Bringing her A game

Lately I've been trying to give myself more credit for knowing what feels right as a parent. I've always believed in a certain amount of intuition when it comes to relationships and I think the same applies to my relationship with my child. There are times when I can push her a little or change things up, and there are times when it's best to stick to the familiar and cater to her needs. This ebb and flow is part of the learning curve of all new parents, I suppose, and it took a while for me to get it. But when I stop and listen to myself, I usually know what will work best for us and yesterday was no different. I woke up too early and groggy for much planning. Wait for Elisa's nap and then think about the day, I told myself. So I did and I also took a little nap of my own. Waking up the second time, I was refreshed. I realized I wanted to stick with the vision of Mother's Day I had in my head: brunch, a walk in the neighborhood and then who knows. Even though Nacho was working, I felt like I was up for it on my own. So I got ready and by the time Elisa woke, we were off.

The first question was whether we hit the smaller restaurant I was thinking of, which might be too crowded, or try a bigger, less appealing diner I've thought about going to but haven't tried. Hmmmm...I thought about the day in my head and I wanted to go for the place I already knew and liked. Why not? What's the worst that can happen? We'll have to wait or decide to go elsewhere? As I approached the restaurant, I saw people standing in the doorway and thought it might not work out. And then *surprise* they could seat a table for two right away. Thank you, ma'am. So we had a seat and Elisa dove right into her pre-packaged meal as I weighed my options and sipped on a mimosa. This was unfolding just as I'd hoped. She smiled and flirted with the waiter, and I felt relieved as she seemed to thoroughly enjoy her view from across the table. Our first time dining together like this. A woman stopped by to tell me how cute Elisa was sitting there so grown up, and that her daughter (she pointed to the other side of the room) was 28 and she still had curly hair just like Elisa's. We wished each other a "happy mother's day" and I was suddenly wistful about the possibility of being that woman in another 26 years, hopefully having another nice brunch out with my little girl.

We breezed past the park, only stopping for a short while on our way back home after lunch. The weather had turned much cooler this weekend, and Elisa wasn't up for playing too long in the chilly wind. We came home and before long Elisa was acting ready to nap again. I didn't fight it or try to make her stay up longer. She went down without a peep, and I got another chance to rest myself. Such a lazy day, but I wasn't complaining. Sometimes you just need a day like that to conserve energy for the coming week. Over the last two years, I've realized it's not always easy or fun to be a mom. It's a lot more hard work and thankless tasks than I ever realized. How did I not see that as a daughter? But it's also true that there is nothing like it. No joy greater or satisfaction deeper than being part of a couple that brought this amazing child into the world. You give so much of yourself and you don't always know why. You just do it. And deep down, when I quiet everything else and hear that voice inside myself, I realize it was there all along, waiting to guide me. It's what makes days like yesterday feel destined to happen. Because it spoke, and I listened.