The Girl Who Learned To Kneel

Dear Elsie,

Sitting in the living room, you’re eating the Australian coasters, and I’m examining your figure. I’m looking for (i) teeth, and (ii) possible signs of damage. We vaccinated you on Friday, Pookey Babu. (What do you think of your new nickname? Yes? No? Direct all complaints and emotional trauma to Daddy, please!). And all the possible symptoms you might display, you have. The fever, the diarrhea, the poor appetite, the alien-like aggression. Don’t we feel like good parents.

By the by, peer pressure sucks. Especially when it comes to parenting.

Where are your teeth, by the way? I’m not worried, just curious that the months and months of drool have not yet given way to a single tooth. Oh well, you’re busy being all independent—an independence which emerged about a month ago. Unfortunately, I have been neglectful in my record keeping. Sometimes I have the option to write about you or pay attention to you. I’m not sure you would understand my good-intentioned desertion. All for you…

Welcome to conflicted motherhood.

Anyway about that independence. You now sit on your own. It’s particularly fun when I arrange an assortment of toys—all of which go directly in your mouth—around you while you sit. It makes you feel powerful! You are the sultan with your harem of toys. I can tell you feel powerful because I am omnipotent.

Okay, I’m not. But you think I am. I am your sultan.

You now also eat banana chunks out of this nifty net device—independently. Go Elsie! Your aunties think it’s the most disgusting thing in the world, you gnawing on a mushy banana sock. I think it’s cute. (I got your back, Pookey!)

You have stopped the bubble blowing. Now you suck your lower lip in between vocalizations of ‘Mamamamama!’ Yes, it’s true. You say ‘Mamamama’ when you are feeling anxious and needing reassurance. I am glad to come to your rescue, Mamamamama that I am. How did you dig such a well in my heart, Elsie Pants with your golden hair? Oh, that was sentimental. But then you lead me to sentiment. Ugh. Or maybe it’s a good thing. My sister tells me I am getting more touchy feely with you in this world. Let me go find you, Elsie. I left you somewhere…

Mama needs a hug.

Love love, Mama