Two Foot, Two Inch Terror!

Carrie started pulling up this afternoon. She crawled over to my parents’ coffee table, put her hands on the top, and ended up on her feet. She was quite pleased with this new perspective. Now, in addition to all the other general baby-proofing we need to finish, we’re going to have to start securing things to walls.

Is it just me, or does she seem to figure out several new things all at once? And isn’t it much too early for her to be doing all of this? I thought for sure I’d have at least another month or two before I had to start chasing her all over the house.

In other baby news, we started giving Carrie a second meal of solids today. So far, she’s tried – and liked – rice cereal, pears, sweet potatoes, apples and bananas. We’re going to start some less sweet things, like carrots and peas, in the next couple of weeks, so I wanted her to have one meal with something familiar and one with something new.

Being A Mom

Being a mom is everything I didn’t expect. I expected to love my daughter. I didn’t expect how much I would love her. I didn’t expect how much I would worry. I didn’t expect how much it would make me cry for other mothers and babies in trouble, for the sorry state of the world we live in, for all the things I have no power to change that will somehow affect Carolyn’s life. I didn’t expect how it would change the way I look at my mom, and how guilty I would feel about things I said or did as a child that might have hurt her.

It’s strange: sometimes I think I’m only aware of Carolyn as the baby who lives in our house. I spend almost every minute of every day with her, and I’m constantly aware of her presence. But then there are times when I look at her – at this beautiful, funny, vibrant child – and realize that she is my daughter. My soul weeps with joy at that recognition. I am in awe of this perfect life we have created, with her soft cheeks, sparkling eyes and busy, chubby little hands.

And then I panic a little. I am in charge of making sure that Carolyn survives to adulthood, and that she won’t need to spend a fortune on therapy once she gets there. That’s no small responsibility.

I find myself wanting to somehow make the world a better place for her. I make an extra effort to recycle things I might not have before. I think more about my political decisions, and look at how the candidates might affect the future. I want to get in shape, eat better, volunteer more – in short, become a good role model for my daughter.

In some ways being a mom is the most natural thing I have ever done. In most ways it’s not, and I’m figuring things out just one step ahead (or sometimes not) of Carrie. I’m realizing how strong I can be when I need to be. I’m more aware than ever of the importance of not taking things for granted, and of all the dangers that lurk around every corner. I’m learning how to live in the moment, and how to put my faith in God when I feel the worries closing in around me.

I’m learning how to love my daughter. I’m learning how to be a mom. And it’s wonderful.