100% Momma

LBB stands for Life Before Bailey. I realized this morning that I can hardly remember it. I do remember it some days (particularly when I'm sick of wearing "Momma" hat and I dream of what things used to be like). But I also know, quite clearly, that I remember things with a VERY rosy tint.

In reality, LBB was all about preparing for Life After Bailey. She was our first dream.

And lord, did she ever come through.

We're going through an interesting time with Bailey and with each other in general. Bailey is ALL about me right now. She has been for a while, but as she is able to vocalize her needs and wants more and more, it becomes more pronounced. At the same time this is happening, Kelly is getting more and more pregnant and subsequently, more and more in need of gentleness and tenderness. Kelly is certainly not exempt from the hormone overload that comes with pregnancy, and she is feeling the effects.

It's an interesting place for me to be. If I could isolate my relationship with Bailey, I would say that I love what is happening. It is truly remarkable to be her hero. There is nothing more special to me than having my daughter light up when I see her, rush into my arms and smother me with hugs and kisses. When she looks at me adoringly and says I love you, my heart is as full as it has ever been. When she needs me close when she's tired and when she responds so absolutely to my bad moods, I feel so central and validated and needed. These are good, good feelings.

But then, I glance over at Kelly and I feel bad. It hurts me that Bailey is so heavily into me, on behalf of Kelly. I look at my wife, who loves Bailey more than she's ever loved another person (me included) and I feel like she is being cheated. I wonder if she is feeling hurt, left out or lonely and I want to fix it. So I urge Bailey to hug Mommy, to kiss Mommy, to take her book and read with Mommy and when Bailey refuses, I feel even worse. If it were me on the other end of Bailey's indifference, I would feel terrible.

(Sometimes, I wish it WERE me on the other end of Bailey's indifference. The break, occasionally, would be nice.)

I haven't talked to Kelly about this. I am almost afraid of opening Pandora's box. It's almost as if acknowledging our differences would make it worse. I don't know.

I know that children love unconditionally and that right now, Bailey needs me for whatever reason. Bailey and I have bonded the way that two Taurus's with incredibly strong needs bond. She and I mirror each other, and we love in the same ways. Intensely, large and with the strength of steel.

I tell myself that right now, Bailey needs the kind of love that I give. I am demonstrative, loud, exciting. I play with her hard - throwing her around, doing somersaults, chasing, squealing and laughing. We crawl on the floor, we make messes and we clean up. I hold her for hours at a time, cooking and talking about the things in the kitchen. I let her take risks and I'm there when those risks fail.

Later, Kelly will need the kind of love that Kelly gives. The same way that I do. Later, when Bailey is going nuts with trying to live in this world and figure out how to tame all those hormones and restlessness (and she will. She is like me, and I know how hard it is), she will need Kelly's calm. In the same way that Kelly brings peace to my crazy head, she will be a steady guide for Bailey. Kelly is, literally, the calm in the storm of our life. The storm that I often am the creator of. Bailey is so much like me, she really is. Her response to life is so similar to mine. I get her, because I AM her. And at some point, that is going to ROUGH for us. We will butt heads as strongly as we snuggle now. When push comes to shove, in later years it will be me she is fighting with, and Kelly who is keeping us both from flying off into outerspace.

It's possible that this is only a concern of mine and is not echoed by Kelly. She is far more philisophical and much less emotional than I am.