Here and Away

Yesterday was a red-letter day.  We left Isabel in the capable hands of my sister-in-law, Jane, and went galavanting off to church together.  There was a sense of freedom in trading in my ratty sweatpants for outside-the-house clothes and pulling out of the drive to mingle with other adults.  And I felt surprisingly little guilt in this action. 

As I sat through the church service (with cell phone on vibrate and placed strategically by my side), I would receive occasional and random bits of visual input from my overactive imagination.  Images of Izzy suffering a slip and fall would surface to my cerebral cortex only to be quashed by the adept actions of Jane.  The imagined choking via pacifier?   Countered by a speedy but calm Heimlich maneuver.  And the house fire that never happened....of course thwarted by the resourceful hand of Jane.  As my unfounded fears were met by a rapidly growing image of my sister-in-law's total invincibility,  I began to relax and enjoy my outing.

But once on the road toward home, my sleep-deprived and coffee-addled mind began to swirl.  I raced into the house with the expectation that my home environment would bear the scars of the many dramas that had played out in my absence.  But instead....utter tranquility.  Izzy was sleeping peacefully in Jane's arms in a dry diaper and a clean onesie. Her rosy cheeks looked a shade pinker and her state of contentment a little deeper.   Even the dog looked happier. 

I won't go as far as to say that I wanted Jane to suffer one of Izzy's infamous meltdowns, but this serenity in my absence was almost more than I could bear!  It would appear that almost anyone could step into my shoes and fulfill her needs.  "What is wrong with me?" I chided myself.  This should be a dream-come-true! We survived our first babysitting experience (albeit with a family member), I didn't succumb to the speed-dial trigger finger, and Izzy was no worse for the wear. 

Later in the day, I put it all into perspective.  I stared into her baby blue eyes which remind me of my dad's.  Her mouth is definitely my mom's, but when she smiles, it looks more like my hubby's.  And her long fingers and disproportionately big feet - those all belong to her dad!  As she grows, it will be me who tells her these things.  I will provide her with love only a mother can give and I will fill her in on the details of the fine ancestry she has inherited (ok - a little sarcasm there). 

It shook my foundation a little yesterday, but I'm solid today.  Secure in the fact that I'm Izzy's mom - no one else, no matter how capable - and I will be the center of her adult therapy sessions.