Proof is in the Crib

Rachel is such a good wife and mother. For all my femme beliefs, I can only sit back and admire her, the traditional stereotypical housewife, but she actually loves what she does and wants to continue mothering and cooking, and hosting, and throwing birthday parties, shuttling baby to his appointments, taking him for walks, teaching him about this great big world.

Right now she is off to spend 45 minutes with Rick. She takes him his lunch every day, and when Lucas is awake she takes him and they visit him at work. Currently, Lucas is asleep, which is where I come in. I'm "watching" the chap. I just spent a few minutes staring at him in his crib, passed out cold, in hopefully a happy dreamland state of being. I know big adults always yak about how cute kids are when they are asleep. "Angelic" I think is the correct term I've heard before. Well, I decided to stare at him and see about that. He had one eye open, so I thought he might be awake so I waved my fingers in front of his eye. No movement. Creepy. But his deep and even breathing assured me he had not gone to a better land (??) but instead lay peacefully oblivious.

Ooooh what I wouldn't give to be in that crib right now. I remember my crib. It was white. Painted. And I had a multi-colored crocheted blankie, all in pastel colors. In one particular memory, I remember the soft touch of my blankie in my hands, lying in my crib staring at the ceiling, and then slowly passing into dreamland myself. It was a Sabbath afternoon. Randomly enough, I remember this, because mom and dad also wanted a "nap" (or ahem, was it? ;) ) so they put me down. Maybe it was to trick me so they could have peace and quiet? No matter their rationale, I remember feeling that blankie in my hands, and gently stroking it because it felt so soft, and then I remember going under, and then waking up with my blankie still wrapped around me. That secure feeling, knowing mom and dad loved each other, and I had my blankie. I didn't want anything more than that.

When I left Lucas' crib I saw Rick and Rachel's wedding bouquet, hanging gracefully in their room. It looked antique, old somehow, but then it was affirming. Do you know how scary relationships are? Do you know how scared of them I am? Or how nervous I am for poor baby Lucas when he gets to be my age? And then sometimes I just have to sit back and remember the good, and remember other good things about other people's relationships. I looked at the wedding bouquet, and remembered Rachel's wedding, and I remembered peeling potatoes for the reception, and the crowd, noise, wedding pictures, me, David, Rick, Rachel, everyone. And then I looked back at Lucas, his chest slowly bobbing up and down in rhythmic silence. Perhaps I still hold to my motto that relationships are hard, but then perhaps, maybe, they are worth it in the end.

Whatever the case, he was angelic. Proof is in the pudding. Proof is in the crib.

~Jen