To use one of your Grandpa Mark's favorite phrases, Thiz, this weekend has been filled with highs and lows.
Saturday began on a low note. You woke, fussy and rather inconsolable. I suspected an ear infection. We drove, the two of us, to the clinic and spent two hours pacing the waiting room, waiting for our five minutes with the doctor. As long as I was holding you, as long as we were moving or looking out the window, you were relatively content--but if I tried to sit down, to let you play on my lap or on the floor, you were full of reproach. Two hours later we left, with a diagnosis of an infection in each of your ears and a prescription for amoxicillan.
After you took a nap and we fed you your first dose of that Pepto-Bismol pink medicine, we all proceeded, through traffic and some random errands, to the Model Toy Train Museum. This was Daddy's chosen birthday activity and we figured that staring at the choo-choos might distract you from the pressure pulsing against both your eardrums. We were right, more or less. Daddy carried you in the Baby Bjorn and explained to me the difference between various gauges of train track and the hypocrisy that exists within the Model Toy Train community. Those who collect trains "built to scale" apparently fancy themselves a little better, a little more refined, than those who collect Lionel trains. To the naked (aka my) eye, the Lionel trains do not appear to be much different in size than the scale trains. I made sure, however, not to make this observation known within the confines of the train museum. I feared I might be tarred and feathered.
To be honest, Thiz, I had been dreading a little bit the excursion to the train museum. And it was actually OK. Much more peaceful and frenzied than many kid friendly places. Perhaps because the energy of the kiddos (mostly little boys) is tempered by the presence of the 60-years-plus men. It was kind of lovely to see these older men crawling on their hands and knees below the train display so that they could pop up in various locations, surrounded by track and miniature trees and houses and cars.
In a different building, where the Lionel trains were housed, there was a display that permitted the viewer to push buttons, thereby setting into motion the arm of the train crossing guard or turning a light on in a tiny model home. One button made a tiny harmonica play in a "hobo camp" display; another opened the door to an outhouse, permitting a glimpse of a man crouched on the toilet, reading a newspaper.
We ate Culver's for dinner and then watched Betty White host Saturday Night Live.
Today is Mother's Day. When I walked downstairs this morning, there was a vase of flowers and a card waiting for me on the dining room table (nice job, Daddy!). I spent the morning drinking coffee and grading papers at Blue Monday. Then you and Daddy and I walked to the Ole Store for brunch. After brunch we took Luxy on a walk through the natural lands behind St. Olaf. You rode, facing me, in the Ergo carrier. I like to be able to look at you this way, like to be able to easily kiss your forehead and whisper sweet words in your ears. It's chilly today, maybe 55 degrees, but sunny too, and everything green and still new.
This funny thing happened at brunch. You started to laugh. To giggle. On the walk you kept craning your neck to see Daddy so you could flash him a smile. We didn't even realize these things had been missing from you the last three days. I mean, to a certain extent we did--you were fussy--but also so focused on crawling--so determined! Seeing the joy come back into you today was the best Mother's Day gift. I would love you without this, of course, if you were a more serious or somber child I would love you all the same. I have loved you deeply these past few days even though your joy (or as Daddy says, your "mojo") has been absent. But what a gift to see it return to you, what a gift to walk through trees with new leaves, hand in hand with a husband whom I love, a panting dog whom I love, and my baby girl, smiling up at me, all troubles, for a moment, at bay.
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