My little girl just turned 3 this past week. Its been three mom years for me. It is so mind-boggling to me! Just now, it seemed like she was born, nursing in my arms, sleeping for hours, utterly vulnerable and dependent on me; on us, as parents. And already it has been three years. And she is a sheer life force of energy moving dancing jumping always ready. As Suzuki Roshi called it, an alert readiness. A readiness for life. When she is upset, she is passionately upset. and when joyful, joyful with her full body and mind. My passionate wild darling. Sometimes too much like her mother. (“and the lily, how passionately she needs some wild darling!”, Rumi, Maybe thats what I asked for.) Perhaps a little temperance maybe in order. But that’s not something I have ever learned properly. Dad will have to chip in on that one.

My sleeping baby is my favorite moment of the day. She holds my hand, even now, into her fourth year, before dozing off, into dreamland. sometimes she has some last few words, some mumbles before sleep arrives fully. She is always so warm. and she curls up like a cat, with her other hand rubbing her belly. Sometimes she sings, until that very last moment of sleep. itsy bitsy spider (her most favorite song!) mostly, sometimes twinkle twinkle. Perhaps there is a reason these songs are so popular among the little ones. The melody that one can repeat over and over again. It doesn’t end. But then it does. Everything ends, just as the baby years end and the toddler years arrive, and then the preschooler years.

Right now, thats where my baby is at. So incredibly brave, learning so many new things, giving herself fully to each new day and what it holds. It is amazing to me how much she is open to, how present. More and more I am aware of how many complaints I have. and I don’t do half as much as my little one does each day. So I learn slowly to drop them.

So here it is, to our little ones, our little buddhas. May we cherish the moments, of their touch, their tiny hands holding ours, their small feet flexing, the pouring of water in the tub from one cup to another, the wearing of tiny shoes themselves, and braving it into the worlds with their tiny lunch bags. Thats my diva, my angel, my rock star. Happy birthday my sweetheart!