One of those days

My daughter has always been an easy-going, calm, adaptable baby (well, at least after that first six weeks of gas pain). She fills my days with so much joy. Just the other night I told Britt that sometimes I feel so much love for her that I think I'll just explode! (I picture tiny little glittery hearts bursting forth and showering down like confetti.) She is in such a neat stage right now, exploring things, actively learning all the time, and becoming aware of her emotions and voluntary expression thereof. She does such funny things sometimes, like purposely pouring her water into the cup holder on her high chair tray so that she can splash it! Or suddenly putting her hands over her eyes (palms out) to signal that she doesn't want any more food. Or wiggling back and forth after she takes her milk so she can hear it slosh around in her tummy. I wonder what she's thinking when that happens. If she understands that the sound she hears is coming from within her own body. If she can feel it sloshing and knows that is what is sounding. Her "research" fascinates me.

But then there are those days. Those days when, no matter how wonderful my baby regularly is, I just can't figure out what is wrong. Days when the usual schedule is unacceptable for some unknown reason. She's sleepy but she can't or won't sleep, and I don't know which. Should I let her cry it out and fall asleep because I know it's her usual nap time and she's probably just trying to convince me to pick her up (because she's beginning to understand how to play on our emotions), or is she really needy today and I should absolutely go to her so she will trust that I will help her in her time of need? Days when I wonder if her crying and grabbing my face and pulling it to her own face is some primitive language for "I NEED TYLENOL, MAMA...STAT!" Days when I have kept her right there with me most of the day instead of leaving her playing with her toys while I do the usual chores. Days when I have helped her poop, sucked her boogers, given her Tylenol, rubbed her aching gums with Orajel, given her an extra breast-feeding just in case she's hungry and snuggled just a little extra before nap time, and still she cries The Indiscernable Cry. The cry that makes me say ridiculous things to the poor darling like "What's the matter today? Tell Mama what's wrong." The cry that I haven't walked away from since she was just weeks old and I didn't know what else to do but pass her off to her daddy and cry myself.

So I finally decide I have done all I can do. She will cry even if I hold her. So I leave her in her bed and hope she will fall asleep soon. I busy myself, and soon enough all I hear is rain and the gentle hum of my computer and the creaking of the upstairs neighbors' stairs. And I bask in the peacefulness while it lasts, knowing that post-nap period before bed time could go either way. She might wake up refreshed and be a her usual happy self the rest of the evening. Or she might be so fussy that it makes me question my ability to survive the Terrible Twos in a couple of years. If I can't stand one fussy day now, then how will I ever make it to November 2006 without going loony bins?

Well, today was one of those days when she resumes The Indiscernable Cry as soon as she awakens from her nap, (as though she had consciously pressed pause on her cry feature in order to fall asleep and then pressed it again when she woke up) and once again her complaints are met with one failed attempt after another to correct the unknown problem. It was one of those days when I watch the clock, pleading with it to hurry to the part of the day when Britt comes back to rescue me from my single parenthood. One of those days when I feel like waiting at the door for him, immediately snatching the car keys, and fleeing the premises as soon as he's back. And all I know to say is "I love you, sweet baby" over and over.

And then by some miracle, she laughs. And laughs and laughs and laughs. And I feel relief from my anxiety, if only for a little while. And FINALLY Britt returns from the great beyond! (Only now it's too late to flee, so I fume a little bit.) And she laughs some more, easing my pain. And during her Daddy-orchestrated bath time, I take a vacation in some other part of the house to remind myself that most days are not one of those days, and the benefits of this job far outweigh its frustrations.