Baby Pace

My great undoing is to slow to baby pace.  

I will meet her gaze. 

I will swim in her eyes, deep amber pools. 

I will snuggle her sweet, soft face

Get lost in the folds of her neck. 

Sometimes I sneak in a little lick on her forehead, right where the skin meets the hairline. 

There is a conversation there at the edge that I must taste.

I don’t think she minds. 

I will be with her.  

It doesn’t matter that I’m paying the nanny thirty five dollars an hour during this time

I will steal her away

Wrap her up in my bosom

Snug, scrunch, nuzzle, and kiss her

Her hands in my mouth

My nose in her mouth

Again we are one. 

I will slow to baby pace,

In a world where there is no time. 

No tracking

No multi-tasking 

No planning for the moments when she’s occupied and I can quickly 

Send the email

Wash the dishes

Tidy the cluttered corner

Get back to the person

or

Get the thing out of the car.

I will lay languid.

I will slow to baby pace.

I will put on music and we will dance.

Everything else will seize to exist. 

School pick ups

My cell phone

What’s for dinner

My work thing

The parent meeting

The mountain of billowing logistics.  Poof. Gone.

And there we are.

She is always right there. 

READY. 

AVAILABLE.

PRESENT.

I will slow to baby pace and meet her

And be drenched in presence.  

My Productive One will go fallow and die when she groks the gift of baby pace. 

There is no competition here, after all. 

The to-do list can wait. 

The “Big Plans” can hold their sweet little horses.

The Money Maker can cool her jets. 

And baby pace will reign.

And everyone will win.