Dear Mama,
these two comics (comfortable 1 and 2) were thought of by my eldest daughter, who seems to think that the window in the cover-up is the funniest thing in the world. Come to think of it, it is pretty funny ;o) so I scurried away and did not just one but two comics about it…the next will post tomorrow!

Love,
Heather

Today is my sweet baby Isobel’s 10th birthday. She’s as tall as my shoulder and able to reason her way through an argument and sometimes even win ;o) I think she may just be the greatest.

I wrote this letter to her when she was still wee, and I thought I would share…

My Dearest Baby,

And then with a final exhaustive push, you slip effortlessly out into this wide, cold world. Finally, after what seems an eternity, the midwife hands you to me and I cradle you close (JOY!) You begin to suckle at my breast. In this one definitive, instructive, jubilant instant, I experience a feeling (that borders on primal), everything just seems right. I peer down into your dark eyes and within them I witness you, unadulterated and pure. Slowly, like a incantation, I begin to make you promises (they flow from me like the breastmilk). I chant softly (so that you won’t startle) promises of protection, love and a bouyant future. I can already see, in this first soul-glimpse, (deep and eternal) that you are my evolution.

(chant)
I promise you the sweet milk of me whenever you want it, for as long as you want it. Daytime or nighttime, (all of the time) until you are old enough to say “all done”. You can’t tell time, so who am I to impose a schedule? latex nipples and powdered substances are not good enough for you, you are growing a body and building a brain. You deserve the best of me, whole and perfect, and have me you will. Baby foods, packaged and processed? They won’t cross your lips. When you are hungry for the taste of solids foods just reach out to my plate and I’ll mash my home-cooked meal for you. I promise you that you’ll eat good foods.

I promise you that a plastic baby carrier won’t be where you rest your head. For you, a sling of my own making tied on one shoulder, holding you close to my heart with access to my breasts. You want to rock and swing? I won’t ever put you in an electric, vibrating jumpy seats or baby swing, I’ll rock you and swing you and dance with you. Tied tight to me sheltered by my body, I’ll take you everywhere, and show you everything and introduce you to everyone. I promise you, you will see the world.

Isobel at her Tiga Bulan Ceremony- where she touches the ground for the first time.

I promise you that the pursuit of bigger and better will not come between us. Your very own room down the hall, with your very own crib? These things are not for you, it’s better for you to be tucked beside me nursing contentedly all through the night. Better for you that in every room we meet and cross paths. Better for our family that we are not flung to separate quarters crying with loneliness. Larger house, more cars, better clothes? I promise you that we’ll keep our lives simple.

I promise you that when you are bored I’ll read you books of strong women and caring men, of silly rhymes and of fairy trees and butterfly hills. I’ll give you toys that are warm and fun and tested by time. Because the television is not good enough for you, and the toys that it sells are ugly and they break. I promise you that you will always have your imagination.

These promises pour out, and so many more as I stare into your eyes. In these first few moments of your life I already know you as my most perfect evolution. And in this short time of our first sychronistic breaths and your tiny yet audible gulps I witness in your eyes (like rising suns) the glimmers of your revolution.

Love, Hathor the Cow Goddess

Read it and weep.
Co-sleeping evolves into future nightmare

sigh. the first of my responses is to NOT call him a poopoo head. yet.

Love,
Heather