Christiane, my caretaker

She is only three, yet Christiane is my caretaker. Looking out for me, for what she believes is in my best interest, and, she is usually right. Yesterday, I took a shower after running with my husband, Fotis, and she wanted to join me, so she did. She did not want to come out until I had done everything I normally do to myself afterwards, and she knows, as she pays attention. She even wanted to wait until I blew dry my hair. Only then did she emerge, for me to tend to her, myself, totally dressed, moisturizer on my face – the works.

(I don’t take that long to get ready. It’s Connecticut, not New York or Athens, and the “I don’t care” look is sort of essential.)

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Christiane amazes me. I know I have said this before. The other night while saying goodnight to her and Constantine the house was cold, and I was cold, and so she started putting her blankets on me – very well – she did keep me warm!

I know she will be an amazing caretaker one day. I hope to never need it, but she would welcome me and her dad in and take charge. (I often tell Petros, who gets bothered when I pick out their clothes each day, allowing only the narrowest of choices — for shirts, that when I’m an old lady he can dress me in whatever he deems fit, as long as I’m okay in my wheelchair). Christiane looks out for Constantine, for the rules too. She once got terribly distressed that we’d not turned the movie off and were about to start dinner! No TV, only movies we decide to play for them, and nothing on during mealtimes. She helps keep us all on target. And I am thrilled to have the back up. She knows all our rules and enjoys existing within them, not always pushing the lines out further, like Theodore for instance.

I call her Kitten, and we say Meow Meow, and I know it’s girlie and I would not do this with the boys – which makes it all the more special. She has been extra sensitive lately, hugging me, needing me, and I truly adore being wanted and needed – by her. I say to Fotis, "Oh, it’s just some extra estrogen perhaps, she has to feel her feelings." And again, I know I am buying into and helping to stoke the fires of the stereotypes around the sexes. Just, to have a girl is different. It pinpoints and evokes different emotions within you, no less or greater than, just wholly new, to me.

There is a movie called Waitress, where the main character has a dreadful husband, and starts an affair with her married OB-GYN, and is torn and unsure about having a baby and these men and her life in general, but once they place her newborn daughter in her arms, everything else melts away and there is Absolute Foreground Clarity. This baby is Love, is Life, is It. And she leaves the husband, and doctor, and starts her own bakery, called Lulu’s (her daughter’s name), and grows happier and happier each day, but for her daughter’s existence.

Christiane has been this ongoing miracle for me. The second they placed her in my arms I just wept uncontrollably. I was that taken aback. Every day she does something thoughtful, something wonderful. Something meaningful to me. Just taking her in – watching her breathe, her back going up and down as she sleeps – gives me oxygen.

She has amplified my entire existence, and I am forever grateful.