Bryony, Janice and I travelled four hours north on Tuesday to spend a few days with Janice's friend Paula and her parents. It was a nice escape from Killeen for me, and the weather was nice--if a bit windy--which made for some great birding. Paula and Janice are both wildlife biologists and so they got my butt back in shape...at least in terms of getting out my binos, field guide and going out to search for birds.
Bryony had a great time, too. She was surrounded by people who were really receptive to her, so she got lots of attention. Oh, and there were two large, friendly labrador retrievers, so she had some furry playmates to add to the fun. Many a moments were spent watching Bryony get swatted in the face by a long, furry tail or seeing her lying lazily in the arch of a pup's abdomeen as he curled sleepily on the floor. Both of us girls had lots of fun.
Yesterday morning, Janice took Bryony to the backyard to push her in the baby swing that hung from the tree (the owners of the house have many grandchildren and great-grandchildren so they were all prepared with toys galore!). I stayed inside to straighten things up, but meandered over to the window at some point to watch. My daughter was laughing her head off, having the time of her life as Janice pushed her once, twice, and once again, back and forth, back and forth. My first feeling was happiness to see my kid so alive with joy and delight. My second feeling was serenity to have a few quiet moments to myself. My third feeling was annoyance that I was spending said "quiet moments" watching my kid rather than reading a book or having a cup of tea or attaining world peace or whatever. My fourth feeling was a realization that the reason I couldn't tear myself away from the window was because my stomach had been doing flip-flops, then somersaults, then all-out volcanic eruptions as I watched what seemed to be the swing's increasingly closer approach to the tree trunk. In my mind's eye, I just saw my baby swing SPLAT! into the tree and everytime she'd rock back and forth, I felt my nerves attack my skin with little daggers that made me bristle and cringe. I knew rationally that Janice would never let my baby crash into the tree, but being inside the house, not in control of the situation, I felt helpless and sick. I literally wanted to vomit. I willed myself away from that window but my feet wouldn't budge. At some point Paula asked me how I was enjoying "some time to myself" and I made a lame joke about using it to watch my daughter. I couldn't admit to her my irrational fear that in the 20 feet away from me that Bryony was, something awful was going to happen.
I finally forced myself away from the window and sat down to watch tv, but the image of the swing swaying, slanted toward the tree trunk stayed in my mind and I couldn't relax. Not until they came inside, unscathed, Bryony's nose a rosy red from the morning cold, her mouth stretched into a large, toothy grin. Janice said she'd noticed Bryony rubbing her little hands together, so she'd decided it was getting too cold for her, so they'd come inside. This perceptive woman is the same person I had feared would allow my child to swing into a tree trunk? Have I gone insane?
Kinda, I think.
I've gone mother.
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