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Lil one had what we refer to here as a pooplosion or massive poopalation (yes we do get creative), and I was pouring her a bath while making sure she wasn't crashing her skull on the cold bathroom tiles, pulled the toothbrush out of her grip (she does love to chew it), put it in the toothbrush-holding glass, and WHAM! Got hit in the face unexpectantly with this image of three toothbrushes: we're a family of three. I don't know what I was thinking before: A family of 2 and a 1/2? Two parents under the careful control of a 9-month old charmer? Three toothbrushes to mean a family of three. It reminded me of one of the pictures shown as evidence in a mormon polygamy trial: 27 toothbrushes lined up.
Motherhood has a certain way of sneaking up on you like that, like it's just a gradual change, part of a gradient of life. Which it's not. It's a rite of passage, a complete metamorphosis, a jump into a new universe. I realized that recently when I was pondering our organization of our digital pictures. Inside the 2006 folder, next to folders for pics from Cam, and a trip to Rome, was a folder with the lil one's name. Like "hey, we're OOF at the moment, we're taking a short trip to parenthood, but no worries, we'll be back in no time.". Hahahah. Of course, our entire life is in that folder these days.
And I'm enjoying it. She's a real charmer. Learning to dance (well, bend at the knees repeatedly), sing-hum, and gracefully sink to the grounds when she's scared to take one more step on her own. Smiling the whole time. And even batting her eyelashes when the doc was examining her throat last week. (verdict: big bad cold hasn't gone away, has spread to the throat, may turn into an ear infection).
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I am re-reading the Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, in anticipation of a weekend with close girlfriends. The paragraphs on motherhood left me speechless. They had not registered when I read the book years ago. The insanity of Vivi had, but not her depiction of the relentless love-you-my-child/your-relentless-needs-are-driving-me-nuts. How many books ought I to be re-reading, me wonders?
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And this would not be a normal post if it weren't for me getting on my soap box about the danger of exposure to (barely tested or not tested at all) industrial chemicals to children's brain development.
"In an essay published online in the journal The Lancet, the researchers identified 202 potentially harmful industrial chemicals that may be contributing to dramatic increases in autism, attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), and other brain disorders among children.
Roughly half of the chemicals are in common use, but very few have been tested to determine their impact on brain development.
"The bottom line is you only get one chance to develop a brain," Philippe Grandjean, M.D., of the Harvard School of Public Health, tells WebMD. "We have to protect children against chemical pollution because damage to a developing brain is irreversible."
The few substances proven to be toxic to human neurodevelopment should be viewed as the tip of a very large iceberg," they wrote.
Now, go ahead, yawn, while I entertain you with my wild fantasy of one day inhabiting a petroleum-free kitchen. I'll wait.
... And this gives us a perfect opportunity to plug in a book that comes highly recommended on less toxic home cleaning, which I'm looking forward to purchasing on our next venture into the mighty United States.
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