Mom Remembers

This feels like such a silly thing to report about but it's got me tickled pink. Today Soren learned, what I feel, is the most important of all the English syllables: "ma". And it's about time. After months and months of hearing nothing but "da da da da" all day long, it's a refreshing change. I'm pretty sure that "da da" and "ma ma" don't correlate to anything in his mind yet. Still, he's that much closer to calling me his "mama" and I can't say the approximations don't warm my heart.

I was getting dressed when it suddenly got very quiet out in the living room. Soren had been contentedly babbling a moment ago and now it was silent. I'm sure you can imagine me, rushing half-panted down the hall, hoping nothing horrible had happened. At our last visit, my pediatrician filled my mind with horror stories of infant death; now gruesome scenes were flipping through my mind like a slide show on speed. Or like the scary tunnel in "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory". Expecting a disaster, I was relieved when this was what I saw in the living room: The night before, I'd left a slice of left-over cake on the arm chair. We'd had company and Soren had been in bed. When I'd forgotten it at the end of the evening, it had been far from my son's greedy grasp. But this morning, when it was still left behind, it was within easy baby reach and too unusual for him not to explore. No wonder he was so quiet! He'd been experimenting with an unk

Today, while I took a bath, Soren played on the floor in the bathroom. He rummaged through a box of soaps, shampoos, and feminine hygiene products. He looked into the toilet and dipped his fingertips in the bowl. He pulled himself up on the lip of the tub and started splashing in the water. He played with the shower curtain, fingering it and listening to the muted crinkle. Then, he looked at me, smiled, and pulled the shower curtain in front of his face. My breath caught when he peeked his head out from around the curtain and giggled. He wobbled back into hiding behind the curtain. He was play peek-a-book--with me!

Every mom is different and so is every child. There is no one right way to parent. I learned something very valuable in General Conference this weekend. I learned that we have more in common as mothers in Zion than we have differences. All the important things we have in common. I've been secretly bitter and antagonistic towards other moms who, in their zeal and love for their babies, left me feeling inadequate and then, as a defense mechanism, spiteful and self-righteous. But I was wrong and if I have offended you, I'm sorry. President Eyring talked about the need for unity in the church and, although he wasn't talking about our need to come together as mothers and women, that's what I heard. That's what I needed to hear. A great day of unity is coming and I want to be a part of it. If that is to be, I knew I needed to give up my pride. Eyring said that we focus too much on our differences. We exaggerate them, trying to seperate ourselves from eachother, trying to

Today Soren got his first ouchy/boo-boo/cut. I felt like such a horrible parent! I was working in the kitchen, making dinner, and Soren was playing in his room. He's been a little testy lately whenever I have something to do; he doesn't like to be put down. I guess this is what 9-month separation anxiety is like. So when he started crying all of a sudden, I thought it was just melodrama and that I could stick the food in the oven before going to get him. His screaming rose quickly to a feverish pitch and I jammed dinner into the oven and rushed to the nursery. His shirt was covered in bright red spots and his face was smeared with it as well. I couldn't locate the source of the bleeding but there was a lot of it around his mouth. He was clinging to me and keening--and I couldn't make it better! I hurried to the bathroom and got a rag to wipe the blood away. The cut was on his lower lip and when I found spots on the bookcase, I gathered that he'd banged hims