A personal essay by Melanie Henderson
Life is always exhausting and busy. But having Alice has helped us see that there is always room for fun and silliness.
I slightly lift my eyelids. We both hear her. Her waking moans ooze through the crack in her door and spill into our room. My body is plastered against the cotton sheets. Like a hibernating bear, I refuse to move. It's not the right time; it's too early.
Connor, however, I suppose is the true mama bear as he lumbers to her room. On those mornings, he doesn't even ask me. He knows. He goes. He gets her.
When I'm the mover, I'm not as swift as Connor. I grudgingly creep to the crack—only wanting to drop down in bed and sleep for an extra two minutes. Before I push the door open, I wait. Maybe she will go back to sleep? Maybe she was just grumbling or playing in her sleep?
No...she's definitely awake.
The Grumpies Melt Away
When I peek into her room, she's already wrestling her life-size, no-longer-white polar bear. "Bear! Bear! she squeals as her unoriginal name for her companion is accompanied with a melody of unintelligible words. I continue to spy on her. Her wrestling match turns to a secret conversation that ranges from top-secret whispers to grand explanations about birdies and bunnies—most likely stemming from her love of Peter Rabbit.
As I eavesdrop, my exhausted and sloth-like self giggles away. Now, I'm waiting for the exact moment to come into the room and surprise my girl. Eventually, Connor's tall presence tiptoes beside me. I eagerly glance up at him--wanting to express my desire to squish and squeeze her once I get in there. He smiles, already knowing what I'm thinking. Then we softly sing:
"It's Alice, it's Alice, the princess in the palace. She's our happy girl...She's so cute and she's so funny. Her nose is never runny. She's our happy girl."
Our hushed jingle to the tune of Wizard of Oz's "If I Only Had a Brain" perks her attention. All conversation with Bear stops and she begins to excitedly thrash about in her crib. Her chuckles and eagerness exude from the room; she can't wait anymore!
"Hey, sweet girl."
Soccer Saturdays
We love those mornings. Typically, they seem to fall on soccer Saturdays when the day is destined to be fully of mommy and daddy time. Although much time is spent on the funky lime green potty, we try to make the grueling task into a fun or educational experience for her. Not only have we read through stories of adventurous Siamese cats pretending to be chihuahuas, but also Goldie Locks having chicken pox and how CHICKA CHICKA BOOM BOOM—the whole alphabet fell from the coconut tree! We also squawk, oink, bark, quack, neigh, roar, and make any other animal sounds that children learn at a young age. We count. We sing nursery rhymes. We play hand-clapping games. And we also practice how we greet people:
"Alice, can you say hi?"
"Hi" she says as she grins and shyly waves we hand.
"Okay...Alice, what's your name?"
"Moooooooo! MOOOOOOO!"
"No, Alice. You're not a cow. Alice, what's your name?"
The sneaky teasing smile that appears contrasts her innocent doll face. All four of her white perfect teeth are stinging. Her sun-tinted strawberry blonde hair is flying in every direction even though I had placed it in a model-quality bun earlier this morning. She's watching me—waiting for me...
"Alice, what's your name?"
"A-yce"
After cheering and chanting, Alice beams. Her scrunched nose and cheesy wide smile capture her excitement of accomplishing a great task—saying her name.
Busy Days
Sadly though, most days consist of waking up at 5am, leaving Alice with a babysitter at 8am and not coming home until 3pm, cooking and eating dinner, getting ready for bed, and then by 7pm Alice is asleep. Four hours with our baby girl.
On Monday afternoons, we are on grocery runs.
We aren't at the park, running around with blooming rosy cheeks as we climb up and down slides. We aren't jumping up to catch the leaves on trees. We aren't at home belting the ABC's or John Mayer songs. We are at Costco.
Not only do we squeeze through anxious lines to pump gas, but we also bustle through the warehouse grabbing only the essentials: organic lettuce, frozen chicken breasts, no-added sugar peach cups and... maybe, some fruit leather.
I ambitiously drive my car between aisles, dodging swarms of sample zombies that need to taste remade pulled pork. I'm zooming, I'm focused, and
I'm not paying any attention to my tiny human sitting in the cart directly in front of me, until:
"Peaz?
"What's up, Alice?" I ask as my eyes dance up and down the tall shelves.
"Peaz?!"
I readjust my gaze to meet her sparking brown eyes just eight inches in front of me. She has a hint of a smile hiding behind her eagerness for the jalapeño cheese in the doll-sized cups only a yard away.
"Do you want some cheese?"
"Peaz! Peaz!"
"Okay, Goose. Let's stop. I'll get you some cheese." Her smile fully reveals itself and she starts to
disco in the cart.
disco in the cart.
Alice. Our happy girl.
First off, she is adorable. I am so glad you put pictures of her in the blog so I could finally see her. You had some great moments in your writing. I really liked "He knows. He goes. He gets her." I also liked how you had lots of moments of humor throughout, I feel like it showed personality. I loved when you called all the people in line for samples at Coscto "zombies". Nice job!
ReplyDeleteI agree--the part, "He knows. He goes. He gets her" has really good iambic rhythm, which helps the flow.
DeleteTEENY BABY ALICE. She's so darling. Okay the "disco" in the cart over cheese has me giggling. It's such a child thing but also what I would do over jalapeño cheese. So.... Alice and I should definitely hang.
ReplyDeleteYour writing is so personal and intimate that I almost feel jealous of the baby experiences that are happening. But at the same time, I really love that you've documented tiny details about your child. Kudos, babe.
The pictures are just too precious.
ReplyDeleteThere's a great, tasteful variety of adjectives in this one. Great word choice.
Your feelings for Alice are evident through that word choice; you're careful, thoughtful, and reach for better words. Thumbs-up.
Your voice is so clear that I heard you singing to Alice. The dialog works so well that I felt like I was in the moment with you. I know the feeling of waiting to see if your spouse will get the crying baby first. I like how you started with that, and didn't just offer the sweet things about parenting. This is awesome! And Alice is adorable!
ReplyDeleteI love your description of "zombie samplers" hahahah too funny! I also love that you guys have a song for little Alice, she is darling!! & I agree with Matt about your headings! I struggled with knowing where to even put mine or what to title them, so your blog post was helpful.
ReplyDeleteThere was some really nice alliteration "...Siamese cats pretending to be chihuahuas, but also Goldie Locks having chicken pox and how CHICKA CHICKA BOOM BOOM—" It's almost like you are using storybook alliteration to tell about the books you read to her. It gives it more depth.
ReplyDeletePerfect way of describing motherhood!
ReplyDeleteAmazing writing style filled with beautiful and real descriptions of what motherhood is all about. In fact, I was captured by your sweet yet assertive ways describing your soccer Saturdays. What a lovely essay, Melanie!
ReplyDelete