Parental Ramblings

This, obviously, is several years old. I let Savannah read it the weekend she moved out.

The past fourteen years have gone by so quickly and I am ashamed to admit that I have great difficulty remembering Savannah when she was young. I'm sure this is mainly from the passage of years and having three children that were so much alike in so many ways. However, memories of my sweet, bald Nanner have been replaced by daily battles of will, the fight for independence and the struggle for control of the other. I have not felt like a motherly mother in quite some time now. So much of my time with her is spent in what she sees as negative interaction. She doesn't have the experience to see that I am only trying to protect her from hurting herself or being hurt by others. Sadly, I lose track of the point of my rules and expectations at times and feel like a legalistic sadist. Saturday night changed this, if just for a few hours.

When Savannah was born, my mother gave us the crib bedding, which was mint green with a huge duck appliqued on the comforter and not really anything special. Fast forward eleven months and we are in the process of moving. Since the new apartment was only two blocks from where we were living, we moved in dribs and drabs instead of all at once. The first night in the new apartment was horrible. Savannah screamed and wailed all night and could not be comforted. At 3:30 AM, I had an epiphany and realized that Savannah's comforter was still at the old place. Prior to this, she had never made any indications that she was attached to the blanket. However, the smile on her face when she was given the blanket confirmed that this blanket was indeed her "lovey".

The years passed, as they do, and the blanket now known as Ducky went everywhere Savannah went. He faded from mint green to a lovely dishwater gray but Savannah did not care. When she became old enough to start staying with friends and having them over, I was sure Ducky would be tossed aside. I was wrong. When she became the cool and image conscious teen ager, even her daddy thought Ducky was toast. Savannah again proved us wrong. Ducky slept with her every single night and did not miss a single slumber party. Of course, by this time he was no longer recognizable as a blanket of any kind. He was more a fragile bundle of rags than anything else.

As always, Ducky traveled to Savannah with us this past weekend. Although Savannah still sleeps with Ducky, she has become much more discreet and keeps him under the covers. When we left Saturday morning, Ducky was in the floor between the two beds. I know this because knowing Ducky's precise location at all times had become deeply ingrained in my routine over the years. We returned to the room late and very tired. We were all ill with each other and had been snippy all day. When Savannah got in bed, she could not find Ducky. When I looked at her, the facade of the remote teenager melted away and I saw my sweet baby. Her dad and I searched the room relentlessly for almost half an hour, a drill we had been through together countless of times in the past. As I attempted to comfort Savannah while I was crawling on the floor and even looking in the microwave, I was reminded of the thousands of times I had done so before and truly felt like her mother once again.

Ducky was never found and Savannah was heartbroken. I sat for a long time, hugging her and stroking the curve of the back of her head. It was such a bittersweet moment. I felt horrible that I could not find Ducky and "fix it" for Savannah but I also felt a connection with her I had not felt in a long time. She was once again my baby, needing and wanting me and it felt wonderful.