Learning to Walk

I didn't get to kiss the husband goodbye this morning, and I won't get to kiss him goodnight tonight. He is on call in the hospital, tending to sick children. And, though I'm not in the hospital, I'm also tending to my sick child. I've been curled up next to Atrain since the wee hours of the morning, whose feverish forehead I've been kissing all day long. That poor boy. It hurts to watch his little body battle off this infection. At least it's not vertigo.

Jdog had an awesome day indoors--crawling and climbing to his content. Yes, I just wrote climbing. He barrels over toys and pillow piles like they're nothing. And today he started pulling up onto the couch. The little rugrat was so proud of himself. Every time he pulled to stand he would pause, look at me, then giggle as he grabbed a handful of Atrain's hair. Usually Atrain is a pretty good sport about Jdog's lovingly abusive behavior (he has a knack for clawing into and and clamping onto skin, hair, what have you). But today Atrain just said, "I don't want you doing that baby J." And, I don't blame him.

So, as Atrain lay sick on the couch, Jdog and I attended to his every need. But in between temperature taking we piddled around, read books, and resurrected old toys. Atrain and I used to comb the shelves of the DI for great learning toys. We still do, but not nearly as much as we used to. I ran out of storage space. I love toys. Our bag of puppets brought back so many memories: guaranteed fun for everyone. I was thrilled when Jdog started signing "duck." So adorable.

Sometimes it's hard to know how much my kids acknowledge my existence--or if I'm just like any other implicit part of their day: like the color of the sky or the ground beneath their feet. It's hard not to feel like just an extra appendage my children have hooked to them to carry them, clothe them, feed them, etc. But then they begin to do something you do: to say what you say, or smile with the same crinkle in their brow. And, like magic, you remember how much they are looking to you, learning from you, turning to you for every need. It feels good to be theirs: to be their dirt, their grass, their concrete, and to feel their little feet learning to walk on mine.