Selves

I wish I didn't always feel like I was rounding a street corner and running smack into myself head-on, painfully. I can only explain what I mean by that by saying that I spent the morning working, the early afternoon at a Toddler Group with Annika and six other babies, the late afternoon sauteeing zucchini and reading about ladybugs with Lily, and the evening talking about books with five brilliant readers and writers, while eating homemade Indian food and feeling, for the first time all day, as though my time was entirely my own. 

And then, on the way home: a conversation with two other working mothers, whose work encompasses reading and writing like mine, about babies, and how challenging it is to raise them, and how time-consuming their care is, and my admission, made always with guilt but a sense of relief, that I prefer children, even my own, when they are old enough to communicate with words, to speak, to reason, to exchange. 

And then, and then, re-entry. My home, my work, again, the desk, the dogs, the words, but first, a silent pushing open of the bedroom door where my new life--five years is new at my age--makes itself so manifest. In the crib, Annika stirs. She opens her eyes, rolls over, cries out. She sees me, stands, wobbling, throws herself into my arms. I pick her up, just to feel her body, her weight against me, and she settles in, puts her tiny hand on my back, head on my shoulder, is instantly asleep. I set her down in her crib, gently, look over at the bed and have to stifle a laugh as Lily turns in her sleep, faces me. She is wearing her Superman costume, complete with cape. Earlier in the evening, she was Super Lily, Scout was Super Dog, Annika was Super Baby, the ultimate sidekick. But to sleep, the cape was all hers. Her ponytails splayed on the pillow. Her blue tights shone in the light from the window. 

I lie, sometimes, when I do my talk about the babies, about how it's not "my thing." And yet, I don't. See what I mean? Two selves, both everything, rounding the corner, all the time. I would prefer them to shake hands, make peace, merge? Time. It is happening more. I think I might be getting closer. Hope.