So, I am feeling a little jealous of Margene and Norma and Jessie, who live where it's cold and are actually getting to see the earth reborn with the tiny shoots and the new buds. They have a spring that's colder than my winter. Of course, when they blog about how bloody cold it is and how they have to wear a whole sheep's worth of wool to get out and about in the dead of winter, and I'm wearing sandals and short sleeves in January, I feel the urge to gloat. Well, they can gloat at ME now, because it's been in the 90s all week. >sigh<
Anyway, I'm about to ship off my first set of blocks to Cynthia for Grace. Since my son was born, my superstitions have kinda gone a little nuts, so I feel like when I see other babies in trouble, maybe I should lend a hand and help out, and maybe the universe will see fit to spare my baby troubles. When you do good deeds, do you still get good karma if you're doing them for selfish reasons? I would never wish that someone else would be sick to spare my son, but isn't it okay to wish that no one, including my son, should be sick?
I find it funny to see what kind of mommy I've become. I know many first-time moms who freak about the sniffles, or that the sheets don't match the dust ruffle just right, or that OMG someone gave the baby some baby food before he was six months old. I thought I would be like that, but really, I figured out that none of that matters (to me). I am much more laid back than I thought I would be, and I can really enjoy him sitting with me, and enjoy his joy at being able to sit, without worrying that maybe he's behind the rest of his peers, because they sat up at 5.5 months, and my son was 6 months. The thing that does get me is the inability to protect him from unseen things, the worry that I'm not adequate for the terrible things that are out there. I have a recurring dream in which he's fallen into murky water, and I know I have time to save him, but I can't find him. In my dream I can feel his utter disappointment that I let him down, that mommy couldn't save him this time. Even now, just writing about it, the terror that grips me is pervasive, and my whole body is tense. I would gladly give my life for my boy, and live in utter fear that there is something out there that might happen to him, where my life still wouldn't be enough. This is when I start making deals with the universe.
Damn, I think I need to knit more and stop writing all this heavy stuff. Sorry.