Zora Travels

Round and Round: Day 6

It is Day Six.  The sixth day of Nora feeling sick and tired.  Yesterday, the doctor confirmed my suspicion.  Her cold had manifested during the week into double ear infections.  She has now sipped three doses of electric pink bubblegum-flavored antibiotics...to no avail.  The moaning, clinginess, exhaustion, and nursing continue.  She still refuses all other food, any other comfort.

***Remind me with the next baby to PLEASE teach the little one to take comfort at night with Daddy, too. Being the sole provider of night-owl pats, hugs, and rocking...night after night...for hours and hours...while the other parents snoozes...leads to a tinge of resentment during the day.  Granted, I am JUST as responsible for creating this inbalance...but it's not the best set-up.

 

Even my mom's butternut squash soup, corn bread from scratch smeared with butter, and warm apple-oatmeal crisp couldn't entice Noodle to eat.  It's only All-Boob-All-the-Time. 

But maybe I'm losing weight!  Hey, now that's a positive.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So, what does a family do on a marvelous three day weekend with a sick baby (after we've canceled all our fun plans)?  We pull out the sofa bed, pile up the pillows, and play a game of "Round and Round" with the little snot-faced cutie.

You have to REALLY love Budda-Bee-Bee to watch this video.  But I think it's great.  She also said TWO more German words today..."Tschuess" and "Nase."  You can hear her little "Bye" and "Tschuess" (German for "bye"), if you listen closely.  Note her clasping her hands casually behind her back as she wanders around the corner.  Love that.  Again, this video will bore 99.99999% of you.

(Keep in mind this is also my 6th day in the house, I've finished a novel, burned my eyes on facebook, Words with Friends, the newspaper, and knitted half a hat for Lulu Bell.  Videotaping the mundane is a wecome relief.)

Her Own Drum

Perhaps more than most qualities I would wish for Nora to posses, it is that of her finding her own voice. Making her own colorful imprint upon the world, her own footprint upon the beach of humanity.  Not to spend nearly as much time with concerns of what others think of her, nor fretting about fitting into a box that her dad and I inadvertently created.  

 

 

 

 

I want her to choose her own path, decide upon her own belief systems, embrace her passions and creativity and intellect...and hopefully receive a paycheck for swirling all of these together somehow.

I hope that she visits us when she's older out of desire...not obligation.  That she replicates some of our family traditions out of joy...not guilt. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*This morning she enjoyed her first self-spooned oatmeal with raisins.  She's practicing for her visits with her Aunt Kathy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I talk a good game of college, college, college...but really she may choose a very different route.  

Her soul may be fed from a different religion or no religion at all.

Her heart may be held dearest by a woman, a man, children or maybe just cats.

She might eat tons of red meat and adore leather jackets while wearing animal-tested make-up.

Okay, now I have my limits.  If she drives a Hummer, I will have to put my foot down. 

I hope I can embrace her despite how she differs from this image I try not to create of her as an adult.

In no particular order, may she be: independent, kind, strong, unique, empathetic, creative, intellectual, loyal, fun-loving, nature-loving, grateful.

 

Hmmm, quite the checklist for myself. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I hope to see that she is living and expressing and loving in her own grace.  Of course my brows might knit and my lips might purse at some of her choices...but if she's dancing to the beat of her own drummer, I hope I can be proud of her journey.

Now, I say all this a few days after she uttered "doctor."  As clear as day.  Daniel and I were dressing her for her 1 year check-up and telling her about the doctor.  She looked up and said it. And kept saying it.  We were elated.  We told her, "Yes, yes, you can be a doctor."

And then yesterday, as she sat upon my mother's lap, looking at the final page of her Chicky, Chicky book, she said it again...

but wait...she was looking at a tractor.  

Well, I suppose she could be a tractor, too, when she grows up.  

Drum on, baby girl.  Drum on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Enjoying snaps with her Grandma.  

 

 

 

 

Drumming to her beloved "Chain Gang" morning spectacular.