It's all enough

In a few short weeks my sweet little Naveen will turn three. He is not potty trained nor does he like to function without his pacifier. He hates sharing my lap with his brother and just the other day when I was comforting Deaglan after a bad fall, he pinched his own forehead so that I’d be forced to comfort him as well.

Every evening he lays in our bed, proprietarily snuggled in close to me until he is fast asleep. Then I carry him, limp and sweaty, to his bed, that bottom bunk in the room across the hall. I kiss that sweaty little face and on my way back to my own bed, lament that he is too much my baby still, to be turning three.

It must seem like I’m not doing a very good job of fostering his independence.

I was self-sufficient far too early in life. I’ve told you my story in bits and pieces over the years about how my mother was forced to live on the streets, away from me, when I was still very small and in dire need of her warm, safe arms. I told you that I lived in an orphanage in Bangladesh with dozens of other kids until I was adopted into my family here in Canada. I’ve written some about how it felt to be seven and new to a country and a language and a culture.

I look back at those first twenty years and feel exhausted for that girl I used to be. She had to endure so much. It’s no wonder she waited until her mid-thirties to have kids. She needed 15 years of psychic head space just to process it all.

As a result, I rarely rush my kids through the phases of their development. I watch in awe how they own their little lives, how relaxed they are when they’re home, how connected they become with their immediate environment.

Deaglan takes his socks, pants and often his shirt off as soon as we get in the front door most days. He finds the toys he’s interested in at the moment, goes to the fridge to survey it for a snack and asks us for whatever else he needs to make himself comfortable and happy. For Naveen this usually means finding his pacifier and my lap and snuggling until we move onto dinner or outside.

I watch this kind of thing with fascination and learn how to get what I need.

The simplicity of what makes them happy – a few pushes on the swing, a popsicle, a favourite show - makes me want to pare down my desires too. It forces me in the best way possible to look around and realize that my backyard is big enough,the grass there, green enough, that I am thin enough, that my husband loves me enough, the sky is sunny enough.

It’s all enough.