The welcoming presence of normalcy

I’m still in shock that Willow adjusted so easily to the bassinet. The night adaptation went OK, but surely naps will be a struggle I thought. Nope.

For the first time I can gaze down upon her sleeping. She sleeps with both arms raised over her head, the same way I have for the past few years. While the trip may well mess things up, as well as teething or other things I can’t yet foresee, I’m hopeful that we’ve made it through the rough period. That both kids are now on a schedule, and our lives will now operate on a calmer flow.

Breastfeeding is now easy, natural and enjoyable. I can cradle her in my arms, feeling the heft of her growing, but still tiny body, as she flicks her tongue against my nipple, and think of nothing but appreciation for her presence in my life. It’s hard to believe how very difficult it was and how long the problems endured. Like labor, it’s almost hard to remember what the pain felt like. I just know it was bad, that I wouldn’t wish anyone to have to go through that, and that I’m pretty amazed we made it through.

Speaking of normalcy, I met a friend’s mother at a birthday party this weekend who seemed to have definite opinions on what is normal and what is not. It seemed she didn’t consider me part of that category.

First she commented how her grandfather has the same name as River. Her grandfather is the same ethnicity as the country the name comes from.

“Are you?” she asked. No.

Upon hearing me speak Spanish, she asked if I was Spanish. No. At that point her eyes crossed.

She asked if I’d been in the Peace Corps. Yes. “You seem like the type who would do that,” she said.

Then she asked about my husband.

“Where is he from?”

I told her.

“That’s boring.” Then she asked what he did.

“An engineer? That’s so normal. How did you end up with him?” She paused. “Well, I guess a family can only handle one like that.” Like me, she meant. How does one answer that?