I've resolve to do the following:
- I will stop reading about everyone else's "perfect" kids on the internet and how they got there. I don't need to get anywhere. I am here.
- I will stop asking for advice since everyone has some and they usually feel very strongly about it. I don't need advice. Every kid and family is different.
- I will trust my instincts... I will take the time to listen to them.
I can now let go of the fact that my babies aren't sleeping exactly like babycenter.com says they should be and just focus on them. I can be comfortable in the uncomfort, in the unpredictable-ness of their ever changing patterns and I can be hopeful in the trends that we are starting to see. But mostly, and I say this because this is hard for me, the analytical, process following, predictable natured mathematician... mostly I can just let go and really really just enjoy these babies and their ever changing natures.
They are absolutely fascinating. Truly. Every day I see them again after work, or when I wake in the morning on my days off, I am in utter awe of their inquisitiveness, of their seeming growth over the night, of their sweet sweet souls. And I am in love... deep deep love.
Here's an example of the moments with them that I want to absorb, relish, dive into and just experience:
My little M&M and I have developed a dance we do with our hands when she nurses, especially at at night. She is a very delicate nurser, light in my arms and quiet at my breast. Her hands explore and reach out for mine. She's only 4.5 months old and yet she seems to want to grab and move and caress my own hands, exploring the space between my fingers and pulling and pushing my fingers in various directions as she nourishes herself. Eventually, deep in the night, her little fingers slow down and she rests my finger on her chest, her sucking slows and I gently persuade her back to her bed. But as I do this, I think to myself, burn these memories into your brain, Tippy, because this too shall pass...
It's a very tender time in my mind, since during the day, she's so alert and attentive to the environment and goings on around her that her attention darts from place to place. Once in a while she will sit on my lap and look at me, smile and coo and coo and coo, telling me about her day. These moments shoot me forward a few years into when she will be talking. I envision myself coming home from work and she greeting me, babbling excitedly about her day, wanting to tell me every little detail of the new things she saw and learned. But for now, I hold on dear to those little sweet hands when they reach out for mine and hope at some level, she always wants to hold my hand.
(a post on the bean burrito yet to come...)