"If your everyday life seems poor, don't blame it; blame yourself; admit to yourself that you are not enough of a poet to call forth its riches" - R. M. Rilke
I will admit that, like all parents, I have my moments where I wish I could take my child back to the factory and demand a refund or a model that works better. We have our moments of getting under each others' skin, mutually driving each other crazy, and a lot of those revolve around the few, paltry steps necessary for getting out of the house. Potty, socks, shoes, jacket; it sounds easy, but it can become a four-stage battleground of insanity.
But also, I am gifted with moments so happy, silly, bust-out joyful that I realize I would never trade this experience for anything, not even on my worst day.
Like, for example, last night's impromptu concert. I got Maeve one of those microphones that only slightly amplifies your voice by virtue of an echoing chamber, plus it lights up, and we all passed it around last night, singing solos or single notes, as directed by Maeve. There were a lot of interpretations of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, including Daddy's version which always includes monkeys. I sang some ABBA, some hits from the Music Man, and whatever else Maeve requested. My daughter belted out a version of Katy Perry's Firework that just killed Daddy and I, I wish heartily I'd had my phone on me!
We all applauded each other with gusto, and it was one of those perfectly happy moments in parenting that make you realize you have one of the best treasures in the whole world, having a daughter. Sometimes I feel so utterly rich, it's dizzying.