Messy hair, etc.

Here's something that happened recently: June was crying in the middle of the night. I can't articulate how I know whether I need to go in there or not; it's something I make a judgment call about on every occasion. Often she just settles herself back to sleep by the time I'd be there with my hand on the knob . But this night she sounded like she might really need me, so out of bed I dragged myself.

(A sidenote: ever since I cut my hair, it's a perennial surprise to see what configuration it will take when I get out of bed. Often, it ends up looking like there was a strong breeze all night across the top of head, from one side to the other, with a simultaneous updraft on the other side, so a peak forms just about above my ear. Sometimes it just comes out totally 80's. This never seems to register with June. Sometimes Lloyd gets a little chuckle out of it, but never more than that, for which I'm thankful. I'm not someone who just jumps out of bed in such a mood for everyone to have a hearty belly laugh at my expense.)

On this night I did a quick scan of the situation: no fever, no injury, no stuffed animal entanglement, etc. June stood there at the end of the crib that faces the door and held her arms out to me. "June" I said, "it's night-night time, time to go back to sleep", and she whimpered a little more and stretched out her arms. "Honey, I'm here, everything is okay, lie back down and go back to sleep. It's time to sleep", I said. And so she sat herself back down, gathered her 20 or so stuffed animals she sleeps with, and laid back down. And went to sleep right then and there while I rubbed her little back.

I'm still amazed by the power of that situation when I think about it. On the one hand, I'm so proud of her when she's able to settle herself back down to sleep like that. On the other hand, I can't quite figure out how I ended up on this side of that interaction. It doesn't seem like very long ago I still needed my mom for that reassurance and affirmation, that everything is okay and go ahead and do whatever it is I need to do. In fact, I'm kidding myself if I don't think I still do that all the time. And always it seemed like my mom had that kind of clout in the universe.

So, in this way I think I stumbled on one or even two truths of parenting: that you understand your parents in a way you never could have before once you have your own child, and that being the ones called mom and dad does not mean that you suddenly become the impeccably responsible person who has everything under control and really knows that everything will be okay (or even someone who necessarily always has clean clothes to put on). My mom was younger than me when she had her first child (which was me), and kind of wild still (which she still is). Could she have been any less surprised by the power of her presence and reassurance then than I am now? I know her, and I don't think so.

During my arachnophobic phase at about age 3, she or my dad would beat the walls and ceiling with a dishtowel when I would call out in fright that there were spiders in my room. We all have a laugh now, but I have a totally different perspective on that story today than I did pre-Junie. The only thing that makes me feel qualified to be the one that can confidently say everything is okay so go back to sleep (or that I just vanquished the army of spiders so go back to sleep) is that June needs me to be that person, even when I'm angry, or frustrated, or scared, or all three. Even in the middle of the night when my hair is ridiculous and I'm stumbling with exhaustion and my only desire is just to go back to bed. And also love. Clown cars and skyscrapers and oceans full of love. So much love that sometimes looking down at her in the dark all curled up with her 20 stuffed dogs, it can feel like all the cells of my body are swollen so full that they might all spontaneously rupture at once and spill their contents out of my body, down into the crib, and surround that little sleeping body in a warm squishy envelope of love.