You and I went for some Mommy-Daughter time while your brother was at his acting class. You lay tucked up in my lap at the coffee shop drinking a bottle of boob juice. I had a cup of decaf. We sat at the counter because the space in the little shop was precious.
Another mommy and her daughter sat next to us while they waited for a table to clear. The daughter said you were the cutest baby, which, of course, you are. The Momma said that you had a calming effect on her. I told her your initials spelled Zen. She said it fit.
I agreed with her at that moment. When you are at peace you fill the room with goodness and light. Everyone wants to snuggle with you. Everyone wants to stroke your downy hair.
And it doesn't take much to keep you content, just a bottle and my arms. Unfortunately there are times when you can't have those. These are the times the world comes unhinged. You're unhappy and no amount of reasoning will do.
At these times everyone is driven to distraction. Your Poppy will wake up out of a sound sleep to see why you're crying, even though he knows I'm taking care of it. Your brother will drop whatever he's doing and run through the house to see what happened to you. All because they can't stand for you to cry.
Which is as it should be.
Your father and I do worry, though. Which is also as it should be. We worry about how the least little bump makes you scream in the most un-zen-like way. We worry about how long you cry afterward. We worry about how long you avoid something if it gives you grief.
My wish for you is that you find your zen. That you keep exploring and reaching out to the world even after it kicks you in the teeth. That you take your sads and your happys together, because you can't have one without the other.
I hope that you live life to the fullest.
I love you,
Mom
