Infanta Robustica
Temple turned 3 months old this week.
Hearty and robust, she has delectable baby chub in the cheeks and thighs. Her wrists grow rolls. She has eyes that sparkle and she coos like a pigeon. Lately she has begun to perfect the baby squeal and even the beginnings of a baby laugh. When we tickle her chin or laugh at her bobbly head, she laughs back - a throaty almost-giggle that reminds me of a revving engine - hhhh, hhh, hhhh.
This girl takes her food seriously. She smacks and slurps and gulps. She wraps both arms around the boob like a wolf with a bone in his paws. She furiously nurses with her fingers sunk deep into my flesh, holding on as if for dear life. When finished, her eyebrows waggle like one of the Marx brothers and then her eyes roll back into her head with a grin, drifting off to milky dream land.
Her eyes are like tempting sirens on the rocks. Risk a deep look into their clear blueness and you could fall right in, disappearing forever. The blue pools beckon and the lacey eyelashes usher you straight to the tempting depths. She is dangerous this girl. All cool sultriness, sensual and dreamy yet there is fire in the center. Fire like hot lava. While she camoflauges her intensity with girly smiles, giggly happiness and arms that flap with joy, I see the will that lives in this baby girl.
Lately she has found her toes. Her fingers dance in front of her face and she is amazed. She rolls back and forth, almost ready to turn over. Each discovery is a delight and I watch with great joy as she awakens to the world around her. Everything is brightness, hope, promise.
I wrap my hands around her silky hair, her sturdy skull, her round cheeks and I look at her thinking: holiest holy, most perfect perfectness, littlest lovely. What baby isn't? I know. She just happens to be my own little slice of heaven. My hands look so aged and wizened next to her delectable freshness. My skin so brown next to the whiteness of succulent baby flesh. She is purity in flesh and bone and spirit.
For me, there is a sense of stepping aside so that she can step in. As if I am usher and guide and container for her to bloom. And I am excited by this realization. My femininity is an developing one, a motherly one. I am here to teach her how to be a woman and then to allow her to teach me. This is a complete and utter joy to contemplate. How did I get so lucky to have a daughter???
This daughter. This drooly, bald, slobbery, beautiful, sparkly daughter.









