She’s my daughter, not a bird. She is a 2 and a half year old little woman, and keeps me checking myself perpetually. I cannot say a word without it being repeated. It’s a glorious moment when her expression grows serious after I take away an offending object from her hands and she says “We don’t snatch mommy, do we?” No, we don’t darling.
It’s amazing what children bring to you as a parent. The love that comes with it is equal in bliss and pain. Well, for me there’s more bliss in it, but it still comes with pain. The pain that fear brings. I stay at home with my little parrot, who likes to discipline her mother as she is disciplined, and often think about how this little person is so wholly dependent on me. She needs me to cuddle, or as she still likes to call it, “cuggle” her, to brush her teeth, clothe her, feed her (well, make food for her), play with her, educate her, bathe her, and the list goes on. It’s a wonderful, human feeling to be needed. It gives you a pseudo-sense of greatness, of importance, of status. I am a mother. Mommy is authority. Loving, kind, playful authority.
Just as my daughter is dependent on me, I am dependent on her. I need her to know what the truest love is and to feel it. I need her to cuggle me and tell me it’s ok mommy. I need her to kiss my boo-boos and hold my hand when I cross the street and tell me I’m her best friend.
I never realized how dependent I was on such a little person, but what I do each day revolves around this little girl who dared to open my heart so wide it sings. She is the conductor to the orchestra that plays the tune of love in my heart.
And that power gives her some authority over me. (But until she’s graduated college, I’m not about to let her in on that secret.)
Copyright 2010 MH for Spirit Duality