What is your favorite part about yourself?
Ok, I’m sorry, I’m out — I was going to stick it out through the end of the month, but I can’t with these self-help prompts.
Instead, I would like to talk about Edith in the morning. I wish everyone could see what an adorably happy, fresh little daisy she is first thing in the morning. I put her in my bed while I lie there and marshal my resources for the early shift, and she prances around in her little sleep gown, giggling and cooing, now dropping into a sudden cuddle against my side, then launching back into a summersault with a peal of delighted glee. Her eyes sparkle, her skin is cream, she smells like sun-warmed grass. She is the very picture of youthful freshness and promise.
Meanwhile, I lie there like roadkill, more depleted every day. My sedentary and expanding body aches in ever more mysterious ways, I look like I was just dragged out of a grave, my skin itches, I can’t stop coughing, I stink.
People often talk about how having children really taps you in to the grand circle of life — they mean, like, the sadness of parents dying, the joy of children being born, it all continues, etc. But I have found it brings home a smaller, more immediately tangible circle of life: that your children actively suck the life out of you and feed off of it to grow stronger. She is flourishing and coming into her power as I watch myself decay. It’s ok, it is right and proper. I shall diminish and go into the west.