a surprise to me, just yesterday, when I had to face an uncomfortable truth about myself. For years I've proclaimed to family and friends that I would love to have one more day with my children as the babies they were. I would just sit all day and hold them. I'd rock them, nurse them, and kiss their little necks. I'd play games and make them laugh. It would be wonderful to be back in that time when all they wanted was to be in my arms.
The new revelation came about this way. My daughter has been visiting for a few weeks with her nine month old baby girl. Claire has not been without her mom except for play periods with dad in the early morning. But Claire grew very comfortable with us, and Hilary thought she'd be okay for an hour while she went for a well deserved massage.
She was more than okay, and we had a wonderful time. Her grandpa was still at school, so it was just the two of us. I read her some books, and we played on the floor. As we spent time together, though, I found myself looking at the piles of laundry and the junk that had accumulated in the living room. Through the open bedroom door, I could see my unmade bed and clothing scattered on the floor, making it look like the room belonged to hoarders. (or my teenage self.)
I couldn't stand it a moment longer, so I grabbed a babyTrekker (I have a few around here) and popped Claire on my back. My kids liked facing out, but she likes facing in. It didn't take me long to figure out that she likes a lot of singing and chatting when she's being carried. In about fifteen minutes time I'd tidied the living room, made my bed and put away a bunch of clothes. I was filled with a euphoric sense of well being as I realized that I was recreating my life with my own babies. And then the bubble burst.
I saw that, if I could do it all over again, I wouldn't just sit in the chair and rock. I wouldn't while away the hours just playing with my baby. Because, I realized, I'm just too hyper to sit still that long. Its why I designed the babyTrekker in the first place. I hated that 'stuck' feeling of being in a messy house and feeling tied to the chair. And what I hated even more than a messy house was, and is, a sad baby or toddler. We have a no cry policy in our extended family, which means that we do whatever we can to keep baby happy. It's common knowledge now that infants whose needs are met are less likely to experience depression. I'm glad that science is backing it up, but in truth, I could no more let a baby cry than I could kick a dog.
Time with my granddaughter is precious, especially since she lives so far away. I love to make her laugh. I kiss her neck, and hold her in her favorite standing position while she checks out the goodies on the coffee table. But I'm still the same person, and after awhile, I'll pop her in the carrier and we'll boogie around the house together. That's who I am. See? Now that I'm in my fifties, I have it all figured out.
