A Sappy One
Oh my goodness, I'm such a sentimental sap these days. It's such a cliche, I know, but the maternal chemistry taking over my body to keep this child inside me growing is making me sort of nutty.
Last night, I stood on the part of our upstairs foyer/balcony-thingee at the point at which I can see most of the upstairs and part of downstairs all at once. I saw the closed door to Charlotte’s room, where I had just come from, and I knew she was snuggled in her bed, deep asleep, her hair a little curly from going to sleep with it damp from her bath. I could see into her little sister’s room, the nursery finally set up, ready for Lorelei Belle. And I could hear Chris downstairs, type type typing, slaving away for his job, his little family’s security—mortgage payments, health insurance, retirement accounts, college funds. Diapers.
As my woman-of-few-words Grandma Belle had said at this exact same spot the first time she visited us in Maryland, “You’re a lucky girl to have all this.”
Yesterday also marked the 12-year anniversary of the day I left home--for good--so I was already feeling sort of retrospective, marveling at this remarkably grown-up life I apparently was leading. Twelve years. My, so much had happened in between Then and Now.
I mentioned it to Chris, and he obviously has a very similar Leaving Home date, give or take a day. It's been a long week for us, and we tiredly leaned into each other in the kitchen--baby belly hugely in the way, but no matter. "Look at everything we've built," I said with a (sentimental) sigh.
"Technically, Winchester built it," Mr. Literal said, referring to the developer of our neighborhood.
"I'm not talking about the house, you dork," I said. Not that I don't love our house. But really, it's just a house. "I'm talking about our FAMILY. Our LIVES."
"I know," he said. "I knew what you meant."
Chris has been working very late all this week, preparing for a huge presentation to the chief officers of his company, plus about a hundred other folks. Charlotte has missed him.
This morning, when I got her up, the first thing she said was, "Mommy, I want to see Daddy."
I called for Chris, telling him a little brown-eyed girl wanted to see him, and he came upstairs (looking quite dashing in his suit, I might add--that presentation is today). "DADDY!" Charlotte yelled. She ran to him and jumped up into his arms and put her head happily on his shoulder.
Oh, the sight of a guy in his corporate-world suit tightly clutching his little girl wearing her pink princess nightgown. The juxtaposition of it. I could just see how much Charlotte adored him, and even more so, I could see how much Chris loved his little girl.
It's funny. I've know Chris for twelve years. We've been together for nine years. I thought I knew him as well as a girl could know a guy, but watching that daddy side of him bloom and grow has been the most incredible aspect of our relationship--I just didn't anticipate such a degree of change in him.
I mean, I think back to the college versions of ourselves and compare them to the mortgage-paying, baby-growing, toddler-chasing, working-stiff, going-to-Target-is-a-fun-outing lives we have now--and wow. Twelve years no longer seems like such a long time!
I know there is nothing new or different about our situation compared to billions of other people, but that doesn't make building a life, whatever it may or may not entail, any less amazing to me. Things shift and change, evolve and grow. Who knows what's next?
Last night, I stood on the part of our upstairs foyer/balcony-thingee at the point at which I can see most of the upstairs and part of downstairs all at once. I saw the closed door to Charlotte’s room, where I had just come from, and I knew she was snuggled in her bed, deep asleep, her hair a little curly from going to sleep with it damp from her bath. I could see into her little sister’s room, the nursery finally set up, ready for Lorelei Belle. And I could hear Chris downstairs, type type typing, slaving away for his job, his little family’s security—mortgage payments, health insurance, retirement accounts, college funds. Diapers.
As my woman-of-few-words Grandma Belle had said at this exact same spot the first time she visited us in Maryland, “You’re a lucky girl to have all this.”
Yesterday also marked the 12-year anniversary of the day I left home--for good--so I was already feeling sort of retrospective, marveling at this remarkably grown-up life I apparently was leading. Twelve years. My, so much had happened in between Then and Now.
I mentioned it to Chris, and he obviously has a very similar Leaving Home date, give or take a day. It's been a long week for us, and we tiredly leaned into each other in the kitchen--baby belly hugely in the way, but no matter. "Look at everything we've built," I said with a (sentimental) sigh.
"Technically, Winchester built it," Mr. Literal said, referring to the developer of our neighborhood.
"I'm not talking about the house, you dork," I said. Not that I don't love our house. But really, it's just a house. "I'm talking about our FAMILY. Our LIVES."
"I know," he said. "I knew what you meant."
Chris has been working very late all this week, preparing for a huge presentation to the chief officers of his company, plus about a hundred other folks. Charlotte has missed him.
This morning, when I got her up, the first thing she said was, "Mommy, I want to see Daddy."
I called for Chris, telling him a little brown-eyed girl wanted to see him, and he came upstairs (looking quite dashing in his suit, I might add--that presentation is today). "DADDY!" Charlotte yelled. She ran to him and jumped up into his arms and put her head happily on his shoulder.
Oh, the sight of a guy in his corporate-world suit tightly clutching his little girl wearing her pink princess nightgown. The juxtaposition of it. I could just see how much Charlotte adored him, and even more so, I could see how much Chris loved his little girl.
It's funny. I've know Chris for twelve years. We've been together for nine years. I thought I knew him as well as a girl could know a guy, but watching that daddy side of him bloom and grow has been the most incredible aspect of our relationship--I just didn't anticipate such a degree of change in him.
I mean, I think back to the college versions of ourselves and compare them to the mortgage-paying, baby-growing, toddler-chasing, working-stiff, going-to-Target-is-a-fun-outing lives we have now--and wow. Twelve years no longer seems like such a long time!
I know there is nothing new or different about our situation compared to billions of other people, but that doesn't make building a life, whatever it may or may not entail, any less amazing to me. Things shift and change, evolve and grow. Who knows what's next?
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