That Glorious Day
Jul 3, 2008
This Tuesday — I’ve been told — Joaquin’s nursery mural will be featured in an article on Cookie Magazine. Imagining that they might link to my site (maybe not), I thought it would be cool to have as a welcome mat that Christmas e–card/slideshow template I’ve promised to give away. So I got the template ready and was just about to begin documenting how it works when I got hit with two very large sticks. One, DeQuervain’s tenosynovitis (a.k.a. New Mom’s Syndrome). Two, Joaquin, the crawling machine. So my gift to the public domain will have to wait a little longer (at least until my right wrist recovers), and instead you’ll be serenaded with some notes I’ve recently been able to observe about…
The glorious day on which you finally crawl
You’ve been practicing the individual moves for months. You’ve been depressed, you’ve recovered, you’ve worked hard at perfecting your technique. You know the position. You’ve rocked and rocked and propelled your legs, and have been so close to achieve real movement, and finally one day you’ve launched shakingly, moving arms and legs at the same time, and ZUAZ! There you are CRAWLING!
Suddenly everything has changed…
First stop in the itinerary is that black tower you’ve observed all winter (i.e. the space heater), and the filthy wood floors, and THE KITCHEN. It’s the first time you can do this, so you check with mommy before you get going. But pretty soon, F that. You’re gone!
You don’t want to eat or sleep. The excitement keeps you wired, and although you had cut back to one poop a day, today you poop six times, like in the good old newborn days.
Sit down meals are so NOT an option for you anymore. You begin nursing, and even while the breast is spraying copious flows of milk, you suddenly pull away, face looking out and hand pressing on boob with disdain like saying “You treacherous woman. You think you can trick me with that round and delicious breast. Get away from me! I KNOW I COULD BE CRAWLING THIS MINUTE!”.
You become a lot clearer about what you want, and what you want is to practice some extreme sports standing on your bouncy chair. Suddenly it shows that you’ve been paying attention and know where things are, and you head straight to that chair. And if mommy gets tired of supporting and shielding your (still clumsy) body and takes you away from said chair you cry with the fury long gone from those good old newborn days, when the (not so treacherous) boob couldn’t seem to ever make it on time to quench your thirst.
You become a lot clearer about what you want, and what you want is that chocolate cookie mommy’s eating. And those strawberries with yogurt she’s having. And in fact, anything you see anyone eating. Even though you just had a full meal (of the same thing) and spit up half of it, you want mommy’s snack. You make cute smacking motions with your mouth, and launch on the pursuit after letting out a squeal and smiling mischievously to your victim.
Mommy leaves the room and you can’t take it. On day one of crawling you cry fat tears so she immediately comes back. On day two you’re all “Where are you going? I’m coming with you!”
Day one is for celebration. But on day two you put things straight and make it very clear to everyone that this crawling thing is just a temporary fix, because what you’re really after is walking.