I just put her down for nap number two. Nap number two is always the most difficult of the day. I don't know why exactly...but my paradoxical perspective is that she's usually soooo tired during this part of the day that she gets a little bit agitated, she feels the blanket of sleep being laid upon her against her will, and she fights. When she really wants to, she can fight right through even the most exhausted of states.
Most days, I can get her to fall asleep on my shoulder. However, some days this can take up to a half and hour. She does this thing where she suddenly pops straight up from my shoulder and looks around for something to point at, and equally quickly rests her head back down on my shoulder. She'll then lay there for a few minutes, and just as she's approaching sleep, she'll pop back up like a little gopher. But, usually, eventually, she will slip into slumber. But not always.
These are the days when I feel like I am reminded/taught the most about patience and acceptance. Because I know how exhausted she is, I do everything I can to get her to sleep. This can include everything from singing made- up lullabyes to removing every possible inaminate distractor from the room to even providing a somewhat strong but cradling hand on the back (to prevent previously mentioned gopher behavior). But if she doesn't want to sleep...she ain't gonna sleep. And I swear to God that she can sense when I'm frustrated and she fights even harder when I'm frustrated by her not sleeping.
Don't worry Ali- she's sleeping right now. Actually, ironically, I had to get up about 10 minutes ago to go rub her back, hoping desperately that she'd go back to sleep (which she did).
She reminds me that I don't get to control her. I am in charge- but not in control. This is quite a profound lesson coming from a one-year old. She also reminds me how hard it can be to simple accept things. Ok maybe it's a stretch to try to extrapolate this from a one-year old's refusal to sleep. I mean, clearly there's a lot more going on than simple defiance and refusal to accept. But I think there's some truth in it. Hang with me.
So for us larger people, we know we should take a saturday and just relax, we should stop trying to be somebody that we're not, we should stop fighting whatever you may choose to call the underlying force and/or flow of life. Funny thing is, in my observation, is that when I accept things- my own exhaustion, disappoinment, sadness, less than ideal circumstance- it's always better than fighting it. And I imagine that everyone has their own experience with that. For me, acceptance is like stretching- it always feels good and it always reminds me that I don't do it enough.
I've now been here in Atlanta for a month and a half- and I only have three days left here. It feels like a total blur. Part of that is that there's been a lot more than just the basic duties of nannying going on for me. During these last weeks- I came back from a trip to Mexico, went to New Orleans to follow my heart and a dear woman named Caroline, went to Knoxville for 5 days to get a better feel for my new hometown and to find an apartment. I still feel somewhat bad about the fact that I have brought all this transition and chaos into Phil and Ali's home. But what has become apparent to me is not only how grounded they are and have to be and how Gabriela grounds everybody she meets.
Gabriela is just beginning to use words to communicate. And though her words aren't always clear (and she doesn't always follow it herself), what she is saying does-
Don't fight it.
And don't forget-
pooping is so much fun.
Sorry- that's what I say.
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