Perfect Crumbs

Brennyn is now cruising up and down the stairs with no guidance or company. She disappears a lot. Yesterday she left, then came back making her grand entrance into the living room with her bankie and susu. Now, she knows perfectly well that the bankie and susu are not allowed downstairs so she walks in with that gleam of mischievousness in her eyes and behind the susu. Since it was unexpected, and well, funny, we laugh and do not take it away.

I know, right. One slight pause and we’re doomed.

So of course, this morning she tries again. I immediately take them away. She screams as though a finger has been chopped off. Then Riley knocks her over, changing screams to giggles. Because being knocked on your ass by your dog is hilarious while being guided gently by your mother is tragic. Whatever.

After lunch, she tries again. I give her a very rational explanation as to why she can not have a bankie and susu downstairs. She looks at me sadly, turns around and heads back upstairs. I’m cleaning up from lunch so let her go. A few minutes later Bal comes in for lunch and since I’m finishing up in the kitchen, he goes upstairs to say hi to B. We take bets on her being on the computer because she is obsessed with finding movies and pictures to watch (scary how often she finds them too!) Bal comes back downstairs shortly after, having taken this picture:

Poor love has fallen asleep just outside of her crib! She wasn’t trying to be problematic coming down with her bankie and susu, she was merely explaining to me her desperation for a nap. Sweet, sweet love, how I adore that you had to put on your boots before heading up the stairs and adorn a couple of necklaces for your snooze. Sweet, scrumptious, love.

*

Last week Brennyn was sick. One day she had a five-hour nap, another a four-hour one. That would be fabulous if I weren’t so damned worried the entire time!

Every hour, then after 3 hours, every half hour, I’d sneak in, feel her head, feel her breath and sneak back out. Sometimes I’d stop, rub the hair out of her face, lay my hand on her back as it rhythmically rises and falls, soaking in this very rare quiet Bee time. Standing above her, I breathe in with her- all that vanilla doll, sour milk, sweaty neck, freshly laundered, still baby smell of my baby asleep. It is a moment of beauty, this absorbing of her details. Falling just short of perfect with the fevers and uncharacteristic deep sleeps causing mamma-worry.

A couple of days later when she is better but still not quite herself, she falls asleep without her dark shade drawn. This too is not like her.

But since she’s been better, and I am less worried, I take another moment to soak her in while the sun does too. Then I grab my camera. Because it would be a true crime to not document these moments of our babes at rest.

And can I just tell you, in all that time that I stare in wonder at those lips (oh my god, those lips!), and that darling nose (cute lil pudgy nose!) and the lashes (sigh), and marvel at her body’s breaths, I do not once notice the unwashed lunch mixed with soother imprint circling her entire face. Not once. Until I see this picture.

Which is such a brilliant reminder that we see what we want to see. On this day, I see my perfect girl. On a more impatient day, I may only have seen the crumbs.

 

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