May 13, 2002 - 11:51 p.m.
Zachary curled up in my lap this afternoon, rubbed his face and told me he had "sleepy eyes."
He's so adorably cute, it tears me up.
Mike sent him toddling off to find me yesterday morning, carrying a Mother's Day card that he had "signed" himself. Mike claims he spelled Z-A-C-K aloud as he got a little help from his Daddy.
The twos aren't so terrible. I wish there were a way to make a little backup copy of him, to bring out and adore when he's long grown-up and disinterested in his parents.
It's an odd thing, becoming a parent. You're old enough to realize the human limits of your own mother and father and young enough to remember when you thought they were the center of the universe - as well as when you thought they were the dullest people in the universe. It gives you an uncomfortable perspective on the undeserved worship and scorn that lie ahead as your own children grow.
I read an article recently wherein the author claimed that becoming a mother allowed her to "forgive" her own mother. I doubt "forgive" was the right word, since her mother hadn't done anything wrong - only the best she could. There are always the examples of terrible mothers, but most are ordinary women trying to do an extraordinary job.
And they call the Peace Corp "the toughest job you'll ever love."
I've had the good fortune of uniting with my mother in the past two years. I can't say "reuniting" because we never got along well as I was growing up. Even when I was away at college, I rarely called home. When Mike and I married and bought a house only a few miles away, I rarely visited. Then Zachary came and within a year I found myself talking to Mom every day. Even now, with long distance charges, I still call her a couple times a week.
My teenage self would be mortified.
But, both mothers now, Mom and I finally have found some common ground to share and more respect for each other.
Babies bring such amazing epiphanies.
