You're Enough

This child is mercurial, fierce and passionate.  You'd have to be a comet to keep up with her moods, you'd have to be an encyclopedia to keep track of her interests, and you'd have to be a swami to possess the wisdom to raise her with absolute confidence.

I'm none of those things, so go with Plan B:  "Take the Time."  Over the holidays, I developed a habit of sitting on the couch in the kitchen, just being there.  People always gravitate to the kitchen, and I just curled up like a star with her little planets orbiting, enjoying the show.  It was part genius, part cop-out, this plan.  What's easier than setting a goal to sit on the couch with a mug of Italian Amaretto hot chocolate?  I don't know if it's enough, but I do know that it's what I have to offer.

This morning in the fog and slush, on the way home from cello, Araceli took a bite of the Starbucks banana bread we'd gotten at our customary "Chai Fri."  Out of the blue, a jackpot for all this "Taking the Time" spilled out.

"Mom, all my friends think you're the best mom.  When they come over, you say their names, and you always know stuff about them.  You talk to them.  And they love it when you bring us pizza at school. I was telling McKenna how, late at night, we all just sit around in the kitchen and Ruby does stupid stuff and I record it.  It's so funny.  She said she wished she was in our family.  You're the best."

The little tears in my eyes, glistening like the diamonds that Araceli's words were, blurred the fog in the headlights.  Not the safest driving conditions.  Then again, parenting is rarely free of hazards.  I thought about what Maya Angelou said.  "You alone are enough. You have nothing to prove to anybody."

I think that's what Araceli was saying.  Thank you, beautiful girl.