Overheard

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Lovey Loverpants was strollering Baby Girl in front of me on our way through a part of our neighborhood where the fruit loop per capita is at least 4 to 1 and one vagrant street dweller took note of the disparate beauties of LL and BG and noted aloud, "That girl has blue eyes!" "Because she's mine!" I said.

This scenario is played out at least once a day.  Same dance, different day.

Do you know how tough it is going to be to raise a humble child?  Do you have ANY idea how hard it is going to be to keep her from vanity?  Do I even have a prayer?

***

Baby Girl unpacking her suitcase of biracial beauty.

Oh, now I remember...

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You would think that since I spend all waking hours and select minutes of half-awakedness with Baby Girl, I would generally be aware that my life is different now. But occasionally I will be having dinner at the kitchen table with Lovey Loverpants, sometimes an hour after she has gone to sleep and I look over at the living room floor and see it littered with the traces of an infant and I am reminded...Oh, a baby lives with us.

And sometimes I will be on the phone with a friend who has a hot jetsetting life and just as my envy starts to ebb over his frequent flier miles, he will ask me how that little girl is doing and suddenly the synapse fires and I am reminded...Oh, I have a daughter.

Then there are times when I am walking at twilight, past the playground where the potsmoking teens loiter and a little round head leans against my chest and fits perfectly under my chin and I am reminded...Oh, I am a mother.

But my favorite moment every day comes just as I am crawling into bed and I hear the stirring and a small whimper causes me to tip-toe to that crib where I peer over and am reminded once, again, Oh, I am so incredibly grateful to be alive for this.