Monday mornings are a drag. Since
the husband moved out of the city for work, they've become worse. It's sad when he can’t fly home for the weekend; it's sadder when he does. He leaves early in the morning and the kids wake up
to find him gone. Today, N who seems to be extra sensitive to his departure,
woke up unusually cranky and reluctant. Despite my efforts to cheer her up she seemed
determined to pull us all down. With less than five hours of sleep I was
near snapping point.However, when she said she was too tired to get up I simply picked her up and carried her to the washroom. It had been a long time since I had carried her and the ‘hug’ felt good. Mercifully, even at nine years, she’s yet not too heavy for me, this little one of mine. (H almost knocks me over when he clambers on, which he does often).
She seemed to cheer up a bit and so I offered to give her a bath just like when she was a baby. We spent a happy ten minutes in the washroom falling back into our old old pattern, splashing water on her while she tried to wet me and I pretended to be angry.
By the time I was helping her into her clothes laughing together, she had forgotten her crankiness and so had I. She finished her breakfast ‘even faster than H’. We went down to the bus-stop happier than I could have ever hoped for.
Sometimes children just need to be babies, to be pampered silly, their tiny whims catered to. We often find it difficult to come to terms with the fact that our children are growing up. However, just as often, we take their growing up for granted. Some days it helps to remember that grown up as they seem, they are
babies still.
Disclaimer: A post like this in no way means I'm a sane centred zen mama. Most days I'm the regular harridan. It's just that I blog about the good days because it is heartening to remember that once in a while I can avert the bad ones.
Linking up to Microblog Mondays. We're talking about space travel. Do leave your thoughts there.
