the heart of life

On our last day in Idaho two weeks ago, Bean and I threw a picnic party on our bed. We pushed aside the duvet and brought every creature comfort aboard (Whimsy: laptop playing some soft music; Bean: Trey the three-eyed pink monster, Herp the nearly mouthless blue monster, red-headed Elmo, her woobie Bo, and a generous helping of lunch).

We wallowed in lovees and music.

We compared our beverage containers (Bean: a green and blue sippy cup that's trekked across three states and back; Whimsy: a plastic water bottle).

We flexed our toes.

We ate lunch (Whimsy: leftover barbeque and potato salad; Bean: leftover pizza and bananas).

We laughed.

And as John Mayer's The Heart of Life played in the background and the rainy Boise sun fell through the window on Bean's still-dimpled fingers I thought about this thing I do every day.

I forget that I am the gauge Alice uses to test the world. I forget that my reactions tell her whether she should feel safe or happy or tired. This I know because I was once a little girl. If my mom told me we were having fun, whatever we were doing would become, magically, a good time. If my mom was stressed or worried or rushed, I couldn't help to feel that something was not right with our world.

I have long believed that my current place in Bean's life is to maintain her bubble - her sense of safety, her sense of regularity, her sense of order, and above all--- her sense of normalcy. Especially when you consider that we are on the road at least 25% of any given month.

I think that this life is full-to-the-brim with serious focuses. Regulation and responsibility sneak through the cracks regardless to the cotton balls and newspaper we've stuffed there to keep them out. In the last few months, I've forgotten that it's also my job to show Bean a sense of fun. I've forgotten that it's my place to teach her how to laugh.

So: a white-sheeted hotel bed, a cuddlesome almost-two-year-old, a tired-beyond-belief thirty-six-year-old mother, some music, some very-much-loved stuffed friends, and lunch.

How do I not wake every morning with the sweetness of my life still lingering heavy on my lips?

How do I not put down my work more often and hold her two-year-old body while she still lets me?

How do I not embrace the goodness of these moments while they're happening, while they're thick around my face like moths to a porch light?

How do I not confess each and every aching minute that the heart of life is so very, very good?

I hate to see you cry

Lying there in that position

There are things you need to hear

So turn off your tears

And listen

Pain throws your heart to the ground

Love turns the whole thing around

No it won't all go the way it should

But I know the heart of life is good

You know, it's nothing new

Bad news never had good timing

Then the circle of your friends

Will defend the silver lining

Pain throws your heart to the ground

Love turns the whole thing around

Fear is a friend who is misunderstood

But I know the heart of life is good

I know it's good, I know it's good

Oh I know it's good

-John Mayer, The Heart of Life