Days don't go by without me marveling at the beauty that is my daughter. From her cute little coos to the syllables she know enunciates confidently (in her own baby language), there isn't a moment when I don't feel like I'm the most blessed woman in the world for having her.
I was supposed to paint all day...instead I made a few necessary calls all day. I'm still trying to find some daycare, but also, I'm panicking over the prospect of having to support us fully, but my mantra: I can do this I can do this I can do this.
I still feel the anxiety of it all. Meanwhile the whole day I've been fully focused on Lilo. From singing ditties about the benefits of using the potty to trying to prevent her from pooping on the carpet, I did not for one second stop feeling guilty about the amount of time I was spending catering to her needs. Part of me totally subscribes to the idea that I can't be her mom when I have to be her dad...I can't mother, educate and nurture her as fully as I want to because I have to be the breadwinner. And it kills me just to think like that.
And that has to do with my traditional African upbringing.
My mother was not...not maternal, but yet she spent most of my life distant from me. I don't remember hugging her for the first time...till I was thirteen. She was either in school or traveling.
My mom is a perpetual student. She loooves her learning.
My parents had very very high academic expectations from us. My older brother buckled under it. I married into a racist white family and found myself single very quickly.
My two little brothers are the ones now carrying the torch of my parents' expectations.
At least I gave 'em a cute grankid.
All throughout the day, as I picked up Lilo whenever she wanted a cuddle I could hear my mother's voice in the back of my head, telling me that I'm spoiling her. But my gut always wrenches when her top lip trembles and her eyebrows go way up and she looks at me with sad eyes. Just as I feel when I hear her cries in another room, or just about whenever another baby that sounds like her cries...hell any baby at all.
Except I'm one of those moms who don't feel any sort of affection for other babies. None of them seeem to compare.
I have a lot of anxiety about re-entering the work place. Embracing the vortex that is 9-5 work. I would prefer to work for small businesses, or any spiritual-based workplaces, but who knows? The rent for this apartment is STEEP. Rent in Calgary generally sucks. I have the option of signing up for subsidized housing but I don't want to end up in a less peaceful neighborhood. I'm left alone here. I like it.
Doesn't mean that I don't imagine a Happily Ever After for Lilo and I. A house somewhere with 1 cow and two goats and three-four chickens, a large garden, a fish pond, lots of cats, a claw-foot tub, a Dutch cargo bike and Internet. I know that I don't want my daughter to end up like all the spoiled entitled brats on this continent, but I don't approve of the at-arms-length parenting my brothers and I got from our parents. Granted, I benefited from the hard work my parents put into giving us a better life, but I remember missing the times my dad used to take me to the park. Step-dad or not, I know by that that he truly cared for my brother and I.
My older brother has another dad. I have a couple. My two little brothers are his. Funny family dynamic. I used to be obsessed with the idea of having my own mom and dad though, because I knew even though my father had accepted my brother and I as his own, his family didn't. That's why it was so hard for me to let Mitch go, as stupid as that sounds. I just wanted my normal, quirky-abnormal family. I know that's just a silly ideal now...
I know the term 'bliss' is overused by the faux-spiritual, but bliss is the only thing akin to what I feel when my daughter runs up to me, gives me a big smile, and kisses me. It's as if the rest of the world doesn't exist when we're running around in the apartment. Maybe I'm just afraid of leaving our little cocoon because there's just too much ugly outside sometimes. And I'm just scared that I'm just a little girl in the big world to and nothing I could do could make a difference. But for her I'll try anything.
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