Revelations

The Babyman and I took a walk today.

We strolled up our street and into the swank housing development across the main road. We walked and we talked and we watched the butterflies flutter by.

Home again, home again, jiggety-jig. Then we played in the back yard for awhile. He got soaked in the water table, I tapped my foot to Queen, blaring tinny but loud, from my iPhone.

Just me and The Babyman, from 9 a.m. to 3:15 p.m. today. For the first time since he was born, I was able to just be with him. To see him.

I got to see him, because his big sister was at school. Pre-K started today, the first day of the rest of her educational career. I say this because her pre-K program is all day, five days a week. She eats breakfast with me, but for the first time ever, she eats her lunch at school.

Today she flounced in her ruffled tulle skirt and clutched the handle of her brand-new Barbie lunch bag. She squinted into the sun, protesting mightily as I tried to capture the day using my cell phone camera.

“Moooom!” she moaned, imitating an older version of herself. “I can’t see!”

But she struck a pose anyway. “How do I look?” she asked, looking over my shoulder at the result of my efforts.

You look beautiful, I told her. And she did. She looked ancient, like she never had giant, edible thighs or a bare pate. She looked like such a big girl that my heart ached.

Drop-off went smoothly, and she blew me a kiss to keep in my pocket for later. I watched her bounce into her new school, noting with amusement that she was already talking the ears off her new teacher.

When we got home, I put the boy down for his morning nap. Suddenly, the house was quiet.

Quiet.

I noodled about for a bit before slowly starting to tidy up. As I waited for the kitchen floor to dry, I sat on my sofa and looked around, satisfied that order had been restored, at least for awhile. And when my son woke up, I actually had a chance to enjoy him.

We played and laughed and read board books. He ran into my arms for a spontaneous hug, and even pressed his wet, open mouth against my cheek in an exuberant toddler kiss. His little personality, his cheeky sense of humor were on full display today.

He glowed with all the attention, and he was happier today than I think I’ve ever seen him.

I love both of my children with all my heart, but spending every waking moment dividing my attention between them wears me to a nub. I learned that today, when I had six hours to spend focused on just one of them.

And then, when my daughter came home, her brother went for a nap. I talked to her, listened to her stories about her day, ate a cookie with her. I was able to really hear her for the first time in 12 months. More, really, if you count the last, horrid days of my pregnancy last summer.

I saw her with incredible clarity today, and she is a revelation. Strong and beautiful, smart and sensitive. She was brave today. She ate lunch from a bag, which for her is a huge stride in a positive direction when it comes to her relationship with food.

She makes new friends with an enviable ease, and she has the most loving heart I’ve ever known.

Today, my universe finally came into focus. I think maybe, just maybe, I can do this. Not only can I do it, but maybe I can be a happy mother.

They deserve a happy mother.