She dumps the sand I brought home from Punta Cana on the carpet while Im putting away the clothes she pulled out of the drawers while I was cleaning up after dinner. I shout at her, frustrated, and she begins to cry because she knows, at only one year old, that she did something wrong. And my heart breaks because she didnt know any better. She was playing. She tries to clean it up by rubbing a towel over it, but it only spreads the sand around and makes a bigger mess. And Im exhausted from cleaning up another mess she made while cleaning up another mess she made while cleaning up another mess she made.... She traumatizes my house, mutes my social life, dictates my schedule, depletes my energy, and bloodies my eardrums... But at the end of the day, my baby brushes the hair away from my face so she can look into my eyes and feel safe and loved as I lay down next to her. She pulls me close for a hug, and nuzzles warm against my cheek. And I get to be her mom again. Not a housekeeper, not a bread winner, not a supervisor or disciplinarian or nurse or teacher or cook. I get to be her mom, and she is once again my baby. And man, nothing in the world compares.....
Posted on: Mon, 13 Oct 2014 03:20:28 +0000
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