I’m loving all this so much. The contact, the knowing, the tiny moments that we have together.
It’s lovely in amongst all the busyness of packing and moving house to have stillness and cuddles and moments of wet hair straight from the bath resting on my cheek. She speaks out to the garden when we sit like this. I have no idea what she is saying but she’s telling it something awfully important.
When the weather is sunny it is always shining in to the bathroom at this time of the day. This means that I get to take my daughter through very simple but precious moments of allowing the sun to help dry her off after she has come out of the bath.
She’s happy to sit there for ages and ages. And on the weekend when Robert is there to take care of Ned I’m happy to let her. Anaïs appears to thrive on affection. She loves her morning back rubs and her head strokes last thing at night. She gets excited as I wrap her up in her blanket when she’s in bed and can regularly be found waving to us from across the other side of the room.
I worry for her because she is a girl and girls can have a hard time. I know this because I too am a girl.
And at the tender age of ten months she has no idea that when I watch her sleep I am trying desperately to figure out how I can help her navigate life without too much damage. I’m only ten months in to this journey myself so I don’t expect to have it all figured out already. In fact I know deep down that I’ll never have it all figured out.
But God loves a trier, no?
Tina Fey summed it up for me when I saw this posted on Jennifer Ehle’s twitter feed this weekend. I love both of those women. Both have daughters, both have careers and both are human.
Over to you Tina, I can’t improve on this, the grape line got me big time!!!
May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.
May she be beautiful but not damaged, for it’s the damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the beauty.
When the Crystal Meth is offered, may she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half and stick with Beer.
Guide her, protect her when crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.
Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes and not have to wear high heels.
What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design?
I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.
May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her own heart with the sinewy strength of her own arms, so she need not lie with drummers.
Grant her a rough patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day –
And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.
O Lord, break the Internet forever, that she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers and the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.
And when she one day turns on me and calls me a ‘Bitch’ in front of Hollister, give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, for I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.
And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.
“My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a mental note to call me.
And she will forget.
But I’ll know, because I peeped it with your God eyes.
Taken from Tina Fey’s book Bossypants.
Tell me today, as I need to hear it, what would your prayer be? Make them funny, make them earnest, make them stupid, make them serious. Whether you have children or grandchildren, are pregnant or still waiting. I trust that we can put our requests in and they will be heard by whatever it is we believe in. We’re all in this together and I need to know that I am not alone.
I love you
Join my Facebook page!
Feel free to add me to your links list. Here it is ! - http://www.cherrymenlove.com/
No related posts.