The number of things I did not know about babies and parenthood prior to Tallulah would require more storage space than this GoDaddy account will accommodate. Looking back on it now, my recollection is of late nights dutifully spent getting the child back to sleep. Even diaper blowouts take on a wistful, um, air. I know these memories to be false. Being tired sucks. Cleaning poo sucks. I did it and consider it definitely worth it, but I should not pretend that all parts of having an infant in the house are sweet little miracles.
One of the things I did not know — or did not reckon — is that baby feet come out brand new. The skin on the bottom of newborn feet is as soft as, well, every other part of the newborn. Having rather calloused, somewhat eczematized, kind of funky feet myself, I was fascinated with Tallulah’s unspoiled possibility of footness. Her feet became, for me, an analogy for the possibilities of the life that lay before her. Surely her toes would get stubbed (once so badly that the doctor had to glue the skin back on. Yes, glue.) Trips to the vegetable patch or two the mailbox are sure to make her feet rough and leathery. But enough trips to the mailbox will also make her feet more capable of carrying her to the corner, to the creek, or across the field. I don’t want her to go, but I know she will. It is just nice to know that she can make it back too.