elastic lives

Periodically, I find myself having to get reacquainted with my baby. Or, maybe I should revise that statement, with my little boy. Case in point. As Isaac bursts through one developmental hoop after the other, I find myself temporarily left behind, confused as to why our former routines no longer fit, who this little person is, and generally in need of reestablishing our relationship. I find these times extremely difficult and somewhat painful.

These days Isaac has no patience for baby food, little time to eat period, a great love of the VCR, and more energy than one being should be capable of harnessing within 18 pounds of muscle and bone. Me, I’m just in the way. Well, half the time, that is. Half the time he literally pushes me out of the way, racing on hands and knees to the threshold of whatever adventure he sees in front of him next. The other half of the time, I must be close by – very close – ready to stop the fall, soothe the boo-boo, play home base.

It dawns on me that most of us treat our mothers this way for the rest of our lives, and, perhaps, consequently, the other people we are close to as well. Running toward and running from creates the complete circle. How long do you imagine we would have to live before the elasticity wears thin from so much bounding to and fro, and the string finally breaks, and we are content, still?