All you need is...

Saturday night we attended a surprise birthday party for one of our friends. Actually, it was an anniversary party- the fifth anniversary of her 29th birthday. The conversation turned to that show our parents used to watch in the 80's- Thirty Something. The general consensus was that the people on the show were all old...and boring. Nothing like us, people actually in our thirties. Right? We're hip. We're sexy. So maybe 11 pm is an outrageously late night for us. Maybe we spend more time talking about tax write-offs and hybrid cars than rock groups. We're still completely vibrant and fascinating. Agree with me here.

Just now I was out for a walk, all by myself. My good friend and neighbor drove around the corner and said she nearly didn't recognize me, because I looked so young. I'm in clothes from Old Navy. My hair has some bounce. And, miraculously, there are no spit-up stains on my shirt. So picture it- I'm alone. The sun is shining; the temperature is perfect. I've been guaranteed 30 minutes to myself. And I've just been told I look unrecognizably young. To top it all off, this friend isn't even a thirty-something herself, yet. Not until Sunday. So I'm even fooling the younger crowd. What a great way to begin my first post-partum solo walk.

I started thinking about love. The concept of loving more than one child used to perplex me, even though I always felt loved, and I was a second child. I must be coming through the infant-induced fog, because I was able to put together a couple of cohesive thoughts. To say that I love both my children equally is true, of course. But incomplete. I love them completely differently.

I love Jubilee because she's small and utterly defenseless. She is a perfect, soft being who needs to be protected. She's not quite sure, yet, that she's not part of me. And I guess I'm not quite sure of that yet, either. Sometimes when she cries I put her mouth right next to my ear, because I want to really listen to her. And because she sounds like such a baby, and she's not going to sound like that for much longer. When she coos and smiles at me, nothing else matters. I just want to make her do it again. She is completely fascinating to me, even though, in all honestly, she mostly just flails around and makes crazy grunting sounds. She has this satisfied look on her face when she finishes nursing, like there's nothing in the world she could possibly want. I love her because I have nurtured and sustained every ounce of her eleven pound, beautiful baby self. I love that she relies on me to interpret her world for her. She has complete trust that I will meet all her needs. I want to be the best mommy I can be for her, for the rest of her life.

I love Zephyr because he invents games to play with his friends. I love him because he decided that he wanted his own bed, and for three days he told us that he wanted nothing but pink sheets for it, then today, when we prompted "Tell Mimo what color sheets you want for your bed," he answered "red." I love him because he requests "a sandwich with salad" when he wants lettuce in it. I love that all his toys, even his trains and cars, are starting to have personalities and conversations. Just tonight, I overheard conversation with his teddy bear that went like this:
T: How do you go poop?
Z: I get a marshmallow.
T: You get a marshmallow?
Z: Yes! I get a marshmallow.
T: That's amazing!

I love how he has learned to carefully insert the straw and start drinking a juice box so that it won't spill. I love how he wants to do everything himself- even though it's not always practical or possible. I love how he can eat half a cookie, then say he's had enough. When Zephyr sees someone sad in a book, he assumes they want their mommy. I love the way he says breakfast, "breftist." Tonight I explained that he and Conor could have sleepovers when they both stop nursing; the look he gave me indicated that he found that concept unfathomable.

Today the owner of the mattress store gave Zephyr a lollipop, and Zephyr was so excited over that lollipop that he told everyone about it who would listen. He talked about it all through lunch, then he put it on the bedside table so he would see it as soon as he woke up from his nap. When he finally started eating it, he offered Teddy a lick each time he took one. I found myself getting a little annoyed when he would get careless with his sucker and momentarily rest it against the couch. I was tempted to take it away from him, but, in a finer moment of parenting, paused to remember how much delight the small piece of candy brought him. As I wiped the sticky spots off the couch, I thought about how close I came to squashing his joy.

When Zephyr sees baby animals alone in books, he is always very concerned to know where their mommies are. I want to be the best mommy I can be for him, for the rest of his life.