I always knew from the beginning I’d be blessed with two darling angels to take care of. Others would have screaming, whining, getting-up-at-odd hours children. But me, no. Mine would be perfect.
Oh! I knew for sure! Until I didn’t know. Until I wasn’t so sure anymore.
Because, just as the doctors and websites predicted, I gave birth to human children. Not angels. Angel wings would cause engineering issues while taking the baby out. So ya, it was children for me.
And my little offsprings set out like a bunch of clockwork dolls on their mission. Which was to set my OCD world upside down, to disprove every Parenting Book in the world, to make me consume my own words in the form of a pie. A pie which has a bitter taste to it owing to the addition of an ingredient called Humility.
I eat this pie in huge bites and gulps nowadays. Actually I eat all pie like that 🙂
And if a day is particularly bad, I tell myself I must wait for the Magic Dust moment. No one sees this fine magical dust and you can’t predict when the dust will settle on you. You CANNOT summon the magic. I have tried infinite number of times. It must happen on its own.
It happens some days, when I’m irritated and I’m stuffing laundry into the hamper with a vengeance, and Stevie tugs at my shirt and offers me a dirty sock and says “I hap (help) youuuu“.
And I have to smile. And I cannot but feel there’s more to this moment than what meets the eye.
Somedays, I am groggy and I am hollering at the kids to JUST GO AND SLEEP. And I fantasize about far-off residential schools for them and ample time to nap for me.
And Ryan puts his arms around my neck and says “But Amma, if I sleep, I’ll miss you.” And its a horribly cheesy sentence made up to escape a noon nap, but I buy it and I’m grinning.
And I can feel the magic dust settling on the bed covers. I feel them in the warmth that my children provide. Their soft heads of hair nuzzling against me. Their half hearted attempts to stay awake. They place their limbs all over me, knowing that I’m theirs. I imagine the dust settling on their drooping eyelids, because watching your babies fall asleep is well..its something.
The dust is strongest at night. When the children are bed and all is quiet. And I find Ajit inspecting a scratch on the wall or a new dent in the furniture and he asks me, “Stevie?” And I say “Ya, who else?”
And the dust works its magic then. Because we’re laughing. And sometimes I creep in to their darkened room at night, and watch the two brothers asleep in a tangle of limbs. Safe in the knowledge that I am there, and that I will be there tomorrow. And the day after that. And after that too.
This dust, its pure magic. It’s just a handful in a day. And you don’t control the distribution.
I didn’t give birth to angels as I planned, But the angels visit me everyday. To sprinkle this dust. To all mothers when they need it the most.
Have you had your Magic Dust moment today?