Site icon Magpie by Jen Shoop

Matryoshka.

A few nights ago, I was dancing in the kitchen with my son in my arms — his head tilted back in joy, a smile stretching across his face. My daughter found us:

“Now my turn, mama – now my turn!”

I told her she was too big to be carried, but she persisted:

“My turn, can I have a turn?”

My daughter is a newly-minted seven-going-on-seventeen-year-old, and knows how to huff and eye roll and stamp her feet with the best of them, often responding to my husband and I with a sarcastic “…really?”,

and the other day I poked my head out the front door to call her for dinner,

and didn’t recognize her shape in the neighbor’s yard.

She was wearing her new flared leggings (a specific, passionate request) with a braid down her back, and it was the first time I’d misplaced her figure.

In the hospital, bleary the day after she was born, I had panicked to Mr. Magpie after the nurses had taken her out of the room to the nursery so that I could try to close my eyes: “What if I don’t recognize her?” He assured me that all the bassinets were marked, and added:

“Are you kidding? You’d know that cry anywhere, already.”

He was right, of course. I could pick her sound out of a million near-identicals. Her smell, too. The way she runs. Her rippling laugh. The shape of her toes.

But I’d looked across the yard, and not recognized her for a split-second, and I think this mis-sighting blurred my vision for a spell,

Because that night we were dancing in the kitchen, after she pawed at my shirt for a turn, I sat down on the couch and pulled her into my arms and bounced her on my knees and tickled her arms and swung her back and forth in my lap,

and she laughed and laughed,

and I saw her at 1, and 3, and 5,

and as a newborn in a hospital bassinet —

all the versions of her, returned to me, as though a matryoshka doll unlidded —

and I realized that she is still my baby girl, still needing to be tickled and held and swung around in my arms. She is seven. She believes in Santa, and wonders whether her dolls get up to mischief when her back is turned, and lays her head on my shoulder while I read to her at night. Only seven. I can’t let her posturing as an older girl, modeled on the teens who baby sit her, and the fact that my husband and I are often mired in conversations about rule-setting and reinforcements, obscure this truth:

She is little, and she needs love in the big ways, but in the little ways, too.

She needs not only boundaries and homework reminders and “what do you think?” conversations but impromptu back rubs and hand squeezes and fingers-running-through-hair. We say “I love you” ad infinitum in our house — several times a day, at least — but I had forgotten that she can still fit on my lap, and be swayed back and forth, and that she craves these tendernesses, too.

There is a possibly apocryphal haiku attributed to the Japanese poet Basho that runs:

To quiet down

the unsettled heart

of the daughter

A beautiful portrait of motherhood, isn’t? A piece of it, at least — one glinting prism of the stained glass composite: the centricity, the purposefulness, of a mother’s quieting presence. Today I sit here and think:

How many nights did I rock my girl to sleep? How many mornings did I carry her, plastered to my chest, in her carrier? How lucky I am to have her still seeking umbrage in my arms, and how snugly she fits.

Post Scripts.

+We carry all the ages of our children inside.

+Even so, it can be hard to say goodbye to each phase.

+The saltings of motherhood.

Shopping Break.

This post may contain affiliate links. If you make a purchase through the links below, I may receive compensation.

+Pretty tiered linen maxi from Boden – love the Liberty floral trim.

+FUN spring/summer bag from J. Crew. While you’re there: they just released a gauze button-down and we all need it in white.

+A bag from seasons past that I regret not snagging: the Khaite Amelia. You can get the vibe for less with this Demellier or this Pam Munson.

+Love this scalloped stepping stool in a girl’s room / bathroom.

+A lovely hostess gift. I also just ordered these lemon coasters to give as a hostess gift! Another (less expensive) go-to: this peach hot honey.

+The chicest little hand cream.

+The Outnet has some fabulous event-ready dresses for spring: this for a cocktail or garden party, this for black tie, this for preppy-leaning outdoor gathering (dress up/down!)

+Spanx’s AirEssentials half-zip is a great transition-to-spring staple. I love the yellow color!

+Cheerful play dress for a little lady.

+Can’t stop thinking about these fun sunglasses for summer…

+Lake just released children’s birthday pajamas! So cute.

+The actual cutest backpack I’ve ever seen for a little.

+For my scent enclave girlies: what are we thinking about these punchy scents from Jo Malone, like Yuzu Zest and Sunlit Cherimoya?

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