turning the tables

M and I went to Whole Foods he other day to pick up a few things; a treat I allow myself to indulge in every few months. A fancy new one opened near where we live and let me tell you, it's pure money. The super deluxe model of all things organic and lovely.

As we are heading in M, while screeching for blue cookies (um, dude, this is WF. No blue cookies here. And stop saying that in front of all the organically correct green people lest they think I actually feed you blue cookies) sees the tables outside and says me want to sit there and have a snack. Ok. I'd not have thought of it, but why not.

So we indulge in some shopping, me wheeling M around (while she munches on an organic free range pesticide free locally grown apple) picking out far too expensive cheeses and the like. We also gather some snacks for our spontaneous table date. We check out and I load the single most expensive shopping bag of my life into the car and head back to the table. M climbs into the seat across from me and we sit calmly, snacking. Talking a bit about bumblebees, flowers, and cars. You know, girl stuff. No heavy issues, politics or whatnot. Just me, my kid, and snacks.

It's changing, this mom gig. It's getting better and better, my confidence in my own abilities have grown and matured. There is a companionship of sorts intermingling with the parenting, an exchange of giggles and dreams, of fantasy and make believe. I watched her from across the table, her brilliant smile and shining eyes and all I could think was how fantastically lucky I am to have gotten to meet someone as spectacular as her.