Thanks to everyone who gave their opinion on the whole lead testing issue yesterday. The only issue with trying to obtain a second opinion is that the same computer thingy would be used, our address would come up as an area where lead testing is recommended, and the answer would be same. I still haven’t decided. In other news, during the last 24 hours Kaia has learned how to remove her diaper and has done it twice. I went in to cover her last night and she had taken it off. I am very serious on the “never wake a sleeping baby” rule so I wasn’t about to wake her up and put another diaper on her. Instead I got up early anticipating having to strip the bed so I could wash the bedding. Surprisingly enough, the bed was dry and so was she! A little while ago I was helping M and M decide what to wear today (and hearing my mother echoing in my ears…”its not a fashion show!”) and Kaia comes trotting down the hall and into their room, diaper in hand! Thankfully she was dry but I’m gonna have to think about the best way to handle this. Ouch it hurts! Just kidding…
I also was thinking during my wide-awake-for-no-reason stage at five this morning about how what hereathome noted really rings true. She said “time is a river..” I tried really hard to picture myself in my thirties, forties, etc, and just couldn’t fathom it. I wondered what I would look like, whether my views on things ranging from politics to child rearing would have changed, how I would have changed in fundamental ways. Its impossible for me to look so far ahead, which in a way is a good thing because I am forced to focus on the present (having never been much of one to look back) and to let the reality that is today seep into my memory machine for perusal at a later date. All I could think of was this gray haired lady sitting up reading (a habit I will probably still have), and she was thinking of the person she was. Here is what she saw:
The sun comes through the windows of the cottage at extraordinary angles in summer. Especially that special kind of sun, the kind after a humid day, the kind where you know darkness, and the cool air it will bring, are not far off. She looks around noting clumps of cat hair in one corner, dust motes dancing in the sunlight, she thinks of the pile of dishes in the sink, and she feels like she can never do enough, never be enough, to make everything all right; to finally relax into herself. She is grateful for a sleeping baby, for the solitude that is hers when she makes herself stay awake long after the house has fallen silent. She fingers her thick, dark hair, thinking of what to do with it on her annual birthday trip to the salon. She thinks about hunting up some paper and a pen and maybe writing something while she has peace and quiet, decides against because she can’t begin to think of where she would find a pad of paper and doesn’t feel up to looking. So she turns her head and her book toward the light, and is lost in the mystery again.
The lady looking back wonders how it happens. How just one day, you know something you didn’t know before. How there seem to be more and more days with that surprise. How it must take time to be wise, a collecting of secrets, experiences and regrets. She picks her book up off the couch and glances to the clock, ten more minutes until curfew. And then she will tuck the woman she still sees as that tiny girl with four teeth into bed, maybe let the dog out, and probably finish her chapter before she turns in, too. She chuckles to herself realizing thats one thing about her that has never changed, she hates to leave a chapter half read.