I’m sitting at my desk this morning…and I cannot get in to work. I’m dreaming about all the babywearing I did this weekend. I wrapped Ava up for hours on Saturday. To cheer on Dada as he finished the BK ½ Marathon along the Coney Island Boardwalk, to explore Legoland Discovery Center in a safe and contained way, and then to walk Dijy as we neared the end of the day.
I thought, as we walked the streets of our neighborhood, Ava happily snuggled on my back her thumb in her mouth and her other hand in my hair, “I’m so happy she loves this too.” I had already worn her for hours that day, and she is a busy toddler who loves to explore her world. But, when I scoot her on to my back she settles in (most of the time) and is along for the ride.
On Sunday, she was up again for a morning dog walk, and then for an hour as we watched Emilio at swimming lessons, and then later as I practiced new carries and picked up the house. When I’m up and down stairs it is the safest place for her to be.
Later as we enjoyed a family dinner out I held her in the ring sling as we waited for our food. They had outdoor seating open and pop music playing and we swayed and danced to the music. Much less stressful than trying to keep her happy and contained in a high chair with no food in sight.
So now, as I sit here thinking about wearing her, my Facebook feed filled with babywearing related posts (cause you know, that’s my echo chamber), I feel an ache. I feel the need to wrap her up.
I love it. I love the exploration of woven fabrics. I love the textile art. I love the geeking and the churning. I love the relationships and friendships I’ve built from wearing her. Mothers who invite me over, who I’ve welcomed to my home, just purely because we both love the same wraps. You can’t get much more open than that. But most of all, I love holding her close to me. I love the experience of her on my back. Even when she’s screeching out in protest in a quiet room filled with people watching their children swim. I know I can make her laugh again. And that is what I ache for on Monday morning. That is what I crave and yearn to have again as soon as possible.
Give me all your arguments against it and I’ll show you a girl who walked before 1, who knows how to climb up on her brother’s bed, who walks the stairs holding the banister and can run with the best of them. I’ll show you a girl who easily detaches when I drop her at daycare in the morning. Who eagerly goes in to the waiting arms of a grandparent, and loves to cuddle with her Dada for naps. She’s attached to me in the best way.
So, is it time to go home yet? I’ve got some more babywearing to do!