The Strongest Spirits

My friend said to me this morning, "The strongest spirits are the ones who fought the hardest to get here."  For my friend's youngest, and for Tziporah, that certainly rings true.  When I got home late last night, Tziporah's light and ceiling fan were on, but she was fast asleep in her pink footie pajamas.  I looked at her for a long moment, lying prone with her arms slung out, slumbering in total peace.  I thought again, as I often do, of the moment I took a long-shot pregnancy test.  I remember so clearly that the two lines materialized boldly and definitively before I even had a chance to walk away.  From then on, I knew we had a strong and hale little spirit in our midst, and my prediction has borne out exactly like I thought.

As I gazed lovingly at my sleeping baby, little did I know that she would be wide awake an hour later.  Tziporah has always been a fine sleeper, preferring to be left alone in her crib withe her bottle and the tassels on her blanket to soothe her.  She is not much of a snuggler, but she was getting teeth a few nights ago, and couldn't sleep.  I kept picking her up and holding her in the bed next to her crib.  No sooner would she take a calming breath and feel better than she would want to get back in her crib.  Then, 20 minutes later, crying.  Considering her general disinterest in being held close, I was happy to spring out of bed and hold my little babe.

Well, I think she liked it.  Last night, she kept waking up with a fake cry.  When I went to her, she sleepily handed me her blanket and pointed to the bed next to the crib.  I wrapped her up, climbed under the covers,  and tickled her chin.  She wanted to talk.  She told me about the dog we had seen on our walk earlier, saying, "A doggie in a winnow.  Ummmmm....a doggie, a winnow.  Ummmm..."  We talked exhaustively about the dog, and of course sang the song that she had inadvertently quoted the lyrics to.

It occurred to me that Tziporah and I never really get a chance to talk like that during the day.  We don't have all kinds of time like I had with Golda and Ruby, to just talk about what sounds animals make or where our noses are.  I don't think Ptolemy ever knew any animal sounds at all.  It just wan't on the radar, which is a little bit sad.  Poor little Tziporah has to wake up at 2:00 in the morning to have her one-on-one time with Mom.

And I'm thankful that she does.  This morning, during the rush of getting kids out the door, I walked into the bathroom, smiling softly, remembering my slumber-party giggling and under-the-covers talk with Tizzy.  I heard maniacal laughter, and I looked up to see Tizzy standing on the counter, using a Tupperware to fill up the curling iron drawer with water from the sink, taking care to save plenty to pour on the floor, too.  "Water, water everywhere, and nary a drop to drink."

You know, Tziporah is wise.  I think she wakes me up in the small hours of the night to remind me, during the stillness, of her divine and eternal nature, so that when she is cackling on the countertop, rivers of water all around her, I will remember and know of the strong, valiant spirit in that pudgy little body.  And I'll just laugh.