I sit and I think . . .

I dream and I dance . . .

I change diapers and I write reports . . .

An educated woman who stays at home . . .


The most important job I have - to raise a well-balanced creature, who learns more and more with every situation she is exposed to. A tiny person who looks to me as an example to aspire to - the most difficult job I have.

Sure, I have taught children who eat from tubes going directly to their stomachs to eat orally. I have observed and analyzed the behavior of the "out-of-touch" child, one with autism, another with prenatal drug exposure. I have been the sounding board for parents who were not expecting the children that they have - beautiful babies in damaged packaging. Talking with their hands, their tiny little mouths, a brain that works - a body that doesn't follow the commands given . . . "if I could just get my hand to grasp the block and bring it to my mouth to feel, taste, bite." Synapses gone awry, rewiring, time-staking. Waiting.

I make pancakes. Talk about the batter and the blueberries. The blueness. The berriness. The way the berries crunch a bit when you bite them. The sweet smell - the warm feeling as you breathe in. The oh-so-hot griddle. The brownness signifying they are almost ready.

Watching her feed herself, feeling ever so grateful for the undamaged package she comes in. Yes, this is the most important job I have.

No time to feel unappreciated. No time to spend dreaming about places I'd have liked to visit. No time to feel as if I'm not putting my education to good use - six years of training, and many other opportunities to gain experience. The time is now . . . do what I have with this moment. It all goes too quickly, the sands go out as quickly as the water does. Day turns to night turns to day again, other opportunities to share, to have tea parties, to smell every flower along the path chosen, to smell the sweet blueberry breath of my sleeping babe. This is the moment.