Tuesday, August 26, 2008

4 am musings

It was a weird night last night. Good weird, though. Good.

Scully and I packed a light dinner and we took Khubz to the park. She had some watermelon, a few pieces of cucumber and one pitiful bite of her sandwich. This was all while making romantic eyes at the playground equipment. We finally released her: Go!

So we all had fun, there was a brief tearful goodbye when leaving the park and when we got home the girl was exhausted and famished. She stuffed whatever food she could into her mouth and we tromped up to bed.

Scully and I finished cleaning up downstairs and did some party planning (the girlchild is turning 2 soon, you know.) I sat down for an evening snack of cheerios and out of the blue I began to vomit violently. I am not kidding. Luckily, it was not all over the living room. Unfortunately, it was in the kitchen trash can.

It was one of those heave, pause, heave, pause kinds of events. While gasping for breath I pleaded with Scully to please leave the room. "I'll just turn on the tv." "Scully! Get out!" heave, heave, heave.

I emerge, shaking, and turn to Scully who is still sitting in the recliner (!!!??!!!) "That was totally fucking boorish of you." I snarp on my way to the bathroom to brush the stomach bile off my teeth. "Where was I supposed to go?" she asked when I returned to human form and sat back down on the couch. True enough. So? I'm trying to retain a little dignity while puking my brains out here.

I laid down on the couch. My beloved redeemed herself and brought me some pillows and a blanket from upstairs. She put on an episode of Foyle's War that she'd gotten from the library. I promptly passed out.

At 3 a.m. I sit bolt upright. I hear Khubz coughing and gagging upstairs. She's got some molars coming in and, though she is fine during the day, at night she is overcome by mucus. She coughs, chokes and gags. So I'm downstairs listening to this and thinking, "what is Scully doing up there?" I didn't hear her getting up to go get Khubz. This made me crazy and I dashed upstairs myself.

I got to our room and there was Scully with Khubz curled up against her. She was snuggled into the crook of Scully's arm so her head was titled upwards. Apparently the night was longer than I thought and Khubz had joined Scully hours ago.

I got in to bed with them and Khubz woke up enough to look at me and pat my face. She then said, "Mama pillow? Khubzita pillow?" and burrowed back in to Scully. I laid awake for the next two hours unable to sleep. All kinds of things went through my head. The only thought I even remember centers around Scully and Khubz.

Their relationship has grown so much. When Khubz was an infant someone gave Scully this quote. "It's not that she doesn't need me. It's that she needs you more right now." It was hard for both of us that Khubz the infant wanted me, or more specifically, my breasts all the time. Milk was the ultimate comfort and I had the milk. Now comfort comes from all kinds of places: juice, hugs, favorite books, galloping across the room, kisses and belly rubs, the naranja pequinita song, puppets. . . For all my fears of weaning I did not lose my girlchild at all. Scully and Khubz have each other in a new way. And Scully and I, actually, can support each other as parents in a new way as well.

I guess I'm writing this down because I laid awake last night looking at my woman and my girl all curled up together. Khubz had her foot propped up on Scully's leg. She would occasionally reach up to grab Scully's hair or pull at her clothes. I contrasted this to when Khubz the infant would reach up to tweak my nipple or bite me. This toddler cuddle is infinitely better. I smiled as I watched the two of them shift in their sleepy embrace. I rolled over and rubbed the bean until I fell asleep--thoroughly enjoying more than my share of the bed. I'll take this, I thought. The bean will be here soon enough. Then I smiled again as I s t r e t c h e d out across the bed. Blissful.


Veronica said...

I think Amy and Khubz have their birthdays about the same time. 2! Oh the joys.

laurharr said...

So sorry about the violent vomiting. Awfulness. Lovely to hear about the end of your night and watching the peaceful sleep (more or less) of a two-year-old and her Mama. Blissful is right!