Recently, Sage has taken to wanting to be held all the time.
We can get her to settle down some of the time in her swing or her bouncy seat, but to keep her in her bassinet we have to make sure she is thoroughlyasleep before putting her in. Much like stories I have heard from my own parents, this child will be sound asleep in my arms, but the second I put her down in her bassinet, she screams.
This is simultaneously awesome and awful.
Awful, as many, many parents have said before, because it feels like I can’t actually accomplish anything if I’m holding her. She wiggles enough that it takes two hands if I’m walking around, and if I’m sitting down I’m not getting much done. So if Ann is busy and Sage needs to be held, everything else I’m trying to do gets put on hold.
But way more than that, it’s awesome.
As tired as I can get if I want to sleep when she wants to be held… as frustrated as I can briefly be if I want to, say, go get myself a diet cola when she wants to be held… as much as it interrupts my day when she wants to be held…
This is exactly what I signed up for when I started trying for a family ten years ago.
I know there are going to be things that drive me nuts. She will eventually start making her hands all slobbery and then wanting to touch my face. She will start throwing her food. She will have to potty train. She will learn a bad word. She will struggle in class. She will get a crush on someone I’d like to kick in the teeth. She will tell me that I don’t understand her. She will find ways to hurt me, either intentionally or unintentionally, and the scars will be there forever, even as I continue to love her beyond all rationality and beyond all belief.
I know this.
But right now, when she interrupts me and gets in the way of my moment-to-moment plans?
I get to hold my baby in my arms and tell her that everything will be all right, until she falls asleep, contented to be with me.