Elmo’s okay in my book.

February 3rd, 2010

Elmo wasn’t around when we were kids.  He’s got an annoying high pitched voice and he’s pretty plain looking, in Muppet standards.  He’s cutesy and very childish.  He’s not a real Muppet.

My five and a half week old laughed out loud and smiled and swung her arms and legs in joy to Elmo today on Sesame Street.  It made me so happy I wanted to do a cartwheel.  Elmo’s okay in my book.

* * * * * * * * *

I wondered, holding Sophie for the first time in the hospital, if I would ever lose that feeling, that ultimate high of happiness.  Sure I don’t feel that ultimate high of happiness when she screams for a bottle, at that point I just wish I was an octopus.  But it isn’t that I’m annoyed or sad at those times, it’s more like she allowed me to feel that ultimate high of happiness and this is how I’m repaying her- waiting for her food?  I’m letting her down because I let her feel sadness.  So if that isn’t over-compensating rearing it’s ugly head…

I can see our episode of “Supernanny” play out.

So how do I accept the fact that I cannot meet her every need all of the time and still feel like I’m doing the best by her?

It’ll come with time, like everything.  I think if I try my best she will feel that and later on know that I have tried my best.

Last night she smiled and beamed in her whale tub when Daddy and I bathed her for the first time.  I could see the happiness in her face and when we wrapped her up in her towel she looked up at me and I saw what I did in the hospital that day: a very content baby for being in my arms.  My arms.  I don’t think I need that ultimate high of happiness, I just need that simple feeling of doing right by her.  We are creating this happiness day by day and I know that she can feel our love already.  The books, the experts, “they” can tell you what to do and how to do it but they can’t tell you how to love.  When she cries for her food and I’m not fast enough to stop her tears I know that when I do get to her she will feel my love ultimately and that will someday turn into her understanding that I tried my best.

I really can’t do cartwheels.