Mondays are reserved for Mommy-stuff at Hollywood Housewife. It's just an excuse to show off my baby girl.
In a way, she is. Our little documentary. We made her. Continue to make her. Watch her being made.
But until recently, this adoration has been a one-way street. We give and give and give - happily, lovingly - and she acts like the Queen of Sheba.
We smile at her and she smiles back, and that is the extent of her demonstrative affection.
Then one night, just after our return from Oklahoma, her daddy was putting her to bed. I was upstairs, and could hear her wailing and carrying on. This in itself was unusual, she goes to bed easily. I thought she was probably just a little off of her schedule and I decided The Gorilla had it under control.
After about fifteen minutes, I ventured down to her room to give him a break. Pigtail doesn't cry like that often, but I know the rocking and cooing can get exhausting fast. As we traded off, she snuggled into my neck, fell completely silent, and drifted off to dream within minutes.
My eyes widened with the realization that she wanted her Momma.
Me. She wanted me! She likes the way I hold her, or the sing-song rhythm of my voice. My smell brings her comfort or maybe it's just that my face is smoother than her daddy's.
In the past week, I've noticed a few other, smaller things. I can tell by her cry if she's hungry or tired, or just needs to fuss it out for a few minutes. I am relaxing in my abilities and more confident in my relationship with my daughter. I don't know if it happened over time or suddenly.
I have felt like a mom for half a year. Now, I feel like Pigtail's mom.
